Ephemeral and perpetually windswept, standing a little off to the side as they watch the passing crowds with a faraway, almost wistful expression. If you're one of their few acquaintances, perhaps they'll drop the glamour and smile at you with moonwashed eyes, flicking an ear dusted with frost, the glaucous leaves woven in their hair and draped over their wings waving in an invisible breeze. Despite the illusion of weightlessness, the air around them is heavy with chill, pressing on your shoulders as familiarly as an old friend. They shift frequently and silently from moment to moment, clothes changing seamlessly with them. In the course of a long conversation they'll shrink two inches, flyaway hair shorter than when they began, blunt-edged sparrow wings thinning to a swift's and back again. They’re a study in contradictions, and the concerning thing is that they don't seem to realise it.

Those who first encounter Madelon often describe them as distant, mysterious and otherworldly. Noticing them in the first place requires a base amount of latent magical ability; whereas humans tend to either overlook their presence entirely or are too intimidated to approach, their kin consider them an abomination and shun them for being an avatar of foreign and hostile magic, leaving them skittish and wary of rejection. Due to being centuries out of practice with interacting with anyone other than their instructors and the Winter Court, they're hesitant in social situations and prefer listening over talking, absorbing new information and situations with undisguised fascination. Though awkward, sheltered and naive, Madelon is not without their pride and will defend it when underestimated or disregarded, even disproportionately so, as the fey have no real concept of restraint. At no time does their alienness become more apparent when they're glittering with fistfuls of congealed gore, the passably mortal shell melting away into something glaciated and Other. Flashes of terrifying morality aside, they're soft and empathetic, prone to self-doubt and insecurity, with an almost embarrassingly apparent need to be appreciated and liked.

POWERS

‣ Immortality: While other fey may seek out human company for business or pleasure, the Winter Court has always been distant to those not of their kind, and the entryway to its realm lies somewhere within the frozen wastes of Antarctica, where one dimension bleeds into another. Time is... strange, in the Otherworld, and Madelon spent centuries to prove themselves as a true heir of winter, worthy of being stationed in the hallowed halls forevermore. Their mind remained remarkably whole in the process of shedding their mortal form, possibly due to their early Mark, and thinking back on it Madelon is surprised that they didn’t go mad entirely. Their bodiless spirit is frozen in eternal youth, as is the Court’s way, and their flesh made as solid and unyielding as permafrost. Any wound freezes shut before blood can escape.

‣ Cryokinesis: The Winter Queen kissed her successor's forehead as a mark of her approval. Madelon still bears the scar, perpetually blue-white from frostbite, but the effects run much, much deeper. They emanate a bone-deep chill and feel frozen to the touch, enough to cause tissue damage over prolonged periods of contact. Any room they step into quickly drops in temperature, and tendrils of frost spiderweb over any surface they breathe on. Their berries are blessed (or cursed, depending on your view) to never melt, freezing everything in its path like a ball of liquid hydrogen. Eating one of them, as temptingly bright as they are, may be the last thing you ever do — if you're lucky, it'll merely cause major organ damage before burning its way out of your flesh, but if lodged against bone it'll cause tremendous and unceasing pain until your death (or for perpetuity, if you're immortal). While Madelon can enhance these effects and exercise enough control to keep from harming others, they are unable to turn them off, as the cold is intrinsically part of them in a way their mortal body isn't anymore.

‣ Weather Control: Madelon can summon freezing rain, snow, hail, and even full-blown winter storms if the climate or season is already cold enough. Their standard powers are honed and amplified through the Winter Court’s elemental magic; while their telekinesis is only slightly stronger than the average Nerilaux’s in intensity, it affects much greater distances. With a custom staff built to properly withstand their full potential, they could summon blizzards and extratropical cyclones, but the Pegtropolis crafters refused to fit one for them, not without good reason. Practically speaking, Madelon is also more accurate than any forecast due to their preternatural affinity for the weather.

‣ Shapeshifting: While most Nerilaux can shift to a pegasus form at will, Madelon can only ever seem to manage it when startled or panicked out of their wits. They're rather jealous of Wenes for having no such problem with his stag form despite being far beyond the boundaries of his native Court. They’re quite small at 14 hands (142cm), about the size of a large pony: built for endurance running, not sprinting, which would be more useful if they could actually maintain it for any given timespan. Wenes believes that Madelon has trouble shapeshifting because they've always had to have a firm grasp on who they are, always pushing (unconsciously or consciously) to stay them within the isolating Winter Court. As a pegasus they also radiate cold, only slightly mitigated by their minky-soft fur and silky mane.

‣ Swordsmanship: Before their exile, Madelon briefly descended to Earth to learn how to swordfight because no Nerilaux school would take them. Due to their lack of a believable background, the instructors they found were... dubious, to say the least, and their training was cut short by the trials of the Winter Court. Alone, they expanded on the basic moves they'd learnt by practicing on snow dummies, resulting in a unique fusion of swordplay and (unconsciously channeled) elemental magic. While Madelon's "fencing" would get them laughed out of any formal training ring in Pegtropolis, the attacks are nonetheless graceful in their own way, utilizing high wind and flurries of snow against their opponents to maneuver and drive them back.

‣ Trans-Dimensional Travel: Being neither fully physical nor spirit, Madelon can access the in-between state separating the mortal plane from the spirit one. They're not as good at it as the fey are — the Otherworld rules them, rather than the other way around — but with concentration and visualisation they can appear wherever they like by stepping into the space between and then out to another location. Their burgeoning elemental powers unconsciously draw them to certain places on Earth, most often the middle of nowhere with tempetuous nexuses of harsh weather to feed their own. More often than not, paying insufficient attention means that the next portal they open will end up dropping them straight into the ocean, and Madelon's suffered enough nasty shocks this way that they won't teleport if there are any other options available, let alone risk it with a passenger in tow.