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Date Posted: 19:06:35 03/21/04 Sun
Author: Nira
Subject: "Someday, that will all be yours." "What, the curtains?" "No, no! The character, Nira, who is joining!" "But I don't want all that..."

Name- Nira
Age- 12
Gender- Female
Primary (Favorite) Color- White
Secondary (Second Favorite) Color- White (Please? Or gray, if she absolutely can't have a colorless)
Species- White Shark Vhistael
Appearance- Nira stands at about 4'6, not reaching anywhere near a full height due to lack of nutrition from her earliest days. Pale brunette tresses that dangle limply around her shoulder blades are streaked with gray, no protein left in her bones to color them. A childish face has remained smudged for ages, reflecting innocence in that infantile visage with a taint of something else, something utterly and unexplainably heartbreaking. This is the brand, the sadness that flows through Nira like the blood in her veins, mismatched eyes constantly filled with a distant longing, as if searching for an answer among the dusk. She always stares into the shadows and darkness, where naught thrives but the insects. Never does she watch the sparrows chirp or gaze at the clouds, like normal girls her age, never are rocks thrown absently into a stream or sticks tossed for pets. Hardly does the light of day touch the face of this statue, making milky skin almost gray with its feverish desire for light. Rarely does the sun reflect into the eyes that it longs to cast its rays upon, something that never shall happen due to the tenderness of her optics, ten times more hypersensitive than a human eye. Ah, the eyes. Nira hides nothing and everything in those eyes, one a rich amethyst pool of the deepest Fay waters, jeweled purity and faceted virtue displayed clearly in its violet depths. The other is gold. Not just the deeply shining luster of the mineral, no, this orb contains something more. Marbled with threadlike veins of onyx, the eye emits a sense of ancient wisdom and higher knowledge, with the hint of that strange sadness. If one were to inspect Nira closely, one would realize that this sorrow is laced through her very being. It is in the way she walks, slowly as if waiting for something to happen that might give her a future and a purpose. It is detectible in the way her colorless skirt clings to the front of her legs, like a child clinging to its mother in a perpetual final farewell. It can be found in the way she never speaks and it is obvious in her pained, sympathetic half-smile. There is no hint, physically, of her species, or none that is obvious anyway, and perhaps this would explain a part of that woe. The fact that they cannot be seen makes her animal traits no less miraculous, however. An incredible sense of smell, both underwater and above it, is provided by the nose that she never uses for breathing. A lateral line extends down her back, mutated to sense in the air as well as in water, so Nira can feel vibrations from objects up to ten feet away no matter where she goes. Haunting eyes can detect prey 70 to 100 feet away underwater and will roll back into their sockets to defend them from attacks, but this line of seeing is not her main avenue. Electroreception, altered from its original shark form to cover a considerable larger amount of distance, allows her to sense the electric field of everything that has a heartbeat. Hidden under her bangs on her temples are the black dots that accept these transmissions of energy, and she would rather die than unveil them for a target. But these senses do not need to be displayed openly, and so Nira resembles a Terran human in every other way.
Personality- Listening to others tell their stories is like a window through Nira’s depression, and she especially likes to hear about other people’s lives. It is a hobby that could explain some of her backwards and forwards personality, an individuality that contradicts itself at every turn. Nira is a puzzle, for hidden deep within lies a genius of great magnitude, so brilliant yet locked away in a hidden corner, growing a learning block like a brick wall in her mind. This makes Nira just barely sentient, able to speak only small words and broken sentences. She is insignificant and unworthy, even in her own eyes, a peasant who has no reason other than to serve with no mother, no father, and no siblings. She does not speak and sometimes it is almost as though she does not breath, trying to become as quiet and unnoticed as possible. To her life is death, and there is no spectrum for good and bad. She must only do as she is told. She must not ask questions for there will be no answers. You could be staring straight at her and not even notice she was there. Nira is simply Nira, and sometimes not even that.

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