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A mere kajira .. his, kajira. Nearly two years ago her neck found a home within the wrap of his steel. It took years, literally the better part of her adult life, owner upon owner, scarred and fallen, healed and risen, over and over, before he found her thinking her worthy of such. Generally quiet and reserved, especially around those whom are free; lest she lose him and his undeniable and utterly complete, dominion. Kept under the strictest reign, regardless of her own steadfast efforts to remain his, she is constantly under the watchful eye of his hired hand, Merk. The lightly tanned flesh of her slight, feminine frame is clothed in scant diaphanous blue silk, beneath which is an iron belt. Of average height, nearly 53 horts, naia tips the scale at precisely 30 stones. Large hazel eyes framed by thick mocha lash are accentuated by the natural blush of her high cheek bones and full, crimson hued lips. Waves of golden Tor-tu-Gor streaked hair, the texture of spun silk, falls loosely to the slender slope of her back. |
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Turian collar, plate stating: "I am the Property of Saul of Ar" |
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