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Backgrounds:

Resources 2: Butterfly/moth breeding - Lepidopterist
Mentor 1: Charlotte Webb, Accused of Being a member of the Shadow Court and in hiding
Treasures 4: Governess' Parasol (Wayfare 4, Open it up and fly away…)

Merits:

Common Sense - 1 pt

Flaws:

Dangerous Mentor - 1pt
(Charlotte Webb, dark sorceress who has withdrawn from society following allegations of involvement with the Shadow Court)

Willpower: 5 / 5
Glamour: 5 / 5
Banality: 3 / 3
Nightmare: 0 / 0
Antithesis: Maliciously killing a butterfly or moth
Ravaging/Musing Threshold: Create Dreams/Destroy illusions

Confidante: May make a Perception+Empathy or Subterfuge, resisted by listener's willpower, each success is one question that the pooka gets answered.
Shapeshift (Pandora Moth): May shapeshift into a pandora moth, costs 1 glamour if witnessed by other fae or enchanted mortals, unable to shapeshift witnessed by mundane mortals.

Autumn 2
Soothsay 1
Pyretics 1

Actor 2
Fae 2
Prop 2

Physical Description:
Mortal Mien: A worn fedora, thrift store suit and an old London Fog coat were almost a uniform. A pair of red-tinted John Lennons sat on the angular face with a dark Van Dyke beard. He's in his early thirties with a touch of grey on his temples, and crows feet and rather thick eyebrows frame his greenish grey eyes. He always carries this old umbrella with a duck's head handle.
Fae Mien: The coat takes on a fur collar and a symmetrical brown and grey pattern. The suit is of silk with autumnal leaves embroidered on the trim and tie. His eyes are large, black orbs that felt like an abyss staring back at you… or something oddly soulful. A pair of feathered antennae sweep up and out from his eyebrows. The smell of autumn hovers about him. The umbrella was pristine, with the handle now made of an iridescent, ivory material, gilded ribs and a lunargent tip.

Personality:
Indrid Cold is gentle with his creatures, distant with strangers, can be charming with friends. But generally, he can come off as some horror movie villain; the creepy, quiet being that might be some eldritch horror.

Backstory:
He wasn’t born with the name, but it is one he took up after his Chrysalis; Indrid Cold is no butterfly. From a young age, he was unassuming and had a fascination with fluttering insects. This didn’t make him popular around other children. He was often left to his own devices with a handful of the other outcaste children of the schoolyard. The bullies took their shots at him, he wouldn’t really fight back; though, they did suffer some bad accidents here and there. Growing up, he learned to appreciate more than just the butterflies; it was the moths that did so much more. They spun powerful silk around themselves, melted their bodies down and remodeled themselves into something more. He felt like the grounded caterpillar, he waited for the moment he would get his wings. As he entered his teens, he decided to learn to self-actualize on his own. Everyone had given up on his normalcy and this gave him the privacy to learn different and varying spiritual practices. It was in college he began to experiment with drugs, hoping that his own spiritual chrysalis just needed a chemical catalyst. He thought he fried his brain when he began to see and hear things when he thought he was sober. It wasn’t until one night he saw a glowing worm that prompted him to follow. He followed it into the wooded area by the school, into a glade. The area was awash in the glow of caterpillars and worms, gathering up the trunks and hanging from the branches. Indrid closed his eyes and began to weave a cocoon of dreams and nightmares around him. He felt his old self dissolve into an emulsion of absolute possibilities, rebuilding himself into something that can escape his terrestrial prison. When he emerged, it was without wings but not without power, or new allies. He was met by Charlotte, a spider pooka. She gave him an offer, stay with her and learn… or else. Indrid felt he had no choice but to accept her offer and leave school behind. Together, they roamed Concordia as she taught him about Kithain societies. She taught him the ways of the Pooka, she taught him the ways of the sorcerer. It was about the time he won the Parasol from a fairy-godmother-esque sidhe that Charlotte was accused of being a Shadow Courtier. He thought of it as suspicious, but Charlotte left him without a word. It cut deep and drove him to question everything. Was she Shadow Court? If she was, why not include him? Why not just take him with her? He withdrew from the courts as he tried to find answers. She was clever and taught him everything he knew; she was gone to him. Accepting this, he has decided to settle down for once and see if he can try a new tactic. He has his home, he has fluttering bugs, now he will wait patiently like a spider. She’ll come to him and there will be answers.

Notes: