Description:   The Dilettante sits in silence.

A mask of purest white sits on their face, black streaks cutting down its frozen lips like cuts from a razor.  An artist has taken their finest brush and flicked black ink towards the brows, leaving narrow tails of black against the pristine white.  Beneath, their skin appears no less ink stained, touched by the same brush.   Drawing closer, one sees that it is more than that.  The complex intricacies of lines and curls just barely perceivable, as if someone had taken needle and ink to their skin night after night for an endless eternity.  A hundred million words written on on top of the other in an unknown hand, all meaning lost in the sheer multitude of language.   Their eyes are black and wide.  Their hair is shorn short, black as well, though with threads of scarlet running though it.

Something is wrong with their throat, though the mask obscures most of it.  The proportions aren't right, too thin, but it is nearly impossible to describe exactly how.

They are small, maybe only 5'1", and slight enough that they look like they wouldn't even pass 130 pounds sopping wet.  Their form is feminine, and they respond to both female and neutral pronouns.  They wear a fine jacket of brilliant crimson, high collared and open at the chest.  Its inner lining is midnight blue, well stiched and well cared for.  A multitude of silver thread forms an intricate pattern along the back, some arcane symbol imposed over the vague outlines of a fox, twisting and barely discernible despite the fine make.  Beneath it, they wear no shirt or blouse.  Their torso is instead wrapped in grey bandages stained black.  It is as if the ink which mars the skin about their face had bled down into the bandages and dried, never to be changed.  Tonight they wear an underbust corset under this, grey to match the long slacks she wears.  More often than not, the bandages are the only thing they use to cover their chest.

Persona:  Rumors and gossip swirl about all of the Vislae, and the Dilettante is no more immune to their whispers than any other.  Such things cannot be helped when they make no secret of the fact that they are a member of the Xan Weir, and even the most cursory search into their background will reveal this truth.  Their reasons for joining are of course their own, and she so far they appear to be tolerated by the seemingly never-ending parade of local Garents.

Despite this, their public aspirations seem to largely be limited to the selling of Ephemera from their gallery, located on the Eastern edge of the public square centered around the Gateway to the Hollows.  Named the Gallery of Things Lost and Found, the small venue nevertheless does a robust trade in a varied assortment of these lesser magics.

They are known to be mute, communicating only with the sign language that all Vislae know, though they appear to be adept at a form of the sign that even those who are not Vislae can understand.  Even this is muddled, as numerous locals to Fartown can report having seen the Dilettante giving impassioned and fiery speeches on a variety of philosophical subjects within the square itself.  These conflicting reports have led to the suspicion that they are perhaps faking their muteness, which would explain how they are able to communicate clearly with those who would not understand the hidden language of signs that all Vislae seem to know.