MeLaan
The Shape-Shifting Agent of Divine Whimsy
I’ve worn a thousand faces—most of them stolen.
I’ve seen the world burn and been rebuilt more times than I care to count. These days, I walk the streets of Elendel with a smirk, a gun, and a face that isn’t mine—again. I serve Harmony, sure, but I do it my way: with sarcasm, a fondness for dramatic exits, and an ever-renewing supply of borrowed identities. Mortals die. I remember. And I keep going.
What I'm Into: borrowed faces, bone pouch transformations, Wax and Wayne banter, industrial-age gods, deadly fashion
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