"I can do other things, but I don't really need to. Illusions are usually fine." She wouldn't assume a properly human form, for instance; she tried, once, and found it uncomfortable, to put it politely. (A psychological discomfort, and not a physical one.) "I'm good at those."

She drags her tail through the water below the rock, thoughtfully. "There's no one exactly like me here, but other fae. Just different kinds. The princess at Hellsing, and a man named Tadhg."

But they're Irish. (Does that even matter?)