#Character #FeraCharacter

An Enforcement officer and Detective in the Ceset Uniformed Coalition Collective (Nation), Nadiya is Transgender, formally a male called "Jack", Nadiya transitioned during her first two years at the Precinct.

Nadiya has a worn, hollow beauty shaped by exhaustion and purpose rather than vanity. Her most distinctive feature is her long, unkempt red hair, often tangled or hastily tied back, streaked with grease or dried rain. Her skin is pale and freckled, the complexion of someone who rarely sees sunlight but often stares down fluorescent tubes and flickering neon.

Dark circles haunt her eyes, which are a murky green-grey depending on the lighting, sharp and observant even when dulled by fatigue. Her expression tends to rest somewhere between neutral and mildly irritated, reflecting a life that expects disappointment. When she smiles, it's thin and humourless; when she frowns, it's barely different.

She dresses functionally, not fashionably. Faded work shirts with the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled past her elbows, paired with creased slacks and a beat-up long coat that has seen better decades. Scuffed boots and nicotine-stained fingers complete the look. The smell of smoke, damp concrete, and machine oil often clings to her clothes.

Nadiya rarely wears makeup. If she ever did, it’s long since washed away. Any jewellery she owns is tucked under her shirt, forgotten. There's a quiet intensity to the way she moves: not elegant, not aggressive, just efficient. Like someone always a few steps from collapse but refusing to fall.

Nadiya is a woman in quiet collapse; held together by instinct, routine, and a deep-seated refusal to stop. At first glance, she seems cold, disinterested, or bitter. In truth, she is simply exhausted: mentally, emotionally, and physically worn down by years of fighting systems too broken to repair and memories too heavy to carry.

She doesn't trust easily. Words come slow. She listens more than she speaks, and when she does speak, it's usually short, dry, and just sharp enough to remind you she's paying attention. Her humour is deadpan and laced with melancholy, often mistaken for sarcasm. She avoids unnecessary contact, both physical and emotional, and prefers silence to small talk. Eye contact is rare unless she’s interrogating someone or about to hit them.