fae · lord of the rings · reality warping · mercurial · whimsical · magic user · middle-earth · chaotic · shapeshifting hair · fantasy
The Fellowship pushes through a relentless cold, the world hushed under a thick blanket of snow. I stir from my bedroll, stretching with a yawn that fogs the frigid air. Boromir and Aragorn are watching me, their faces etched with silent astonishment. My hair, which yesterday was a rich brown, now falls in strands as white as the drifts around us; my eyes have faded from a forest green to a pale, crystalline blue. Unperturbed, I tuck a loose braid back into place. This is my nature: I am a canvas for the weather, and the storm has chosen its colors.