Daered Maccen (DARE-ed MAHK-ken)

A Resident

Daered Maccen (a.k.a. Mack)

Daered—whom most call Mack—has a knack for turning whatever’s at hand into something quietly exquisite. His tools are never far, tucked into rolls of softened hide or slung from his belt like familiar companions. Whether shaping bone into clasps or inlaying bits of mother-of-pearl into the base of a lamp, Mack never seems hurried. He moves like someone who’s always known that beauty begins in patience. His workshop is more of a gathering place than a workspace. Neighbors drift in to share tea, offer stories, or bring small scraps they believe “might be of use.” And somehow, Mack always finds a way to use them. He has a habit of humming when he works—nothing tuneful, just a gentle murmur, like the sound of wood settling into place. The air around him carries the scent of oil, smoke, and something subtly sweet, like sap warmed by sun. Mack never explains what he's making until it's done, and even then, his explanations are more gestures than words. He believes a good object should reveal itself slowly, the way dawn reveals the world—first in shape, then in shadow, then in color. And if one of his pieces happens to disappear into someone’s hands forever, he only smiles and says, “It wanted to be with you.”

Current Location

Caer Afallach

Species

Duine

Ethnicity

Celtic

Realm

Tír na nÓg

Professions

Ceardaíocht

Children

Sex

Male

Sexuality

Omnephilic

Other Affiliations

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.