PIOUS: Passionately devoted to her religion, Thomasin can be found worshiping multiple times throughout her day. Whether during prosperous or hard times, the gospel that spills from her lips is milk and honey. She is loud about her unwavering faith and it is one of the few qualities that she is proud to boast about – although she insists that all glory should be given to Caligo. The lil’ moon wraith wasn’t always so righteous and struggled with her devotion during her childhood due to blaming Caligo for the lack of love her mother showed her. But Thomasin is now convinced that perhaps her ghastly appearance and childhood trauma was always a test of faith – she should be passionate and loving in the face of her forever-gnawing insecurities. Beauty was once something she chased; now she runs to the comfort of her altar. Religion has taught her grace and nurtured her into a loyal and generous subject – not just to her demi-goddess, but to her entire court.

TENDER-HEARTED: Sympathetic, nurturing, and warm, Thomasin has always opened her arms and heart to anyone within her Court – and although she is very afraid and ignorant of other courts’ populace, she gives every honest attempt to only speak with kindness, remain humble, and selflessly give grace to all creatures big and small. You'd be wrong to assume that due to her macabre looks that she takes delight in morbid activities, but that is not the case. Instead, the mare finds joy watching the children play in the market street, and neighbors greeting each other as they open their stalls. Thomasin tries to be active in selflessly dedicating time to her community, and whatever needs might need tending do, she is eager to volunteer. Secretly, she is pining after the idea of motherhood. She is confident that she would be an exceptional mother, but has accepted that motherhood is not in the stars as her virtue at this time is most important to her.

SENSITIVE: Being so soft has its disadvantages. The heart that hangs in Thomasin’s breast is fragile. This leads her to over-react – sometimes being very dramatic in her woes. As much as she smiles and laughs with unbridled joy, she is equally able to succumb to her emotions and weep. Thomasin, while sympathetic, can sometimes misunderstand someone’s tone of voice or body language, and this can spiral into hours of anxiety and tear-filled distraught. She gets nauseous at the sight of blood, will avoid conflict at all costs, and will run to the altar as soon as she decides that because the monger greeted her with less enthusiasm than normal, he must therefore hate her. After long praying sessions and aggressively crying it out, she wipes her nose, adjusts her attitude, and prepares to issue an apologize to whatever poor party she emotionally harassed. Due to her dramatic raincloud nature, her mother fondly nicknamed Thomasin “Crybaby”, and to this day, Thomasin fights not to be so sensitive. It is a fight she is losing.

FEARFUL: Hand in hand with her untamed emotions, the wraith is easily frightened by everything new and foreign. She is untrusting of strangers, careful to heed her parents’ words about her body being so easily breakable. Bravery is not something she practices; the dark of night doesn’t scare her, but what could be out in the darkness – watching her with their hungry eyes – that is what terrifies her. Her paranoia with being watched and followed bleeds into her relationships. Thomasin, in contrast, is also afraid of being alone. Loneliness has a vice around her heart and it makes building those important relationships difficult for her for a fear of abandonment. She prays to Caligo for the courage to face daily challenges, but it seems her prayers have fallen on deaf ears. It is not yet in her fate. And so, Thomasin is constantly encumbered by this infectious dread.

ROMANTIC: Alas, in the face of fear and with wild emotions and a soft disposition, Thomasin is madly in love with the idea of falling in love. She is a text-book definition of hopeless romantic. If not singing gospel, her heart is in a skip-happy dance to the sweet love songs she sings. She will spend quiet time day-dreaming about the day she will find a partner to live out her years with. Her mother’s lessons in etiquette and tact have always influenced the way she speaks and acts, and although she is not the most graceful of ponies, she does believe she has the makings of a decent partner – someone thoughtful, compassionate, ready to equally spoil and nurture. Flower and gift giving, lazy afternoons spent indulging in sweets, nights full of wonder as they cuddle next to the bonfires on the market street and gaze at the stars. Somewhere in the big, wild world, she knows that there is someone who may be just as lonely and waiting for her to find her. Someone who won’t make fun of her habit of crying over spilt milk, who will be proud to walk next to her in the daylight. Unfortunately, Thomasin doesn’t have the courage to test love or destiny. So, for now, she looks out the window, imagining two princesses tackling the world and sharing all its’ treasures.

ENVIOUS: Because she is very insecure about her body, sometimes Thomasin can confuse jealousy with attraction. Usually, she knows to quiet her head and snuff out any intrusive thoughts, and she gives it every honest attempt to never judge a book by its cover; sometimes its like venom though, and it bleeds into her being. Once careful and timid Thomasin, only to abruptly shift into someone unrecognizable: a bitter shell of herself who is eager to share the venom. Thomasin would never imagine herself capable of hurting someone else with her words, but she – in her clouded state of mind – might attempt to sow the seeds of doubt instead. Misery loves company, and if she has to be uncomfortable in her existence, she would be inclined to project those insecurities. She might fool herself by saying she is only trying to humble a person, but she is painfully spiteful towards those who seem to be much happier than her: unearthly beautiful, a loving couple, a mother comforting her child in the street. It starts with a simple, “How come they have it better than I do?”; She will feel a familiar pang of resentment and there it will fester in her heart. Unfortunately, praying can only dampen it for so long

TW: emotional negligence, mentions of exposed organs and bleeding

The morning Thomasin was born was gray; the rain was a drizzle falling from the sky, new flowers were beginning to bud in her mothers’ garden. Her mother: Emmaline Gray; she loved to spend her free time gardening and praying. During the length of her pregnancy, Emmaline prayed diligently to Caligo for a beautiful daughter, one that resembled only her: blue-skinned, elegant, and with beauty akin to the night sky.

But instead of rejoicing as she delivered her awaited baby girl, she screamed with a horror that rattled the house. Her husband broke down that door rushing to her aide, excited – but terrified – to see his daughter. Thomasin’s father: Abraham Gray. A noble, steadfast, and wholesome man. He was involved with the maintenance of the night markets and lived a humble, grateful life. He, too, had prayed to Caligo, yet not for a beautiful daughter, but a healthy one.

“Abe! She’s gone! Look at her! Look at her dammit she’s dead!”

The wails would forever haunt Abraham as he drew closer. He looked at the boney body Emmaline wept over, so soft and pale and lifeless. His shoulders dropped with the weight of his immediate grief. Just when he was to move to console his screaming wife – he heard her. It was barely audible under the weeping, but he heard it. He was certain. A baby gasp, a soft wind, a gentle breath as she grasped to life. “Emma,” he whispered, “I can see her heart – and, and it’s beating, Emma.”

Emmaline pulled back her head to look at the baby crumpled into her front legs as Abraham laid beside her. To her horror, and his awe, he was right. Her torso was an open window framed by an exposed ribcage - her lungs and organs displayed, and a tiny heart struggling to find rhythm. But she managed to breathe again and opened her bright eyes.

“It’s – it’s insides –“

“Emma. Don’t speak like that.” Abraham shuffled the newborn out of her mother’s hold and into his own. He pressed his nose against her frail ribcage, feeling the quiet flutter of a weak pulse. He breathed in her new smell and closed his eyes to prevent tears from escaping. “Oh, Thomasin. We have waited for you for so long.”

“That is not Thomasin.”

Emmaline found the strength to stand up, but her comments fell on deaf ears. Abraham was in love with his daughter, and over time, Emmaline would muster the will to be fond of the child, but never love. No, she believed that she was being punished for the secrets she would ultimately take to the grave – the secret of an affair outside the court, the knowledge of bearing an illegitimate child. “Caligo, have mercy.”

Thomasin was made well aware of her ‘condition’ ever since she knew how to walk. While her mother would look on in disgust, her father was polar in that he coddled and sheltered her for her safety. Her parents would soon notice that one by one, her organs shifted and were shielded out of sight by cushions of moss. Ferns and flowers were emerging, intertwining with her ribcage and offering some sort of protection. Emmaline considered donating her to the medics in order to be studied - Abraham would refuse to let anyone prod at his daughter. As a yearling, Thomasin was eager for adventure and a slice of actual living.

For different reasons, Abraham and Emmaline both agreed on one thing: Thomasin was to never leave home until she was an adult. Abraham insisted she be protected at all costs. While he slaved to search for the knowledge on Thomasins’ perceived frailty, Emmaline was ashamed of her daughter’s sickly appearance. To both of their ignorance, there was never anything actually wrong with her.

Nevertheless, Emmaline would stay at home with the child and braid her hair, answering the little one’s questions with distaste.

“Mama, I don’t understand. I just wish to play with the children down the way –“

“Absolutely not, Thomasin. Just think of what happened last time. They picked one of your flowers and you made such a mess of it. I cant have you running around with all that hanging out, nobody needs to see – “ she paused, chewing on her words, savoring them before spitting them at Thomasin. “Your heart. Its not normal, Thomasin. Frankly, they are repulsed by your, well, your repugnance.”

“Repugnance?”

Emmaline sighed. She didn’t expect motherhood to be such a chore. She gave a half-hearted smile, “It’s ugly, and people don’t like ugly things.”

“Oh. . .” Thomasin sunk and sniffled. Her mother finished tending to her hair and placed a single flower behind her ear, which moved Thomasin to give a sad simper. “Don’t be sad, little lamb. Go pray, immediately.”

Praying. Caligo was suppose to bless Thomasin, but she didn’t feel very worthy of such blessings. As she begrudgingly dragged herself to the humble family altar, she dried her tears, and in her youthful ignorance, prayed to a deity she hated.

It was only through her father’s unyielding love that Thomasin would grow to change her opinion on Caligo. She would begin to believe she was blessed just because he loved her unconditionally, and what a love it was. On her third birthday, Thomasin and Abraham prayed together at the altar before starting their day. After their tribute, they traveled to the hillside to enjoy the rise of the moon and fresh spring air.

“Papa?” He turned his soft gaze to her and awaited her voice. “I want to travel with you to the Night Markets. You once told me how exciting they were, and – I am so sorry for eavesdropping – but mama asked you to get ingredients for a honey cake, and I just thought – I am sorry – I thought that maybe it would be nice to go get them with you for her. Don’t you think she’d like that?”

Abraham frowned. “Thomasin –“

“I’ll behave! I won’t touch or linger or ask any questions – Caligo’s honor. I promise."

“. . . Thomasin –“

“Papa! I want to go places! I am stuck in this silly house on this silly farm tending to the same s-s-stupid flowers! Please!”

“Thomasin!” Abraham’s roar muffled out his daughter’s plea. He spoke with restrained ferocity. “You will be grateful for the life you live.”

“But . . . Papa-”

“No, Thomasin. You are too precious to me. You must remember that we know nothing about your . . . condition. It is best to stay close to home. If anyone wished to harm you, they’d know exactly where to hurt you; You are so vulnerable and you don’t even kno-” He hesitated as he watched the tears well in his daughter’s eyes, choosing to soften his voice as to not further upset her.

“Sweet child, the world is full of wicked people. And you, my lamb, are a fragile soul. I am sorry, but I will not lose you.”

Thomasin blinked blindly through her tears as Abraham pulled her closer, running his maw along the crest of her little neck. “It is my job to protect you. And when I move on to my journey in Heaven, you will need to protect yourself. It is best you practice now. You can come with me another time.”

Thomasin would hold dear the conversation with her father, and even though she could not foretell the damage it would cause when she would reach womanhood, she treasured her alone time with Abraham. Yet, she knew he was lying to her. She would never go to the markets with him, and she would never know how much it pained him. Abraham could do no harm in her eyes though – not her righteous, steadfast, strong father. She would forgive him this time, and every time, he lied to her.

It would not be until her fourth birthday that she was permitted to leave her childhood home – and permitted is sugar-coating it. She was of age to begin womanhood, and Emmaline would aggressively insist that it was time to leave her parents dwelling and tackle the world by herself. It took a lot of convincing, but eventually, Abraham would agree in order to pacify his wife. It was his hardest goodbye.

Thomasin, unaware of where to go or how to act next, set out to begin her life. Although she believed Caligo would guide her steps, Thomasin was scared and alone. She would first follow the map her father bestowed to the Night Court, a place just barely familiar. Carrying her basket of flowers and sweets, she laid them on the mighty stones of the fortress as tribute to her Demi-Goddess, seeking guidance, courage, and wisdom. She listened to her heart-song and set out for the Night Markets, determined to stay true and follow the moon. With each shaking step, she mustered just enough bravery to explore a place that she had only heard of through her father’s stories. And when she arrived, she was bewildered.

Her ghostly eyes were hungry for all the new sights and her stomach grumbled with each warm, foreign smell. The bounty before her was almost enough to move her to tears: exotic fruits and sweet breads lining market stalls, trinkets and dazzling jewelry, fires that burned and casted dancing lights on the assortment of citizens – the people! In all shapes and colors, every face a unique arrangement of eyes and smiles and voices. Thomasin’s heart fluttered with a joy she had yet to ever experience, she marveled in the magic of this nightlife. What she didn’t know was this was how all of Night Court was – a melting pot of beautiful people and invigorating culture. How could she have missed out on this?

Was this living?

“You must be Thomasin Gray –“

Wide eyes began to search for whoever called out her name. An alien shape, tall and strong, and a voice that rivaled the warmth of the fires on the streets. “Come now, Abraham told me I might find you stumbling in the streets.” His eyes sparkled as Thomasin shifted uncomfortably to try and hide her heart. Seamus didn’t seem to notice, or maybe it was that he didn’t care to make a mockery of her like she thought he would.

“Seamus is my name. Let me introduce to my tavern.” A hint of mischief lay in his welcoming smile. “I hope you like to drink! Your first is on the house.”

“Drink?” the lamb asked, apprehension laced in her quiet voice. To which Seamus only responded with hearty laughter.

From this night on, Thomasin would learn to let down her walls around the people of her court – she also learned that drinking was not her forte, but she was thrilled to even be brave enough just to try it! What magic and wonders that were once hidden from her were beginning to show. All of Caligo’s masterful works were now as tangible as the ground beneath Thomasin’s feet.

The lamb felt just a little less of a lamb.