Sláinte Maol-Kieran is a full-time Faerie and part-time servant of the Shadow. Actually an ungendered creature, their six wings and wispy limbs were created long ago in that shimmery curtain of mist between the worlds, near lovely Avalon. This artist's rendering of their countenance does little to show the silver-invisible alloy of the wings and body armor that allow Sláinte to be mostly unseen, and nothing to allow for real identification. They like it that way. While their weapon of choice is magic, their other powers include telekinesis and telepathy. (The only drawback of not having any hands, one supposes.) Since time before time, Sláinte has thought to adopt humanity as a cause, but their realization (after several centuries) is that they can't seem to do anything about it. They have since attempted to uncover the secrets of humans and what they are "really" like. Sláinte is willing to be called a "she," as people think their body shape means something female.

After spending much time in place called "New Jersey," and another known as "Ann Arbor," they have moved with the subject of study, who is proving to be rather a handful. As it turns out, the girl believes she might be a strange mixture of cat, dragon and wolf, along with the odd twinge of human. They haven't figured out how this works yet, but they're working on it. Currently, Sláinte's observations show that the girl's life is progressing in the seemingly inevitable direction of "real life." This is going to get rough, they think, as they move to the place where what is known as "graduate school" shall be attended and completed, with luck. After having spent time learning new-ish things in the town of her first university, and living with too many other people, she is now living alone with her cats in a small place in the state of "California."

Now, after a few months off, the swift silvery faerie resumes the study so carefully begun in the earlier days of her writing, while the girl's life meanders towards that daunting intersection with reality, something bound to create all sorts of difficulties. Their service to the shadow changes its form to earn the faerie a position whispering nonsense in the ears of some of the older professors, mainly emeriti, and some time dancing in the fault lines that trace through the areas where the girl is living. What could be better than the feeling of someone rocking you, gently, at intervals during the night?