So...I am once again looking for help deciding on one of several character concepts. The ST in question is running a Changeling: the Lost game and says she wants to explore the things that separate the Lost from the humans they protect. I was aiming to focus on the madness and compulsions so exemplary of fae of all varieties, and had several ideas:

Silent Sally spent sixty years guarding the library of a rakshasa-like Keeper that she knew only as The Tiger, fed only on the scraps of life and living that she could steal from intruders. She remembers decades that stretched through the endless, dusty silence until that silence became a part of her, though she still doesn't know how it is that she emerged from those years of neglect and death younger than when she left. She still hungers for shards of life; when she hasn't fed, her lithe frame is pale and her hair and eyes are dark, but when she's full up on stolen life she becomes tanned, vibrant, and alive. Addiction beckons.

The Corpsegrinder known as Marcus Vain doesn't think there's anything wrong with him. Okay, so he has more than one escape tunnel out of his basement apartment. And alright, one of those tunnels (more than one, actually, if you can puzzle out the maze of digging and traps and dead-ends) ends in the local graveyard and he keeps a hatchet around so he can get some Original Recipe whenever he wants it, but he's an okay guy. It's not like he's some Gristlegrinder, right? The only thing he can't figure out is why it is that he keeps waking up in lonely places with a mouth full of ash, covered in blood - or who these pale-faced bastards are that keep following him at night.

Amelia Express doesn't know what she is. No, really - she has no idea. Her memories of Arcadia aren't fragments, they're a gigantic blank spot (except, of course, when she dreams - dreams she cannot remember but dreads with soul-shredding terror). She appears as a woman made all of dots, like some pointillist painting - except when she's line art, or a mass of text, or watercolor, or any of a dozen other printed or painted or drawn forms. Sometimes she thinks she's Fairest - and there's no arguing that she is pretty as a picture, poetic as a song, as enrapturing as a maestro performance when she wants to be - but sometimes she thinks she's an Elemental, or a Wizened. She spends her time literally talking to books (no one, even Amelia, is sure how she learned that Communion contract) and trying to piece together the muddled-up shards of a life she isn't entirely certain is her own. Not all of her memories match, you see.