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Physical traits
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Age: 21

Height: 5’5

Body type: Eira is a small girl but rather curvaceous for her frame. She appears rather delicate, fragile in construction from the bones in her limbs to the petite layout of her face.

Skin: Naturally a light cream color, her time in the American sun has caused it to become a much more attractive golden tan which she finds herself enjoying far too much. The freckles across the bridge of her nose though are something she could easily live without. She is lucky in that other than the scars on her knees from years of clumsiness, she doesn’t bare any further scars or imperfections to her skin.

Eyes: Cat shaped and surrounded by thick long lashes, Eira sports a pair of vivid green eyes with duel tones of dark hunter green and lighter sea foam. Her face is very expressive to her thoughts, but her eyes are truly a window to her emotions, making her easy to read no matter the smile she has on her lips.

Hair: Eira was blessed with her father’s vibrant red hair but with her mother’s texture, causing what would have been coarse and tightly curled to become silken and thick drawing out the curls so that only the ends would go into ringlets. She’s grown her hair long, enjoying the way that it feels as it bounces against the small of her back when she walks but it’s rare she leaves it straight down, finding that it could very easily be used as a restraint on her, so she usually keeps it up or as a braid.

Tattoos: Eira has a single tattoo at the moment, a feather on her right shoulder that bursts into crows. She knew it was a popular tat, and she usually tried to stay away from fads but there was something about the image that called to her. Gaelin had always loved the Native American culture and for many reasons the tattoo had come to represent her brother, taking flight from this world, changing from the old into something new.

Piercings: Other than her ears, Eira has two other piercings, a Monroe right above her lip and then one at her belly button that she hardly uses except for on certain occasions.
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Character background story
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Eira was born into a violent household where drugs and sex clashed violently with uptight, conservative religious views. Nothing was ever peaceful in the MacKenna home, her father spending all day and night at the local pub, running around on her mother only to come home and lay his hands on her, calling her a cold heartless bitch. She wasn’t even sure how they could have had Gaelin, but if there was one thing her mother believed it, it was doing her duty for husband and home. While her father never once laid an angry hand on Eira or Gaelin, her mother would, and all in the name of her god. The first time her mother ever caught a boy staring at her, she’d sent her to a scalding bath and scrubbed at her skin until it was raw and bleeding calling her a whore, she’d been nine. She couldn’t count how many scalding baths and belt beatings she’d received from her mother, but she did everything she could to take the attention away from Gaelin, even going so far as to act out dramatically to draw her mother’s fury.

Eira adored her father, despite his failings and whenever she was able she’d sneak her and Gaelin out of the house and take him down to the pub to sit on her father’s lap and listen to all the old fishing tales that would always be going. Sometimes she heard the same story two times a day and each time it would be just a little different. She’d learned to dance from the bartender Garrick, who would put her on his feet and twirl her about the floor to the sounds of violins, drums and flutes, it was the one place where she could let loose and actually laugh. Her father was proud of his children, always boasting about them to anyone who would listen. He never showed them how to play ball, never took them anywhere special or taught them how to fish like some of the other kids but those small little touches, the little winks he’d give or the playful cuffs on their heads was all the attention and proof they needed of his love.

His death, when it came when she was eighteen took Gaelin and Eira by complete surprise. Her mother had cackled over the irony that he would be walking on his way from the pub drunk only to be hit by a drunk driver. Eira had felt nothing but a shattering emptiness and without any restraint she had finally released years of anger and pain on her mother, taking the belt that had been the very representation of evil throughout her childhood and had laid into the woman over and over until Gaelin had finally pulled her off. They ran that night, Eira refusing to leave her little brother behind with that coldhearted bitch and so they moved to the apartment above the pub and she started working down below at night while going to school during the day.

Perhaps she’d taken on too much, trying to cover everything while stretching herself to thin, but after a few months Eira started to notice a change in her brother. He became quiet, secretive and when pushed for answers he would lash out and tell her to mind her business. It didn’t take a stretch to realize that he was on something but she never could figure out what or where he was getting it from. One night she came home and he was simply gone with a note saying he’d went to America with a friend and he was going to get some work on a fishing boat. At first, though she’d been worried, she was almost relieved that he seemed to at least have an idea of what he wanted to so she didn’t try and guilt him back. Instead she enjoyed her time with a little less responsibility and would skype with her brother when the chance came, enjoying their time but soon she began to grow increasingly concerned as their talks grew darker and her brother began to take on a more paranoid act around her, like he was constantly looking over his shoulder. She knew something was wrong but Gaelin would never confide, the closest she’d ever got to a hint of what was going on was when she finally pressed and kept pushing until he snapped and said if he told it would get them both killed.

Eira wanted him to come home but he refused and then, after a few more months, he never came back online. She called the number of his friends he’d given her but never got a return call and soon the number was turned off completely. Fearing that the worse had happened she’d quit the pub, packed her belongings and drew out all the money in her account to book a flight to America and to the town he’d last been known to live.
She was met with no help from the police and when she kept pressing she was quick to realize that in the town, the police were just as likely to strike back as the criminals were. She learned to keep her head down and to change her normal behavior to lessen her appeal to the creeps on the streets, always wearing bulky clothing and keeping her head down until she found somewhere she could feel a little comfortable. She found herself working in dives to make ends meet while she tried to find out where her brother was and what had happened on her own, dwindling her money until she was afraid of what would happen if she ran out.

Then she got the phone call, her brother’s body was found washed up on the shore, all evidence of who had murdered him gone with the sea. They placed his remains in a little plot in a rundown cemetery and closed the door to the hope she’d harbored at finding him alive. Devastated she left the town; taking what little money she had left and hit the road, working one bar then another until she found her way south to Hathian. She’s hardened, from her experiences, a pain in her heart that would never ease and a chip on her shoulder the size of Montana. She wants to go home, back to Ireland, and that’s what she tells everyone when they ask her about her plans, but in truth Eira knew she’d never see the green hills of home again, she wasn’t leaving, not until she found out who killed her brother, and return the favor.