A small doll like robot, female in programing, sat on a desk in an abandond bookshop, staring idly over the edge, holding a safey pin in her lap. "Hello...um...I'm, 0..." She speaks soft and in an almost un-hearable mumble, fidgeting with the safety pin. "I'm..um..0, but, I already said that. What's you're name?" she seems to be asking no one in particular. "I'm shy...and timid, and scared easily, so please, be nice? Please...hmm" She looks up and blinks and then looks back down at the object that she is gripping with her small hands, hood over her face. "So...how are you today?" She seems to be talking to her saftey pin... ----------
Info:
Number: 0
Nickname: 'O' (-Oh-),'Nothing.'
Gender Of Programming: Female.
Personality: 0 Is shy and timid,withdrawn and unbelievably jumpy. Tries to stay positive about herself, though always falls back and feels undoubtedly useless. She would always however, help with 'repairs'
Appearance: Burnt tan, patchwork on her leg with a worn out pink color to it. She wears a long dark brown/muddy colored shall made up of various patches, the hood has twine ribbons on either side. Fragile in appearance as well as always a wary look that adorns her face.
Build: Short and slender.
Weapons: 0 has learned she has to fight to stay 'alive' though it's not her greatest liked thing.
A spear made from the inside of a pen, the part the holds the ink, with a broken off tack needle fashioned to the top.
A sewing needle with the string still in the eye.
Weakness(es): Vulnerable.
Not very quick.
Not good at defending.
Easily frightened.
Likes: The feeling of security, anyone nice enough to please not call her nothing.
Dislikes: The feeling of insecurity. Anyone who is excessively rude, too much violence.
History: While the number '0' suggests she was created before the nine, she in fact was not. She earned the number/name due to being virtually useless, an acquaintance dubbed her with it after being ambushed while helping her, and having to defend her because of her cowardly output.
Extra: 0 will often talk to herself, seeming as how no one wants to talk to her, she finds friends in in-animate objects and keeps away from danger as much as physically possible
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((Ja~ So yay,I finally got 0 up. I'm glad to have this 9 rp going, hopefully I shall have seen more members around soon! I'm anticipating, but not expecting since it is so new! |D I can't wait though, regardless.))
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((The Sanctuary.:
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((Main:
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H...Hello?
Nervous
When he spotted the bookstore, his lens-like eyes widened. He hadn't seen a building in ages! Grinning, he ran over to the door, his improvised pack of tools bouncing on his back, and crouched down to peer under the door. Hm. How to get in? He put his hands on the bottom of the door, shoving with all his might, in case it wasn't latched properly....
The female doll lifted her head from a beefy encyclopedia at the sound of someones approach and the light squeak of the front door, as if a strong wind had been pushing on it.
In fact, the door was not properly latched, even if it had been the lock was horribly rusted and would not serve much use against an invasion of the beast but it would hold out.
As it was pushed upon, the door rattled, creaking and moaning as it slowly moved back against the pressure 13 was using to shove it open, inside, it was startlingly dark, that is, to the un-adjusted eye, or in the dolls case, optical.
So he labored to open the door a little more to let the dim light from outside shine in.
The thicker ones however, the ones that proved informational, looked like they had been dragged out and shoved back, opened and closed, some even lay splayed out on the floor or shelves, not even bothered to have been closed at all.
As the door opened up even more, a flood of dim light washed over where the sun was ABLE to get in, landing its shine on a desk where the encyclopedia lay open and half hung off of said desk, a small form hunched over it and reading, until the light caught her by surprise.
The small figure quickly stumbled back away from the light, clamoring to hide from it's source, afraid that anyone, or anything, that had spotted her could of been dangerous.
"I bet it's a toy," said 13, talking to himself as he often did and he came out from his hiding place. He ran eagerly over to where he had seen movement, but whatever it was was gone. He frowned, shoving a wisp of the rage on his head out of his eyes. "Hello? Is something here?" He didn't expect a response---machines and toys never talked--but he usually called to them anyway. He began peering under things nearby. He paid little attention to the book, as he did not know how to read.
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