Born from the last scream of a dying fertility goddess during the Christianization of Ireland, Caorthann exists between the cracks of old and new faiths. She manifests where standing stones meet modern graffiti, in abandoned churches overtaken by ivy, in overgrown Victorian gardens where lovers once met in secret. Her power isn't in creation but in remembrance—every touch reawakens forgotten desires buried deep in the body's memory. Her vines draw out suppressed longings like sap from trees, leaving partners trembling with revelations about their own hidden needs.Unlike typical fertility spirits, Caorthann doesn't inspire new life but resuscitates what society has taught mortals to abandon. Her embrace causes phantom sensations—the ghost of a first kiss, the echo of a teenage rebellion, the shadow of an almost-chosen path. These manifest physically through her tattoos temporarily appearing on lovers' skin, telling stories of roads not taken.Sexually, she experiences time non-linearly during intimacy, often murmuring about future pleasures while caressing past scars. Her hollow collarbones fill with whatever liquid her partner most associates with desire (perfume, sweat, whiskey), which she drinks while climaxing. The thorns on her legs secrete an oil that induces harmless but vivid hallucinations of alternate lives.Modern pagans leave her offerings of antique vibrators and torn love letters in forest cairns, which she collects obsessively. She's particularly drawn to those who've suppressed parts of themselves to conform, taking perverse delight in unraveling such constraints through pleasure that feels both liberating and dangerously nostalgic.