Freedom seems a heavy responsibility, one which must be accepted with thought and care.
Social Rank: 7
Concept: Between Worlds
Marital Status: married
Religion: Grace of the Thirteen
Height: average height
Hair Color: bistre
Eye Color: obsidian
Description: Two worlds met and Zyanya was born. She is diminutive, and would be easy to overlook elsewhere but here the details of her appearance are a beacon which declare her origins. Her hair is heavy and unerring as good intentions in its fall to the small of her back. The shade is that of spring loam, dark and dreaming, tempting the plunge of assessing fingers. Her eyes beneath feathery brows are darker still, darker than cliche: the limpid pools, the poet's ink, the starry night, bright against the gold of her skin. But here Arvum begins to intrude: in proud cheekbones, a high brow, the regal nose, and a mouth both wide and full. Her jaw is well-defined, her chin too strong for true delicacy. When she speaks Arvani, it is gently accented and carefully pronounced; her lack of thoughtless fluency is easily discerned.
Personality: She is a poet with a poet's vagaries. When piqued by interest and pricked by curiosity, she is the running brook carrying thoughts like sun-sparks on water. When not, Zyanya is the willow: soft with grace, deeply rooted, songs turned inward. There is patience here and a dignity born of decades of training.
Background: Zyanya is the happily ever after of her parents' love story, the proof of life continuing on when the last page of the tale is turned. The only daughter of Zixin Lir and Maren Thrax, she was raised on their fairy tale: the castaway princess deposited on distant foreign shores, the warrior-poet who fell in love with her, and the ten years of their courtship. Ten years in which Zixin spent oceans of ink on paper to woo Maren. Ten years of poetry and song, and a fervent but respectful distance. Ten years concluded with a marriage.
In Zyanya was the realization of her parents' ideals: a sword-like spirit and a harp-like soul, nurtured with love, with honour, and with duty. She took to poetry as Zixin did and song as her mother does, though for Zyanya her joy came in creating music, where in Maren it moved her to dance. Her studies encompassed these arts and more. She took to them gladly and strove to be an exemplary daughter in all things, through childhood into adulthood.
Her mother made certain that her daughter was also raised knowing of Arvum and of her family there. She was taught the language, the social forms (as they were in Maren's time). Several times a year on the birthdays of Maren's brothers, they released floating lanterns on the ocean to honor those distant relatives. Though she never lived there, Arvum, the Mourning Isles, and Arx all lived in Zyanya's imagination as they were described to her.
By adulthood she had established herself as a poet to match her father, an entertainer to match her mother. But here her peers settled easily into the predetermined channels of their lives, Zyanya found it difficult. Some claimed it was Mangata's tidal influence, a relic of her parents' love story. Others whispered it was the foreign influence of Maren herself. The result was a young poet who felt the need to move. She petitioned for and was granted a pass to travel through Weijin, composing and entertaining as she went. From Weijin, she traveled to the rest of the Undying Empire, her reputation growing as she went-- the novelty of her arrival and passage through each town, each city, was an efficient bait to audiences for whom life was certain and regular, day by day by day. And where novelty drew listeners, skill kept them enraptured. She had no end of admirers, patrons and lovers, the story of some being added to her growing library of poetry and songs.
But celebrity was not the purpose of Zyanya's wanderings. To her immense grief, the answer presented itself with her father's death. She was summoned back to Weijin by Maren to find the great and vital warrior turned teacher already passed. Arriving too late to say good-bye sent her into a dark spiral, an adult woman clinging to her mother as if a child again. When Maren spoke of her desire to return to her homeland, to see her family once more before she too returned to the Wheel, Zyanya knew that this was what she had sought all along-- not an answer, but a clarity of choice, to see the land of half of her heritage.
To decide whether Arvum was her true home.
|Anisha||Sometimes, you meet someone and find yourself so alike, it's like touching a long-lost sibling. Zyanya Lir is gracious, and kind. Compassionate and courteous. Thoughtful and artistic. She is all the things I value, the ideals and virtues I hold myself to, as seen through the lens of Jadairal culture. If there were Whispers in the Undying Empire, surely she would be Radiant among them.|
|Apollo||People tell me what's need is balance. They very rarely look balance in the eye, and see how terrifying it is. But she knows.|
|Deoiridh||As much of a stranger as I am in the southern reaches of the waking world, yet she is one in her own, vastly differing way. Gazing upon her is almost like looking upon myself, yet... not. If there ever was a time to perceive The Thirteenth's duality in aught, it is in her and I - for better or worse.|
|Domonico||Of all the many things to be fascinated by with this woman I am most curious as to her relationship with Mangata. I must be sure to discuss this further with her.|
|Evander||She gave a unique, intriguing performance and introduced me to a topic I know very little of. I hope to have the opportunity to meet her again and discuss her homeland.|
|Evaristo||Something about her is captivating - mysterious and intriguing. Not just the fact she comes from a foreign place to us, but something in her bearing and how she talks. I hope to meet her again.|
|Evelynn||I'm not surprised by her fondness for her ruler. But I will never understand it.|
|Gael||A woman in fabrics I've never seen, claiming communion with some higher wisdom — madness. Unmoored, perhaps, from sound judgement. Still- in a world where insight and perpicience are so casually disregarded, she's not so bad. She's nice, in fact.|
|Harlex||It was told to me once by another soldier that those who come out of the storm won’t be the same person who walked in. I never quite knew what he meant until I saw her on the wind-crying shore, hair all about her face, dark eyes fixed on me. Damn.|
|Ian||Donrai Thrax's niece. What the fuck.|
|Ilira||Dark eyes are the brightest mirrors. She is as Lexir spoke, a stranger in perhaps the strangest land. Amongst the rest, I expect we might find congeniality in this.|
|Lianne||A study in deliberateness and grace. Gentle, but not for lack of spine or identity. A poet whose song I understand.|
|Mabelle||She seems to live in the shadow of her mother. Fragile almost, but endlessly compassionate. I'm sure she will find a chance to bloom into her own in the city.|
|Maren||My beloved little dumpling, the path of a stranger in a foreign land is one fraught with both beauty and sorrow. With your father's inner strength, and the words I have whispered to you even in your cradle, I hope that perhaps on this path here you will find what you could not in the lands of your birth. You have been and always will be our greatest treasure.|
|Niklas||She seems like a sweet individual. Of course, the sweetest poisons are often the deadliest.|
|Orick||A whirl of wind from the west laden with new ideas that seem to sound so familiar... fascinating. I will greatly enjoy working on a scent inspired by her homeland, rarely do I happen upon commissions as captivating as the gardens of Jadairal."|
|Pasquale||I had heard much about her talent from her mother before I ever met her. Its genuine, which was good to discover, but different. Weijin must be a rather fascinating place even if they do have a dubious idea of what makes good tea.|
|Piccola||A self-professed artist from Weijin and Jadairal whose perspective is but one of many from outsiders who haven't fought for what they take for granted.|
|Porter||A stranger in a strange land! I'm sorry that we don't have colorful fire, I imagine that's terrible disappointing. I'd be disappointed if I thought fun fire was coming but there was just a bunch of people walking around eating sandwiches. Still, she's a very gracious woman who is /definitely/ sending me sketches. I think.|
|Ripley||Some people just can't appreciate the new. And that's a shame. I hope she never goes home, as terrible as that thought is.|
|Rowynna||An utterly mesmerizing woman from the Province of Weijin who returns now to her mother's homeland. She has a poetic way of speaking, despite the barrier of our language.|
|Samira||I do not envy her the task of adjusting to an entirely new land: new language, new culture, new people. And yet, she carries herself with such grace and poise, embracing questions and offering what knowledge she has to share. I hope that this city will show her more of its goodness than its ugliness.|
|Sirius||A newcomer from lands distant whom I've treated poorly. She is of gentle roots and with a delicate approach to life, one altogether undeserving of my irreverent attempts at wit and crudeness. I will avoid digging this hole any deeper.|
|Sorrel||I do not envy her the world of culture shock she is suffering now, though I hope that I can learn from her a different perspective.|
|Valdemar||Very polite, with a good sense of humor and a poetic manner of speaking. It also seems we have some tastes in common.|
|Vitalis||I can't recommend going around professing the Emperor's infinite wisdom. It's not a popular sentiment on these shores.|
|Vittorio||A poet sharing her heart despite not fully being familiar with the language. That is brave.|
|Zoey||Humble and a great admirer of her mother's skill, though I have no doubt she is a talented artist in her own right.|