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Cecilli was born in the late winter, a child born to commoners struggling to keep her warm-- of course, come spring, she had survived. Her upbringing was riddled with fables and tales common in the northern shamanistic tradition, all which left behind footprints in her mind. Not just lessons and wisdom, but laws and realities of her world, an assurance that the existence of the incorporeal was just beyond touch, but communicable to her through the signs inherent in the world around her. As she grew, she only became more sure of this. Her world was filled with the supernatural, and it called to her; it was perceptible, but only barely, requiring a trained eye and the favor of the spirits, a favor won by realizing the hardships of nature through a lifetime within it. She left behind her village when she came of age, travelling within the wilderness and beyond it with a long-time friend and protector, a knight from her homeland.

Cecilli is an average-heighted woman, her build is unassuming as her almost-limping gait, the most interesting part of her posture and bodily quirks may be her penchant to be looking to the skies, the bags under her tired eyes, and the slowness of her step. Her hands are often shakey when not held to an object, and she commonly holds her gaze at half-mast, eyelids nearly closed, almost as a squint or sign of fatigue. Her hair is unkempt, in a word. While not filthy, she doesn't seem the type to brush it every day.

Cecilli is an absent-minded individual, often lost in her own thoughts or in the imagery of nature around her. The way she speaks is often addled with allegories or metaphors that may be lost on many people, and it's often that she refuses to explain. She often leans on things, particularly her staff, in absence of seating, sits whenever possible, and lays if it doesn't get in the way.