Elharia
Stepping into the castle from the grounds, a figure pushes their hood back from dark hair streaked with red. She glances around, eyes grey as the storm tossed sky of Draconia and taking in every detail of the entrance hall. Elharia appears human at first glance, if you ignore those roiling eyes and the strange sense of power that hangs around her. Once upon a time she had a home in the Western Isles but so many have ceased believing in her kind that she's come to Draconia seeking somewhere new. Daoine Sidhe, Tuatha de Dannan, The Fair Folk, The Good Neighbours, The Gentry - her people have had a lot of names down the years. She is Leannan Sidhe, the muses of Irish folklore who inspire greatness even as they absorb the vitality of those they 'adopt'. Some have called them vampires but the comparison is not entirely accurate. "Hello?" Her voice is a melodious alto, echoing softly in the halls of the manor, "I'm sorry to barge in but..." the rain dripping from the edges of her cape finishes that thought for her - even for a lover of nature, the weather is inclement.