Seeming: Fairest
Kith: Notary
Court: Autumn

Mask: Humenyuk's mask is a study in contradictions, simultaneously revealing much and nothing about the Changeling beneath. Small of stature and slim of frame, somehow she manages to fill the space with her presence despite her smallness. Her build, tapered limbs and wiry muscle, bring to mind the career woman with a multi-decade yoga practice; the suburban SoulCyclist; the religious once-a-month juice cleanser. Where she sits, she looks as though she has always been there.  The space she occupies?  She owns.  She was clearly once a stunning beauty, blonde and blue-eyed as every homecoming queen in collective memory, but the spring of her youth was now well behind her. The attractive crow's feet creasing the corners of her pale eyes put her somewhere in her late forties.  Her looks have hardened somewhat as the long years have passed, but they have not faded.  Her presence is familiar, though not exactly comforting.  Nostalgic in a way that suggests less the golden glow of one's youth than the ticking clock of middle age. It is evocative for any onlooker, unsettling in a manner difficult to put to words. She quite literally cannot be ignored, but her presence within the awareness of those about her is a challenging one.

Mein: Her true self is far too large, too vast, to be contained within her mortal mask. Like an Ogre, she hulks within the much smaller deception she has woven. It is not flesh and muscle that makes up her bulk though, for she was warped and molded as one of the Fairest. A delicate framework of ivory and bone, like six pairs of wings out from her back. With these she was dressed in the fruits of her durance, adorned in Pledges and Contracts.  Not written words or papers, for her Keeper's mind was far more alien than that, but in textiles and metaphor.  A gossamer wedding veil for a Heart's Oath, copper pennies sewn into a shawl for the Secrets of the Dead River, a streamer of red silk for a Dueling Pledge. Layer upon layer, ethereal and ghostly, and each with the bronze key that unlocked the Contract it represented. Her journey through the thorns ripped these fabrics to shreds and tatters, yet as long as the key remains she still remembers every Pledge they bound. She is strong with Autumn, and it is unclear if these enveloping textiles and the framework which support them are her actual form, or merely an extension of her Ashen Mantle. Her gaze is hidden within her cowl, but no one can question when it falls upon them. The sheer arcane power it holds is a palpable thing, the biting wind and crackling lightning she summons when roused almost an afterthought. It would have to be, for her to have called so much of Autumn's power to herself in such a short time.

All told, she stands perhaps six feet tall beneath all the cloth. She would be even taller were she not hunched, wrapped and bundled in her faded and moth eaten fabrics. Dozens of bronze keys hang from chords, and only she knows the locks that they open. Each step she takes brings with it a jingling of keys, eerie and just at the edges of perception.