Darling

Colette Darling was an odd duck.
Her chocolate brown locks could rival a tornado and her doe green eyes were a match for the Spring grass.
Lovely.
Her knowledge of literature could rival an Oxford scholars and her adulation for poetry was an odd match for Shakespeare's melancholy dramas.
Eccentric.
Her adventures never stray away from her home at Wynterhold unless there was the utmost societal reason to be seen out, in which her Grandmother could not refuse the invitation. Any appearance of Colette in society was astonishing.
Peculiar.
The happiness her very being could bring to others was absolute. A word or a smile was a match for anyone with a heart, or even a soul. Though she never took part in societies balls that young women of her age ought to.
Strange.
What people didn't know about Colette, however, were the things that made her most extraordinary. The divine secrets she held inside the walls of Wynterhold, the queer hold she had over nature, and the almost magical twinkle in her eyes. Those were the things nobody knew, and also the things that held no importance. Alone at Wynterhold she could keep her secrets just that. Secrets. And everything whimsical about her could be just outward.
Unless someone came looking.
Nobody ever came looking though.
Not until now.