Ilira Whisper

Ilira Whisper
Social Rank	7
Fealty	Crownsworn "Crownsworn" is not in the list of possible values (Redrain, Valardin, Grayson, Thrax, Pravus, Lyceum, Crown) for this property.
House	Whisper
Gender	Female
Age	30
Religion	Open To Listen
Vocation	Performer
Height	short
Hair Color	Raven
Eye Color	Azure
Skintone	Sun-kissed Snow
Journals
Authored By / Featured In
Active

Description

A mere five feet from head to toe, she brims with boundless energy, fire in her azure irises and freedom in her effortless movements. A full, wild mass of raven curls cascades luxuriously about her petite form to brush the taper of her waist, spun with the richness of velvet and the luster of silk. Fringed lavishly by sable lashes, her deep, crystalline eyes are a melange of blues, immense and softly canted with fiery gold starbursts at the pupils. Her fresh-faced radiance belies the years behind her gaze, with a rosy flush at the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her button nose. Pert, heart-shaped lips of sumptuous carmine part to flash her pearly teeth. Pale as snow, her creamy skin glows with undertones of sun-soaked gold, as a silvery hint of scarring laces her collarbone and left palm. The vivacity with which she carries herself sets off her sinfully blessed figure, from the swell of her plump bosom to the flare of her luscious hips, each flow and sway displaying the lean, fluid musculature at her core and throughout her shapely limbs.

Personality

Ilira lives, laughs, and loves like she's challenging the world to make her stop. From performance to romance, she pours her soul into all she does, an alchemy of passion and sensuality. She cherishes and radiates her happiness, joyful just to be alive and breathing. Because under all that joie de vivre lingers inklings of pain and fear, the remnants of a time when her heart wasn't so light. Lust for life is her own form of defiance. She will sing, she will dance, she will twine bodies and hearts, and damned if she'll be done before she's dead.

But frivolity has never been completely her way. Steel lies at the core of all that fire and sunshine, and she puts herself as purposefully to revelry as she does to duty. Those who come between she and a goal learn her fury, and those who threaten the ones she cares for discover just how hot that fury burns. Friends and family are the most precious. Leave them be, and she remains as vivacious and whimsical a wildling as ever.

Background

Ilira came to Arx as a shadow of herself. She needed both a soft place to land and something to rebound off, a new opportunity, and the capital never disappoints. The life she has led the last few years is distinctly different from the one before, of which she rarely speaks in more than vague terms. She'll tell freely of her childhood, her abandonment to a shav tribe of the Saffron Isles, of her years in Setarco she spent as a youth to hone graces practiced and innate. The details thin as the recount progresses. By sixteen, she was traveling on her own up and down the Chain and beyond, known to all for her beauty and vivacity. "Ilira the little sun," many called her. And then something happened at eighteen: she disappeared.

For months, there was a search to no avail, until, one day, she reappeared on the shores of her island by the same tree the shav had found her beneath as a newborn. When asked where she had gone, she only said, "A place afar," with a conspiratory smile for the horizon itself. She did not linger in the place she once called home long. Life and adventure awaited her beyond, and she went forth into the world to pursue it. The gaps between contact grew longer and longer. The people who knew her would notice changes each time she returned--a new skill or a fresh look, or simply the experience that weighed behind her eyes. But the last return was different. She seemed half of herself, withdrawn and solemn in a way completely uncharacteristic to the scintillant girl of before. She retired to that island a while, contemplating her next steps and deriving comfort from her old home. It was in this time that she first set her sights on the capital--the fresh start it presented. So late in spring, right around the formation of the whirlpool, she readied herself to sail north.

Ilira slipped into life here with quiet, delicate ease. She joined the Bard's College first, the Whispers second, serving her role as courtier with grace and subtlety for three years. Some of her greatest talents were kept all but to herself in this time. But gradually, through connections, resources, and support, she shed that reservation and rediscovered her fire, a phoenix's change from the person she arrived as. She thirsts to live and do and be all that she may, and everything cultivated to this point is just a beginning. So the question remains: a beginning to what?