TS: Natalia Belaia 3.0

Redone app for for the sake of the new mission.

and Natasha's outfit has been needing an upgrade for a long time...

Copy pasta time!

!!WARNING!! Massive Wall of Text ahead. Proceed with caution.

Full Name:
Natalia Grigorievna Belaia (“Natasha”)

Age:
Looks 21 (approximately 100, give or take a decade)

Gender:
Female

Species:
Living Doll (Matryoshka)

Job:
Mage (Curse specialist)

Weapon:
None, unless you count the book.
Update! She now also carries small knives. Like, pocketknife-size small knives. Still not really dangerous, but...

Abilities:
She can create and operate up to five additional bodies with her mind, soul, and energy divided evenly between them. Controlling that many bodies and handling that much sensory input is very, very difficult, so the ability doesn’t see much use outside of long, multi-focus black rituals.

Personality:
A delightful bundle of sunshine, Natasha is not. She takes her job very seriously, and doesn’t take any nonsense from people who take it – or her – lightly. She carries herself like with all the grace and poise of a member of royalty – but with none of the social graces. She comes off as rather cold and apathetic, but really she’s got a very dark, dry sense of humor and enjoys making others laugh… the trouble is, since she almost never speaks in anything but a monotone, people rarely understand that she’s only joking. She doesn’t make real friends easily but she’s very loyal to those she trusts.

Bio:
Before she was ‘born’ she was owned by the lonely daughter of old Russian nobility. Her owner had no siblings and few friends; the little wooden nesting doll that would later become Natasha was her constant companion and confidant. Still, the girl was unsatisfied, and in a fit of desperation used an ancient spell to bring her beloved toy to life at midnight of New Year’s Eve, 1900. She and her newly-awakened doll became the closest of friends, and spent many a summer day on the family estate, swimming, riding, picking fresh apples from the family orchard, and stealing cakes and pastries from the kitchen. It was a happy time.

For a while it seemed that everything would turn out for the best, but it was not to be. Precisely one year after she brought her doll to life, the girl collapsed. None of the many doctors who came to cure her could find anything physically wrong with her, and until a priest on a pilgrimage to a nearby monastery passed by the estate, no one had any idea what had caused her sudden illness. The ritual used to bring Natasha to life, the priest said, had invoked the power of pagan gods; the spirits had come to collect their debt, and in payment had taken the vast majority of her life force.

The priest offered what assistance he could, but it was not enough to restore the girl to health. She spent the next several years completely bedridden, becoming wholly dependent on Natasha and the other servants for everything from cooking and cleaning to even such simple tasks as eating and writing a letter.

Throughout it all Natasha remained loyally at her mistress’ bedside, ready and waiting to help the friend who had given her life in any way she could. She delved deep into the black magic that had brought her to life, trying to find a way – any way – to restore her owner’s ailing health. It was dangerous, she knew, but she did not care. She spent years searching, dividing her time between caring for the slowly-dying girl and her study of dark rituals, all with minimal success.

Then came the war. While the other members of the household fled, the two of them remained holed up in the nearly-abandoned family manor, struggling to get by on less than nothing. The girl’s already-failing health worsened. When the armies finally came knocking, they attempted to escape, but in the process the two became separated.

Natasha fled abroad to France, returning once the fighting back home had died down to search for her missing mistress. Though she traveled far and wide, she could never find a trace of her childhood friend; to this day, she still doesn’t know whether her owner ever made it out alive that cold winter night, and has mostly given up on ever finding her alive – if the girl survived, she is more than likely to have died of either her illness or old age. Still, the search continues.

SoooomuchangstI'mputtingwaytoomuchthoughtintothisanyway...

Likes:
- Being outside (doesn’t happen very often…)
- Tea
- Music
- Secretly, she likes to read lame humor and comic books

Dislikes:
- Sour/bitter foods
- Heights
- White bread
- Being chastised for her lack of etiquette

Additional Info:
- Her favorite flowers are white jasmine.
- Her favorite foods are caramelized fruits.
- She can play the balalaika (it’s her de-stressing mechanism)
- She is bilingual (Russian, English), and knows a little bit of French.
- She’s pretty good at random household tasks (cooking, cleaning, etc.) and at doing small repairs.
- She has zero combat skills. She’d rather prepare for an attack in advance by setting traps or using her magic to launch an offensive from far away; if she’s ever cornered, she can’t do much other than whack her assailant with her book.
- Her book is one of the few mementos she has of her old life. It contains letters, drawings, snippets from newspapers and even an old war medal (seen poking out in the form of the bookmark). It isn’t filled, and she treats the blank pages like a journal, making notes on events and scribbling down ideas for new spells.

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Her old designs can be found here and here.

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IT'S ONE IN THE MORNING IMMA GO TO SLEEP NOW.