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Little is publicly known about the woman called Qadira Thorne, and given her station this bothers very few. Her subtly-exotic coloration paints her as descending from somewhere in Eurus - or the Dune Kingdoms - and this she'll freely admit to any who ask. Likewise, that she has been married and thus assumed an oddly-paired brace of names. She has only been in Arx a short time, already holding several short stints in taverns around the city, where she has exhibited clear skill in cooking, cleaning, and even controlling the rowdier atmospheres - but conversely, a sharp tongue and a headstrong attitude have done nothing to maintain her reputation and keep a job. She is a troublesome creature, though it must be said that she makes excellent sweetbuns, and is a thoroughly competent listener should the proper respect be given. A few have noticed the knotting of old scars upon her shoulders and neck, and also how swiftly Qadira covers them from view. More intriguing still, when between jobs she has been glimpsed flitting almost ghostlike through some of the poorer areas, apparently also purchasing items from apothecaries and paying visits to homes afflicted by sickness. It's uncertain where she has obtained the funding for such things, or how long her coin could possibly last given the short-lived nature of her employment. Other rumors suggest she has been seen around the docks, and outside the walls of the city, conducting meetings with seedy-seeming individuals. The general opinion is that she can't be trusted; even as a not-so-humble barmaid, she has been known to 'appear' at a table and shock men into choking on their drinks. Despite her shady dealings, or perhaps because of them, Qadira is known to keep to herself, and has few friends - if any. Certainly in her first few months in the city, her companionship has been irregular and unpredictable. She spends more time with strays in alleyways than she does other people. Whatever darkness lies in her past can be of little consequence, truly; she's certainly lowborn, likely a bastard, and far from wealthy. Just a little better-endowed than a perpetually-unemployed tavern-tender should be.

Qadira stares at the world through verdant green eyes flecked with browns and grays. Accentuated by the steep incline of her outer brows, it's a cold, hard gaze, a touch unnaturally-sunken, that detracts from her better attributes. Her lightly-tan skin is smooth and mostly unblemished, at least upon her face, spread over pronounced cheekbones that lend a fortright shape to her face. It challenges the world to see her, making all the clearer a generous, subtly-expressive mouth, and a strong jawline that culminates in a divot upon the chin. An equally-strong philtrum drives home that this woman's face is fighting itself. As if she denies her own femininity, any perceived weakness it may carry. Dark hair tumbles carelessly to frame the resulting bundle, reaching just shy of the shoulders, covering her ears - and at times, almost fully one half of her face. Faint freckles dust Qadira's shapely neckline, leading down to a body that is slim, compact, and powerful. She's built like a whip, long limbs corded finely with the muscle of labor, but refusing to mass the weight they maybe should. When she moves, it's with a graceful sort of purpose that's a more intentional challenge than the structure of her face. Whether she refuses to be stopped out of defiance, or simply cannot stop herself, is perhaps unclear, but Qadira exudes energy and purpose in all that she does.

Contrary to impressions, Qadira is neither a misanthrope nor unkind. Her past - raised a thrall and later married and fled - creates a natural wariness, but she is a compassionate and fairly intuitive woman. Even charming, on the right day, her accrued strength lending confidence to her words and an honesty that comes across as confrontational because it is; daring the world to be better. She takes her tasks seriously, from cooking to tending wounds and picking pockets, applying an admirable passion to all she does. The criminality is unfortunate, but she claims caution in whom she steals from, and a desire to do anything else. Being born with nothing does distort one's worldview. In truth this hard-eyed hellion is more canine than feline, though she has yet to find her 'pack'. She's as prickly as her name, but Qadira ultimately believes in commonality, and that people who apply themselves can accomplish feats beyond their limits. A life spent in captivity does make her profoundly naive in many ways; raging against the powerful on principle, or rejecting and ejecting an unruly customer over their unwise actions. This swiftness to judge may change, in time, when she finds her trust. For now she's at least a good conversation and a fine friend to those who don't ignite her smouldering temper. The future could be bright, if she doesn't end up imprisoned or executed.