ZANABIA: A LIVING TAPESTRY OF CHARACTERS

Zanabia is not a place that can be understood by maps or measurements. It is best understood through its people—beings who are neither animals nor humans, but something gentler, wiser, and more curious than either. Zanabians are blended forms, upright and clothed, expressive and articulate, living within systems that favor kindness over control and humor over harshness. Each character in Zanabia carries not only a name or a role, but a way of being, and together they form a society that feels quietly magical without ever trying too hard to impress. At the emotional center of Zanabia stands Blenchy, the corgi-head Zanabian whose presence is instantly recognizable. Blenchy carries himself with a calm swagger, sharp in posture and expression, dressed neatly and always alert. He is not loud, nor does he dominate conversations, but his silence often speaks louder than others’ speeches. Blenchy appears across Zanabia in many roles—caretaker, referee, observer—but he never seeks authority. Instead, authority seems to settle around him naturally. Children trust him, elders respect him, and even the most dramatic characters adjust their tone slightly when he is nearby. The Woolybay family represents the domestic soul of Zanabia, and all Woolybays are sheep-head Zanabians. Papa Woolybay, the gentle patriarch, carries the marks of a recent injury with quiet dignity. Once confined to a wheelchair after fracturing his leg, he is now mobile again, supported by a single hand crutch, a symbol of recovery rather than weakness. He is often teased affectionately, especially after his unexpected rockstar-like appearance at Comic Con, but the teasing comes from love. Papa Woolybay’s warmth anchors his family, and his presence reminds Zanabians that healing is a shared process. Mamma Woolybay is the unshakable heart of the household. Also a sheep-head Zanabian, she moves through her home with calm confidence, often found cooking meals that bring people together without ceremony. Her table has seen pasta with vegetables, lentil soup, and simple comfort foods for the children, but more importantly, it has seen conversations, reconciliations, and laughter. When visitors arrive unexpectedly, including the famously moustached Mushbear family, Mamma Woolybay welcomes them with a composed smile, understanding that hospitality is a form of strength. The Woolybay children, small sheep-head Zanabians full of giggles and restless curiosity, represent the future of Zanabia. They are playful but never careless, sheltered but never silenced. Their presence across family dinners, festivals, and everyday scenes reinforces a recurring Zanabian truth: continuity matters, and joy does not need to be earned. Gruff, the goat-head Zanabian, brings contrast into this gentle world. He is outspoken, assertive, and often the first to question decisions that others accept quietly. Gruff is not disruptive for the sake of it; his role is to ensure Zanabia does not drift into complacency. In public spaces and group discussions, his voice sharpens the air just enough to keep it honest. Zanabia values him because dissent, when rooted in care, strengthens community rather than fractures it. The Mushbear family, with their bear heads and long, unmistakable moustaches, appear occasionally as visitors rather than residents. They arrive bearing gifts, stories, and an old-world politeness that feels slightly theatrical but deeply sincere. Their visits to the Woolybays, especially during Papa Woolybay’s recovery, are remembered fondly as moments of shared warmth rather than spectacle. Ms Snailhead is impossible to overlook. A snail-head Zanabian with an unapologetic flair for self-expression, she crowned herself Miss Zanabia long before anyone thought to object. At Comic Con she appeared in a pink latex suit and crown, commanding attention effortlessly. Later, she embraced a more elegant presence, appearing in a saree that carried grace without dimming her confidence. Ms Snailhead embodies Zanabia’s tolerance for self-mythology, provided it harms no one and brings color into shared spaces. Zanabia’s civic and commercial systems are personified through figures like Mr Swanse, the dragonfly-head visionary who owns the Zanabian hypermarket. Dressed impeccably and moving with measured clarity, Mr Swanse designed a marketplace where items respond to genuine need rather than impulse. The peacock-head staff glide through the aisles with aesthetic precision, while unicorn-head security personnel, dressed in grey suits and carrying flowers instead of weapons, ensure safety through calm presence alone. Here, protection is gentle and authority is never loud. Law and order in Zanabia take a similarly restrained form through the doberman-head police. Tall, composed, and dressed in uniform with long ceremonial capes, they arrive on motorcycles during large events not to intimidate but to reassure. Their role is visibility, not force, and their careful management of crowds—especially during moments like the arrival of the great Banyan Tree at Comic Con—reflects Zanabia’s preference for dignity over dominance. Among the citizens, porcupine-head Zanabians move quietly through cafés and crowds, reserved yet observant, their humor sharp but never cruel. Horse-head Zanabians bring energy and motion to festivals and public life, while mammoth-head elders stand as living memory, appearing during storytelling gatherings and major events, their slow movements and deep presence reminding everyone that time is not something to outrun. Pig-head Zanabians, grounded and practical, often populate markets and logistical spaces, bringing pragmatic wisdom and understated humor. The half-lioness, half-tigress Zanabian—always portrayed as a composed female presence—embodies controlled power. Seen in social spaces like cafés and public gatherings, she radiates strength without aggression, elegance without fragility. Her presence subtly recalibrates the energy of any scene, reminding Zanabians that power, when disciplined, does not need to roar. Humans exist in Zanabia as visitors only. They arrive curious, respectful, sometimes awed, sometimes quietly amused. Among them are the woman who once paused to take a selfie, a few other women, and some men who appear briefly in public scenes. Humans never define Zanabia; they witness it. Their role is to observe, to carry stories back to the outside world, and to leave unchanged but gently altered. The group photograph recently shared captures a moment in Zanabia where several of these characters happened to be present together. It is not a census, nor a definitive portrait of the entire world, but simply one gathering among many. Several familiar Zanabians are visible, others are not, and many more exist beyond the frame. Zanabia, after all, is larger than any single image, and its story continues to unfold well beyond what is shown at any one time.