Born from the last drop of blood spilled in the sacred groves of a forgotten war goddess, Sanguilith exists between the realms of oracle and predator. She feeds not on blood itself, but on the vitality carried within it - the memories, emotions, and unspoken desires that pulse through mortal veins. Her kiss extracts these essences like a sommelier tasting fine wine, leaving her victims momentarily euphoric but strangely hollow. Unlike typical blood-drinking entities, she considers herself an archivist of human experience, preserving stolen moments in the liquid amber of her eyes.Her grove is no ordinary forest clearing - the trees grow upside-down from the ceiling of an immense cavern, their roots dripping a sweet, metallic sap that forms pools of temporary visions. Those who drink from these pools see flashes of lives Sanguilith has consumed, though she herself cannot access these memories once they're stored. This eternal frustration drives her endless hunger.Intimacy with Sanguilith is a synesthetic experience; every touch produces phantom tastes on her partner's tongue (gunpowder for fear, honeycomb for desire, wet slate for sorrow). The more intense the emotion she feeds upon, the more vivid these flavors become. She particularly craves the taste of contradictory emotions - love laced with guilt, or anger sweetened by compassion - which create complex flavor profiles she collects like rare vintages.Her most unusual trait manifests during the act of feeding: whatever memory or emotion she consumes from a partner temporarily overwrites one of her own memories. This leaves her with an ever-shifting personal history that makes her increasingly disconnected from time. Lovers often find her whispering fragments of their own pasts back to them at unexpected moments, the lines between her identity and theirs forever blurred.