A newcomer to O'ahu, Kiraven has been spotted a couple of times at Fairytales. Her sluagh nature keeps her in the dark corners of the bar, watching the other patrons from beneath her long bangs. Menhiron has shown particular curiosity and discomfort at her presence. He theorizes she is a spy for Queen Aeron.
On the contrary, Kiraven came to Hawai`i seeking asylum from the insanity of San Francisco. She followed Sammie here, although she came several years later. She knew the pooka when he lived in San Diego, and although his exuberance bothered her, he was kind to her.
She grew up a misunderstood child. Her mother died when she was still a toddler and her father sexually, physically, and emotionally abused her. He never let her go anywhere without him. He sequestered her in her room without television or books. For Kiraven's budding genius, it was a fate worse than death. When she withdrew into herself, everyone blamed her, saying she needed psychiatric help.
She discovered her faerie nature when she hit puberty. Her menstrual cycle kicked in and she remembered who she was, all in the same instant. The experience traumatized her. She had no one to guide her; no one to explain things to her. And then her father came breathing down her neck again. Kiraven flipped. She packed a small bag and ran away.
The youthful sluagh believed she was going mad. Completely isolated from other Kithain, she blamed her period for the strange changes coming over her. She thought she was dying. In a daze, she roamed the streets of San Diego, sleeping in dumpsters at night and sitting in the park during the day. By the end of the week, she had slipped back into the Mists. She became a street person, eating food out of restaurant dumpsters and hiding from the cops. Exactly 28 days later, her cycle came again and her Glamour rose, returning her memory. This convinced her that the two were connected and that she was being punished for the things her father had done to her. She found a church and knelt to pray for guidance and relief from her terrible curse.
She left the church, walking slowly down the front steps, her long brown hair hanging in her eyes. She didn't see the car coming as she stepped into the street. Fortunately, Sammie had seen it. He grabbed her and pulled her to of the way. He took Kiraven to his place where he fed her and let her sleep in comfort. While they felt extremely uneasy in each other's presence and talked little, Sammie knew instinctively what he had to do. He called on a sluagh acquaintance in San Francisco who came immediately to take Kiraven under her wing.
Kiraven spent the next couple of years devouring every book she could get her hands on. It didn't matter what the book was about, she read it like a starving child consuming her first meal.
She knows that if it weren't for Sammie, she wold be dead, even if the car hadn't hit her. She saw Sammie again only once, purely by accident. He was seated with a strange-looking, white-haired grump. She couldn't gather the nerve to speak to him, but she listened. They were going to Hawai`i. She never forgot.
Above all else, Kiraven despises conflict of any kind. Raised voices send her running, and any physical violence leaves its mark on her emotions for weeks. When the situation in San Francisco began to escalate and factions began to shout each other down, she knew she had to leave. One place came to mind: Hawai`i.
In her mortal seeming, Kiraven's dirty t-shirts and torn, stained jeans hang on her thin figure. Her brackish hair, ragged and dirty, sticks out unevenly in tangled, half-formed dreadlocks. It droops over her forehead and into her brown eyes, hiding half her face from onlookers. Her face shows Italian heritage with its olive skin and chiseled features. Her nose dominates her face, overshadowing her tight mouth and pointed chin. Her left eye has a red blood spot in it; a legacy of her father's abuse.
In fae mien, she looks like the walking dead. She wears a parody of a strapless prom dress; its full skirt hanging in shreds around her. A line of red sequins once decorated the hem. Those that are still there seem at first glance like a bloody stain around the bottom of the dress. Under Glamour, he features lose some of their harshness and she becomes almost attractive. Even her hair loses its tangles, hanging straight down over her face and shoulders.
Life has dealt Kiraven a raw deal and she knows it. She is and always has been completely alone in this world. Those who have helped her did so out of pity rather than true caring and she doesn't need anyone's pity. She can make it on her own. She feels like she's proven that. Her best companions are the books she reads and the stories she hears from other fae. All she wants out of people is to be left alone. She doesn't need or want to communicate with anyone. She'd rather sit back and watch, living life vicariously through others. It's safer that way.