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Archlector Wylla of Jayus

Never give up art. Creation is all we are. Without it, our lives are empty as the void.

Social Rank: 5
Concept: Dreamer Facing Reality
Fealty: Crownsworn
Family: Halfshav
Gender: female
Marital Status: single
Age: 35
Birthday: 2/2
Religion: Pantheon; Jayus
Vocation: Priest
Height: short
Hair Color: flame red
Eye Color: brilliant blue
Skintone: freckled fair

Titles: Archlector of Jayus

Description: Though many of the women of her line are tall, Wylla is short-stacked and lushly curved. Her hair is a dramatic mane of fiery curls, framing a heart-shaped face of milky hue, dusted with dozens of tiny freckles -- not quite so much that she has more freckle than face, but it's a joke that has been made in the past and made her blush furiously. Her lips are thin beneath a small, pointed nose. Her eyes are brilliant blue, wide and deep and full of an idealist's dreams as yet unfractured.

Her right arm, when exposed, reveals inked lines in her skin, a floral pattern of limbs and blossoms that extend over a prosthetic hand carved in ivory. It doesn't matched the golden flush of living skin, but it is carved in perfect likeness to its twin.

Personality: Warm and quiet by nature with a dreamer's bright eyes, Wylla is growing into her maturity with the support of her faith behind her. Creativity and art call her most, and she connects to people through these mediums far better than any other way. Flirting, for example, makes her blush ridiculously despite the gravity of her status. She can be a bit dithery. She is a loving, compassionate person, but deep within her is the spark of an ember of fiery passion, and once her temper is roused -- a difficult feat to accomplish -- she has the capacity to change from shy and mousy to terrifying in her ferocity. The blood of Halfshav Dukes that runs in her veins, perhaps.

Background: Wylla was definitely born in the wrong house. Sometimes when she was a girl, surrounded by a history of warriors and glory, she thought that someone had somehow switched her at birth, perhaps with someone from a family of craftsmen -- people who were small and quiet and knew what they wanted. Of course -- she had the looks of her family, with her bright red hair and milky skin and freckles, so it couldn't really be so. But she definitely didn't have the martial theme that seemed so common in her house.

All Wylla wanted was to paint. Even when she was a little girl, her spare time was spent in ink and charcoal and paint. Outside, she made snow sculptures. But it was with ink and paint and brush that she always excelled. She was called to the work, and so it was not actually /that/ much of a surprise when, coming to the capital with her family, it was the Shrine of Jayus that most often called the paint-stained little girl to its benches and festivals. She followed an old priest of Jayus there around, and he frequently suggested discipleship to her, but she always felt sad about it. Being a lay dedicate for Jayus seemed like half measures. At 16, she chose to do it anyway.

At 22, Wylla was all set to marry into a lesser house. It was three days before her wedding day when, painting in her room, she suddenly burst into tears. The images would not come. Nothing would come to her. She wept inconsolably and lay in bed for a day and a night. She broke off the marriage after that, and went to join the Faith, not as a lay dedicate, but as a godsworn, for the marriage of her heart was to the gods.

It caused trouble for her family. But the Faith was her new family now.

Being a priest was difficult for Wylla, especially at first. Art and creativity called her, but people did not. She was socially awkward and uncomfortable. It took her time to grow and learn. But connecting with people through art worked well for her, so it only made sense that she worked so much with Jayus's dedicates. When the Archlector of Jayus, her old mentor, passed away, it was his desire that she succeed him. She's still getting used to it.

Name Summary
Evaristo I am glad we met, and glad she told me about Josie, but I wish in a way that we had not met because of that, cause now it's yet another reminder, when I try so hard to forget. But I love her passion and drive and plans, and I suppose I want in on it. A little.
Savio I am comforted and broken and mended, in a cup of cider, in a shrine in the snow. Creation is so many things, and I am glad to have spoken with her, and I hope I might do so again.