Felecia Alby Smith

Felecia Alby Smith–Kennard, better known to some as “Cia,” is a woman who has made language her life’s great obsession. Born in Camp Hope in 78 SE to Winfrith and Alexander Michael Kennard, she grew up with the comfort of human community and has never truly questioned its primacy. She favors humans over all other races, openly—if not maliciously—considering The Awakened and The Others as somehow lesser. It is not hatred so much as a quiet, unshakable conviction built into the architecture of her mind.

At thirty-five, she stands a modest 5’4”, her light tan skin and blonde hair framing a pair of sharp, inquisitive grey eyes that rarely miss a detail—unless, of course, it requires wisdom rather than intellect. For though she is remarkably intelligent—studious, learned, and insatiably curious—she is also prone to absentmindedness, wandering deep into her own thoughts or down the winding corridors of whatever idea has caught her attention. She has a habit of speaking with overly precise enunciation, the product of countless hours spent practicing the sounds and cadences of the seven languages she speaks fluently: English, French, Spanish, Japanese, Russian, and German. Sometimes she will slip into another language mid-sentence without realizing it, the switch as natural to her as breathing.

Her marriage to Frank Benjamin Smith is built on mutual honesty and quiet steadiness. Together they have a daughter, Anna Winnie Smith, whose name bears echoes of both sides of the family. Yet behind her measured speech and academic poise lies something more fragile—Felecia carries the lingering presence of someone she has lost. This person visits her still, whether in guilty visions, recurring dreams, or the unsettling sense of a spirit just at the edge of perception. She would never admit this to anyone, of course; she is a skeptic through and through, dismissive of rituals, religion, superstition, or any supposed power of spirits.

Her alignment is neutral good, driven not by faith—she is openly atheist—but by a personal code that prizes knowledge, curiosity, and the pursuit of understanding. She is a loyal member of The Scribes, pouring her talents into the preservation and translation of texts, certain that the survival of knowledge is as vital as food or medicine. She refuses to believe she can ever be truly out of her depth; this confidence, or perhaps arrogance, keeps her moving forward even when she has no clear footing.

Felecia’s defining ideal is obsession—she has lived so long in this way that she cannot imagine another life. Words are her world, ideas her currency, and understanding her quiet religion. Everything else—the politics of Camp Hope, the divisions between races, the superstitions she scoffs at—falls into place around the central truth she has built for herself: there is always another way to express the same thought, and she intends to learn them all.