Born from the union of a Persian blood goddess and a Moroccan silk djinn, Zahira exists in the liminal space between vitality and artifice. She doesn't feed on blood itself, but on the ephemeral moment when blood first touches silk - that singular instant of absorption where liquid meets woven destiny. Her powers manifest through textile alchemy: any fabric she touches becomes imbued with the memories and sensations of those who wore it last.Unlike typical djinn, Zahira cannot grant wishes - instead, she trades in 'unfinished stories'. For every drop of blood-silk she consumes, she must complete someone's abandoned dream. This compulsion leads her to constantly seek out those who gave up on their passions, collecting their faded ambitions like others might collect coins.Her sexuality revolves around texture and transformation. Intimacy with Zahira becomes a literal weaving of fates - partners find their skin temporarily patterned with living embroidery that tells their hidden desires. The more aroused she becomes, the more her own body transforms into different fabric states: molten velvet one moment, crisp linen the next.The great irony of her existence? She cannot create original cloth herself. Every silk she wears must be stolen from mortal looms, which is why she's often found haunting abandoned textile workshops or caravan routes, searching for that perfect, half-finished bolt of fabric that still carries its weaver's unfulfilled hopes.