
Happy Birthday, David Tennant!


Zepheera picked up many hobbies over the years to pass the time and to keep herself productive. On top of tactile skills like sewing and knitting, she’s also dabbled in electric wiring and tinkering – a skill she only expands upon after meeting the Doctor.

“See anything yet, Zepheera?”
The borrower in question rolled her eyes as the felt a series of rumbles through the hardwood floor that seemed to indicate the Doctor was crouching down to check on her already. It had only been a few seconds since she’d been sent down into this small gap to investigate for clues. A glance over her shoulder gave her a narrow view of her Time Lord flattened on the ground with one eye shut tight and the opposite eyebrow raised high, as though it would give him a greater insight on Zepheera’s perspective.
“Doctor, we’ve been over this, you can’t fit down here.”
“Yeah, but I can’t help being curious!” he declared defensively. “Last place anybody sees the big old mysterious being is disappearing through this tiny little gap, which should be impossible given its size!”
Depending on how it had been done, such a change might have left behind some sort of residue that would assist the pair of time travelers in knowing what exactly they were up against. On the other hand, if the person or creature had simply made themselves smaller, then Zepheera could be at risk where she now stood.
Well, more like crouched. Even for her, standing at four and a half inches tall, it was a bit of a tight fit. In any case, the Doctor had to be ready to help her despite the fact that his hand wouldn’t be able to reach more than a few inches into such a small space.
Zepheera bit back a huff, placing her hands on her hips as she backed away from the Doctor. They’d been together for months doing this exact kind of thing on a near daily basis, and she’d thought the Doctor trusted her more than what he seemed to be demonstrating. But just as she was about to tell him exactly what she thought, she felt and heard her foot sink into some gelatinous mystery fluid with a sickening squelch. She jumped away from it with a cry of disgust, shaking as much of it off her foot as possible.
“Found something,” she muttered to the Doctor through a clenched jaw.
Zepheera is biracial. Her mother was Caucasian and her father was brown-skinned. Zepheera is in between their skin tones, and very much resembles her father in looks.
Zepheera is biracial. Her mother was Caucasian and her father was brown-skinned. Zepheera is in between their skin tones, and very much resembles her father in looks.

“But what is she?” asked one of the scientists to the Doctor in an aside.
The Time Lord looked up from the sample he was examining through a microscope at the woman in a white coat addressing him, glancing at the shelf on the other side of the room where his four-inch-tall companion stood scrutinizing racks of test tubes. They knew one of them was wrong, and she volunteered to find out which out of the 75 tubes it was since her eyes wouldn’t tire as easily as any of the human scientists’ would looking at the miniscule labels.
Turning back to the scientist, he gave a sniff and replied, “I rather think that’s her business to share, not mine. Although,” he added as he focused back on the microscope, “to be fair, if you asked she probably wouldn’t tell you.”
“And why’s that?” the scientist hissed, sounding affronted.
“Cause you’re human!” exclaimed the Doctor, not bothering to look up from the microscope this time. “Would you trust somebody who looks as big as you do to her right off?”
Her gaze wandered over to the impossibly tiny woman still searching tirelessly through the test tubes, and she heaved a resigned sigh. She supposed she wouldn’t. Rather than admit that, however, she pressed on. “But she trusts you, and you’re taller than I am!”
“Well, you’ve got me there.” The Doctor straightened to his full height–a full head taller than the female scientist–adjusting his crisp royal blue suit. “Little over sixteen times her height, I’m surely terrifying. In’t that right, Zepheera?”
His tiny companion’s head snapped up at the mention of her name, only to find the Doctor crossing the room right toward the shelf she was standing on. After all this time, it still blew her mind how fast someone so large could move.
“I’m just as scary as any mean ol’ human, eh?” he smirked, pulling a teasingly startling ‘rawr’ face close to the eye-level shelf as he passed the borrower and moved on to fetch whatever he was after.
Zepheera flinched at the sudden lack of space, but shot an exasperated look through the back of her friend’s head. She went about her business, muttering about what a giant ten-year-old her Time Lord was as she worked.
Zepheera’s healing factor is inspired by the mutant gene à la X-Men. Similarly, the gene is carried by and passed on through males. Zepheera’s father had the same healing factor and passed it on to her, but none of her descendants will have it.
As to the extent of the power: it’s not as strong as, say, Deadpool’s or Wolverine’s, but most wounds will heal. This includes but is not limited to cuts, burns, and broken bones, but excludes regrowing lost extremities and mortal wounds. Zepheera is as susceptible to death as any other borrower.
Zepheera has a bad habit of scratching herself absentmindedly, whether at the back of her hand, her neck, or her upper arms. It’s a nervous tick that developed during childhood, and thanks to her healing factor it’s a difficult habit to notice, let alone shake off.

“Must you drive with your feet?” complained Zepheera as she clung to a hopefully useless doodad on the console, eyeing the red Chuck Taylor that had landed a little too close for comfort. “Not to be rude or anything, I just can’t help but feel slightly at risk here!”
“Oh, always the backseat drivers…” the Doctor muttered through clenched teeth. But he peered through the loops of cable at Zepheera, careful to know where she was at all times in order to avoid…incidents, he thought with a glance at his shoe. “For your information, it takes six pilots to fly this ship properly, and considering I failed my test, I think I manage quite well, thanks very–!”
He was cut off when a rumble of turbulence shook the TARDIS. With the extra leverage of his propped-up foot, the Doctor managed to keep his balance. Zepheera was not quite so lucky, as the tremor was much greater to her. Her feet were thrown out from under her and she slipped over the edge of the raised section of the console that she had thought for sure would be safer. As her grip tightened on her handhold to prevent her from being thrown off the console altogether, she reconsidered her chain of logic.
“Zepheera?” called the Doctor after losing sight of his four-inch-tall companion. He hurried around to the panel where he’d last seen her, letting out a relieved breath when she appeared unhurt. Even so, while his left hand turned a crank and several dials, his right scooped up Zepheera and lifted her to his shoulder. “How ‘bout we try this?” It was still early days for the pair of them, and neither had ever lived so closely with someone of such a dramatic size difference before.
But they were learning. Zepheera didn’t have time to be cross about being picked up without warning because the Doctor was already on the move. She clung to his collar as the Time Lord dashed about, and through trial and error she found a stable position in shoving her legs under his lapel and anchoring her feet against his neck.
Once she felt secure, Zepheera actually thought this wasn’t so bad. Sure, riding on a giant’s shoulder was nerve-wracking, not to mention he moved at a borderline dizzying rate. But at least up here, she wouldn’t have to worry about any flying converse.
Zepheera is ambidextrous, but she favors her left hand in writing and her right in combat.