Eiche

He speaks with a thick, rough accent, in broken sentences and with harsh, foreign words thrown in. When you ask where he is from, he smiles and tells you he's a long way away from home. But it's all right, it's all right. There's work to be done here, he says, help to be given, and hope. He is not home, but this place needs him, so he stays.

The house is warm and comfortable, basked in the orange glow of candles and the roaring fire in the hearth. The furniture is wooden, and so are the walls and the floors, worn looking but solid, cared for. There are plants growing everywhere, on the windowsill and on the heavy wooden furniture, flowers blooming on the table, in pots and glasses and boxes, filling the entire space, and you wonder how they thrive when it's always winter here. It smells of spring, of crocuses and hellebore and snowdrops, of lilac and snowdrift, a jarring contrast to the cold bite of ice from outside.

He settles you down by the fire, on an old rocking chair covered in soft, worn blankets. He gives you a cup of hot chocolate, and a smile, bright as a spring morning, and you can't help but smile back and think, it will be all right.

It's winter, outside, bitterly so, the wind howling and rattling at the door, snow packed high on the streets of the village.
But in here, it's spring, and it will always be.

Eiche is a Wolpertinger, an a small creature from Bavarian folklore, typically a mixture of rabbit and other small animals. Eiche himself looks like a little brown rabbit with antlers, duck wings, a rooster's tail and hooved feet. His fur is speckled with iridiscent spots and tufts, moreso around the ears and wings. He has sharp little teeth and two pointed fangs rather than buck teeth, and a splattering of white freckles all over.
More often than not, he can be found carrying handfuls of spring flowers, crocus, daffodyls, lilacs, tulips, daisies, anything you can think of. He wears them in his fur and on his clothes, weaves them through his feathers and stitches them into his clothes, which can very from simple shoulder shrugs to little tailored vests.

He is a very gentle and kind person, soft and caring and chipper. His presence is very calming and warm, and he always smells like wildflowers, even in the deepest of winter. He always seems slightly out of place in the village he's come to call home, because he's so obviously a member of some Court of Spring, wrapped in new-life magic, but he insists he is more needed here than he is at home. There is a certain gentle melancholy to him, sometimes, but he will shed it quickly when around people.

• His markings and colors are not set in stone, don't worry about following his artwork too closely or anything.
• Clothes can vary.
• Prone to carrying flowers at least somewhere on his person.