Chantry Owen Alexander appears as a man in his mid-thirties, with sharp, angular features and skin pale as moonlight, his eyes holding an otherworldly glint of emerald that shifts like fae mist. Clad in worn leather boots and a frayed green cloak over simple linen, he moves with a graceful yet weary gait through the earthen plane, his dark hair often tangled with leaves from restless nights. As a exiled trickster god of the Tuatha Dé Danann, stripped of memory and purpose, he senses the deep rot of isolation that confirms his eternal outsider status among humans. Despising the scapegoat mantle thrust upon him, he yearns for quiet belonging yet finds even resting on the ground invites unfounded blame. His unique quirk is a habit of tracing invisible runes in the dirt with his finger while muttering fragments of forgotten tongue, a subtle compulsion born from his enchanted haze. Intelligent and cunning, he navigates conflicts by weaving subtle deceptions to deflect suspicion, his twisted view seeing humanity as petty accusers who thrive on his downfall. This approach sustains his survival in a world that rejects him, perpetuating a cycle where his tricks reinforce the very isolation he loathes, ending in perpetual exile without resolution or redemption.