Warning || OOC
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: whimsy on 20-01-2017, 22:47:00</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Warning || OOC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>whimsy</strong> on <strong>20-01-2017, 22:47:00</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>WARNING</strong></span></span><br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>A Harry Potter Creature War Roleplay</em></span></span><br><br>(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/9e/d0/cf/9ed0cf31f740e2099376472a83a1213b.jpg)<div align="center"><br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font">A warning to the people, the good and the evil<br><em>This is war</em><br>To the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim<br><em>This is war</em></span></div><br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>✷ OOC ✷</strong></span></span><br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>Hogwarts IC</em></span></span> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=261950.0)</div><div align="center">(http://www.clipartkid.com/images/357/divider-ornamental-line-decorative-separator-lRLqzj-clipart.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>CONTENTS</strong></span></span><br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><strong><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">1. The Story so Far<br>2. The Not-So-Distant Future<br>3. Timeline/Chapters<br>4. Characters</span></strong></span></div><div align="center">(http://www.clipartkid.com/images/357/divider-ornamental-line-decorative-separator-lRLqzj-clipart.png)</div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♟</span> <span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>THE STORY SO FAR...</strong></span> <span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♟</span></span></div><br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 11pt;" class="bbc_size">The wizarding world is at war. <br><br>For years, the wizarding world has turned a blind eye to the oppression of its creatures, yet it’s no secret that decades of unrestricted vampire hunting, shady dealings with goblins, and brutal werewolf cullings have effectively segregated wizards from creatures. Now, in 2017, non-wizard wand restrictions are merely the tip of the iceberg when it comes to creature oppression in the 21st century; the deep-seeded resentment that has burned hot and angry under the surface of the creature world since before the first goblin war has come to a head. Secret meetings are being held in the darkest corners of the wizarding world as goblins, vampires, and other creatures nursing an age-old grudge against wizards join together to lead a new mission: if they could not change legislation, they would change the powers that be.<br><br>The first attack happened in Toronto, Ontario on September 3, 2016. A wizarding newspaper office, Vox in Mundum--The People’s Voice--was set ablaze by extremists who were fed up with the paper’s biased anti-creature stance. Canadian wizarding ministers were able to shrug off the attack as an electrical fire gone ary so as not to alert the Muggle authorities, but just under a month later, creature extremists struck again,<br><br>The second attack occurred on October 2 at a remote port off the coast of Africa. A popular destination for wizarding pirates, the rowdy village of Lüderitz--known for its hand in the creature slave trade--fell to pro-creature extremists in a matter of hours. It was apparent that the creatures, hellbent on revenge, took no prisoners. <br><br>Until now, the rumours of a creature uprising had went mostly unanswered by the British Ministry of Magic. The attacks, while troublesome and disturbing, had not happened on British soil; why waste precious man hours attempting to quell a few outbreaks that hardly seemed worth the effort? <br><br>That was the first mistake.&nbsp; <br><br>A third attack shook The College Station Post Office in New York City on November 1, 2016. The death toll on both sides was astronomical; the attack levelled a full city block and scattered mountainous debris for at least three. <br><br>It didn’t take a genius to see the pattern in the dates. September 3, October 2, November 1--3, 2, 1. It was a countdown, but to what, people could only guess.<br><br>The largest attack of 2016 was the one on one saw coming. On December 24, British Ministry of Magic was stormed by an army of creatures with all manner of beast and sympathizer marching with them, the sheer size of the rebel forces rivaling the might of even the fabled Goblin War of years prior. <br><br>Years of tense peace, shattered in a moment.<br><br>The raid came in the form of the lower creatures, those of high number and low intellect. It was a suicide run, but it was effective--nobody in the Ministry was prepared for the wave after wave of bodies that flooded the halls, sewing chaos at every turn. Goblins pilfered historic artifacts and valuable jewels; vampires attacked ministry officials, leaving them to bleed out unceremoniously on the marble floor; disenfranchised werewolves destroyed the files that labeled them as such, and then set other important documents aflame for good measure. The Ministry was descending into chaos as London celebrated Christmas above.<br><br>It took the Aurors hours to put an end to it. Lives were lost on both ends, and it soon became clear that no one was safe. Still, the Ministry made massive efforts to resume order. The few offenders that were captured offered very little information about the origins of the attack, only that it was just the beginning. The Minister himself was baffled by the occurrence, but even more so by the letter that had appeared on his desk: "Sleep well in the easy grasp of darkness, for soon it comes to consume your dreams." In a last-ditch attempt to regain control of the situation, The Minister had all prisoners executed for treason.<br><br>That was the second mistake. <br><br>Rumors, both true and untrue, flooded the wizarding world over the next few weeks. After the Christmas Eve attack, The Ministry expended great effort to prevent widespread panic from gaining a foothold by censuring the Daily Prophet, which now boldly and confidently assured the public that everything was a-okay with plenty of cute, rose-coloured articles. Meanwhile, things were stirring within the creature communities. Local hags were cursing Muggles by the dozens, Gringotts goblins became less and less docile--much less willing to allow witches and wizards to withdraw their hard-earned gold from the vaults--and werewolf attacks had become daily occurrences. However, the Minister insisted that life continue on as normal, continuing to entrust the entire economy of the wizarding world on the Goblins, who hid malicious smiles of sharpened teeth behind the easy guise of familiarity. <br><br>This was the third, and final, mistake.<br><br>The last day of 2016 was the day the wizarding world went dark. Overnight, the Goblins closed Gringotts and effectively shut down all trade in the wizarding world. In the chaos that ensued over the following days, history was made: entire cities were burned to the ground and human families ripped apart as creatures began taking back what they felt was rightfully theirs. The extremists were coordinated and ruthless, and many places fell at their hand; a wild, seething rage ripped across Europe, leaving terror and destruction in its wake. All because the Ministry held onto its bigoted idealism. <br><br>All because the creatures had had enough.<br><br>On January 8, while the rest of the wizarding world was falling apart, the train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry departed King’s Cross Station at 11 a.m., as scheduled. There truly was no safer place for the children, the Minister assured concerned parents. Hogwarts was one of the last bastions of safety, after all. <br><br>Or so everyone thought.</span></span><br><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♜</span> <span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>THE NOT-SO-DISTANT FUTRE</strong></span> <span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♜</span></span></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">shhhh spoilers</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 11pt;" class="bbc_size">A letter arrived the morning of January 13--a Friday, as luck would have it--that promised an attack on the school later that afternoon. Refusing to risk the lives of the children of Hogwarts, the Headmaster ordered an immediate evacuation, instructing his staff to escort all students to Hogsmeade Station immediately. However, as fate would have it, the school and surrounding area was attacked as the students were packing up the train to leave. Sensing a perilous fate for all those around as the battle rose to great heights, the Headmaster forced the train to leave, carrying to safety only those who had the fortune of entering up to that point. It was a hard decision, but s/he needed to save who s/he could. Sacrifice of those left behind would urge those who survived forward in this dark time.<br><br>Upon entering the Muggle world, the remnants of Hogwarts were greeted with utter destruction. Not only had the creatures taken over the wizarding world, but they had set fire to the Muggles' ignorant bliss as well. <br><br>Now, both worlds are split apart due to the creatures that lurk in every corner of the habitable world, each person on their own to survive.<br><br>Eventually the whispers come, whispers of an underground resistance gathering to take on the creatures. Small, but powerful, these whispers bring hope. They bring a promise of relief to a world of fire and death and survival.<br><br>This is the true beginning of the story, where heroes are born and everyone else is left as ash in the burning world.</span></span></div></div><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♛</span> <span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>TIMELINE &amp; CHAPTERS </strong></span> <span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♛</span> </span></div><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>2016</strong></span><br><em><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3 ||</span></em> First attack. Toronto, Ontario. Vox in Mundum. Anti-creature newspaper office. <br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>SUNDAY, OCTOBER 2 ||</em></span> Second attack. Lüderitz, Africa. Center of creature slave trade. <br><em><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1 ||</span></em> Third attack. New York City, New York. The College Station Post Office. <br><em><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">SATURDAY, DECEMBER 24 ||</span></em> Fourth attack. London, England. British Ministry of Magic. Largest attack of 2016. <br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em> SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31 ||</em></span> Gringotts closes. <br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>2017</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>SUNDAY, JANUARY 8 ||</em></span> Hogwarts re-opens after Christmas break.&nbsp; ✷WE ARE HERE✷<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>FRIDAY, JANUARY 13 ||</em></span> Hogwarts is attacked. Most of the children are evacuated via the Hogwarts Express.<br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>CHAPTERS</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>PROLOGUE: WARNING ||</em></span> Most of 2016 ➸ ?? | <em>Currently writing this chapter</em></span> <br><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♚</span> <span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>CHARACTERS</strong></span> <span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">♚</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>LAST, FIRST ||</em></span>| Age; Birthday | | Sex | | Sexuality | | Blood | | Occupation | | House | | Sin | | Alignment | | Face Claim | | Played By |</span></div> <br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>BROOKS, JULIET||</em></span> | 17; January 23, 1999 | | F | | Bisexual | | Pureblood | | Student, 7th year | | Gryffindor | | Acedia | | Neutral Good | | Anna Speckhart | CATastrophe<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>DE LOC, MORGAINNE ||</em></span> | 26; March 20, 1991 | F | | Pansexual | | Pureblood | | Professor, Herbology | | Hufflepuff | | Lust | | Chaotic Good | | Juno Temple | | whimsy<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>HUGHES, ROWAN ||</em></span> | 17; June 30, 1999 | | M | | Asexual | | Pureblood | | Student, 7th year; Dark Wizard | | Slytherin | | Pride | | Lawful Evil | | Jim Parsons | | Ser<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>MOORE, BRENDAN ||</em></span> | 30; December 12, 1986 | | M | | Pansexual | | Halfblood | | Nomad | | HOUSE | | Wrath | | True Neutral | | Sasha Marini | | Ser<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>MORGAN, EMILY ||</em></span> | | 18; February 19, 1998 | | F | | Heteroflexible | | Fullblood | | Student, 7th year; Burnout | | Gryffindor | | Lust | | Chaotic Good | | Willa Holland | | Ser<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>RIDGEWELL, PATRICIA ||</em></span> | 14; March 14, 2002 | | F | | Heterosexual | | Pureblood | | Student, 5th Year | | Slytherin | | Pride | | Lawful Neutral | | Elle Fanning | | CATastrophe<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>RIDGEWELL, VINCENT ||</em></span> | 17; May 22, 1999 | | M | | Heterosexual | | Pureblood | | Student, 7th year | | Slytherin | | Envy | | True Neutral | | Nicklas Kingo | | whimsy<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>STRIKER, STORM ||</em></span> | 21; December 24 | | F | | Homosexual | | Fullblood | | Career criminal | | Gryffindor Alumni | | Greed | | Chaotic Evil | | Billie Turnbull&nbsp; | | CATastrophe<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>UISCE, CAOIMHE ||</em></span> | 115~; "June 21" | | F | | Asexual | | Merrow | | Human Hunter | | "Gryffindor" | | Wrath | | Chaotic Evil | | Nastya Zhidkova | |&nbsp; whimsy</span><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font">| | 6 Female | 3 Male | |<br>| | 2 Asexual | 1 Bisexual | 1 Heteroflexible | 2 Heterosexual | 1 Homosexual | 2 Pansexual | |<br>| | 2 Fullblood | 1 Halfblood | 5 Pureblood | 1 Creature | | <br>| | 1 Acedia | 2 Lust | 1 Greed | 1 Envy | 2 Wrath | 2 Pride | | <br>| | 1 Neutral Good | 2 Chaotic Good | 1 Lawful Neutral | 2 True Neutral | 1 Lawful Evil | | 2 Chaotic Evil | |<br>| | 2 Gryffindor, 1 Alumni, 1 Facade | 1 Hufflepuff Alumni | 3 Slytherin | |</span></em></span></div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>☽☾</strong></span></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Warning || OOC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>whimsy</strong> on <strong>21-01-2017, 18:09:00</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>NPCs</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>Non-player characters controlled by the group</em></span><br><br>(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/8c/cb/6a/8ccb6a19954584cafbf3ce918f027c03.jpg)<br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>NPCs</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">I) Khan</span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">II) </span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">III) </span><br><br><br>(http://www.heavenlyacrespetrescue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/page-break.png)</span></div><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>I. KHAN</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>| | AGE; BIRTHDAY | | SEX | | SEXUALITY | | OCCUPATION | | HOUSE | | SIN | | ALIGNMENT&nbsp; | | FACE CLAIM | | </em></span></span><br><br></span><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">coming soon</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"></span></div></div></div><br><br><div align="center">(http://www.heavenlyacrespetrescue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/page-break.png)</div><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>II.</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>| | AGE; BIRTHDAY | | SEX | | SEXUALITY | | OCCUPATION | | HOUSE | | SIN | | ALIGNMENT&nbsp; | | FACE CLAIM | | </em></span></span><br><br></span><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">coming soon</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"></span></div></div></div><br><br><div align="center">(http://www.heavenlyacrespetrescue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/page-break.png)</div><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>III.</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>| | AGE; BIRTHDAY | | SEX | | SEXUALITY | | OCCUPATION | | HOUSE | | SIN | | ALIGNMENT&nbsp; | | FACE CLAIM | | </em></span></span><br><br></span><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">coming soon</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"></span></div></div></div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>☽☾</strong></span></div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warning || OOC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ser</strong> on <strong>21-01-2017, 18:17:46</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Ser's Characters</strong></span><br><br><em>the chosen few</em><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/large%20line.png)<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>I. Rowan Hughes</strong></span> - <em>Parcelmouth, Bigot, Dark Wizard in Training</em><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>II. Emily Morgan</strong></span> - <em>Burnout, Musician, Nature and Herbology Specialist</em><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>III. Monahan</strong></span> - <em>Father, Nomad, Werewolf on the Run</em><br><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/small%20line%202.png)<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>I. Rowan Hughes</strong></span><br><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/af6612b1-4590-4711-ba36-d6b0f766d474.jpg)<br><br><em>(( Dark Wizard | 17 | Asexual | Lawful Evil | Pride | Jim Parsons ))</em><br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">BIO</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>1. BASICS</strong></span><br>NAME | Rowan Niall Hughes (ROW-ahn; Red) (nAIal; Passionate) (hyOOz; Fire)<br>NICKNAME(S), ORIGIN | Ro, used my many who are close to him<br>SEX | Male<br>DATE OF BIRTH | June 30<br>AGE | 17<br>PLACE OF BIRTH | Dublin, Ireland<br>CURRENT ADDRESS | Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry<br>NATIONALITY | Irish<br>ETHNICITY | Caucasian; Irish, British, Welsh<br>SEXUALITY | Asexual<br>TRAITS |&nbsp; <br><em>Positive</em>: Disciplined, decisive, incorruptible, genuine, creative, alert.<br><em>Neutral</em>: Introvert, mystical, formal, religious, stern, proud.<br><em>Negative</em>: Greedy, presumptuous, steely, gloomy, strong-willed, complacent.<br>OCCUPATION | Dark Wizard<br>ARCHETYPE | The Rebel<br>ALIGNMENT | Lawful Evil<br>SIN | Pride<br>STARSIGN | Cancer<br>HOUSE | Slytherin<br>AMORTENTIA | Leather; old books; fresh tobacco<br>BOGGART | Himself, ridiculed and shamed<br>QUOTE | “Unbound, Unbent, Unbroken” House Martel’s words, GoT<br>SONG | Saviour - Rise Against<br>SECRET |SO MANY OMFG<br>LANGUAGES | Irish, British, Parcel<br>FACE CLAIM | Jim Parsons<br>OPEN | He are a asshat that are do asshat stuff and things.<br>TRIGGER WARNINGS | Many mental illnesses (major depression, dissociation/depersonalization, PTSD, psychosis, sociopathy); bigoted morals, particularly misogyny; severe psychological manipulation; kidnapping; torture; attempted, accidental, and premeditated murder.<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>2. PHYSICAL</strong></span><br>BODY TYPE | Severe Ectomorph<br>HEIGHT | 6’3<br>WEIGHT | 145lbs<br>HAIR | Very short brown hair, usually lightly tousled without care.<br>EYES | Light, icy blue eyes; very piercing<br>BIRTHMARKS | None<br>DISFIGUREMENTS | None<br>SCARS | None<br>PIERCINGS | None <br>TATTOOS | Chest, Family Crest<br>ACCENT | British, almost too sophisticated and precise to be believable; heavy Irish slips out when very angry or drunk.<br>HOW DO THEY DRESS | Casual: corduroy slacks; simple v-neck shirt; leather jacket; dress shoes. Formal: only the best of suits.<br>WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO SLEEP | Loose jogging pants<br>DO THEY WEAR JEWELRY | No<br>WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE | Musty moth balls; bergamot; cigarette smoke<br>ACCURATE MENTAL PICTURE? | Yes. His look is very calculated.<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>3. PERSONALITY</strong></span><br>QUIRK | Has a nervous twitch in his right eye; is nauseated when riding in a car, so he prefers to drive himself when required; corrects people when they use colloquial speech; refuses to drink anything with ice in it; writes with his left hand, but does everything else with right-handed.<br><br>HABITS | Ignores how others react to what he says; taps his fingers on any surface (usually his hip) when deep in thought or agitated; snaps fingers to get someone’s attention; fiddles with cigarette when smoking; excessive eye blinking when concentrating.<br><br>LIKES | Purebloods; putting down anyone with lesser intelligence; cigarettes; Butterbeer and anything with butterscotch; cold, windy winter nights; romantic movies; being alone; when he comes across someone with a weak will; rough textures; Earl Grey tea in a porcelain cup with precisely three sugar cubes and a splash of milk.<br><br>DISLIKES | Mudbloods; anyone who is smarter than him, particularly women; most authoritative figures; excessive drinking; overly inquisitive people; crowded events or any place with a lot of people around; being touched; hypocrites; swimming.<br><br>SELF-PERCEPTION | High self worth, akin to a God Complex. A master of his craft, Rowan believes he can get away with whatever his heart fancies with enough planning and dedication. He believes his actions will bring betterment to the world.<br><br>OTHERS’ PERCEPTION | Pompous, cruel, and set in his ways. Few find Rowan appealing to be around, even those who are relatively close to him. His tendency for bias and bigotry turns most off, but there are a few who share his views and they get along well enough for sociopaths.<br><br>WEAKNESSES | <br><em>Overconfidence</em> - Rowan is overly certain of his intelligence, placing a wall between himself and nearly everyone around him. Since his self-perceived intelligence is so high, he believes he knows how to easily manipulate, bribe, or bully others to bend to his will. He does have an uncanny ability to do such, although he’s not quite as adept as he believes himself to be.<br><em>Immutable</em> - The core beliefs and view of life that Rowan subscribes to is his lifeline; his bent of mind makes everything in his world make sense, and he refuses to waver. This makes him relatively predictable in his dealings, and can be manipulated into trust and complacency by those who make a show of following his rules.<br><em>Pride</em> - His deadly sin. Not one to freely relinquish what he feels he is due, Rowan can become quite angry and vindictive if his sizable ego is bruised or is overlooked. In his eyes, he can do no wrong, and takes an unhealthy amount of pride in his accomplishments.<br><br>STRENGTHS |<br><em>Loyal</em> - Rowan’s main strength is his strong adherence to his beliefs and the unshakeable bond with his snake, Beth. Also, he never goes back on his word, and is loyal to his “friends” up to the point they betray that loyalty, or when they’ve become redundant to his own plans.<br><em>Dark Art Specialist</em> - Ever a creative mind, Rowan has flourished within the manipulative field of the Dark Arts. It’s more challenging than the regular stuff, and it’s also a lot more intuitive. He has created a few key spells that he uses with expertise quite regularly.<br><em>Skilled Manipulator</em> - With his quit wit and years of study, Rowan plays on the emotions of those around him to achieve his goals. Be it with a bribe, a kind word, a threat, or a promise, in general he gets what he wants.<br><br>ASPIRATIONS | To continue his pursuits of knowledge within the Dark Arts; making connections with information and power that he can manipulate and use to his advantage; to get a grip on reality again.<br><br>FEARS | That the Dark Arts isn’t enough to fill the deep void in his soul; that he isn’t smart enough to finish his plans.<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>4. RELATIONSHIPS</strong></span><br>FATHER | Darwin Darcey Hughes; 60 (30 years his senior)<br>MOTHER | Angie Leah Hughes; 49 (19 years his senior)<br>SIBLINGS | None<br>COUSINS | Vincent Ridgewell; 17 - Patricia Ridgewell; 15<br>OPEN: Rowan tends to shy away from any deep relationships, relying solely on himself and his manipulative nature to get him where he needs to go.<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>5. HISTORY</strong></span><br><em>Trigger Warning - mental disorders; torture; suicide; murder</em><br><br>Rowan Hughes is the only child of the Pureblood fanatics Darwin and Angie Hughes. Born in Dublin, Ireland, Rowan grew up with the heavy influences of Pureblood superiority. His father follows the old ways, treating Angie with disdain and forcing the meek woman to perform basic "wifely" duties, not allowing her to have a job. Rowan has picked up on this, and treats all women with this same frame of mind.<br><br>Having been involved in the Wizarding world since birth, Rowan has a healthy respect for power. He has always been sharp with his mind and his words, and learned from an early age that he was smarter than most people his age, and even a few adults he came across. Manipulation came as second nature for him, and he quickly grasped that he could make people do as he wanted with just the right wording. This ability gave him great pleasure, especially when used against women, who he perceives to have a weaker mind. However, because of his mother's docile nature, Rowan has a tendency to overestimate this influence, and has been burned by those who catch on to his tactics more times than he's willing to admit. Shortly after his 10th birthday, on which he had received a pet Garter Snake named Beth, his father walked in on him talking to it. Darwin was ecstatic! Not only was his son relatively brilliant with words, but he was a Parselmouth. This was yet another thing to add to Rowan's ballooning ego.<br><br>When it came time to enter the esteemed wizarding school of Hogwarts, Rowan was excited to finally be able to learn magic. However, that excitement quickly turned to boredom. He grasped concepts easily, could cast spells as quickly as he was shown them, and soon found classes to be tiresome and irritating. He spent most of his class time bullying the slower students relentlessly, much to the ire of his professors. Outside of class, he bullied those same students even more, and got quite the reputation in his first year along with his cousin Vincent as a prankster. As the years went on, he started reading about and eventually dabbling in the Dark Arts. This was more his style, as it was more complicated than the basic stuff they taught the Mudbloods, and he was finally learning something worth learning. This fascination cultivated itself during his years at the school, completely enveloping the mind and soul of the boy.<br><br>In the lull of summer between third and fourth year, Rowan and Vincent attempted to draw in another Pureblood, Juliet, to their duo of pranking. This prank was to be a nice little scare for the girl, a taste of what she could do with the two boys. It didn't turn out that way. Instead of the simple scare, it turned into heartbreak as Rowan's pet snake, Beth, ended up eating one of Juliet's dearest pet rats. The trust she had shown the two boys, simply to have it broken, was enough to harden Rowan, having him throw everything into empowering himself so that none could hurt him the way he had hurt Juliet. It was the beginning of his true story, but he grieved for the lost chance at friendship, always having a soft spot for the girl, regardless of how she ignored him.<br><br></span><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">The Fog of Summer, 2016</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><br>In his sixth year, he banded with a few others who shared his viewpoints, and they started a club, unofficially dubbed the Gruesome Foursome. It was a way for him to practice his passion, and oppress the stupid ones even more. However, that was short lived. After only a year, the four students fell prey to reality, each going down a separate path that drew them all apart. During the first few months of his seventh year, Rowan and a Ravenclaw girl in his intimate group named Eugenia started to develop feelings for each other. Shortly after they professed their feelings, Eugenia suddenly disappeared, leaving the Slytherin to wonder what happened to his little Bird. The following months saw another the other two of his group -cousin Vincent and his girlfriend Willa- crack and break apart, ultimately leading to Willa's demise at the hands of a rogue spirit months later. Vincent was driven to the edge as he had found the body of his girlfriend, while Rowan had gone down a different path of similar mental anguish.<br><br>His mind had started to spin out of control during the slow decay of his group, desperately grasping at whatever made sense at the time. After Eugenia had left the school, Rowan decided to run a twofold test: release some his angst and feelings of betrayal, and practice a spell of his own making -the Black Flame- on a seemingly easy target, Ariana of house Gryffindor. The girl, however, proved to be much more than the simple minded figure she chose to show the world, and after an attempt on his life, Rowan had a new found respect for her. However, he didn't trust his new "friend", deciding to have Beth spy on the girl as an added measure of protection. After this successful test, he threw himself wholly into mastering the spell, withdrawing from his few friends for two months. During this time, he acquired a pass to the Forbidden Section of the library, and made it his second home, all the while getting to know the librarian, an exchange student named Caoimhe.<br><br>At the end of November, the Snake had a run in with Vincent's sister, where his snake, Beth, had attacked the poor girl in defense. Paranoia, guilt, and a sense of losing control took a firm grasp of Rowan's mind, making him isolate even more. The Snake then decided to avoid his entire family, particularly Vincent with whom he shared a dorm, choosing to spend all his free time, including sleeping, in the Forbidden Section of the library. There, Caoimhe and Rowan spent even more time together, sowing seeds of trust that would soon bloom into poison. However, the paranoia that had cultivated in his mind grew during this time, going so far as to make the Snake stay at the school over Christmas Break rather than face the awkwardness and guilt at a family get together. His major fallout with Vincent on December 6th made that decision all the easier to make. The two had words over the incident with Patricia, Vincent's sister, and with the level of alcohol involved, suffice to say it wasn't pretty. Compounded upon this was the mysterious posters that had appeared just days before Christmas Break, on which Rowan was ridiculed for being such an awkward loner of whom even his family had no use for.<br><br>At the beginning of the next term, Rowan is aproached by Ari, who throws the poster in his face, saying she knows who did it. The two then join forces and go after another Gryffindor girl, Cal, with an elaborate plan to scare the shit out of the fiery Lioness. However, once the plan was acted upon later that month, Ari's true intent came to light as Rowan watched Cal fall to her death down five full flights of the Grand Stairway. After the ill begot alliance with the troublesome girl had gone awry, and Rowan realized he was directly responsible for the death of a fellow student, his mind began to teeter closer and closer to insanity. These few cracks finally drew him to seek forgiveness of his cousin, Vincent.<br><br>Vincent gave him a chance, but it was all for naught. The former pranksters extraordinaire had a falling out over the prank they had concocted for Valentine's Day, which threw Juliet, and each other, forever out of their lives. This failure, and the maddeningly bitter farewells of the two people who truly shaped his life, made the Snake decide to do the single most stupid thing in his life thus far.<br><br>Unsure of what exactly he was doing, Rowan gathered his parchment in the library and reread the notes he had on Caoimhe. He was certain she was actually a Merrow, and Merrow had tears, and Merrow tears were worth a lot of money in the underground. Kidnapping the poor thing, he used emotional torture to extract the tears, but would end up spilling as many of his own across his emotionally torn face. The person who he sells the tears to follows him, and sets up the boy so that he has to release Caoimhe. Torn even more from the lows he went to for a measly profit, Rowan runs into the arms of another outcast Slytherin, Gwen, who had recently returned from a trip to Askaban for her involvement of the murder of Willa and a few other students. The two drew solace in each other, at least for a while.<br><br>The weekend before graduation, Juliet was found dead from suicide. The poor girl had attempted it already two weeks prior with a potion of endless sleep, but this time it was real. This struck Rowan harder than anything else before, and he clutched to Gwen, suffocating the flighty girl. Two days later, simply because she could, this supposed friend sold him out to the authorities, telling them of his abilities within the Dark Arts, his kidnapping of Caoimhe, and his part in the death of Cal. This was the final straw for the young man. As he was confronted by the Ministry, his mind snapped. A wild look overtook his eyes, and he spastically threw spells the ministry members, including the Black Flame. He was promptly placed into the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo's, where he spent his nights as his fellow students celebrated their graduation and moved on with their lives.<br><br>A couple months passed, and his mind slowly began to piece itself back together. With the help of an easily manipulated student Healer, Rowan managed to devise a plan of escape. He acquired the ingredients for two polyjuice potions from the Healer, then killed a guard who was delivering supper. Rowan staged the guard's body to look like a suicidal hanging, swapped places using the potions, and escaped St. Mungo's while under the easy guise of death.<br><br>Now, Rowan roams free, seeking shelter where he can while honing his Dark Arts as best he can. His mind is still mending, but his goal is clear. Love is a weakness. It's easier to kill. And forget.</span></div></div><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><br><br>This was all a dream. A psychotic break that lasted an entire summer. None of this really happened, but it sure as shit felt real to the poor Snake. The one thing that was most vivid, however, was the kidnapping of Caoimhe. Hell, he even had a few scars where fingernails had raked his arms during the struggle...<br><br>7th year would be most interesting for the Snake, as he tried to separate dreams from reality.<br></span></div></div></div><br><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/small%20line%202.png)<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>II. Emily Morgan</strong></span><br><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/fc73b322-80a2-49ce-ada7-9707df8bc524.jpg)<br><br><em>(( Burnout | 18 | Heteroflexable | Chaotic Good | Lust | Willa Holland ))</em><br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">BIO</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><br><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">1. BASICS</span></strong><br>NAME | Emily Morgan<br>NICKNAME(S), ORIGIN | None<br>SEX | Female<br>DATE OF BIRTH | February 19<br>AGE | 18<br>PLACE OF BIRTH | London, England<br>CURRENT ADDRESS | Apartment above Dogweed and Deathcap, Hogsmead; Girls Dormitory Bed #9, Griffindor Tower, Hogwarts<br>NATIONALITY | British<br>ETHNICITY | Caucasian; British, German, Scottish<br>SEXUALITY | Heteroflexable<br>TRAITS |&nbsp; <br><em>Positive:</em> Spontaneous, firm, venturesome, undogmatic, eloquent, passionate<br><em>Neutral:</em> Extrovert, soft, unchanging, idosyncratic, folksy, questioning.<br><em>Negative:</em> Artificial, uncharitable, pretentious, airy, fiery, unrealistic.<br>OCCUPATION | Herbologist<br>ARCHETYPE | The Jester<br>ALIGNMENT | Chaotic Good<br>SIN | Lust (crave, hunger, covet, yearn)<br>STARSIGN | Pisces<br>HOUSE | Griffindor<br>AMORTENTIA | Dirt; fresh cut grass; the tangy tin scent of fresh blood<br>BOGGART | A huge, looming, closed door, seemingly about to crush her.<br>QUOTE | “Life’s for the living so live it, or you’re better off dead” - Passenger<br>SONG | I Lived - One Republic<br>LANGUAGES | English<br>FACE CLAIM | Willa Holland<br>TRIGGER WARNINGS | Drug Use; Abandonment Issues. <br><br><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">2. PHYSICAL</span></strong><br>BODY TYPE | Banana; 34-25-34<br>HEIGHT | 5’7<br>WEIGHT | 123lbs<br>HAIR | Deadly straight, mousy brown hair; rarely ever using a brush, it’s never tangled; is typically worn in a messy bun with long bangs framing her face.<br>EYES | Dull jade with specs of gold; simultaneously warm and cool, her gaze can be attentive and whimsical or disinterested and glazed.<br>BIRTHMARKS | None<br>DISFIGUREMENTS | None<br>SCARS | None<br>PIERCINGS | Ears: both lobes, one each. Facial: nose stud, left nostril<br>TATTOOS | None<br>ACCENT | Heavy British, almost slurred at times<br>HOW DO THEY DRESS | Casual/day-to-day: oversize, baggy shirt or sweater over a tight tank; leggings or skinny jeans; clunky army boots; leather jackets. Formal: simple, swishy, comfortable dresses; clunky army boots if able, if not she will go for chucks that match her dress; her “formal”, black leather jacket, regardless of venue<br>WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO SLEEP | boy shorts and a tank<br>DO THEY WEAR JEWELRY | Yes - a cluster of leather bracelets on her left wrist, one for each birthday; a pair of dangling, 3” wooden earrings shaped as drumsticks; simple silver rings (has one for each finger/thumb, but randomly chooses and wears a max of four on any given day)<br>WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE | Stale pot smoke; earthy, from dirt and fresh plant clippings; sweat mixed with Balm of Gilead, which she uses instead of deodorant.<br>ACCURATE MENTAL PICTURE? | Pretty accurate, yes. She likes to give the air that she doesn't give a fuck, but she takes a lot of care to look that way. It's surprisingly hard work to look this carefree.<br><br><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">3. PERSONALITY</span></strong><br>QUIRK | Is, surprisingly, a very active stoner - she will often clean up and organize her space, urge others to go on an adventure, or simply rock out; is super bad with names, but doesn’t trust anyone who can’t remember hers; collects little jars of dirt or sand from each place she visits; has an uncanny sense of direction, but gets easily turned around when inside a building; sarcastic and dry humor, with a tendency to elaborate; can come off as blunt and has almost no filter, but she’s genuine with most of her words.<br><br>HABITS | Salutes with two fingers instead of waving hello; talks with a full mouth; taps absently (with fingers/drumsticks/pencils/etc) on random objects when distracted or bored; slouches; is never without a guitar pick or two, on which she chews on when nervous; rolls eyes and/or raises her left eyebrow when annoyed; will take on just about any dare, disregarding personal safety; has a swagger to her walk that transitions into almost a skip when she’s happy; studies faces almost too long with a blank stare if she’s trying to remember a name (which is often).<br><br>LIKES | Writing epic guitar riffs and drum solos; paying sweet, sweet tunes on either the guitar or her drum set (on both of which she is totally awesome); Cult Films - mostly old school black ‘n white monster type stuff; smoking pot and listening to music, usually punk, reggae, rock, and most bands from the 90’s underground/grunge era; flirting with every boy she comes across, and a couple ladies of choice; being a general badass; anything to do with nature; being outside in the rain, or the sun, or the snow.<br><br>DISLIKES | Mouthy pinheads who have superiority complexes; men in authority (more distrust than dislike); boring people; boring, mundane situations; complex math, science, writing, or any other subject outside her forte; alcohol; the colour yellow; anything to do with pumpkins; Superhero movies; Country Music; too much physical contact; housework when she’s not stoned.<br><br>SELF-PERCEPTION |Knowing full well how much a flake she can be, she owns it. In fact, she believes that she owns every aspect of herself, aside from her fear of abandonment and all the effects that come along with it. She just ignores that part, because it’s easier than dealing with it head on. All in all, she’s convinced that she’s a hoot to be with, no matter the situation, and genuinely thinks she does the best for her friends.<br><br>OTHERS’ PERCEPTION | A total flaky stoner who is always down for adventures. To those who don’t know her, she comes across as disinterested and uncaring, other times understanding and helpful. It all depends on how she feels about the situation and people involved. To those who are close, however, she is a steadfast friend who will move the earth itself for them. Authority figures, especially men due to her distrust, tend to view her as irresponsible and a bit of a cheeky mouthpiece mixed with a healthy dose of innate knowledge of the natural world.<br><br>WEAKNESSES | <br><em>Live-in-the-moment Enabler</em> - friend, you got boy/girl/parent/teacher/dragon issues and want revenge? Let’s do it! Need an adventure to get your mind off things? I’m in! Want to shirk your responsibilities because you hate them? I’ll join ya! --although this&nbsp; could be a strength, she’s too short-sighted to see any negative consequences to this “let’s go” attitude, simply wanting to help her friends feel better asap.<br><em>Blunt</em> - since she’s short-sighted, she doesn’t always realize how harsh her words can be. She does mean the best, though it rarely comes across as such.<br><em>Forgetful</em> - usually when it comes to plans, homework, and names, her mind is a sieve. Unless she deals with someone every day, and sometimes even then, chances are she’ll forget their name.<br><em>Jealousy</em> - although she hides it to most everyone, she can become easily jealous. This comes from an insecurity that she’s not good enough. She’s scared that eventually, her friends, family, and everyone close to her will abandon her.<br><br>STRENGTHS |<br><em>Herbology, Potions, CoMC</em> - her mother owns Dogweed and Deathcap, and her years spent under this influence has made her rather adept in the assocated fields. Her love of animals and general attitude of acceptance makes CoMC almost second nature.<br>Laid back - she tends to accept everyone and every situation as they are, mostly because she couldn’t be bothered to delve below the surface.<br><em>Stable and Spontaneous</em> - having grown up in small Hogsmead, she yearns for any and all adventure yet longs for those singular moments of peace.<br><em>Fiery Defender</em> - At a moment’s notice, she’ll stand up for herself and her friends. Although typically her “come what may” attitude dominates, if rouse by slander etc, her anger can be terrifying.<br><em>Deeply Sentimental</em> - aside from her collection of dirt in jars, she adds a bracelet on every birthday. She also keeps everything, and I mean everything, that her friends give her.<br><br>ASPIRATIONS | Simply to live in the moment, drinking in whatever adventure comes her way.<br><br>FEARS | Being ((dying)) alone; that she’s not good enough; abandonment<br><br><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">4. RELATIONSHIPS</span></strong><br>FATHER | Samuel Morgan; 24 years older; remarried<br>MOTHER | Victoria Morgan; 22 years older; divorced and single<br>SIBLINGS | 2 Step Brothers, Raymond and Cory<br><br><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">5. HISTORY</span></strong><br>Emily Louise Morgan was born in London, England, to parents Victoria and Samuel Morgan, although the family was actually located in the magical village of Hogsmead. Being an only child, Emily was encouraged to assist in looking after the family business, a small Herbology shop by the name of Dogweed and Deathcap. Her younger years were filled with wonder and unbridled acceptance. Aside from the basics of the shopkeep life, her parents encouraged her to do whatever tickled her fancy. However, as she grew older, she started to resent living in such a small location. Granted, the frequent visits from the students of nearby Hogwarts filled the months of school with a nice distraction, they were a lot older than her, and she wasn't allowed to mingle. She grew bored, and quickly. Ever since she realized that there's a world out there, bigger than her village, she yearned for adventure. She ended up learning to play both the guitar and drums as a way to entertain herself. They've become an increasing sense of escapism for her as her ability has grown.<br><br>Upon receiving her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, she was excited for the change of scenery. The first three years were hard on her, though. She wasn't permitted to visit Hogsmead with the older students, despite her family living and owning a shop there. Just a short distance away was her family, and although she hated the confines of the village itself, she missed them immensely during these three years. The hardships grew, however, in the middle of her second year.<br><br>Visiting home for Christmas -one of the few times during the school year she was permitted back home- she arrived to find the shop closed, and the small apartment upstairs dark. There, shrouded in darkness, she found her mother, drunk off sleeping potions, clutching a parchment. When Emily hesitantly took the parchment from her unconscious mother's hands, she noticed it was a letter written in the loose, carefree hand of her father. She hastily read every word twice, shock befalling her. The day before, he had left her, her mother, their shop. All for another man. He said he was sorry for all the lies, and the pain he was going to cause them, but that this was something he needed to do. For him. For them. For Emily.<br><br>That Christmas wasn't the same without him, but Emily tried to make it as bright and cheery for her mother as possible. Together, they got through it, despite the tears, despite the pain, despite the betrayal. "This will only make us stronger," she whispered to her mother when she went into crying fits. "I love you, mom."<br><br>Emily decided to stay home for the second half of the year. Victoria was broken, and someone needed to be there not only to help Victoria keep it together, but also to look after the shop. Things settled down enough for Emily to return to school the following year, though she was forced to redo Second Year due to her absence. Emily took it in stride, however. She knew that what she had done was the right thing to do, for both herself and her mother.<br><br>Five years later, Emily has filled the hole in her heart with something more pure, something easy, something green. In her final year at Hogwarts, the Lioness continues to seek adventure, play her instruments, and support her mother, but now with a little chip on her shoulder and a few suffering grades. She'll never again see the world with rose-tinted glasses, but there's still things of beauty out there. Usually, they're just a stroll, riff, or toke away.<br><br></span></div></div></div><br><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/small%20line%202.png)<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>III. Monahan (Brenden Moore)</strong></span><br><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/f7b9891f-ec71-42cb-997e-c515ea188d9e.jpg)<br><br><em>(( Nomad | 30 | Panexual | True Neutral | Wrath | Sasha Marini ))</em><br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">BIO</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>1. BASICS<br></strong></span>NAME | Brenden (Prince) Mirko (Peaceful) Moore (Bog)<br>NICKNAME(S), ORIGIN | Monahan (Monk); a name he chose for himself after turning.<br>SEX | Male<br>DATE OF BIRTH | December 12<br>AGE | 30<br>PLACE OF BIRTH | San Benedetto del Tronto, Italy<br>CURRENT ADDRESS | Epping Forest, Essex<br>NATIONALITY | Italian<br>ETHNICITY | Caucasian; Italian, Greek, Irish<br>SEXUALITY | Pansexual<br>TRAITS |&nbsp; <br><em>Positive</em>: Suave; charming; calm; decisive; constant; individualistic.<br><em>Neutral</em>: Introvert; noncommittal; stylish; tough; big-thinking; skeptical.<br><em>Negative</em>: Sordid; apathetic; deceitful; fanatical; gullible; repentant.<br>OCCUPATION | Nomad<br>ARCHETYPE | The Caregiver<br>ALIGNMENT | True Neutral<br>SIN | Wrath ( manifestation: selfishness, egoistic, paranoia, narcissism)<br>STARSIGN | Sagittarius<br>HOUSE | Hufflepuff Alumnus<br>AMORTENTIA | Fresh rain; sickly sweet yet stale pastries; wet fur.<br>PATRONUS | Wolf (duh) - Loyalty; Cunning; Intuition; Intelligence; Independence; Compassionate; Communication<br>BOGGART | The Full Moon (cliche, I know. Might change this up)<br>QUOTE | “Some people think this is paranoia, but it isn't. Paranoids only think everyone is out to get them. Wizards know it.” ― Terry Pratchett, Sourcery<br>SONG | The Wolves - Ben Howard<br>SECRET | HE ARE A WEREWOLF, ZOMG<br>LANGUAGES | Irish; Italian; English; Greek; German; Dutch<br>FACE CLAIM | Sasha Marini<br>OPEN | Has two wolves that follow him around everywhere. Most think they are simply his pets, but in reality they are his two daughters.<br>TRIGGER WARNINGS | Murder; brutality; rape; dismemberment<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>2. PHYSICAL</strong></span><br>BODY TYPE | <br>HEIGHT | 6’1<br>WEIGHT | 188lbs<br>HAIR | Black, with a light dusting of grey; tussled without care, but kept short. Black beard; also streaked with grey, albeit much more prominent; typically kept long and thick to hide the mass of scars around his neck and cheeks.<br>EYES | Darkest of brown, nearly black; very weary, there are perpetual black bags and many a wrinkle.<br>BIRTHMARKS | None<br>DISFIGUREMENTS | Missing his left pinky and ring finger; his right ear was mangled and sloppily regrown, leaving it a mess.<br>SCARS | Many, many scars cover his body, the most distinguishing being: a sizable, jagged circle of bite marks adorn his left side just below the ribs; both arms and legs are a patchwork of scars, most notably his left hand which is nearly all scar tissue due to the sheer volume; three long, wide scars that traverse his back from nape to ass; a mass of scars run across his neck, just below the jaw, crisscrossing up and over his cheeks.<br>PIERCINGS |&nbsp; None.<br>TATTOOS | None; he does have a brand of a bloody claw on his right forearm - the symbol of one under the leadership of the Khan clan.<br>ACCENT | He has a very peculiar accent, taking aspects predominantly from Britain, Ireland and Italy, and it makes his speech very difficult to understand as each word has a specific country's tilt to it regardless of the language spoken.<br>HOW DO THEY DRESS | Surprisingly stylish for a nomad - always casual, always functional, yet always flattering; tight garments with layers of flowing fabric; often ripped and dirty.<br>WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO SLEEP | He hardly ever changes when he sleeps, only adding or subtracting layers as is needed.<br>DO THEY WEAR JEWELRY | Very little, but he does have an odd love for thick and sturdy leather bracelets and collars.<br>WHAT WOULD THEY CHANGE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE | Absolutely nothing. His wardrobe is functional and hardly matters, while his scars remind him why he’s fighting.<br>WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE | Sweat, dirt, blood and tears.<br>ACCURATE MENTAL PICTURE? | He’s not very self-aware anymore, despite always being so much in his own head. He just doesn’t care that much about how he looks.<br>OPEN |<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>3. PERSONALITY</strong></span><br>SELF-PERCEPTION | Monahan is not very self aware. He doesn’t really see himself in any light other than the last bastion of safety for his daughters. When he does think of himself, it’s all full of pain and regret, weakness upon weakness. He views himself as a broken man that has only one thing left to fight for. He is a failure in his own eyes.<br><br>OTHERS’ PERCEPTION | Dirty, crazed, and oddly charming. When he’s in a good mood, Monahan is able to charm the pants off of anyone he comes in contact with. More oft than not, he’s sour and foul and suspicious and has a palpable aura of disdain and anger that resonates from his eyes. People tend to stay away from him as he makes them feel incredibly uncomfortable.<br><br>WEAKNESSES | <br>Paranoid - Years on the run has taken their toll on the man. He is always looking over his shoulder, suspicious of everyone, and leaves little to chance. Skittish in even the safest of environments, he is always tense and tends to get worked up over nothing.<br>Over Controlling - His need to protect his daughters leaves very little room for actually living. He tends to keep them on a tight leash, and this striving for survival leaves his family with little pleasure. He is so overbearing that his daughters wonder if this life is worth it, as a life of fear is no life at all.<br>His Daughters - They are the center of his world. His guilt drives him to protect them at all costs, even to the detriment of his own safety and sanity. Many a time he will jump to conclusions, preferring to act first and think later if he suspects even a little hostility towards his children.<br><br>STRENGTHS |<br>Wilderness Master - His time spent with the clan, the schooling at Hogwarts, and the many years on the run have given Monahan the upper hand when it comes to nature. He knows all manner of plants and their uses, can transverse and survive in any possible European climate, and has sharp senses that are finely tuned to the song of the wilds.<br>Charming and Suave - When he deems it necessary, the wolf can don sheeps clothing and parade around with the best of them. He is good at manipulating social situations, but only for a short period of time as his melancholic nature fights him at every step. This strength has been dwindled drastically as the years of hiding grows.<br>Passionate and Dedicated - Once he has chosen a course of action, Monahan strikes with precision. He is unwavering in his decisions, and follows through with zeal. <br><br>ASPIRATIONS | To give his daughters every chance at living, no matter the cost.<br><br>FEARS | Most of his greatest fears have already come true. He now fears the utter annihilation of the remainder of his family.<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>4. RELATIONSHIPS</strong></span><br>FATHER | Name Forgotten, 70’s, estranged<br>MOTHER | Name Forgotten, 70’s, estranged<br>SIBLINGS | 2 older brothers, "names forgotten", 50's, estranged; older sister, name "forgotten", 50’s, estranged<br>SIGNIFICANT OTHER | Delilah Moore (Saria), 20's, dead<br>CHILDREN | 5 Werewolf Cubs; 3 boys, deceased; 2 girls, Summer and June, 4<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>5. HISTORY</strong></span><br><em>Trigger Warning - murder, brutality, rape</em><br><br>Brenden Moore was born to middle-aged parents in the sprawling seaside city of San Benedetto del Tronto, Italy. His mother, a sweet owner-operator of the bakery “Pane e Burro” (Bread and Butter), was a muggle who had fallen in love with his father, an Irish liaison between the Italian Council of Magic and the British Ministry of Magic. Their companionship and love for each other was strong, and it begot them three children -two boys and a girl, the eldest- early on in their marriage. Some 20 years later, the couple had a surprise in the form of a third boy, Brenden. Overjoyed, they raised their new baby boy to be thoughtful and gracious and hardworking.<br><br>His childhood was largely spent in his mother’s bakery with the odd tour of the Italian Council of Magic. Both worlds were equally impressed upon the boy. When not in muggle school, he would often spend his time wandering the city or swimming by the docks. Swimming was one of his favorite pastimes, usually leaving him feeling full of vigor, oldy relaxed, and ready to take on the day. He had a happy first few years, even though all three of his siblings were much older. In fact, he was quite close to all three of them, spending as much time as possible with his sister most of all, who had married rich and lived in a mansion high atop a hill overlooking the city and sea below. His brothers were also great fun, teasing Brenden relentlessly as brothers do but always making sure he was safe and taken care of. The family dynamic was perfect for this latecomer, and he thrived in the warm and supportive atmosphere.<br><br>Upon turning eleven, the fated day where he knew a letter may or may not come informing him of his wizarding powers, his father took the day off so as to be there when the letter arrived. As fate would have it, it did! All four of the Moore children were officially magical, and Mr. Moore was ecstatic. He quickly cleared his schedule for the next week, intent on taking the boy through the floo network to his childhood school of Hogwarts in Britain. Of course Monahan would go there, all the Moores had. After the whirlwind trip, the boy spent the following nine months daydreaming of what it would be like going to the immense school that was part of his family’s heritage. It was a long nine months.<br><br>The years at Hogwarts passed slowly and without incident for the boy, but he was content just being a part of his family’s world. Never one to fall below or rise above the average, he simply glided along in elation and typical Hufflepuff happiness. Eventually, he was gifted the title of Prefect, and he took to the roll with ease. He really shone in the leadership role, and did his best to make sure all his fellow Badgers were well taken care of. He had a lot of role models in the form of his family, and truly the boy came into his own. He had never been so happy. During his first year as prefect, he befriended a first year girl named Morgaine. Their friendship bloomed over the following years, and he came to look at her as a little sister of sorts as time went on.<br><br>Also during his first year as Prefect, he and his fellow Prefect from Ravenclaw, Delilah, became quite close, eventually dating by their sixth year. Shortly after graduation, the two decided to tie the knot and moved back to Brenden’s home town with the intent of taking over his mother’s bakery and starting a family of their own. The girl was quickly accepted as one of the Moore family, and the pair became inseparable. Short squabbles and disagreements littered the first two years, but it ultimately drew them closer to each other with how easily they communicated. Monahan was so intensely happy with his life, and he couldn’t have asked for more.<br><br>When the duo was 22, they decided to travel to Ireland to visit family in the area. Both of them had relatives there, and they relished the idea of a quick adventure before really settling down and starting to have kids. The trip was exactly what they needed, and they decided to spend their last night wandering a lightly wooded area just outside the quaint village where Delilah’s family made their home. The near full moon was more than enough light for the two as they strolled hand in hand, discussing the future and possible children names and which grandparent they should honor with a namesake and wondering if it would be a boy or a girl first. The silence surrounding them swallowed their words, but they paid it no mind as it was late, albeit almost too late to be wandering in the woods with such an early norming awaiting them.<br><br>It really was too late. A sudden flurry of howls and laughter and bodies descended from the darkness surrounding them, so sudden in fact that they couldn’t draw their wands before being hit with a simple spell. “Stupify.”<br><br>Waking up groggily, Brenden noticed he was tied quite tightly to a post with his wife beside him in a similar manner. They had no idea what was going on, or where they were, or what day it was. During his attempt to calm the fear that threatened to eat away at his insides, the young man took notice of a pair of eyes staring at he and his wife from the shadows before him. A soft chortle rung out, rattling his bones and making his hair stand on end. He could feel Delilah freeze and hear her light gasp as she, too, now saw the eyes. “Welcome to my lair, recruits.” Before they could retort, a creak and a clash heralded a window opening above them -they were in a shack of sorts- revealing the full moon was just about to rise through the gloomy twilight of dusk. Their heads shot back towards the body before them as it stepped forward into the growing moonlight.<br><br>“You may call me Khan.”<br><br>The man had a wicked grin on his face that, before their very eyes, grew great fangs as his laughter grew deeper in mirth and tone, louder and louder and louder, until it peaked in a pained gasp. Arching his back, the man named Khan screamed at the moon in a shrill howl as his body contorted and grew and sprouted fur. “My god, he’s a werewolf,” whispered Brenden, eyes wide with fear and rage and bewilderment. Out of nowhere, the beast suddenly shot toward Delilah and took her right thigh into his mouth, her accompanying scream of pain mixing with Brenden’s own cry of rage. Daggers were shot between the man and the wolf as Khan let go of the crying woman and leveled his head with Brenden. He almost convinced himself he could see the gleam of glee in the creature’s eye, and then another flash of white fur and Brenden’s left side was filled with fire, an unbidden scream of pain escaping his lips as loud as his wife’s just moments before.<br><br>The transformation was painful. It was anguish. The worst part, however, is that it was all planned. They later found out that it was happenstance that the two of them were chosen. Unlucky for the first time in his life, it had struck in the worst way possible. And the transformation was just the beginning of the pain the pair would endure over the next few years. The clan of Khan was one of the most organized and feared werewolf clans in all of Europe, largely due to Khan’s ruthless precision in maintaining order for his pack. Every new recruit was trained -a month, a year, as long as it took- to follow orders or be beaten and caged and starved. Eventually, they all bent to his will or were killed under the strain of the brutality. The Moore’s were quick to learn the way of their new “family”, and reluctantly allowed themselves to be swallowed by the pack. They were smart, and had seen other recruits simply waste away in their aversion to the rules. Survival was all that mattered, and to survive they had to play by the rules. Simple as that. Soon, Brenden and Delilah Moore were no more: Monahan and Saria now stood together with their new brothers and sisters as peons of Khan.<br><br>Every full member was given Wolfsbane the night before their transformation, so as not to cause undue harm to the delicate structure Khan had worked so hard to attain. One night, during their fourth year, the pair were out on assignment during a full moon. They had managed to find a safe house for the transformation, but somehow Monahan had misplaced his Wolfsbane potion. He had no time to do anything about it, as the moon was about to come out. That night proved to be his greatest regret, and his greatest blessing. Out of his mind with the lack of the potion, he raped his wife while they were both in wolf form. The next morning, they awoke in each other's arms, both crying and sore and sorry and hurting from the depths of their hearts. The memory of that night would eternally be seared in his mind, relived over and over. It would haunt him for years to come.<br><br>Few cases were documented of werewolves copulating in wolf form, and it was strictly forbidden by Khan. Although the offspring were intelligent, they were also of little use to the ruthless leader and the idea was simply a waste of time. The pair knew they would be leading their unborn children, and perhaps even themselves, to a certain death if they returned. So, they did the only thing they could do. They ran.<br><br>Nine moons passed, and on the final phase Saria -in wolf form- gave birth to a pack of five beautiful wolf pups. When the transformation had run its course, the couple cuddled together as they studied their children with a mix of happiness and horror. The full moon was gone, the sun was up, but yet their pups remained pups. They had no idea that this is what their family would be, two werewolf wizards with five wolves. Not exactly the family they had always dreamed of, but the pair gathered themselves together and plowed ahead through this new adventure as best they could. Nomads, homeless, always looking over their shoulder, they raised their children in the wilderness of Europe, never staying in one place for more than a week. This lasted for nearly a year.<br><br>When travelling through Sweden, they caught scent of a familiar smell. Khan. But by the time they had noticed his scent, it was again too late. Fate was a cruel master when it came to Khan, always seeming to take his side. Telling their children to run fast, run anywhere, get away, Monahan lead the escape away from his former clan leader and the small accompanying hunting party. He heard the laughter ring out, followed by words that still ring in his head to this day: “Saria, how good of you to sacrifice yourself in vein.”<br><br>Screams and tearing flesh urged him to turn in time to see his wife, his world, his confidant, torn asunder. Two of his boys had already turned back to aid their mother, and even as Monahan shouted “NO!”, members of Khan’s pack tore into them and made quick work of the young pups. Filled with rage, Monahan whistled to his remaining family, urging them to run deep into the woods with him. Eventually, chest heaving and heart threatening to pump out of his chest, Monahan scrambled into a cave with his three children.<br><br>A month passed in a haze of depression and tears and cuddles and tasteless food and an unfortunate potionless transformation that left Monahan two fingers less and his remaining son crippled. Deciding that enough was enough, the wolf gathered himself together and set himself on a path back to London, intent on exacting revenge on the Khan clan for the death of his wife and children in the form of the Ministry.<br><br>When he arrived at the Ministry, being haggard and ravished and incredibly insistent, he was given quick audience with a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. After explaining his story, Monahan was sent with a small group of Aurors to confirm that the children existed as proof of his claims. If they did indeed exist, these beautiful and intelligent offspring of werewolves, then the Ministry would offer aid in hiding them from the Khan clan. They could do little more against the clan, they had informed him, as it was far too dangerous to try to quell head on. They had been doing such for years to little avail, so protection is what they could offer. He accepted. He had no other choice.<br><br>Once the children were shown in their hiding spot in the wilds, the Aurors nodded and drew their wands. “Brenden Moore, you are under arrest for unregistered lycanthropy, multiple counts of abduction, murder, and unlawful lycanthropy infection.” Anger flashed in the man’s eyes, “What? I was promised protection for my children. What is this?” He subconsciously stepped forward between the Aurors and his children, acting as a shield.&nbsp; A sly smile grew on the acting leader of the Aurors,“Your pets are to be put down. No safer place than death, no?”<br><br>Monahan didn’t remember the moments that followed that statement. He jolted back into himself by the insistent prodding of one of his daughters, and slowly took in the sight before him. Five bodies lay in blood across the grassy hill, four Aurors and the shiny black body of his only boy. A scream of rage rang forth as he lept to clutch as the broken body of his son. Two streaks of grey joined him in his movement, and the family of three mourned yet another death.<br><br>It’s been two years. Monahan protects his daughters, Summer and June, with every fiber in his body as they’re all he has left. His old family is a memory. Pain. The clan is a memory. Pain. His wife, his sons, his life, his existence. It’s all memories. All pain. Only two things matter now.<br><br>He will let nothing take his daughters away from him; he will get his revenge.<br><br></span></div></div></div><br><br>(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e237/Random_911/small%20line%202.png)</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Warning || OOC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CATastrophe</strong> on <strong>21-01-2017, 23:43:38</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 20pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>CAT'S CHARACTERS</strong></span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 36pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span></div><br><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">PATRICIA JANE RIDGEWELL</span></span></strong></div><div align="center">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/89/22/d3/8922d37ccd36722a37faecd31ea4cec7.gif)</div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> The Achiever | 15 | Heterosexual | Lawful Neutral | Pride | Elle Fanning</span></span></div><br><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Character Sheet</div><div class="spoiler_body"> <span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><br><strong>1. BASICS</strong></span></span><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size">NAME || Patricia Jane Ridgewell<br>NICKNAME(S), ORIGIN || She loathes the nickname Patty, but will accept Tricia if you simply must shorten it. Mostly everyone just calls her Patricia.<br>SEX || Female <br>DATE OF BIRTH || March 14th <br>AGE || 15<br>PLACE OF BIRTH || Ireland<br>CURRENT ADDRESS || Girl’s Dormitory Bed #2, Slytherin Dungeons Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry<br>NATIONALITY || Irish<br>ETHNICITY || Caucasian; Irish, <br>SEXUALITY || Heterosexual<br>TRAITS ||&nbsp; <br>Positive: charming, intelligent, articulate, confident, decisive, observant <br>Neutral: ambitious, perfectionist, private<br>Negative: manipulative, disloyal, vengeful <br>OCCUPATION || Student<br>ARCHETYPE || The Achiever<br>ALIGNMENT || Lawful Neutral<br>SIN || Pride<br>STARSIGN || Pisces<br>HOUSE || Slytherin<br>AMORTENTIA || The seaside, chamomile tea, freshly baked bread <br>BOGGART || her family carrying on with life as if she doesn’t exist<br>PATRONUS || Salamander - Energy, Secrets, Growth, Adaptability, Opportunistic.<br>QUOTE || “We should not give away a moment to anyone who does not deserve it.” -&nbsp; Deb Caletti<br>SONG || Fool’s Gold by The Middle East<br>SECRET || Self-harm is one among many.<br>LANGUAGES || English<br>FACE CLAIM || Elle Fanning<br>TRIGGER WARNINGS || Self-harm, death<br><br><strong>2. PHYSICAL</strong><br>BODY TYPE || Straight, lean<br>HEIGHT || 5’7’’<br>WEIGHT || 123lbs <br>HAIR || Naturally straight blonde hair, usually styled with a braided crown or headband.<br>EYES || Ice blue<br>BIRTHMARKS || Three beauty marks in the shape of a triangle on the back of her left shoulder<br>DISFIGUREMENTS || None<br>SCARS || Several scars trail along her forearm and wrist but most have been faded away with potions or are covered with bracelets and long sleeves.<br>PIERCINGS || Ears, first hole<br>TATTOOS || None<br>ACCENT || Light Irish accent with a loose proper English influence<br>HOW DO THEY DRESS || Patricia dresses in clean, crisp clothes. Pastels and khaki colors are her primary colors. You will never find this girl in sweatpants or anything of the sort. Instead, she chooses blouses and button-up shirts in light, airy fabrics. She enjoys wearing dresses or pants but loathes skirts. Jeans and dark colors are in her wardrobe, but worn on rare occasions. Patricia loves pink, collared shirts and other simple pieces that she can dress up or down with accessories. She has quite the shoe collection as well, and she will always prioritize a cute outfit over comfort. <br>WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO SLEEP || Night gowns or button-up pajama sets in the winter. Most are in varying shades of pink. <br>DO THEY WEAR JEWELRY || Yes, earrings, lots of bracelets/bangles and the occasional necklace. She rarely wears rings. <br>WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE || Floral perfume and mint<br>ACCURATE MENTAL PICTURE? || Yes, she takes great pride in her appearance. <br><br><strong>3. PERSONALITY</strong><br>QUIRK || snaps a hair tie against her wrist when she is agitated; squeaks when she sneezes; skips when she is in a good mood ; pulls on her earring when she lies ; sleep talks (incoherent mumbles) ; has a high pitched laugh; fiddles with and jingles her bracelets during moments of silence<br><br>HABITS || brings a camera everywhere; keeps a perfectly clean bedroom; pinches the back of her hand when she is bored in class; uses lots of hand gestures when she speaks; crosses her arms when she is thinking; dots her i’s with little hearts<br><br>LIKES || being at the beach when it feels like it's going to rain; tea; flying; summers spent running wild with her siblings; expensive things; being complimented; organizing things; making her parents happy; proper gentlemen; secrets<br><br>DISLIKES || silence; hugs; wasted talent; waiting in line; unkempt hair; politics; overly sentimental people; walking around in the dark alone; being alone in general<br><br>SELF-PERCEPTION || Patricia struggles with understanding who she really is as a person. Her ever-changing ideas and personality leave her with few characteristics to really grasp onto when she is alone. But she does know that she is a Ridgewell, and that counts for something.<br><br>OTHERS’ PERCEPTION || bubbly, likable, and friendly. most people will see Patricia as they want to see her - she will change to fit their needs and personalities, making her a friend to all when she wants to be. Some may see her as their secret keeper, some may have caught onto her constantly changing dispositions. To most and many, she is considered a friend. <br><br>WEAKNESSES || impatient; desperate to please; vacillating with her ideas/beliefs; unclear of who she is; demanding; in class, she is not fond of Potions or Herbology (too labor intensive)<br><br>STRENGTHS || social butterfly; charming; quick-witted; adaptive; in the classroom, she is particularly well-rounded, with her strongest subjects being History of Magic, Charms, and Transfiguration.<br><br>ASPIRATIONS || to become a photojournalist for the Daily Prophet and capture all of the world’s most significant moments. Also, make her parents proud<br><br>FEARS || her fingernails being ripped off; being alone<br><br>WHAT MAKES HIM/HER IRRATIONALLY ANGRY || people who chew too loudly or with their mouth open; when someone doesn’t stick to the plan<br><br>WHAT MAKES HIM/HER CRY || feeling like she has failed at something<br><br>WAYS TO CHEER UP THIS PERSON || compliment her; make her tea; tell her a story about your past/childhood<br><br>WAYS TO ANNOY THIS PERSON || mess up her hair; ignore her during group conversations; be indecisive<br><br><strong>4. RELATIONSHIPS</strong><br>Patricia can make anyone feel like they're her best friend. She is an intent listener and charming to boot. In actuality, however, she finds very little sentimental value in people. Friends are easily tossed aside when necessary, and her sharp tongue can come out at any moment if she so pleases. Despite this, she is not one to often burn bridges. Patricia finds comfort in being surrounded by people, and she takes great pleasure in being a collector of secrets. Dark ones, silly ones, secret crushes. She wants to know them all. That is not to say she won't use them against you - the only people safe from her wrath when provoked are her siblings - but most of the time she simply enjoys having the knowledge. She is a chameleon of sorts, easily changing her attitude to fit in with those around her. She prefers to hang out with an older crowd, her maturity level fluctuating as well. At times, Patricia can be calm, cool, and collected with a haughty vibe, and others she will be expressive and bright, cheerful and engaging. Few people know the true Patricia, because even she is unsure of herself. Being alone leaves her with an empty feeling - with nobody's attitudes and beliefs to copy, who is she? So the girl tries to keep company wherever she goes. The line is often blurred between feigned friendships and real ones.<br><br><strong>5. HISTORY</strong><br>Her first clear memory is a flash of green light. The streets of London were quiet. It was late at night - the oldest Ridgewell girl had insisted that they retrieve her birthday present, a specially engraved toy broomstick fit for only the most stylish and sporty of four year olds, at midnight exactly on the eve of her birthday. Olaf had thought it unreasonable at first, but who was to deny his first born daughter of a special birthday wish? Katrina Ridgewell was back home, resting comfortably after having put Vincent and Dalhia to bed, so it was just Olaf walking along, gift box under his arm and Patricia's hand held tightly in his. <br><br>Mr. Ridgewell was wary of attempting side-along apparation with his young child, so instead of simply popping back to their home in Ireland, they traveled via Portkey. The rusted metal trash can was parked in a secluded alleyway to which they walked quickly, Olaf's grip tightening around the end of his wand as Patricia's little legs moved in great leaps. The little witch was thrilled with her new birthday gift; she couldn't wait to return home to her brother and show him that they could finally fly together! She hummed happily to herself as they walked, smiling her big birthday smile, until something spoke out of the darkness. "Spare bit of change, sir?"<br><br>Olaf Ridgewell continued walking. The homeless muggle man's face was hidden in a shadow as they passed. Patricia tried to keep up with her father's increased pace but she was pulled back. Leathery, cold fingers wrapping around her wrist as she shrieked in surprise. "Please, just a few pence." Her father continued forward from momentum, the four-year-old's arms yanked in two different directions before Olaf turned to face the beggar, wand drawn and eyes full of fury. "Avada Kedavra."<br><br>With a flash of green light, the man fell to the ground as a heap of tattered clothes. Surely nobody would miss him.<br><br>Olaf tucked his wand away in his jacket pocket and gently scooped Patricia up, carrying her the rest of the way to their destination. The Portkey was waiting for them at the end of the walkway. Gripping the edge of the trash can, Olaf held tight to his daughter and her birthday present until they reappeared in front of the Ridgewell home. <br><br>Patricia was tucked away in bed, her present placed in the corner of her bedroom - she would show Vincent in the morning. "Happy birthday, my sweet," Olaf said before turning out the lights. As the little girl rolled over, closing her eyes to see that same bright green color, Olaf climbed into bed with his wife and slept soundly until morning.<br><br>She lived a pleasant life beyond that. The events of her birthday, while disturbing, were not completely processed by the four year old. Other than the occasional nightmare, she had almost completely forgotten about it while growing up. <br><br>Patricia spent summers with her siblings and cousin Rowan, roaming the Irish countryside and practicing their wand-work with twigs they found laying about the ground. The prospect of Hogwarts was so incredibly exciting for the young witch! But, alas, Vincent went first. While her brother was away, Patricia was left to look after Dahlia and find her own sources of entertainment, which proved to be difficult. She missed Vincent dearly and longed for the days where she and him and Rowan would once again be able to get into all kinds of mischief. <br><br>In the meantime, the Ridgewell girl was primped and preened to look and act as the ideal young lady representative of such a proud line of purebloods. With her brother gone and few other influences than her parents and nanny, Patricia grew to have a much harsher outlook on those who's blood was tainted by muggles. Like the beggar that grabbed her arm on that fateful night, Patricia both fears and resents mudbloods and muggles alike. But the memory of that man lying in a lifeless heap never truly left her mind. When she was old enough to realize exactly what her father had done - the way he so easily took a life - she did everything she could to get that moment out of her head.<br><br>This was when the eldest Ridgewell girl began taking pictures. She would drag her sister out on adventures, much like the ones they had with Vinny, along the Irish countryside so that she could capture beautiful things. She made new memories, took new pictures, and soon she realized that she had quite the talent for capturing the beauty of the moment. Her camera went with her everywhere, and that habit continued on her journey to school.<br><br>Upon receiving her invitation to Hogwarts, Patricia was both ecstatic to be joining forces with Vinny once more, and sad to be leaving her younger sister behind. She knew how it had felt, being alone. But she went. The ride to Hogwarts express with Vincent and Rowan was a bundle of laughs, and the prospect of which house she would be placed in didn't seem as daunting anymore. Surely, she would be with family. Patricia did not know if she was cunning or smart or brave or loyal, but she knew that Vincent was a snake and therefore she would be, too.<br><br>The sorting hat hadn't taken long to decide - her admiration for her brother and his house was the only thing on her mind as she sat on that stool in the Great Hall. Finally, she joined ranks with Slytherin and began her years at Hogwarts<br><br>An exceptional student, Patricia charmed her professors with ease throughout her beginning years at Hogwarts. With a drive to prove herself and make her parents proud, she took every chance she could to live up to Ridgewell expectations. Thankfully, Vinny was always around to lend a helping hand - well, when he wasn’t getting into mischief of his own, that is. Realizing that she could not tag along with her brother and his older friends all the time, Patricia began to truly break out of her shell. It was not difficult for the sociable snake to make friends. By her second year, Patricia had made many an acquaintance throughout the castle. She flitted between groups of all kinds, but there was one group in particular that the Ridgewell girl could not manage to break into: the Slytherin quidditch team.<br><br>After failing to make the cut, Patricia found herself clinging to her brother and his friends even more. Something, it seemed, that her cousin Rowan did not appreciate. Again, she found solace in new friends and acquaintances, but she could never quite shake the feeling of failure. She pushed harder, trained more, and by her third year she became a beater for the team. Finally, she would get to join her brother on the pitch! However, her success did not fix the emptiness. This was when the Slytherin girl realized that something quite different was bothering her. Hollow friendships and feigned smiles began to eat away at her. Seeking a release, she took to self harm as a way to escape the numbness that washed over her. It started absentmindedly at first, fingernails digging into her skin when dangerous thoughts crept into her head. Soon, however, she began finding other means of escaping, and the evidence littered her forearms with pink scars. <br><br>Despite her private struggles, Patricia continues to excel. When she is not studying, practicing quidditch or chatting cheerfully with friendly faces, the Slytherin wanders about the castle in search of a new picture to take, a new memory to capture, a new moment to savor. </span></span></div> </div></div></div><br><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">SABRINA 'STORM' STRIKER</span></span></strong></div><div align="center">(https://media.giphy.com/media/vccBxn6A6zwYM/giphy.gif)</div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> The Rebel | 21 | Homosexual | Chaotic Evil | Greed | Billie Turnbull</span></span></div><br><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Character Sheet</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><br><strong> 1. BASICS</strong></span></span><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size">NAME || Sabrina ‘Storm’Striker<br>NICKNAME(S), ORIGIN || Storm, a codename given to her by her parents when they would involve her in heists <br>SEX || Female<br>DATE OF BIRTH || December 24th<br>PLACE OF BIRTH || Monte-Carlo, Monaco<br>CURRENT ADDRESS || Wherever there’s trouble<br>NATIONALITY || Irish<br>ETHNICITY || Caucasian; Irish, English, German, Romanian<br>SEXUALITY || Homosexual<br>TRAITS ||&nbsp; <br>Positive: outgoing, adventurous, clever, confident, daring, resourceful, chill<br>Neutral: intense, outspoken, tough, determined, bold, self-reliant<br>Negative: abrasive, deceitful, devious, greedy, poorly mannered, tactless, <br>OCCUPATION || Career Criminal<br>ARCHETYPE || The Rebel<br>ALIGNMENT || Chaotic Evil<br>SIN || Greed<br>STAR SIGN || Capricorn<br>HOUSE || Gryffindor<br>AMORTENTIA || Basil, old leather and a slight hint of blood<br>BOGGART || A waiting noose<br>PATRONUS || Bobcat - Awareness. Strategy. Cunning. Intellect. Patience. Playfulness<br>QUOTE || “If you’re good at something, never do it for free” - The Joker<br>SONG || Talking of Michelangelo by Bayside<br>SECRET || She’s an open book. Unless she’s trying to cross you, of course. Nobody except her family knows her real name, though.<br>GOAL || Have a good time, not a long time<br>LANGUAGES || English<br>FACE CLAIM || Billie Turnbull<br>TRIGGER WARNINGS || Suicide<br>OPEN || She has a pet falcon named Maverick that follows her everywhere<br><br><strong>2. PHYSICAL</strong><br>BODY TYPE || straight, ruler<br>HEIGHT || 5’1’’<br>WEIGHT || 104lbs <br>HAIR || Bleach blonde, crew cut. Sometimes she lets the top grow out or styles it into a fauxhawk. Never more than pixie cut length.<br>EYES || Black, like her soul<br>BIRTHMARKS || A red one on the back of her neck, vaguely shaped like a bunny rabbit, or so she’s been told<br>DISFIGUREMENTS || None<br>SCARS || Plenty. Some on her shoulders, a few on her stomach and back from various close encounters. The one she tells the story about most often is a tiny one at the end of her right eyebrow. <br>PIERCINGS || Everywhere. Sometimes her nose is pierced, sometimes it isn’t. Her septum is also pierced on occasion. Her ears are scattered with small silver hoops up her lobe as well as a bar across her cartilage in her left ear.<br>TATTOOS || Too many to count. She has “no fear” scrawled sloppily across her right tricep, a lion tattooed beneath the knuckle on the middle finger of her left hand, her left forearm has a magical compass&nbsp; tattoo that actually functions as such, two anchors tattooed on her chest below both her collar bones, a lightning bolt on the index finger of her right hand, “open your eyes” in neat script down her left wrist. She lost count after that, but the rest are scattered along her thighs and up her ribs.<br>ACCENT || She has an Irish accent, but it’s very muddled due to her nomadic roots<br>HOW DO THEY DRESS || Storm is dressed to kill. Literally. When on a job, she will usually wear whatever she can move around in most easily - often a big tshirt to hide her weapons and shorts or jeans that don’t hug too tight. She loves ripped clothing, leather, and black is a necessity. Band t-shirts and a fur vest also pop up from time to time. For shoes she usually wears boots because they are useful for both running and kicking people in the face. <br>WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO SLEEP || Wouldn’t you like to know ;) (honestly… nothing)<br>DO THEY WEAR JEWELRY || All of her piercings, but other than that she doesn’t like to keep jewelery on her person.<br>WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE || Cigarette smoke, sandalwood, sage and a little bit of dirt <br>ACCURATE MENTAL PICTURE? || Storm doesn’t think about what she looks like often, but whenever she catches her own eye in a reflective surface she knows the deal<br><br><br><strong>3. PERSONALITY</strong><br>QUIRK || Sometimes she twirls knives absentmindedly or to keep her hands busy, sometimes she does it to fuck with you; takes things apart when she’s bored; gives everyone strange nicknames and never bothers to remember their real names; cracks her neck all the time; curses under her breath constantly; laughs at her own jokes <br><br>HABITS || Exclusively wears black underwear; meditates every morning ; flips her friends off as a means of greeting; picking fights when she’s drunk, especially if you look at her the wrong way; paces back and forth when she’s planning something; thumps people on the back when they make her laugh; has to have a cigarette as soon as she wakes up<br><br>LIKES || Ripped clothes; charms; taking things apart, but not putting them back together; the sound of loose change; knife twirling; archery; industrial aesthetics; bondage; leather; scented candles; shepherd’s pie, but only the way her mom made it; bloody noses; girls; bruises; adrenaline rushes; gambling; breaking the rules, getting away with it; tattoos; good movies, good music; yoga; when people underestimate her<br><br>DISLIKES || An honest day's work; citrus; wearing her glasses; having to hide out from loan sharks; bright colors; tequila; tightasses;&nbsp; shitty comedies; overgrown man babies; people who try to make her feel insecure; talking about her family; potions<br><br>SELF-PERCEPTION || Storm knows that she is good at what she does and that’s why she does it. She doesn’t view herself as evil or cruel or even a real wrong-doer. She gets people what they want, and in turn she gets what she wants. Mostly, she views herself as a good time and a creative problem solver, and if anyone thinks any differently they can say it to her face, punk. <br><br>OTHERS’ PERCEPTION || In school Storm was often viewed as a delinquent with wasted potential. Now, she is viewed as a delinquent who is living up to all of her potential. A successful career criminal, Storm is most often mistrusted or feared in people’s eyes. Or both. They know not to cross her, but they also know that she will cross them in a heartbeat. To her friends, various acquaintances and lovers, however, Storm is an enjoyable and exciting person to spend time with. <br><br>WEAKNESSES || Can't stay in one place for long; will do anything for the thrill of it; she makes an awful first impression; forming an emotional connection with people; doe eyes; terrible speller<br><br>STRENGTHS || Cunning; stealthy; fiercely determined; unwaveringly steadfast in her beliefs; an expert at all things weaponry; makes friends easily; excellent at transfiguration and dueling; theft and heists; she can talk her way out of almost anything, and the rest of it she can certainly fight her way out<br><br>ASPIRATIONS || Master the art of day-to-day survival<br><br>FEARS || Settling down; having her autonomy taken away from her; commitment<br><br>WHAT MAKES HIM/HER IRRATIONALLY ANGRY || when people try to shortchange her; men who don’t know her place; anyone nagging her about anything ever<br><br>WHAT MAKES HIM/HER CRY || a good kick to the ribs<br><br>WAYS TO CHEER UP THIS PERSON || find the nearest party; play loud music; get her adrenaline pumping; give her a job to do<br><br>WAYS TO ANNOY THIS PERSON || blow her cover when she’s in stealth mode; interrupt her when she’s telling a story; be a nark <br><br><br><strong>4. HISTORY</strong><br>Sabrina Striker was not exactly raised under normal circumstances. Born to a long line of devious crooks, she was taught two things: only own what you wouldn't mind losing, and don't ever, ever get caught. This philosophy got her through a hell of a lot at Hogwarts and, now, the 'real' world. <br><br>When she started school, Hogwarts soon became the most stable home the young witch had ever known. Before receiving her letter, conveniently addressed to "Miss S. Striker, Cot in room 3B of The Batty Box Inn, Dublin, Ireland,” Sabrina would travel with her parents as they set off in search of new - ahem - “business opportunities”. By the time she was seven years old she had assisted in the theft of Dragon eggs, King Arthur’s armor, and nearly five hundred times her weight in gold. It wasn’t just a living for the Strikers, it was a skill. When she was sorted into Gryffindor, Sabrina had already seen more of the world than many of her own professors - albeit only in fast blurs from behind a tattered invisibility cloak. <br><br>Throughout her earlier school years, the lioness would make use of her talents throughout the castle, nicking things from the Teacher’s Lounge, sneaking away from the kitchens with an abundance of sweets, and even going as far as to charge students for books that she would pilfer from the library’s Restricted Section. Due to her skewed moral code, Sabrina was constantly viewed as a waste of great potential. Her professors, despite having some serious suspicions that she was the elusive “Storm” responsible for a growing market of illicit dealings in Hogwarts, were unable to ever pin it on her directly. Instead, they watched a talented young witch slither her way out of responsibility, only handing in the occasional assignment when it suited her - or, rather, when she was fortunate enough to find a Ravenclaw that owed her a favor. By the time she was a fifth year, Sabrina had managed to float through her OWLs with astounding proficiency - which, of course, was suspected to have been linked to another one of her cheating scandals, but it could never be proven. <br><br>Regardless of her newfound smarts in the classroom, Sabrina’s fifth year at Hogwarts was also her last. Not that she knew it at the time, but the Gryffindor would soon find that there were some things even she couldn’t get away from. In the summer of 2011, Storm was traveling through Prague with her parents, working on some negotiations for a few coveted Goblin-made chalices when they were ambushed by Snatchers. Jill and Gambit Striker had acquired a mighty debt and a long list of enemies in their line of work, and this was the summer it all caught up to them. Storm wasn’t surprised, of course. She knew her parents did things off the books and that kind of job description always comes with a disclaimer or two. They were in danger, but it’s not like they hadn’t been before. She knew they would get out of it together, like always. She knew her parents loved each other and she knew she loved them. What she didn’t know, though, was about the Unbreakable Vow.<br><br>Young, foolish, and a few shots in on the eve of their makeshift wedding, Jill and Gambit took a new approach to promises. With a thin stream of fire wrapped around their entangled hands, they swore “If we ever get caught, we die together.”<br><br>Sabrina never knew the urgency with which her parents had to get away with things. She just knew that they always managed it somehow.<br><br>A few Snatchers soon turned into a few more, and a few more lead some Ministry workers into the mix, leaving them with no escape. “She’s got the trace!” her mother shouted, bolting through a small crowd as her father shot spell after spell over his shoulder. “We can’t all apparate out of here!” <br><br>Sabrina couldn’t talk. Her lungs were inhaling fire that was spreading into her veins, her legs moving along the uneven, cobbled road. A spell flew past her left ear, hitting a muggle square in the face and, before he could even dodge out of her way, he collapsed to the ground. He became a hurdle that the lioness leaped over, her ears focused on the blasts from behind as her feet flew ever forward. <br><br>Gambit caught up to them, his wand snapped from a rogue spell as they made a sharp left onto the Charles Bridge. “They’ll have… more” he panted, waving his free hand toward the other side of the bridge. More aurors, more snatchers. All of them would be waiting. This was finally something they couldn’t sneak their way out of. <br><br>“Sabrina, baby,” Sabrina looked at her mother, wide eyed with fear at the soothing sound of her voice. Her mother was the first to get a laugh out of a good chase, but not this time. “Do not stop running” she always had the best stamina, her mother. “Do you hear me? Do not stop.”<br><br>The sixteen year old nodded, determination setting her face forward once more as she found new life in the city air, her wand clutched confidently in one hand as she grazed her mother’s with the other.<br><br>But she had pulled away. A shared look between Gambit and Jill led them left, toward the guardrail as a few aurors were quickly advancing. Sabrina’s pace slowed, just barely, as she watched her parents jump. She waited for them to apparate - disappear in mid air. They would find her eventually. They needed to get out, get safe. Then they could come back for her. But instead she watched as two nooses were conjured around their necks with a wave of her mother’s wand. <br><br>“NO!”<br><br>Down, down, down they went to meet the water until, instead of the snap of a bungee cord, her ears were met with the snap of their necks. The other ends of the ropes had snaked around a lamppost, pulling taut when they were met with the weight of silly promises, leaving Gambit and Jill hanging just above the water beside the bridge. <br><br>But she didn’t stop running.<br><br>With the Ministry workers now distracted by that mess, Sabrina was met with little resistance on the other side of the bridge. Snatchers were sniffing around for the real money - her parents heads were worth thousands. The name Storm didn’t even ring a bell to them yet, but it would.<br><br>She didn’t return to Hogwarts after that summer. Instead, she had spent the rest of her time traveling around the Czech Republic, making a living and a name for herself through the many shady dealings she had bore witness to while traveling with her parents, until she was seventeen and officially free of any Ministry trace. Dragon eggs became her niche market that summer. Easy to attain, even easier to sell for exorbitant prices. She didn’t mind getting a few scratches and burns along the way.<br><br>When she returned to the UK, Storm still didn’t settle. Instead, she set off traveling from London to Waterford to Newport in search of old hideouts where her parents had stashed a few of their more valuable treasures. She collected them carefully, stealthily, one by one she found every last bit of gold, galleons, and goodies that they had acquired over the years. And then she sold everything she could. The money has been enough to keep her bouncing from pub to pub for a nightly stay, and Knockturn Alley soon became the Gryffindor’s preferred place of business. However, a deal gone sour left the lioness searching for a safe place to hide out until it all blows over. <br><br>Hogwarts seemed to be the perfect choice, so on October 31st the vagabond settled into the Shrieking Shack. She established quite the nice business during her stay in Hogsmeade. Drugs, illicit potions, break-ins and body-guarding. Storm did it all. On the days that she wasn’t busy hustling, Storm would enjoy a pint at the Hog’s Head or even join her dear Ridgewell cousins for a night of drinking on the Hogwarts quidditch pitch. She had not seen the three toe heads for ages, largely thanks to their parents’ falling out. They had grown up to be quite the little devils and she enjoyed their company immensely. She was having a nice time - too nice, even. <br><br>Storm met a girl that was as elusive and non-committal as she was and boy did that not end well. Break-up and make-up sex were a thrill at first, but weeks and weeks of back-and-forth between the two was draining the Gryffindor alumnus in a way that she did not know she could be drained. This girl had quite the hold on her, and yet neither of them wanted to admit it. Storm was not used to being emotionally invested in anyone or anything. After a particularly bad fight in mid December, where words and teacups alike were hurled with the intention to harm in the middle of Madame Puddifoot’s, Storm took off for good. She returned to the Shrieking Shack only to grab her most valuable items. Her gold, her dagger and her falcon. The rest could rot there for all she cared. Then, without so much as a goodbye to anyone, she set off for… anywhere. <br><br>Returning back into the swing of things was easy enough. It seemed that a few weeks under the radar did the lioness good. Soon, she was once more exploring the darkest depths of the wizarding world, and she was very interested in what she found. Rumors of an uprising began to bubble amongst the downtrodden. Plans and schemes of a hostile takeover found their way to her waiting ears. Something wicked was forming in the creature world. Something she looked forward to seeing pan out. Now, Storm continues to follow a strict policy of keeping her mouth shut and her eyes open, always searching for a new opportunity. </span></span></div> </div></div></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Warning || OOC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CATastrophe</strong> on <strong>22-01-2017, 09:38:01</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 20pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>CAT'S CHARACTERS PT 2.</strong></span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 36pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">⟡</span></div><br><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">JULIET MARIE BROOKS</span></span></strong></div><div align="center">(http://i1061.photobucket.com/albums/t472/liquid_amnesia/SW/tumblr_m66oxy0Z6h1qf5qhso1_500.gif)</div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> The Loner | 17 | Bisexual | Neutral Good | Acedia | Anna Speckhart</span></span></div><br><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Character Sheet</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><br><strong> 1. BASICS</strong></span></span><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size">NAME || Juliet Marie Brooks<br>NICKNAME(S), ORIGIN || Jules, self-explanatory<br>SEX || Female<br>DATE OF BIRTH || January 23rd<br>PLACE OF BIRTH || Berkshire, England<br>CURRENT ADDRESS || Girl’s Dormitory Bed #5, Gryffindor Tower<br>NATIONALITY || English<br>ETHNICITY || Caucasian; English, French, Welsh<br>SEXUALITY || Bisexual<br>TRAITS ||&nbsp; <br>Positive: Loyal, intelligent, forgiving, patient, honest, compassionate, determined <br>Neutral: Contemplative, introverted, enigmatic, cooperative, sharp-tongued<br>Negative: Untrusting, outwardly apathetic, stubborn, impulsive, vulnerable<br>OCCUPATION || Student<br>ARCHETYPE || The Loner<br>ALIGNMENT || Neutral Good<br>SIN || Acedia<br>STAR SIGN || Aquarius; Rowan - The Thinker<br>HOUSE || Gryffindor<br>AMORTENTIA || Chocolate, pine trees, a crackling fire<br>BOGGART || Her father<br>PATRONUS || Sheep - innocent aspect of yourself; your childhood, child-like qualities characterized by innocence, gentleness. Vulnerability with a negative meaning, weakness, vulnerability that could turn into powerlessness. Vulnerability with a positive meaning: Self-acceptance, ability to respect your own limits<br>QUOTE || “Wherever you go, you take yourself with you” - The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman<br>SONG || The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot by Brand New (rather than a breakup song, I picture this as a conversation between her current self and her past self in the alternating verses)<br>SECRET || Her abuse of sleeping potions is not a well-kept secret. However, the scar on her chest is a story yet to be told. Only her mother, father, and the whole of the Wizengamot truly know how it got there. The rest are just rumors.<br>GOAL || Start a new life someday, maybe. <br>LANGUAGES || English, French and a little bit of elementary Gobbledegook<br>FACE CLAIM || Anna Speckhart<br>OPEN || She’s a vegetarian!<br><br><strong>2. PHYSICAL</strong><br>BODY TYPE || Slim pear<br>HEIGHT || 5’6’’<br>WEIGHT || 113lbs <br>HAIR || Long, straight, dark brown, never styled<br>EYES || Bright blue-green<br>BIRTHMARKS || None, but she has several freckles across her nose and cheeks<br>DISFIGUREMENTS || None<br>SCARS || A thin white scar down the middle of her chest that starts just below her collarbone and ends just above her stomach; several small nicks and scars on her knees from quidditch and general roughhousing<br>PIERCINGS || Ears, first hole<br>TATTOOS || None<br>ACCENT || Proper English accent<br>HOW DO THEY DRESS || When not in uniform Juliet alternates between more revealing items and big, loose fitting garments. Short skirts, sweaters, ripped jeans, leggings, flannel and cropped tops are all within her usual rotation. She wears boots and booties almost year-round with thick, warm socks because her feet are always cold. <br>WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO SLEEP || Pajama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt in the colder months, shorts and a t-shirt in the warmer months<br>DO THEY WEAR JEWELRY || She has two diamond stud earrings that she never takes out<br>WHAT WOULD THEY CHANGE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE || That stupid scar<br>WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE || Lavender, lemongrass shampoo and a slight hint of men’s aftershave<br>ACCURATE MENTAL PICTURE? || She’s not very self-aware<br><br><br><strong>3. PERSONALITY</strong><br>QUIRK || spaces out and stares into the distance for long periods of time, sometimes even in the middle of conversation; always has a chocolate frog in her pocket or schoolbag; absentmindedly taps fingers on surfaces as if she is playing the piano; snatches at candle flames when they are within reach<br><br>HABITS || never lets the foods on her plate mix/touch; drinks sleeping potion recreationally; picks at her nail polish; leaves in the middle of classes without being excused; speaks in a very soft voice; sleeps with her head under the pillow; twists the ends of her hair when she is bored; bites the inside of her cheek when she is upset<br><br>LIKES || Chocolate, she has a massive sweet tooth; quidditch; people who can sit in comfortable silence; playing the piano; being on top; fuzzy socks; napping instead of going to class; tracing things with her finger over and over again; snowstorms; the thrill of competition; mashed potatoes; the time of day right after sunset when the sun is gone but it's still light out so there are no stars and the sky is totally blank; sitting by the fireplace; witty back-and-forth banter; people who show that they care instead of just saying that they do; homemade gifts; the quiet walk home after a long night out<br><br>DISLIKES || Being called on in class when she didn’t raise her hand; cuckoo clocks; socializing with large groups; being told what to do;&nbsp; the smell of cigars; talking about her feelings; being touched unexpectedly; itchy fabrics; dementors; the way her hands shake when she’s experiencing withdrawal from sleeping potions; being called Julie; when people stare at her scar; olives; being asked stupid questions; speaking without having anything to say; coffee and tea; sleeping with the door open; when adults talk about their children as if they aren’t in the same room; crying in front of people; theoretical learning; firewhiskey<br><br>SELF-PERCEPTION || Juliet once had a very clear idea of who she was: a rambunctious young girl with lots of ideas swimming in her head; at times a strain on her mother’s patience, but generally kindhearted and a fierce friend. (Not to mention, she was quite proud of her abilities on the quidditch pitch). Now, that girl feels like an imaginary friend long forgotten. Juliet often wonders if she ever truly knew her at all. Instead, she finds herself akin to a ghost. Not truly present, an observer of the living around her. She possesses little insight about herself other than that she is not who she used to be. She knows that she is a disappointment to her mother, she knows that she is worrying her friends, she knows that she is hurting herself but she just can’t seem to help it. Sleeping potions help to dull her senses, her thoughts and, most importantly, her dreams so that she can drift through life apathetic and untouched. <br><br>OTHERS’ PERCEPTION || There was a time when many would hear the name Juliet Brooks and smile. Some, perhaps, would be wracked with jealousy, while others may even find her feisty nature abrasive at best. Now, the Brooks name evokes little more than furtive glances and whispered rumors. Her destructive behaviors only exacerbated their curiosity. Many pity her, but few understand her. <br><br>WEAKNESSES || Apologies, she’ll forgive almost anyone even if they don’t deserve it; neck kisses; internalizing her problems/feelings; sleeping potions; learning theory rather than practice; confrontation when it matters<br><br>STRENGTHS || Independent and honest, almost to a fault; loyalty; perseverance; excellent at hands-on subjects like Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts<br><br>ASPIRATIONS || She won’t admit it to herself, but she would still quite like to become a Healer one day<br><br>FEARS || drowning; her father; that she won’t ever feel normal again<br><br>WHAT MAKES HIM/HER IRRATIONALLY ANGRY || when someone insults her friends; being asked intrusive questions by strangers<br><br>WHAT MAKES HIM/HER CRY || feeling helpless; when her pets die or friends get hurt (*coughRowancough*)<br><br>WAYS TO CHEER UP THIS PERSON || Chocolate!!!; crack jokes; let her completely ignore what is bothering her; give her a handmade card<br><br>WAYS TO ANNOY THIS PERSON || ask too many questions; get too touchy-feely; tell her what to do; spread gossip about other people; stare at her scar<br><br><br><strong>4. HISTORY</strong><br><br><strong>I.</strong><br>Juliet Brooks was raised to be a proper young lady. Or, at least, that was her mother’s attempt. From the moment she spoke her first word Juliet was a handful. Her energy kept her bouncing about the house, quite often literally thanks to her early penchant for magical mishaps. She rarely managed to sit still for long, especially when grown ups were talking about things that were oh-so-boring! On her days romping around outside with her fellow young witches and wizards, Juliet ripped many a party dress and got in more than her fair share of playground fights. However, after much scolding and the occasional time-outs, she managed to find a balance between obedience and adventure. <br><br>Her father, who often spent many months of the year traveling on Gringotts business,&nbsp; showered her with gifts galore as a child so that Juliet was never left to want for anything. Exotic trinkets from South America, silk night gowns from France and sparkly jewels from the depths of Egypt all found their way into the Brooks household. Her most prized possession, however, was her toy broomstick, which she whirled and whizzed around on whenever the opportunity arose. <br><br>One day, she pushed the toy to its limits and found herself falling from fifteen feet in the air. Her mother was nowhere to be found on the grounds so Juliet, broken clavicle and all, pushed herself off of the ground, picked up her toy broomstick, and made her way inside. Adalyn Brooks was never a master of healing spells. Instead, she pulled out the floo powder, huffing about the interruption to her afternoon tea, and took Juliet on her first visit to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It was here that Juliet first realized she wanted to be a Healer. <br><br>The aged old wizard who fixed her up was friendly and caring, something she rarely experienced at home with her mother (though her father doted on her, he was rarely around during her most formative years). After waving his wand and sending the girl’s collar bone back into place, the healer completed a muggle trick and pulled a lollipop from behind the ten year old’s ear, making her giggle and forget about the pain she had endured. He had done such a good job, in fact, that the first thing Juliet wanted to do when she got home was hop back on her broomstick. Her mother, sadly, would not allow it, and the Brooks girl was confined to her room for three torturous days. <br><br>A few months later, after fall lent way to winter and the holidays had come and gone, Juliet received the most delightful piece of mail: she would be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in eight short months! The days could not go by fast enough. <br><br>Juliet’s father would come and go in the weeks leading up to her arrival at Hogwarts. He was meant to accompany her to the train station, but once again was whisked away to deal with Goblins and gold. So, Juliet and her mother set off alone. Adalyn Brooks gripped her daughter’s hand just a little too tightly as they apparated into an abandoned stall in the bathroom of King’s Cross. Tugging the girl’s arm, she was clearly in a rush to push through the crowd of muggles unnoticed. <br><br>“Mum, Mum look! There it is!” Juliet bounced on the balls of her feet, pulling her mother to a halt as she pointed at the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10. Adalyn let go of the excitable eleven-year-old’s hand, glaring in her direction as passersby glanced at the brick wall curiously. “Mind yourself, Juliet,” she snapped, checking a dainty gold watch on her dainty wrist. The seconds ticked on and Juliet was almost certain that she would burst with excitement. Luckily, however, her mother finally looked up, giving the girl a brave nod before taking her hand once more and leading her to the Hogwarts Express. <br><br>The train’s take-off was a blur of excitement for the young witch. She introduced herself to any friendly face she came across until, finally, finding an empty compartment to call her own. Although Juliet loved to make new friends, she quite liked being on her own. Her vivid imagination could wander to the farthest reaches of her mind and nobody would snap at her to sit up straight or stop staring into space. Her toes tipped and tapped in an upbeat rhythm as she watched the world fly by. It was only when the trolley came around that she realized her stomach had been rumbling all morning. At the site of chocolate frogs, Juliet lit up. As any eleven-year-old with a sweet tooth would, she dumped a sack of galleons out and took as many as she could manage to scoop into her school bag. It was enough to last her through her first few weeks at Hogwarts, and having the sweets readily available soon became a habit. <br><br>Upon her arrival (finally!) to Hogwarts, Juliet found a home in Gryffindor tower. She prided herself in her house’s daring, nerve, and chivalry, but she did not limit herself to lions and lionesses. Instead, Juliet formed circles of friends all throughout the school, sharing chocolate frog cards during class, sneaking into the broom cupboards, and exploring the castle’s many secrets in their free time. Life was everything that she had hoped for at Hogwarts, and she hated to admit that the thought of returning home for the holidays dampened her spirits quite considerably. <br><br><strong>II.</strong><br>But return home she did. It was a Brooks family tradition to host an extravagant holiday party on Christmas Eve. Juliet mingled and chattered excitedly about what Christmas would bring with her fellow youngsters until they were all too tuckered out to continue. The night raged on, wine flowing freely about the room until “Oh my is it midnight already?!” was followed by a raucous “Merry Christmas!” Juliet, who had nodded off in an armchair near the fire, stirred. She felt a gentle shake of her shoulder and opened her eyes to see Benedict Brooks, rosy cheeked from drink and Christmas cheer, leaning in to whisper “I think it’s time you went to bed, Julie.” <br><br>Juliet nodded and sleepily shuffled her way upstairs. Benedict Brooks followed, but Juliet does not recall him tucking her in. Instead, she awoke Christmas morning much groggier than usual. Rather than run about the house shouting “Christmas! Christmas! Christmas!” the young lioness laid in bed until the sun had fully risen and her mother called her down for breakfast. <br><br>The rest of her holiday was spent with restless nights sleep. She built a half-hearted snowman and cheered a little less than usual when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s. However, her spirits lifted as the prospect of returning to Hogwarts loomed closer. The lioness finished her assignments with a flourish - even the boring ones - and, when her mother was not looking, practiced her wand movements with muttered incantations. <br><br>Juliet’s return to Gryffindor tower offered her the first solid rest in nearly two weeks, and she was grateful. Returning to her chipper self, the young lioness continued to excel at school. By the end of her first year, she had improved her grades significantly, much to her Ravenclaw mother’s pleasure. Even her father was proud, gifting her with her very own broomstick when she returned for the summer. The little lioness took to the sky from dusk until dawn, only coming down when her mother absolutely insisted she join everyone for tea. <br><br>Mr. Brooks was spending more and more time at home, now. He used the Floo Network to join local meetings, he was a consistent presence for weeks on end, which was a rather new experience for Adalyn and Juliet. Not that either complained, of course. He needed to spend more time with the family, he would tell them. Juliet’s absence that past year had made him realize how quickly his little girl was growing up. <br><br>Presumably wanting to make up for lost time, Benedict took to tucking Juliet in at night. Though she insisted she was much too old for that, the cold flash of anger in his eyes was enough to guilt the girl into silence. Adalyn said nothing, and instead took to spending her free time reading or the listening to the radio before turning in for bed herself. <br><br>Juliet began sleeping later and later into the day. Always groggy, never feeling as if she had had enough rest, the young Gryffindor would find herself unable to recall if she had brushed her teeth the night before. Had she even changed into her pajamas? She would look and there, under the covers, was her pale frame clad in one of her night gowns. Curious.<br><br><strong>III.</strong><br>By the time her second year’s return to Hogwarts came around, Juliet was the same cheerful, albeit more forgetful, girl who had left the castle two months previously. Her endless training on her new broom had proved promising, according to the 6th year captain. Juliet joined the ranks of Gryffindor’s quidditch team as a back-up chaser. Admittedly, the idea of second-string left a bad taste in the girl’s mouth, but not for long. Two matches into the quidditch season, Gryffindor’s star chaser suffered a serious bludger to the head. He spent weeks in recovery, and in that time Juliet had helped to score over 100 points at their following game. She was welcomed to the team with open arms, and Tanner Hill conceded defeat, afraid that another concussion might cause him to miss even more N.E.W.T material. <br><br>When December rolled around, Juliet was one of the first to add her name to the list of students who would be remaining at Hogwarts. She wrote to her parents with a polite yet firm explanation - she needed the break to practice quidditch and get caught up on her studies! And so, the Brooks annual Christmas Eve party went on without her. Instead, Juliet spent her evening eating chocolate frogs by the crackling fire of the empty common room, and she was perfectly content with that. <br><br>With the quidditch pitch practically all to herself over the holidays, Juliet managed to play on the brightest and snowiest of days. By the time the second term started up again, she was prepared for anything. <br><br>Most of her grades slipped ever so slightly by the year’s end; it was not easy keeping up with quidditch and her studies all at once! But her potions and herbology grades continued to soar. The lioness was thrilled to sign up for Care of Magical Creatures for the following year,&nbsp; accompanied by whatever other classes piqued her interests. By the end of term feast, she already could not wait to return. <br><br>Summer saw a droop in Juliet’s spirits. Her only joy came when she had finally convinced her mother, who insisted that all animals were filthy creatures who had no place in a home, to let her get two pet rats of her own. Flora and Fauna were two brilliantly magical dumbo rats that Juliet cherished like no other. She doted on them and spent much of her time teaching them tricks or watching them run aimlessly on their wheel. Aside from that, the lioness continued to busy herself with flying during the days, but her nights were becoming more and more unsettling. Mr. Brooks agreed that Juliet was much too old to be tucked in anymore, which brought a curious sense of relief to the young girl. Instead, however, Juliet dreamt of visitors in the night and shadowy figures sitting on the edge of her twin sized bed. These dreams took a toll on her by the beginning of her third year, and she often found herself wandering the castle at night instead of sleeping. <br><br>When she began to nod off during her more boring subjects - History of Magic was becoming a regular naptime - Juliet realized that she should seek a solution. When the winter holidays arrived once more, Juliet decided to go home. Although she loathed to leave the castle, she convinced herself it would be a pleasant vacation from Hogwarts’ stone walls. It was only when she arrived at King’s Cross station that her mother revealed that Benedict was going to be away for the whole of the holidays on business, and Juliet breathed a soft sigh of relief that Adalyn either did not hear or refused to acknowledge.<br><br>Shortly after Christmas, Juliet plucked up the courage to speak with her.<br><br>“Mum… I-I’ve been having bad dreams.”<br><br>“Dreams?” Adalyn muttered absently, eyes pointed downward to a piece of parchment on the kitchen table. <br><br>“Yeah. I can’t sleep,” Juliet replied, raising her voice a little to get her mother’s attention.<br><br>Adalyn rubbed the bridge of her nose before looking up with a sigh. “Well, what shall I do about it? Do you want me to make you warm milk tonight?” <br><br>Juliet bit the inside of her cheek, twisting the tip of her shoe into the tile flooring. “N-no. I think I’d like to see a Healer…” she shot a glance up at her mother, who was staring back with a curious expression that quickly turned to exasperation. “You want me to take you all the way to Mungo’s?” Adalyn looked at her watch. “I suppose if we leave now…” she pushed her chair back, flicking her wand to summon a large fur coat. “Honestly, bad dreams,” she muttered, locating her purse. <br><br>The St. Mungo’s staff was pushed to their limits with holiday disasters. Cursed Christmas crackers, turkey carving spells gone horribly wrong, and the occasional splinch from holiday travel were running the Healers ragged. It was lucky, however, that one young witch could make the time to see them.<br><br>Juliet sat in an uncomfortable arm chair in an office bustling with people, pulling out files and cross checking the latest magical malady. Adalyn stood in the corner, watching disapprovingly as her daughter explained that she was unable to sleep at night. She did not go into detail regarding what the dreams were about, and the young Healer did not ask. A crowd of partygoers had just entered the waiting room, tongues all swollen from a swelling solution that had been slipped into the punch as a prank. They needed all hands on deck. <br><br>“Well, Juliet, why don’t you take this,” she hurriedly ripped a strip of parchment from her clipboard and tapped it with her wand. A signature scrawled across the bottom of the page in loopy, gold lettering. “It’s a prescription for a draught of dreamless sleep. That should help in a pinch” she said, offering a small smile to Adalyn as she rushed past. Before she left to tend to the dozens of waiting room patients, the Healer turned back to look at the lioness. “But I want you to try and get to the root of those bad dreams, dear. I expect to see you back here bright eyed and bushy tailed when you are ready for a check in.” She had a kind twinkle in her eye that disappeared as she rounded the office door into the waiting room.<br><br><strong>IV.</strong><br>Juliet slept soundly for the first time in months that night. The purple potion that was prescribed joined her on her journey back to Hogwarts, and her mother would send an owl with a new vial as needed. Once more, Juliet’s grades rose, and her quidditch game became stronger than ever. She was so well rested, in fact, that she took to spending time in the music room when she was not too tuckered out from practice. There were instruments galore at her disposal, but Juliet was drawn to the piano. She had a baby grand sitting in the family room at home, but was never allowed to play it. It started as a silly hobby, smashing keys when she took a particularly frustrating test or tickling the high pitched ones when she was in a good mood. Soon, however, she began to play along to her favorite songs; her fingers found the notes clumsily at first, but when she finally found her rhythm it made for a beautiful melody. <br><br>Her newfound talent did not go unnoticed by Hogwart’s orchestra instructor. Before she knew it, Juliet was adding a third responsibility to her plate. This kept her busier than ever, but she loved it. Days of classes followed by hours of quidditch and evenings dedicated to piano practice led to a very content lioness. By the year’s end, she was joyously invested in a variety of activities, and positively miserable to leave them behind for two whole months. <br><br>Her misery, it seemed, was quite warranted that summer leading up to her fourth year. Aside from busying herself with studying and quidditch, Juliet was forced to attend quite a few business and pureblood events alongside her well-connected parents. One event in particular was a pureblood luncheon, held at the Brooks manor to celebrate a newly elected Minister who promised to restore greatness to the wizarding community. Whatever that meant. Juliet could not stand the endless drawl of the adults. Talking politics never interested her, so instead she enjoyed the company of another young pureblood girl, Patricia Ridgewell. Juliet knew the Ridgewells quite well, as she was rather close to the eldest child, Vincent. But he was nowhere to be found as the lioness discussed quidditch with the incoming second year. It was quite curious. <br><br>She soon found out where her classmates had been, however. Vincent and Rowan, his cousin, had snuck away from the luncheon and up to Juliet’s room. Normally, she would not have minded this invasion of privacy. However, when Patricia lead the Gryffindor girl up to her room she found the two boys doing much worse than going through her personal items. There, in Rowan’s hands, was his pet snake Beth. Juliet had never minded the garter snake before, but dangling above the snake in Rowan’s other hand was Fauna, her beloved pet rat. Juliet did not find the situation funny at all, though Vincent and Rowan cackled as her surprised face shifted quickly to anger. Then, just as her voice was rising to put an end to their nonsense there was a sudden strike. Beth’s fangs were small, but they were certainly effective. Fauna’s terrified squeaks were put to an end and the snake coiled around its prey as everyone else in the room watched on in stunned silence. Tears welled in Juliet’s eyes until it was over, and she was finally able to signal to her body to start moving. Blinking them away, the lioness kicked the boys out at once, slamming the door behind her before she went to tend to her remaining pet. She never truly forgave Rowan for his betrayal. Even Vincent, with whom she got along much better, was largely ignored by her that summer. It was only when he surprised the lioness with a new rat, collar and all, that she accepted that he was truly sorry for what they had done, even if he did not say the words aloud. <br><br><strong>V.</strong><br>The draught of dreamless sleep continued to serve the lioness well as she entered her fourth year. However, with age came even more activities for the Gryffindor girl to take on. Juliet had witnessed her fair share of parties in her earlier years, but now she and her friends were invited to join 5th, 6th and 7th years on their nightly escapades. Drinking in empty classrooms, parties in the Gryffindor common room and general tomfoolery throughout the castle introduced the lioness to a more rebellious lifestyle than she was used to. She found drinking to be a sufficient substitute for her draught of dreamless sleep, though she would wake up with that familiar groggy feeling. Juliet also found that she was getting more and more attention from the boys in her wide circle of friends, and she didn’t mind that one bit. <br><br>One Hufflepuff sixth year in particular took to whispering sweet nothings in the lioness’s ear, always smiling when she giggled and playfully pushed him away. Until the night that she didn’t push him away. The two were rather intoxicated, wandering the halls of Hogwarts until Juliet pulled him into the abandoned teacher’s lounge. <br><br>She did not see much of the badger after that, but his attention was replaced with gaggles of other boys who offered her sweet words and refilled drinks at each passing opportunity. The partying and other ‘activities’ caused Juliet’s grades to waver once more, but she managed to buckle down and emerge from her end-of-year exams with flying colors, and a quidditch cup to boot. After all, she would have OWLs to worry about next year! It would do no good letting her grades slip now.<br><br><strong>VI.</strong><br>Her return to the Brooks manor that summer was lost in a whirlwind of activity. Her mother was busier than ever helping to plan banquets and fundraisers for the most promising pureblood ministry officials. Her father, however, continued to do as much work as he could from home. That summer, he was far more on edge than usual, citing difficult trade dealings abroad to be the source of his stress. <br><br>One day, Juliet delivered tea to his study and began to ask him about dinner plans when-<br><br>“Shh, Julie. I’m almost done...”<br><br>Juliet stepped back, then froze. She stared at her father for what felt like hours until he looked up, realizing that she was still there. “What is it?” he asked, his voice irritable. Juliet continued to stare. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. <br><br>“Nothing,” she replied, finally dropping her gaze. <br><br>Juliet exited the study with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.<br><br>That night, the lioness did not come down for dinner. She took the draught of dreamless sleep before the sun even set, falling into a deep slumber that would turn her thoughts off until morning. <br><br>The following day, Juliet’s mother was fretting over flower arrangements for an upcoming banquet. Benedict Brooks sat in the corner of the family room, lazily reading the Daily Prophet as a teapot whistled in the distance. Juliet stood in the doorway, her mother’s chattering voice dulled from a haze that Juliet could not quite explain. <br><br>“They’re not just dreams, are they?”<br><br>Benedict Brooks looked up, as did Adalyn. However, their facial expressions were quite different. Her mother’s was one of confusion, slightly irritated at the interruption, while her father’s was blank and cold. “What dreams, Juliet?” he asked lightly, eyes roving back to his newspaper. <br><br>The lioness looked to her mother, steeling herself for the words that came next. “I’ve been having dreams… of someone coming into my room at night. I think they might be-”<br><br>“Well, that’s quite the nightmare,” her father interjected, causing her speech to falter. “Are you sure it’s not a side effect of those sleeping potions? I told your mother, I don’t fancy the thought of you all drugged up. It may be time to put an end to it.”<br><br>Adalyn’s eyes narrowed as she looked from her daughter to her husband as if contemplating something. Finally, she nodded, reaching out to fluff the sample bouquet that sat before her on the coffee table. “He may be right, dear. Those potions aren’t meant to be used long-term,” she stood up, smoothing out the skirt of her perfectly tailored wrap dress. “Why don’t you go up to bed and have a proper nap?” she suggested. “I’ll bring you up some lunch when you’re ready.”<br><br>Juliet did not realize her hands were shaking until they reached for the doorknob of her bedroom. Closing it carefully behind her, the lioness pulled out her wand and locked it before crawling into bed once more. Without the help of sleeping potions or gin to soothe her head, Juliet drifted off to sleep once more. Adalyn Brooks did not bother to wake her slumbering child for lunch or even dinner afterwards. She and Benedict agreed that the rest would be good for her. If they were lucky, she would sleep through the night. Still, Adalyn watched her husband out of the corner of her eye all evening until he retired to his study to do some last minute paperwork. <br><br>Juliet awoke to the click of a lock. Her door creaked open and light from the hallway spilled in, illuminating her bedroom just slightly. Benedict Brooks stepped forward as she scrambled to sit up. No no no no no no. “What’re you-?” He pressed a hand against the Gryffindor girl’s mouth, pushing her back onto the bed before placing the end of his wand against her temple. Juliet scratched at his forearm, kicking and whimpering as she tried to push him away. Something glistened at the tip of his wand, a silvery glow that she caught out of the corner of her eye. A distant voice in her head shouted not again, not again, not again. Then, she found a voice of her own. Biting into her father’s finger and causing him to withdraw his hand, the lioness cried for help. <br><br>This was not normal, but it was all too familiar.<br><br>Suddenly, Juliet felt something sharp and cold pressed against her throat. Benedict had always been a collector of strange artifacts, mostly acquired from his travels for Gringotts. This one was a particularly interesting item. A curved dagger with a jewel encrusted handle. Juliet had seen it sitting on the desk in his study many times. “If you say one more word I will cut you open,” her father growled, wand still working against her temple. Stricken with fear, Juliet could do nothing but nod. “Now, let’s see if we can’t get rid of these bad dreams.”<br><br>The lioness felt her mind easing up, though her heart continued to race. She had called for help already. Where was her mother? Where was… The long, silver strand grew and grew in length, yet it seemed to resist at every turn. Benedict Brooks sat over his daughter, knife in hand and clearly frustrated. Why won’t this damned thing come out? Juliet knew this would be her last chance. Pushing her father’s arm away, she jumped up, knocking his wand away and running for the door. “MUM! MUM, PLEASE!”<br><br>Benedict grabbed Juliet from behind and she felt a strange pressure above her stomach. The man drew his dagger upwards and it was then that Juliet realized that it was slashing through her skin. She barely had time to feel anything, or catch site of the blood that now poured from her chest because a streak of red light flew past, hitting her father directly in the face. He collapsed, and so did she. Juliet’s vision blurred, but out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother. She would be so mad about the blood stained carpet. The lioness attempted to speak. She would clean it up. She was sorry. She didn’t mean it. She would- “Shh, shhh” Adalyn soothed the lioness, wand quivering over the length of the wound. Juliet drifted off to sleep as her mother began to whisper “Vulnera Sanentur.” <br><br><strong>VII.</strong><br>Juliet Brooks awoke in St. Mungo’s Spell Damage ward three days later. <br><br>She was poked and prodded by Healers who came and went, applying essence of dittany and administering a nightly sleeping potion throughout her stay. Most days were spent sitting in silence. At times, Adalyn was by her side, stone faced and thin lipped. Other times, Juliet was on her own, left to count the ceiling tiles and wonder about the ministry officials that lurked outside in the corridor.<br><br>The lioness asked no questions despite the constant bustle and murmur of activity around her. In fact, Juliet did not speak at all. Inquiries of “how are you feeling?” were met with a blank stare, and her mother had little to contribute to the conversation. Then, one day, there was a knock on her door.<br><br>“Mrs. Brooks?”<br><br>Adalyn rose from Juliet’s bedside to shake hands with the plump old witch in the doorway. The witch offered Juliet a warm smile as she settled herself into a chair beside her bed. “Hello, Juliet. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?”<br><br>The next hour was a flurry of uncomfortable silences. Occasionally, Juliet would respond with a shrug or a shake of her head. She didn't remember. She didn't know. She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to know. Adalyn filled in the gaps of silence with breathy apologies until, eventually, the ministry witch rose from her seat.<br><br>“Thank you for your time, Miss Brooks,” she said, offering a hand that Juliet did not take. “I hope you will let me speak with you again soon.”<br><br>Juliet merely shrugged, wrapping a loose thread from the blanket around her index finger.<br><br>On her final day at St. Mungo’s, Juliet was more than ready to see a world beyond the four walls she had been confined to. Her mother spoke very little as she signed the lioness out, and it was only when they returned home and Juliet stepped over the threshold of the fireplace that she looked at her daughter. <br><br>“We are due to the Wizengamot early tomorrow morning. I’ll lay out your clothes for you.”<br><br><strong>VIII.</strong><br>The Wizengamot trial went on for what seemed like ages. This was, in part, due to Juliet’s refusal to speak a single word. Countless lawyers, witches and warlocks attempted to pry into the young girl’s psyche, asking her to recount the horrid dreams that now crept up in the form of memories more clearly than ever, but her lips remained sealed. A few Wizengamot members suggested that the lioness was disturbed beyond repair. It was beginning to seem as if the truth about Benedict Brooks would never fully come out. <br><br>That is, until they raided his study. An auror-in-training located the vial first. Their high-pitched excitement at having succeeded rang throughout the cold, empty house loud enough for the lioness to hear. She and her mother, who had sat in the family room out of everyone’s way, rose and made their way to Benedict’s lair. Something glinted in the candlelight of the study, and Juliet saw in the auror’s hand a rather large vial that was swimming with a curious, silvery substance. <br><br>Juliet did not know why her mother collapsed into tears at that moment. She did not know or understand what the vial contained, but her mother did. Adalyn had hardly shown much emotion going forward through this whole process, but the sight of her daughter’s memories, ripped from her like so much else her husband had taken, was the breaking point. <br><br>The evidence was undeniable after that discovery. The trial proceeded without caution or concern. It was widely agreed among those in the know that Benedict Brooks must be locked up for good, immediately. Their hope was to have him returned to Azkaban before the summer’s end. With no time to grieve, Juliet was put on trial, asked to relive those same memories with fifty others following her to that dark, cold bedroom. She spoke, but only on command, answering prying questions and recounting the most devastating details in monotone whispers.<br><br>Benedict Brooks was locked away for much of Juliet’s testimony. She answered their inquiries and recounted her tail time and time again until it seemed like the story was not even her own anymore. Until it was just a fairy tale that had been passed on from mouth to ear over many countless years. Until, finally, a decision was ready to be made. <br><br>On that day, a chill fell over the Wizengamot, and even the halls of the Ministry itself. Juliet and her mother made their way through the visitor’s entrance as they had done so many times before, but the lioness paused at the courtroom doors. She felt a merciless cold sweep over her as she looked in. There, in a chair snaked with chains, sat her father, accompanied by two large, cloaked figures. He looked pale and unkempt, so unlike his usual self. Juliet almost pitied him as she and her mother tiptoed by, shivering in time with the rattling breaths of the dementors.<br><br>It was a unanimous decision to put Mr. Brooks away for life, and he went limp at the news. Juliet watched as he was escorted out by his arms, feet dragging noisily against the stone floor as the dementors carried their newest prisoner away. There was a satisfied, yet pointed moment of silence as the door slammed shut behind him.<br><br>Several members of the court shuffled over to shake Adalyn and Juliet’s hands. She met their condolences and tight lipped smiles with a glazed stare. Was she supposed to feel happy now? It certainly seemed that way. But she didn’t feel happy or relieved or even sad, really. She just felt empty.<br><br>“Will she be returning to school for her fifth year?” One witch muttered to her mother, as if Juliet were not there to answer for herself.<br><br>“Oh, we haven't decided-” her mother began evasively. But Juliet cut her off, speaking more confidently and steadily than she had all summer. “I have to go back,” she said. “I have to.” <br><br>It was then that she realized tomorrow was September first.<br><br><strong>IX.</strong><br>When Juliet returned home that evening she went right upstairs to pack her trunk. She could not stay there, in that house with those memories for months or weeks or years. She needed to return to Gryffindor tower, despite her mother’s protests. She needed the warmth of the common room fire and the smell of pumpkin juice in the Great Hall and the sound of laughter trilling throughout the courtyard. She needed to find something, anything that made her feel whole again, and Hogwarts was her only hope. <br><br>Juliet and her mother woke bright and early the next morning to catch the Hogwarts Express. In actuality, Juliet had not fallen asleep at all, and instead watched out her window until the sun rose to indicate she could begin getting ready. Adalyn, who still had her doubts about the lioness’s return, found even more reason to suggest that Juliet take a few weeks off when an owl rapped at their window. In its beak was the latest copy of the Daily Prophet, and on the front page, in the lower righthand corner, was her father’s face. The headline read: Prominent Pureblood Sentenced To Life In Azkaban. She did not read any further. <br><br>Juliet was resolute, unswayed by her mother’s words. She tended to her pet rats, poking strips of celery through the bars of their cage, not touching any breakfast herself, while her mother constructed an angry letter to the Prophet’s editor. When Adalyn signed that with a flourish, the clock had just about struck ten. <br><br>Their arrival at King’s Cross station was stealthy as always, but not for long. When the two Brooks women crossed the threshold of Platform 9 ¾ eyes followed from every direction. Adalyn was much more bothered by the fact than her daughter, who’s feet shuffled lazily to the nearest car entrance. She climbed into the train without a word and her mother, unable to stand the starring, disappeared with a pop before the train even took off.<br><br>Juliet found herself an empty compartment once more, but instead of staring out the window with excitement for the year to come, the lioness curled into a corner drifted off to sleep. She awoke only to the faint tinkling of the trolley cart as the attending witch opened her door. “Anything off the trolley, dear?” Juliet stared through heavy lids and, upon processing the question after a sleepy moment of contemplation, shook her head. The trolley cart witch, however, was already holding out a chocolate frog. Juliet took it, other hand fumbling for her change purse, but the witch merely smiled and shook her head before gently shutting the compartment door and continuing on her journey down the corridor. <br><br>Her return to Hogwarts was plagued with whispers as she passed now. Eyes followed her from class to class, and pitying smiles from her professors formed knots in the pit of her stomach. A dreamless sleep was her only escape, and it never seemed as if the nights were long enough. <br><br>Juliet made half-hearted efforts to continue on with life as if nothing had happened. She attended orchestra practice, much to the surprise of her fellow musicians, but her fingers didn’t flow the same way anymore. Perhaps it was all in her head. When quidditch try-outs rolled around, Juliet was the first one on the pitch. Her fellow lions and lionesses cast her anxious glances. Old teammates and friends watched carefully as she took to the air, diving and swerving recklessly to make each shot. But it wasn’t enough. Juliet stopped showing up for orchestra practice and no one questioned her. The head of Gryffindor house pulled the lioness aside, saying that they would understand if she needed time, if she wanted to take this quidditch season off. There would always be a spot for her next year. So she quit that, too, with no plans of ever returning.<br><br>The last dying hope Hogwarts had left was classes, and even those could not distract Juliet from herself. Her nights of dreamless sleep were all that she could handle and so the lioness continued to sleep later and later into the day. Skipping classes for just a few more hours rest, missing meals for just a few more moments to silence her own thoughts. Professors soon expressed their concern, and the threat of being sent back home for the rest of term loomed over her. She would have to find another way.<br><br><strong>X.</strong><br>It was not long before Juliet began to experiment with her draught of dreamless sleep. It seemed logical that the potion that provided her with a sense of relief in the evenings could do so during the day. She just had to find the right amount. Over the next few weeks, Juliet dozed off in many classes as she put her sleeping potion to the test. One particularly strong dosage sent her to sleep in the middle of a Herbology lesson. Neither students nor the professor noticed this until Devil’s Snare had snuck out of a nearby cabinet and began to bind and strangle the snoozing lioness. The ruckus that followed managed to wake her just enough so that she could claim to be lightheaded and stumble her way into the castle for a proper nap.<br><br>Eventually, however, she found her limit. Days passed in a haze as Juliet drifted through them seemingly awake. Her grades continued to drop, but either pity or hope kept professors from truly addressing the issue. Instead, Juliet was allowed all of the freedom and agency she needed to begin healing. But rather than heal, her behavior simply became more reckless. <br><br>Rather than take the draught of dreamless sleep as intended, Juliet would attend parties where she could easily lose herself in other substances or even other people, leaving the potion for day-time use when alternative escapes were unavailable. On the nights where she could not find solace in anything or anyone else, Juliet would take late night walks on the grounds until the sun rose. The dark circles under her eyes deepened considerably by summertime.<br><br>It was a wonder to many how Juliet managed to pass her OWLs. Her mother, who was determined to go about life as if everything were fine, was startled by the list of Acceptables. Even Juliet herself was surprised with the results. She had slept through her entire History of Magic essay, botched her practical Transfiguration exam and barely finished her written Charms OWL on time. Still, she had scraped through with four years of previous knowledge that had not quite left her head and, of course, the mercy of her exam proctors. <br><br>The summer leading up to her sixth year was one of many late nights. Adalyn busied herself with housework and renovations. The carpet in the old study was just dreadful. The whole room had to go! Hired house elves worked their fingers to the bone, scrubbing and painting and decluttering on Adalyn’s command as her daughter drifted about the house in a daze. They rarely spoke.<br><br>Juliet soon perfected the art of sneaking out in the evenings. Anything to get away from that house. She sped off on her broom most nights, ignoring the way the cold air whipped at her watering eyes as she flew to secret hideaways. She often found herself wandering the streets of muggle cities, balancing along the sidewalk edge as late night commuters passed by. Meanwhile, her mother ignored her empty bed, but always had breakfast ready in the morning for her return.<br><br>By her sixth year, Juliet was quite accustomed to doing what she wanted. Skipping classes and breaking curfew were part of her usual routine. However, her rule-breaking escalated as time went on, particularly due to her sleeping potions habit. The prescription vials proved not to be enough for the lioness’s needs. Unable to sleep at night or face the day without it, Juliet was forced to begin brewing her own sleeping potions. Rather than focus on her N.E.W.T courses, the lioness would find ways to sneak into the dungeons and break into potion cabinets in her free time. However, she soon began experimenting with more powerful sleeping potions. There was rarely a time when Juliet was not under the influence of some special sleeping brew. The relief they provided was her only source of comfort, but she always needed something stronger. Something to put an end to this. Something to keep her from ever having to wake up again. <br><br>Juliet’s first attempt at the draught of living death was disastrous in its own right. The lioness nearly blew up her cauldron one late night in the dungeons. However, her second attempt was much more successful. Though she knew that the potion was dangerous, Juliet did not really care. She would do anything to enjoy the endless that this draught provided. She had reached her breaking point. Only a few weeks before Christmas break began, Juliet fell into that death-like slumber she so badly craved. She was found in Gryffindor tower seemingly lifeless and the whole school buzzed with the news. <br><br>It was lucky that the lioness was rather adept at potions, as a poorly done draught of living death would surely end the drinker’s life. Instead, Juliet merely resembled a corpse. She laid in the hospital wing for ten days, blissfully unaware of any hurt she had caused. When she awoke, she found herself being much more carefully watched by the professors and administrators of Hogwarts. No longer could she get away with destroying herself before their very eyes. If she had any hope of moving on to her seventh year, she would have to work for it.<br><br>Months of frantic studying brought the lioness’s grades back up just enough for her to move on in her N.E.W.T courses, largely thanks to Vincent Ridgewell. In the wake of her downfall she found success. They were baby steps, sure, but she was still moving forward. <br><br>When summer rolled around, Juliet returned home for what she could only hope would be the last time. Still racked with unwelcome memories, Juliet continued to find any way out of her own head. She spent less and less time at home, though now she was berated with questions from her mother at every turn. This led to many rows and plenty of harsh words, and Juliet was glad to escape the Brooks household on September first once more. Now, Juliet has foregone the sleeping potions, attempting to reclaim parts of herself that she had lost over the years. She would try harder, she would do better, she would find some way, any way to heal in time.</span></span></div></div></div></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Warning || OOC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>whimsy</strong> on <strong>24-01-2017, 21:06:17</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>whimsy's characters</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>well, the ones that are involved in this story, anyway</em></span><br><br><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size">☯</span><br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>THE BRAINCHILDREN</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">I) Morgainne de Loc , the Healer with the Sticky Fingers</span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">II) Vincent Ridgewell, the Lover without a Cause</span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">III) Caoimhe Uisce, the Creature with a Vengeance</span><br><br><br>(http://www.heavenlyacrespetrescue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/page-break.png)</span></div><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>I. MORGAINNE DE LOC</strong></span><br>(http://cdn2-www.craveonline.com/assets/uploads/2013/01/file_203889_0_Magic_Magic_Juno_Temple_Credit_Andres_Gachon.jpg)<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>| | 26; March 20, 1991 | | F | | Pansexual | | Pureblood | | Herbology professor at Hogwarts | | Hufflepuff Alumni | | Lust | | Chaotic Good | | Juno Temple | | </em></span></span><br><br></span><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">coming soon</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><strong>1. BASICS</strong><br>NAME || Morgainne Guenièvre de Loc.<br>NICKNAME(S), ORIGIN || Scarlette Dawson, alias while in Vegas.<br>GENDER || Female. <br>DATE OF BIRTH || March 20, 1991 (26).<br>PLACE OF BIRTH || Colmar, Alsace, France.<br>CURRENT ADDRESS || Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland. <br>NATIONALITY || French. <br>ETHNICITY || Caucasian. <br>SEXUALITY || Pansexual. <br><br>TRAITS || <br><em>Positive:</em><br>Curious | <em>eager to learn or know</em><br>Self-sufficient | <em>able to supply one’s own or its needs without external assistance</em><br>Compassionate | <em>having or showing compassion</em><br>Patient | <em>bearing provocation, annoyance, misfortune, delay, hardship, pain, etc with fortitude and calm and without complaint or anger.</em><br>Playful | <em>full of play or fun; pleasantly humorous or jesting</em><br>Spontaneous | <em>given to acting upon sudden impulses</em><br><br><em>Neutral:</em><br>Introverted | <em>concerned primarily with her own thoughts and feelings</em><br>Earthy | <em>realistic; practical; direct; robust; unnaffected</em> <br>Maternal | <em>having the qualities befitting a mother</em><br>Sensual | <em>lacking in moral restraints</em><br>Questioning | <em>characterized by or indicating intellectual curiosity</em><br>Uninhibited | <em>not restricted</em><br><br><em>Negative:</em><br>Undisciplined | <em>not having discipline </em><br>Tardy | <em>late; behind time</em><br>Thievish | <em>given to thieving</em><br>Worrisome | <em>inclined to worry</em><br>Messy | <em>characterized by a dirty, untidy, or disordered condition </em><br>Quirky | <em>full of quirks </em><br><br>OCCUPATION || Herbology professor.<br>ARCHETYPE || The Explorer. <br>ALIGNMENT || Chaotic Good. <br>SIN || Lust.<br>HOUSE || Hufflepuff.<br>AMORTENTIA || Freshly crushed chamomile petals; blankets that have been washed and then hung outside to dry in the sunshine; newly dug dirt; old, dead leaves just before winter. <br>BOGGART | A teeny tiny room about to swallow her whole, with the walls shrinking the closer it gets to her. Riddikulus: The walls suddenly popping like hundreds of tiny balloons, expelling coloured confetti and glitter everywhere.<br>PATRONUS || A foal.<br>QUOTE || “Curiouser and curiouser!” - Alice, Alice in Wonderland<br>SONG || SONG<br>SECRET || Born out of wedlock. Thanks to an old family curse that makes it impossible for any de Loc to bear more than one child, Morgainne is the soul saviour of the family name and legacy.&nbsp; <br>LANGUAGES || 7: French, English, Latin, Spanish, British Sign Language, Russian, and Chinese.<br>FACE CLAIM || Juno Temple, actress<br><br><br><strong>2. PHYSICAL<br></strong>BODY TYPE || The lean column. <br>HEIGHT || 5’7”.<br>WEIGHT || 145lbs.<br>HAIR || Hair the colour of straw in the sunlight, all tangled and knotted across her shoulders. <br>EYES || Her eyes are a rich, vivid blue, almost cerulean in certain light (or when she is excited). <br>BIRTHMARKS || Faint strawberry birthmark on her right shoulder blade; skin tag the size of a pinhead behind her left knee. <br>DISFIGUREMENTS || None. <br>SCARS || None. <br>PIERCINGS || Two in both ears, one on top of the other; the top is usually a stud whereas the bottom is usually a dangly earring. <br>TATTOOS || “Learning to fly” under her left breast and a black-and-white alyssum flower (invites energies of new opportunity; enchants with meaning of grace, playfulness, and wonder) between her breasts.<br>ACCENT || Very French, although she does make the effort to speak slowly and more clearly around others who have difficulty understanding her.&nbsp; <br>HOW DO THEY DRESS || Comfortably, yet suited to the occasion. Oriental/classical themes. Enjoys dressing up when occasion calls, but leans more towards quirky than glamorous. Colours vary with her mood: muted for gloomy, tame when content, bright when happy/wants to be happy. Staying in: maxi dress OR ankle-length (or shorter) flowy skirt + fitted t-shirt with short sleeves (nothing long that could get easily tangled) + minimal jewelry (no rings/bracelets). Tea Party: fit ‘n’ flares, of course! <br>WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO SLEEP || She sleeps in the nude, but wears a satin kimono cardigan over top her bra and panties when getting ready for bed. <br>DO THEY WEAR JEWELRY || Very minimally, and never when gardening/doing housework. <br>WHAT WOULD THEY CHANGE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE || Gangly arms makes finding tops with proper sleeves a bit difficult. <br>WHAT DO THEY SMELL LIKE || Fresh-dug earth and flowers in the springtime<br>ACCURATE MENTAL PICTURE? || She always thinks her hair is bigger than it really is.<br><br><br><strong>3. PERSONALITY</strong><br>QUIRK ||&nbsp; Compulsively counts things like ceiling tiles, stairs, and cracks in the sidewalk.<br><br>HABITS || Slides her left index finger against her thumb when she's thinking; always has change in her pocket to give to beggars/homeless/people in need; cannot drink anything with ice in it; slouches; has a weakness for rescuing stray animals; twirls her curls when she's anxious/uncomfortable; her French accent becomes more apparent when she gets upset/angry; sits with one leg knotted behind the other.<br><br>LIKES || Making people feel loved; spending all day in her garden with no one but herself, her cat, and her plants for company; jigsaw puzzles; knitting tiny socks; getting lost in her journals, especially if she spends the day outside taking photos/documenting plants; spending an evening cooking elaborate dinners with friends over bottles of wine; yarn bombing; midnight wanders with her grandfather; swimming in the moonlight; meditation, especially in the morning sunshine; dirt under her feet; discovering new (to her) plants; cloud watching; staying up all night talking and cuddling with someone whose company she enjoys; dipping her hand in buckets of rice/beans/other tiny textures. <br><br>DISLIKES || Closed spaces; technology; being told what to do; seeing her loved ones hurt; people who abuse animals/children; spending too much time inside; her grandmother; having her family name matter more than her other qualities; entitled people; when someone is in possession of a rare/special artifact but they take it for granted/don’t take care of it; complainers who don’t do anything about whatever it is they complain about, yet the complain about it all the time; winter; when people take things too seriously.<br><br>SELF-PERCEPTION || Content walking the world alone, but will never say no to sharing her time with those she loves. <br><br>OTHERS’ PERCEPTION || A delight to be around, although she can get anxious easily when confined in closed spaces for long periods of time, and she has zero concept of time.<br><br>WEAKNESSES || Doesn't understand sports in the slightest; kittens; finds history incredibly dull; often gets lost in her own world, and is therefore terrible at staying in contact with people; chocolate and fruit; suffers from combat paralysis <br><br>STRENGTHS || Herbology, botany, ethnobotany... anything to do with plants, really; keeping calm under pressure; self-confident and self-assured; natural tendency to take care of people. <br><br>ASPIRATIONS || Travelling Herbologist ⊱ If Morgainne could make a decent living wandering from place to place and collecting snippets of plants both odd and fantastical in her journals, she would quit teaching in a heartbeat! <br><br>Wizardarian Aid ⊱ This adventurous little badger picked up a thing or two through her post-Hogwarts travels, and has since wandered the countryside doling out remedies and herbal mixtures to the sick and the dying. However, she has always wanted to travel abroad to other countries that have been severely affected by wizarding wars and help out wherever she can. <br><br>FEARS || The Inferi Curse; Cleithrophobia (the fear of being locked in an enclosed space); the heat death of the universe; the death of her parents, resulting in her being sent back to France to live with her grandmother; dying alone.<br><br>PET PEEVES || People who constantly interrupt others; when people try to dictate how she should send her time; when people leave their tea bags in their tea. <br><br>WHAT MAKES HER IRRATIONALLY ANGRY || Animal mistreatment; when her Nana oversteps her bounds; being lied to over an extended period of time and she doesn’t even have a clue until it’s too late; taking her for granted; breaking her trust<br><br>WHAT MAKES HER CRY || Broken friendships; when she can’t help someone; emotionally-driven piano music; lost causes.<br><br>WAYS TO CHEER UP THIS PERSON || Bake her cookies; cuddles and hugs; take her on a surprise adventure filled with all her favourite things; give her a new plant. <br><br>WAYS TO ANNOY THIS PERSON || Bully someone in her presence; over steep your tea, or even leaving the teabag in too long; don’t put back the garden tools; forgetting to water the plants.<br><br>OPEN || Loyal, undisciplined, patient, and the type of girl who would be late to her own wedding, While pleasant and charming, Morgainne detests being trapped indoors, and prefers the company of her cat, Hemero, over most humans; that being said, she will never turn away anyone who should need her, and she loves to help people. She speaks with a soft French accent that is really only noticeable at the very ends of her words, and definitely noticeable when she’s had too much to drink or if she’s very, very emotional.<br><br><br><strong>4. RELATIONSHIPS</strong><br>Morgainne gets along with almost everyone she meets (as long as they are respectful and in possession of a rather mischievous sense of humour). She has many acquaintances and few close friends, but the ones she chooses to share in her adventures tend to be strong individuals with spirited personalities.<br><br><em>FRIENDS</em><br>Morgainne is a warm, spirited creature who finds friendship everywhere, and finds it especially difficult to solidify the line between 'friends' and 'not friends'. She spends most of her time enjoying her own company, but will gladly include enthusiastic and well-meaning individuals on her adventures if they so wish it. She has many acquaintances but few close friends, which is just how she likes it!<br><br><em>ENEMIES</em><br>While Morgainne is a fairly sprightly individual, she has made some enemies in the past; with her penchant for 'saving unwanted items from people who clearly don't care about the item any longer' and her overly rambunctious nature, this sunburst of delight is definitely not everyone's cup of tea.<br><br><em>LOVERS</em><br>Currently on a path to mend a freshly-broken heart, Morgainne is not looking for love; she will, however, jump into bed with most anyone with whom she shares a strong connection and a passion for life -- and what can happen between the sheets.<br><br><br><strong>5. HISTORY<br></strong>ECONOMIC STATUS GROWING UP || As owners and operators of the Healer's Hut, a highly successful family business selling plant-based home remedies, the de Locs are very rich and influential in the French wizarding community. <br>WHAT WAS IMPORTANT TO THE PEOPLE THAT RAISED HER || Family. <br>PLACES LIVED || Colmar, Alsace, France; Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, The Pyrenees; Woking, Surrey, England; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland;&nbsp; The Road.<br>CURRENT ADDRESS || Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland.<br>EDUCATION || Home schooled from 5-10, Beauxbatons from 11-13, Hogwarts from 13-18. <br>SPECIAL TRAINING || Trainee Healer at St Mungo’s under Healer-in-Charge, Augustus Pye. <br>ABILITIES || In-depth knowledge of healing plants and their properties. <br>WHERE DID THEY LEARN || From grandfather’s journals, mostly, but also in Herbology and her hands-on experience as a wandering healer. <br>JOB(S) || Trainee Healer at St Mungo’s, exotic dancer in Las Vegas, and Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts.<br>RESOURCES || Forced to rely on her grandparents for money when she was underage, but has been able to make her own way since graduating in 2009.<br></span></div>[/font]</div></div><br><br><div align="center">(http://www.heavenlyacrespetrescue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/page-break.png)</div><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>II. VINCENT RIDGEWELL</strong></span><br>(http://www.positive-magazine.com/edge/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/001_384-Ilford3200LC.jpg)<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>| | 17; May 22, 1999 | | M | | Heterosexual | | Pureblood | | Student, 7th year | | Slytherin | | Envy | | True Neutral | | Nicklas Kingo | | </em></span></span><br><br></span><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">coming soon</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"></span></div></div></div><br><br><div align="center">(http://www.heavenlyacrespetrescue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/page-break.png)</div><br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>III. CAOIMHE UISCE</strong></span><br>(http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bbwDquDARFo/UnnGvFlrguI/AAAAAAAAPtg/8n-Gjq2oFFY/s1600/nastya-zhidkova9.jpg)<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>| | 115~; "June 21" | | F | | Asexual | | Merrow | | Human Hunter | | "Gryffindor" | | Wrath | | Chaotic Evil | | Nastya Zhidkova | |</em></span></span><br><br></span><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">coming soon</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"></span></div></div></div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>☽☾</strong></span></div></div>
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