Most thought, when first they laid eyes upon her, that she was blind. It was a logical thought, to be sure, because of her unique orbs. Where normally there was an iris, there lay instead an extension of her sclera, stripping her orbs of any coloring aside from the devoid blackness of her pupil. This of course was not the case - her Iris still existed, but it was stripped genetically of its coloring. And so her orbs showed life in its truest form - black and white. All of life had stark duality - male and female, young and old, night and day, death and life. Thus was the same with her orbs, and though people thought her blind, she was not and could see just fine, perhaps more than most. Not only did she have her vision, but she also held a unique ability to empathize with others, too study their body language and delve their true intentions by the subtle cues they gave off subconsciously. With a single look, the fae would judge whoever she came across, sometimes harshly. To her, the first impression met everything, for it showed how you interacted with a stranger. Was it with immediate distrust, anger, rage, concern, care? The first thought that would cross through their mind revealed much about their character.

Nimueh was... Different. Where she hailed from, she had once been highly thought of. She had been given the title of High Priestess for the very traits described. Often she was asked to be judge and jury when there were disputes or whenever a crime was committed in the province. Her sharp mind lent her the ability to be adviser to many high ranking leaders, and had allowed her to rule within her own sect. Because she was expected to be intelligent on all matters so that she could aptly advise, and delegate others to certain jobs, she had had the resident healers teach her about herbs, but found that the things that most interested her were not healing, but hurting. Why send warriors into battle, to risk or perhaps give up their lives all together, when the enemy could instead easily be taken out by a poison in their food or water source? It was simple and logical - two things that she rushed. There was no reason to work harder or longer than was necessary.

Thus had it been that the King who ruled over their state, who had made formal her appointment, one of her oldest friends, had come to her with a problem that he had needed fixed - his wife, the love of his life, could not conceive. Long and far had her tendrils sought, looking for the most skilled of healers, of shamans, until finally Uther had had success in impregnating his wife. They had given birth to a beautiful boy... But Uther's wife had died during her whelpings and Uther's gratitude quickly turned to hurt and rage. Within a fortnight, Nimueh had been stripped of her rank and exiled from the sisterhood all together. Her position had been her life - not because of the power she had been allotted, but because of the respect for her years of hard work, an understanding of her skills.

Now, she traveled through the lands searching for a place for her to dig in her roots and start anew. Her iced orbs judged each land harshly, and she quickly left any land that was diseased or dying. Why would anyone in their right mind join into the life of a land that would not make it long? The fae sought to make herself a new home only once, and would not squander it. Her long, thin limbs carried her over the lands slowly but steadily. She dare not push her pace, lest she exhaust herself. She needed to reserve her ability to speed away from any danger she may encounter, and the fae would not be able to continue any escape plan for too long. She had been a premature pup, and it had resulted in her frailty. It lent to her beauty, making her look like a gentle flower, the idyllic picture of an angel... But she tired easily, and had perhaps half off the strength that another of her size should possess. But her cunning mind got her out of nearly any situation, and if need be she could rely on her long limbs to deliver her from danger, though it was a last effort as she did not have much endurance.

She was of a rare breed - Iberian blood - and so as she now trotted into this new led, it was with a rush of colors, but mainly russet that covered her body. Black and grey peppered her dorsum, limbs, and tail, but the rust coloring that usually merely flecked pelts was her main color. And, for the first time since she left home, a smile crossed her features... For this land was alive. Her orbs caught sight of prey and predator alike, and the faintest scents of different provinces crossed her nares. 'Yes...' she thought. 'Yes, this is where I shall remain until the end of my days.' Deeper into this country she traveled, picking her way over trails well worn, feeling the ground alive beneath her. Soil was not just soil to the ess - in each place it had a slightly different texture and scent, which differed depending on its composition, its health, the rainfall. And this soil? This soil was rich with life. Around her was vegetation that left nothing to be wanted. It was enough to support large herds of prey, and thus, large packs of predators. For hours she traveled at a slow leisurely pace which to her was somewhat strenuous due to her delicate form, no idea on where she was going, no idea as to where she wanted to end up, and for whatever reason - be it fate or coincidence, her pads brought her to a place where soil left the land, replaced by soft silt and the taste of salt and heavy humidity. As she stared at the lake before her, the glass surface extending out as far as she could see, Nimueh noted a break in the exact detailed lines of the scenery, a lupine form that seemed to both belong and be intrusive. Even as her colorless eyes watched, the oddly painted wolfess tilted her head back in a call, a demand for attention, a request for attendance. Seeing as Nimueh had no where better to be, she approached the stranger and allowed her plume to paint its way up one side of her bodice, around her chest, and around to the other side before finally her rear lowered to the damp sand below. "I am lucky that this is a lake rather than a tremoring ocean. Always it will be that enemies attack from behind, and at least with the lake I can be sure that no currents will be sweeping up to reach me, urged on by the moon's pull, seeking her affirmation through the murder of naive innocents." Pupils swivelled in her socket to stare at the femme who sat in a different direction than she did, two black pinpoints amass a marble of white. "But I am no naive innocent, nor an innocent at all." Here, a single lid closed in a wink before her gaze swiveled to once more fall upon the woods. "Are you worthy then, of whatever it is that you seek? Or when time becomes rough will courage fail you, your soldiers desert you, all because you sought to reach too far for the stars when all you deserved was the dirt that your mother dumped you upon at birth?"