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Catrynel the Mystic

Catrynel, while graced with a loveliness that could be used easily to her advantage, still prefers the serenity that only anonymity can provide. As a child of the forest, she finds herself quite uncomfortable when surrounded by crowds and when in such a situation, will simply slip away into a quiet corner to be alone. From this vantage point, she remains content to just observe those who are lost deep within, what she considers to be, the roles each has assumed here within this great play of life.

Her long, raven black hair is normally pulled back in a ponytail for convenience, though when the need arises she allows it to fall freely across her face, hiding her appearance from the wanton gazes of those whose intentions are less than noble. It is there in those moments that one becomes more keenly aware of her eyes...two priceless emeralds that will pierce into you from behind that luxurious black veil. The green fire that burns there in those eyes will remind you of something quite wild and potentially dangerous.

Wearing the dark grays, browns and greens of the forest, she tends to keep the fabric of her clothing heavy. This preference is as much to keep warm throughout her many nights spent out of doors as it is to remain as nondescript as possible to the lascivious stares of the brutes that seem to congregate upon every street corner she passes. Yet, not even the thickest of tunics nor any color of the spectrum seems quite able to conceal the truth of the woman that now is quickly blossoming from this girl just sixteen winters old.

Throughout her life, Catrynel has maintained an uncanny ability to remain detached from outcomes. When thoughts of power and wealth come, she will wonder upon them briefly, much the same as a child will study a strange insect upon the window sill. Then her desire, if it could even be named as such, dissipates as surely as the morning mist will under the rising sun and she is back in the moment. Yet, every time that she would consider the wondrous possibilities of her life, she would quietly whisper to herself, If it is meant to be, then so shall it be.

Her only real knowledge is that of the natural world. She knows the names of all the flora and fauna of the woods around her home and it had been those plants and animals that had nurtured her spirit as a child. Each had taught her in their own way a deeper truth of herself. She understands which plants can be combined together in a brew that brings healing to different ailments. She knows which flowers should be crushed in the mortar and pestle to make the best poultice for a knife wound. She can call out to the wolf or the deer and they will hearken to the sound of her voice. She can even perform small magicks that are merely instinctual and well suited for the situation at hand.

Yes, despite her youth, Catrynel is capable of many strange and wonderful things. So much so that it has been whispered that she is a witch. She thinks of those that do as ignorant fools. Let them think what they may, for the thoughts and opinions of others makes no difference to her. Unlike so many around her, Catrynel knows exactly who she is and, perhaps even more importantly, precisely who she is not.

Catrynel the Mystic

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