Name: Flea
Race: True Fairy
Orientation: Urban Wildlife, Strays, Vermin, Insects etc.
Age: Not even Flea knows how old she is.
Height: Hard to say... she looks roughly six inches tall.


Appearance: Flea is small, and at roughly six inches tall, she is tiny compared to most humanoids - though she is of average height for her species. She seems to be a bit punk-like in general appearance, with her hair sticking out in all directions, and varying in colour, depending on what dye she has found in a household garbage can. Her outfit is made up of odds and ends - mismatched boots, one long stripy sock, and the other an ankle sock from a doll. Leather shorts, possibly made out of cuttings from a purse, is matched with a t-shirt from a Monster High doll, sporting that doll range's cute skull logo. She wears goggles, probably taken from a soldier doll. From her back, a set of transluscent dragonfly wings poke, sticking out through rough holes cut in the shirt.

She is not clean, and not tidy. She looks like she took a bath in an oil-tainted puddle, and stains of a possibly toxic nature adhere to her clothes ... and her chin. She also smells like she has spent a week living in a camel's groin. Most of the odour is unrecognisable - a factor which those encountering it should be very relieved about.

Her eyes have an almost reptilian quality to them, the iris being too large, and the pupil a narrow slit. They are also that curious form of yellow that is found occasionally in cats. When she speaks, her accent is fairly clearly local, a New Yorker through and through. And, around humans, she also has a wary, almost belligerent air about her.

Personality: Flea is aggresively protective of the animals that live on her patch of Midtown Manhattan. She is also passionate about her work. She has a dedication to what she sees as her vocation that is actually quite admirable, although some of what she does is so odd that it is hard to really understand what she does for and with the animals in her care. She is pleasant to other Faeries, if a little wary, like a small fish who finds herself swimming amongst sharks, who are not eating her, but might do so at any moment. On the other hand, she dislikes humans, and that prejudice sometimes might spill over to the more human-like faeries. She believes that humans have dumped a lot of concrete and metal onto a perfectly servicable natural habitat, and the wildlife that joined them has been abused dreadfully. She looks after the strays and the vermin of the city, but has no love for the humans in the same place.

Having said that, she is no fighter. She might mouth off with considerable heat, but she doesn't get into scraps. She flits off at top speed if any violence seems to be heading her way. She is not a coward, but she is a realist. She is small, squishy, and snack sized. Facing down someone a couple of dozen times her size, with fangs, claws and who knows what else? That would be suicide, and she has work to do. Dying is not an option.

Connection to the Morgan Library: Flea is not an official part of the library staff. However, she is not just tolerated there, she is treated with some degree of friendship. Since the library falls within the boundaries of her turf, she sees it as a duty to ensure that the local rats, wasps, cockroaches, and other unwelcome guests do not set up home in the library. She takes this as a very serious task, and it does help the library, since many such creatures might consider books excellent nesting material. While not employed by the library itself, she is a regular visitor, and on good terms with most of the faerie employees, who look on Flea as more of a good luck mascot than a smelly little nuisance.

Skills and Knowledges: Flea knows every nook and cranny of her turf, and can probably find her way around it blindfolded, drunk, and upside down, all at the same time. There's not one building she can't get into, and while she may not know names, she is aware of everyone in her patch who is either very kind to, or very mean to, the animal population. She can talk with most animals under her purview; a stray cat or rat or housefly might prove a rather interesting conversationalist by her standards. There's no chance she could have a chat with a moose or an octopus. She only works with what she understands. She's also quick, like many of her kind - she doesn't fight, even when she is being obnoxious, but she does know how to get out of a problem with great speed.

Flea can also call on groups of her small animal family to lend her aid. A pest controller chasing her might suddenly run into an alley of angry stray dogs, or suddenly find themselves surrounded by VERY pissed off wasps. She looks after them, and they look after her. It's a symbiotic relationship. She grooms them, finds them food or a way to help when they are sick, scouts out new nest territories, warns them when danger is near ... and they do much the same in return.

Flea is a thief. Or what humans consider a thief to be. It is not that she steals for money or fun. She just doesn't understand the concept of ownership, and would gladly give anything she has to others if they needed it. She is selfless that way. But if she likes the look of your donut, she will have it out of your hands and into her mouth before she can even pause to think about it. Animals often share, especially those living on garbage. A nest of roaches never hoards things for one roach. They share!

Quotation: "Why am I called Flea? Use your noggin! See all these animals? Well, there's a saying. Where you find a stray, you'll find a Flea. And that's me! What!? Stop laughing!"