Profile
masterlist . gp tracker . aesthetic
hunting season begins. the horses are picture perfect until they splash through the muddy ditches and tear between the dense trees, and the hounds crow with excitement as they throw themselves through the thicket. but they’ll soon find themselves running in circles - they’ve been outsmarted by a fox.
it’s scary being small, but they’ve got the smarts to win. the old manor’s land is their playground. their eyes and enchantment glimmering, and now that they’re a spirit they’re untouchable.
available as a creator
can be depicted in artwork, writing, and interactions
- she's the size of a kitten, with spindly legs and a little nub tail
- her collar and tutu are made of ink cap mushroom which appear to drip black ink
- beneath her paws she'll leave glowing foot prints - not her own but of various animals, in order to confuse anyone tracking them
- she has a touch of pink by her eyes but is otherwise completely black and white
- she dances and bounds energetically, flitting from hiding place to hiding place
manor grounds
the grounds of the manor are expansive, most of it striped lawns and manicured hedges and neat flower beds, with a cosy dovecote standing high above it all. further away, the natural woodlands and meadows surrounding the lawns are where the wildlife are left to live and breed to later be hunted. there are paths aplenty and even more ink caps and foliage to hide in.
crafty fox
it was a yearly occasion that the family of red foxes would hide away deep in their dens, filling in the entrances with loose dirt and collected debris, leaving only as necessary but preferably not at all. the thundering hooves of warmbloods would roar by overhead, after the braying hounds’ pattering paw steps that spread across the forest. except one fox: a particularly sly individual, wicked fast and quick to learn new tricks. she’d dash about the forest and meadows leaving a maze of a trail, and then hide out of reach to watch the ensuing madness.
but every fox gets old and tired. one autumn day, slow and panting after a long morning’s work, she’s found trotting through the lawn by a strange little flowered bird. the spirit offers her peace, and freedom, and all the energy she could ever need - at the cost of leaving her skulk.
jittery, trickster
at heart, Briar is still as sly and nonchalant as a fox - but foxes (herself and the family she left behind) are also small and hunted, so her worries are not unfounded. she haunts the manor’s ornate gardens, an anxious sentinel watching and waiting until the hunts begin and her tricks are needed - a pattern that’s repeated annually. her purpose has always been the most important thing to her, and despite her fears she loves it.
the rest of her time is spent leisurely. she likes to watch over her world from the dovecote - the birds don’t mind sharing it. she enjoys wandering the conservatory’s magical rooms, playing with Bouquet and any other small visitors who stop by, and she has a strange fondness for the children of the village. she watches their games and dances and admires the opulence of their lifestyle - perhaps that’s what inspired her dramatic markings and frills of nature features. her speech pattern, too, is posh and precise, feminine and maybe a little haughty.
she’ll perform transformations if asked, though there’s little need for any in her boundary. she makes sure everything’s as it should be.
Briar can’t be touched by the hounds, and so she taunts them with confusing trails of temptingly scented paw prints that spread across the ground in her wake - her enchantment of false tracks, which formed after her first year as an esk.
her vibratory signature is so quiet it can barely be heard - just like her pawsteps, after years of habitually sneaking about.
her mushroom nature features continuously dribble their ink-like liquid, but they never decrease in size and the ink drops evaporate away after a few minutes.
creator
Bouquet doesn’t really understand Briar’s duties, but they enjoy playing in the flowerbeds and hedge maze with her whenever she stops by.
