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Status: Nobody in particular.
Hair: Poofy and dull blonde
Eyes: Only actually pretty part of her, blue-grey with yellow bits.
Figure: Dumpy. Could be called muscular.
Other: Self-inflicted scars across shoulders (circular, look a bit like blobby polka dots). Her face is broad and dull-looking, and between this and the build of her body; she despises looking in mirrors, as they remind her of her perceived ugliness. This is another reason she took to self-harm.
Clothing: Varies from day to day. Her favorite type of clothing is jackets, and has a wide collection. She take great pride in wearing versatile clothing, usually uniform in color, in case she has to go one place, then can’t.
Family: Mother (Tish, Mom, Momlady), still living
Father (Charles, Papa, Ada), still living
Sister (Dani, Sherlock), still living
Personality: Neth has tensile strength. That's the only way to describe it. She's timid, yes, but if she really, really wants something, you'll have to tie her down to keep him from it. Not that you'd guess it. If she's not adamant on something, then Neth is a quiet, obsequious kid. Often she will do other people's chores so they will have more free time. When she is nervous or upset, she likes to hide in small inclosed areas (behind furniture, in closets, that sort of thing.) You can always tell what Neth is thinking-she gets a big goofy grin and turns red whenever she lies or has a secret.
she likes to read in her free time, and is not a big fan of sports. This might be a problem as time goes on.
Neth loves everybody, and if you're looking upset, why, a hug is just what you need! she is not actively amorous, though if you have two chromosomes to rub together, she probably has had a crush on you, but was too shy to say anything. Oh, yes-Neth always has little gifts for people. If she sees you like, say, sewing, well the next day she'll find a new spool of thread for you and a needle too!
Neth is also a crier. Not just soft little sniffling, no-it sounds like something's being ripped apart. She's tried to stop doing it so often, but she can't quite do so.
- Fairly intelligent
-Not very strong
Dislikes: Being teased
Being told off
Looking in the mirror
Dream: Thinking life might get better
History: What’s there to tell, mate? She was born, wasn’t she? Her parents were horticulturalists, and she grew up with a natural affinity for plants…in paper form, that is. She read a lot as a kid, probably why she has those ridiculous glasses she got when she was eleven years old. She’s a dreamer- wanted to be a writer, until it turned out she can’t write anything except Mary-Sue fan fiction and the occasional fantasy. Even her drawings are off-kilter, filled mostly with dragons and talking fish-men.
Her parents pulled her out of school because she was ‘different’- read, awkward, peculiar, and unsociable- and so she spent the next nine years homeschooled; or all intents and purposes, a recluse, friendless save for her precious books. Once her parents decided to put her back in public school, it went from bad to worse fairly quickly. She was bright, sure, and was an utter teacher’s pet, doing well on paper, but socially she was a nightmare.
Half the time, Neth talked in either academic or fantastical languages, and the other half she acted so afraid of her classmates (save for occasional spurts of rage) that it was uncomfortable to be with her. She became obsessed with cleanliness, and this (as well as more than a little white guilt) led to her beginning to systematically ‘clean’ her flesh, scratching it off in patches with her nails. This was found to be even more disgusting by her peers, and so she has retreated to her books once more, feeling as though perhaps it is true, it’s not worth the fight she thought she gave it.
HOW DID YOU FIND US?: Googled “dr who rp”. You guys were the first that came up.
Neth pursed her lips, checking for second shadows every few seconds around her feet. Darkness, she remembered reading once, was the complete absence of light. And nothing could be more dark than the few meters between her and the Doctor. She could wait out the night, to be sure, but without the Doctor she’d most likely die first. She sat, cross-legged as usual, and began to rummage through her backpack.
Rubber ducky. Lovely and sweet-smelling, but unfortunately useless. The chicken leg and carrot, she thought, might make a nice meal if they got out alive. The other three items, however, she knew were precious…and formulated an idea, slowly but surely, inside her mind. She looked over at the Doctor, whispered “I’m sorry”, and extended the Sonic. It whirred softly, a comforting sound for such a dark, literally and figuratively, situation. Its life-form-detection registered trillions of beings in front of her, waiting for her to step into the blackness for their consumption.
Nothing for it, then. She began to tear the raincoat apart, then stopped. Supposing she ran out of fabric strips halfway through? That wouldn’t do - more than that, she’d die in milliseconds.
She’d start at the sleeve, then. Neth tried to light one match, cursed as it broke under shaking fingers, lit another against the dark blue material. It sputtered into flame, growing quickly. She’d have to move fast.
“ALL RIGHT, YOU Behave! SONS OF HIVE Rory, go put Hitler in the cupboard.!” she yelled, trying to sound threatening or at least suicidally brave. “SCRAM! YOU HEARD ME RIGHT, SCRAM!” She began to run, whirling the flaming raincoat over her head like a berserk. Maybe there were two shadows around her feet and maybe there weren’t, but the dark was gone from a bright puddle around her, burned away by fire. No tentative nibbles, not yet.
There was less than a meter now, between her and the safety of the streetlamp. The fabric was beginning to burn her hand, but she dared not let go, imagining a combination of fates between self-immolation and being eaten alive. She gathered her legs under her like a jumper, leapt-
And landed, singed but otherwise unhurt, under the streetlamp.