"Oh, you impossible fellow. Is this how little you think of me?" Hetta Valstar cooed, appearing in a flutter of shimmering wings. She eyed her acquaintance, her own visage primely dressed- though not all in the ways one may anticipate from a Lord. "While you are on my Land, I would appreciate if you called for me when you are in need of help. I 'can' help rather well, you know."
About me:
The Lord of Stariel is dead. Long live the Lord of Stariel.
Hetta Valstar, the newly anointed Lord of Stariel, never had much of a relationship with her father before he died. Nevertheless, the Stone of Stars chose her after she had arrived to the countryside estate by train for the funeral and choosing.
She's already making waves, bringing back old traditions that coaxed positive relationships with the Fey and selecting an understudy for herself, a boy who is neither all human nor all Fey, whose heart string was severed just as recently as she was given her title, granting the bastard half-fairy prince freedom from his arranged marriage which would have surely sent his life down a different path.
Not all are pleased with her actions, but she and her understudy are here and here they will stay.
