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Malvici's sons and daughters are usually raised as warriors. Eirene is no different although she found a different path- Eirene was tutored in the usual martial arts and strategy as all her kin, younger sister to Adona and aunt to the current Duke. She found her passion for medicine at eleven years of age after a sparring partner broke his leg and the surgeons reset it. The sight of blood didn't repulse her and the fact he could walk again afterward impressed on her the usefulness of the skill. She began her studies then; medicine being less a science and more a skill. Clean wounds heal faster than bloody ones. Maggots will eat dead tissue. Leeches can help in -some- cases when blood pools in a bruise. Stitches can mean the difference between healing or losing a limb- and she wasn't afraid to take a leg if it was the best way to save the patient. Southport's medicinal gardens became a second home. And the war with the Fidantes was all the hands on training she would ever need. Eirene does not care for the politics her nephew the Duke has to muddle through. She's never been approached by the family to marry and by all accounts doesn't take lovers. Intimacy isn't something she can afford. Nor is her persona conductive to sweet courtship and romance; she's a jaded curmudgeon of a woman who will laugh at a funeral and roll her eyes at a wedding. She dislikes nobility who coast by on the deeds of dead ancestors and don't respect and care for the peasants and serfs under them. Eirene oversees the training of new field medics for Malvici's standing army and ensures each is as capable a soldier as they are a physician. After all- who is to say that field hospitals won't be attacked? And those who know how to heal often know how to do the most harm...

Time has finally caught up to this woman, the just reward for a long and full life. There's more salt than pepper to her dark hair now, with two signature white streaks framing her face. Age lines cluster around the corners of her full lips and wrinkles spider delicately outward to further accentuate her deep blue eyes, the aftereffects of decades spent smirking and narrow-gazing. Still, she's far from 'old,' and there's a visual refinement to her now that runs contrary to an otherwise oft-blunt demeanor. Her build is thin, softer than it is muscular. Her posture either slopes in lazy comfort or embodies a military-like stiffness - there's no in-between.

Bedside manner is for cushy quacks catering to nobles with a runny nose. Eirene is the kind of medic you want at your side when your wounds take you off the battlefield and into the triage tent; blunt, factual, and entirely dedicated to getting you back on your feet to kill the bastard who did this to you. She's become jaded and gruff over the years of seeing 'their little buggers' die but she genuinely cares. She just can't afford to care too much. She's a queen of gallows humor and can find anything funny if she wants to.