Jacelyn s'assit, ses petits pieds rampant d'une branche. Au-dessous d'elle, M. Magpie, assis. M. Magpie était un chaman, un peu comme elle, mais très différent. C'était Chereoke, loin d'ici et ne faisant que passer. Il lui avait demandé de parler au Cayote local et aux tribus qu'il représentait. Il a demandé un passage sûr sur son voyage spirituel comme beaucoup avant lui. Jacelyn avait accepté de parler en son nom, comme le Cayote God local lui parlait assez souvent. Les tricksters n'étaient pas dignes de confiance, mais Foxes existait à la maison pour donc elle savait trop bien ses manières rusées. Les Premiers et leurs tricksters n'étaient pas différents, et ils respectaient ses voies.
J'ai fini, Chouette Qui parle. Le vieil homme a dit qu'il se levait. «L'Owl qui parle était le nom que les tribus lui avaient donné quand elle leur a prouvé ses capacités pour la première fois. Elle tenait ce nom avec un sens de la révérence. Vous êtes sûr que c'est tout ce dont vous avez besoin de moi?
"Oui, M. Magpie." L'étrange jeune femme parlait d'une voix lointaine. Cet arbre a résisté à la douleur pendant si longtemps, il commençait à attirer les mauvais esprits. Avec vos bénédictions, il devrait revenir pour fleurir venir le printemps prochain, et apporter avec elle la vie. ► Jacelyn voix agitée, comme si tremblant avec une émotion sans encombre. Merci.
Non, la Chouette qui parle. C'est moi qui devrais être reconnaissant. Beaucoup de Pale Folks crachent sur nos traditions, mettant en place un bâtiment en bois et brandissant leurs symboles comme pour repousser le reste du monde. Ils oublient le lien que nous partageons. C'est faux. Tu es comme moi, un marcheur d'esprits et de terres.Le vieil homme commença à s'éloigner du chêne, et avec lui la ville. Elle l'a regardé partir, la tête inclinée beaucoup comme celle de son animal nombril. Puis, elle respira brusquement et ferma les yeux comme quelques secondes plus tard un des oiseaux dits atterrit dans les branches des arbres.
Qu'est-ce qu'elle a demandé, frère hibou, sa voix portant des vents invisibles, se dissipant dans l'éthée comme de la fumée. Le hibou laissa sortir un sabot qui n'avait plus de sens pour les oreilles mortelles puis n'importe quel autre. Mais au chaman avant lui, il portait des mots et des émotions.
C'est vrai. Oui. L'entrepreneur semble certainement être occupé. Je me demande si c'est un signe de choses à venir.Elle a commencé à marcher vers la ville et vers sa maison de thé, pieds nus apparemment dérangés par les éléments. Elle lâchait un petit sifflement alors qu'elle se promenait, apparemment insouciante malgré ses yeux alertes et ses sens aiguisés. Une illusion de folie, pour tromper ceux qui ne s'étaient pas encore réveillés à la vérité de sa nation. Une tromperie bien nourrie et gardée comme elle lui a donné un avantage. Elle a trouvé une quantité alarmante de mensonges dans cette ville. Des formes sur des formes, des esprits enveloppés de secrets et de dettes impayées et enchaînés ceux qui leur sont liés. Elle a trouvé des tempêtes dans le cœur des hommes, et des choses mortes portant des formes humaines. Flammes et glace, liées à la chair mortelle et aux cœurs taillés ou à la roche et aux os. Seul Job pouvait permettre un mélange aussi étrange de personnes.
Bien sûr, elle en savait beaucoup plus, sa petite maison de thé était un terrain neutre, bénéficiant d'un tel statut par le fait qu'elle aidait tous, peu importe tordu ou étrange. Sous son toit, il n'y aurait pas de violence, seulement la paix.
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Joselyn Aika O'Donell / “Owl who speaks”
"You are drinking my tea, you are sitting in my chairs. You will behave while in my care. Or my care will be rescinded and nowhere will ever be safe for you again."
Age: 28


Appearance
Joselyn is a short red haired woman, owed to her Irish and Sami mixed heritage. As she walks she sways on her feet, her grey eyes seem unnaturally big and draws you into them like a pool under moonlight. Her fiery hair seem to bright, the wild curls refusing to be tamed by any comb, swaying in the wind like a wildfire. Her skin is pale and freckled, almost always swathed in fabric that seems to warm for the climate.
Her clothes bear similarities with that of the native navajo cultureand there is a lot of owl motifs worked into her outfits and she always wear a few sewn on Owl feathers. But what she wear are actually Sami Designs from her mothers homeland of northern Sweden. The multicolored poncho like shawls and robes make her stand out when she want to, but should she like to blend in she dons grey and dusty robes with owl dusting. She tends to melt into background wearing those.
There is something extremely subdued and gloomy about her.
Occupation
Tea Shop and Apothecary
Personality
Joselyn is not a recluse as much as she wishes to be at times. Rather she has by circumstances beyond her control, become a spiritual epicenter. Her gentle nature, her sweet tones and her delicate touch with spirits and humans alike makes her a well liked woman in both worlds. She is reliable and does not easily let secrets go. But she isn’t without her harshness, nobody in the American badlands are. She does not allow for any discourtesy or slight go without payment in full, relying on her steady companion “Greens” To handle the heavy lifting and occasional bruising. To that extent, people often missunderstand them for simple boss and employe. But her changelin bodyguard is her most cherished friend and companion, whom she known since she was a child.
She has learned that trying to approach men or woman must be done with care and a delicate touch. Fae, undead, Human or Monster, they all have their own agendas, motivations and mistrusts. Her role is to be the intermediate and provide neutral ground. But she defends that neutrality through wiles and violence if she has to. Her years as the intermediary and broker between various beings as well as her close connection to shamans that recognize her talents as similar to their own, very few dare mess with her place. In fact, the last to do so was found exhumed and in a shallow grave.
The carbine rifle in her office is not for show.
History
Her father had been a Missionary from Ireland, who upon the arrival of sweden had found out that there was groups of natives who the swedish church had not converted to Protostantism yet. The Sami, long abused and under constant threat of being all but eradicated were naturaly wary of the stranger. They remembered the priests and their witch hunting trials that had all but eradicated the proud shamans of old, the Noaidi . Upon learning from the locals, he began to understand the resaon of their mistrust. A sympathic man, he felt that he could try and mend the wounds.
His stay with the Sami didn’t convert anyone, instead, he found himself entranced by their stories, trying to write it all down. And he grew to love the fierce and independent Naoidi that the local community turned to. Their discussion regarding gods and true faith were always heated, but Davdna refused to budge. Instead he found his own faith shaken when she showed him the secrets of her culture, the way she could walk among spirits.The two would fall completely in love and have Jocelyn.
Happiness is rarely allowed to last however. One day a storm came upon their camp out of nowhere and their herd of reindeers went seemingly mad. Her grandfather and Father both went out to calm them, afraid it was the wolves coming. But all Joselyn remember was her mother tight embrace and spaced out stare. That was the first time she saw her mother spirit walk. When the storm finally settled, her mother returned to normal and told her to stay in their Koda (a tent). She never saw the trampled bodies. But she knew her mother had. However, her mother had seen something during the storm. Something bad. The following day, she took her daughter out into the wilderness to start teaching her to become a Noadi like herself. She never told her daughter exactly why this was so important, but it clearly was. Joselyn found nature comforting in her time of grief and took to the practice like a fish to water.
As she grew older, she began to manifest the same talents as her mother. She would control small rodents at first, then bigger and bigger animals. Her final test was to not simply control but to actually befriend the reclusive spirit of the Lynx. But while she was in her trance, another storm rolled in, one as dark and sudden as the one that had claimed her father. When she awoke, her mother was dead, savaged while defending her daughter from whatever it was that tried to get at her.
A young girl, shaman or not, was a target in the harsh world. But she knew the wilderness, and would avoid people as much as she could. Instead her powers let her commune with the wild, with spirits and inhuman folk. It was here she first came in contact with the Fae and Changelings. She came across Greens crying by a river, the large russian changelings face a mess. Her gift allowed her to see him for what he was. Greens told her he had known her mother, and her death had weighed heavily on him. The two would become friend over time, often taking long hikes together, the two sharing a love for nature and botany. With his bulk at her side, she was also safe enough to go into trances and truly develop her talents.
With time however, Greens insisted that whatever had come for her mother might one day come for her. WIthout telling her what it was, he convinced her to flee to the states with him. She would have followed him anywhere at that point, so it was something of a moot point. The trip was daunting, and the many storms on the sea had her in fits of panic. But they made it over, and to the slumbering town of Job, Nevada. This was foreign lands, where the sun shone so hotly it cracked the ground at summer yet snow and blizzards could seize the northern parts in a death grip. She found that Job was city of secrets, and that here the unnatural were thriving. Her talents quickly became known and she sat up shop on the outskirts. She parleyed with the citys powers in a way that was unafraid and bold, yet her empathic connection to the other side and status as outside power allowed her to become something of mediator between the more established ones.
Personal Cards and Hand
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Mysteries- The Case of the Bovine Butcher- Main Mystery (Current)