A girl with sleepy eyes— colorless kaleidoscopes captured in an iris— and an even sleepier smile (oh, how delicate a curve!), Eudora is a creature of ultimate benevolence. Charitable to a worrisome degree, her compassion bleeds through every breath she takes and word she speaks. Delicate is her lilting voice, musical even without a melody, and bringing ease to those who care to listen— oftentimes prompting heavy lids and stifled yawns.

And should you need an ear, she is happy to offer hers, possessing a rational mind that will alleviate your concerns or bear through your woes alongside you. Having given up her own heart long ago, the woman indulges in the emotions of others...

So saccharine is she, you’d think her faultless, for even when furious she seldom raises her voice. But amongst her virtues, honesty ranks relatively low. Hard truths are bitter pills to swallow, and the one kindness she offers more readily than any other is her white lies. And it is a kindness she bestows, most definitely, to cushion truths.

Particularly when it comes to breaching matters of the heart— for a great deal of pessimism and despair that represses any attempt at crossing the boundary of acquaintances. Eudora’s interpersonal skills are indeed far from lacking, but daunting nightmares keep the witch on a tight leash.

From her lack of connections blooms another problem regarding trust— she is willing, most definitely, to sacrifice her well-being for your sake, but when faced with one loss versus five, Eudora will yield, and live another day to regret.

For most people, childhood is a smeared canvas, with certain memories providing pops of color more coherent than the rest, but she remembers. Keenly. What blood ties she possessed were too insignificant to be worth any note, their appearance far too brief.

Rather, it was a family of eight misfits, the oldest a mere decade older than she, who was two, that she came to register as her true home.

In a world flourishing with magic, she and her siblings were amongst the impoverished, taken under the hospitable wing of a couple that longed for children. Lost families and homes prompted their gathering, and would soon act as the thread to bind them.

But such threads were of little consequence to adults— always exercising control of situations, even in ones they hardly factor in. So easily did the woman undo the knots they’d so confidently tied, sweeping her, and two others, into a carriage with a mere exchange of words, and some papers.

The mere mention brings tremors to her shoulders even today, but Eudora would hold on, fiercely, to the two that came with her, and pray for the survival of the others.

What acidic contempt her fumbling tongue held for the monster soon subsided come swaddled blankets and warm food… They were children, after all. Gullible little fools that only wished to survive. And the three fools reveled in the woman’s hospitality, who would soon introduce herself as the Chronicler. She would teach them to speak, to read, to love, to forget.

And Eudora, knowing no better, would love her more than she would ever know. Treasured memories of the year spent at the orphanage would be dwarfed by the wealth of knowledge presented by her new guardian, a woman who remained radiant in spite of her age, charm oozing from every word she spoke.

The Chronicler was, as her name suggested, a narrator— of epic tales that she whipped into existence with a wave of her finger. Indeed, she was a grand entertainer, and only riches would grant the world outside to catch a glimpse of her epics.What more… these tales, she whispered one evening, just before tucking the girl into bed, a grin curling across thin, painted lips— they each had a single showing. To recreate them… it would cheapen the experience, don’t you think?

Eudora was a favorite. That much was clear to her siblings, even in their youth. She was dazzling— she had this inexplicable draw that made her an obvious choice when it came down to passing the torch. So she learned all she could during the day under her mentor’s direction. And by night, it was candlelight that would lead her to success.The girl was convinced, the world needed stories like hers. And as the next generation of gifted storytellers, their path would be an arduous one, but worthwhile nonetheless.Tackling every day with a zeal one could only hope to match, fourteen blissful years would pass her by.

It was so, incredibly wonderful. Then came time for a new tale to begin.

The memory fizzles, here. What little she wishes to recall is riddled with the taste of fear, sweat, blood, and tears.

She recollects the shattering of a window, the crumbling of her home. She remembers the warmth of her brother’s hand, then the chilling absence. She recalls her fury, an overwhelming rage… and just when she was on the cusp of age seventeen.

It’s been six years, since then. No longer a child— how could she be— Eudora would scrape her life back together, build a name for herself, and start anew.

tl;dr mechanics-wise, she gives advantage (roll twice, take the higher number) to her peers. Currently she can only focus on a single target, and depending on how much she "loves" them, the recipient can add to their roll. In turn, she recieves a debuff and disadvantage.."

Those within eyesight may reap the benefits of Eudora's bleeding heart magic. True to its name, her heart bleeds with overwhelming love for her peers, regardless of their sentiments towards her. As the sole driving force behind her magic, her passion determines the strength of her spell— to alter one's fate.

Born with an excess of good luck, Eudora readily sacrifices that karma for the sake of others. Her blood serving as the ink unto which a new story to blossom in exchange for future misfortunes to befall her, she can coax the world into having some compassion for her friends...

So long as her requests are humble and within reason. So long as she suffers, in turn.