Vyra Silara
-Aggressive Negotiator-
}{Official Name}{
Vyra Jade Silara
}{Pronunciation}{
(Veer-ah) or (Vear-ah)
}{Quote}{
"We fall so we can rise taller. We break so we can heal stronger. No one said progress would be easy."
}{Titles}{
Lady of Naboo
Eternal Empress of Kalidan
}{Homeworld}{
Naboo
}{Occupation | Job | Profession}{
::Previously::
Senator, Government Representative
::Currently::
::Libertatem Populi::
Vyra is a founding member and goodwill Ambassador for a small but powerful group of retired government officials known as 'The Libertatem Populi', a privately funded organization with a mission to leave behind the corruption of official government and truly focus on improving the lives of the people, especially in smaller, destitute communities. They also specialize in tracking down and upsetting the slave trade however they can, finding legitimate employment and homes for freed slaves with nowhere to go and providing them with proper health care and therapy.
}{Force Sensitivity}{
Unknown
}{Faction | Allegiance}{
Colonial Union
Wife of Kainan Wolfe
}{Species}{
Human
}{Age}{
30
}{Gender}{
Female
}{Height}{
5'5"
}{Weight}{
115 lbs
}{Eye Color}{
Cinnamon Brown
}{Hair Color}{
Warm Chestnut
}{Build}{
Slender, petite frame, lithe with subtle muscle tone, sharp shoulders and narrow torso.
}{Appearance and Temperament}{
[member=Vidalu Na'an] once commented that Vyra "had a face like spun glass and a temperament to match", beautiful but delicate. While she retains some of her former splendor, the rest of her has bloomed from the fragile flower it once was into something stronger, more durable. Gone are the soft, ample, sensual curves of the pampered nobility, lost to the toils and depraved conditions of slavery. Gone is the innocent roundness of her face, the flawless skin of hands that had never seen labor. Lean muscle lends faint definition to her limbs now, and light pink-white scars from her experiences are scattered across her pale flesh. Her chestnut tresses tumble down her back but lack the full bounce of youth, and are often left untouched and rarely styled in wild waves. Her face, a regal nose, full lips, wide brown eyes and high cheekbones more defined by time, sports very little of the bright, fashionable makeup she used to wear, opting instead for a darker, smokier version of a natural palette. There are numerous callouses etched into her palms and fingers from countless long hours of climbing, and the skin on the back of her hands is often dried and cracked from chalk use.
Although her empathetic spirit is still mostly intact, Vyra's meek, gentle, freely compassionate nature is no longer at the forefront of her personality, having retreated behind the iron walls she was forced to raise in order to survive on her own. Where she once offered trust openly and without question, she's learned to be more selective in those she puts her faith in, and her ever-hopeful, ever-optimistic outlook is now tempered with a grim kind of realism. Enslavement and abuse, while damaging her in other ways, has given her a fresh perspective on life. She never takes anything for granted anymore, appreciating every freedom, grateful for every breath, and tries to make the most of each moment. Freedom is sweet.
While still tactful as ever, she's more inclined to tell the world to screw off every once in a while, the sharpness of her silver tongue honed by the spark of power she unlocked inside while fighting for her life. Her willingness to always put everyone else above herself has shifted; after being everyone's proverbial doormat for many years, she's paying closer attention to her own happiness as opposed to bending over backwards to please the world, although not at the great expense of others. There's a bold, flinty confidence to her poise and a spirited bite to her attitude that highlights the natural piquancy of her personality. She moves, speaks, and stands with the authority of someone who's paid her dues and earned her wisdom, a trait that can sometimes be misinterpreted as superiority to those who don't know her, but she will fight tooth, word and nail for others when she believes there's been injustice and would never be intentionally cruel or patronizing to anyone, no matter which 'side' of the argument they were on. Vyra does struggle with remnants of post-traumatic stress disorder from her time in the Zygerrian Slave Pits and the events of her capture before, as well as some residual parts of Caoimhin's personality and habits from when their spirits shared her body, which the Vyridian brothers locked away in an inaccessible corner of her mind, though recent events have brought his Echo to the surface...
This is a sharper Vyra with a clearer sense of self, far more capable, liberated, self-reliant. Many of her frivolous trappings have fallen away. She wields diplomacy like a fine sword, battling oppression and corruption in all its forms with fire in her words, steel grace in her actions and the unyielding fortitude of someone who intimately knows what she's fighting against. She is by no means fearless or unshakable. Rather, she’s learned how to push through it.
Before her ascension to Empress of the Eternal Empire, Vyra had traded most of her heavy, lavish gowns and elaborate ensembles of high politics for simpler, more modern outfits, favoring comfort and practicality over fashion. But once again in the public eye, the new monarch had reclaimed her more ornate fashion choices as would be required of her position, although she made a point to keep her dress-of-state as humble and militaristic as possible, in respect for the Eternal Empire's culture.
Now free from royal responsibilities and titles, Vyra has turned in her crown jewels and gowns for the tougher garments of the hard-working colonists she helps to guide, often seen in fitted cotton and leathers, rugged boots and waterproof jackets. She brought nothing with her from her life in the Eternal Empire save the sword her husband gave her.
}{Strengths}{
Cool, Calm and Collected: Always the diplomat, Vyra’s cool composure under pressure rarely fails her, having honed her responses over time. This ability has served her well in many areas, although it was put to the test during her enslavement. Upon joining the ranks of the Eternal Empire, however, she's struggled to keep herself together as she once did.
Embrace Life: Life as a slave, no matter how briefly, alters one’s perception. After three years trapped underground in the Slave Pits of Zygerria with no real hope of freedom, Vyra’s come to see just how precious everything she’d taken for granted before truly is. The grass is greener, the sun brighter, the food tastier, the air sweeter. It has allowed her to live more in the moment, appreciate the smaller things and give more focus to the important ones.
Family Legacy: The melding of the Silara and Salicaire bloodlines, the fierce political powerhouse and the captivating, charismatic artist, has gifted Vyra with the perfect tools for her trade. Her personality retains the initial traits of her two families (as well as the more negative ones), blending them together into someone who, with plenty of guidance and practice, can accomplish most things she sets her mind to.
Vox Populi: She entered politics to be a true and dedicated voice for the people, but lost sight of her initial drive when the corruption of ‘real-world government’ drew her energy. Now, liberated from her twisted and tainted gilded cage, Vyra is once again focusing on the important things, lending her passion, knowledge and skills to fighting for the enslaved, the overlooked and the underappreciated who so desperately want their governments to hear them.
No Mountain High Enough: It took free-climbing her way out of a hundred-foot-deep muddy pit to earn her freedom from slavery and she developed a taste for the activity. Five years later, she still climbs every day, pushing herself past her limits, conquering many a mountain, and she’s become quite good at the ‘sport’. It also helps her cope with what she's been through.
Self-Reliant: Not to say Vyra never needs a helping hand (although she likes to pretend she doesn't), but she's become far more secure surviving alone than she used to be.
}{Weaknesses}{
Veneer: Although this particular problem has improved over the last seven years, the mask of performance and deception fostered by the distorted practices of high-political public life still sometimes falls into place for Vyra out of habit, though she’s able to tear it off quickly now that she’s fully aware of it.
Wary of Romance: She’s a tad gun-shy about engaging in serious romance, not just because she’s been used and abused too many times but because the kind of men she is initially drawn to are often toxic and dangerous, possessive and brash, and it’s never worked out well for her in the past.
Victim | Pawn | Damsel In Distress: Perhaps her greatest (and oldest) 'flaw' is not one she actively chooses or intends to engage in, but is instead the role the universe thrusts Vyra into time and time again no matter how she fights it. Kidnapped, imprisoned, used as bait, currency and leverage… It's a vicious, inescapable cycle, and although isolating herself and learning how to handle these situations alone has helped break it on occasion, she is eventually pulled back in and it starts all over again. She's managed to mostly avoid it after gaining her freedom, not just from slavery but from the possessive people of her past, but she knows it's only a matter of time before it begins again. At least this time, she'll be ready for it.
Superiority: To clarify, Vyra does not believe herself superior to others in any way. However, when fired up and on an impassioned roll she can occasionally come across as rather imperious, a known flaw of House Silara.
Combat Experience: Despite the adventurous, danger-filled life she’s led the past sixteen years, the ex-senator’s hand-to-hand could use some work. A LOT of work. A lifetime of relying on others to fill this role for her has left her at a severe disadvantage in combat. She’s a fair shot with a blaster but nothing special and she can throw a punch or two when pushed to it, but while she’s become fairly adept at evading, Vyra still has very little skill in battle.
PTSD: Used, abused, enslaved, tortured, witness to obscene amounts of trauma and excruciating pain of the soul, Vyra grapples with her demons daily. She’s made immense progress over the past four years, mentally and physically, and has learned to focus her emotions into something positive and progressive, but if she’s not careful she can slip back into the darkness.
Fear of Abandonment: Left behind by everyone she ever cared about, Vyra struggles with her simultaneous desires to be both needed and left alone. Fear of letting others in turns into fear of losing them, and so she keeps many friends but rarely holds them closely.
Independence: While her independent streak does empower her, it can also be a huge detriment in her ability to intimately connect with others outside of her work, misleading her to believe she doesn’t need anyone.
Everything happens for a reason.
There is always hope.
Those were the mottos I lived by, the pegs I hung my hat on at the end of the day and the truths I leaned on when I was hurt or scared. They were my cornerstone through many misfortunes, the phrases I’d sing to others when they needed comfort, and though the galaxy thought me naïve I truly believed in their power. In a way I still do, despite everything I've been through. But my understanding of them has deepened, grown, as does everything with time and experience.
Everything truly does happen for a reason.
But hope is not always found, nor is it always there to find. Sometimes, you have to make your own.
There was a woman in The Pits on Zygerria, Cleo, now old and withered but born right there in the mud, a slave before she'd even left her mother's womb. I wasn't there but a week before I began to fall apart, waiting for someone to rescue me, but no matter how cruelly life ground her into the dirt with its heel, no matter what the Overseers put her through Cleo never wavered, never seemed to lose her strength of will or break under the constant mental and physical strain. She seemed…indestructible. I asked her how she did it, how she found hope despite having no future. I'll never forget her answer. So simple, so obvious, something I shouldn’t have forgotten when life was turned upside down but I couldn't see it under the waves of my own misery. "Find a reason bigger than yourself and make your own hope, child," she said quietly. "Know what you're fighting for. Put your faith there. Grab it and don't let it go, Vyra, no matter what. Don't let it go."
Something in my soul clicked into place. And I realized no one was coming for me. Not this time.
Cleo rescued my spirit. It was up to me to rescue the rest of me.
So, I found my reason. I made my own hope. And I fought for it.
The rumor from the Overseers was if you could climb out of the Slave Pit, you'd have your freedom. It took me three years, the death of my friend Omari and countless agonizing failures but as the rain came down and the sky flickered electric purple, I scaled the treacherous, impossible hundred foot pit Wall, something no one had managed before, and stood above ground breathing free air for the first time since my capture.
The Liberation of Zygerria was short, bloody and largely unsuccessful, ultimately leading to death for most of the slaves who rose up after me. I still carry that weight, still see their faces. Our revolt was brushed under the rug like the dirt we'd clawed our way out of and the galaxy was none the wiser. But for those left behind as well as those who escaped with me, it left behind a seed of hope, something for those in chains to nurture and those with freedom to fight for. If a small girl from Naboo could climb the impossible Wall and momentarily tip the scales, maybe someone else could. Maybe the future wasn't so dark. Maybe freedom was within their grasp.
It's been almost five years since that day. I was never formally given my freedom, but in my mind, I took it back when I made the climb. And every day when I wake, I make sure I earn the right to live a free woman.
Freedom is a right, not a privilege, and I'll fight for that right, YOUR right, until my dying breath no matter what form slavery takes or who it tries to crush under its heel. Jedi, Sith, Imperial, Republic, First Order, Alliance, Force or non-Force, civilian or royalty, old or young, darkside or lightside, injustice and enslavement do not differentiate and neither do I. Because when you peel away the faction layers, the colored uniforms, accents, political opinions and occupations, and throw what's left into a pit with no feasible escape? It won't matter where you're from or what you've believed before. You will want your freedom.
So I fight for freedom for all races and allegiances, for those that can't fight, those that can, those that won't and those that are too afraid to make their stand.
But I live for the chance, no matter how small, that I might one day see a galaxy free from all forms of slavery, mental and physical. I live for the chance that someday my efforts will see me free from my own demons. I live to spite the innumerable beings who sought to smother my voice and possess my body. It sounds impossible? Am I 'dreaming' too big? Are my desires too unrealistic?
They said that about The Wall, too.
And look how far I've come already.
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