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.
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 are the written representation of that one Liirlit: they appear wherever addresses do, in mail and links, while the mark itself is what tells two names apart on sight. The word is borrowed 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.
Vault words
Six words chance chose, shown once and written on paper. They are the key to the Vault: the everything-key.
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. Vault words appear there and are 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. The paper unlocks the vault; this unlocks your account.
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
The estate running on your own hardware instead of ours. Same rooms, your machine, your custody entirely.
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. The only things ever in our custody are the ciphertext itself and the lights on your public page. Everything Liir promises stands on that one word.
These same definitions live in the agreement, where they are binding.