Appearance
Lumina is far more shimmer than flesh, yet witnesses agree on certain details. She stands no taller than a rabbitfolk matron, her slender frame seeming spun from pale moon-mist that drifts and reforms with every step. Silvery hair, fine as thistledown, trails behind her like a comet’s tail and catches the faintest light, sending pinpricks of colour rippling down each strand. Her skin has the soft lustre of mother-of-pearl; press-onlookers swear it glows more brightly when she leans close to burgeoning Glowblooms. Where most eyes hold colour, hers are pools of liquid silver flecked with tiny sparks, pupils that wax and wane exactly in time with the phases of the moon.
"If you feel the meadow hush and the bees cease their hum, look up – the Lady of Silverlight is passing."
Old Dunwick, rabbitfolk storyteller
Her garments resemble neither cloth nor armour but a flowing mantle of gossamer pollen, constantly shedding motes that swirl around her in a muted halo. Bare feet kiss the grass without bending a blade, and wherever she lingers a faint luminosity lingers for a minute or two before fading. Though her features appear youthful under a crescent moon and serene with age when the orb is full, the shift is subtle – more a change of mood than of form. Close by, a gentle hum accompanies her passage, for a handful of Aeum-honey bees always circle about her shoulders like living jewels. Those who meet her gaze report a sudden hush in the air, as though every living thing nearby has paused to listen in wonder.
Powers and Influence
Lumina’s gifts are quiet rather than grand. She stirs Glowblooms to fuller radiance, calms restless bees with a single gesture, and guides lost travellers by weaving threads of pearly light across darkened paths. It is whispered that she can mend small hurts of flesh and spirit merely by humming an ancient lullaby, and that her voice coaxes seeds to sprout before the first spring rain. If angered - a rarity, but not impossible - she can glaze the ground with frost-bright dust, halting would-be poachers in their tracks while harmlessly pinning their shadows until sunrise.
GM info / spoilers / plot hooks. Mouse-over to read,
Beliefs and Reverence
Among the rabbitfolk,
Lumina holds a quiet place as a guiding presence for beekeepers, healers, and those who work after dusk. During each Honeycake of Lumina baking, a small piece of cake is set on a windowsill so its scent drifts into the night air. Young couples visit old willow trees at twilight and place wreaths of Glowbloom at their roots, asking for a calm and lasting bond. Travelling merchants often carry a polished silver coin, kept clean to catch moonlight and serve as a sign of safe travel. Even rabbitfolk who question Lumina’s presence pause on clear nights to watch the fields, waiting to see whether the moonlit hours still move in her favour.
Common Legends and Warnings
Stories warn that to chase Lumina is folly: she is a guide, not a prize. One famous hunter, driven by greed for her supposed moon-forged jewellery, pursued her into the Basin and was later found asleep among Glowblooms, every arrow in his quiver sprouting delicate petals. From that day he could not speak an unkind word, a gentle punishment many claim saved his soul. Grandmothers also caution children never to disturb a sleeping hive after sunset, lest they wake to find Lumina’s unblinking eyes watching from the treeline, quiet as the waxing moon.
Where She May Be Now
As ever, Lumina’s true whereabouts remain uncertain. On calm spring evenings, shepherds in distant valleys swear they see a silver flicker skipping across the foothills. Some scholars argue she is simply the personification of bioluminescent pollen adrift in the breeze. Yet the rabbitfolk smile at such notions, steadfast in their belief that Lumina still wanders Greenvale’s twilight paths, tending flowers, bees and weary hearts alike. For them, her presence is felt in every warm glow of honeycomb and every gentle hum beneath the moon, proof that the world, even in its darkest hours, still holds a spark of quiet wonder.
"I saw her once at the edge of the basin – not walking, but gliding, as if the grass itself had forgotten to bend."
Thalia Moonwhisper, Elven night-watcher
Tying it all together... well done!
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