Atia brings a warm and vibrant energy to Milvara’s atelier, as much a fixture of the place as the fabric bolts and embroidery hoops. In her early twenties, she’s full of quick wit and quicker hands—adept at threading needles, charming nervous clients, and fetching exactly the right swatch from an avalanche of options. Her figure is full and curvaceous, with a generous bosom she wears with unapologetic pride, often accentuated by bodices that mix practicality with just a hint of daring flair.

Her dark curls are usually pulled into a high ponytail, bouncing as she weaves through the shop, arms cradling pins, ledgers, and sometimes a sneaky sweet from the bakery next door. Atia’s laugh bubbles easily, but she’s no mere ornament—she’s the one who smooths over a noble’s nerves when a gown doesn’t fit, who remembers every returning client’s preferences, and who isn’t afraid to speak blunt truth when a hemline needs to rise or fall.

She calls Milvara “boss” with affectionate teasing and has a habit of humming folk tunes while she works. Some say she’s training to take over the shop one day. Judging by her eye for detail and steel-trap memory for measurements, no one doubts she could.