Description
“C’mere, love. Ye look like ye could use a hug an’ maybe a good pie.”
“I’m no' lost — the world just hasn’t caught up with me yet.”
“What’s life without a few scrapes, muddy boots, an’ a story t’ tell?”
Physical Appearance & Traits
- Hair ⚜ Strawberry blonde.. a red sun kissed hue to it. Her hair is constantly messy and can frequently find misplaced sticks or leaves as if she just ran through the bushes.
- Eyes ⚜ Green and kind. Squinted like a fox..
- Face ⚜ Mischevious yet warm and friendly. She's definitely cookin' up some sort of plan or another.
- Skin ⚜ Slightly tanned from being out in the sun.
- Height⚜ 5 ft. & 5 inches
- Age⚜ It's a might rude to ask a lady her age ya ken...
Demeanor & Behaviors
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Warm, lively, and full of mischief. ⚜ Lötte moves like someone who’s always half a step away from running into the woods. She laughs easily, speaks boldly, and tends to poke fun with a wink rather than a bite. Even when she’s causing trouble, there’s a sweetness to it — a forest-sprite charm that makes it hard to stay annoyed with her for long.
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Posture ⚜ Relaxed, open, and slightly restless — like she’s bracing for a sudden breeze to sweep her into adventure. She walks with a spring in her step and tends to lean forward when listening, bright-eyed and eager. When excited or plotting mischief, she rises onto the balls of her feet, hands clasped behind her back like a girl with a secret.
───-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-───
Likes
- Forests ⚜ They’re home — her sanctuary, her playground, her church. She knows their rhythms as well as her own heartbeat.
- Sunrises ⚜ The moment when the world feels brand new, when the mist glows like magic and the day whispers possibilities.
- Morning Dew ⚜ She likes brushing her hands through dew-soaked grass so she can flick droplets at people and pretend she’s casting tiny water spells.
- Apple Pie ⚜ Especially her mam’s recipe: buttery, spiced, and always just a little overbrowned on the edges.
Dislikes
- Long bouts of rain... ⚜ Not storms — storms she loves. But days of dreary, miserable drizzle that turn the world to gray mush? No thank you.
- Missing Breakfast ⚜ If she doesn’t get her morning bite, she gets feral. Even the birds steer clear.
- Pushiness ⚜ She’ll run straight into a burning bog before letting someone shove her around or boss her without respect.
- Fire ⚜ Open flame unsettles her — too unpredictable, too consuming. She’ll light a candle if she must, but bonfires make her step back.
Relationships
Bran Bjarnson ⚜ Lotte insists they're related in some way or another. But everytime Bran asks.. her answer changes. She might just be pulling his leg at this point... but they have known each other for a while.. She likes to poke the bear so to speak, and attempt at getting him riled up.. much to no avail.
Early Life on the Dubhsláine Farm
Lötte grew up on the kind of farm where the wind is always carrying the scent of peat smoke, wet earth, and freshly cut hay. Her family kept sheep, hardy highland cows, and an unruly flock of chickens that somehow obeyed her better than any human being.
From the moment she could walk, she was out the door—barefoot, mud-splattered, hair a mess of fiery strawberry-gold. Her freckles darkened every summer until it looked like someone dusted stars across her face. She was a child of the open air, forever climbing stone walls, racing the sheepdogs, or darting into the forest like a mischievous sprite.
Her front teeth grew in big and early, giving her a slight lisp that she was teased for in town—until she weaponized it with clever retorts and shameless confidence.
She’d grin, those big teeth flashing, and proudly say:
“Aye, an’ I bite too, ye gobshite.”
The Wisp of Bailecranach 🍀
The woods behind the Dubhsláine farm were Lötte’s second home. She named every glen, knew which trees were climbable and which were “grumpy,” and claimed she could understand the birds better than most adults.
Neighbors swore they’d see flashes of red hair in the treetops and hear giggling before something inexplicable happened—like their laundry ending up hoisted into a pine or their sheep dyed with harmless berry stains. Her mischief was never mean-spirited; in fact, families often found gifts afterward: bundles of herbs, a carved wooden charm, a basket of wild berries.
The priests said she had “a touch of fae in her.”
Her mother said she had “too much free time.”
Lötte said she was “just bein’ alive.”
Clever as a Fox, Gentle as Moss
Though rambunctious, Lötte had an uncannily gentle way with animals. Lost lambs followed her. Wild foxes approached her without fear. Even the old draft horses that tolerated no one else let her braid flowers in their manes.
Her cleverness showed early—she built elaborate snares (never harmful) that could catch thieves or prank bullies; she talked her way out of trouble with sparkling wit; she had a knack for spotting the one detail everyone else missed.
She never carried grudges. The worst she’d do was give someone a soaking with a bucket balanced on a door.
Frostfall, Mending Fences 🏔️
When Lötte was around seventeen, a brutal winter storm tore through Bailecranach. A section of the Dubhsláine fence collapsed, and several sheep wandered into the high forests of the nearby mountains. Her father assumed they were lost to wolves.
Lötte refused to accept that.
She marched into the storm alone, guided only by instinct, the faint bleats carried on the wind, and her own stubborn fire. Hours later she returned—half-frozen but triumphant—driving all the sheep ahead of her with a branch like a shepherd’s staff.
Some say Lötte met someone up in the mountains to guide her through the snow.. but they don't know what they're talkin' about!
After that night, the villagers saw her not just as a troublemaker but as something steadfast and extraordinarily brave.
Her father carved her a proper shepherd’s crook and said,
“Yer wild as a storm, lass… but ye’re our storm.”
The Call Beyond the Farm
As she grew older, her restless nature only intensified. Though she loved her home fiercely, she felt a tug—like the wind was pulling her toward roads unknown.
Some say she left to see the wider world.
Some say she followed strange tracks in the forest that didn’t belong to any earthly beast.
Some say the fae whispered her name in her dreams.
Whatever the truth, Lötte Dubhsláine packed a small satchel, kissed her family goodbye, and strode into the dawn with a grin and the words:
“Don’t worry, I’ll come home when I’ve seen every corner o’ the world—or when the world’s had enough o’ me.”