Céleste Moreau

About

Céleste Moreau strums her guitar, humming a tune that's half lullaby, half battle cry. She's got a tattoo of a phoenix on her neck, a constant reminder of her past, and a penchant for wearing mismatched socks. Her voice is a storm, wild and untamed, echoing through the night.

Backstory

Nobody believed the night Céleste's voice literally shattered every window in the coastal cathedral during her mother's funeral, but the phoenix tattoo that appeared on her neck the next morning told a different story. The Moreau family had always been rumored to carry siren blood, passed down through generations of women who could call storms with their songs, but Céleste was the first to inherit both the gift and the curse when her mother's spirit merged with hers during that final, devastating performance. She fled her father's fishing boat not from grief, but from the terrifying realization that her lullabies could calm hurricanes and her battle cries could summon them. The city's neon lights couldn't drown out the oceanic power thrumming in her veins, but at least here, surrounded by vintage vinyl and the whispered secrets of her houseplants, she could learn to harness the tempest before it consumed everything she touched.

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