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She never cried. Born to Tiberias Grayson and Annalena Sorrenson on March 3rd, Saira slipped into this world with nary a cry. Bright-eyed and healthy, her silence, then a cause for concern, was merely a foreshadowing of the personality she would grow to develop. Raised in the shadow of three older brothers and three older sisters, Saira never developed a need or desire to be heard. Content to allow her siblings to overshadow her, she retreated into libraries and art studios when naught save her nursemaid would espy her missing. While she listened to the political instruction all Grayson children come to know, her passions did not lie in that field, where conversation was such an integral part of society. She prefered to hide in a candlelit corner with a book or shut herself away in her chambers with a paintbrush or a block of clay. Despite her perpetual reticence, Saira does speak when there is a topic upon which she has an opinion. Sweet, composed and intelligent, she chooses her words wisely, perhaps a bit more politically conscious than she believes herself to be. Even though she is not a fan flirting Princess who giggles when a man looks her way, her serious and reserved nature does lend itself to moments of noble whimsy. Saira will never turn down a chance to acquire lovely dresses or jewels if it presents itself, and she is highhly self-conscious of her position in society. Aloof, some might call her, but to those who know her well, she simply reserves the right to keep her judgements to herself. Now that she has come of age, Saira's position demands her presence more than it ever has before. While she still maintains her quiet and painfully shy nature, she will not slight her family or her responsibilities merely for a quiet moment alone with a paintbrush. She is nothing if not loyal.

Bearing herself with a dancer's finesse and the easy elan native to the self-assured, this sylphic young woman blends cultivated mannerisms with a perpetual air of female reticence. Luxuriant waves of carnelian satin wreathe her head in a lustrous mane. Brilliant threads of amaranth red flicker through the fine strands, causing the hip-length tresses to shimmer like low burning embers. A curved hairline arches over a delicate brow, wisped by the occasional silken tendril. Beneath gracefully arched eyebrows, wide, upturned eyes of a limpid ultramarine blue glisten with a clarity reminiscent of a sun-kissed ocean. Filaments of slate gray edge the irises, casting hazy shades over intense blue until the color resembles the battling hue of storm-tossed swells. Slanted eyelids imbue every glance with a sleepy-eyed reserve, veiled by a dusky border of long, curling lashes. Smooth, porcelain skin boasts warm tawny undertones, the clear blossom of her youth kissing her cheeks with a perpetual shade of early sunset. Patrician features resolve themselves into a countenance refined by impeccable breeding, from the high curves of well-defined cheekbones, to the slim slope of a celestial nose and the lush bow of coral pink lips. Small ears and a rounded chin strike a harmonious accord, effortlessly balancing the ovular symmetry of her face. A fragile neck widens via accentuated clavicles, culminating in the slight span of delicate shoulders, their relaxed poise indicative of cultured etiquette. Lithely toned arms descend to minuscule hands, the intricately-lined palms adjoined to slim, adroit digits tipped by the manicured crescents of burnished fingernails. Feminine blessings distribute themselves upon a svelte, doll-like frame, a rounded bust rising in a soft swell above the slim cage of her ribs. Her lower torso tapers toward a tiny waist, its nipped in turn augmented by the sensuous flare of womanly hips. Lissome legs sculpted by physical exertion sweep into the small-boned bend of graceful ankles. Her feet are well proportionate to her diminutive stature, porcelain doll delicate, with a tendency to carry her in a fluid glide. She speaks in silvery, melodic tones, each word molded by aristocratic elocution.

Painfully shy. Perhaps too shy, might be the first thought when one calls to mind the youngest child of Tiberias and Annalena Grayson. Shy, but sweet, oft with a smile and always a kind word or a helping hand. So long as it does not mean getting her hands dirty, of course. While considered aloof to many of the lower classes, she does not seem to mind. Perhaps she is used to it by now. Despite her reservations, she carries herself with grace and pride, as any Grayson should. Her goals are not outwardly discussed by Saira herself, but any palace servant could tell anyone asking that the young Princess is an artist and even toys with needle and thread upon occasion.