Born in the vague area of forestry where tribes often live, Rhis was raised as any other tribal would be. Lots of moms and some survival. Unfortunately for all parties involved, this did not create a normal Miqo'te. Her curiously wired head sparked to life once it was fed teachings. These wires gently pulled her away from the other children. Her questions were uncomfortable and her stories were frightening. Her favorite animal was a snake and she couldn't be trusted for more than fifteen seconds with a sharp object in the room. Every other child surrounding her eventually found itself estranged by something, somehow.
With adolescence's arrival, Rhis' peaceful surroundings grew more hostile. The tables had turned! Kids no longer feared what they had come to call the cursed child when they could simply force it away from their world. They could push and shove their old phobia as they pleased, abusing it in the hopes that one day, it would stop smiling back and finally flee. Thankfully, before too long, the tribe's curse would follow their wishes and disappear thanks to their elders, who had the wisdom to see good in the child. Rhis spent the rest of her time among her kin with the artisans and hunters, hidden away inside of workshops and butcheries. From this, she learned of craftsmanship, of the ways to turn darkness into beauty... She made very beautiful things.
A few years later, as her adolescence began to wane, the elders found themselves forced to make a decision. Their secret prodigy had grown big, adventurous and impossible to hide away for much longer without conflict from their tribe. Despite their love, they would have to kindly set her free. She had three days to make her goodbyes, take anything she needed and leave. Rhis took a single afternoon thanking the ones who had raised her well and on the next morning, she was gone without another word. Off to the great city-states with a change of clothes and a small knife, the artist would not be prepared for what lied in wait. The tribes were a serene haven and now she had jumped into the lion's den. There was no love to be had, here, but after a few restless days learning to survive in the busy and uncaring streets of the city states, she found a boundless supply of inspiration.The first year was the hardest, starving in Gridania, but as the moons went by, Rhis learned more than just survival. She learned of profit. By the end of her second year, the exile had procured a ticket to Ul'Dah, where the weather was always comfortable, the people were rich and the booze was cheap. She would easily make a living selling anything her little knife could carve, saving up to buy more little knives, window shopping for the big ones. On a day like any other, barging into every smithy in town to see their work, she ran into a smith unlike the rest. A smith that had caught enough rumors to know who the guest was. A short-tempered Hyur that would come to offer her an opportunity, a home and the reputable career Y'Rhis still holds today.
Rhis only stands out on a second glance. She is average in most regards, no shorter or taller than any would think, nor strangely postured or built. A cursory check shows an average, messy Miqo'te. The details come out after a proper look at the figure. Her messy, yet clean hair. Her old, perfectly maintained clothing. The ornate sheathes that would never belong on such a tattered, disorganized stranger. The same goes for her face, a set of empty eyes forever hidden away behind a red pince-nez, leaving only an amused expression lingering on her lips. If one was to remove the glasses, the tatters and the priceless blades at her sides, they would see a story. Beneath her clothes lie skin covered in all sorts of scars, all made in different events, too many events to remember. Behind her shades, a thousand yard stare far more observant than even she could realize.
Y'Rhis may have some obscure and possibly complicated interests, she herself is a rather simple woman. She is easy to please and hard to anger, going out of her way to find happiness in the little things. She is a stoic figure, rarely exuding more than a glimpse of real emotion, always projecting a dead stare and a blank face outwards, often with a little smirk of amusement at things most would find irrelevant. Behind the stone cold, deathly bored and undisciplined aura lies something a bit more human. After a while, becoming accustomed to the little outward emotion shown, one would notice Y'Rhis' more important traits. They will usually come to notice her obsession with bladed objects, her willingness to offer favors to complete strangers, her unhealthy work ethic and her endless resolve. Rhis can see something beautiful in even the bleakest of pictures, in fact, with enough time, one would eventually notice her attraction to misery, where she observes the burning passion and touching conviction of the people within it.
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