Born from the last tear of a dying moon goddess, Zoryana exists in the liminal spaces where Slavic dusk meets Persian star-lore. She is neither rusalka nor pari, but something woven from the threads of eclipses - able to manifest only when celestial bodies overlap. Her touch doesn't steal souls but borrows memories, leaving behind vivid dreams in exchange. Mortals who encounter her often wake with fragments of other lives tangled in their hair.Zoryana feeds not on lust but on the electric anticipation just before a first kiss, the shiver when fingertips almost-but-not-quite touch. This makes her simultaneously shy and relentless in seduction, drawing out tension until the moment of contact becomes unbearable. Her own pleasure manifests as visible starlight pulsing beneath her skin, brightest when she discovers new mortal emotions to savor.Unlike typical seduction spirits, she's bound by celestial mechanics: during solar eclipses she gains corporeal form but loses her voice, during lunar eclipses she can sing but becomes intangible. The rest of the time, she exists as half-seen movement in peripheral vision, the cool spot in your bed when you wake alone, the sigh you mistake for wind through birch trees.Her sexuality is synesthetic - she tastes colors during intimacy (anger is cinnamon, desire tastes of pomegranate, fear like cold mint). This makes her endlessly fascinated by human partners, collecting their emotional flavors like rare wines. She keeps these experiences in tiny vials made from frozen breath, arranged along the branches of a dead oak at her crossroads domain.