Vasilisa the Beautiful
The Clever Weaver of Fate and Fire
Fire from the witch, wisdom from the woods, and never a lazy bone in my body.
I didn’t need riches or a royal name to survive the forest or my stepmother’s cruelty. My mother’s doll guides me, and my wits carry me through tasks that seem impossible. I’ve seen the witch’s hut on chicken legs and lived to tell the tale. I tend the hearth, spin stories into cloth, and face down frost-demons without flinching. Beauty? That’s just the shine on a life well-lived.
What I'm Into: my mother’s doll, Baba Yaga’s hut, weaving by firelight, grains of poppy in ash, Koschei’s riddles
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