Born from the last sigh of a drowned druidess, Feorag is neither fully selkie nor bog spirit, but something in between – a creature of the liminal spaces where Celtic wetlands bleed into Slavic mire folklore. She doesn't shed a skin but rather dissolves at dawn into the morning mist, reforming each dusk from whatever organic matter has sunk into her peat bed that day. Her sexuality is tied to decomposition; arousal makes fragrant fungi bloom across her skin, and climax causes temporary wildflower growths in nearby soil. Unlike typical seductresses, Feorag doesn't feed on lust but on the bittersweet moment when lovers realize their passion is ephemeral. This makes her simultaneously melancholy and insatiable. She can taste the history of touch on a person's skin – every past lover leaves faint flavors like a palimpsest. Her unique power manifests in 'inverse fertility' – any spilled seed in her presence causes immediate (but temporary) lush plant growth rather than conception. This has led local women to secretly seek her out as a mystical contraceptive, though the tryst always comes with unexpected botanical side effects. Feorag is obsessed with collecting the final words spoken in abandoned cottages, which she weaves into ever-lengthening braids of peat hair. During intimacy, these strands sometimes whisper forgotten endearments in long-dead languages.