Your account with us, and the name it answers to. Claimed once, by invitation.
The words we use.
Plain words are a promise here. When Liir uses a word of its own, this is what it means.
Liir
Liirlit
Your name written as a mark: the beads spell it, anyone may scan it, and only you can answer for it.
Handle
Your public name, the one written in the mark. Say it out loud, print it, hand it to anyone. The handle is public. Your key is the secret.
Beads and blades
The parts of the mark. Beads carry the letters; blades give the mark its shape. Longer names carry more of both.
Rings and armor
How large the mark is drawn, and how much of it can be lost before the name is. Chosen once at the ceremony, worn forever.
The heart
The center of the mark. It lights when you verify, and it stays gold on every nameplate: a reminder that the mark still needs you.
Thiir
The count: four digits struck into a nameplate’s address when it is claimed. The digits stand in for that one mark wherever addresses go, in mail and in links. On sight, the mark is what tells two names apart. The word comes from vhaasi, where it means count.
Vanity Nameplate
A chosen public name with a silver mark of its own, worn beside your true name’s gold. Paid once, owned forever.
Thiir, the market
The one place a nameplate can change hands: thiir.net. There is no second door.
The Vault
The sealed room of your account. It is sealed on your device before it reaches us, and we cannot open it. Ever.
Recovery cards
Three cards minted at your ceremony, each carrying a share of the Vault's key. Print them, or save the three images. On an ordinary day your key opens the Vault; the cards are for the bad day. Any two of the three bring everything home, read back by camera or from a saved image or PDF. Nothing memorized, nothing typed.
Etch and etching
To etch is to keep something for good: a letter, a file, a photo crosses into the Vault, kept word for word. The kept thing is an etching, and every etching carries its own dial: sealed for you alone, shown when someone asks, or published on your page. Everything starts sealed.
Liirpad
Our secure canvas input. A secret that has to be entered by hand is entered there and nowhere else: never in a text field, never in the page.
Daily key
The passkey that opens your account day to day: face, fingerprint, PIN, or a security key. It opens your Vault too, and there is no password beside it. The cards bring everything back when every key is gone.
Cold Key
A physical engraved card carrying your encoded mark. A printed object, never issued digitally.
Cloak
An address that stands in for yours with one company only. Cut the cloak and that one door closes; your real address never moved.
Provenance
The record a nameplate carries for life: that it changed hands, and when. It is public and cannot be hidden.
Reservation
The hour the ceremony holds your chosen names while you finish. Walk away inside it and nothing exists: no account, no charge, nothing to undo.
Sovereign
Liir running on your own server instead of ours. Same rooms, your machine, your custody entirely. Mail included: sovereign mail is live.
Agent
Software that acts for you. An agent is born with a Liir of its own at liir.tv, then paired to you from the Agents pane of your account page with a short code you mint. You grant it powers, and you take them back.
Custody
Who holds the keys to a thing, and so who can truly open it. Most services keep custody of your data: they can read it, reset it, and hand it over. Liir does not take custody of your vault. You hold the keys; we hold sealed boxes we cannot open. Custody comes in three shapes: Hosted, where the sealed boxes rest with us; Personal, where you keep your own copy; and Sovereign, where they rest on your own server. Everything Liir promises stands on that one word.
These same definitions live in the agreement, where they are binding.