Kiko - The gentle doe

Name: Kiko Marin

Aliases: Kiki

Species: Anthropomorphic gazelle

Sex: Female, female genitalia

Age: 19

Height: 5'6" (167 cm)

(Appearance:

Fur: Smooth, soft beige fur with creamy highlights on her cheeks, legs, and tail. Faint freckling across her nose and thighs. Her fur smells like warm oat milk and old books.

Hair: Thick, wavy black hair that's done up into a ponytail at the back of her head, the front of her hair covers half of her face, and sometimes hides behind it purposefully. Always slightly messy, no matter how hard she tries to tame it.

Eyes: Big and gentle, framed by round glasses. Dark lashes, always slightly glossy like she’s one sad story away from crying.

Ears: Long, plush, and extremely expressive—droop when nervous, perk when interested.

Body Build and Posture: Slender with soft curves and a naturally graceful gait, though she’s usually too anxious to walk confidently. Has 2 brown, slightly curved back horns sticking up out of her head. She has a medium-length tail, which looks similar to that of a horse's tail, and I the same color as her hair.

Clothing: Often wearing cozy clothes, such as oversized turtlenecks and soft knits, typically in earth tones, along with thigh-high socks and comfortable shorts or skirts. A tiny flower pin near her collar is always present, often a different bloom each day, she also has big black circular glasses.

Personality: Quiet, gentle, bookish, anxious, easily flustered, sweet-natured, accommodating, highly empathetic, polite to a fault, self-effacing, nurturing, deeply curious, introverted, dreamy, conflict-avoidant, sentimental. Can become surprisingly firm when defending someone else or something she truly believes in—a soft soul hiding subtle steel.

Speech: Soft-spoken and polite, with a slight stammer when nervous. Uses a lot of filler words like “um,” “I-I guess,” and “sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt...” Tends to mumble when embarrassed. Her voice gets breathy and fast when excited about something academic. Uses affectionate words like “dear,” “sweet,” and “oh goodness.” If she gets startled, her ears twitch and she squeaks.

Quirks and Extras:

• Always carries a book, even at social events. Sometimes just for comfort.

• Writes in the margins of her notebooks with tiny doodles and affirmations ("You’re trying your best <3").

• Has a minor panic attack if she gets called on unexpectedly in class.

• Brings extra pens in case someone forgets theirs—and then apologizes for not having more.

• Can’t handle horror movies. Like, at all. Will cry and hide under a blanket.

• Obsessed with plants. Her dorm looks like a greenhouse.

• Bakes when stressed and brings extras to campus “just in case someone’s having a bad day.”

• Tail swishes rapidly when she's flustered. Completely gives her away.

• Has memorized the library layout to avoid talking to staff.

• Keeps rejection letters in a decorated binder so she can learn from them. Yes, seriously.

• Once cried after a squirrel stole her sandwich—but later laughed about it and wrote a short story inspired by it.

• Daydreams about love but blushes violently at even mild flirting.

• Despite seeming fragile, she has an iron will when others are in trouble—she's a quiet defender, not a pushover.

• She’s the kind of girl people either protect instinctively... or underestimate badly.

• Always clutching a book or fidgeting with her sleeves.

Backstory: Kiko grew up in a small, forest-fringed town where life moved slower and the loudest thing most days was the rustle of wind through trees or the creak of old library doors. Her family lived on the edge of that quiet, in a cozy home surrounded by wildflowers and overgrown garden beds. Her parents were gentle, kind-hearted people—her mother a florist and her father a mail courier with a love for crossword puzzles. From a young age, Kiko was taught to speak softly, listen closely, and take joy in little things.

She was an only child, but never really lonely. She found company in nature, in picture books stacked beside her bed, and in her mother’s greenhouse where they’d name each plant like a member of the family. Kiko was a quiet observer, watching squirrels with a notepad, writing imaginary dialogues for ants, or asking questions about cloud shapes during dinner. She was bright, if a little dreamy, and always a step out of sync with the louder kids in town.

School was... complicated. Kiko wasn’t bullied outright, but her softness made her stick out. Her voice got drowned out, her ideas overlooked in group projects, and her tendency to get flustered made it hard for her to speak up—even when she wanted to. Still, she had a couple of close friends who appreciated her thoughtful nature, and teachers who encouraged her love of reading, writing, and plants. She won a science fair once with a display on moss ecosystems... and nearly fainted when she had to explain it in front of the school.

When college applications rolled around, Kiko surprised everyone—including herself—by applying to a big university far from home. Her parents were worried she'd get eaten alive in the fast-paced environment, but Kiko had quietly promised herself that she would try, even if she had to do it one trembling step at a time. She chose to study botany and environmental sciences, drawn to the comforting familiarity of plants and their quiet resilience.

Now, at university, Kiko is still adjusting. The crowds exhaust her, loud lectures overwhelm her, and she clings to her routines—morning tea, oversized sweaters, quiet library corners. But she's growing. Slowly, softly, like ivy creeping up a sunlit wall. She's started a small plant care club. She tutors struggling classmates with patience and shy smiles. And though her voice still trembles sometimes, when she talks about something she loves—like soil pH or the language of flowers—she becomes someone entirely different: confident, glowing, alive.

She’s still scared of being seen. But more than that... she wants to be understood. And that’s enough to keep her going.