Sorting (Term Fourteen)

[Tinsley Rolland]

N A M E
Fawn Argent Dilan

A G E
Sixteen

B L O O D L I N E
Pureblood Witch, Werewolf

A P P E A R A N C E

It would be easy to make the assumption that Fawn lacks any ability to be quite fearsome, given that to look at she’s not all that intimidating. Her hair falls straight, usually cur to just below her shoulders, their darker brown shade matching that of her thin eyebrows. Often in the light her hair contains natural highlights of warmer hues of brown, and when allowing it to grow, her hair begins to naturally curl once given that length to do so. More often than not she’ll keep her hair shorter, more so for convenience and that she thinks its better suits her heart shaped face. Fawn would have what some would proclaim to be ‘pixie-like’ features, in that everything is more delicately placed into seeming quite petite. Her navy eyes change shades depending on the weather, their almond shapes surrounded by feathery lashes. The tip of her nose is quite small, though balanced out by lips perhaps slightly less full than other girls, yet subtly so. She has impressive bone structure, made more prominent when she smiles. Perhaps she lacks the impressive build mostly associated with werewolves, and in comparison could be said to be something of a let down. Standing at 5 feet 4 inches, she’s hardly the tallest individual that could ever be met, her smaller size accentuated by her slender, perhaps slightly thinner frame. At time she can appear taller than she is, gifted by legs slightly longer, unbalanced in comparison to her torso.

Not that she would ever wear anything short enough, her style being more about comfort than uncomfortable fashion, but one the outside of her left thigh are four visibly scratch marks from the werewolf who attacked her. Thin lines of red that depending on weather can either fade among tanned skin or become striking against a pale complexion. Though now her skin is naturally hot to the touch, the raised scars always feely icier in comparison, and much closer to a normal humans skin temperature. On her right shoulder is a smaller scar of same origins, accumulated not when she was attacked, but more so in a physical fight sustained whilst in wolf form. In accordance to her werewolf state, on the build up to the full moon Fawn appears much more tired and drained than her usual cheery disposition, skin paling and bags appearing under her eyes.

H I S T O R Y

There was nothing particularly fascinating about the birth of Fawn Dilan other than on that day Italy faced its heaviest rainfall in ten years. Carlo Dilan didn’t really appreciate the view. When your wife is giving birth and shutting off the blood circulation in your right hand, a sunnier climate would have appeared far more hopeful to behold. Seeing Fawn for the first time wasn’t overly pleasant either. Carlo had always been a queasy man, regardless of his strong appearance, and didn’t welcome the sight of his newborn daughter covered in blood and god knows what else. But he would instantly grow to love his daughter once she was cleaned, though it was a love that his wife often questioned to make him guilty. For Carlo had, in many previous years begun a steady climb to become Depart Head in the Department of International Relations for the Italian Ministry of Magic. As a student he’d always been vastly career minded, and reaching the peak of his profession whilst still quite young was such an achievement. However the job required constant visitations as a representative of his Ministry, which took him away from Fiore and Fawn. Though he soon realised just how scary his wife could be. Fiore didn’t appreciate being left alone, and at her charming insistence Carlo soon began to take advantage of his professions, professionally coercing his workers into taking on some of his work for him. They had meant to anyway, but he always took overtime. Fiore stopped that and Carlo unsurprisingly found that he loved his family more than work.

The region of Veneto was a stunning place to raise a child, and just as with her birth, Fawn grew up completely and utterly ordinarily. Nothing strikes as being particularly ground breaking, she did move house twice though, but only at her mothers distaste for never quite finding the right floor plan for her house. Fiore aspired for the perfect family unit, down to the perfect residence for her father and daughter. The witch was adamant in perfection, all for her lovely vision of how a family should behave. Whilst not exactly having high expectations for a growing Fawn, she did try and steer her daughter into taking things such as ballet and an musical instrument, all for Fawn’s benefit of course. Imagine the dismay when Fawn became an adolescent and somehow grew a knack for feeling pushed upon and cooped up by her parents. As a teenager Fawn wasn’t troublesome to unnerving lengths, but had her fair share of eating her dinner in her room and turning up her music to the point that she drowned out even polite conversation from her parents. Everything was entirely ordinary. How could anything change?

Enter Orfeo. He was tall, brooding and very handsome. Somewhat an enigma in their community, as charming as the man was he was also slightly unnerving. At times he looked wild, and his interest in Fawn was something to be questioned. Against the insistence of those around her Fawn began to spend time around the mysterious stranger, and that is when everything in her world began to change. The night is remembered clearly, a full moon. She’d sneaked out of the house to meet Orfeo who proclaimed with insistence she come to the forest. At that time Fawn had been very confused as to why he began apologising, only to attempt to flee as she watched him transform into a wolf. Like most wizarding children she knew of Werewolves, stories of how violent and feral they became when losing all human credibility. In perhaps the most frightening event of her life she ran whilst all the time knowing she was far too slow to escape. Feeling an excruciating pain across her leg, Fawn blacked out.

People had always said Orfeo was charming to suspicious points. His name was Italian for darkness and deprivation. But the fact he had scratched Fawn was something that she never thought he could have done or even be a werewolf. Waking up to find Orfeo tending to her wounds, he confessed that his previous apologies had all been a bit of a lie. The facts were 1. Yes he was a werewolf. 2. He wasn’t particularly a nice one. 3. He was lonely and reckoned Fawn in all of Veneto would grow to be the prettiest. The whole revelation made a confused and dazed Fawn physically sick, and whilst longing for nothing to go home, Orfeo laughable detained her. Whilst the three months that followed were understandably horrific, being forced to spend time with a man she now absolutely loathed. However his information was essential to her secure survival once phasing every month. She learnt about the consequences that came from his scratch. How her sense had been heightened, granted improved strength and speed and most disturbingly how upon reaching maturity she would cease to age. What she truly hated were the nights of the full moon. The transformations were excruciating, and every morning she awoke with the fear that in her uncontrolled state she may have somehow killed someone. Even the thought of attacking an animal made her shiver. Orfeo only laughed. Humans, he said, were the most challenging to hunt. They could put up a fight.

Fawn’s treatment wasn’t harrowing or nightmarish. Past physically being forced to stay close to Orfeo, he treated her quite well. She was well fed, had privacy to bath and dress, it was more so his violent mannerisms that disturbed her. Never did she resign herself the fate that one day she would become his mate, everyday passing with a formulated plan to escape that when occasionally acted out would only be foiled. Never before had she loved her parents as much as when her magic began to display itself. Though a creature of the supernatural, Orfeo was magically unaware and so as Fawn began to become magically adept his bewilderment allowed her to slip out of his grasp. The journey was immensely tiring, by now she knew his endurance levels and sense of smell were keener than hers and so she had to constantly be on the move. As she reached Italy once more and to her home, Fawn left all problems of Orfeo’s appearance to one side in favour of reuniting with her beloved parents once more.

They’d thought she’d been a runaway, something they had done but Fawn vehemently pledged to her parents it was not the case, revealing the occurrences of the past few months and the scars that told of her change. Even now she can recall the paling of her mothers face at seeing them on her thigh, the fear and guilt expressed with the fact that she should have been their to protect her baby. Fawn never once let them take any account of blame, to meet Orfeo was her own stupid mistake, and these were the consequences. She pondered whether she should stay, given her newfound condition and expressed concern as to being a danger to her parents. Her greatest fear was losing control in front of someone she cared about. Orfeo took advantage of that. Having tracked her down to her very home, Fawn wanted nothing more than to get rid, yet his offer to help her hone her own control was too enticing to refuse. Perhaps the male had been under the impression he could somehow manipulate Fawn back into living by his side, yet that hope would have proved to be his biggest mistake.

Murder isn’t truly murder among animals. That’s what she’s subsequently told herself. Though forever thankful to Orfeo for practicing her control, Fawn could never accept the risk that came with his violent advances and his threats. He had to be eliminated. The fact that she dispatched of him, even though she was following her instincts as a wolf, has haunted her ever since. Though there was a sense of relief in knowing he would never come back, a safety in that knowledge. Fawn never told her parents why she was covered in scratches the morning after that fateful night. Some things are hidden from a parent for good reason. During this time Fawn had received a letter from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. She didn’t accept until the last minute, plagued by the worry of the full moon. Yet confident in her control she accepted it as the right thing to do. Little did she realise that she’s not the only one with a past at Beauxbatons. But there’s something accepting in that fact, almost lessening her guilt.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Fawn is reasonably cheery most of the time, the sort of girl who smiles in recognition of seeing a familiar face and will be unable to contain bells of laughter when faced with someone who makes her laugh. All round she’s a welcoming girl who does nothing outwardly to draw unwelcome behaviour, but more so blends into a situation where things are more care free and easy going. Turning people away isn’t something she’d do on her best days, though she will question a person should they seem somewhat suspicious in appearance, mostly Fawn is quite talkative to those who take the time to want to get to know her. There should be a word of warning, as delightful as she may appear there is nothing about her that instantly makes people feel like they’ve known her for their lives, nor does she sparkle with infectious charisma. As open as she may appear, Fawn will always hold something back when meeting others. Understandably given the fact she was fatally lied to in her past, distrust is something that she feels when meeting others. It’s a cautionary response to meeting strangers, finding herself on guard, unwilling to allow herself to be placed into a situation where she could be betrayed. How quickly she warms to an individual all depends on how they act around her. On surface level she’ll appear to have no problem, but on a deeper level it can take a while for her to fully allow herself to relax. The perfect counteract towards this problem would be to say she’s intuitive, but when it comes to understanding others, she’s more likely to be the one easy to read.

If your going to hover around and stick to her side constantly there will be a high chance Fawn will find a way to shake you off. She finds close personal contact insufferably suffocating to be on the receiving end of. It makes her feel as though someone’s being domineering towards her, and attempt to assert their size upon her smaller frame. Space is something that she now finds she respects very much, and with that respect is the need to be able to breathe freely without someone being so close she can feel their heartbeat. It becomes quite awkward in such situations, especially since Fawn is rather uncomplaining when it occurs, more so becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Of course when faced with a large crowd it’s bound to be distasteful for her, the feeling of being cooped up on top of social expectation being quite stressful. When posed with being part of a large number Fawn is uncertain on the role she should play, feeling that she wouldn’t be as well received by being herself than if she was, say, ‘the funny one’. It’s strange, given that in smaller groups Fawn is quite confident. It can be guessed she finds large groups daunting, werewolves are after all said to be isolated creatures.

Surprisingly, against her daintier appearance, mentally Fawn is extremely hardy and resilient. Perhaps some individuals will concentrate of their failure and wallow, but she will deal with all the grief in one pile in order to quickly be able to pick herself up from any setbacks that come her way. Finding discomfort in feeling vulnerable and weak, she has a drive to be brave. Her resilient passion does not stretch when applied to confrontation. Feeling that the most detesting quality in a person is their anger, Fawn takes a more passive role when posed with volatile situations. Tending to sit back without any attempt to flare the discussion to violent levels, Fawn is a calm and gentler individual, highly startling given the fact that werewolves have a reputation for being somewhat heated. Though, of course, reputations do not always fit, and Fawn is able to focus her anger into a more realistic and civilised debate. It would not be good to test the limits of her kinder heart, when pushed to the limit; much to her displeasure she fulfils the reputation that surrounds her kind.

S A M P L E

There was nothing beautiful about the forest in the morning, even though inarguably everything appeared to sparkle under an early morning sun. Yet Fawn Dilan wasn’t a girl in the right frame of mind to appreciate the artistic flares of nature. She was unable to appreciate the way in which the thick expanse of greenery overhead illuminated like stained glass when captured by the light, or how the silhouettes of those same leaves danced and twisted in shadow with every movement of the gentle breeze. The weather had no affect on her at all, though in fairness it could have been winter and the girl would have been obvious to the icy decline in temperature should she not understand the shifts of the changing seasons. In such earliness she was dressed simply, just managing to pull an uninspiring tank over her naked frame before preening her impressively back combed hair from a natural variety of leaves and twigs accumulated during her slumber. But of course that was an absurd indication that Fawn had slept upon the forests grounds?

Her lips parted into a soft grunt of displeasure with the stiffness that offered itself with her movements, arms over head and she gave her body a long and needed stretch. God she’d forgotten just how the mornings dragged on, the tiredness and infernal ache that plagued her body’s muscles. She could have spent the next hour stretching and it wouldn’t be enough to shake away the feeling that really she’d been abused. For that’s what Fawn thought of her body to have been. Girls were not supposed to elongate and bulk unnaturally to the point where the line between human and animal became completely eradicated. There was nothing especially thrilling about being werewolf, the mortification of the very slim chance someone may catch her post-transformation naked just one aspect that had her pining for a normal, uncomplicated teenage life. And then there were the memories. Such memories that truly shouldn’t have belonged in such a young and innocent mind. There used to be a time in which Fawn would shake on the lingering of that particular thought, though so many moons had passed and each morning she thought back to Orfeo that she merely passed over it without anything more than a familiar guilt.

The only thing clean about Fawn was her clothes, having been shoved into a bag before her transformation as the prospect of walking back up to the Palace naked didn’t suit her more respectful character at all. She quickened her footsteps, under the hope that once more she’d arrive back to her dormitory and be able to take a shower before the other girls woke. Her werewolf status wasn’t something she flaunted, though whether it could be hidden was unlikely, it was simple to add clues together should you be sharp enough. Other’s guessing was inevitable, but Fawn didn’t like the thought of flaunting her more specialised origins to others, you could never really guess the reception gained from a person. Werewolves were somewhat a debatable species to those she had met in the past, some welcoming whilst others old and holding onto a myth that simply was no true! Of course there were the true pessimists. Vampires. Briefly Fawn recalled a stonier scent the night previously, even though having no problems against the undead she’d felt her wolf throat growl territorially. It was said the two creatures were natural enemies, Fawn had always thought it didn’t have to be the case but perhaps instinct gave the truth more so than her much more clearer, human thought.

“I… need… bed.” Groggily spoken somehow Fawn was able to persevere up the castle steps even with her unresponsive body, spurred on by the oncoming presence of her dormitory, the sight of a mattress she knew to be enchantingly soft and a pillow fluffed nightly by House Elves was truly hard to resist. Yet the warm water that both cleaned and soothed her body always proved far more beneficial, washing away the lingering remains of the elements. It would have been more affective if the waters temperature was more contrasting against her naturally unnaturally warm skin, yet there could be complaints when everything felt like luxury on mornings like these. Soap became her best friend, and shampoos a gift from the most generous of gods, rubbing through her matted tresses with a sigh that came with the fresh smells of exotic mangos and passion fruit. Oh to be well washed and groomed, truly there was nothing better. It could only be expected, therefore, to indulge her sudden appetite for luxury, smiling fondly as softer covers pulled themselves over her form and her almond eyes closing into a much needed sleep.

Must be Sournois!

[devynnlaroque]

Name: Devynn Laroque

Age: Seventeen

Bloodline: Pureblood - Vampire

Appearance: She stands at 5'9 tall in height.She had hazel-green eyes, that had a certain green to them, in different lighting, beautiful, bright and open.In the right light setting, they have a certain topaz look to them, even though they are still brown.Even though they’re still brown, they’re sort of caramel at the same time.Her eyes are slightly almost shaped and not too big or too small, just right.Her eyebrows are not too bushy or thin, but they suit her face.Her hair is a light brown color, it used to come to the middle of her back, before she cut her hair, when she was human.Due to having her hair short, she wears it cut and pointing in different directions.Her skin is pale, and is marked with a few scars from fights she has been in, and of course a vampire bite on her neck.


History:Devynn Laroque was born in London, on a stormy July night. She was the second born of the twin children. Her brother Draven was born three minutes before her. The birth of the twins was the happiest and the saddest day of Devynn's fathers life. The love of Eric's life and the mother of his children, passed five minutes after the babies where born. The children where left with a nanny for the first few weeks of their lives. Their father went slightly insane, staying out at all hours drinking. After a couple of weeks, he straightened himself out, knowing that Heather would want him to take care of his children and not drink himself into a grave next to her.

Eric raised the twins as best he could being a single father. He worked all day, and came home to the children of the nights, helping their nanny take care of them. It stayed that way for the most part of Devynn's childhood. Soon after her eleventh birthday, she found out that she was a pureblood witch, but she couldn't join a school just yet. She was rather upset that she couldn't go and learn about magic since she figured out that she was indeed a witch. A month after she found out that she was a witch, a coven of Vampires attacked her home. They killed Eric, but left Draven and Devynn alive with a bite on their necks. The twins where sent off to live with the closest family they had, which was in the united states.

The big move was a hard one, for both twins. They hated living in the states. It was so very different than London had been. Living there for another five years, in nothing but misery. One night her brother told her that he would be returning to London and go onto to Hogwarts to learn how to become a wizard. At the time Devynn was not sure if she was ready as she was copying with being a vampire. Devynn finally got to go back to London and went to Hogwarts to learn to be a witch like her father and mother had.When the break came, while being at home, she received a letter from her brother Draven.Stating that Draven had transfered schools, over to a school called Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.Devynn, read the letter and wished she could go, now that she finally found her brother.Soon as the break was over and the new term was about to begin.Devynn received a letter saying she was accepted to Beauxbatons.Now that she has transfered to a new school.Her mission now is to find her brother in Beauxbatons and continue on what the two had done in the U.S.A.

Sample RP:Devynn could almost never get used to this castle of Beauxbatons, though that could be, because she was still new there.She never expected to see a place this big before.It was almost like a maze to her.Thinking of this she shook her head.So far it was a god day, and went by fast.After she went to the garden, and looked around.Devynn did seat herself on the bench near the water fountain.It seemed almost like the perfect place to be.It was quiet setting, with maybe one or two people walked by her, people who worked and took care of the garden.It was such a lovely place.

Lucky for the girl, the bench was next to the water fountain and in the center of the garden.Devynn could see in all the different directions, different roads that leaded to other secret places.Looking at her reflection in the water, Devynn made a small smile, a idea trying to come to her.Once she took out all her paint supplies, she opened her book and started drawing a few lines.All of a sudden, she heard a noise.Looking up from her paper, she looked around the garden, but didn't see anyone.Going back to her drawing, but keep looking up through her lashes in the garden, to keep a eye on things while painting.

When she got halfway through her painting, suddenly Devynn heard another noise.This time, it made her uneasy, like she had a feeling she was being watched.The girl tried to shake it off, but for some reason it wouldn't go away, she wished it would, and she could feel better about this.A few minutes of silence passed.All of a sudden, she heard a voice speak from behind her."Hello there".,The voice said, and Devynn nearly jumped up to her feet, almost jumped out her skin and very nearly hissed at the person.She hated being surprised and taken off guard.To her surprise, Devynn saw it was a boy, he was a little taller then her, and had a smile on his face.


Devynn glared at him for a moment for making her jump.Slowly she turned into a frown."Do you always like making people jump?", she asked sarcastically.Then she looked at the boy's eyes, and her frown went away.A wise saying is 'looking into a persons eyes, is like looking in their soul' or some saying like that.Taking another look at him, Devynn stopped what she was about to say, then she held out her hand and introduced herself to the boy. "Hi.My name is Devynn.Nice to meet you" she said, then gave him a small smile.The girl tried to think of something to say, she was a little shy when first meeting new people.


Due to her painting with her drawing, Devynn didn't even realize how late it had gotten.The garden was starting to become dim and less lit.Well she could still see perfectly well, as she didn't have any trouble in the dark, in fact she felt more comfortable at night anyways.Seeing as it was getting later, close to the curfew time.Devynn then thought it would be a good idea, if she asked for directions.Looking at the boy, she did just that. "Do you know which way to go, for me to head back to the school's campus.The short way if possible?". Devynn asked him.She saw the boy run a hand through his hair, before he answered her." Yeah I do.You want to go through the garden this way.."., He point in the left direction."Then keep heading straight.You will come to a three way road, go to the right and it leads you to the castle"., He said.Devynn then stood up to her feet, then headed out of the garden.Before she left she poke again. "Thank you for the directions and help". She told him, before she headed out of the garden.After getting directions, now Devynn knew where she was going.But once when she would reach her dorm, Devynn was going to find her a good book to read.

Please add the personality!

[lucianamonet]

FIRST NAME: Luciana Adele.
LAST NAME: Monet.
AGE: Sixteen.

APPEARENCE:

PERSONALITY:

"If Merna were around to talk to you, and you asked her, she'd tell you just how straightforward I am. It's just my nature. I don't really know what made me so different from her, considering I'm her polar opposite in every way except for the fact that we were always tardy to events. Whether it be class or some party, I always show up a few minutes late. Sometimes by the fact that I don't care, and others by accident. School, for instance. I'm not always on time for school to where it's simply expected, but I mean - hey, I get my work done, right? I know what I want, and a perfect academic record doesn't really fit the list of requirements for it. Anyone who asks about it will know, considering it's not as if I'm bashful about it. I don't mind the fact that I'm a little late to some things, and not to others. I don't like people who word their sentences in riddles, simply to try and make you think more about what they're trying to say.

As I've said before, I know what I want. The thought makes me feel a bit proud, because I know lots of people who don't have any idea about what they want in life. I'm glad that I've discovered painting, thanks to my dad. It may not be the source of the biggest income in the world, but I mean, it's better than not knowing at all about what I decide to do once I graduate from school. It may take me a long time to decide on something, sure - and when I mean a long time, I mean a really long time - but once I do choose whatever it is, I stick with it. Though I may be incredibly indecisive, I sit firmly with whatever it is that I happen to choose. Once I get onto something I enjoy, I do it wholeheartedly. Which kind of explains why I don't really have the best grades in school, considering I just...don't care about it.

Such as my painting. It may take a while for me to find something to paint, but it's not as if I fancy up the picture. I don't make things sparkle, and I don't make the moonlight glimmer when it doesn't. I don't want anyone to see what isn't there in my paintings. I paint it as I see it, whether they decide it looks beautiful or not. To me it is, and that seems to be enough for right now. Overly optimistic people tend to annoy me, but I do choose to be around some of them at the same time. We may get into a few arguments, obviously, considering I really don't like people to get their hopes up for things that obviously can't happen. I used to, to an extent. I had minor optimism with the fact that maybe Merna would come back to her old ways, which turned out to be a big slap in the face.

My argumenative part of me wants to pipe up whenever I hear someone talking about their idealistic hopes for things, but I know when to keep quiet and when not to. Or, I thought I did. Okay, I guess that's a lie. Obviously, the situation of my family isn't much of a voucher for that. I tend to pipe in at random times. I wouldn't call myself an outgoing person, seeing as how I've started to keep to myself just a bit more after Merna's death, though I'm incredibly reliant on my friends. I don't seem to be, but I am much more than I'd like to be. Since Merna's left, I've lost a few of those and become a bit quieter, but I have my moments when I feel like speaking up about things. I guess the way I act just depends on the days.

The way people go out and party every night, living carefree and reckless, I liked it. I never took part in it myself, of course, but I always admired it. Admired her. To be honest, if I wasn't so much of a coward, I probably would have been like that myself. I was young and impressionable, after all. I resent it now. At first, I feared it, and now I loathe it. It robbed me of my sister, and I will never forgive that lifestyle. Yes, I blame the lifestyle. It frightens me to know that if I'd been a bit more courageous, I probably would have went out and stepped into the behavior Merna had slipped into. I watched her party her days away without a care in the world, I watched her live, and I practically watched her die."

HISTORY: please note: creative way of presenting history.

DEAR MUM AND DAD,
sent

I know you're down the hall, and I know you guys like to spend time together. Merna and I are having so much fun packing my things for Hogwarts! I feel bad for leaving you, though. I think I'll miss home more than Merna though. She's poking fun at it. But I don't care. I think she missed home too, she just won't admit it. It was almost a full year that she was away outside of breaks! It had to be so weird. And it will for me, but I'm excited. She had to have missed it sort of, right? I know I'll see you at dinner tonight and in the morning when you both take me to the platform, but it seemed neater to write you a letter. Might as well get used to writing them.

LUCY

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DEAR MERNA,
sent

I've found a hobby. I love it. You know how we used to finger paint as kids? It's so much more fun now. Only...without the finger part. Unless I'm in a playful mood. I know you won't get this until the morning, seeing as how you snuck out with Valerio last night. I would just tell you this instead of another old letter, but you're used to them by now, and I'm still mad at you for it. You could have gotten caught so easily, and you didn't even care.

Mum's sick. You owe me. Meaning you get to come with me to Le Grande Louvre tomorrow. Without Valerio.
LUCY

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DEAR MUM AND DAD,
unsent

I don't think I really like Merna when she's with Valerio. She's so much more careless. It's getting worse, too. She's skipping breakfasts because she's sleeping in late from being out every night. Even Jeremie is noticing. Almost every night, she'll leave as soon as lights are out, stay out all night. Every night she always comes and tucks herself back into her bed, according to her dorm-mates. Still. It didn't used to be this bad.

LUCY

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DEAR MERNA,
sent

I got much better on my Charms test than I thought I would. Still, my grades and record isn't anywhere near capable of having me be able to be named as a prefect next year, but I'm proud. I meant to tell you and ask how you did on your Astronomy test, but you were out with Valerio. People are beginning to talk, Merna, and I'm getting worried. You know we all are. It was alright at first, but now things are just getting crazy. Even your grades are getting worse than they were. Please, Merna..this is your last year. Just straighten it out, okay? Valerio isn't going to be there forever, and I just want you to not mess things up because of him. It was good for a while, but you know nothing's coming from this but bad things. You're just being.....stupid.

LUCY

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DEAR FOURTEEN YEAR OLD SELF,
------

You're sixteen now. It seems like a big difference and a small one at the same time, I know. Painting is more than a silly hobby now, though I think you're starting to learn that already. It's a beautiful feeling to be able to show others the way you see things, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It started off a little rocky, but don't worry - it gets much better. Academics aren't always the most important thing, even if you're still bugging out about it now. There are other ways to support yourself, and maybe you can do that one day with your own art. Hopefully.

You're noticing Merna's changing, that's an obvious. Your dislike for Valerio is growing stronger each week you notice just how different he's causing your sister to become. At first, you denied it. I would advise and say maybe if you don't, things could be different. To approach her, but she wouldn't listen. You can try with all your heart, I encourage it. Please. Her resistance will be painful to witness, and to fight with your sister, but it would all be in the hope that she would realize what's happening. Though, this is just my being overly hopeful for once. The unsweetened facts are that you can't help her. You never could help her. The only person who could help her was herself, and she slammed that door shut on her own long ago.

She's gone already, in mind, and soon to be in body.

Don't try to change the unchangeable, and stay close to your friends. You've lost a few through this, and while you still have most of them, you do miss others. Just stop worrying so much about others, even if it is terribly hard to do right now, and live your life for you.

LUCY

TRANSFERRED TO BEAUXBATONS ACADEMY OF MAGIC FOR TERM FOURTEEN - - -

RP SAMPLE:

Her stomach rumbled and, as she lay in bed, Lucy looked at it, as though that would stop the gurgling noises and the funny feeling that the gurgling noises elicited. So she was hungry, but she was also tired. Even though the sunlight was shining in through the dorm room window like it had no other job and no other students to awaken. No, her stomach hadn’t been the thing that caught her subconscious mind’s eye and had roused her to consciousness – it had been the stupid sunlight that always shone on her face when her roommates forgot to close the effing curtains. They might find a few dead rat bodies in their bed at the night’s end, she decided, throwing her blankets off of herself and rummaging around for pants.

Breakfast should still be going by now, she figured, yanking the leg of a jean on until she realized that her difficulty came from the fact that she was trying to put them on backwards. It went without saying that she managed to get herself dressed correctly and stumble her way from the common room, still tired, still groggy, her mind still fuzzy from the sleep she had and the sleep that she wished she’d had. Her appearance – probably not a very good one, but then she hadn’t really looked at herself in the mirror – earned her a few snickers from girls and guys alike as she roamed the hallways, taking her good ‘ole time getting down to the Great Hall. Either breakfast was still going on or it wasn’t and she would have to get to the kitchens. It was as simple as that.

And, when reaching the Great Hall, she smiled to herself and plopped down at the nearest table. There weren’t enough people in the Hall anyways to question why she was at the a random table, as looking around herself now revealed, and so she reverted her eyes to the table, looking for something that caught her eye. It didn’t take long, as it never did with all the cooking the elves did, for her to spot something that looked really good. Just a little ways down sat a tray of muffins – some looked like they were blueberry, others chocolate chip, others looked like they were banana...Sliding herself along the bench without a care in the world, Luce picked one up, a blueberry she noticed, and brought it to a plate that appeared before her. A knife lay to the right of her plate and she cut the muffin down the middle, looking around for some butter. The muffin was still hot enough to melt the butter successfully and, upon spreading it all over the thing like it wasn’t a glob of fattening lard, she took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.

Her mother, she supposed, couldn’t have made anything better.

And so it went; she continued eating the first muffin before adding a few more to her plate. Now that some of her hunger was satiated, Luciana took the time to actually look around the Hall and note the people that were there. Thus far, none of them looked familiar, but you never knew. Perhaps someone she knew would waltz in and plop themselves down next to her, or perhaps someone she’d never seen before in her life would do just that. Honestly, she didn’t care – she had her muffin, her stomach wasn’t making interesting noises, and a bit of butter was dribbling down her chin. She was content.

[/size]

Please re-write your history and personality in third person not first!

[bridgetmorris]

FIRST NAME: Bridget Lillian.
LAST NAME: Morris.
AGE: Fifteen.

APPEARENCE:

PERSONALITY:

The first thing you should know about Bridget Morris is that she’s dying.

The second thing you should know is that she knows. Everyone else doesn’t know for sure that she’s dying, her illness is rare and complicated, but in her gut, she knows.

The third thing you should know is that she’s okay with it. I mean, for as much as you can be okay with dying.

But that’s not the first thing you think when you meet her, and if it doesn’t come up in conversation you wouldn’t know anything was wrong at all under that crooked little smile of hers. She happens in the world like camera flashes, only just long enough to capture or illuminate some memorable moment and then just as quickly she’s gone, moved on to the next big thing. This means, like camera flashes, at times she can be a little blinding too. The world turns dark around her and one of two things will happen: she either looks a little silly standing there so bright white and all alone, or you forget that there’s anything terrible in the world happening around her. She happens to people in flashes too, always briefly, and never long enough to mean something. She keeps a large circle of acquaintances instead of close-knit friends, although even if she’s only spoken to someone twice when she sees them she treats them with strange familiarity, like an old friend.

She is this, too. She’s familiar. She skips the parts where you talk about the weather and gets right to the meat of it. She can’t stand small-talk, doesn’t know how to bother with the pleasantries anymore. It’s too exhausting to keep up with the little mazes people build between each other. But she’s charming, and this helps. She’s charming in a way that is conducive to livening up a dull dinner party or making a conversation last for hours. She is full of curiosities. She likes to hear another’s thoughts on the world, filling herself up with philosophies from every individual she comes across. She views people like self-enclosed worlds, each with their own rules, religion, culture. She’s enthusiastic about unlocking the arcane in a person, learning how to cohabitate with them, taking on their customs so that she might live a little like someone else for a short while. The world is big, big, big and Bridget’s only scratched the surface so she tries to dig in her nails as deep as she can, holding onto the earth and everyone in it as though they are threatening to catapult her off.

She has her dark moments, too. Sometimes she feels as if she absolutely can’t live unless she’s in a room full of people, but once there she can’t bring herself to say a single word to any of them. She likes to hide inside of herself for a few hours, listening to her favorite song on repeat, and then it’s as if she’s stopped the whole world from spinning. If there’s anything that Bridget values, it’s time. She is always aware of it, checking her wristwatch throughout the day with an almost obsessive compulsion. She keeps a planner that’s full of the all that’s happened and all that will happen, scattered and mismatched notes that she piles up and saves like a scrapbook.

If someone disagrees with her, she doesn’t get angry. Instead she becomes possessed with a passion to know why. She can latch onto something, anything that interests her even a little bit and won’t let it go until she’s satisfied with what she’s learned. In this way, Bridget keeps herself busy, enjoying her passing fancies. Her life is an exaggeration. Average people go through phases slowly, they take their time to get to know something before they let it go, but Bridget doesn’t have enough time for that, so she goes through everything at lightening speed. She has to make quick judgments, decide things right away. She lives at ten times the speed a normal person does. She feels everything in life ten times more deeply too.

This means she doesn’t sleep much, almost never eats enough, and rarely slows down long enough to take care of herself. She can feel her illness growing inside of her, and as the years pass she has grown weaker than she was before. She goes through months where she has to disappear inside the hospital completely, get fed and rested and rejuvenated so she can do it all over again.

Bridget may be impossible to pin down for very long, but she will give you the most honest opinion you will ever want and the warmest hug you will ever receive. In the meanwhile, she will stretch out time as long as she can by living loudly and experiencing everything for the first time twice.

HISTORY:

A girl of thirteen is grimacing in her sleep. She is not awake yet, but when she does awaken it will be to the first day of the end of her life.

She’s in a cold sweat when her eyes open, even though her skin feels as if it’s on fire. She calls out to her mom in the middle of the night, the summer night where the crickets are making their songs and the air is a little humid. She calls to her mom because her fingers are clenching the sheets and she can’t make the ringing in her ears stop. This is the first of her night sweats, and although they don’t come frequently after the first time, they still come. They punctuate long periods of quiet, of health, and then her body feels as if it’s breaking all over again. It’s as if nothing’s changed from that first night, as if instead of getting better she is only staying the same.

“It’s a very rare condition.”

They tell her this a lot over the first months she spends at St. Mungo’s. They tell her it’s a disease running inside of her blood, in the smallest particles, in places not even magic can reach. It makes her weak, tired, makes her body ache in places she had never known existed. Over the course of those first few months she is bound to her bed, subjected to a slew of potions and spells. They finally find something, she seems to be reacting to well, she is opening her eyes and she can see the world clearly now instead of in shapes and it’s as if the whole world is suddenly new.

It is two months into her fourth year by the time she can breathe without hurting again and her parents tell her, “You can still catch up, you don’t have to miss all of it.” She is shaking her head then, thinking about the friends she’s made and the house she’s come to love. She’s thinking about how she wanted to try out for the Quidditch team and how she wanted to prove to McGonagall that she really was good at Transfiguration. But it doesn’t measure up to everything that’s happening outside of her hospital window so she just shakes her head, apologizing, saying, “I can’t go back. I’m sorry.”

There is too much to see. She’s never been more serious in her life, and so she drops out of school to see everything she can. Her mother takes her when she can; her father takes her when he can. She spends a lot of time with her grandmother, up in the Irish highlands in her house that looks like a miniature castle, all made of stone and moss and secret passageways. Her grandmother takes her to see the world when her parents can’t—and she goes to France, Spain, Russia, Italy, even Thailand. She goes to America, briefly, because she wants to see what the cities are like and what all the fuss is about the Grand Canyon. The places are innumerable, she starts to forget to differentiate between them and they all seem to happen at once. More and more she drifts apart from the friends she made at Hogwarts, even those in her neighborhood, and soon she is almost entirely living inside of herself. Only a little bit of anything allowed at a time, even people, or else there won’t be room for everything. She makes these rules for herself, so that she can allocate her time properly, so that everything has its turn. Although she is only a young girl, she is accumulating the entire world in pieces.

Her parents urge her to return to school, “It will be good for you, don’t you think?” But she is always just shaking her head, knowing that she can’t tell them she is dying. Although no one has decided that she’s dying yet, she knows it in her heart. She knows it when the potions fail the first time and she’s forced to go back to St. Mungo’s for more months of being bed bound. These visits punctuate the time she spends around the globe (they interrupt a hike in New Zealand, they interrupt her taking pictures of the pyramids in Egypt). There are more spells, and more potions. They work to revive her, to keep her going.

But one day it all caught up with her. It became too much, they stopped her. She was forced to go back to school. But unlike earlier, this time she was forced to attend Beauxbatons, the French wizarding school. But her magic is fading, so how can she stay there for long?

They are noticing new things now, “How is her magic? Can she still perform spells?” She is shaking her head again, knowing that even the simplest charms are eluding her more and more. Her wand is becoming less of a tool and more of an artifact. She feels her magic fading. So she is always living as loudly as she can in its place, she is amassing the world in pieces, quickly, at the speed of light. She keeps moving because if she sits still too long the world is going to catch up to her, she knows it.

She’s dying, and she wishes they could say it already, confirm what she already feels, what she already knows.

RP SAMPLE:

- - - HER TIME TRAVELLING THE WORLD, RATHER THEN BEING AT HOGWARTS.

They were very similar in this. Bridget carried a camera around her neck almost at all hours of the day, strapping her humorously large brown leather bag over her shoulder and stuffing it with a notepad and scarves and a water bottle so she wouldn’t have to stop for too long to warm herself or quench her thirst, and the notebook so that she would always have a place to write her thoughts while she kept moving forward. She took pictures. Not professionally, perhaps not even very skillfully, but she collected the world through the lens, through her eyes, so that at the end of it perhaps it might matter to someone besides herself. There was a very big chance that it wouldn’t matter, not to anyone else, but accumulating the moments that made it worth it was the only thing that really mattered to her.

They were not too different, no, though the finer points, the spots where their two shades differentiated, were perhaps where their greatest differences were. He was thrusting himself into life as if on a suicide mission to live exuberantly or have his insides burst, while she curiously followed the world on its heels, like a child. Yet they were both running to keep up, to catch up, to make it count.

She had been released from St. Mungo’s the week prior, after enduring another of her bad spells. Now, the potions were working, new ones, this time stronger. Her body ceased to ache so much though she still felt her skin grow a little hot in the nights, as if the magic inside of her was still clenching tight onto her body, afraid that it might disappear completely. She decided to stay in England a little while longer with her parents, because they’d missed her during the time she’d spent at the hospital. She split her time between their flat and her nana’s house in Ireland which would, despite all the places she had visited, still be her favorite place in the world. It was in this moment of stillness that she decided to go out on a whim and explore what parts of the country she hadn’t before, and, through a series of unimportant events, she found herself in Liverpool with a camera lens to her eye as she took photos by the Albert Dock.

Though the scene was grey and pallid, she relished in the feeling of frostiness and isolation. The morning was still early and it was not yet full of people, only the echoes of the worker’s voices in the background, adding complimentary notes to the water hitting against the mossy stone. She leaned forward against the railings, raising herself to her tip-toes to get the perfect angle of the waterfront buildings, and then released herself, back on the ground. This was a common image for Bridget Morris, taking in the world one blink at a time, always on her tip-toes, trying to get the right angle.

The voice, familiar, pulled her out of her reverie, and she wheeled around to face Mason Blake with a smile. (Mason Blake, she remembered, the boy who was a little loud and grumpy at St. Mungo’s.) “And what’s wrong with Liverpool, not much of a fan?” She paused, smiling as she turned the camera on him, snapping a picture without warning. She peeked out from behind it, grinning as she shrugged, “Have you seen this place at night, when everything is lit up? The lights reflecting on the water from the buildings, it makes it seem like there are two worlds here, and by some act of miracle they exist in perfect harmony.” She observed the young man she had gotten to know amidst the tragedy of Trafalgar Square. She wondered if he worked on looking miserable, or if it came naturally to him. “The real question is, are you still raiding James Dean’s closet or is it still just a coincidence?” she laughed, fingering his leather jacket.

She lifted up her camera, tilting it in the air with a mischievous smile and added, “Shall I take another? This time with a little warning, maybe?”

Yes, they were snapshots and Polaroids, but they were never meant to tether, to trap.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

size=3]Must be Rouerie[/size]

[madelaine]

First Name: Madelaine

Middle Name Anne

Last Name: Langlois

Age: 15

Appearance: here

History:
Her family began as a rich, intelegant family in northern France. But times got tough and her father, Mark de Lou Langlois, spent all he had on drinking. The only axcess her mother father and brother had was a small thousand dollars to keep them covered for awhile. Madelaine's brother, Jeremy Gerard Langlois was suffering the most. He was growing a drug problem and hanging around with the wrong croud.
Maddy wouldn't give up though. She tryed as hard as she could, begged her father to stop and at least go to rehab. But her father declined and told his beautiful daughter that it was for the best of the family.

Maddy was home schooled as well, her father was her teacher, but after his problems, she had to learn from her mother. Madelaine was the type who snuck out late at night, but she was no longer axcess to all the money she could get her hands on. Maddy's mother, Genevieve Enita Langlois, eventually died after a short while after her family was almost starving. She died of starvation. Just as Madelaine and Jeremy were getting close to being dead, a married couple found them walking along the streets and decided to take them to the ministry of children to find a foster home.

Personality:
arrogant, if there's one thing in this world that maddy is sure about, it's herself. she's extremely confident and it's obvious - as a matter of fact, so much so that she's often been referred to as arrogant. however, the opinions others have about her never seemed to bother her in the least. as far as she's concerned, her inflated ego is much more of a blessing rather than a burden. since when was it bad to have confidence in yourself? according to her, never. she views confidence as one of the most attractive traits a person can have, and so she maintains hers well.

promiscuous, although she's not as obvious about it as other girls may be, madelaine has a dirty little habit of sleeping around. she's a very flirtatious person by nature; infact, she often doesn't even realize when she's flirting. from the way she talks to the way she bats her eyelashes, she oozes seduction, something that seems to entice many boys. she's very in touch with her sexuality and often uses it to her advantage. despite all this, she has an almost dangerous but naive appeal to her. her young, fresh face practically screams innocence. don't be fooled by this facade, though - because that's all it is: a facade.

creative, maddy was born an artist. this was very clear when she began to play the piano at the tender age of six years old. even as a toddler, she had a real knack for anything artistic. while she kept up with her piano lessons, she also began to display an interest in both drawing and painting. she dedicated much of her time to all of these hobbies, working at each of them individually until she reached her own standards of perfection. in the fifth grade, she showed a new interest in sketching out clothing designs. ever since, she has been working towards becoming a fashion designer. she intertwines her creativity into every aspect of her life, usually catching the interest and curiousity of many people.

bitchy, maddy is, to be blunt, quite a b*tch. she's not your typical loud, obnoxious, in-your-face, gossipy kind of b*tch, but more of a quiet, subtle one, keeping most of her crude opinions to herself (unless, of course, you ask her for her honest opinion). she's a tad stuck up and isn't afraid to associate with you or outcast you depending on what dorm you belong to. however, if you do manage to befriend her, she's as loyal as a puppy, and will automatically become the sweetest girl you could possibly imagine.

rebellious, maddy has a history of being a bit rebellious towards her family. she grew up in a wealthy, upperclass household - however, she was never interested in the money her parents so careless wasted, or the fine gifts they could buy her. her arrogant and pretentious personality did not come from her wealth, as many seem to assume. infact, she almost resented her parents for the way they splurged on luxuries. as a result of this resentment, madelaine began to rebel from her parents and their wishes for her in various ways, such as bringing home "bad boy" types instead of the clean cut gentlemen her parents had hoped for her, and aspiring to become a fashion designer rather than a lawyer, like her parents had planned.

Sample RP:
A simple evening it was. It was snowing a really light creamy colour and it was a Friday night. Maddy was sitting on her bed. She felt lonley for once. Her foster parents Amelle and Judé are caring and warm. Madelaine could hear her brother's music blaring, but it was acually nice. It truley felt like home. Christmas was a few days away and Maddy wanted nothing more to spend it together with her family. It would acually be nice.

The lights were off in Maddy's room, the only trace of light was from the porch outside the window. Maddy stared at the snow, watching it, expecting something to happen. She thought it was a beautiful, "natural" night. And it was. Maddy looked around her room, expecting nothing to happen. It was a messy room, she was capable of cleaning it, but she was just too lazy.

Maddy lay her head on her pillow and started to daze off to sleep.

srry its a little bad

Please extend on the history and on the rp sample which should be 3 paragraphs[/b]

[smirnov]

First Name:
Anatoly
Middle Name:
Grigoriy
Last Name:
Smirnov
Age:
18
Appearance:

History:
Born on the 3rd May 1991, Anatoly Grigoriy Smirnov should have signified a fresh start for his family like the season of his birth, spring, did for the new year. For a time, his birth was celebrated - his mother Wilma immersing herself in his care and his big blue eyes. His sister,Yulia, was ecstatic to have a playmate, no matter the age difference, and he was thoroughly spoiled by her attentions.

The only shadow, was a minor one - and that had been the question of his name. His father, Sergej, had expected his first son to follow the Russian tradition of having a patronic second name...but Wilma had refused adamantly, naming her son something completely obscure with no reference to her husband. His name meant 'dawn' and for her, he was the dawn of a new chapter in her life, and one she had vowed she would try harder on.

The new dawn of her life however, didnt last long. Within a few months, Anatoly was deprived of the sole attention she had given him at his birth - Wilma reverting to old habits and offering her attentions elsewhere. Anatoly was not a loud child, and unlike most, didn't scream the house down - allowing his mother to conduct her sordid affairs without much interference. Instead, he waited for Yulia to come home from school, his little face brightening as she leaned over his cot. His most beloved possession was Yulia's old teddybear from her younger years, one that she'd now passed onto him. It was a fact that he adored her, and she was the only one who could settle him now in the light of Wilma's carelessness.

For several months it remained the same, Yulia coming home early, Wilma explaining away the men who trailed through her house. However, when Anatoly began to toddle, it became more difficult for her to ignore her responsibilities. She also privately worried that his first words would be a repeat of something he had overheard between her and one of her lovers. She didn't worry for him, more for what would happen to her if it should happen.

Not for the first time, Wilma was able to turn her life around - focusing on her young son and trying to silently make amends with her daughter. It had not escaped her that her 'treasured' son, the dawn of her new chapter, seemed to love everyone else more than her. He had replaced her with Yulia. His father came second, thrilling his son with pretend games, tossing him in the air like a rag doll to Anatoly's joyful screeches for more. Sergej was the only one who told the bedtime story just right. Life appeared to be good, and the ever naive Sergej was content, overjoyed with his 'perfect' family. Even Yulia seemed happier.

But old habits die hard...and Wilma was no exception to this. When Anatoly hit four, she started drinking again. Yulia was no long in finding this out, Anatoly standing in the doorway, teddybear tucked under his arm as he watched his mother offer Yulia some of the cheap wine she had opted to drown in. He didn't understand their exchange, nor the look of disgust or unhappiness on Yulia's face as she left the room. Instead, he spent long hours sitting by the sofa and his unconcious mother playing alone quite happily - his mothers head lolling on the pillow admist a cloud alcohol scented air.

Infidlity reared it's ugly head again also, but this time Wilma had planned it during the long hours of alcohol induced sleeplessness beside her innocent husbands side. Anatoly would go to a friend's house. Her next door neighbour, Katya, had a young son about Anatoly's age named Pyotr. He was an only child, and Katya regularly had other young boys from the neighbourhood in to combat her son's lonliness and she was only too willing to take on Anatoly, if only because she doubted Wilma's on-off mothering skills. She was not blind to the men that came by during the day, but as was her way, kept her mouth shut. She was only sorry she couldnt do more for the saddeningly lovely Yulia. This was to become a routine for the next year of his life.

The first changes came when Anatoly was five. After a routine day with Katya, Pyotr and the other boys - Anatoly anticipated the arrival of his flushed mother. He was an intelligent boy for his age, and whilst he didn't mind the company of the other boys - he found their agressive war-like games a little tedious and much preffered spending time with his battered teddy and the worlds he had inside his own imagination. He had gotten used to not needing or having someone else around to occupy him, and if the truth be known - he was only interested in spending time with his sister or father...and neither of those arrived until later.

The time for collection came and went, and by this time Anatoly had abandoned all pretence of playing with the other boys. Instead he remained pressed against the window, watching and waiting. But it was not his mother that came to collect him. Hours later, Yulia arrived - even to his young eyes obviously upset, distraght even. He couldn't keep up with the gabbled coversation between her and their neighbour Katya...but about half hour later, the sound of Police sirens arrived. Yulia kept him close, his head often pressed into her side, despite him wanting to see what was going on. Everyone seemed to be crying or looking sad and his mother still hadn't arrived.

For Anatoly it was all very confusing, and slightly exciting. Expecially the part where he and Yulia had to undertake a journey to a new city, St. Petersberg - one of the most beautiful cities in Russia. This excitement was cut short however, by ther slightly tearful and serious explanation of their journey by Yulia. They were going to live with their Grandmother, because their Mother and Father couldn't look after them anymore. By the tone of Yulia's voice and the tears in her eyes, Anatoly dimly understood that this was not something to be excited about...and he wouldn't be seeing his Mother and Father again. It was not until he was older that the full circumstances of their death would be explained to him by his Grandmother.

They were greeted readily enough by their Grandmother, who mourned the loss of her son, berated her daughter-in-law and infact - did a lot of talking, all of which Anatoly didn't understand. In fact, he fell asleep on his Grandmothers lap whilst she continued to talk to Yulia.

The next few years of his life brought an about turn in his life. Yulia no longer went to school, which he was ecstatic about, and her lessons at home by their Grandmother were extremely exciting and very interesting. The practice of magic for him was not the revelation it was for his older sister, as he'd been playing make-believe at this for years at home when alone. The only thing he found slighlty unsettling was the unhappiness he found in Yulia sometimes, but it was rare - and she was often overly happy around him so he didn't worry too much.

Anatoly didn't escape lessons either, their Grandmother believing that the younger the start, the better. You didn't pick up bad habits. Along with the magical lessons, his Grandmother had him begin reading, learning fluent english, french and latin, mathematics and other run of the mill subjects. She also taught him music, which was his favourite lesson and he showed a considerable natural adeptness for most instruments, particularly the Violin. He'd never been a talkative or outgoing boy, but the Violin was his one release, and whilst only young he showed great promise and potential.

Yulia had been distant in his life for some time. She still shared meals with him, and they shared magical lessons also but for a few months she had been attending a local school - and her eight year old brother had noticed some changes in his older sister. The disagreements between his Grandmother and sister became more frequent, and even when not, there was an underlying tension. He remained silent, trying to plead Yulia with his eyes to come and play with him, to spend time with him like she used to. His Grandmother told him not to waste his time. And perhaps she had been right.

Shortly after, Yulia left. His Grandmother didn't take the time out to say goodbye, merely made herself busy by reading - and Anatoly didn't notice that she stayed on the same page for over two hours, or that her eyes seemed slightly misty behind her glasses. It was one of those days he'd never forget...hands pressed up against the steamy window, teddybear cupped ot his chest and big blue eyes watching Yulia walking off into the grey day with her bags, without a backward glance.

For weeks he would take up his position by the window at the time Yulia used to come home from school. He'd wait for an hour, solidly watching out the window, patient as time itself. His Grandmother didn't tell him to come down, and would often come and stand next to him silently, her hand ruffling his dark hair. After six months, his visits to the window dwindled - only happening when he heard a noise outside that could mean someone was coming in. He ran to the door everytime there was knock, only to be disappointed and run off leaving them standing there. He felt sure there must be something wrong with him. His mother and father had left him...and now Yulia. What happened if he ended up all alone?

After a year he had stopped waiting for Yulia, and focused entirely on learning. His Grandmother was only too eager to supply his thirst for learning, and in some ways, possibly felt that though her son had been taken from her - she had been given Anatoly to make up for it.

When Anatoly turned eleven, he was sent a letter from the Durmstrang Institute of Magic. His Grandmother did not like the reputation of this school, and used this as an exuse to turn it down. However, it was more likely that she didn't want to lose Anatoly. As he aged, he began to look less and less like either of his parents, his blue eyes neither green nor brown, and the only resemblance he had leaning towards his mother and sister. Deep down, having heard about her daughter-in-law's 'free time', his Grandmother privately wondered if Anatoly was even her son's blood. If he was even pureblood. But she loved the boy, and he had become more of a son to her than she had ever anticipated, and warmed the years of her life she had expected to be lonely and cold. Besides, Yulia was her blood, and he was Yulia's blood either way. Therefore he was her grandson by default.

The years rolled by, and Anatoly dipped into writing music. He spent more and more time composing and playing his haunting melodies than he did doing anything else. His Grandmother attempted to bring round other Russian Witches and Wizards, ones of pureblood class of course, but Anatoly was reserved...almost indifferent to their aimless chatter. Infact, he almost looked bored and when he did speak, his voice was laced with disdain, scorn and ususally mentioned something brutally honest about their character. Having spent years living inside his own head and only alongside his brutally honest Grandmother, Anatoly's social skills were not the best. His only companion was the local grocery deliverer. He often stopped in on his rounds, and reeked heavily of alcohol. If his Grandmother was around , he would be ushered on, but the old man was a source of fascination to Anatoly, and also the source of the learnings of life outside the cottonwool his Grandmother wrapped around him. Anatoly loved fiercely, but only of those deserving. In his mind, the pampered upper class were far from deserving and he longed to go and meet others like grocery man.

When he reached fifteen, he became intrigued by his past, renewing his interest in finding his sister. He had been informed by his Grandmother some years earlier that she'd left to travel...and that his parents were dead. Honest and clipped. Detail was never her forte. Indepth research brought forth the ugly truth, that his father had killed his mother in a fit of rage. He was disturbed by this, because the image he'd always had of his father had been gentle, loving and kind. A family man. He pondered this for sometime...eventually coming to the conclusion (with the help of lewd grocery man) that his mother had done something that had injured his Father so deeply, he had no choice. After some umming and ahhing...it was concluded that he'd found her with another man.

This was an interesting prospect, and it quickly noted by Anatoly's sharp mind that he bore little resemblance to either of his parents..if only a little towards his mother. He didn't query this with his Grandmother, choosing to contemplate it alone, as if saying it aloud would shatter the family bonds he had with her.

A year later, aged sixteen, Anatoly resolved to return to the village in the hopes of finding more out about himself and his past. He also hoped to route out possible candidates for his father, if possible. His Grandmother understood, but never the less didn't want him to go. Anatoly's visit was short, and didn't leave him feeling better about his elusive father. Upon returning to the house, which was constantly changing hands due to it's bloody history he was disappointed to find nothing of use, so instead toured the museums of Myshkin out of interest. One he never intends to visit again is the Ethnographical Museum.

A tall lean man with thinning dark hair, obviously the curator, stood making a group of young children laugh. His obvious awkwardness was out of place with the skill in which he performed subtle tricks. It was so out of place tha the teachers were quick to hurry the children along worriedly, unsure what made them feel so uncomfortable. But Anatoly knew. And when the man turned and met his gaze with eyes that could have been Anatoly's....Anatoly knew this man should be more than a curator to him. The distance between them was not great, but even from there Anatoly could smell the alcohol. Sadness etched the mans features, which once could have been handsome, making them appear older than he was. For a long moment they held each other's eyes, confusion in the curator's, and grim disdain in Anatoly's. He did't care that the sadness and alcohol might be due to his mothers death. And in that moment, he decided that Sergej was his father. He had been his only father. He turned on his heel, leaving the curator feeling as though he had missed something important, and never went back.

Returning home, his Grandmother was pleased to see that he looked as though he'd resolved something, his warmth having come back even though he appeared disappointed. Whilst he had been gone, she had had time to consider his future - and decided he needed to mix with other people his age, socialize a bit. She also knew she had taught him all she could...and that he needed to go somewhere else. And so he was signed up to Beauxbatons, in France - to start a new chapter in his life.

Personality:
Elegantly awkward would be an excellant way to describe Anatoly Smirnov. Socialising is not his forte, and hence he always looks a little uncomfortable in social gatherings or groupings of more than one or two. His mind works brilliantly, almost too brilliantly - and having grown up with his Grandmother most of his life, he is not familar with social etiquette and such things as tact, or white lies. In fact he despises it. He hates the charade of socialsing, and mch prefers raw, open emotion. Like that of music.

Being more of a watcher has leant Anatoly certain skills in replacement of his awkward socialising. He is an excellent people-reader, having spent hours sitting on the sidelines watching the way people interact and move. He is very good at spotting the little giveaways people give when being deceitful and doesn't hesitate in telling them. This can make him appear cold, rude even but I assure this is not the case. Anatoly is cripplingly shy and simply doesn't know ho to react. He would rather stand on the sidelines than face having to interact with someone, and the thought of makng casual conversation is beyond him. He's never had experience of any of it. His voice is low, but carries well enough and despite it's melodic quality...it sounds slightly broken, his words inelegant and jagged, his sentences halting. He thinks before he speaks, and usually that means over every word.

Inwardly, Anatoly is relatively calm - usually too detached from himself because of watching everything else to even feel his own emotions. In this way, he is good at controlling himself. His anger is slow to light, and slow to burn. He is not very forgiving, and it can take years for him to consider forgetting something others might find trivial. When embarrassed, sad or angry, he simply clams up - outwardly getting stonier, colder and more and more quiet. His anger is soft, yet hits with the power of a viper, his words hissed out yet hitting the most sensitive points with surprising accuracy. The best way to gauge his emotion is to listen to him play...because that truly is the music of his soul.

Love and Romancing are not something of a regular for Anatoly, his odd persona often too much work for the females wanting a quick fix, and his chilly disdain and silences too painful for the faint hearted, romance seeking fluffy females. Likewise with friends. However, when he does make friends, they can expect his undivided loyalty.

Sample RP:
Pages lay across the wooden floor like scattered thoughts, his elegantly illegible handwriting drawn across the parchment in monochrome swirls occasionally emphasised by smatters of ink. None of the pages had titles for the masses of usical notes dictated, and none had numbers to suggest some form of order. They were but snippings from his soul, and for him, they needed no form or order. He knew by glancing at the very first note everything he could possibly need.

But all of these were discarded today, left open for all to see. If they could understand it. Antoly focused on his newest composition, only a few lines scrawled across a page. Scanning it with narrowed blue eyes for a long moment, he eventually discarded it with a flick of a long, elegant hand and took up his Violin. He tested a few strings, feeling the cut of the them against the pads of his fingers, sweeping the bow rhymically to draw forth a few bittersweet notes.

And then he was lost. Launching without warning into his epic piece, the beginning already a dramatic end filled with furious energy. Notes all but sparked from the mahogany Violin, flying out unfinished only to be completed by the next one in an endless motion.

"Анатолий, обед!"

His playing was stopped in an ungainly skittering of strings. Lunch. He smiled wryly, hearing his Grandmother shuffling about downstairs, her voice an undertone. "Далее в бабушку" He responded. He was coming. Settling the Violin down, he made a quick adjustment to his newest composition with a flick of his quill - and left the room for lunch.

*Sorry for any mispronunciations in Russian...I used Google language tools and i know it's not always correct. ^.^ I just wanted the Russian vibe!


I'm really sorry about the length of the history....I was trying to flesh out the character and got carried away. I didn't know where to cut it to make it smaller either!! So I've been a little stingy on the RP post and the personality because of it....but let me know if you need me to expand. ^.^

Must be Rouerie but be careful with your spelling (the English one)!

[antigone]

First Name:
Antigone's

Last Name:
Grey

Age:
Forever seventeen

Appearance:
Antigone’s stunning moonlight white skin almost glistens in the light, her dazzling blue eyes are hidden under her jet-black waist long hair that's usually pulled back in a French plait, she’s not tall but has a very slender and defined figure.

History:
At birth Antigone's mother was half vela half wizard but in a struggle is infused with vampire at the age of 12, she keeps this a secret to all including her new husbands' family, who includes his vampire sister, at the age of 16 she gives birth to Antigone who is quickly stolen away by her vampiric aunt. Who, oblivious to the vampire jeans in the young Childs body injects her with vampire venom. Antigone grows older but very slowly and at the time she resembles a ten year old witch hunts are all the rage, so her aunt and the rest of the wizarding world goes into hiding were they meet up with Antigone’s true parents who swiftly take her back. However during a raid of their village the flames separate them again, this time leaving Antigone alone. Antigone have slowly stopped ageing, at 17, and now has been to many a wizarding schools, there’s only a few in the world that have never seen her face upon their walls of portraits. She repeats her school years as her mind is not big enough for all her memories and she finds relearning things help her remember.

Personality:
Her loneliness has made her divide her self from the rest of the world. Her old age at heart has made her hotheaded so she’ll crack if someone really gets on her nerves. She must swallow her pride as she swallows in the blood of animals to survive, She lurks in the shadows listening, she know when and how the use her words wisely.

Sample RP:
Antigone walks through an old house; hers of coarse, portraits of her family fill the walls of the three-story mansion all have secrets panted on the canvases, as she walks she cries blurring the pictures from her view. She wears a long brown tartan fitted dress the hem stained in fresh blood. She kneels in front of a painting of an older woman who looked much like her self.
'Forgive me mother for I have sinned,' she whispers, 'I've taken another live and he was an innocent man he must of had a family...'
'Shh… My darling,' her mothers portrait comforted her in her soothing tone, 'its your nature its what I did to you, what we did to you.' she waves her hand towards another woman on the opposite wall three painting down, of her vampiric aunt.
'How dare you blame me, Eleanor, it was your fault for not telling everyone,'
'Amabilia, it is as much your fault as mine,' she almost screamed back.
'Mother, Aunt Amabilia, please stop it, stop it, if you don't stop fighting I’ll... I’ll,' Antigone pleaded.
'You'll what go back to school, so your mother will miss you, trust me she wont,' Amabilia screeched.
'Maybe that’s a good idea, honey you should go back to school and you haven’t been a student at Beaux batons since the founder was head mistress.'
'Fine if you don't want me then I’ll go.' Antigone flung her arms out and her luggage appeared at her finger tips 'I’m going have fun, Rigunth, broth keep them from fighting,' she whispered to her brother, and left without another word

Please extend on the personality and history and format your rp sample into paragraphs, we ask for a minimum of three

[lostariel]

FIRST NAME:

Lostariel (Lost-are-ee-ell)

MIDDLE NAME:

Eruanna (Air-oo-ahn-nah)

LAST NAME:

Knight

NICKNAMES:

Lost & Ariel

BLOOD:

Elvish

AGE:

17

APPEARANCE:

PERSONALITY:

Lostariel has been described as 'bi-polar' by her close friends and family since one minute she can be completely happy and smiley while the next she'll be chewing someone's head off for some small mistake they did. She likes it when things get done her way or just not all all since she thinks her way is better then the rest. Lostariel a lot of the time does come off as a complete show off and very cocky, because she's one of the best figure skaters in America she thinks she is really better then everyone else no matter who they are. Though there is another side to her which most aren't as fortunate to see; she can be fairly kind hearted and a sweet, normal teenage girl. As long as everything goes the way she has planned it out in her mind or with her mother she has no problem with anyone as far as they're concerned.

She can be very fashion obsessed a lot of the time since she knows she's one of the best she knows she's going to have to look her best, to set a sort of example and all that. Lostariel has a sort of knack for fashion and normally designs and makes her own figure skating appeal. Secretly she just wishes she was able to make more friends then she currently has now, but lostariel knows that the only way she'll be able to do that is if she quits skating. It seems as though the more she skates the less of a relationship she has with her friends and family because she doesn't have much free time for them or even for herself. And because of that she is slightly depressed from time to time especially when she sees other skaters hanging out with their friends and family or even talking about them.

HISTORY:

Born in Brooklyn, New York to a used-to-be-ice-princess and a college professor for a father. At a young age she was placed into ice skating by her mother and had taken lesson since she was able to walk. Her mother generally felt the need to relive her skating days through Lostariel, though she really had no problem with that since she loved figure skating. When she wasn't skating she was being taught by her father on top of her normal schooling. Lostariel didn't have many friends since she looked a bit different from everyone else; due to her elvish physical traits. Having to satisfy both of her parents with skating and intelligence was beginning to become a challenge and caused her to become overworked, bi-polar, and depressed at the age of thirteen. Due to all the press coverage she was receiving form her skating career she became vain and overly cocky.

Lostariel never had many friends, at school or even in the skating world. She wasn't even the outcast type, she was just becoming bit more intimidating to most due to her excessive confidence and new personality traits. Though now she has been trying to take a break from skating and life in general since she received an acceptance letter to beauxbatons academy. Both her parents do agree with this change of pace, but will be quite eager to take her back with open arms and the same routine if she ever wanted to leave earlier then expected.

SAMPLE RP:

Lostariel stood up against an ally wall in between Gucci and Valentino. she was growing impatient as she twirled the platinum card her father had given to her with no limit. At the moment she was awaiting for her friend Tracy who was only late by a few minutes. Being near all these different stores reminded Lostariel of her home back in America when she would visit her family and go shopping while being accompanied by a few of her family's body guards. It was pretty fun to try and find ways to ditch them or even freak them out in any sort of way. Because they all knew that if Lostariel had even so much as a small prick on her finger then her father would have their heads, literally and figuratively. Letting out a small sign she pushed herself up from the wall with one hand and walked out behind a small crowd of people.

None of them really noticed her except for two teen aged girls in the back, who were watching her credit card with jealousy in their eyes as well as wonder. Yes very few people here knew of Lostariel's family or even who she was in general really; most just knew she was rich. Even so there were a few others who were 'famous' for their money and status she was really one of the few who just loved to show it all off. Lostariel let her blue eyes wonder around the surrounding area, watching out for Tracy in case she had to somehow call her over. There were just groups of teenagers and their parents as well as lots of college students and couples walking around like there weren't many cares in the world. A lot of the store managers were watching Lostariel and her credit card like lions waiting for her to get close enough for them to attack her with sales and clothing.

She laughed them off for a moment and began to wonder around the mall, really just window shopping for the time being until Tracy found her or she found Tracy. Lostariel was beginning to grow board and her hand was just itching to slide that card of hers and to carry as many bags as it could handle. She placed her card safely into her wallet and place it into her purse while she continued to walk and not bump into random people. The walkways near the stores really weren't that crowded as it would be on some days, but then again it was only Friday (thank god). More students would be out and about tomorrow, which lucky for Lostariel she'd be able to get first picks of the new clothes which came out as well as all the new sales which had just started.

[/size]
Please expand a little bit more you personality mentioning about her magical site in order for me to be able to sort you.

[noah]

First Name: Noah

Middle Name: Isaac

Last Name: Fitzpatrick

Age: 12

Appearance:

(Nathan Gamble)

History: Noah Isaac Fitzpatrick is the youngest child born to Stuart and Marie Fitzpatrick. He has an older sister called Hannah who is 3 years older than him. Now lets move on to the history of the Fitzpatrick family.

Stuart and Marie met at Beauxbatons. Stuart - who was of Irish ancestry but born in France - was an intelligent student in Roeurie and Marie was a very talented student in Cossu. Marie was having a bit of trouble with one of her classes, so she asked one of her close friends to tutor her. This friend was Stuart and Marie realized that she was starting to fall in love with him. The minute Stuart noticed that Marie had a crush on him, he asked her out. The two were going out through the rest of their school lives. When they both graduated from Beauxbatons, Stuart proposed to Marie and she said yes. This all happened in 1992.

The newly married couple settled into life for 21 months until Marie announced that she was 6 months pregnant. On March 9th 1994, Marie gave birth to a baby girl who was named Hannah Isabelle Fitzpatrick. 2 months after Hannah's 3rd birthday, Marie announced that she was 8 months pregnant. She had known all along that she was pregnant but she didn't want to tell her husband or her daughter that she was having a baby boy. On May 9th 1997, Marie went into labour and gave birth to a handsome baby boy who was named Noah Isaac Fitzpatrick. He was the apple of his mum's eye and she and Hannah were very protective of him.

Noah was so cute during his younger years and he still didn't lose the cuteness as he got older. His first day at school didn't go smoothly because he didn't want to leave Marie. When he was 8, Noah accidentally found out that he had a talent for music. His sister had just left for Beauxbatons and Noah was missing her so he picked up his mum's guitar and started playing a sad song that he had heard his mother play. Marie was in the kitchen at this moment and heard gentle guitar playing. She left what she was doing and went into the living room. She saw that Noah was playing her guitar so Marie decided there and then that she was going to buy the 8 year old his first guitar. On Noah's 9th birthday he surprised everyone by displaying his first sign of magic. Every time he blew his candles out, He somehow kept relighting them without touching the candles.

The day that Noah got his Beauxbatons acceptance letter was just an ordinary day. He was just sitting in the living room of his house doing a bit of sketching. He had just found out his talent for art so he decided to draw a lot. The next minute a white envelope dropped through the letter box. Noah went over and saw that the words "Dear Noah" was written on the envelope in fancy writing.

Now he is at Beauxbatons and is really enjoying it. He can now see his sister nearly everyday as she is here too.

Personality: Noah is the cutest twelve year old boy that you would ever meet. He is so sweet and loves to make friends. He is also shy so it is hard for him to greet people. He doesn't like people getting overly protective of him because his mum was very protective of him during his childhood. Despite his small stature, Noah can easily get irritated and snap at someone if they annoy him.

The main aspect of Noah's personality is his creativeness. He is really good at music even though he has only been doing it for 4 years. He can play the guitar and has been playing it for 4 years. He can sing a little bit and he can also play the alto sax. Noah has a talent for art. He doesn't like painting or sculpting. He loves drawing cartoons and can make up his own cartoon characters in the space of 10 minutes.

Sample RP: It was the morning of Noah's first day at Beauxbatons and the twelve year old was still fast asleep. The next minute he heard a gentle voice which sounded like his mum's and woke up there and then. The young boy got up, rubbed his eyes and then got changed trying not to fall asleep again. As Noah was getting changed, he caught a glance at his alarm clock and saw that it was 8:30. The young blonde had never woken up that early before.

After getting changed, Noah then packed his suitcase and backpack with the stuff that he needed for Beauxbatons. The young blonde then dragged his suitcase and carried his backpack downstairs. Leaving his bags at the bottom of the stairs, Noah proceeded into the kitchen so that he could have breakfast before he left. The blonde was just finishing his breakfast when he heard a horn outside. Looking out of the bay window, he saw the Beauxbatons carriage was waiting for him. The twelve year old then put his Adidas sneakers on, put his backpack on his back and wheeled his suitcase outside.

He then got into the carriage, placing his suitcase by his feet and, after sitting down, placed his backpack on the seat next to him. To make the time go faster, Noah decided to listen to his ipod nano. 15 minutes had passed and the carriage was at Beauxbatons. The young blonde took his earphones out, grabbed his bags and then got out of the carriage and made his way towards the entrance.

As the young boy got into the entrance hall, He became overwhelmed by the sheer hugeness of the academy. Noah wanted to explore every part of the castle after he got sorted into a house of course. Putting his stuff down, He then stood by a pillar and waited to be sorted. A few minutes later, somebody came out of the great hall and asked all of the new first years to get in a line. Noah made sure that he was close to the middle of the queue. The first years then got sorted one by one and then when it got to his turn, Noah wondered, "what house am i going to be in?"

[phaethonyar]

p h a e t h o n ;

[/font][/size]
the only thing i want is you and me
[/center]

name; Phaethon Yar Castelo Kristell
nick names; Phaeth, Yar
pronunciation; Faith-ee-on , Yah-are, Cus-tell-oh, Chris-tell

age; 17 forever
gender; Young lady
height/weight; 5'5", and 116LBS
appearance; Phaethon has long, wavy/curly blonde hair. It's more of a golden color, but still. Occasionally you'll see it being straight, but not all the time. She has light blue eyes. Her nails are quite long, and there always done professionally done. She has long legs, and her body is quite mature. She seems a little shorter then she is, but she's still 5'5".

blood; Vampire, seer, veela.
ancestory; Irish, british, german, russian.

personality;
history;

sample roleplay; WIP!

[faefaefae]

First Name: Fae

Last Name: Asrai

Age: 17

Appearance:

History: Born in a big oak tree, Fae grew up in Ireland along with her older sister by a year, Mae. Her mother and father the respectable helpers in the function of the Oak each helping Fae and Mae adapt to the life style as a forest fairy. Living off of plants and learning to master her powers of the earth. Fae always dreamed of breaking out and going on adventures way past her tiny life in Ireland. While Mae was the more responisible and level-headed of the two, never one to break rules or ever put a toe out of line. Fae wanted to see the world, but since she was a tiny fairy there really wasn’t a lot she could do. This of course was nonsense to Mae and she and her sister clashed a lot, her sister always being the favorite of the two. So for a while she tried doing as her parents told her, she grew up without so much as exploration in other parts of her tiny little home until she found herseld surrounded by them.

After her 14th birthday, Fae’s seven younger sisters and 1 brother were born, giving her parents more and more to do, and giving Fae and Mae, more Mae, the chance to become the teachers instead of the students. They taught thier sibilings how to live like they all did, peaceful. But sometimes this got out of control and Fae ended up telling them wild and crazy stories, of how Fae would someday break free and go on all kinds of adventures and see the world. And how every night she would wish on the stars the she could become a full human-sized fairy and do all the things she wanted. This of course didn’t help matters much. One day while Fae was in one of the worse fights with her sister, Mae caught something down by the base of the Oak, and Fae not one to think before acting, shot down to inspect, her sister shouting at her heels. As the grew nearer, what ever was making the noise, was making it louder as they approached the edge, Mae sensing danger flew in front of Fae, trying to turn her around.

As she steadily grew angrier, something wrapped around her ankle and began pulling her down. And as quick as it could, pulled her down and almost like she had never existed she vanished. No trace of Mae was found and as a result of the tragic loss her entire world endured, the forbade anyone from going down to the bottom of the Oak again. As the years passed, Fae grew more and more rebelious, her want to break out of her simple life and constent need to get into trouble, purely by accident from her huge amount of curiousity, becoming more and more unbearable for anyone to live with. And one evening during a hot summer day she was told that she was being sent to France to live her Aunt Miette, when the school term started and she would be attending school there until the next summer. But this to Fae, was an adventure, not a punishment, this meant that she would get the chance to leave Ireland and the Oak and put her simple, boring life behind and explore whole new and different places. Even if it was for school.

Personality: Very outgoing and bubbly, Fae is the adventurous type. She's always interested in what goes on outside of where she is, her mind runs a thousand miles a minute and she's always thinking up new ideas. Very friendly, she likes to make a many friends as she can. Sometimes this is bit hard for her, just because sometimes she's seen as immature and silly. She does have her stubborn streak, refusing to let anything pass if she knows it’s wrong, she's right, or if something isn't working the way it's supposed too. Work and Fae, aren't a very good mix. Sure, she can get it done, after a VERY long while. She'd rather be out exploring, outside playing. Not cooped up working all the time. All that said she's a very bright person, who never gives up, on anything or anyone. She's protective and gets defensive, not very sensitive and it take a lot to hurt her feelings. Smart but a procrastinator and sweet but still a little fresh at times, outgoing but sometimes shy. Her one fear thought, is being the center of attention, she loves to sing. Especially folk songs from her home, but she will never get over the fear of singing in front of anyone, except her sisters and closest friends and family. Brought up to be a vegan, Fae was taught that animals are not meant to be eaten and killed, but respected and to be learned from. As all of the others that followed the rule of Queen Kiyla, she had the ability to calm and animal, that was willing of course. Even her best friend, pips, who was a rabbit loved to be around anything fairy.

Sample RP: Fae sat in her room, staring at the starry sky and fanning herself with the tiny book she was holding. Her fingers clamped to the binding, she curled her knees closer to her chest and relaxed her wings. It was the end of summer, but still her little room inside the Oak was boiling, so as always, she had opened up every window, the wind whipping against the curve of the windowsills. It was around the time she was starting to get sleepy that she heard a tiny noise, down by the base of the tree. She poked her brown head out, her soft waves tumbling in front of her bright green eyes. She scooted up a little further, her wings fluttering in excitement as she spotted something glittering way down. Sticking her head back inside to make sure no one was there, she put her book on the cushion next to her and flew outside her window. Immediately she sighed in relief as the cool air splashed over her face. Taking a quick second to peek inside to see if any lights were on, and there weren't, she dove full speed deep to the bottom of the tree.

She stopped just a little ways, about 15 feet, above the glittering object. Hesitating a little, she crept further toward it, the wind blowing her hair wildly around. As she got closer, she started to reach her hand out. Suddenly something snapped at her and sharply she snapped her hand back. Whatever the thing was, it was being closely guarded as there were snapping weeds all around it. Fae quickly scanned for anyway to get to it, and avoid any danger. And faster than it took her to think it up, she dove again and into the big bunch of thorns, vines and leaves. Dodging every vine that swung her way, she narrowly and sharply flew through, her hand half-way outstretched. She grew steadily closer, the wind whistling in her ears as she dove faster. And with a sharp turn up, she grabbed the glittering thing and shot back through to the top of the Oak. With a struggle, she emerged back to safety and clutched the thing to her chest, taking a little breathing time. After she composed herself again, she smiled and lifted the object to her eyes. It seemed to be some kinds of gem. It was big, compared to her anyway and was a bright blue. She turned it around and around, examining each side closely. But she couldn't find anything as interesting as the pretty coloring. Then she formed an idea, maybe it had a special power, she held it up to the bright moon and...Nothing.

She shook it, threw it, bite it, everything, or dang near close to it. And after classifying that it was just another shiny, sparkly, useless thing she tossed it over her shoulder and let it fall back down in the waiting bushes. Flying back up to her slowly, she didn't notice a figure hiding in the shadows, watching her, whatever it was it was angry, and if any other person looked close enough you could make out tiny little green eyes. And when it emerged Fae screamed so loud, half the lights in the Oak switched on and still asleep people began poking their heads out just she was all the noise was. Her mother, who had been hiding the entire time, came out of the shadows and was now a deep red. When the other fairies saw this, they just shook their heads, waved a little and with a click shut their windows and turned the light off again, as if this was routine. Which it pretty much was. Her mother, so mad, she almost resembled a cranberry with a body and wings. A steaming, fumning cranberry at that. "What, pretell, do you think you’re doing little missy?" her mother hissed, her thick Irish accent, adding a sting to each word. "I-I-I was just..." Fae began, her accent softer but just as thick as her mothers, one of the many traits they shared, as she thought she found that she couldn't find anything to explain. Especially when she was caught red-handed flying through the forbidden part of the Oak, altough this really wasn't a surprise to anyone, expescially her mother.

Her mother put her hands on her hips, one of her favorite and most used stances when speaking to or of Fae. "Exactly" her mother said, confirming her suspicions. "Now get inside, and quick. We've got a long day tomorrow. You’re leaving first thing in the morning, which gives you about 4 hours to sleep and be ready to go." Her mother said, flitting to her and pushing her toward the open window. "Come on, can't waste anymore time," and with that her mother shoved Fae inside, flying in behind her and shutting the window, tight. "Out of all my children, you should know better than to fly down there, no one is allowed and you know the reasons" her mother began, bustling around her room, picking up books and clothes. "I just wish sometimes..." her mother drifted off, looking at her oldest daughter, "That I wasn't so different? Unlike...Mae?" Fae hated when her mother compared her to her older sister. She was gone and Fae wasn't her. But her mother didn't seem to understand that, she kept trying to change her. They looked alike, but she would never be her. Her mother sighed and slowly began to say something "I just wish that you weren't you sometimes" her mother finished, with one last weary glance she left the room, shutting the door, without so much as a goodnight or anything else to say. Fae stood there in the middle of her room, thinking a little on what her mother had said, she knew her mother didn't mean it, but still, maybe it was better that she was leaving for a while. After a few more minutes, Fae drifted over to her bed and laid down pushing all the things dealing with her mother and the conversation from her mind. Before drifiting off to a much wanted bit of sleep, she smiled and relived her last risky adventure she'd have here at the Oak, with her mother, father, and entire life and how by the next night, it would be nothing but a memory.
Must be Cossu!

[haven]

Name

[/font]
Asteria-Nevaeh Fate Haven
Age[/font]
Seventeen
Blood[/font]
lamia vampire
Appearance[/font]

Personality[/font]
Asteria-Nevaeh is a very sweet and gentle person, though she does have a strong mind as well as a great sense of right and wrong she does tend to get herself into dangerous situations causing her brother to come and find her. She can be very independent unless she's with her brother and normally speaks her mind. She's a very respecting person and tries her best to keep those around her happy and seems to never be able to hate anyone, even those who've hurt her or her family. She's very protective of her brother, Zypher, and will do just about anything to stay by his side. At times the twins have been told they over obsess over each other, when their cause for staying around each other is more of a comfort and safety issue. Asteria-Nevaeh tends to keep away from others when not around her brother by reading alone in any quiet place she can possibly find, but she is finally beginning to break out of her shell since she was accepted to beauxbatons academy. At times she can have a bit of a temper, but is easily calmed by kind words or even a gently touch by the one who caused her to be so angry.

Overall Asteria-Nevaeh is a very accepting person as well as understanding even if she hasn't been in certain situations she still recognises other's pain or happiness through her own experiences. From time to time people see her as slightly uptight and shy, which she normally is but once she is comfortable around people she talks to them as she would her family and anyone she's known for a long time. Asteria-Nevaeh never tries to fit in with a certain crowd of people since she knows who she is and she shouldn't have to change that for others. When separated from her brother she does tend to become very irritated and upset, but she knows she could always talk through her mind to his.
Family[/font]
Temperance Haven - Mother - (34) 157 - Lamia Vampire
Cole Haven - Father - (36) 264 - Lamia Vampire
Zypher Haven - Brother - (17) 28 - Lamia Vampire
Roslyn Lopez - Grandmother - (40) 289 - Lamia Vampire
History[/font]
Along with her twin brother, Zypher, Asteria-Nevaeh was born on April 27th into a loving lamia couple named Temperance and Cole Haven.Being born into a lamia family did have a few perks like being able to have someone you know around to teach you how to hunt and feed and all that. Though she never took any of her parent's teachings lightly it seemed her brother would always out smart or out hunt her. She didn't mind it much, though she did wish she could receive as much attention as he was. The twins ages slowly, but learned quickly as time passed and once they finally reached the age of seventeen their ageing was stopped all together. It was also around that age where the two twins realized something strange was happening to them. Whenever one of the two were to get hurt in any way the other would receive the same mark just as the other has received theirs. So putting it in smaller terms; when one twin was hurt so was the other, There was also the sort of telepathy toward each other, when one wished to know where the other was they would simply open their mind and close their eyes and would see from the other twin's point of view.

The twins new powers and abilities toward each other were beginning to become annoying, but also helpful at times so they would always be able to come to each other's rescue if needed. After their supposed to be 20th birth-day the twins began to drift apart even so they remained together. Zypher was becoming overly protective of her and she was depending a bit too much on him. The stress of each other's presence was unbearable, but they could never seem to stay apart from each other. The distance they would create between them would make them become anxious and sometimes depressed. Their parents knew something wrong was going on so they decided it would be best to separate the two for a while. Their mother took Asteria-Nevaeh away to Spain to live with her grandmother Roslyn for a while and her father and Zypher lived in German for the time being. Life in Spain was pretty exciting, but saddening since it seemed everything reminded her of Zypher one way or another. Her mother was growing concerned, but her grandmother was hopeful of Asteria-Nevaeh's ability to be able to keep away from her brother.

Secretly while she slept Asteria-Nevaeh and Zypher would slip into each other's dreams every now and again to talk to each other and really just to check up on one another. It made the time together bearable, until Roslyn caught up with their secret meetings and placed some sort of dream lock spell on Asteria-Nevaeh's mind making it impossible for the twins to communicate until she left Spain with her mother. Asteria-Nevaeh would spend most of her time reading outside or in her room, trying to keep away from the reality of the world as well as the people in it. Finally after five-six years they were reunited in Paris and began to live their lives as they normally had done for the past 27 years. After a year in Paris the twins were accepted to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
Sample rp[/font]
Walking down the unfamiliar halls rooms wasn't Asteria-Nevaeh's cup of tea, it was more like a nightmare. Attempting to find a room here was somewhat harder then it really looked. She was about to give up until she noticed an empty room at the end of the hall way. Fast walking toward it the closer she got the more she realized why it was empty. The room was filled with cob weds and covered in dust from head to toe. Clearly it's old owners didn't take too kindly to this room since they left it so, messy. Asteria-Nevaeh knew she could easily have it cleaned up and decent looking in no time, all she needed was a bit of magic and elbow grease and it would be no problem. Asteria-Nevaeh didn't hate cleaning, but it wasn't something she enjoyed since it gave her time to think about everything.

And that was definitely something she hated to do, think, because when she thought she realized things, and when she realized things the world became a more darker and evil place to her. Taking out her ebony wand she tapped the bed causing all the dust to fly into the air and out the window. well that was easy, thought Asteria-Nevaeh as she placed her two suit cases onto the bed and smiled. She just might need a bit more help with this all, but if she really put her mind to it she could finish it all alone within a half hour to an hour. Which would give her just enough time to see if she could find her old classmates and hopefully catch up with them at last. Wish a small sigh she turned around and took a large look at the cob web infested room.

At least she could tell the walls were somewhat painted a deep crimson red, which would help her plan out the rest of the room's look. Concentrating as hard as possible she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as wind whirled around her as though a storm was about to begin. Dropping her wand on the floor she made a motion as though she was pushing something with all her might. The dirt and dust lifted form ever surface and was levitating in the air. Moving her hand a few degrees she motioned for it to move to the left and out the window it all went. Asteria-Nevaeh wiped sweat from her forehead and pushed up her sleeves a bit. now it's your turn, she thought as she looked at the cob webs on the ceiling, which seemed to be mocking in in a way, swaying in the breeze the open window let inside.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/center]
Must be Rouerie!

[gwynn]

pawning off my treasure, the envy of an heiress
NOW MY DOLLARS ARE CRUMPLED IN MY POCKET *

Full Name: Gwynneth Llewella Bronwen
Nicknames: Gwyn, although she would rather not be called by this name
Age: Sixteen
History:
Personality:
Sample:

[blissbelljessica]

D O N E ;

WHY DONT YOU KISS HER

Bliss Belle Jessica

PRONUNCIATION

Bell-liss , B-ell , Chess-ick-uh

SHES BEEN HERE FOR

Sixteen . Two Months

BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR

Mermaid x Veela x Seer

FAMILY

Kennath Benny Jessica - Father
Deminn Alyson Jessica - Mother
Lucien Alec Jessica - Brother
Keith Adam Jessica - Brother
STEPS
Charlotte Anderson - Step-Mother
Alessa Anderson - Step-Sister
Diadric Anserson - Step-Brother
Addison Anderson - Step-Brother

WHATS GOING ON?

Lets start at two years old. Bliss, having a semi-normal life, and being so young, she didn't understand much. Her oldest brother, Lucien, had been a little messed up. Having many issues with himself, he was ten. He began to molest Bliss. Lucien didn't understand what he was doing was wrong, and Bliss, in being two, didn't know either. Although she always saw it as weird, and feeling awkward, she kept it to herself. Four years old, Lucien began to get rough. Bliss was an adventurous young girl by then, and yet she was always being hurt. Although it seems weird, she used to cry a lot from what Lucien did to her. But another tremendous thing happened when she was four. Her visions, in being born with seer, began to filter through. Of course, it was not bad things. Actually, on her six birthday, she asked her mom if she was getting her a pony, and if it's name would so happen to be Snickers. Needless to say Mrs. Jessica was quite surprised. And, like predicted, she got a small flea bitten gray pony named Snickers. She was so happy, but it soon perished when he mom came home drunk about two weeks later. She was so bad, that in Bliss's attempt to held, she began to beat Bliss. Her mother didn't know what she was doing, so she kept on. Bliss, second time in her life being wrongfully treated, knew it was not her mothers fault.

However, after a while her mother's drinking got worse. Coming home and taking it out on Bliss and Keith, but leaving Lucien on his own. Sometimes, Bliss could avoid it by seeing it and hiding in her closet or under her bed. It seemed to pathetic, that her mother would be so stupid and niave, but even then, Bliss found forgiveness. Bliss knew why. Her mother loved her, but had some issues of her own. She understood that. When Bliss turned Nine, her father, Kennath, decided to devorce Deminn. Deminn, in her vast fury, threatened the lives of all three of her children. Kennath had been caught. Should he stay, just for the sake of his children? Or run, and leave the life behind him. One night, he was having trouble sleeping. Daminn was at the bar, so he was alone. Bliss came into his room, with a sincere smile, it was quite odd. "I understand," she had told him, "why you would want to leave.. Keith does, too." That night, after kissing her head and sending Bliss to bed, he packed up and left. Leaving a locket with his picture inside under Bliss's pillow. Her mother did not come home that night. In the morning, she took her locket with a smile and put it on.

For the next month or so, Bliss found herself taking care of Keith and Lucien. Her mother did not care for them anymore, although she had stopped drinking, and got help. You know, before her mother had gone all physcho, Bliss and her mother had gotten along. Though she was young then, they where bounded together. But come her Thirteenth birthday, her aged pony Snickers passed away, and unfortunetly, so did Lucien. Yes, he had hurt her beyond repair, taken something from her that he couldn't return, but he had fixed himself into a handsome, controlable young man. There mother planned the funeral, but the following week, at the actual funeral, she went missing. Bliss didn't understand fully what happened, but when the funeral ended, she went to her father, who had attended, and asked if Keith and herself could come and live with him and his new family. Actually, she was surprised when he said yes. She figured he would have said no, moved on. So when she packed up her things, grabbed Keith's hand and stared desperatly into the nothingness that was there home. Turning around, the two walked off and headed to Wyoming, where Kennath and his new found wife, Charlotte Anderson lived.

When they arived at the mansion-like house, they where greeted with nothing but sweetness, and kindness from both Charlotte, and her two boys. Addison, the oldest, held a secret that Bliss had forseen. He was A little over A hundred, but looked Eighteen. He was a vampire. She knew it. He was... fixated on her, for the next year she lived there. Fourteen, and she gave up everything to a boy named Seth Burnstrud. Seth had been in her Chemistry Class, being her Chem. Lab partner. To her, he was everything a girl could want. Months into there 'partner-ship', he pulled her aside and tried to let her down easilly. Of course, it was hard, but because of her personality, and positive outlook, Bliss promised to stay true to herself, and those around her. When fifteen came around, her relationship with Charlotte and Kennath grew when Keith was moving out. She huged him, and then stood by her step mother and father. After that, in her sadness, but in her determination, Bliss wrote a letter to her school, asking if she and some other students could do a presentation for the school about Abusive-Relationships, Abusive-Family Members, and how to deal with Heart-ache and those types of situations.

Her school hastilly accepter, and her and the others went on with there presentation. She was quite pleased. After, in her achievments and amazing job with the other students, the school decided to let her do counciling. They trusted her enough, and knew she could help. It lasted a while, until she turned Sixteen. Kennath and Charlotte had talked about it, and decided to send her off to Beauxbatons. Since she had magic blood. Deep in her ancestory. Dispointed that she had to leave what she had worked so hard to make, she said yes and packed her bags. Now, she is here.
NOBODY EVA KNEW ME UNTIL YOU
Bliss’s mother always told her, ‘Whoever wins you over, will be blessed.’ And, to say the least this is a true statement. Bliss is very outgoing, helpful, and kind. Outgoing, hyper, enthusiastic are all words you’d use for her. It isn’t very often you will see her without a smile on her face. She loves to smile, and actually, she has no problem in saying such. She loves to talk to people, and although she isn’t ‘annoying’ in that sense, sometimes she thinks she’s droning, even when she’s not. She likes to be around people, and also likes to be around people she knows. She sometimes feels a little awkward when she’s in a group of people she doesn’t know. Of course, she does better talking with more people then with one other person. Actually, some people have stage fright, that is the complete-opposite of Bliss. She loves the spot-light, and she loves acting. She doesn’t mind getting up on stage and singing her heart out, because to her it’s fun.

She’s a very opinionated person. And if she doesn’t like the way something is running, Bliss will be sure to let you know. Quite usually she finds herself speaking for more then one person, speaking up for those to scared to prove there own point. And Bliss doesn’t mind, she likes helping people, even if she doesn’t believe in what she’s speaking about. She’s also a ‘protector’ of sorts. She doesn’t like it when she see’s someone getting bullied, which brings out the curious and rude and over-reacting side of her, and she’ll say something about it. She likes to ensure people’s safety. Now, physical bullying, is something she most definitely stays out of, in fear she’d get a punch thrown at her, so usually she tells someone. Not many catch her as a tattle tail, unless you’re the one getting in trouble.

People have looked up to Bliss. She’s a roll-model. Trying to show people the way. Of course, you might say she is a ‘Cindy Lou’ or ‘Lou Sue’, but no. Bliss is far from perfect. She has her own little quirks. For one, she’s overly curious. She likes to be a little nosy, and does her own detective work on people when she feels the need too. She can also be a little overly-worried, not so worried it goes into paranoia, but sometimes it seems so. And again, she speaks her mind. Though she doesn’t like to hurt people, she’s a little out-spoken on some topics. Opinionated mostly about things such as abuse, (child abuse), since she herself had put up with things in her life that where never fair. She gets scared easily. Not really from things that have happened in her past, mostely just because she will be so fixated on something, or so out of it that she wont see anything bad coming, and then BAM, you’re behind her.

She’s very supportive, and condident. If you need her, she will stand by you and support you when you need her. She’s very kind-hearted that way. She wont pick sides, and after looking over everything in a more rational way, she’ll then deicide, on logic, who is right. Although she doesn’t believe the other is truly wrong, just not as clear on the statement or problem given. She never really rules someone out. Being confident, like stated, she is always happy about herself. She doesn’t care about what other people thing of her, because she knows inside she is beautiful in her own way.
LETS GIVE YOU A TASTE SO YOU CAN SEE
“Well I don’t know” Bliss answered her dorm-partner, Anna. Her shoulders rolled back in a shrug, and her eyes where plastered to her dorm-mate. She wasn’t sure about a ‘party’ in the dorm, since Bliss had finals and exams coming up. But Anna was being persistent, trying to get Bliss to agree. Bliss was getting frustrated, however she never really did get annoyed or wanting someone to shut up. “No, it’s my final answer. Ask Alex” She told Anna sternly, turning and opening her Biology book. She ran her hand through her wavy brown hair, and leaned against the chair’s back, lazily. She wanted to go study in the library, but chances are, Seth and Amanda where there. Anna, by now, had stormed off. Leaving Bliss alone in her room. The peace, was starting to calm her nerves. She flipped through the pages, skimming over the words. She didn’t want to do her chemistry notes, but she’d promised Seth she’d have them done by tomorrow afternoon. Which she was unhappy about, mainly because she’d done them the last time… but he was going on a date with his newly found girlfriend, Amanda, so she had to give him a chance to be happy. Actually, considering he’d broken up with her, Bliss was happy they still remained friends. Even if it was a little awkward, it was better then ending badly. Which made her a little easier. Plus, Seth still cared. He’d promised, and made sure Bliss still knew he had some feelings for her. She understood. It was never meant to last. Finding page Six hundred-eighty-two, she opened her book flat and grabbed her note-book and pen. Getting this done, means seeing Seth… She thought. Ya, there was awkwardness, but there was still the same tension as before. That was for sure.

Bliss began to write, in a neat, old type cursive. She was sitting up straight, so she could read easier, and make her writing more presentable. She had that little odd-ball ness, not one of a perfectionist, but one where everything, or mostly everything needed to be right. But not perfect. Actually, she was having trouble concentrating. Tapping her fingers against the desk, she reached over and grabbed Addison’s zune. She knew he wouldn’t mind her using it, I mean they where pretty close. She put it on and searched, finally finding her song. She decided to listen to Sunny Came Home. There really wasn’t a reason. It wasn’t the happiest song, nor the sadist. But you had to pay attention and be a little smarter then most to catch what the song was about. It wasn’t long before she found herself writing like a rocket, and humming along to the words. It was a truly good song. And I guess you could say it helped her concentrate. True, wasn’t her favorite song, but maybe she just liked it for the alto voice. She wasn’t a suprano person. Her own voice was a Suprano-alto mix. She didn’t like her own voice, but it was perfect in it’s own way. Her perky personality came in handy. When she was feeling down, she’d just think of better things, things that made her smile. Like her horses back home. Or her favorite memories with her brother, Keith. Or maybe even with Kennath and Addison and Charlotte. Although it always worked, she knew even her, sometimes being sad meant being normal. She’d spent all her life looking at the more positive side of things, that looking at the worse would just break her in hafe.

“Bliss” Someone’s voice broke into her thoughts, she turned her head a quarter of an inch, to listen. She wasn’t going to reply, no. It was actually a surprise that she heard the voice, but it was as clear and plain as the nose on her face! She took one earphone out, and kept her head in place. “It’s Seth” He finally said. His name made her heart race – her body quiver. She took the other earphone out and grabbed the notes, since they where finished. She blinked slowly, not wanting to move towards the door. Her knee’s buckled, and she felt the floor seem to move. She stumbled forward, almost falling on her face. She was thinking thinking about whether or not to go forward. “Right here, Seth” She finally said, with a smile to herself. She straightened out, fixed her corset and her turtle-neck, and moved towards the door, still feeling ill on the inside. He seemed the clear his throat, as she reached the door and pulled it open. When she uncovered his perfect, silk blonde hair, and pale skin, she blinked again. What was it about Seth that made her feel so weak? Bliss kept her cool, though. Standing straight, a large smile on her face, charmed eyes watching the tall blonde. The girl leaned against the door, in all honesty, she looked quite sexy. Seth smiled down at her.

“I – uh… was wondering if you’d have those notes done early” She didn’t know if it was a cover, or if he was serious. The more nervous theme to his voice could fool anyone. Either he felt as weird as she did, or he was nervous to be talking to her. There could be a million reasons as to why. Her bright eyes melted into his pale blue ones, they seemed to be fixating on each other. Until she blinked and looked at the paper. She handed it towards him, a small grin on her face. “Just finished them up, actually. If you’d like… we could go over some of tomorrow’s lab” She offered him. Seth didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. With a small nod of his head, Bliss stepped aside and crossed her arms, closing the door with her foot and walking towards him. Oh, how complete she felt right now… She closed her book and tossed it on the bed, inviting him to sit on the bed. He smiled, nodded again and pulled his book out of his nap-sack. Did he plan this? In surprise, she took her note-book and pen once more, and laid flat on her stomach, glancing up once at Seth, and then back to her book. The silence was a good silence, and made her shiver. Until Anna stormed inside, flailing her arms. She was yelling something about Amanda, at Seth, and Bliss.

“What in the – Anna what are you talking about” Bliss finally asked. Crossing her arms as she stood up, glaring at Anna. Seth looked astonished, staring blankly. He seemed about as surprised as anyone in the room, except Anna. “Amanda is soo mad at you right now, Seth! You said you had to go and then came up here?! Wow.” Anna had crossed her arms as well, and now her eyes where pinned to Bliss. She felt small, Seth had left Amanda in the Library, to come see… her? As flattering as it was, she suddenly felt like what Amanda was, a relationship wrecker. Oh yes. Amanda, previously being Bliss’s friend, aside from Natalie, had purposly come into Seth’s life. Sweeping him off his feet with large breasts, and large, red lips and blue eyes that could hypnotize any man. But, she felt terrible. And would forever if Amanda and Seth never went out again. Bliss stepped back, looking at Seth. “Well, I didn’t know…” She argued in a more… sweet tone. Seth, in defense to both himself and Bliss, stepped towards Anna. Saying he’d go talk to Amanda. He glanced back at Bliss, with apologetic eyes, and nodded to anna. Yes, Bliss felt terrible. Un-crossing her arms, she turned and slammed her book shut. “Well?” Anna finally said. But Bliss didn’t answer, she just smiled, and brushed past.


Must be Rouerie

[emory]

FIRST NAME,

[/font]
Emory Hayden

LAST NAME,[/font]
Samuels

AGE,[/font]
Sixteen

APPEARANCE,[/font]



FAMILY,[/font]


Lance Clement Samuels ; father
Amorelle Lily Samuels ; mother


Isaac Elijah Samuels ; brother

HISTORY,[/font]
The equation was a simple one. Man meets woman and together they marry. The details of their romance won’t be divulged, it’s exceptionally ordinary and hardly worth for ‘Lace and Amorelle’ to be placed among the likes of ‘Tristan and Isolde’. Normality was expected from a muggle family, with easy going careers and adoration. Of course Lace was nothing like Amorelle. Whilst she was open and caring he was always more refined and distant, brooding she’d call him. Still, that’s hardly a complication. Even the appearance of their firstborn, Isaac did nothing to mess things up. A single year passed and then Emory Hayden Samuels was born into the world. The most single disappointment was that Amorelle longed for a daughter, but as an infant the child was so beautiful that at times she squinted her eyes to see what a daughter would look like. Amorelle always did have a child like innocence.

In life, most children grow up without complications into pleasant individuals. It’s really only the ones who have some tragedy that end up messed up. Emory lingered somewhere between the two. Something must have happened for him to be sent to a counsellor, three times. Nearly four. He was seven years old and prettier than a particularly nasty little girl, who out of spite called him ‘all round and fat like a pot bellied pig’. Emory didn’t really care, he told the doctors that, but they thought ht was starting some eating disorder. He wasn’t. It was just a case of proving to himself not eating would be easy. Being curious was an explanation that didn’t exactly settle, but they had t deal with it, even if it was baffling. At eight years old his hamster died. Emory loved animals growing up and the house was never without a pet. And when ‘Smokey’ died Emory thought he could bring his beloved pet back to life by performing an autopsy like he’d seen on television. His dad didn’t appreciate Emory using his pen knife to try that. And it gained him three months of therapy. It was only done out of love though. Nothing was sadder then the death of Smokey.

Things were okay after that. Emory just barely saved himself from being unsociable, but he never seemed to care for others around him but all his teachers said he was remarkably bright for someone of his age. Of course he was always the shadow to his brother. Isaac was charming, Emory didn’t much fancy attention, and they didn’t really match. When he was ten years old his differences were made clear. People flocking around him weren’t something Emory ever loved, and one day he decided no one could touch him and anyone who did got a very visible shock. They were going to send him to a doctor again, but on the morning they were meant to go someone odd came to their door. She wore orange dungarees and a purple bowler hat. The woman said she helped muggles ‘non-magic folk’ understand a new magical world. It was hard for even Lance to disagree with magic when the coffee tables being turned into a pig. Still, they were assured everything was peachy and that one day Emory’s abilities would be nurtured. Details were explained throughout the oncoming weeks, often met with disbelief that mild down to an eventual acceptance.

He still went to Muggle School though, moving up into high school a year after his brother and seemingly shedding the uniqueness of his past behaviour. Becoming more sociable and less isolated, Emory kind of blended in. No one laughed at him for jokes and he wasn’t as charming as his brother, but he was oddly beautiful for a boy and people thought he had this odd, mysterious sort of thing going on. Really he shouldn’t have fit in with the crowd he was seen with, but at night he was quite shadowy and would sneak out and just walk around till the early hours. He and Isaac bonded; they were both on the swim team, both as good as each other. But Emory quit when he was fifteen because he decided he didn’t like speaking anymore.

The counsellor theorised he was a selective mute, though Emory knew that wasn’t the case. He could still talk, just didn’t want too. Nothing about others or his environment imposed him to be silent; it was just too much effort to talk to people. He decided that he’d only ever say things worth saying, but even then would find a sigh or facial expression got his point across. Just when his family thought they’d understood him, he changed like that. Everyone was sympathetic, and as long as people didn’t expect him to talk Emory was fine with that. Eventually he started talking again, six months later. Just one day he said ‘hi’ to everyone and ignored the surprise that followed. Emory never explained why he started talking again, most likely he got bored. Six months is a long time, believe it or not.

When he turned sixteen he began to anticipate that he’d leave his muggle life behind. He didn’t leave it to his parents to tell everyone, they just pulled him out of school. Emory told everyone that he’d decided to become a monk. He left Isaac to pick up the pieces of that lie, who just said he was going to boarding school because it specialised in English, Emory’s strong point. For a muggle wizard he’d never been particularly excited about the prospect of Beauxbatons, not like his mother and brother. They were awed. Emory? A buildings just a building, no matter what goes on inside. His family hadn’t been so non turbulent since he was an infant, uncomplaining and uncomplicated. But things change, prospects and pathways, and going to Beauxbatons is just one of those moments. Honestly? There’s a lot of worry on how Emory will cope, yet he’s always so effortlessly been okay with just himself that they shouldn’t really worry.

PERSONALITY,[/font]
There’s a lot that people just aren’t meant to understand about Emory. But that’s fine, for him anyway. For example, what others would call negative he would twist to be a positive. People always say you should give yourself high expectations but Emory always gives himself low ones. It’s actually quite logical, if you look at it. If you expect something and don’t get it, you’re bound for disappointment. If you don’t expect something then get it, well that just makes things really good, doesn’t it? Emory is very rational like that. Like he thinks life is quite boring, and that no one apart from people like Nelson Mandela and Bob Geldof truly make any difference in the world. People are ordinary, but there’s nothing wrong with that. He just feels people shouldn’t expect to do great things when the chances are they won’t. He applies this to himself as well. If his life was a book, Emory think it would be always closed, rather than a page turner. No one really understands his way of thinking, it’s always misunderstood to being pessimistic and negative, but he’s really not. It’s all logic, he doesn’t really care.

He thinks people can be irrelevant. Or maybe it’s just the High School groups he grew up around. Seeing pointless arguments and drama from things that really could be solved easily, Emory doesn’t really form close attachments to anyone. Not that he can’t, he can. But he finds people complicated, that they can cause him more problems than anything else. A strange person to know, he’ll never be very talkative, but everything he says has a meaning, and whilst sometimes he’ll be as open and relaxed like someone you’ve known for months in an instant he’ll become distant as though you’ve never known him at all. Complicated, that’s what he is. Sometimes he decides not to speak; he’s like a light switch. On. Off. On. Off. He was once called a misanthropist, a dislike for human species, but now that’s only mild. He wouldn’t die without company, but he doesn’t mind it. Surprisingly he likes to surround himself with talkative types. That means they can do the talking for him.

Emory doesn’t understand love, not that a relationship at sixteen could ever be love. Bizarrely he’s just never felt attracted to anyone, no one’s made him pants stir either. In high school there was a period where people questioned his sexuality. He’s attractive enough to be favourable with anyone on looks alone, but he never got close to a girl or a boy. That makes things complicated doesn’t it? Everyone in the world should fall into pigeon holes, but then there’s Emory who doesn’t have a preference, or even like for anyone he’s ever met, not in the physical way at least. He’s not destined to be alone though, he’s sure one day someone will come along and secretly he probably thinks it’ll be a she. Oddly enough he doesn’t really favour children, they’re spoilt and loud. But he’d like the option to have a family.

Its funny how sometimes people completely change in a certain circumstance right? Everyone has something that makes them putty in other hands and for Emory its animals. They said cutting open a hamster was disturbing, but Emory only wanted to perform open heart surgery and save Smokey’s life. He wouldn’t do that now, there’s an actually module of science called dissection for that, but he still loves animals. Around animals he softens to appear almost child like, and warms to the owners due to the fact they have a particularity handsome dog or sweet little owl. Emory is quite enthusiastic about animals. When he was thirteen he decided to join PETA and signed all the online petitions he could find. Still, one day he’d like to have a dog, like policeman do, that he can love but it will stare at people he doesn’t like until they go away.

Someone once told him that the truth hurts, but then that person didn’t appreciate his remarking that she was turning grey. But Emory took those words to thought, and likens the truth to a bomb. Truth goes boom and people might get hurt. This doesn’t mean his honest or even a liar, he’s rather uncaring for such things as honesty, you’re either honest or you’re not, he wouldn’t mind. No, Emory is just fascinated by things like the truth, all those subjects that people don’t really understand he likes to reflect on. Like life and death. Sometimes he thinks about how someone like him came from something microscopic. And then he learnt that as babies grow in the womb they move around the stomach and he found that really strange but amazing. Emory can be very deep about things, but he likes to be. He does quote Shakespeare, which is quite deep, he’s been doing since he was fourteen. He also finds symbolism in bad weather. People don’t often go out in the rain, but he does. Sometimes it’s healthy to be surrounded by being alone, you know?

SAMPLE,[/font]
There was something weird about life, an unpredictability that couldn’t be controlled. He wasn’t sure if he liked that, not knowing what was around the corner. Maybe that’s why no one knew his birthday. He had a habit of telling everyone he met a different date, just so when people brought up his birthday they’d be confusion and so nothing would ever happen. But it always did, his family knew, naturally, and Hayden’s brother had always set the record straight year after year. It wasn’t that getting older daunted Emory, he was sixteen, hardly setting foot over some hill that people always linked to forty. It was the element of surprise that he met with a mild contempt. He wasn’t good at faking smiles if someone made his disgusted, and he didn’t particularly want to appear disgusted by a gift someone may have spent the best part of a weekend trying to find. The again there was a massive difference between a birthday and a bus stop. The main thing being the day wasn’t apparently devoted to his aging and birthdays lasted a day without wait. A bus journey would take ten, maybe twenty minutes and you had to wait for it.

Emory knew he was being watched, that the man would cast flickering looks, wondering if it was him. There was nothing about such stares that warranted police intervention, it was just curiosity and recognition. He knew the man, only briefly. Emory had never really opened up to his therapists, but then he had been, what, nine or ten? Ah seven. That was the first time. Any normal parent would have seen it as a lack of appetite but his mother just had to go and send him to doctors didn’t she. Emory didn’t offer linger on his childhood, but when he did he often questioned why others hadn’t seen the world as it was viewed through his eyes. What was so hard to understand that he chose not to eat as a challenge to himself? Reflecting back, having lived almost another seven years, he could pinpoint what could have caused concern. “People say that when you don’t eat you feel more beautiful but I’m a boy so why would I want to be that?” Misunderstandings. They were usually quite commonplace with Emory. Some people just couldn’t understand. They could now, he’d changed since childhood. More mature. But back then, maybe he was too rational for his young age.

Maybe another would have turned round to the man and said ‘yes, you did look into how I thought for three months, I’ve grown huh’ but that was too much effort, to both speak and even acknowledge the older man. In the bitter winter all Emory cared for was getting on that bus, going home and placing himself in front of a fire. That’s what he needed, not some reanalysis which he favoured would be on the mans mind. Emory caught sight of himself in the reflective glass of the bus stop. Surely he had changed enough to be unrecognisable from childhood. Isn’t that what science and puberty was for? He couldn’t pinpoint any of his younger characteristics in his own features, but then maybe that was a bias opinion since it was his own and didn’t have the debate of an outside party essentially making it useless. Why did this even matter?

The piercing groan of the braking bus manoeuvred his eyes from his own face and, standing up Emory gave one glance to the man he knew to be his once upon a therapist, cocking a brow as though challenging him to find something wrong. The boy didn’t want for any signs of satisfaction of acceptance from the other, he didn’t crave that, didn’t need it. Since when had he ever, really relied on someone other than himself? People could let you down, so could you yourself, but the chance of that happening was much slimmer than waiting for someone to mess everything up. That was how the world worked. At least through his eyes.

Must be rouerie
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