Lithe, powerful, gleaming muscles that push through the water as if it were silk. A true Roanne if ever one there was.

On land she blends into the Solterran landscape, a scarlet red chimera coat draped over a tall slender form. A russet mane and tail to match. Her mane cascades to the top of her legs, while her tail falls nearly to the ground. Her eyes are a striking violet, though they read like a void. Empty of love or devotion. She wears her sealskin over her back like a cloak, tied securely around her neck with a piece of rope. She is never seen without it.

In the sea she pulls that same skin over her. It pins her ears down to her neck, and slides over her legs and under her stomach, tucking in both mane and tail, glazing her eyes over with a thick coat of black. She takes on the smooth shiny pelt of a leopard seal, grey flecked with black. And she takes on its grace too, able to twist through the waves, propelling herself with those same long legs. Though she has not yet learned how to become one with the seal spirit her pelt contains, she takes on enough of it feel as if they are one.

(To be clear, Saoirse does not become a seal, though that is the hope once she has active magic. She simply functions as a kelpie, taking on the coat pattern/texture of a seal)

|| Ambitious || Powerful || Brave || Convincing || Intelligent || Loyal ||

Saoirse is a woman not to be trifled with. Even as a child she was striving to reach the top, to leave the lowly ranks of the Tir. She is not one to skirt around obstacles in her way, but rather to push through them with the calculated force of an army. She does not shy away from conflict, though to be clear, she does know when it is better to use words instead, if only to get her way.

Though she is a conniving creature, she is loyal to a fault to the Roanne, and those she calls her sisters, even if at times she may despise them so. And to Solterra as a whole, even if she hates most of its people. She is quick to throw herself in front of harms way for them, though she promises by no means not to hold it over their heads afterwards when needed. Nor does it mean she enjoys their company just because she acted for them.

She has no qualms with lying to achieve her means. She often acts too quickly, making rash decisions without thinking through them, or envisioning the consequences. Unless she is actively trying to swindle you she tends to be brutally honest about her thoughts and opinions.

|| Deceitful || Reckless || Short-tempered || Abrasive ||

“I heard she killed someone” “I heard that her choosing was faked” “I heard that she ripped off her mothers pelt” “I heard that -” “Hush Cruite!” the giggles in the room quiet as the spotted woman raises her voice above them. “We do not disrespect the sisters”

I did not kill anyone. I did not fake my choosing. I did rip off my mother’s pelt. She deserved it, consorting with land walkers. She’ll never earn back her skin, she is far too feeble to catch a liopard. I am ashamed at times, that I come from a woman who wore the pelt of a harbor seal. Anything could have been more honorable, even a Fainne. At least father is a Ribin. It was no shock when I grew up lithe and co-ordinated. I should not have been the one to rip off my mother’s pelt, I would have been punished, but what were they to do? One could not just speak against the sisters, and I was to partake in the choosing.

My childhood was simple, no bells or whistles attached. Father was of high status of course, but that is the case for every man who has a place with the Roanne, but as all roanne men do he sired many children. I suppose that means I have many siblings, but in our tradition bloodline follows the house you earn, not the one you are born too. (Of course we keep track of all that to be certain, for… breeding purposes) I earned the family I have, fought tooth and hoof to.

Mother of course was a lowly thing, a mere weaver living in the shallows. As a cruite I spent as much time as I could training with the others, learning every piece of wisdom the Morrigna had to give. I Earned My place.

I was five when the old Nemain died, when they made the call for a new choosing. Of course theres a process to these things, and not just every Liopardi is worthy. The Badb and the Macha called five of us, those they thought worthy. We were to gather at the next full moon, and hope one of us would be lucky enough to attract the creatures of the sea.

Before that night could approach though I found my mothers secrets. Tucked away in her weavings, letters, written back and forth from her to a Terrastellan man. One of the greatest treasons we can commit. The unforgivable. I took it into my hands. A ripping is to be performed only by the Morrigna. But I knew I was to be one of them, and no one was stopping me.

On that night the five of us swarmed into the sea. One by one, spilling blood into the waters. We watched it curling up into the water, tentacles of scarlet reaching up. I’m sure you can gather what happened next.

A year later, just recently, Clodagh the Badb died, taken by age, as all are. Her position was swiftly taken, as is custom. And so we rule our people. Me, the Badb, and our grizzled old Macha. Of course we cannot overturn the rule of the sovereign but, we keep to our own, and try to keep peace with the rest of the court (though, keeping peace with landwalkers is never easy).