Grimm

Grimm often speaks in fables, parables, and myths. Many of these are well-known folk tales of the wild places and remote clans; many small hatchlings could probably recognize most from their bedtime stories. There are differences, however. Grimm's versions are darker. They don't always have a happy ending -- at least, not without a price.

Grimm has, on occasion, bowed to pressure to say something new, to tell a story that hasn't been heard. Often in trade for safe passage for herself and Aesop, her companion, the old tales won't do.

Asker beware; the tales she tells are theirs. Their pasts lay open to her narratives. Recognizable enough for most listeners to feel uneasy in the pits of their stomachs, to feed the heart beating faster. Grimm knows things. Things she shouldn't know.

The Teller keeps moving, Aesop at her side, from haven to haven. They keep to themselves. Aesop is the friendly, whistling, approachable one while Grimm does her best to translate for him in the half sign language, quasi-lingual way that they do. She knows that her stories sometimes frighten those who hear them, and so she tries to help Aesop tell his, instead.