daena darkfire | district one | fin

daena darkfire ` district one` fifteen ` twin sister of daeron

“Do you know how diamonds are made?" She gazed steadily at him, the light turning her green eyes transparent. He didn't wait for her to answer. "They're made of a single element - carbon. But, over millions of years, the carbon had to undergo incredible pressure-something like a minimum of four hundred pounds per square inch-and cook to at least seven hundred degrees. The amazing thing is that if there's not enough pressure or heat, instead of a diamond, plain old graphite is made. Imagine that-instead of the world's most indestructible and beautiful thing, you get just graphite.”

Daena knows a thing or two about pressure - about being suffocated from all sides. When each day, breathing and existing threatens to break you in two.

Daena is tall and thin, much like her older brother Aemon. Her hair is the color of straw in the summer, but its natural luster grows darker during the autumn and winter months. There are moments (flashes, really) when she wishes to cut it all off or dye it brown to hide her family heritage. But those moments are fleeting. She can't escape her fate that easy. Her eyes are brown, the color of dark honey. They pierce through you - Daena's gaze startling when it shines upon you. When she smiles, the smile doesn't reach her eyes any longer. Her steps are measured and calculated, her eyes always scanning for any sign of the traitor. There is an Italian word for it - sprezzatura. Loosely translated it is defined as “a defensive irony.” It is a studied art of concealment, it is a way to mask your true desires, thoughts, and feelings. Along with the connotations of projecting an outward carelessness, comes the elegance of exuding grace under pressure.

That is Daena.

Her favorite color to wear is red - the most prominent color in her family crest. She is arrogant, a personality trait that she shares with all of her siblings, save her ass of a twin. They are all coping how they know best, and she should not fault him. Her brother, Daeron has retreated into himself, even more so now that Aegon and Aemon have endlessly taunted him about screams in the night and sheets drenched with sweat. Daena and Daeron aren’t as close as they used to be and she misses that bond that one has with their twin, but everything has changed. Her anger is fire and her wrath will be surgical. They will find out who did this to their family. They will exact their revenge.

Daena is jealous of her brother. He copes with his artistry – crafting stones and gems into gorgeous pieces. She envies his ability to create something beautiful. She copes by fighting. Every day is another war and she will certainly be the victor in that battle. She screams – she screams as loud as she can to the stars when no one is around, bottles cracked and broken against tree trunks, her favorite sword settled up against the bark as her arm tires from the numerous hits against the wood. Nothing she can do will bring them back. Nothing will remove the pain of losing them.

The anger - the fire that graces all of their names, she holds inside of her.

Our lovely girl - she isn't our heroine - she is far too fucked up to be a savior - she drinks like its going out of style. She sneaks out and she parties and she dances until the sun comes up, her voice hoarse from endless screaming matches with the dead and numerous cigarettes enjoyed with whoever was around at four o'clock in the morning. Her partners are usually women, but let's be honest, she isn't picky.