Sorting (Term Thirteen)

[cherrylemonade2]

[/b] Zane
Last Name: Maddock
Age: 18
Appearance:

on the left

History: Born in Italy into an ancient family of noble Purebloods, Zane always knew that he was destined for greatness. He was raised as an only child, the heir to his family's enormous fortune. Never being required to lift a finger didn't affect Zane in the slightest - physical labor became an obsession and he resisted his parents' attempts to spoil him. He did, however, become overconfident.
Zane first showed signs of magic when he was the ripe old age of nine, which seemed so late that his parents were worried that he was incapable of magic at all. But, since his first display (showers of sparks), he showed them frequently and has since become a skilled wizard. After he turned ten, the family moved their manor (yes, physically moved meaning magically uprooted the house itself) into France so that Beauxbatons would become a fair and reachable option.
He currently lives in Paris, where he immerses himself in trouble and frivolity when he is not at school.
Personality: Zane is a cocky playboy who is upset if he doesn't get his way. He just dances through life, not concerned about grades, though he seems to pass every class with ease. He is willing to work for what he wants, as long as it's guaranteed that he will be successful. He's optimistic and always has a smile on his face. Zane has the habit of flirting mercilessly with shy and nerdy girls. He isn't mean to anyone, unless they make fun of him. He's a happy-go-lucky teddy bear, but he can be serious. When someone is willing to bear their soul, he'll return the favor. His one of the most trustworthy people around.
Sample RP:

Zane strutted through Paris, taking in the sights and the sounds of the wonderful city that he was so familiar with. People around him where jabbering in French and yelling obscenities that tourist ears no doubt mistook as confessions of undying love. He grinned at a particularly foul-mouthed, bald man and slipped off the busy street. Entering a discreet, unconsequential cafe, he disappeared from anyone that may be following him on the street. It was his favorite getaway from everyday life. Though they were unable to perform magic, Muggles really did know how to provide comfort.

He'd never let his mother hear him say that, of course. Being part of a proud Pureblood family meant never even venturing into Muggle territory. Or at the very least, never being seen amongst Muggles. It was one of his favorite places to be, though. It gave him a sense of power, knowing that he could overpower anyone and yet, he did not. It made him feel vulnerable, as well. Here he was, a secret outcast, moving about unfamiliar streets. The cafe was his only comfort.

Opening the door, he was immediately immersed in the hazy smell of coffee beans and newspapers and home. Smiling lazily, he walked up to the counter and ordered his usual, a latte with extra cream and a pinch of cinnamon. He believed religiously that cinnamon could make anything taste better. Zane moved to take a seat by the front window. He took a moment to admire the window paints before turning to the newspaper sitting on the table before him. The headline caught him by surprise: "UNSUSPECTING VICTIMS DIE OF UNKNOWN CAUSES." It only took a few sentences for him to realize that these were no ordinary deaths. Undoubtedly, the last thing they had seen was a frightening flash of green.

[/size][/ul][/blockquote]

Must be Sournois

[ivory]

FIRST NAME:

Ivory Delmi.

LAST NAME:

Vein.

APPEARENCE:

Seeing as how curly brown hair runs in this young girl’s family, it’s only fitting that she, too, has it. With the women, it’s long, wild, and often unmanageable, yet it is the pride and joy of most. Why has always been a mystery to Ivory, because she, frankly, can hardly stand it. Since returning to her parents, she has been forbidden to cut it off or ‘harm’ it in any way, shape or form. The only solace she has is in knowing that at Beauxbatons, her parents have no control. Of course, she still won’t hack it off herself for fear of messing it up and looking odd and perhaps a bit lopsided, but just what is her remedy? A hairband that is either in her hair or on her left wrist at all times. You never do really know just when you’ll need to tie your hair back to keep it from your face or your neck. Particularly if its length falls to somewhere about the middle of your back, perhaps lower, as Ivory’s does. The immaturity of some people – boys in particular – in her classes, such as said boys tugging on her hair, just adds to her level of reason to keep it tightly together and under control.

On those rare occasions where she does not bother to keep it under control by methods of tying it back away from her face, Ivory can continually be found running a hand through it. Whether it be because of some sort of emotion that isn’t easily vent-able, or because it’s in her face, it’s become a habit hard to break and a very slow method to straightening her hair just a bit. The constant running her fingers through her curls tugs at them, apparently, and causes them to straighten out more than they could possibly by any other means that aren’t magical. She’s usually pretty okay with her magical abilities but severely doubts them when it comes to pointing her wand at her head and using a spell she’s never practiced. Turning her head into a pumpkin or something of the like simply doesn’t appeal to her; makes it hard to wear hats, although the girl doesn’t wear hats all that often. In the winter, she certainly does, but any time after that is completely a spontaneous act. Her clothes don’t typically ‘match’ or ‘go with’ any sort of hat that she has seen other girls her age wearing.

Not only does unruly hair run in her family, but, amongst the women, so does a small frame. Her height has always been a source of self-consciousness for her but with the years, the self-consciousness has faded. Not entirely, but enough that she only gets frustrated or angry when someone purposely makes some sort of ridiculing remark about it. She stands – though just barely – at five foot and, contrary to what other girls may do to either look ‘hot’ or ‘pretty’ or simply to gain a few inches, you will never catch Ivory dead in heels. She prefers tennis shoes, or flats at the most extreme, and neither tend to add any height to her frame. Her slightly optimistic way of looking at this is that, were she to gain a few inches, her body would probably look oddly disproportioned. All her life, it has been slender – now weighing in at one-hundred-three pounds – and now is no different; for her to stand a few inches taller would make her look lanky, like a teenager that hasn’t fully grown into their body just yet. Her deepest wish is that this isn’t her adult body. Five foot is far too short for an adult and she really doesn’t want to be stuck at this height the rest of her life. The words ‘a little old granny’ are starting to worry her a bit and she’s only fifteen, for Merlin’s sake.

Although she doesn’t really like the vantage point from this height, she has found that she doesn’t mind it nearly as much as she once might have. It’s better than being tall and lanky and uncomfortable like some girls she now knows at Beauxbatons, but she still sometimes resents not having another inch or two on her total height. She’s also noticed that her height lets people both undermine her, as though she’s a bothersome child that acts like they know things that people a few years older would know, and they also think her to be a whopping total of twelve. Only her sometimes impressive vocabulary and quick temper allude to otherwise – and that typically surprises the people that have come to expect her to be this dainty thing. A girl doesn’t have to be huge to be startling. You can scare that crap out of someone with a wand as easily as you could with a fist. Well...When it comes to other witches and wizards, that is. When it comes to muggles, there isn’t a whole lot you can do other than act a little older than your age. And this is precisely what Ivory has come to do.

Ivory’s complexion is fair and has always been so, even during the summer due to her desire to remain indoors placating herself with simpler tasks. Those tasks would include reading or writing, as she is a fan of both, or playing games with her younger cousins. However, there are those times where she’ll seek complete peace and quiet and it would be those times were one would find her outside, climbing a tree with a battered book that she had probably memorized years ago. Those are the times where her hair will be hanging free and her overall attitude would be much more peaceful, calm, and relaxed than it is on an everyday basis. Yet her clothes would be jeans and a t-shirt and nothing else. Once, when she was little and forced into little-girl skirts and whatnot, she had climbed a tree. She never would forge the snickers of her male cousins and the demure smiles of her aunts and uncles at a family reunion when her knickers just about flashed everyone as she climbed up that tree. Perhaps that fueled her dislike for such frilly and girly things now – she isn’t entirely certain.

She’s a girl that enjoys being a bit more tomboy than girly girl, but doesn’t really venture outside when she’s at home. There’s nothing there that holds nearly half the interest that the places outdoors at Beauxbatons do. And being a bit more tomboy also implies that she doesn’t really hold any sort of interest in fashion or anything of that nature. She doesn’t, not even a whit. Her clothes typically consist of jeans and a t-shirt and jeans and a sweater in the winter. Recently, she’s taken to wearing flannel shirts rather than the sweaters because they’re soft and sometimes more comfortable. Some hang down to her knees and some fit her just right. Her mood indicates the sort of colors she likes to wear and as of late, she’s been wearing clothes of the brighter variety. When she wears sweaters, it’s usually when she intends to go outside and those almost always hang to midthigh or lower. Did she mention that they’re always soft? Soft clothing is the best kind of clothing and even her well-worn t-shirts have taken on that soft, fuzzy sort of feel to them. That’s probably not a good sign for t-shirts as it usually means that the threads are easily breakable, but this girl will take comfort – and soft shirts – over anything else any day.

Most girls her age like looking pretty and at their best every day with gobs and gobs of makeup that tends to wear off during the middle of the day where it then all needs to be reapplied. What purpose does that serve than to be some sort of mask that others see? Ivory’s never quite seen the point in that, either, and probably never will. She can’t bring herself to see the point in applying goop that feels like a second skin and therefore has never worn it except on special occasions with her family or otherwise. The otherwise applies to the various events that Beauxbatons has, such as balls and whatnot, and those are not everyday thank goodness. She doesn’t like makeup – it always takes too long to fiddle with anyhow and it’s like some of the things are torture devices, honestly. Alright, so she’s exaggerating a bit, but the concept is still the same.

While there are many things that Ivory won’t wear, there are things that she has taken to wearing lately. Sweaters that are of pastel colors are one of them, but jewelry is another. She’s never really worn jewelry except the plastic kind when she was younger. Recently, however, she’s taken to wearing a silver band on her right ring finger that has an old German saying engraved into it. Alte Liebe rostet nicht, which translates into ‘all in good time’, or ‘all in its time’. If people tend to notice the engraving, she’ll explain it to them but not always happily. It’s sort of a personal sort of thing, something that’s faintly private, and yet she wears it on her finger for the world to see. It’s a bit hypocritical of herself, but most people have traits that do that to themselves.

PERSONALITY:

A point can’t be proven if one doesn’t try or keeps it to themselves, right? As it turns out, Ivory has many points to prove, most of them only making sense in one place – her head. Very rarely do others see things the same way she might, a source of frustration for her for many years. Her failure to cause someone to see things another way will, oftentimes, bring out that fiery temper of hers that will get her into trouble in some way or another. It is usually under tight control at home, where anyone’s temper is not tolerated, much less her own, but Beauxbatons is another story entirely. Sometimes, people don’t really know when they ought to quit speaking or just quit in general and her low patience as well as stubborn attitude rarely ever manages to work to her benefit. Wands in someone’s eye and spells can’t always solve everything, a problem that she is slowly beginning to realize. Sometimes, calm and rational words are the only things that seem to solve anything, much to her dismay – when angry, it’s very hard for this particular girl to be rational and calm all at the same time. Even when she is not angry, it’s hard to her to be rational. The fact that her German accent is more prominent when she is angry, too, often makes it harder to be understood and only aids to frustrate her further.

And for one that would much rather resort to wandwork that exchanging harsh words, Ive isn’t all that bad at it. She was ruddy for the longest time but it’s amazing what a bit of practice tends to do. The only thing that she usually likes practicing in is Quidditch but that’s opened up a bit to include spells and such for her classes and a little beyond that. Her preferred sort of spells – the ones that come easiest to her – are those that are either self-invented in German or those that her parents have taught to her, also in German. Speaking in her natural tongue, she would guess, is the easiest way to perform spells correctly and without issue. But while she is good as spells and charms and whatnot, every person has their downfall and her particular downfall falls along the lines of mixing things together. Things like ingredients. And ingredients are used in potions. So her least favorite class would be Potions because there’s always a way to mess things up so completely that you either have a cauldron performing a trick such as exploding, or you have a thick, congealing mess at the bottom of it. And this is usually the problem for Ivory – the last time that she successfully made something in Potions was in her first year and she was about as stunned as her professor. Nowadays, it’s self-doubt that prevents her from getting the potion done the right way because there’s honestly nothing to it; she knows that, and yet she still manages to not get the potion done within the class time or stirs counterclockwise when the ‘recipe’ calls for the opposite. Too easy to mess up, in her opinion, but she supposes that other people are right – self-doubt is a truly horrible thing.

Self-doubt can sometimes give way to being a bit of a klutz or vice versa. In this case, the two haven’t always gone hand-in-hand but they’ve come pretty damn close. Because of her sometimes flippant and careless attitude, Ivory won’t do things all the way through – for example, putting shoes on the proper way just to walk a few feet when shoes are necessary – and then she’ll end up on her rear on the floor. Or she’ll do things to hastily – like trying to get out of bed too quickly while her feet haven’t yet hit the ground – and she ends up flat on her face. She doesn’t fall all that much, thank goodness, but she sometimes gets the feeling that it’s why she likes Quidditch so much; she has a huge passion for the sport because the only thing you need is a good broom and knowledge on how the game works. When she cuts through the air on her broom – happy at now having a Nimbus something-or-other – she feels almost otherworldly. Perhaps it’s a bit too poetic for flying around on brooms trying to catch a ball the size of a walnut but Ivory likes it and likes it immensely. When it comes to a broom in the air, you either fall off or don’t; it’s pretty good incentive to be careful and thorough all the way through.

As shown above when conversing with people in an argumentative manner – what a delicate way to put it – Ivory can be a bit of a passionate person but she can also be a bit distant. She’s more distant when it comes to relationships with people, excluding her parents. Emotions are hard things for some people to show and Ive falls under that category of people. It’s easy to see when she’s happy and easy to see when there are things on her mind, yet she won’t always give it away to people, she won’t always tell them just exactly what’s wrong or what’s got her in such high spirits. Although, truth be told, it’s much easier to get things out of her when she’s in higher spirits than not. But one emotion that she never shows people are her tears – when something has her upset, she’ll immediately seek refuge in a place that is less traveled so there will be no interruption and, if there is an interruption, she will hurriedly wipe at her eyes and deny, deny, deny. People give you sympathy or their pity when they see you cry, or such has been her experience, and she doesn’t care for it. She doesn’t know what to do with it but has come to, more or less, accept it as being there.

The tendency that she has to display emotions in an odd way – or not display them at all – has also kept her in a bit of a shell built entirely by herself. She isn’t much of one for physical contact; even at home, when her mother strokes her hair, she’ll automatically draw away until the hand has fallen and she realizes what it was that she did. It’s hard to willingly let people touch you because that gives you some sort of intimate bond of varying sorts and then you can become easily hurt. Her past and her present make it harder for her to be accepting of physical contact but she tries to be. Especially after being called out on the trait so blatantly more recently in her life. Making it harder for people to get in backfires on you – words to live by.

Drawing away from the habit of keeping to herself, Ive does have a few other habits, ones that can sometimes get her in trouble or are about as harmless as a rabbit. The harmless ones include fidgeting with her hair – she does it almost constantly. When it’s down, her fingers are running through it and when it’s up, her fingers are twirling stray strands around her fingers. Usually, when she’s twirling strands, it’s because she’s thinking as she works on homework or when she’s sitting in a tower of some sort and thinking of different things on life. Another harmless habit includes cracking her knuckles excessively, sort of as something better to do than simply sitting when she should probably just simply sit. She’s been told that she’ll have arthritis someday but would much rather take the risk than be told not to do something with her body. She can be a bit of a rebel in that aspect.

A not-so-harmless habit includes speaking up for people that don’t always necessarily want to be spoken for. Usually it’s for her friends that have come to expect her to be a little bit confrontational, but other times it’s been for random strangers. Some have gone away a bit grateful and friendships have come out of that; other times, people have been angry and it comes out that the girl has made another enemy. Not exactly what she had intended to do but some people have an independent attitude that matches her own – they don’t need some small chick to defend them and some people have told her as much.

HISTORY:

Ivory doesn’t like to give people a detailed description of her past. Most people don’t anyways, but she doesn’t for reasons that will always sound perfectly justified in her head, and yet they may sound like utter nonsense to people she actually chooses to tell. Those people are far and few between; indeed, in her lifetime now, Ivory can only recall telling one person, but she knows that she’ll have to tell people at some point or another in the future. The whole ordeal is not something that she likes remembering – she doesn’t like to be reminded of the possible events that may or may not have led to the death of her uncle and she doesn’t like to feel almost as though it’s her fault that he could have been murdered in the first place. He was a good man, Uncle Amot was, and he’s been missed terribly throughout her lifetime, his memory managing to filter into her own sometimes as she sits quietly up in a tower. But, as is a habit, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Starting from the beginning is always a good idea to do.

Born around the middle of the summer, Ivory was a quiet, observant baby. She rarely cried out for silly reasons such as hearing a sound that startled her, or for hearing raised voices in just the other room. No, she was quiet unless something demanded immediate attention – and even then she rarely cried. Looking back on it at her age now, Ive would be stunned to believe such a thing. You’ve read her personality – to imagine that she wasn’t always loud and feisty like she is now is almost comical. But yes, she was a quiet baby born to proud parents and a brother that loved carting her around for the sole reason of appearing important to others. He was a good brother and was six years older than she. So when a trip that entailed her parents’ attendance rolled around, he was permitted to attend with them. Ivory’s options were to stay home – though her parents didn’t leave the options directly to her, for she was nothing more than a four year old – with a caretaker, or to go to her grandfather’s house and spend her time with her grandmother and several uncles. Thrilled at the prospect of meeting new family, the little girl was eager for her parents to leave so that she may go to a house she’d only seen in pictures and had promptly fallen in love with.

Her parents, as it turned out, knew quite a lot less about her grandfather – father to Ivory’s mother, Daphne – as Dieter and Delmi had followed an old view of their parents, and that view was that the wife should raise the girls and take on all the household tasks and that the husband should take on the process of raising the boys in the family. Her grandmother was strict but kind, and it was with her where Ivory spent most of her time along with her aunt and uncle – the uncle that was previously mentioned, no less. They were more sociable than Dieter and his other three sons, and they were a lot more fun, too. Her aunt would play with her whenever she so desired and her uncle would often take her out-of-doors to look at the garden that Delmi had planted twenty years ago. The young girl loved to frolic about the flowers – but this part of the story is irrelevant.

A sickness was going around and it came to the household and, fortunately, didn’t take everyone with it. Delmi and Ivory’s aunt were the only two to be affected and they both died sometime later. Their funerals were combined and many people had attended, noting the little girl dressed in black whose hand was in that of an older man’s. He, too, looked as somber as the little girl, and with good reason. From that moment on, Ivory had become his charge and she soon became aware of a rule that had been in place the day that she’d arrived: “Do not go down to the basement, Ivory.” Nothing more was said on that subject, but Ive obeyed without a question. The days, weeks, months, and years soon passed. Her parents had come home by then, but had willingly left the girl in the care of Amot. Aside from the deaths, they found no fault in the conditions which she lived in and her brother, named after Dieter, came with her parents to live there for awhile.

Things were going well until the day where Ivory had mistakenly stumbled to the basement-level floor. Alright, so ‘mistakenly stumbled’ is quite the wrong phrase to use; being a child, she had that curiosity (a curiosity that has never subsided) and had formed a perfectly legitimate excuse for coming down to that floor. She’d ‘dropped her ball and it had rolled down the stairs’, and yes, at the bottom of the stairwell, a red ball could be seen bouncing its way down the hall. Her steps, she recalled, had been slow that day, though they were loud. Perhaps that was what tipped off her Uncle Avery, for he arrived with his body stiff and formal with his arms folded behind his back. All it took was one look and Ivory turned willingly around, all thoughts of going further left behind her with that cold gaze.

A few days later, her brother came to inform her that Amot had passed away, seemingly in his sleep. Her family, without any proof that otherwise may have occurred, bowed their heads and attended the funeral the following week before moving back to their house in France. Life went on until the year before Beauxbatons became an option for Ivory. Her brother and she were having one of their brief arguments and he had, in a flash of anger, made a comment that made Ivory freeze where she stood; how could uncle Amot have been murdered? Murdered, no less, by his family...? No, her brother had not said that in his older-brother outburst, but he had certainly implied it and now this question had remained – and still remains – locked in her head. Nowadays, however, she’s doing a better job of blocking it out and disallowing herself to think on the whole situation.

RP SAMPLE:

Yawning quietly to herself, the sixteen year girl wandered a bit aimlessly through corridor after corridor. Having just come in from running outside – a habit she was trying to get back into for the upcoming Quidditch season – she was now feeling quite lazy and wondered how that could be. Didn’t exercise energize you, make you happy and alert because of the endorphin release? Typically, exercise invigorated her, but recently, she’d been suffering from a bout of insomnia. Maybe exercise had the opposite affect on insomniacs? Somehow, she sincerely doubted it, and it wasn’t like she was a true insomniac anyways. Just a few restless nights of no sleep, that was all. Nodding absently to herself, the girl made another turn down a corridor and paused. Had she gone in circles?

The corridor was familiar, yet different. How that was possible, Ivory didn’t dwell on long. There were only a few things that made each corridor different in Beauxbatons – the view from the windows, the statues or lack of, and the number of doors. Not a whole heck of a lot of variety there. But why was she obsessing over this very little thing? Good question, but it was one without an answer. Shaking her head slowly from side to side, Ive found that she was smiling. Her hand came to rest on the doorknob and she turned it to open the door. Peering her head inside, she found it was an old classroom – or, rather, faintly resembled an old classroom. There was a desk over in the far corner, but it looked as though it had been shoved there to make way for all of the trophies that lined the room. Shelves looked as though they might fold in half under the weight of some, and others looked a bit rusted and old as though they’d been there for a good long while. A few were on display in the centre of the room in their own cases, and she recognized the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup; you would have had to be a first year or a transfer if you didn’t recognize them. Though the names probably helped out a bit, and she cracked a smile.

Ive closed the door slowly behind her, hearing a soft click as the latch slipped into place. At least now she would be alerted if someone snuck up on her, rather than jumping a mile into the air for being surprised. She came further into the room and stopped at the House Cup’s container, viewing the past winners. She looked for the last year her house won the Cup, and noted that it was awhile back. Perhaps we could win this year... she thought to herself, running a finger over the top of the case lightly. Her finger came away with a light coating of dust and she wiped it away on her shorts. Her shorts were of a silky material and hit her at her knees; basketball shorts, for lack of a better term, and they were comfy as heck.

Her fingers then went to probe at the case’s door, seeing if it would slide open. It didn’t, and she didn’t prod at it further to see if a simple Alohomora would unlock it. For all the more the girl knew, the thing was rigged. Her attention then wandered to the case next to it, the Quidditch Cup. She smiled as she prodded at its door, the glass sliding back to let her reach her hands inside. She did so, breathing out a sigh she hadn’t known she’d been holding in when nothing went off – no flashing red lights, nothing screaming “Intruder!” no flashes came out and hexed her unconscious...All in all, a very good thing. She grasped the handles tightly and held it in front of her, looking town at the tiny inscriptions that denoted the past Cup winners. Gryffindor wasn’t nearly so far back on this one, and she smiled as she recalled her second year; that was the last year they’d won it, and she’d been there to help it out a bit, even if she had only been a substitute when the regular Keeper got taken out.

Turning the large – and quite heavy – metal Cup over, she found more inscriptions on it, dating back quite a long time away from now. Blinking her eyes hard, as though it would help her read the small text, she found a smaller inscription that she was sure had nothing to do with Quidditch at all. Perhaps the maker of the Cup, then. She held it one handed momentarily to brush away at any grime that might rest on the trophy, and that was where she made her mistake. Holding something heavy one-handed was never a good idea because you tended to drop that heavy thing. That was precisely what Ivory did and it clattered to the floor with a loud clang! that reverberated around the small room and it rolled into the case that had held it, sounding like a bowling ball. The case fell over and collided into the next case, the sound of crashing glass filling the room as well as another loud clang.

And the only thing the Ivory could do is stand there in disbelief. Merlin, what had she done?

Very difficult. But I think Sournois would benefit you, as well as you will benefit Sournois.

[lilyjohnson]

First Name:

Lillian

Middle Name:

Renée

Last Name:

Johnson

Nick Name:

Lily

Age:

Sixteen, born on August 1st 1993

Appearance:

^Credit too WANNA BE CORRUPTED ?! @ Caution 2.0^

Lily had always looked like her mother. The same brown eyes, brown hair, her tanned skin. She was happy about that, seeing as her mother was extremely beautiful. Lily always knew she was pretty and thought she was beautiful in every way. Maybe that's how she became vain. She only wears a bit of make up though she doesn't actually need any make up. She stands at 5'5, and doesn't like it, she wanted too be tall just like her mother was, but she ended up the average size for a woman. She weighs 115 lbs, average weight. She isn't extremely thin but she is slim, her build is hour-glass figure.

History:

Early Years
Lillian Renée Johnson, was born too Emilie Johnson (née Elizabeth) and Nicholas Johnson, both pure blood wizards. They were extremely happy too have a baby girl. In the first hour you could already see that Lily was going too look exactly like her mother. Her mother and Father both went too Beauxbatons, her mother was in Cossu, her father in Sournoise. They were immediately in love when they saw each other. They got married at age 20 when they were expecting Lillian.

Lily is part italian, part french, part spanish and part english. She was born in Paris, France. Though when she was showing signs of of magic at age three they moved too Sheffield, England. There she went too a muggle school. She was always pretty as a child and that's what made her popular. She was smart but would never admit it too anybody who was her friend. It was too 'embarrassing.' When she was in Year 6, she moved onto High School. She didn't fit in around there and had too be home schooled.

Teenage Years
On her 16th Birthday, a letter from Beauxbatons came inviting her too join, she was thrilled aswell as her parents. She immediately accepted. Though it was weird at first, seeing as she hadn't been in a proper school for 4 years, she got used too it. She already loved it, though after a week off settling in she got a letter from home saying her mother and father were killed in a road accident. It was too much for, Lily too handle.

She skipped a year off Beauxbatons, too get out all the pain. She was invited again, and she said yes. It was the perfect opportunity. She is now in Beauxbatons, content and happy with her life - for now.

Personality:

Lily very talented and mysterious girl. She is great fun,a real party animal. She is devoted to her school work and takes it serious,is very clever and smart,she is never a 'Geek' at school as she is smart but never lets anybody know she is smart. She loves learning new things. She's really bubbly but sensitive. She is very full of herself and vain.She is hardly ever angry. When she is angry everything is effective.


Lily is a very colorful girl. She likes flirting, boys, and hanging out. She likes to sing and dance too. She keeps her life private, except to her very best friends. She is very well prepared for her life too. She always is a very happy person, and can get very hyper if you let her. She's very shy to people though, and doesn't like to show her true colors to a total stranger.

Lily is very music oriented. She loves to sing and dance. But, her parents wouldn't let her do that for a living. They much rather her be in their line of work. So, that's the route she traveled. She never let her music stop though. She still sings, dances, and even sings for her friends when they want. But, she still is serious about her magic. Even if it wasn't her first choice, it was her second, and she loves it very much..

She is the one too brag, but her life isn't that perfect. She is vain, snobby, the one who wants too be better than anyone else but the thing about her is she can't help that. She has been like that since she was only young.

Sample RP:

As the sunset, moved across the sky, Lily could feel herself falling too sleep. After a long hard day of working, she knew she had nothing else to do. The stuffy room, was taking her breathe away. She opened the window and inhaled as much air as she could fit in her lungs. She looked at the time, that was the thing about Summer: It would stay light for ages. Yet she still preferred summer than winter.

It was late on a Thursday night, Lily had school bright and early the next day, so she should be turning in for the night. It was going to be the first day again for her tomorrow. She was quite excited, the magic off Beauxbatons would make her empty soul feel less lonely than usual. That was always nice for Lily, that's why she was so excited.

Walking upstairs too her bedroom, she fell on the silk quilt covers that lay over the bed. She dug her head into her pillow, tossing and turning till she had come too a comfortable position. She lay there still and silent the only sound of a few breaths, that came out off her mouth. Before she knew it she was in the land of the sleeping, dreaming and dreaming.

[I'm not good at RP SAMPLES! Though if it helps I used to play Annabelle King, Trinity Way, Ashlee Carr]

You have traits from each house. But I am thinking... Rouerie!

[trent]

First Name: trent matthew
Last Name: carmody
Age: sixteen
Appearance:

Built with the classic Carmody genes, Trent is both athletic and tall. He tips scales at nearly six foot two – just shy of it, really. After developing a fascination with exercise, he has shaped his body with lean muscles through years of intense jogging and lifting weights. He isn’t very broad-shouldered but slender with narrow hips and a slim waistline. While Trent is not the biggest guy around, his height and obvious control of himself could make for an intimidation factor; younger years of wrestling his elder brother and picking fights has certainly made him agile. Born to the Australian heat, his complexion is fairly dark in comparison to others and rarely burns if he’s outside for any length of time. His hands are rather large (as are his feet, for that matter). Trent has helped his father for several years in the muggle world, fixing cars and other material, which has made his flesh very coarse and tough – the pads of his hands show calluses, proof of a hard day’s work.

Trent prefers to think that he is not an ugly person, but then again he does not naturally assume he is every girl’s ideal of a perfect partner. His bone structure is very prominent with an angular jaw, high cheekbones, and short forehead. That square jaw of his is what really gives him that debonair feature, though his big bushy brows that hover low over baby blue eyes add a brooding quality. With a fairly large nose and a wide mouth that provides for a dimpled smile, it is no wonder he might charm the ladies with some ease. Even his chestnut colored hair, which usually stays as a mop of shaggy strands, fall into his gaze and might provide a charmed feature. Unfortunately for Trent, he also has one of those faces that could be easily misunderstood. If he does not smile, his expression can be quite dour or severe, and can often make it seem as if he is angry.

In terms of clothes, Trent goes for a casual feel that, in the same breath, shows off what he’s got. Button shirts, faded jeans, jackets, fedoras, sneakers – he feels best in muggle clothing, and typically goes for light colored fabrics. His wizard robes are tailored for him and not that high fashion compared to others.

History:
Hayden and Sydney had a strong bond that a lot of people would be envious over – they had fallen, hard and fast, for each other within the first few minutes. It was the classic ‘love at first sight’ tale; they rushed marriage and neither family thought it would last very long, let alone the thirty-some years they were blissfully together. By the time Trent came into the picture, they were older and established in Australia. Hayden had made himself a successful mechanics business named for his family, which he hoped to pass onto his eldest son, Grady, when the time came. They weren’t wealthy by any means, but comfortable. They were a close-nit bunch, even the children despite the age gaps. Trent was closest to his sister Amelia, though he and Grady often wrestled and joked around too. Trent looked up to his brother, even. He wanted to be just like Grady and his father, who both spent long hours working together in the garage and came home dirty.

Though Sydney embraced her muggle heritage more than her magical, the woman did not hide her abnormality from her husband. Hayden came to know of her unique abilities very early on in their relationship, and while the thought of it was difficult to grasp, he learned to accept it too. That’s what love could do for a couple, of course. Unfortunately, neither of Trent’s elder siblings showed signs of magic; they weren’t in possession of their mother’s talent and so the family naturally assumed the youngest boy would be the same. Trent had showed no significant signs himself, and so the Carmody family settled into a life amongst the muggles. Hayden often had his boys work alongside him in the shop, teaching them unique tricks and the entire dynamics of cars. Fortune struck the family through their hard work and dedication; Hayden was able to open a other branches of Carmody Mechanics in other cities and reaped the benefits from them.

Tragedy struck the small family when Sydney’s father gave news of her mother’s illness. The woman’s old age had finally taken its toll on her fragile body and it was assumed she would not live much longer. With this in mind, Hayden and Sydney picked up their family and moved them to where her parents were. The house was big enough to take in everyone and then some, magically enhanced to have spacious surroundings so that no one would be uncomfortable. Trent was introduced to a fairly new lifestyle, as his mother rarely engaged in magic herself back home – they lived too close to muggle neighbors and she had never been one to flaunt her talents anyway. He was intrigued, to say the least, at how his grandparents lived. Nearly everything worked by way of wand! His enthusiasm was halted when Sydney’s mother passed away before Trent’s fourteenth birthday – she missed it by a week, actually. They didn’t celebrate his birthday; instead, the family spent time arranging the funeral and paying proper respect. At first, everyone was numbed. Trent stared at his grandmother’s casket for an hour, disbelieving that such a vivacious lady could have been taken away so quickly. Sydney, of course, bore the worst of it. Her grief was public knowledge, though her father helped to smooth over the gaping hole.

Grady and Amelia chose to return to Australia. Grady took on the family business there for Hayden, and Amelia had her own life with a man she was engaged to. Trent was too young to make his own decision, and frankly, he didn’t want to remain where his grandmother’s memory was around every corner either. He also didn’t want to leave anyone else. The family decided to settle there in France, so that Sydney could keep close contact with her father. With the help of her cousin, Hayden secured an estate with several acres of land (so that they could breed horses, as they had back in Australia). Within a few months, he began a new Carmody Mechanics, thinking he could lose himself in work. And he did – Hayden spent long hours slaving away for quality work. Trent joined him often for the same reasons; he would come home, covered in oil and grease, happy that he had exhausted himself.

It came as a shock to everyone that Trent finally showed signs of magic before his sixteenth birthday. The sign was simple – a wrench had floated towards him upon command on a particularly lazy day, and it seemed that days later he had already received acceptance to this school Beauxbatons. His grandfather later told him that he and his wife had attended that very school, and encouraged him to take the opportunity. Sydney did, as well. While his mother wasn’t quite so heavily influenced by her own wizarding background, she did not want to hold back any of her children from experiencing what she had gotten to experience. Once his father gave the nod of approval, Trent was off to his new school with all of his supplies and a very open mind.

Personality:
Deep down, once you get past the rough exterior and on his good side, Trent can be a pretty swell guy and fun friend. His humor is grand, though sometimes he can pick on stuff that other people probably don’t think is that funny. He is loyal so long as people don’t start expecting stuff out of him – especially if they want him to change. Also, pity parties are a big no-no for Trent. He loathes people who either want to complain of their situations, or “sympathize” with his. In his mind, no one can really understand what he is going through and he’d rather not be offended by something attempting to step into his shoes.

Otherwise, Trent is blunt and honest. He says what is on his mind and usually provides unnecessary commentary of how he feels on a situation. Sometimes, he does this to purposely annoy another if he knows how to push their buttons – though, it is all in good sport. Trent doesn’t actually mean any harm by what he says. In fact, the guy is rather careless in that fashion. He sometimes says what people expect to hear, or want to hear; he gives them what they want and meanwhile, whatever he is spewing forth probably means absolutely nothing to him personally. This is especially true for relationships. Trent is known to spin tales that he understands will endear the girl to him. It isn’t that he lies (though if that needs to be done, he will since his honesty only pertains to his thoughts of a situation), he simply embellishes and exaggerates until they consider him the greatest thing to walk the earth.

Trent is a cocky, confident sort, mostly because he thinks it will attract people to him and he can enjoy himself when centered with such attention. Trent is as outspoken as he is observant. Its in his nature to shut his mouth and pay attention, which he can do fairly well. Things rarely escape his notice, unless his interest in the matter is unnecessary. He gives equal amount of time digesting a situation and (as mentioned before) providing commentary. Subtleties are his strong point – Trent’s overactive imagination can formulate many ideas around a certain subject until he merely ends up assuming which one is most likely. He spends an extraordinary amount of time dissecting others, and their behavior. It’s all he’s done his entire life anyway. Trent knows within the first few minutes of meeting a person whether or not he can even tolerate them. His behavior towards this unfortunate depends upon the judgment he makes. He is not one to form relationships of any kind – in an old-fashioned way; Trent believes if love ever happens for him, it will hit him when he first meets the girl. He seriously doubts he will ever meet a girl worthwhile to chase, and therefore just uses whatever a lady offers him until the passion between them has died. Though, truth be told, after witnessing what his father had with his mother, Trent’s a little afraid of true commitment. He won’t do any good to his “lover” if he can’t see his ring on her finger, and doesn’t see the sense in causing unnecessary heartache (even though he seems oblivious to the hearts he’s already breaking).

He is also a very argumentative and confrontational person. Trent gets very defensive of himself; he does not like to delve into his personal issues, whether he knows you or not. He can get downright surly to those who are relentless, continually pushing for him to open up. Trent isn’t the nicest person out there – he is like a hermit, sheltering himself from the world and refusing to let anyone in to convince him he can be anything different. His language can get colorful, especially when his temper flares (which is actually quite easy to rile). Whenever he flies off the handle, it can be a destructive thing to either the person or environment he’s around at the time. Now, Trent would never hit a woman, but he’s got no issues with decking a man who thinks to try his patience, even if the guy can bloody him to a pulp. He will welcome the chance to be flattened, really, as it would take his mind off things. But Trent often throws or breaks things as well when he’s tantruming, and therefore casualties can be had.

Sample RP:
He took a little more care than usual while dressing. Trent stood in front of his closet, frowning at his typical t-shirts. He sniffed one and rubbed the back of his neck; he’d have to do laundry soon… The boy rifled past a few more shirts, eventually deciding on a white button-down, gray vest, and some clean pants. Trent lifted his chin as regarded himself in the mirror, slipping the last few buttons into their hole before tugging the material down snugly over his chest. He thought he looked great, especially for going to some restaurant. However, he was a strong believer in not knowing where the night could take him. There was no harm in having standards for himself…

Trent perched on his bed once again, sliding on some socks and shoes and then getting to his feet to tighten the belt around his waist. “Aye, ya look good,” he smirked towards his reflection, a little cockiness brightening his eyes. He patted the mop on his head and then grabbed his hat, pushing it onto his head at a debonair angle. “Where’s me wallet?” He turned, snatching it off the dresser and pocketed while leaving the house altogether. He had taken enough time to doll himself up, really. It was time to get some good old food into his system and maybe it would help to loosen him up. Lately, he seemed to be slipping more and more into a shell of nothing. Trent didn’t want to go out like that; he wanted to enjoy what he could while it lasted.

It was a short walk down to the harbor. He entered the place, pushing roughly past another bloke trying to slide out when he was going in. Trent ignored the foul curse the guy slung at his back and wandered through the crowd. His eyes picked over the patrons inside, none of them really sticking out to him. Though, why he was looking for someone he’d met briefly seemed pretty ridiculous to him. She had been pulling his leg, he knew. Being a tease like the rest of the girl population. Still, Trent couldn’t quite get the feeling that he dressed to impress for nothing very important but a bloody sandwich. He sidled to the counter and settled upon a free stool, knocking his knuckles against the counter to gain the bartender’s attention.

Blue eyes connected with the chubby man’s and Trent’s brow rose some. “Give me a soda, aye?” Seconds later, a bottle was slung his way and he caught it effortlessly, already taking a few large swallows from the contents. Yeah, that was a cola. Though Trent hadn’t exactly traveled to any place outside of Australia, he just knew that the cola here had to beat the crud out of the other continents’ wimpy copycats. There here was a man’s soda. Trent smirked to himself, glancing down at the glossed surface of the bar. He leaned back, rolling the ends of his long-sleeved shirt to his elbows and prepared for a long, lonely night of food and music. The song playing now wasn’t that great, but it blocked out most of the chatter around him and helped him to forget he was alone just then.

Definitely Sournois!

[strawberry14]

FIRST NAME: Alec.
LAST NAME: Georgi.
AGE: 20
APPEARANCE:

Face: Once he hit a certain age he was more noticed and had vast changes in his expressions. Alec has a handsome yet clean face. The components of his face are clear and non broken out. Its tan yet his skin tone is Caucasian, but not to white. He has very few freckles but only in certain spots on his body. He has dark brown hair that is also curly yet wavy to an extent where it looks like it has a controlled curly style to it.
Body: Alec is very muscular and well fit. He has a figure that is sooted for skinny type jeans and more on the tight side of shorts. Preferably button down long sleeve shirts, short sleeve shirts, or V necks. Alec also likes glimmered and shinier shoes that would go with the rest of the outfit. He doesn't have the biggest feet in the world, but they are quite average for his age. He also prefers to wear belts with all of his outfits.

HISTORY:

Age 4: Alec never really had a mother. At least never had a mother to the extent that he would ever remember any of the good memories that they would have shared as a family. At age four Alec was playing outside his apartment building with his father and while his father was watching him Alec turned around and asked his father kindly. " Where's mommy." After that day in the parking lot his father would never forget that moment. Age four was when Alec was old enough to wonder where his mother had been since he doesn't call out mommy when he wants his mom when she is not there.
Age 7: When Alec was age seven he and his father were at a Philadelphia baseball game and he was with his father as usual, but after a while when they would go to the games Alec's father would leave and have someone he never even knew watching him and that made him scared that his father would never come back to get him at the end of the game. After that very moment when he never saw his father again. At first Alec thought that he was going to come back but when the stadium was completely empty he would sit there with a guard. When the guard left him alone he would cry, and the same old lady would always be watching him from a distance. Just staring at him the old lady would come and take care of him and take him home. Alec's father would be at home. He would walk into the door of the front door step and his father would never notice that he was home. One day the next year the old lady and Alec meet up in the park and they would sit on the swings and share conversation with each other until he could hear his father calling out his name and making it seem like his father actually cared about Alec one bit. After a while the old lady revealed that her name was Alia, but Alec would just call her grandma Ala.
The Rest: The Rest of his life until Alec Georgi was out of the house in his own life Alec had a better life without his father. He never went back to visit any of his family because it was obvious that he really didn't any have any family to go back to. Alec is still living his life as almost old enough to drink. He is now twenty years of age.

[/size]
PERSONALITY:

Athletic: Athletic is one of the many words that describe Alec Georgi. It is as you know, his body is well massive, strong, built for athletic sports. Alec's life long dream was to get a scholarship in baseball, but that dream didn't last a long time. One day while at baseball practice, the football coach from the same high school was watching in because he needed a quarterback for the football team this year, so the coach thought that he could still one from the baseball team with a good arm. Sure enough Alec was noticed and was offered a scholarship and to be the quarterback on the football team.
Procrastinator: Alec is also the word procrastinator. He is very good in school, but he always seems to get by because he will do everything at the last minute and do it right of course, but he always had something to do that was always more important than his homework which nothing IS more important than homework and all kinds of school work. The only thing he would do at the last second is his sports. Alec has a lot of dedication to his athletic life and he knows that is what is going to get him in to a great college is his athletic abilities.
Trustworthy: In every jock and some sort of person that is really famous and popular in one selves school, there is always one good part way deep inside his or her body and that trait is trustworthiness. Alec would be the bad boy most of the time, but then would come across a time in his life when he believes in being trusting to others and to own there friendship. Alec honors that in all of his fame and popularity.

SAMPLE RP:

Alec Georgi was an ordinary guy with a lot of drama. It all started with one girl that made his life a lot different and similar at the same time. The one girls name happened to be a peaceful yet most evil name in the whole world. Her name was Erica, she was the hottest babe in the school. Well at least that is what the whole school says. She wasn't popular very much at all. She just had the faintest smile and a great body and even better looking legs. Everyone in the school wanted to have a Chance to go out with her, but she was very picky with things and she had to have the right guy for her or she just wouldn't be happy. Erica didn't date people, but she just used them into liking her and then rips there hearts out along the way. No one would ever believe what other people tell them about Erica, for example if a guy that had already been dumped or broken up with they would try to tell other people that she was not good for anyone, but no one would believe that because of her fabulous looks and charms. So everyone would at least fall for her once in there life and get there heart broken. Alec didn't know any of this so he was really in for a treat after they had ever gotten together.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

Hmmm, kinda difficult, but I am thinking... Rouerie

[alec]

tristian blase zamora.

sixteen.

the zamora's are an interesting breed, blue blooded and proud of it they circulate in the most elite circles of the wizarding class, most of them are arrogant and feel an extreme desire that burns in their bones that wills them to succeed. his parents met at a social function which is really only a classy term to describe one of the parties where parents and guardians hook up their pure blooded and beautiful offspring. his mother, charlotte blase ince was in full spring bloom when she was offered many hands in marriage. she was a no more than a girl really when she was sold to the highest bidder, love was a foreign concept to these too. however when charles gregory zamora set eyes on the chestnut haired beauty he may have fallen in lust for just a moment. less than a year later they were paired and married and sent off to spain for their honeymoon, a year later alice reid zamora. she was a dancer from the start, ribbons in her blonde hair she was token child chuck had wanted, however he still needed a boy to carry on the family name. a long five years later, tristian was born.

he took after his mother and maternal grandfather all green eyes, pale skins and soft chestnut hair. he looked nothing like his father, physical features weren't as pleasing to chuck as his growing sons personality. he was a pretty boy at heart, his job as the zamoras heir wasn't hard. he was like his father, strong willed and dedicated. he learned to despise muggles and love beautiful girls. the truth is at times, his attention waned, he wasn't interesting in school or magic as much as he was in his reputation. his parents threatened to send him to an all boys school if he didn't sharpen up and sharpen up he did. his family has been in sournois house for centuries and he wasn't about let that change. at times he can be a brat, he has never come across something that he couldn't have. he isn't interesting in reading books or doing something important with his life other than talking to people. he's a bit of hypocrite actually, he wants to do things but they don't necessarily have to be productive or even life changing. he just believes that life shouldn't go to waste, he doesn't spend his nights at home when he could be with his friends. he is sociable and knows how to impress, especially his father. there is no disappointment in that home, until charlotte got bored.

the year tristian enter beauxbatons, his mother ran away to their beach house with what muggles would call the "pool boy" or the "gardener". tristian prefers to refer to him as "the servant" or when the situation calls for it, "the bane of his existence". even if his parents were never in love, that didn't stop his father from tracking his adulterous wife down, he wasn't about to be made a fool of like that, unfortunately the auras got him before he could do any serious damage. they all now live their life as normal, treating charlotte as less than a ghost and more of a dream. tristian was disappointed in his mother and stood by his father throughout it all, he secretly wonders if his father will manage without him while he is away at school. until his mothers.. event his life was relatively uneventful. he learned a bit, he played a bit and had a whole lot of fun. his life was pretty easy going, as long as you don't get in too much trouble or revel any of the families deep dark secrets you're a straight shot to success.

tristian is pretty uncomplicated, his most defining features (the ones that he shows to the world on a regular basis) are his straight forward nature, he is sometimes painfully honesty and his loyalty. he won't cut you down purposely but if the truth hurt lies hurt even more. perhaps he was born with it or maybe because of his mothers deception he can't stand a liar. the downside of this, if you don't consider getting your feelings hurt once in a while as a down side is that he expects perhaps wrongly, the same amount of honest from everyone in return. if you lie to him, you will suffer the consequences. he can hold a grudge for a good long time, it is unrelenting. he doesn't have a great temper and you don't need to worry about sparing his feelings, he can handle it. sometimes he expects too much of the people around him.

it wouldn't be true to call him the nicest person in the world but he isn't purposely harsh either. basically he is who he is and he is proud of it, he is proud of his heritage himself and his family. if you bring up the topic of his mother he might punch you in the face but he will never insult her so it would be wrong of you too try and goad him about it. he doesn't hate muggles or muggle borns but he has been raised as someone who things himself as above them. like candy compared to veggitables to a child, you know who he would stand by if the time came. so yes, he isn't the most open minded person but he has been in a very closed off environment for most of his life, no one really knows how he will react to the world of beauxbatons.

sometimes not all together shocking is that he is a very loving person, not in the gooey way but perhaps in the passionate way. he adores pretty girls but he can find something to love in anyone. he appreciates talent of any kind, especially when it comes in the form of dedication which he can easily relate to. his motto is "if you're thinking about it, it's already too late" he feels that he always need to be in motion, keep moving and keep doing. his secret is that he is terribly boring, if you don't give him something to do, somewhere to be or something to elicit his muse then he can barely hold up a conversation. he fills his life with events for this purpose, he desperately wants to be interesting.

[emilie]

First Name: Émilie
Last Name: Dupuis
Age: Thirteen
Appearance:

History:

Emilie was born to Isabelle and Olivier Dupuis in Baileul, near the Belgian border. She was their first child and brought much joy to the household, however the joy was to be short lived. When Emilie was four Isabelle disappeared from their lives forever. Unknown to Olivier Isabelle was in fact a witch, she had never told her family her true origins as she was scared of bringing them into her world. Olivier was left to bring Emilie up on his own, he did his best raising her, but he was not prepared for the strange events that were to come.

Emilie grew up shy and reserved, in school she was often picked on and thats when the trouble started. She found that odd things would happen when ever she was scared, Objects would move, things would appear and disappear out of nowhere. As time went on she started blaming herself for her Mothers disappearance, maybe she had been the cause for all the pain in her and her fathers eyes. She began to get more and more withdrawn and no matter what her father did nothing could help her see the truth, that nothing was her fault.

As the switch between schools loomed closer Emilie turned her thoughts and frustrations to music. Pouring her feelings into her music. Her father was thrilled to finally see her enjoy something, even if it was brought on by her desperation. As the holidays started a letter arrived for her from one of her mothers old friends. She was unsure why they had written to her after so long. The letter explained to Emilie that her mother had been involved in something that at the time she could not explain to them, but her mother was a witch. Before Isabelle left she had enrolled Emilie to the Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft... Emilie and her father thought it was all some sick joke, until a few days later a letter arrived, by Owl. She didn't know what was to come in the future, but Emilie was sure she would finally be able to get the answers that she had been searching for.

Personality:

Emilie is shy and reserved, she never really had any friends growing up in the muggle world and she feels a little intimidated about being thrust into the world of magic. She is however intelligent and creative, turning her sorrow and fear into music is what helps her cope through stressful situations. She is however determined to work hard and prove herself in this new life that has been chosen for her.

The years of solitude has left her social skills to have something to be desired, however that doesnt mean she doesnt try. Her shy exterior is fighting against her strong will to break old habits of the past. At school she was often passive and did everything she was told by everyone. She had no real niche that she fitted into, she was smart but she never boasted about it. She is highly secretive and never let anyone know about her past and family, it takes a long time for her to trust people, but when it comes to it Emilie is a loyal and thoughtful friend, if seen as a little un cool.

She wants to discover the new her in her new school and hopes that Beauxbatons will bring out her stronger and talented side. She doesn't want her lack of knowledge or fear of the unknown to stop her find out more about the hidden life her mother lead before meeting her father. She hopes that in time she will no longer be the shy withdrawn creature that her 'muggle'class mates knew, but a new confident person who can finally relax and socialize with new friends.


Sample RP:

Emilie let her slender fingers run over the ivory of the piano keys softly as she started playing a sorrowful tune. It was haunting, letting her sorrow for her lost mother flow through her body and into her fingers. She had received the letter from Beauxbatons a few days earlier and it had taken some time to adjust. On top the piano sat a photo of her mother, had she really been a great witch? Did that single fact hold the answers to Emilie's troubled life? She was still half convinced it was all a joke. Her mothers friend Rachelle was coming down to take her to get all here things... A wand, her cloaks, her books. The music hiccuped a little as Emilie laughed out loud, right of course she was going to a school of magic.

She shook her head and stopped playing as she heard her father enter the room. She knew all of this was digging up things in both their paths, he certainly had no idea what all of this was about. 'Father...' She looked to him, her eyes searching his sad face and wandering down to a small box he held in his hands. She had never seen the box before, it was pretty. He sighed and walked to her placing the box in her hands 'Emilie... It is time perhaps I gave you this, a box from your mother. She always said if anything happened you were to open it when you reached thirteen.'

Emilie took the box from him, she opened the lid and inside was a long, thin, tightly wrapped package. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up and slowly broke the seal on the wrapping, opening the package up. Within was a long shaped piece of wood with a small note wrapped around it. she slowly unfolded the note and read as tears rolled down her cheeks.

'Emilie... I knew from the moment you were born you were destined for great things. This wand is yours, I know that it will suit you well. I never wanted to drag you into my world but perhaps there will be no choice.

Bisous

Isabelle'

Emile took the wand in her hand and as she did she felt a warmth run through her. Perhaps her mother was right, perhaps she was destined for greater things. However she knew now that only time would tell.

Could you please expand on her personality a little bit?

Expanded, hope its okay :s

Must be Rouerie!

[michelle1993]

First Name: Hope
Last Name: Benedict
Age: 11

Appearance: She is skinny and short. She has long bright blond hair, Her eyes are blue and hazel. She has no freckles. She wears a polka-dot pink shirt with dark skinny jeans. Sometimes, she wears skirts of black or pink or white. She wears shirts of all colors but she just loves the color pink.

History: Hope comes from an all witch and wizard family and she is proud to be a witch. She has no brothers or sisters but she really wants one. Her life has been long and tragic. First, her father died in an accident. Then both sets of grandparents died. One of them had been murdered by a Muggle. Another had been using drugs. The other two died of natural causes.
Her mother has been raising her since the day her father died on that tragic day. Her mother began dating and then was soon married when Hope was eight. Now, they are one small happy family. Her new father is also a wizard. He works at the Ministry of Magic. Her mother is a stay-at-home mom. Then, when Hope turned eleven, she got a letter from Beauxbatons. She got accepted to go to the school. She is now counting off the days until she starts school at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

Personality: Hope is a very creative girl of 11 and loves to dance and sing to the wind. She also loves to draw pretty art work and loved displaying them for all to see. She recently began selling them at auctions and became very rich. Hope loves reading as well. She can read up to five books at a time. She loves to sing songs about the nature and her feelings.

Sample RP:

Hope Benedict was wandering around the corridor when all of a sudden CRASH! CRASH! she ran toward the noise and was surprised to see the nurse out of her office. Hope immediately ran and scooped down to pick up the fallen supplies. The nurse was surprised and pleased to see someone was helping her. After Hope had finished, the nurse gave her fifteen points for helping her out.
As Hope went back to her common room, she mused that the nurse was actually a nice person than she was portrayed to be. Hope wanted to go to bed but she had lots of homework to do. She got out her homework for Potions and Herbology. Then she set to work on her homework. When she was finished with both assignments, Hope began to pack up. When she had finished packing up, she went to the Great Hall to eat dinner.
When she arrived at the Great Hall, she was surprised that she was early. She sat down at her table and waited for the rest of the school to arrive. when at last the school began to arrive, Hope looked for her friend and saw her immediately. She waved her friend down and scooted over so that her friend could sit next to her. Then dinner arrived magically. Hope and her friend talked about their classes and their first day of school. When dinner was over, Hope and her friend walked out of the Great Hall and toward their common room.
When they arrived, her friend wandered off to go to bed and do homework. Hope, however, chose to sit on one of the comfy armchairs in front of the fire place. After about fifteen minutes, Hope got up and walked to the girls' dormitories. She walked to her bed and undressed. Then she got into pajamas and slipped into her bed. She closed her eyes and immediately went to sleep.


Must be Cossu!

[sander]

FIRST NAME
Lysander ‘Sander’ James

LAST NAME
Ackles

AGE
Sixteen

APPEARENCE
Sander is a noticeably handsome young man, stepping into the blond haired blue eyes frame, a look that works very well for him. This trend comes from his mother’s side, his hair a platinum shade and the eyes a light blue, only darkened by a lack of light. His hair is maybe longer than the usual short style on a boy, and it’s not uncommon to see it pulled in different ways. Sometime she’ll have his bangs down, but usually he just pushes his hair back. Lysander has a good-looking face with finely shaped features. Nothing seems out of place, slightly full lips balanced out by a strong jaw. He has an innocent look about him, especially when he chooses to remain clean shaven. Build wise he’s unlikely to stretch over other males his age, quite average in his height, and has a healthy, toned build.

Style-wise he knows quite clearly what suits him and what doesn’t, and chooses a more relaxed style of clothing. Usually he can be seen in slimmer jeans paired with plain tees and casual shirts. Though he never looks like a slacker, even in tracksuit bottoms.

HISTORY
Lysander James Ackles was born into a more relaxed pure-blood family, one that cared much more for their own family well being rather than their status in the wizarding world. Both his parents, Nicholas and Rosaline came from contrasting ends of the pure-blood scale. Naturally, when Rosaline chose to marry Nicholas, though her parents had to begrudgingly respect the fact she’d married a pure blood, their wealthy ideals put them vastly against Nicholas Ackles and all his family had to offer. Lower class. A surname stripped of French charm and living on a Muggle street? The in-laws were doomed to dislike. However, it was when the first child, Peach, was born that the more stuck up Desmarais’s stiffer hearts melted, even more so upon seeing their grandson, Lysander for the first time. The Desmarais’s couldn’t refuse to be in their grandchildren’s lives, and were considerably more kind to Nicholas in return. It was clear from the start that a beautiful couple could only have beautiful children.

Growing up was a relaxed affair in the Ackles household. Nicholas, the father of the bunch was a magical Zoologist, his explorations and investigations taking him everywhere, searching for creatures both innocent and deadly. At times it was a dangerous profession (Rosaline almost died when told Nicholas was to look for Lethifolds), but he was extremely talented in this field. Naturally his family moved with him, taking up residence in the nearest towns.

It was when Lysander was ten that his father announced a solo month long expedition, an ‘Interview with a Vampire’ he’d proudly declared. Yet a month came, and swiftly went, passing into more months until it was quite obvious Nicholas Ackles wasn’t destined to return. It was the most harrowing experience for the family, Rosaline becoming so filled with nerves that the family was plucked from their home and taken under the wings of their French Grandparents. Whilst their mother was rightly distraught, Lysander and Peach however were lured from grief by the benefits of living under a far wealthier roof. His grandparents spoiled him and his sister, though they never grew to be snobbish, their mother soon gained her bearings enough to make sure of that. Months turned into years and their father had not returned, but life moved on, accustomed to a more luxurious and settled life.

During this time Lysander learned much about himself, the most prominent his attraction to the same sex. He never questions this attraction, nor was he ashamed of it, having always been raised with an open mind. Yet he voice his sexuality to his sister, who equally assured him that to be more inclined to fancy his sex was entirely okay, that there was nothing too be confused about nor embarrassed about. They grew a lot closer after the revelation, fought a lot less more and came to a softer understanding. Naturally the rest of his family found out, his grandmother had always been the snooping type, thought there was no disdain about Lysander’s sexuality. Though Peach was always the most welcoming about it, even going as far to scour her friends and his for any hints that they might be meat and two veg inclined.

Four years had passed since Nicholas Ackles disappeared, yet one night he stumbled into the mansion of the Desmarais’s. Yet he’d changed, frighteningly so. Open armed he greeted the family, a crooked smile sharp, skin paled to a striking white, eyes glazed by a red hue. It was only her parents that stopped Rosaline Ackles leaping into the arms of a vampire. For that was what he had become. His eyes were filled with hunger didn’t he see what threat he posed to the welfare of his children? It was a wrong decision, to return in this state. The welfare of their child and grandchildren had the Desmarais’s turn their daughter’s husband away, so that they could be safe.

He did return, against the warnings, restrained and far more composed, promising an explanation and then to leave, for the welfare and safety. Nicholas told his story how he’d found the Vampire clan, only to stumble across them consumed by hunger. It was luck that he’d been turned, only the actions of the clan’s leader, able to stave off the hunger, saving him from being drained to lifelessness. He had to stay there, to adjust to a burning hunger. He’d always thought of them, Rosalina, Peach and Lysander – always. Yet he’d overestimated his control, and knew that even now he pushed his limits. But he vowed to keep in contact, even if for only short breezes at a time. Nicholas kept to his word, visiting whenever he felt restrained enough to do so, yet always under watch from their grandparents, wands held at their sides, ready to be wielded.

Suspicion always lingers when Nicholas comes to reunite, though there is an acceptance, he is, unquestionably, part of their lives. At sixteen Lysander received an acceptance to Beauxbatons, the most normal occurrence in a while. It was only natural 5to accept the invite, having always been magically inclined. Sander’s not really too sure what he’ll find at Beauxbatons, but that’s part of the appeal.



PERSONALITY

CALM - -
What’s probably most noticeable about Lysander is that he’s a fairly laid back kind of guy, never one to be ranting his head off in a particularly stressful situation. He’s a very composed person, and, though at times he gets very frustrated, he can swallow it long enough to usually figure out a solution to his problems. Confrontation is something that he also faces with a more tranquil approach, probably much to the annoyance of a more aggressive sparring partner. He’s never been one to mouth off at another unless he can’t help it, and should you ever get into an argument with the young man he’ll do his best effort to walk away before his annoyance boils to a point where it just has to explode (at which point he has a particularly venomous tongue). Fortunately he rarely finds himself in argumentative situations, and when he’s on the outskirts on such he’ll always be the first to try and resolve the situation and mellow the confrontation out.

SUPPORTIVE - -
When others are facing problems and difficulties, Sander is always someone who would offer to help resolve those problems in any way that he possibly could. He’s just a friendly guy really, and seeing others upset never reflects that well onto his own person. Empathetic to a certain point, he has a knack for knowing when even the most hidden people are less than happy, and approaches support gently, to break others into a point where they feel comfortable enough to trust him, to vent out their feelings. He’s the time to see someone cry and tell them that they can talk all about it to him, and they’re words will never ever spread further than himself. This is very true. Lysander Ackles is trustworthy, and will keep any personal knowledge spoken to him just that, personal, unless he thinks there’s a danger involved. He only seeks to help others, that’s it.

OPTIMISTIC - -
The glass is always half full with Sander, he’s just never really been a negative person, always in the mind frame that its better to look on the bright side of things, rather than linger on the bad. He’s very much the type to, in a dire situation, to spew some motivational slogan, just to keep up morale and steer things away from anything dreary and negative. He is not, however, someone who is optimistic to the point that you just want to shoot them because of their perkiness; he’s no where near that bad. Fortunately his optimism is balanced out by a good does of reality. He’s in touch with realism, and whilst positive about things, still remains down to earth.

OPEN - -
He’s never really been one to clam up about himself. If someone asks what’s wrong, he’ll just tell them, perhaps not every little detail, but Lysander’s not going to try and pass things off as being hunky dory as they are – because he gives others credit, they’re not stupid, so don’t treat them as such. The same applies to anyone curious to him or his history. Obviously he doesn’t go around Beauxbatons flaunting the fact he is in fact gay, or that there’s always a fear his dad with try and eat him, but if someone should enquire, Sander won’t try to divert the situation. He’s found people who are reclusive about themselves never really seem to welcome a relationship, plus he see’s no shame in telling others things, as long as telling won’t damage he or the ones he cares about.
Honesty is always a valued trait, he respects other who have it, he himself being a wielder of the attribute. But he uses a kinder sort of honesty, being one to try and lesson a bunt truth, to make it seem nicer. Maybe sometimes a harsh truth is needed, but he’s never been one who can bring themselves to give so, out of fear for offending.

NAÏVE? - -
A lot of people think that Lysander has a sort of innocence about him, even from looks alone. Why wouldn’t they? Get him into a bitchy conversation and he’d be the first to try and move the conversation away from talking about others. He never would willingly talk bad about someone else, nor does he have any reputation for being particularly reckless. This supposed innocence, however, is a wrong assumption to make about the Ackles. He can easily slip into a more mischievous skin, a drinker and partier at the drop of the hat. It’s just that usually he’s pretty sensible so people usually assume he goes out of his way to keep this good little image. But he’s not someone to retire from a good time. In fact, he can surprise people with just how adventurous he can be.

MALE - -
Yes, it can be assured that he is male, it has been staring him in the face for sixteen years already. And, like any other of his sex he’s red blooded, meaning that he doesn’t mind getting to know others on a closer level. Course there is the fact that he’s homosexual, so that probably give shim slim pickings, but of course like any other teenage boy he has thoughts and feelings driven by attraction. Thing is though, he’s not noticeably flamboyantly gay (no stereotypes here my friend), and has a habit of complimenting girls. Though only having an appreciation of the beauty of the female sex, sometimes it can appear as though he’s charming the fairer sex, though he really doesn’t mean to appear to be flirting, because, yeah, he’s not digging girls at all. Course even if he does fancy guys, he’s not stupid, he’s hardly going to get up close to someone who’s straight is he.



SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
The form sat up, arms stretching overhead into a yawn that was so commonly brought by the beginnings of awakening. For a moment Lysander rubbed his eyes, clearing the light pools from the sleet of a good nights sleep. God he hated the mornings, maybe it was the only thing his optimism didn’t stretch too. The guy sat for a few moments, scratching his head silently whilst he watched the other sin his dormitory likewise just start to get up. One by one he heard the slams of palms against alarm clocks, ceasing the beeping one by one, It was only when a tired Sander saw the stares of those in his dorm that he too realised his own alarm clock was still making its annoying heralding of the morning. Likewise slamming the small device, he gave a sheepish grin, a slight shrug watching as in response his classmates shook their heads. For real mornings did not gel well with Sander, not at all.

He spent some time focussing on his closet, riffling through the hung clothes with a subtle intensity that allowed him to avoid his own desire to stare at the changing forms of the others. Jeez talk about private schools being a nuisance. Now, he wasn’t one to suddenly jump on another boy, but you know, a peek never hurt here or there. Not that he would though, the last thing he’d ever want was to make another uncomfortable – he was that kind of person. Leaving it until a point where any longer would become suspicious, He soon closed the wardrobe doors before pulling on the jean and t shirt combo.

Following the suit of others he exited down the stairs, striking a bit of morning conversation along the way. “You know I’m not really sure. It’s a nice day out. I was thinking Id probably go for a swim later or something. It’ summer after all,” he’s shrugged, listening likewise to the response of the darker haired boy beside him, who agreed that maybe a swim would be a good idea, or maybe get some Quidditch in. Face grinning in response, Sander nodded before shaking his classmate off (“Might catch you later”) exiting the common room and stepping out into the corridors of Beauxbatons. They weren’t busy, what place was in the morning? The lack of crowding was always a perk in the blonds book, sometimes forcing your way through was a bother.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, lips pursed into a whistle, a cheerier tune to mark a new day. A glance to the left, out of the vast windows of the corridor looking over the grounds, would paint an idyllic scene. That type of day where the sky was a pleasant blue, equally vibrant against green green grass. It was truly a day to seize to full potential, and what better way to start than a fresh cup or orange jui-

The crash was very much obvious, he’d felt the collision of course. Looking up, blue eyes darkened, flashing with an annoyance, though Lysander never cursed, composing himself enough, especially when he noticed the book on the ground. Ever the gentleman he reached down, bending to pick the book up, holding it out to the girl he’d walked into. Whereas Lysander had quite calmly accepted their bump, she obviously hadn’t. The way her eyes accused him, as though he’d walked into her! Technically untrue but, he wouldn’t protest. At he others sigh of disapproval, Sander offered a smile in return. “Sorry about that, I don’t think anyone functions too well in the morning, right?” A light tone, joking even, something to break the ice. There are many ways to start a morning, and a disagreement was never the best way.

[/blockquote]

Hmm. He has a rather tricky personality..but overall..
I'm thinking.. Rouerie.

[danicahart]

First Name:

Danica

Middle Name:

Rashel

Last Name:

Haert

Nick Name:

Dancie

Age:

16

Appearance:


Height/Weight:

5'4 -- 110ILBS

Blood:

Mother: Seer
Father: Vampiric


History:

Danica Haert, was named on April 14th. Sixteen years ago. Her mother's name was Ashlee, and fathers name Canvas.
As a young girl, at least 4, Danica experienced odd happenings in her mind. Seeing things that later happened. At first, she thought of it as a game. Until the day she visioned something horrible. Her mother, dead. She didn't think anything of it until she came home from her friends house and finding her mother dead on the floor, and her father holding the knife that killed her. Scared, Danica tried to get away. But her father caught her quickly. From then on, it was like she was a toy. Used for personal reasons, she was alone in the world. Being exposed to her father in ways that could never be erased from her mind. But finally, something happened. Her visions began once more, and she for saw her father arriving home. She took this advantage and packed her things, she would leave. 12 years old and now on her own, she didn't know where to go. She traveled the streets aimlessly. Helping people who needed her for small fee's, she made it by that way. After a year, 13 years old she found an old coffee shop that was looking to hire. She got the idea, she could get a job. Applying, and getting the job she was one of the happiest kids in the world!

Her first day of work, she was amazing. "A natural" her boss called her. She found nothing special in the matter, but people where impressed. And while working there, she developed a crush on one of the other workers, they called him Wish, because like her, Wish was amazingly fast and good at what he did. Wish wasn't a typical person. He, too, had Vampiric blood. But the difference, was he was a vampire. Full blood, but somehow he contained himself from biting and drinking human blood. When she learned his secret, his shame filled as he told her he had to move onto another work site. Danica pleaded for him to stay, and what he told her: "Dancie... I truly do love you, but you're a mortal." That stuck to her, made her heart ache. So she was forced to let him go. Soon after Wishes departure, she quit. She couldn't stand the hurt. Her visions still came, and what she didn't see was the day she met up with the one she loved. He stood in a field, just standing. Watching the falling sky. Danica was amazed, and she touched his shoulder, and her words froze him. "I love you, too. So make me like you." She was sixteen by this time, and doing as she asked, Wish leaned over and transformed her. The pain was amazing, she couldn't stand it. But eventually, after the long while of pain stopped, she awoke to Wish sitting beside her. She gave a a soft smile, and soon after that, she was strong enough to hunt with him. She soon learned to crave animal blood, but once or twice she got a human. It was a treat, Wish would call it.

Danica was as happy as could be. She would forever be 16 - and forever be with Wish. They had a place to stay. In Ireland, a small house that was perfect for the two. Although now she could not have children, she was happy just being with Wish. She had now her seer powers, and vampiric powers. Three years after her and Wish moved into the little house, she arrived home from a hunting trip alone, and he wasn't there... All was left was a note that still she keeps. Dancie, I'm sorry it ends this way. I'm sorry I left so suddenly, I'm sorry I lead you on. I'm sorry... I did love you, lasting love... but for some reason my heart broke apart from you... I'll leave you the house, I can restart, new! I don't want to hurt you, Dancie... But I did, I know that. Danica screamed a lot that day, and killed a lot that month. She vowed to find him, and kill him. So then, she went on a search. He wasn't in Ireland, she soon learned. So she went to the United States. Another few months passed, and she sat in a coffee shop, and somebody spoke his name. They said refer to him as "Wish" and Danica's heart sank. She stayed in that shoppe for a long while before the man walked out, and she followed. It was dark by the time he reached a small apartment building. And Danica saw the girl he left for. A mortal, beautiful blond hair and slender figure. Danica followed them to their apartment, slinking inside, The two talked a lot, and Danica listened. Wish spoke of her often. Saying how amazing she was, yet Danica didn't believe what he had to say. And when he said he lost love for her, she jumped.

Baring her teeth, she ripped at him and injected her own venom. A struggle; two deaths. And a fire. One body dismembered, and one pale like a ghost. As the firemen pulled in to set the fire, Danica stood atop the burning building. Watching down, and disappearing into the darkness of the night. The night that was only lit by the flames. With her heart avenged, she decided to find somewhere to learn more about life. She found many schools of magic. And for a while, Hogwarts was a place she was living and learning. But then - she learned about Beauxbatons. And her decision was made, at the end of her first year at H.W, she enrolled here.

Personality:

Danica is very trustworthy. Once you tell her something, she refused to let it out to anyone unless she has permission to tell. She's very secretive, not usually opening up to many people since her departure from her family and the deaths of Wish. Although she is somewhat dark, Danica is honest and kind. She won't tell a lie, she speaks her mind on things instead of covering up. And when she needs to, she'll help someone who needs her out. She doesn't like seeing people suffer. If she brands you as an enemy, you can still expect her to help you out when you need her to. But depending on what you did to become an enemy... she might turn evil on you, and when that happens, there will be hell to pay. While broken hearted, she tries to find to good in life. Although sometimes it hard. And when she cant find good? She makes good of a situation.

Danica is empty, she has emotions but love is not one she often shares. She has no dreams anymore, because of what life has lead her to. And she believes she lost her mind a long while ago. When you get to know her, you find she is very funny when she wants to be, although she is also serious. Her funny side is usually hidden by her quiet aspect. So she keeps her mouth shut, because sometimes she opens her mouth about something that is non of her business. But when you mention her name at the wrong time, you'd be dumb not to expect her to get involved. I guess thats bad about her; sometimes to outspoken. And yet sometimes to soft spoken. She also has a hyper side. Like when she drinks anything carbonated or caffeine.

She can get attached, but she doesn't show it through a clingy sense. She shows it through a trusting sense. Trusting people with her inner-most-secrets. She will also seem more or less a little more excited around you, or softer around you instead of cold and sometimes even rude. She is sensitive, and will listen and try and help out the best she can. Its her better part, her sensitivity. Creative, is another thing. She loves to draw, and loves to sing.

More or less, she is very intelligent. She used to be a striaght A student, sometimes getting a B for maybe missing a homework, or maybe one or two bad test grades, but for the most part she is smart. She has her hard parts. Math, is one her of lesser subjects. She isn't used to magic. But she hopes to learn quickly. And going along with being honest, faithful is a good word to use as well. She isn't a drama queen, but ya. Sometimes she causes the drama because people make her. She rarely takes pitty on people, and hates when people feel sympathy for her. Even though she hides it.

Sample RP:

The world around her was large: the grass was pale green. And the poppies and roses scattered around the field as Danica lay her head down, looked at Maria for a moment. Then to Wish. She gave a deep sigh, and moved upwards to speak, "Guys..." he voice was small. Very calm, and yet it was worried. Wish was the first one up, his cold skin touching her back, and his voice matching hers, "What's wrong, Dancie...?" He hoped she was Ok. Danica smiled softly as then Maria got up, she cleared her throat. "You do know... eventually we wont all be together, Maria... you're going to the U.S..." Her blue eyes looked down to her shoes, and she held her knees. Maria nodded, and looked to the sky, wondering. Wish layed back, and chuckled calmly. "But you'll have me, Dancie.." and with that, she layed back with a giggle. Her enjoyment, was Wish. As the day dragged on, the trio talked small talk. About the future, it was an interesting day, truthfully. Until the end, when the sun began to set and the three got up. "Wish - can I go on a hunting trip... alone for a while?" she asked softly, her voice barley above a whisper. He looked down, confused. "Sure." and with that, she took off to the woods. Leaving Wish and Maria. Danica was now thinking, could she ever be happy somewhere else? She loved being here with Wish, she didn't want to leave to go to Asia with him, Ireland was so perfect! Danica stopped dead in the mix of her thinking, seeing a small doe off in the distance. Her eyes narrowed and she gave a small sigh. Positioning herself to launch, and as she did, she saw a young fawn sprint past the doe. She stopped, she couldnt kill a doe with a fawn... it was cruel. So, with another roll of the eyes, she took off in the oposit dirrection.

A few days dragged on once more, and she was still alone. Hungry, she needed blood. And soon found it. A pasture of many cows, she wondered what they tasted like. So, in the dead of night, she aproached a smaller, miserable looking cow. She felt bad as she saw it leaning on one leg, if it was miserable, why keep it alive? The cow's blood smelt stale, but Danica needed something. She took the cows injured leg, and snapped it to make it bellow in pain. It flung to the side in an attempt to flee, but it was soon on the ground. She pet its neck softly, feeling so sad... "It's ok... I'll take the pain away..." her voice was quiet as she but down. Slicing throguh the fat and skin like a knife throug butter, the taste was nasty. But she couldnt stop, she was to thirsty and tired. She lay by the cow after she was done, staring at the sky. The night seemed endless as soon the cool morning arrived. She got up, and bowed her head to the cow, and took off towards where her home and love reside. Not knowing what to expect.

She arived home soon after she had bounded, to notice Wishes car not in the drive way. Her heart felt heavy for a moment, something was wrong. She stepped into the house, Wishes scent was faint. And she wanted to scream, but she didn't know what had happened. She looked at the table, to see a paper. And she picked it up. Dancie, I'm sorry it ends this way. I'm sorry I left so suddenly, I'm sorry I lead you on. I'm sorry... I did love you, lasting love... but for some reason my heart broke apart from you... I'll leave you the house, I can restart, new! I don't want to hurt you, Dancie... But I did, I know that. -- Was all it said. "I gave everything for you!" She screamed. Slamming the paper down, she took off. Her heart now shattered into a million as she called Maria, and even Maria couldnt believe it. "Let me come to America with you, Maria. Yes - I know it." And with that, she packed. She looked at the cage in what was once her and Wishes room, the large, beautifully white cage... it was a symbol of there love. And the white Dove inside was a symbol of there hearts. Danica sniffed, and took the dove out, kissing its body and opening the window. "Be free from these chains of darkness!" she called with a dark voice, thunder rumbling through the area as the dove began its wings. Layter that day, Danica arived at the airport. Her ticket in hand, her and Maria began there journey to find the cruel man who had broken a heart.

-- After they got off the plane, Danica and Maria went for Maria's house. But soon, Danica broke from the two and began her search. The day went slow, and as she arived home, Maria tipped her off. "He might be at a coffee shop," she told Danica. "How do you know?" her voice was scared, so it seemed. "Think about it," and with that, Danica researched all the famous coffee houses. With no luck for a long time, Maria and Danica lost all hope. Until the day Danica stepped foot into Fredricks. Sitting alone, she sipped her expresso. Suddenly hearing a name she loathed. "Call me Wish, m'dear." it said, and her sharp eyes turned. Rage filled them as she wanted to attack then, but she held it in, clenching the table. Danica put her hood up on her black sweatshirt, trying her hardest to hide her irish red hair. A few times, did the male look at her, his charming smile making her want to die. The lust to kill the duo hiding in her as she tapped her fingers, as she waited. Suddenly, she saw the two get up, and she did as well, watching them leave she payed quickly and casually walked out the door, looking around, she noticed them. They where giggling, which hurt. Her teeth bared, as she stalked them. A few times the male looked back, but she hid in the oddest places. She listened to there conversation, getting parts of it at times, she heard her name a few times. And she tightened her fists and grinded her teeth.

It was like a lepored stalking it's pray, the antelope. And finally, they came to a small building. She stared, it was probably where they lived. She followed them inside. Up some stairs, she saw where there door was. As it was shut, Danice had her hand against it, so it didnt shut completely and lock. So, with that she slipped inside. She stepped into the mud room and watched the two sit in a small living room. "Dancie? Oh! She was fantastic, I really liked her. The problem was, she loved me to much. And no matter how much I tried to keep my heart with her... it departed before I could tell her, and when she was gone... I couldnt bare see her again, so I left." His words struck her, almost making her scream a second time. "I just didnt love her, anymore." that was it. Danica launched forward, the girl gasped but Wish didn't have time to react. Danica's body hit him and her fangs latched onto his neck. And she ripped up, hearing him shout. Then she took off for the girl. A second time - latching onto her neck, feeling the explosion of crimson in her mouth. It tasted sweet, and she drank quickly, until she felt her body being thrown. She hit the wall, and looked up, hissing as Wish held the girl. She felt a wave of sadness, but when Wish noticed the girl couldnt be saved, he looked to Danica. "Dancie..." his voice was ashamed, and yet sad. He stood up as Danica groaned, lifting up. "Why?" She asked quietly. Her voice was venomous. He didn't look at her, he kept his eyes away, so he didnt have to see her. He sighed, "Dancie.. Im sorry I left." his whisper didnt phase her, it was like there was no emotion. Her voice came back, cold. "You heartless jerk!" and again she took off at him, the collision hit him and his breath was knocked out of him. He struggled for a moment before a loud crack was herd. She kicked his body, and ran for the kitchen, she grabbed the towels and put them over the stove, lighting it.

She lay a flaming towel over Wishes face, and one over the girls. She took some pitty on the girl, but non on Wish. Suddenly, her mind went blank and she saw red. A truck, and hoses. She knew they'd be coming soon, so she went for the window, leaping out she grabbed the fire escape, leaping onto it she went for the roof. Standing on it as the darkness hid her. Although somewhat visible because of her pale skin. And like she saw, fire trucks began to fly down the street. She stared, laughing evilly. And then, she jumped.

--I hope this is OK. It's been a while since I've RP'ed, so...

Difficult to sort. But.. Must be Rouerie!

[charlottedubois]

First Name: Charlotte Juliet.
Last name: Dubois.
Age: Sixteen.

Appearence:

Personality:

honest an blunt.
when one thinks of someone who is honest or blunt, they might think of someone who is loud and boisterous, and not afraid to express their opinion because they're so damn awesome. charlie is quite a different type of honest, blunt person. the girl speaks her mind, even if it sometimes comes out snide, but she isn't obvious about it. her voice is very soft, and is calm damn near all the time unless her emotions are at their extremes. she tells someone if she thinks their outfit is ugly, if that colour makes them look fat, what she thinks of them. she eve listens in on conversations and gives her two cents in a low, quiet voice from time to time. one simply may not notice this trait of hers because she's not as outspoken or loud as someone who may normally be blunt.

intelligent.
charlotte is a very, very smart girl. she gets the genetic from her father, and isactually quite proud of her intelligence. however, she was put under far too much pressure by her father to be even better than he was, to do damn near perfect on everything. charlie definitely has the brain to be ten times as smart as her father, and ten times as studious. but after six consecutive years of having no social life, or any kind of life at all, because of this expectation of his, charlotte has decided that she may not to the best she can. she may simply do... mediocre.

confusing.
often, people find charlotte very odd and confusing. for six years, the girl didn't give a crap what anyone said to her. she responded politely, in a very quiet voice, but she never got up to play cards, or spend the weekend in hogsmeade, anything that's fun. her life revolved around school, she would talking to the books she was reading, her eyes were intense;y vivid but often void of emotion unless the sentiment was subtle. she has a very calm and peaceful air about her, which sometimes makes people stop and notice her, and other times makes them wonder who the hell she was.

caring and untrusting.
for someone who people think is strange and devoid of emotion, charlotte is actually a very caring woman. she cares for her family very much, and she cares about those around her. though it may not necessarily be obvious, because she doesn't go frolicking in the hay with everyone in around her, she honestly does care about them. when she found out about the dark army, charlie was actually scared for not only her parents and herself, but for her entire school. so although she may seem passive and odd, there is a very much alive and human heart beating in her chest. she is also a fairly untrusting person. her father is a wizard lawyer, and always made it very clear that she should never fully trust someone. she will put her faith in you, as a person, but she will not get herself attached to you so much that she trusts you with her life. this is possibly one of the other reasons why her friends are not plentiful. sure, she's odd and quiet and calm, and she's also untrusting. she wants to believe the best in people, but her father told her never to let herself be fooled by appearances. as this is a year of rebellion against her father, however, this may be subject to change this year. maybe.

gentle and calm.
these traits generally tie in with why people think that charlie is so strange. she has a very calm demeanor most of the time, aside from the eyes. she is a very delicate girl, appearance wise, and her soft voice, difficult-to-read eyes and plain expression often throw people off sometimes. reading and knowing that her father would be happy with her often put her at ease, so when that was all she focussed on, the stress eventually wore off whenever she knew she'd impress him, and a strange calm would envelope her. just as she's calm, charlotte is very gentle. she touches things lightly, she never makes any sudden movements of anything. she's very fluid and soft and calm. she's even gentle in the way she words things. if she wants to say something snide and rude, she'll play it down in a gentle tone so that people miss the true meaning behind it. or if she wants, she'll simply say it and not care how it hurts you, but mostly she prefers to remain gentle and calm. a strange enigma, really, charlie is.

emotional.
despite the calm and emotionless exterior, charlotte has very random and strong emotions. when she feels something, it becomes plain in her eyes if one simply wants to look. if she's happy, there's a happy sparkle, if she's mischievous there's a mischievous smirk in her eyes. she speaks with eloquence most of the time, but if she feels a very intense emotion, depending on what it is her, stature and demeanor can change drastically. but, her emotions at their extremes are hardly temper tantrums or bouncing off of the walls in happiness. she may cry for a little while and express how she feels in a raised volume, perhaps with choice words, or she may get up and do a little happy spin or a light-hearted chuckle. she's fairly unpredictable when it comes to her emotions, but not to an extreme.

History:

the preface.
cherise beauchamp was a simple french girl who loved to be in the country, apart from the madness of paris and cannes, and every other big city in france. her family had a house in town, but cherise always preferred to stay in their country cottage. if she did visit the house, it was never for a very long time. when she was young she lived in the cottage with a caretaker, the lovely old madame ginnie. when she grew older madame ginnie was no longer seen as a caretaker, but as an escort back and forth, from country to town, for cherise.

one fine week in winter, when she was visiting the town, her parents were holding a small dinner party for paris dignifieds, and other hoi polloi. as her parents were hobnobbing before dinner was served, they introduced cherise - now a spinster - to a young man by the name of alexandre dubois. he looked kind enough, and not quite as stuffy as his parents. he was wearing a smart suit and his hair was combed back as neatly as possible. his hair was platinum, as well - something that cherise had never really seen on a male before - though admittedly, she didn't get out of the cottage much.

their parents cunningly placed them beside one another at dinner, noticing how well they got on with each other. dinner was a success, they spoke for hours after the dinner ended, and soon enough the two were head over heels. everyone was happy - they were in love, and cherise's parents were happy that their daughter was in love with a very, very well-off lawyer, son of a famous author. the social climbers that were the beauchamps were more than pleasantly thrilled - they were beside themselves. it wasn't long before the happy couple wed.

the birth.
not long before their marriage, cherise was getting ready to say goodbye to her country cottage. her parents said that she would live in the city with alexandre, and convinced her to put the cottage up for sale (having disowned it themselves a while ago). her property sold for a ridiculous amount, which she was going to use on the upcoming wedding. alexandre convinced her to put the money away for the time being so that they could put it to better use later. on the eve of their wedding, alexandre blindfolded his wife and took her on a carriage ride. the surprise awaiting her was her old country cottage, expanded to the size of a bloody mansion - but her original cottage still remained. alexandre had known how much she loved the cottage, and snatched it off the market so that no one else could place an offer. though she was curious as to how he had renovated so fast. this was this night on which charlie was conceived, and the night on which alexandre dubois told his wife that he was a wizard.

nine months later, on february the sixth, in the year nineteen hundred and sixty, charlotte juliet dubois was brought into the world. it was a home birth, complete with midwife for the entire nine months of cherise's pregnancy until the birth of the baby girl. alexandre and cherise cherished their baby daughter like no other, and began spoiling her at a young age. before she could even ask for anything, her parents doted upon her. it was something charlie had acclimatized to, and her parents continued to dote well into her teenage years.

the life that followed.
charlotte grew up to be a quiet girl, much like her father. quiet in the sense that her voice was very soft and low, and she was very subtle when she spoke. she was quite honest, spoke her opinion - and in fact, spoke a lot - but she was never obvious or obnoxious about anything she said. because she was so like her father, it didn't come as much of a surprise to cherise when she discovered that her baby girl was magical.

she was never really spoiled herself, either. she never asked for things, her parents simply gave. she became used to that - to never having to ask for anything, just receiving. this proved quite a challenge when she first went away to school. her parents still sent her things by owls, but charlotte was learning to survive on her own. she used her parents' money, of course, having none herself, but she was buying things for herself, and she was adjusting to life without her parents around to dote on her.

she also went away to school with a fairly large burden on her back. her father had told her, before she left, that he expected her to be just as studious and hard-working as he had, and that he should see extremely good marks resulting from her first year of schooling. looking up to, and respecting her father as the other magical entity in her family, charlie assured her father that she would not let him down. so she never did. despite not wanting to, the girl did her bloody homework the night it was assigned, for every assignment, read every piece of reading ahead of time, and did everything possible to keep her father happy. she would make friends, she would do what she'd been wanting to do for seven years - while maintaining her grades. how hard could balancing the two be?

RP Sample:

It was not the first time that this particular girl was running away from some beastie that was intent to kill her or eat her or just whap her against a tree until they grew bored. Nope. Charlotte Dubois was always roaming around in the Enchanted Woods, seeming to completely forget that the word ‘enchanted’ was in its name and that a great many deal of unpleasant creatures lurked just inside. She’d come out here to escape, she’d come out here to follow a creature before, she’d come out here with her friends, and she knew that she would continue to come out here until her Beauxbatons days were up. So she hadn’t been especially disturbed when she heard rather loud noises off in the distance, and hadn’t been especially disturbed when those loud noises had come seemingly closer to the clearing that she’d been laying in. No, that hadn’t been a particularly bright idea, but it had seemed harmless at the time, and she knew her way back from here. Yes, it was farther in than one might be comfortable with, but she had nerves of steel. Or so she liked to tell herself.

Right about now, she was cursing those supposed ‘nerves of steel’ and was listening to her heart beat around wildly in her ribcage. It was hard to draw a full breath of air and her knees felt rubbery. Dad would be proud, she thought to herself, for she had run quite a distance as fast as possible and had covered a heck of a lot of ground. Problem was that she hadn’t run in the right direction and had wandered farther into the Forest. Not exactly a place that she wanted to be. Because now it meant that she was lost, well and truly lost, and she doubted whether someone would just suddenly sprout wings and say “Just kidding, here I am!” and tap her with a wand and she would be in her dorm. Nope – that didn’t seem very bloody likely.

Closing her eyes for a second, she forced herself to take a full breath so that the stitch in her side didn’t hurt quite so badly. At least that was the only body part complaining right now, but she gave it about another five minutes before her legs started up that whole seizing up thing. That would be very bad if she didn’t suddenly gain a sense of direction and managed to get herself out. For all she knew, she was running towards the castle or she was running deeper and deeper into a version of hell. The one where you can’t escape and keep searching for something. Great freaking Merlin. She felt herself tremble a bit and tried to force the fear back so that she didn’t entirely lose her head. That would be bad, too, because then she was just a bit of meat waiting around. Opening her eyes again, she strained herself to hear what it was that had been thundering after her. Her head had been racing to figure out what it was and it had drawn a blank, unsurprisingly. Tended to do that at the most inconvenient times, too.

Easing her back away from the tree, she rubbed at a few scrapes that had caught her arms and cheeks. Shallow cuts that didn’t hurt much, but stung quite a lot. That was what made them the most irritating. But if that was the worst she suffered tonight, that was absolutely fine with her. Oh, and torn clothes – yeah, she could deal with that, too. Besides, the noises had faded off and her heart wasn’t beating as frantically against her chest. That was a very good sign, wasn’t it? Yes, yes it was, and she could feel herself easing back against the tree, though this time not with fear. Just with exhaustion and nerves. Nerves were definitely a large part of the trembling she was doing right now. And even that was fading away. A smile managed to appear on her face before it wiped itself completely clean. Noises were fast approaching at a pace that sounded like the beast was sprinting just to find her. Splintering wood from Merlin only knew how far away came down on her like rain and she flinched as a rather sharp and thick piece lodged itself in her arm.

The question to ask herself now was whether she ought to move or remain where she was and pray to every god that there was that the beast didn’t see her. Moving was out, anyways, because it sounded too close now – it would surely hear her and would surely manage to catch her. Standing where she was sounded like a good idea and was the only option left to her. Bloody freaking hell. With a hand clamped over her mouth, she focused on not making a noise, not dragging her foot against the ground, not breathing too loudly. It was then that she finally caught a glimpse of the beast that had been chasing her. Sweet Jesus. It was a troll, a troll that had been running around in the Forest. And by the damage and the sounds and the familiarity of the whole situation, that had been what it was last time she’d gone off for a sprint for her life with Devon. Holy crap. She almost started hyperventilating right there and then found that a bit of her was angry – why the hell was this thing still here?

Silence surrounded the both of them and Charlotte focused hard on keeping herself the quieter of the two. Abruptly, it’s club or maybe it’s arm decided that the trees were all in the way and they went splintering and cracking in two over her head. She made a sound low in her throat that resembled a scream and they both froze. She almost preferred that it had heard her so that it could whap her to death and she could be done with it all. The whole waiting game was beginning to frazzle her a lot more than a little, and her legs returned to that rubbery state they had been in before.

The silence didn’t last long this time and another group of trees were split in half. Branches flew everywhere as well as trunks and she was stunned that she hadn’t yet been knocked unconscious by one of them. The wonder at that soon disappeared as the tree she was standing against was hit and the trunk came down from the tree at an angle, leaving her to press up against it. She felt protected and exposed all at the same time despite the fact that she had another tree not three inches away that acted as a sort of wall.

Of course, however, the bashing of the trees around her didn’t stop. Why on earth would they?

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

Seems like Cossu to me

[charlottedubois]

O.O IT DOUBLE POSTED D=

[sarina♔royal]

First Name:

[/b] [/size][/color]
Sarina
Middle Name:[/b] [/size][/color]
Kaelyn
Last Name:[/b] [/size][/color]
Royal
Nickname:[/b] [/size][/color]
Rina-Lyn
Sex:[/b][/size][/color]
Female
A[/font]ge:[/b] [/size][/color]
16
Blood:[/b] [/size][/color]
Muggle Born
Theme Song:[/b][/size][/color]
Like Me - Girlicious
Family:[/b] [/size][/color]
Clarissa Royal - 38 - Mother - Muggle - Divorced
James Royal - 40 - Father - Muggle - Divorced
Brandon Royal - 16 - Muggle - Twin Brother
Pets:[/b] [/size][/color]
Yorkie - Prince
Goldfish - Mr.Fish
Status:[/b] [/size][/color]
Single
Sexual Orientation:[/b] [/size][/color]
Heterosexual
Apperance:[/b][/size][/color]

Personality:[/b][/size][/color]
Rude-
Since she grew up in a rich home Sarina has always been a little
brat to just about anyone and everyone, her family, people she
doesn't know, and even her manager. Of course this little princess
thinks nothing of her actions and doesn't feel they'll have any
consequences on her life later, But that's where she's wrong,
because of her snobbishness she has pretty much zero friends and
no one really talks to her anymore. Though a lot of the time when
she's rude to someone, typically a girl her age, it's because she's
really just jealous of her in some way and wants to make her feel
bad to make herself feel better about everything.

Sarcastic-
Sarina is very sarcastic because it's really just her way of dealing
with things, her parents clearly have never taught her to do any
better due to their absence after their divorce. She knows it's
wrong but a lot of the time she just can't help herself and seems
to do it almost automatically. It's also another way she tries to
make herself feel better about everything and how she looks by
being mean to others. But other times she just does it for fun, to
see how others will react to it really and a lot of the time she does
it to mess with her older step-brother, who she finds just annoying.

Flirty-
Sarina loves to flirt with guys, all the time. She thinks of it like a
game really, to see how many hearts she can crush in a certain
amount of days, she's played this game since she was in the first
grade, but she never really had anyone to play it with other then
the guys themselves, who clearly weren't in on it. A lot of the
time she is referred to as Aphrodite for her beauty and mind
games when it comes to love as well as her intense jealousy.
Though she mainly did it for attention in the beginning, now she's
not really sure why she does it at all since the game has become
quite dull and predictable. But she also messes with them for the
adoration and to see what they'll do just to have her on their arm.
At one time she had driven a guy so mad with love he burned
down a flower shop just for her because they didn't have her
favorite kind.

Judgmental-
If you don't come from the right family, have the right kind of
clothes or the right amount of money expect to be hated by this
girl. Even though she's a muggle born she can be just as vicious as
the pure bloods when it comes to these kinds of things since
power is really what she desires at the moment, power and
adoration. She never really goes for personality when finding
friends, it's mostly just status and money really. If in the first five
minutes of meeting someone and she doesn't like them sarina will
let them know right away by acting as though they're nothing
but a pile of dirt. she can't stand poor people or even the goody
goodies either, they annoy her so much she just wants to scream
and make their life a living hell.

Vain-
Sarina is the kind of girl who thinks of no one but herself, she even
puts herself before her family and friends all the time and at one
point she almost let her father get stabbed over her. she has that
sort of annoying 'I'm better then you' attitude and lets everyone
know it by rolling her eyes and looking at them as though they're
disgusting creatures, mostly muggles even if her family are some.
And on top of that because she is a famous muggle singer she is
able to have that type of attitude in the muggle world and get
away with it all. Since no one really knows how to act around her
they just tell her she's beautiful and give her stuff, which really is
exactly what she wants. Sarina also thinks she's the sh*t, the
best & most beautiful thing that ever walked the earth.


History:[/b][/size][/color]
Before Birth-
Clarissa & James met at a muggle new years party hosted by their
close friend Gabriella and her husband Darrel. It seemed to be love
at first sight for the two as they kissed right when the new years
fire works shot off. The couple dated on and off again for a few
months due to random arguments they'd have about stupid things
like money and the future. James wanted to get married, but
Clarissa being a free spirit refused because she didn't feel like being
tied down too soon in life and knew that if James loved her then
he'd wait. About a year later Clarissa became pregnant and finally
agreed to marrying James, within a few weeks the couple flew
down to Vegas, said their 'I Do's and a year later she gave birth to
twins, a girl which she named Sarina and a boy who James named
Brandon, after his father.

Childhood-
Sarina's childhood was actually pretty good for her, after she and
her brother were born her grandmother had died and left a
fortune and mansion behind for the family to take. She was her
father's little angel and her mother's baby girl, but her servents'
worst nightmare. Since the day she could talk she would always
treat them all with disrespect and try and get them fired any way
she could by blaming them for them for things she did like breaking
priceless vases or even for taking her mother's expensive jewelry
and losing it. Her and her brother were a duo when it came to
getting whatever they wanted by working together as much as
they possibly could. They would take what they wanted and kick
and scream if they didn't get it so their parents thought it would
just be best if they had their own way of making money when
they became older.

Previous-
Once they turned ten the twins were both accepted as singers in
a large record company after trying out over thousands of others.
The two were thrilled, but their parents were somewhat worried
about the effects fame would have on their two kids. They were
stupid for letting their twins have a taste of the fame and fortune
especially when their albums reached the top of the charts and
their heads were swelling with the adoration and fans they had as
well as from seeing their faces everywhere; In magazines, t.v.,
online, etc.

They knew they were stars, they just wanted everyone else to
know, but being a star came with a price, kids from their school
would constantly make fun of them just for being well known and
others would try and be their friends just to be seen on t.v. and
anywhere else. They could never tell who was true and who were
the fakers, it caused the twins to really never trust anyone, not
even their own parents. As the years passed and the twins turned
14, Clarissa and James announced that they were clearly growing
apart and thought it would be best if the two just split up.

James took Brandon and Clarissa took Sarina for the time being
and the girls kept the house and the money as James planned for
them while him and Brandon went off to England to stay with
their uncle David. The twins tried their best to keep in touch, but
it seemed to fail as they haven't spoken since they were 15.
Sarina continued her career as a singer until one day while her and
her mother were out shopping a crowd of poperatzi came after
them and scared the girls until a corner of the store. It was then
when Sarina discovered her powers after she caused all the
cameras to explode.

A few weeks after that she had received an acceptance letter to
beauxbaton's academy of magic. Her mother had no idea what to
think of it, but pushed her daughter into going, thinking it would
be for the best.

Sample RP:[/b][/size][/color]
Today was the day Sarina would go off to Beauxbaton's and start
her new life, and try her best to keep under the radar, or at least
keep everyone from knowing who she was. Her stage name was
Rina-Lyn, so she was able to keep her real name, but her mother
had her hair dyed black and tried to make her look rich, which
wasn't too hard opposed to famous, which actually was somewhat
of a challenge.

It was about noon as Sarina was almost finished packing, or at
least telling her personal maid, Hannah, which clothes to pack and
which to leave behind. By the time they were done she had
about five suit cases being loaded into the black SUV while her
and her mother rode in Sarina's black stretch limo. "How much
longer is it going to be? I wanna get out of this stupid place as
fast as I possible can," said Sarina as she glared at the world
outside her window.

She knew her mother wouldn't say anything, just sigh and sip her
red wine, as usual. Her mother had become a bit more passive of
Sarina's actions, not really caring what she did nor how she acted,
and she was beginning to like having the freedom as well. Sarina
really was growing tired of the fame she got for doing what she
loved, although she didn't really mind the admiration much. Letting
out a small sign she sat back in her seat and drifted off to sleep as
she waited to arrive at the school.

Other Characters: Juliet Adelle!
[/center]

Must be Sournois!

[marina]

FIRST NAME: Marina Teague.
LAST NAME: Dawlish.
AGE: Sixteen.

APPEARENCE:

PERSONALITY:

“The truth must be told and damn the consequences.”

The most obvious trait of Marina is her honesty. She has the discretion to keep her mouth shut when a situation calls for it, but if you ask her opinion you’d best be prepared for the brutal truth. Occasionally she’ll decline to answer a question based on how distressed a person looks, but it’s never by a lie. She’s more the type to look you in the eye, and proceed to tell you that she’s not going to talk to you about it. And as all things with Marina, when she says it, she means it.

“Never start a fight, never avoid a fight, never back down from a fight, pull no punches and damn the consequences”

One would think that over the years of being attacked verbally and magically by various people, Marina would have some sort of technique to avoid full on fights, but the girl is a big believer in facing problems as they present themselves. There are no bets to be had on this. Provide her with the confrontation and Marina will fight back tooth and nail. This holds true for malicious situations and the occasional debate someone is fool enough to draw her into. She can hold her own in any argument, and she never throws words or punches for something she doesn’t believe in. If someone really wants to get her started, all a body has to do is throw a slur at Ireland and you’ll have the angriest Irishwoman you’ve ever seen, regardless of hair color. When it comes to personal arguments based on emotions rather than opinions, Marina does try her best to keep her temper under control, but as with all things she is imperfect. If there’s any stereotype that holds true for Ms. Dawlish (and there are a few) it’s that of the Irish temper.

“Do the work and damn the consequences”

Marina doesn’t mind hard labor. When she sets her mind to get a thing done, she’ll do it just fine given time. Trust her on that if nothing else. Marina is unafraid of pain and frustration. Homework hardly holds a candle to learning the fiddle, or climbing the mountains of country Kelly, or (God knows) arguing with her mother. No matter how much detention she suffers through, Marina will sacrifice what sleep she must to get her work done. She breaks enough rules to have her professors hopping mad without the addition of missed work.

“Friends are there to be friendly with, and damn the consequences”

Despite her short fuse temper and extremist tendencies, Marina really is a kind person. She’s unaggressive though occasionally abrupt in the way she meets and interacts with acquaintances and friends. She thinks waiting for introductions is a waste of time and has met many of her circle simply by deciding on impulse that she would introduce herself. Her friends will find her a generally compassionate person, though she has no sympathy for whining about problems brought on by your own mistakes. She’s a good conversationalist, capable of backing down from opinions that don’t match her own when among friends. She’s always up for a good time, and her laughs and smiles are easy and honest. Though Marina is as ever unafraid of confrontation, she tends to be much mellower about it with those she trusts and confides in. As for humor, Marina’s got plenty of it. She picks up on virtually any brand of wit, and carries some of her own when it comes to placing an amusing comments at the right moment.

“Let's just say I’m unfocused and damn the consequences”

Marina has no idea what she wants to do with herself. She loves to fiddle, she loves to duel, and she’s fond of placing charms on things. Other than that, she has no real interests, and the three don’t combine to make any career she knows of. She’s terribly worried that she’ll find no real purpose for herself in life, and move through it without making a contribution or difference in anything. Though playing life day by day works well enough for now, sooner than later she’s going to have to buckle down and find a path to follow. Despite this she garners a decent amount of confidence from knowing who she is, and the fact that she can handle herself well enough when faced with impossible situations.

“In love it’s always fun to stray into dangerous waters, and damn the consequences”

Marina is unafraid of attachment or love. She’s in possession of a very open and giving heart, welcoming to what comes its way. Feelings are acted upon within respectability, and Marina realizes love often springs from unlikely places. She gives most people a chance when if comes to friendship, and once that line’s been crossed, she tries her best to keep an open mind. It should be emphasized that Marina never enters into a real relationship without first knowing a person as a friend. She feels there are too many variables otherwise, and while she takes risks everywhere else in her life, playing with people never sat particularly well with Marina.

“Play your heart out and damn the consequences.”

Marina’s emotions tend to run high and fast, but even she needs a break from them from time to time. The only thing that reliably manages to mellow her out is fiddling. When she needs it she finds a place, any place, and fiddles herself dry of Irish tunes. This in and of itself is a feat. Most of her true eccentricities revolve around her violin. She satisfies homesickness with it, she assuages her worry over her brother with it, and whenever a stiff west wind blows you can find her on a roof or tower somewhere in Beauxbatons playing on it. Music is near and dear to her heart.

HISTORY:

"Donovan Dawlish was pure and he was Irish. He was never particularly sure which came first in his book, but it was close enough that he sought out a woman of both descriptions when it came time to marry. Then he met my mother. God help us, but she was both good Irish stock, and pureblooded. The search had taken a year already, and Donovan wasn’t about to let the one slip away, so five months later he married my mother, and ten months after that Bran was born.

My father also began to realize he liked very little about his wife other than the fact that she was both Irish and pureblooded. Thus I didn’t come along for another six years. Mum was rather rabid about being pureblooded. Though father was on good terms with all the men in the village (there only being a population of 600 or so) mother refused to associate with the muggle women.

It was only when he was eight that Bran started his own rebellion, which mostly consisted of getting the both of us completely disheveled. Anyway, it was quite standard to grate Mum’s nerves by the time Bran was off in Hogwarts, and when I didn’t have him to whisper to at night and argue with during the day I got bored of staying at home. We lived outside Lahinch by a mile, so I was forever sneaking down to the village. It was then that I discovered the sessions. Nearly every evening this old man would come down to the pub and start playing fiddle. Within five minutes everyone with an instrument would have brought theirs. They’d all play clear through the night.

When I was about seven I finally asked the old man if he’d teach me to play, and he said sure. I’d go down near every day and wear my fingers bloody on that violin of his. I guess it was being gone during the days and my fingers being a ragged mess that finally gave mum the clue. She showed up one night at the pub in her robes and all, and dragged me out of there.

Though I was just a child I had a bloody screaming match with her until we got home and Da heard us. He came running out of the house thinking one of us had been hurt, and when he found out we were shouting about my associating with muggles he told us both to shut out traps, and get in the house. We did, and three days later he came home from work with a violin for me and a stern look for my mother. By summer I was playing well enough to take part in the sessions on violin.

When I was eight Lorcan was born. I found it an uninteresting event. I was too young to have any responsibilities with him. I generally just thought him an adorable thing until he started talking and walking steadily. Then I took him with me on my romps around the countryside, much to my mother’s dismay. The Bran, Lorcan and I were a sight to be seen in the summers. We ran amok and generally harassed our parents as much as possible.

When I was eleven I finally got my letter. By that time I was changing the colors of things and large objects were flying at my mother with relative regularity. So I went off to Beauxbatons.

I’ve got nothing to complain about. Every third month I’m here I go into Ireland withdrawal and have a mad few days where I do nothing but lounge in the common areas playing fiddle. Not hell nor high water can stop me. I’ve gotten into fights over it to no avail. I can’t back down from a challenge, so I’m forever breaking rules and getting thrown in detention. I’ve got plenty of friends, and decent grades. Most of the professors don’t know what to make of me. I’ve gotten no reign on my temper despite my best efforts. Dueling club is my second home. Mother is failing at finding me a bloke to marry, and life goes on. All I want right now is Bran home."

RP SAMPLE:

Clad in a junk pair of shorts and a shirt that had seen better days, Marina made her way down to the seventh floor. Her common room wasn’t far off from her destination and that was a good thing, it gave people less of a chance to wonder what sort of antics she was about to get up to now. She didn’t have any shoes on, either, and so that would warrant more stares than what she would care to deal with; people were overly interested in their neighbors sometimes, she would swear, and then laugh aloud because she, too, was a curious individual always wondering what the people around her were doing. Oh, it felt good to be silly every now and again and that’s what she intended to do today – to act silly and not care who saw her or who enquired after her sanity. She was mostly convinced that her sanity was questionable anyways, so the question if crazy people know that they were crazy would fall into play here.

Skipping happily down the corridor like she was eleven years old once more, she paused when she realized that she’d just passed the place she’d meant to come to. Retracing her steps quickly, Marina did that whole pace-three-times thing and thought hard for what she wanted to appear on the inside of the Room of Requirement. She wanted something fun, something childish, something that she wouldn’t usually do when she had free time like this on her hands. And she wanted it to be something without limitations without a right or wrong way to do things. Maybe this was too large an order for the Room to fill, but Marina ‘kept the faith’ and held her breath as her hands grasped the handle to the large door that would lead inside to – hopefully – some sort of haven.

And she wasn’t disappointed. In fact, a large grin spread out on her face as she saw what lay before her. Directly opposite where she stood was a wall that had paper that ran from the ceiling all the way down to the floor and actually came out a few feet before it ended. To the left or right lay various cans of paint. Yes, painting, she decided, would be a good way to let loose and be crazy and get a little dirty. Who knew? Maybe someone else would come in and decide that a bit of fun was in order and play along with her. The huge piece of paper was large enough that she just might be able to share with another person a small sliver of it. Then they could step back and observe their handiwork...

But she was getting ahead of herself. Now was the time to get down to business – Marina crossed the room and pried open the lids off the cans of paint to see the colors that lay inside. One was a rich purple, another was a deep blue, the third was a deep blood-red, another a golden sort of yellow, and the last a dark green. The House colors and then some, Marina thought to herself, grinning. But how did she get the cans of paint to the paper without wasting all the paint in one throw...? It was then that she noticed the large brushes lying off to the side, just begging her to be used. And she smiled a genuine smile before snagging the nearest, and coincidentally largest, brush that came to her hand.

She moved to dip it into the can of purple paint and made sure that it was nice and loaded before flinging it at the paper. It made a huge splatter on the canvas in front of her and she could feel some drops on the bits of her skin that weren't covered by clothing. None of that bothered her, however, and she went to the next can to repeat the same process, unconcerned about the colors mixing and not being as uniform and as pure as they had been before.

She seems to have a few Rouerie straits within her, but overall,
I think she'd be better suited in Sournois.

[isaach]

First Name: Isaac.
Last Name: Harrow.
Age: Seventeen.
Appearance:

History:

It's not uncommon for young wizards and witches to release magic accidently when they are over-emotional. For Isaac, it wasn't quite the same. From a young age he was able to release magic willingly, which was quite a worry for his parents, James and Catherine Harrow. They had known from birth that they were going to have an interesting time with Isaac. He had been the child who slept during the day and woke at night, and seemed to make life as awkward as possible. He never cried; he screamed- for the hell of it. There's not much else to do when all you can do is lie on your back. Luckily for the parents, they were well accustomed to trouble.

Born in Italy, the family moved country to bring up Isaac in a happier lifestyle in London. The Harrows were, in short, avid Voldemort-appreciaters and well known in Venice. Months before Voldemort's downfall, they withdrew their support, and moved to avoid notice. He was perhaps overly spoilt in order to take his mind of doing magic and thus to avoid detection. Despite being vainly proud of their pure-blood heritage, Mr. and Mrs. Harrow agreed that being aware of muggle-life was an important aspect of Isaac's childhood- although it was probably more to do with his safety than anything else. Being their only child, they were driven to make sure no harm came to their son. He was sent to a muggle school, and succeeded spectactularly, having won the hearts of his classmates and teachers (they obviously had ignored that he'd been found with the key to the closet that Mr. Tobin had been locked in). There were more than a few tears then when he left at eleven, when he received his invite to Beauxbatons (his parents having decided again that it would be safest to have him travel rather to stay in the country for Hogwarts). Sadly though, on the run up to his preparation for leaving for France, one Fenrir Greyback finally managed to track the family down while roaming Diagon Alley with his parents (it was rumoured at this point that the remaining Death Eaters who were unarrested uptained Voldemort's regime in the hope that he might one day rise again). One thing led to another, and weeks later he had left for school scarred and his parents in St. Mungos. Thankfully, they escaped with superficial injuries, but Isaac's life was to change forever with the bites.

He had never actually made any friends in his old school. They would say he was "different", mainly because he wasn't sure who the bands they all liked were, because he wasn't interested in kicking a ball around a field or because his parents forbid him taking anyone home. He was often found reading books in the corners of empty classrooms during free periods on his own, but his youthful innocence excused him of his lack of sociality. It wasn't until he reached Beauxbatons that he began to meet people and understand and realise what his type of people his parents were.

Whereas he was once seen to be shy, people now said that he was just so overconfident that he didn't need to shout for attention. It's probably true to a certain extent, as while growing up, he had learned not to accept his parent's veiws and began making his own opinions and decisions. Unfortunately this distanced him from his parents but it built his confidence considerably over a short period of time. Ashamed of his parents, Isaac remained secretive and withdrawn to a degree, especially after the Diagon incident- although he had also already found that by being quiet and by listening, he heard more than what most of his peers knew, whether it was only secrets of people around him or important information. People seemed to be attracted by his quietness however, supposing him to be the "tall, dark and silent" stranger. He would never complain about this and encouraged the new relations in order to expand his range of contacts, as if to make up for lost friendships in his first school.

Even in Beauxbatons, nobody was ever close enough to him to realise why it was that he disappeared each lunar month. Naturally, they noticed that he tended to be ill quite often, but it never raised suspicions (he never did seem to have the spirits of someone who was perfectly healthy anyway). Isaac had always appeared to be a loner to them, despite being surrounded by 'friends'. He never seemed to fully enjoy himself unless he was drifting from group to group, never stopping long enough to raise suspicions about his sudden disappearances. However, as long as nobody found a problem with it, he wasn't about to explain his dilema, and found himself able to deal with the sideeffects of the bites as he had suffered once loneliness for so long in London.

Personality:

Isaac never was a smiley sort of kid. Sure, he laughed when someone said something funny. He smiled when he was complimented. He grinned when he was up to no good. But most people just smile for the heck of smiling, even when there was no need. Isaac went to the other end of the spectrum, and was even noted on a few occasions to look in pain when he had nothing to occupy him. Maybe he sat on a pin, but generally he just didn't smile.

He's a nice enough sort of fellow, but he has a 'dark' look that doesn't make him look that approachable to people who haven't heard that "he usually looks like that". Infact he has an amazing ability to make people feel uncomfortable and paranoid. Unfortunately for them, he finds this thoroughly entertaining and at quiet times does this on purpose for the fun of it. Other than that though, he's a gentleman through-and-through and has enough charm to lure out a snake. He's also the sort of person who is always surrounded by friends that turn to him for guidance when needed, even if he doesn't ask for it. He tends to sit back, and watch what's going on with those deep brown eyes. This sullen quietness gives an aura of sophistication and leadership it seems though. And it's true. He would be the person to run back into the fire to save the family pet rather than ask someone else to do it.

Isaac is a logical thinker. Faced with a problem he takes a breather, looks at it, and can fix it straight away. He's not overly emotional, you see. Rather, he doesn't let his emotions get in the way of straight thinking and tends to see things clearly through his pain and happiness. This makes him rather intelligent. He can top his classes easily, except he has the concentration of a rock if he doesn't see what good will come to him otherwise. Where his intrests lie, he devotes all his time, but if he has any doubts in its worth, he simply drops and finds something better to do.

As withdrawn as he sounds so far, Isaac is known to never wander without a friend. He likes company of other students, but has a habit of finding the wrong types of people. It's not unusual to find him hiding red hands, and he's one of the keener pranksters around. Luckily, this added along side his natural intelligence means he usually get away with it. It's all done for fun though, and he knows where not to cross the line. He likes to entertain other people with abstract spells and harmless pranks, mostly because he's most at ease when he knows people are on his side.

When you get to know Issac, he becomes more open. He's not quite as quiet and withdrawn and can actually hold up a conversation. He's got a soft spot for females, as does every hormonal male in the school, and he's well known to be willing to stand up for those females closest to him, despite the fact he doesn't do straightforward insults (infact, he's hardly ever going to tell you to your face about the wart on your forehead or the fact you're a right loser)- he's thankfully pretty nifty with a wand though. In good company be's willing to join in with the everyday happening instead of watching from the side, and has, as I said, charm enough to endear himself to other people. Even though he can be opinionated he's generally open to hearing other veiws if they're open to his aswell. As intimidating as he can be on the first meeting, it's pretty easy to start to like him, as he does try his hardest to make sure he's always got a friend available at all times.

During the days leading up to the full moon he becomes, if it's possible, more withdrawn. He finds it harder at those times to control himself, and where he normally is able to keep himself quite level headed, he becomes more emotional as the feels the moon begins to enlargen.

Sample RP:

There was a girl watching him. She been standing there for five minutes, and it was starting to make him itch with paranoia. He had already changed his corner twice this week since she had taken to spending their play time watching him, whereas he was more interested in reading his book. His parents' voices rang in his head. "This is a special book. You can't let anyone else read it, okay?" They had said it with all the tender love that parents had for their only child, but there had been a warning underneathe it and he understood. This wasn't one of the muggles books- in this one the cartoons moved around and waved at him from their magical world or unicorns and goblins. He hadn't needed a second warning.

But that wasn't why he wanted to hide during their fun-hour. He just wanted peace. Isaac knew he didn't fit in with the other children that well, but this girl seemed determined that he would play housie or hospitals with him. He lifted his eyes a fraction to note her thick curls that cascaded messily down the sides of her face. She was wearing a yellow dress, with pimsoles that looked a size too big. They interested him greatly.

For a full week she had taken to following him around the school, although it hadn't been until two days ago that he had begun to hide from her. Today he was wedged between the two bookshelves, on a pillow that they used for reading-hour. And she'd found him. Again. Her name was Cassey, he remembered. She had been five for just over two weeks now. She was exactly two weeks, one day older than him. And she liked the colour yellow. Isaac preferred blue. It was why his badge said "5 TODAY" in blue letters.

Finally he noted how at the level of the bow around the girl's waist, she was holding a small parcel and from here he could read his name scrawled messily on a tag. As he lifted his own slowly to meet her brown-eyed gaze, she took it as a sign and began to move forward. Isaac felt himself panic for no reason before it disappeared as quickly as it came, as if he had willingly let go of his emotion. Cassey had stopped aswell, her eyes blank and missing the usual determination that he had noticed for a week- missing everything actually. She looked confused and had dropped the parcel. There was a crack as it broke and she began to walk out again, like she had forgotten what she was doing.

Isaac couldn't help a smug smile at this new ability and closed his book, dropped it on the floor gently and moved to the parcel before opening it with relish. In amongst the remains of a glass car were some yellow-wrapped sweets. Toffees he supposed. His eyebrows rose expressively and he watched the door close behind Cassey with his mouth open as if trying to decide whether to call her back. He was beginning to like yellow. And he was beginning to like her.

I see a mix of both Sournois and Rouerie within Isaac.
Hmm. I think.. that he must belong in.. hmm. Perhaps Rouerie.
Although there's a darkness within him.. that has me leaning more towards Sournois.