Status: Available Everywhere But Valesport
Name: Dilleachta
Known Aliases: Leah
Age: 34
Sex: ♀
Gender: ♀
Sexuality: ☹
Height: 1 meter
Weight: 18 kg
Species/Ethnicity: Homunculus
Skin Color: #f5eff1
Eye Color: #9b111e
Hair Color: #000000
Suspicious Resemblance To: a ball-jointed doll
Known Affiliations: Ｔｈｅ Ｍａｃｈｉｎｅ, Ben Cook, Hale Francis, Jean Cernunnos, Alisdair, Kandajha
Marital Status: Single
About:
Leah is a courier. She delivers exactly what is needed, exactly when it is needed. Sometimes it's a particular item, sometimes it's information, sometimes it's a person, sometimes it's a door.
It would be a very confusing job, but Leah is good at not thinking about it too hard. Not thinking about things is her specialty.
She hides her tail beneath her skirt and wears fake nails to hide her claws. She pulls her hair tight to hide her curls and she wears makeup to pretend her skin has flaws. There's nothing she can do about the cat ears on top of her head, and even less she can do about being three feet tall. But she is a professional, and she acts like it, and sometimes that's enough.
Leah is angry. Always, and unfailingly angry. She does not like to be touched. She does not like to be watched. She will discuss contracts for work, but she does not like to hold a conversation. Displays of affection repulse her. So does the violin. Her job is her life, and she likes it that way. As much as she likes anything. She can't cheer herself up by thinking back on the good times, because that just makes her angrier.
She likes trashy reality television and celebrity gossip, and knowing that the people she's been sent to work with are probably worse off than she is. She likes knowing that there are no happy endings, and that getting what you wished for usually leaves you worse off than the alternative.
If a small and cat-eared woman with a briefcase appears to offer exactly what you need, it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Ｔｈｅ Ｍａｃｈｉｎｅ doesn't offer twice.
It would be a very confusing job, but Leah is good at not thinking about it too hard. Not thinking about things is her specialty.
She hides her tail beneath her skirt and wears fake nails to hide her claws. She pulls her hair tight to hide her curls and she wears makeup to pretend her skin has flaws. There's nothing she can do about the cat ears on top of her head, and even less she can do about being three feet tall. But she is a professional, and she acts like it, and sometimes that's enough.
Leah is angry. Always, and unfailingly angry. She does not like to be touched. She does not like to be watched. She will discuss contracts for work, but she does not like to hold a conversation. Displays of affection repulse her. So does the violin. Her job is her life, and she likes it that way. As much as she likes anything. She can't cheer herself up by thinking back on the good times, because that just makes her angrier.
She likes trashy reality television and celebrity gossip, and knowing that the people she's been sent to work with are probably worse off than she is. She likes knowing that there are no happy endings, and that getting what you wished for usually leaves you worse off than the alternative.
If a small and cat-eared woman with a briefcase appears to offer exactly what you need, it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Ｔｈｅ Ｍａｃｈｉｎｅ doesn't offer twice.