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Cold, logical, and thoughtful, the Seer is nothing if not odd. When she speaks, people listen--not because she demands respect, but because what she says more often than not comes true. As for her lack of facial features? She has the others, she just doesn't understand why they must be shown all the time.
Except that's not true. Her personality and thoughts are now longer her own; a mental fog has pervaded her mind. While her visions still ring true, more often than not they come out in fragments rather than any coherent sentences. She was once of great importance, not in her on-stage actions but those she has performed behind the scenes. Her precognitive abilities were once to be reckoned with, her predictions absolute. Such prowess afforded her the Narrator's approval--for a time.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Legends say she was once a Dryad, whisked away after an ill-fated performance rid the Stage of a psychic role. Her name was lost to time, identity all but forgotten to all but The Enchanted Forest's denizens. Even then, the memory of her is quickly fading after such a long absence. She took to her role well, the tale says, but the transformation spell the Narrator cast did not take as well. Every so often patches of bark cover her body, popping up particularly in times of vulnerability--emotional or otherwise. To combat this, The Seer has elected to cover the bark with a simple illusion spell, with the price of obscuring everything else beneath it. Her mouth, for instance.
With that settled, her role and power were nearly unmatched; it seemed only the Narrator could prevent her prophecies from coming true. More often than not, he would let them pass; they often benefited his plans, after all, but eventually the predictions grew dangerous. They spoke of rebellion, revolution; the Stage, the Narrator argued with The Seer, did not need such talk. They were already unstable as it was.
So he silenced her. One day she was herself, and then the next she was broken. Her mind was twisted, her voice no longer powerful and instead soft, whispering. She has stayed this way for countless years, constantly questioning herself and the circumstances that brought her to ruin. A small part of her remains, but not nearly enough to fix her. She does not know why, but she feels she's missing something--like part of her has been severed. Ever since the Narrator's fall, she can be found still wandering the castle, mumbling all the while. If you're lucky, you might get a few words of a prophecy out of her, but they're few and far between.
She and the Dreamer scry often; the Seer does not know how she knows the spell, but she's grateful she does nonetheless. Before her fall from grace, she acted as The Dreamer's adopted older sister.
True Name: Cassandra
