Swahili is the result of a one night affair between her father and a desert dancer from a passing caravan. The femme fatale had dazzled her father with coy dance moves, flirty personality, and a bewitching beauty that wasn't seen around these parts.
Luckily, Swahili inherited much of that beauty; had she not, her survival in her father's household would have been much more dire. Swa is a little lady, having to stretch a little bit to solidly hit the fifteen point two hand range. She's a little thicker than some might expect, if they saw her brother, or her father; but that comes heavily from the Paso and Andalusian lines her mother dominantly held, making her body fuller, with pronounced hips. Her legs are long enough to draw the eye, but they're sturdy, with slightly larger than average hooves for traditional desert lands, making travel through sand particularly easy.
She has vibrant green eyes that are fringed by long, but pale lashes, and golden markings that bring the attention to her eyes. Her primary coat color is a notable palomino, soft as the sands of the desert, but dark brown markings break it up, making her as refreshing as the desert rose. She has white patching up her back, as well as on her legs, and a unique white marking upon her face. Dark, near black striping is visible over her hind quarters. Her tail is a dark, rich brown, while her mane is split between white and pale cream. Streaks of gold are visible, marking her as a member of her family.
Despite being from a noble house, Swahili is rare, as this desert flower does not hold any trinkets to call her own, her father believing the are wasted on a half-blood. Even in events, she often receives cast offs and left overs to wear, rather than the new jewelry, accessories and clothing commonly seen upon her siblings. In a round-about way, it brings more distinction to Swahili's pure beauty, because it's not obscured by shiny trinkets.
It is in large part, thanks to Abaddon; that Swahili was able to become the delicate flower she is today. She is a sweet girl, with a large heart, and a strong belief that everyone should be loved and protected. She's especially protective of those she calls friends and family, and it's not uncommon to see her standing in solidarity with them - particularly if she feels safe enough in the situation to do so. (If Abaddon is near by, she is noticeably more brave and open with expressing herself.
However, Swahili is also innocent and naive. She's very rarely allowed around others - usually limited to just the parties her father hosts, or their family is expect to go to. And as such, she is not very open and aware of the world around her. She's likely to miss obvious clues, red flags, or warning bells in conversations. However, as she has spent all her life having to watch her own back from her father's disgust, half-siblings scoffing, and other cruel pranks, she is not easily fooled, and is rarely able to be manipulated or molded herself. This has also aided in helping her be true of who she is.
She is extremely comfortable in her own skin, not bothering with the fact she is often not dressed as a noble expects, or when she is given trinkets, they are off brand, or old and loaners despite their wear and age. She treasures each gift that she does get in response, often treating them as precious, and kept safe from cruel eyes and sneaky hooves who might try to rob her of the few nice things she has been allowed to have. She is, however; aware of how pretty she is, how exotic and unusual. Despite this, she doesn't use it to her advantage, primarily because she's aware her beauty comes at a cost, especially as her father has begun to search out marriage prospects to use her as a political pawn in the nobility world.
Despite this all, Swa is a very honest individual, as well as very forgiving, with a desire to assist others, even at the potential of losing herself in the process. It's not uncommon to see her giving her last coin (even if it's rare for her to get them) to someone in need. Or breaking bread with a starving child. She's the sort who would take the shawl from her back to give to a cold, and elderly mare, and face her father's wrath for losing it later on. Ultimately, she has a large heart that just wants to see those around her as happy.
And it all started one fateful night. Her mother was part of a caravan, passing through and putting on shows for wealthy individuals, hoping to earn some coin. Her mother had earned more than a little bit of coin, as a nobleman whisked her away for a night of fun, and feeling fancy. But it was only a night, her mother disappearing to the next town, never to be seen or thought of again . . . or so one would have thought.
The first few months of Swahili's life were filled with joy, laughter, fun and dancing. She was treasured in the caravan, wearing scarves of all colors, jewelry that gleamed as she was taught basic dance moves around the bonfires. She grew up with cuddles from all members of the caravan - until it came time for her to be weaned.
Swahili ended up on her father's doorstop at the age of six months, a simple note left with the filly, introducing her as the newest daughter of house Atraer, naming her Swahili, and asking that she be raised well. The little filly was terrified as her large father seemed ready to cast her aside, a tiny foal left behind by her momma with out so much as a fair well. Her luck came when her older brother stepped forward, telling their father of how bad it would look to cast her out.
She was brought into the manor, but soon it became a life of living behind closed doors, a life of hiding. The little filly abandoned to her own dark and cold rooms in a forgotten section of the manor. It was only Abaddon who gave her any care, attention or love, and in return, Swahili returned it ten fold. She never failed to treasure Abaddon who ultimately was more like her father than her actual father ever was.
As she grew into a young filly, her mane and tail growing out, she spent most of her days with her brother, his little shadow, quietly watching, observing and learning. Smiling brightly when he would glance her way, and always willing to shower him with adoration and love, perfectly happy to just be with him, even if he was doing boring stuff like reading and answering mail or studying.
But time would not be on her side, as she continued to grow, entering adulthood with a maturity that showed she'd inherited much of her mother's grace, and wild beauty. It was at this point that the young mare learned the cold hard truth, her father merely saw her as a pawn, beginning to search out potential marriage prospects, to see what he could get for her. Suddenly the few events she was allowed to go to, she was being introduced to wealth, older and vile stallions, and her dependency on her brother began to grow, using him as a shield, and praying that he helps ensure the future arranged marriage is not a bad one.
But she's also noticing her brother is beginning to spiral too. His smiles less common, his emotions more muted, and while she worries about her own future, she has began to worry about his as well. And there is a part of the young mare who truly worries what the future will bring as she continues to grow as a Novan noble woman.
Perhaps the only thing that Swahili owns, this soft, sheer khaki shawl was given to her by her eldest brother as a covering for when they would venture outside the home. It often is used to veil her face, curling around her neck, and over her back, like a long scarf. It is edged on one side with a two inch border of ivory silk, with thick gold thread crossing in an X formation over the edges. She has to hide it when she is not out and about - for fear her father will see it, and take it. On the furthest right end, in the white edging, the golden thread spells out her name artistically.