Character: Zia
Series: Charles de Lint's Newford novels
Character Age: As old as the world, at least -- but Zia appears about as a teenage punkette, depending on who's looking.
Canon: Charles de Lint is an 'urban fantasy' writer, plopping a mix of European and Native American myths and mythological figures into a good old North American city -- Newford. Newford is a city with it's buskers, artists, professors, girls who walked out of websites, gremlins, los lobos, and of course a whole host of 'Corbae', which is easiest to think of as 'bird people'. Zia is a crow girl, and one of the oldest of them all -- not that you'd know that. She and her other half, Maida, live in a tree, eat sugar and call it tea, are just general light hearted and all around silly. They know so much that they find it easier to just forget it all and live in the present rather than remember the past.

Like crows the girls are easily distracted by sweets and sparklies and often seem to be pretty carefree and childlike. They often have a weird speech pattern and play off of each other when they talk. Co-dependent much? However when it calls for it they can also turn at least somewhat serious. They have a talent for 'fixing things' with spit or blood, so small hurts and large hurts can be fixed up alright. They also carry switchblades in their sleeves. De Lint quotes one of Ani D's songs, and it fits the crow girls rather well:

it's a long long road
it's a big big world
we are wise wise women
we are giggling girls
we both carry a smile
to show when we're pleased
we both carry a switchblade
in our sleeves


Sample Post:

Hellooo~ hihihi~ Hello.

Maida will be oh so veryvery extrodinarily jealous of what I've found. It sparkles and shines and changes. And I found it first. The person who found it the firstest was me! A trisket a trasket, I found it in my basket~ like that, only, without the basket and the trasket. And without the trisket. But I found it, this Campfuciliciously Dead~.

Let's play a game, maybe it will make you smile. You know, a game, a game, like the one where you sit down and duck and duck and then goose and run? Okay! Duck, duck, dead, deader, deadest. You're the deadest goose not-alive! ... Oh, you're supposed to get up and chase! And then if you catch me I have to be the goose, but I'm going to be the alive goose because I'm not dead. Maida would like to play too, but she's so not h~e~r~e~.

Ooooh~ this tree here, see? I live in a tree, but it isn't like this one. This one is a safe sex tree. Is being safe the same upside down as it is right side up? Or is it more dizzier? Or is it efas? That's backwards through the mirror.

You all must be backwards~ That would explain why you are dead and moving instead of alive and moving. Does this mean that when you are alive you sit so veryveryvery still and pretend to be underground? I can hold my breath for~~ever.

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72.3