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Thisbe Saneer is a Humanist, a member of the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash', and a guardian of the miracle child Bridger. She creates smell-tracks for films and has won several Oscars. Mycroft calls her a witch due to her special potions and skills. She is the sibling of Ockham Saneer.

Appearance[]

Thisbe is of primarily Indian descent, possibly with some Mestizo ancestry. She has dark skin, wide eyes framed by long black lashes,[1] and long dark hair that often falls around her face. Her Humanist boots are "patterned with a flowing brush-pen landscape, the kind with winding banks and misty mountains that the eye gets lost in."[2] When she dons her boots, she adopts an intensely predatory demeanour.[3]

References[]

  1. She stared down at the intruder, her posture all power: squared shoulders, her dark neck straight, the indignity of her slept-in shirt forgotten. I believe there is some Mestizo blood deep in the Saneer line, but the rest of Thisbe is all India, large eyes larger for their long black lashes, so her harsh glance did not pierce so much as envelop its unhappy target as she repeated the sensayer’s name. - Too Like The Lightning, Ch. 2: A Boy and His God
  2. She had freed the sea of her black hair from the wad which had kept it dry through her morning shower, and donned her boots too, tall, taut Humanist boots patterned with a flowing brush-pen landscape, the kind with winding banks and misty mountains that the eye gets lost in. - Too Like The Lightning, Ch. 2: A Boy and His God
  3. Thisbe’s voice and posture took command as she stepped forward. She had freed the sea of her black hair from the wad which had kept it dry through her morning shower, and donned her boots too, tall, taut Humanist boots patterned with a flowing brush-pen landscape, the kind with winding banks and misty mountains that the eye gets lost in. Any Humanist transforms, grows stronger, prouder, when they don the Hive boots which stamp each Member’s signature into the dust of history, but if others change from house cat to regal tiger, Thisbe becomes something more extreme, some lost primordial predator known in our soft present only through its bones. She stared down at the intruder, her posture all power: squared shoulders, her dark neck straight, the indignity of her slept-in shirt forgotten. - Too Like The Lightning, Ch. 2: A Boy and His God
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