Description: There is an air of mystery and intrigue about her fine features and smoldering amber gaze; a glint of mischief in those curious, attentive eyes that's easy to miss and hard to ignore all at once. The impish image cultivated there loses nothing in the coy curl of lips in suggestive smirk, or charming devil-may-care grin so commonly worn. Her skin is youthful perfection, the colour of over-creamed coffee, free from blemish of battle or sign of senescence, her cheeks rosy with a fetching blush of life. Her hair is a tumble of warmest black, loose curls that shine with a healthy luster until they meet their terminus just above the hip's swell, often decorated by precious metals and over-precious gems meant to catch the light and the eye alike.

She is a graceful figure, tall and long of limb with the dignified stride of a dancer taking the stage, and a presence that suggests the show is about to begin.

Personality: Bold, brash, and audacious. Avita has never been a person that's afraid to share her opinion, it's just that she usually does it in such a way that her true intentions or feelings on the matter are often terribly difficult to ascertain. A master of the complisult, she has a way of saying the most horrendous things and making it sound like the sweetest of sentiments.

Larger than life, an unrepentant hedonist at heart, the embodiment of dignified depravity, and ever so proud of it. She will live this life, damnit, and she'll leave nothing on the table but the sullied scraps. Sure, this will probably inevitably lead to a most spectacular, and likely messy end, but she's cool with it.

Background: On the surface, Avita's life looks pretty average.

Certainly she has spent the majority of her youth in the lap of luxury, going through the mundane routine of the noble born; an education of politics and propriety, of economic and militaristic interests, of subterfuge and secrecy, all of that mind-rotting nonsense one is expected to know to be a fine represtative of the Ischian nobility.

Whatever that means.

She was being groomed to be an emissary of sorts, a political anchor in the storm that has raged and ebbed like an angry tide what seems to be a thousand times over by now -- that of the long-standing conflict between her people, and those of Skal'daja. Of course, it would take time for her to hone her craft before she was truly prepared to serve in such a capacity, but she had always shown an aptitude for swaying favour and inspiring ire at a whim.

It wouldn't be long before her life would truly begin.

Her talents were first truly noticed when she aided in rallying support for Seraceni's efforts during the Gyre War. Her involvement might have been minimal, but one does not have to scream just to make a point, do they? A war requires able bodies, an army needs supplies, and she would be instrumental in providing both. As success began to shine on the horizon, and victory seemed all but won, she was ushered on to her next great political adventure. She expected a new war, to swell the might of Seraceni, to broker the impossible bargains that would see them as an economical, political and militaristic powerhouse to rival the ducal houses of the compact.

She thought she was getting what she wanted. She had gained some acclaim by this point as a shrewd negotiator, a soft voice that carried the gravity of consequence behind her sweetly worded speeches, and artfully written missives. She had found herself well in the thick of it, wading defiantly into the turbulant tides of war once more, as Skal'daja's agents grew bolder, and louder than ever before. Now was her chance. Now was her time! She must strike whilst the iron was ... what do you mean, that's not what's needed?

... What do you -mean-, 'politically sound union'??

Yes, she thought she was going to be the new name in all things political. That they would use her skills in the diplomatic arts to bolster their numbers, and send the Skal'dajani scuttling back to their castles in the sand. Instead, like her father before her, she was meant to wed a member of Eurusi nobility, that they might further strengthen their oft tenuous bonds in hopes of a more peaceful, unified future for Ischia. A Prince, in fact, that for reasons yet to be discovered was to be joined to Seraceni as a supposed boon granted. How strange.

Regardless, marry she did.

She's still not sure how she feels about it.

Oh well. The show must go on!

Relationship Summary

Family:

Dio - My favourite cousin.

Ciro - Also my favourite cousin?

Ophira - Actually my favourite cousin.

Frenemy:

Tovell - Once upon a time, there was a turtle that carried a scorpion upon its back ...

Patron:

Martino - How fortuitous that it so happened the Duke was seeking a protege just as I was seeking a Patron. More fortunate yet that he has not yet bored me with his stories, and I suspect he has ever so many yet to tell.

Protege:

Etienne - Goodness, what IS it about these Telmar boys that makes them insist upon being such a thorn in my side? The former Archlector of Gild, with his keen and curious mind for trade and his infuriating sense of right over wrong. How he struggles ... but, I have not yet begun to fight.

Duarte - How charming a man, how willful a scandal, how delightful a friend. There are few that would be up to the task, I have it on good authority, of guiding the Count forward in such turbulent political clime. Surely, t'would be a fool's errand, were you to listen to some. Luckily for him, I am that fool.

Gibson - Such a curious fellow with such a winning grin. I'm never quite sure if he's smiling at me, or at something he's not telling me. Either way, what bliss.

Viviana - Oh, my darling Viviana -- keeper of secrets, wielder of sword and word alike, raider of my coveted wine cellar, provider of the most entertaining tales. I think my time in this place would be insufferable without you.

Spouse:

Ciaphas - He purposely annoys me, and I can see clear his game, yet cannot seem to stop playing it. Former Eurusi Prince, celebrated general, dune-kissed dervish of some exotic place in some other time, pigtail pulling schoolboy that begs my attention. It is this reason I deny him, why I ignore him with such obvious apathy. I can think of no punishment more cruel.