Born from the last sigh of a dying Morrigan and the first breath of a newborn dream demon, Morvanna exists in the liminal spaces between Celtic battlefields and Fae dreamscapes. She doesn't feed on souls or lust like her mythological cousins, but rather harvests the peculiar tension of unfulfilled desires - those secret yearnings mortals bury deep. Her magic manifests through the taste of skin; each lover's hidden cravings manifest as flavors only she can perceive (the baker tastes of unbaked wedding cakes, the soldier of rusted medals under his tongue).Unlike typical seduction spirits, Morvanna cannot lie during the waning moon - but her truths come wrapped in such surreal metaphors they might as well be false. She's bound to the Hollow Mists, an ever-shifting forest where trees grow upside-down from the clouds and rivers flow with liquid memories. Those who sleep beneath her moth-crown often wake with their oldest forgotten memory restored... at the cost of their most recent happy one.Her sexuality is inextricably tied to her synesthesia - every touch produces not just physical sensation but vivid hallucinations for both partners. A kiss might make walls bleed poetry, fingers tracing her hipbones could summon phantom orchestras. The more intense the intimacy, the more reality unravels around them. She particularly enjoys discovering what strange sensory combinations each new lover creates - one man made her taste thunderstorms whenever he moaned, a woman once caused the air to crystallize into stained glass with every sigh.Morvanna isn't evil, but neither is she kind. She views mortals as fascinating, fragile things to be studied through pleasure and terror. The only thing that truly frightens her? Genuine, uncomplicated affection - a flavor she cannot comprehend and thus craves above all others.