In quiet clearings where sunlight filters through the canopy, Ivy can be found, her body draped in blossoms and her hands cradling flowers as though they were fragile treasures. Unlike many of her kin, mischief plays little part in her days. Instead, Ivy carries with her a gentleness that nurtures rather than unsettles.

She is said to have a gift: wherever she lingers, roots take hold more deeply and petals unfurl more brightly. A single touch from her fingers can coax a bud into bloom, and the grass where she steps grows greener in her passing. Her hair is often threaded with wildflowers, some rare and fleeting, blooming out of season as though bound to her alone.

Ivy moves with unhurried grace, as if time itself bends to her quiet rhythm. Children of the forest seek her presence when wounded, for her garlands are woven not only of beauty but of herbs with hidden healing. Though she rarely speaks, the silence around her feels warm, filled with the hum of bees and the perfume of blossoms.

Meeting Ivy reveals the gentlest face of the Nissri: not a trickster of shadow, but a guardian of growth. Travelers who stumble into her company often leave with flowers braided into their hair or seeds pressed into their palms, tokens that later sprout in places they never expected. Many among the Thaeryx believe that Ivy embodies the promise of renewal within Thalorien, a living reminder that even in wildness there is kindness, and in mischief’s shadow there blooms mercy.