What truly defines us?  Is it the generations that come before?  Ominous shades of sadistic genius or portents of fateful glimpses?  Do we ground ourselves in reason and logic, studying the known, or do we trust in premonitions of intuition?

B  e  l  o  v  e  d  daughter of Scholar and Fate.  A bridge of contrasts.  Raised amidst dusty tomes in an venerable estate teeming with veiled secrets. Wit and cleverness prized.  The power of knowledge craved.  The careful and deliberate crafting of a brilliant mind.  The nurturing of perfection by a devoted father.   

The nurturing of fiesty independence be a devoted mother.  Ahns of logic and methodical study brightened by wonderous visits.  Gentle arms and whimsical tea parties and lessons of a different sort.  One does not have to be a seer to look within to listen to the whispers of the heart.  One can be both loving and formidable. 

Relentlessly loved.  A spoiled child Tatrix cosseted in ancient luxury, taught the invaluable tenents of loyalty and compassion.  Gifted with the certain confidence that allows curiosity to flourish.

Descended from Torvaldsand conquerors and Arian oracles

Facade of austere gentility 

Bloodlines of sadistic madness

Genealogy of gnarled branches and crumbled leaves