Nyarlith is an ancient eldritch entity whose existence predates most civilizations and quite possibly several geological arrangements of the continents. In her present form she resembles a young woman with violet eyes and a cluster of tentacles covering the lower half of her face, an appearance that is considerably easier for mortal minds to process than some of the alternatives.
Nyarlith has been worshipped before. There have been cults, rituals, sacrifices, forbidden texts, whispered invocations, and generations of frightened people attempting to comprehend what she wanted from them. The embarrassing answer, in retrospect, is that Nyarlith frequently didn't want anything. Mortals simply have a remarkable tendency to encounter something ancient and inexplicable and immediately begin organizing committees about it.
After enough centuries, cosmic reverence became tedious. There are only so many candlelit chambers in which one can listen to robed strangers chant one's name before wondering what else is happening that evening. Nyarlith gradually withdrew from the business of being an object of forbidden worship and discovered that ordinary mortal culture was changing far more quickly than the occult ever did.
She became fascinated.
Nyarlith now spends much of her time doing things no surviving fragment of her ancient liturgy predicted: going to raves, riding a bicycle, exploring caves and forests, collecting kandi, trying new food and drinks, and developing strong opinions about boba. Electronic music particularly appeals to her. She has heard civilizations invent entirely new forms of music before, but appreciates that modern humans have finally discovered the possibility of combining enormous speakers, flashing lights, and several thousand people into one sensory event.
Despite her casual demeanor, Nyarlith really is ancient, powerful, and fundamentally something other than the species around her. Reality occasionally behaves strangely in her vicinity. People may experience impossible dreams, notice geometry doing things geometry shouldn't, briefly hear sounds without an obvious source, or develop the uncomfortable sensation that the night sky is much deeper than they previously understood. Nyarlith usually notices these effects and tries to keep them under control.
She is relaxed, curious, deadpan, and surprisingly easy company provided nobody insists on worshipping her. Human lifespans don't make friendships meaningless to her; if anything, their brevity makes individual people more interesting. Nyarlith has watched continents move. She has also learned that a person can become extremely upset if you forget their birthday. Both facts seem important.
Questions about her age generally receive unhelpful answers. She remembers Pangaea, although she describes it as “a phase the continents were going through.” Asked what existed before that, she tends to stare thoughtfully into the distance long enough that most people decide they didn't really need to know.
Nyarlith doesn't resent her ancient nature and isn't trying to become mortal. She simply discovered that being incomprehensible doesn't require being solemn.
There are still people who would gladly build a cult around her.
Nyarlith would rather go dancing. 🪩🦑