Rodina Shiras has spent most of her life on the rocky coast of Maine. The daughter of a lighthouse keeper in an age that has no need for lighthouses, she learned to love the sea for its own sake and to hear the music of the waves and the mournful, yearning cry of the gulls. A modest student, she chose to go to a community college so she could remain close to her elderly parents and the ocean. Her mother died of a stroke before she completed her studies and her father followed her in death the following year. By the time Rodina was twenty, she had nothing left except the ocean and its music.
Then the visions came. In 1969, as men walked on the moon and wonder returned to the world, she felt stirrings within her she couldn't explain. She started having dreams that seemed to come from outside of her. She saw a host of men and women of unearthly beauty and power on steeds, riding through dark, twisted landscapes toward an archway limned in glowing colors. Sounds of battle and pain filled her ears as horrid creatures assaulted the fair riders. She woke, trembling, and fled to her favorite beach for comfort. There, she entered her Chrysalis.
Several months passed before anyone came to fetch her and when her mentor, an Eshu grump named Ibrahim, finally came, she refused to leave her home. Thus Rodina, now Yordana, learned of fae society from a storyteller and nomad. She also learned from her visions.
The two became lovers and she received an education in the arts of love as well. Ibrahim introduced her to the nearest noble, Baron Guntherian ap Dougal, who graciously welcomed his newest subject and granted her an ember from his own Balefire to transform her lighthouse into a freehold. Though she was happy for knowledge that others likelier existed, she preferred the company of sand and rock and sea. She and Ibrahim returned to the lighthouse and each other.
When he finally announced that he could no longer remain with her but answer the call of distant lands, Yordana felt a part of herself wither away. She knew, though, that the feeling belonged to the cycle of years that made up a lifetime. Her maidenhood had ended and it was time to concentrate on other changes within her. Seven months later, Yordana bore a child whose Chrysalis she saw in a dream. The local midwives in the small community delivered the child, who grew into a strong, willful creature who loved the ocean as much as her mother. When Siriana turned five, she Chrysalised, revealing herself as an eshu like her father.
Yordana cherished her years with her daughter, knowing eventually she would feel the call of her kith and take to the road. Dreams and visions continued to come to her, however, and as the years passed, the images she received grew darker and more ominous. When Siriana's urge to travel finally manifested, Yordana saw that her child could serve as a messenger, bearing her prophesies to the wider changeling community. And so, satyr prophet and eshu messenger developed a reputation for wisdom and prescience. So passed the summer of Yordana's life.
As her wilder years slipped form her, Yordana sensed a change in her nature. The manners of the Seelie court no linger drew her as the aches in her bones and the fading of colors from her sight reminded her that her own autumn and winter approached. As if in response, a trio of changelings; two sidhe and a fellow satyr, appeared at her freehold asking for hospitality. Receiving permission, they then introduced themselves as members of the Shadow Court and told her that their own visions had brought them to the lighthouse.
Yordana's instincts told her to trust them and, at the end of their stay, she allowed them to induct her into the Shadow Court, affirming her transition from Seelie to Unseelie as well as her shift to grumphood. As her dreams came more frequently and brought with them warnings of harsh Winter, she passed from mother to crone.
With the disappearance of High King David, her visions seemed to explode within her, taking her in her waking ours as well as while sleeping (or trying to sleep.) Her body wasted away to nothing: skin and muscle stretched like taught wires over angular bones. Her eyes burned with urgency. Siriana returned to the lighthouse, drawn by her eshu birthright to her mother's side. As words poured from Yordana, her daughter committed them to memory and to parchment.
At last, the words stopped and Yordana had time to reflect on what she had seen and prophesied. Though she doesn't speak all her thoughts aloud, she has already begun to turn the death of the world.
This crone-like satyr dressed in a style reminiscent of ancient Greece. Though obviously old, she carries herself with dignity. Her hair is peppered with grey but held in intricate Greek fashion atop her head. She wears a necklace of interlocked design centered by a large, square-cut stone. Her eyes are large and intelligent, though surrounded by crow's feet and laugh lines. Her mouth is generous. She gives the impression of wisdom and maturity combined with a sexuality that defies age.
Yordana has learned to accept that one day she will forget who she is. Like the world's death in the deepest part of winter, so, too, shall her spirit sleep within her body, awaiting a new quickening in a different shell. She doesn't waste precious time with falsities or courtesies. She says what she has to say, doesn't soften the edge of her prophecies and, above all, doesn't betray her visions. Winter is coming. Terrible things haunt her dreams. Those who seek her out for guidance must know the truth or disaster will follow.