Standing just under six feet, Ciara possesses a regal bearing supported by finely-sculpted, symmetrical features and a crown of tempestuous, midnight waves. Unrestrained, layered strands oft stray into her eyes and play at prominent collarbones before spilling over proudly-drawn shoulders to end their sway just above the curve of her hips. When some attempt at management is made, for combat or vanity, the elongated, elegantly tapered ears of the woman’s Sephi heritage become more apparent. Bronzed skin betrays a mixed, humanoid parentage, but glows with a youth that suggests Ciara has inherited the longer lifespans of her Sephi ancestors.
Set above high cheekbones and beneath sharply-arched brows, arresting emerald eyes once merely flecked with gold have given way to deeper, molten fissures. A dramatic, hourglass figure belies and often distracts from the lithe, supple muscle that shifts just beneath the surface. Her arms taper to slender wrists, nimble fingers and nails meticulously manicured to maintain strong, subtle points. Full lips, stained like a deep, red wine, part to the roll of a thick, darkly rhythmic voice.
Ciara’s presence is rarely felt merely in the physical. The resonance of her voice parting silken lips to reverberate in her hearer’s mind is often a foreboding precursor to the seeking tendrils of the Force that ask no consent in their quest to fulfill their mistress’ whim.
Lacking any true empathy, Ciara has found other means to understand and unravel the people around her. What began as a solution to a natural limitation has evolved to a predation that knows no bounds and causes even would-be allies to reconsider. No one, friend or foe, is entitled to the privacy of their thoughts; your secrets are hers to conceal or dispense at will; and her greatest pleasure is ruining a man with some terrible truth buried in his own soul.
Convinced the galaxy belongs to those upon whom the Force has bestowed itself, Ciara has little regard for mundanes beyond their practical usefulness as expendable commodities and can underestimate them. Among Force-users, Ciara respects the powerful and the enlightened and views those who would limit themselves or others in either respect as unworthy of the gift and a hindrance to progress.
While she will not hesitate to cull those she finds unfit for their calling, Ciara has begun to seek and cultivate a certain class of Force-user to form the inner circle of a mystic order she and her partner christened Saarai, or truth, in the Sith tongue. Those who catch her eye are those few willing to go any length, descend any depth and cross any line to attain knowledge, power and dominion. They are those for whom nothing is sacred, everything is permitted and enough is never enough.
While generally inclined to the Krath tradition, Ciara is a woman who embodies the foundational tenet of the Sith Code: peace is a lie, there is only passion. In her view, only fools and cowards afraid to face their true nature deny their own desires. Though calculating and capable of remarkable restraint, she rarely denies herself any impulse and simply takes what she wants when the time is right. Be it through her own experience or a kind of vampiric feeding on the pain she senses (or inflicts) in others’ minds, Ciara seeks passion wherever it may be found – from the basest, sensual pleasure or the highest spiritual ecstasy to the taste of blood or the chasms of despair.
Whether a consequence of the consuming nature of passion or desperation to fill the numbing void of loss, the Tarentae has found her desires increasingly difficult to sate.
At her core, Ciara is a creator and provocateur. She despises stagnancy and apathy and will suffer a void only as a means to an end. Her penchant for illusion and mind control is purely about the power to incite passion and to shape the reality of another individual. Though she speaks little of her long absence from the Brotherhood, Ciara returned having extended her craft from mindscapes to the physical world. Perhaps first inspired by the impact of Castle Tarentum or the Mystics' Asylum, she became enthralled by architecture's ability to evoke, provoke and even invoke – often subconsciously – and threw herself into its study. Her work often includes experimental techniques involving the Force, drawing on ancient patterns while pushing the boundaries of advancement.
Her designs are typically birthed in a fit of inspiration and completed in long, isolated periods where all other priorities are forgotten.
To engage in combat with Ciara is to enter the battlefield of the mind and risk a break with reality. The Krath-adherent has spent years strategically honing her natural gifts with the mind-altering powers of the Force, and she has learned to combine them to force all but the strongest wills to play her games. Equally likely to draw inspiration from the desire and passions of her prey as their fears, Ciara loves the hunt and will employ various methods to push her deceptions to the brink before letting them dissolve – usually at the end of her blade.
As Ciara relies on the Force to inform and implement her illusions and manipulations, opponents of steelier resolve or those able to suppress her connection to the Force will force a more “grounded” battle.
Ciara has developed her skill in the art of a duel on par and in concert with her powers of illusion and mind-trickery – using the one to inform, sharpen and make way for the other in a deadly combination. If she cannot easily influence her opponent through her illusions or mental manipulations, she will look for opportunities to force close-quarters, visceral combat.
Disadvantaged by and distasteful of ranged weapons, Ciara prefers the poetry of a lightsaber blade or the intimacy of steel against flesh. She genuinely enjoys combat, finding the pounding of the heart, the color of first blood, the dance of bodies and minds, the thrill of fear, of rage ... exhilarating. With the right partner or state of mind, Ciara may risk ignoring a chance at a killing blow simply to prolong the engagement for its own sake.