Post by dinahdolohov on May 24, 2011 1:25:43 GMT
dinah dorothy dolohov
THE SCARS OF YOUR LOVE
remind me of us - - - - - -[/center]
full name: dinah dorothy dolohov
nicknames: "dinah, dee, dolohov, whatever floats your boat."
birthday: "november first."
age: "just turned sixteen!"
house: "slytherin, of course."
blood status: "pureblood."
face claim: barbara palvin
school: ---
WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL
[/size]rolling in the deep - - - - - -[/center]
likes:
+ cold seasons
+ morning dew
+ fresh rain
+ peppermint
+ seasonal forests
+ fluffy animals
+ hot chocolate
+ proving herself
+ playing with minds
+ playful teasing
+ worrying over her hair
+ teasing the dog
+ poking fun at elders
dislikes:
+ summer
+ humid weather
+ reptiles
+ dragons
+ stuffy places
+ perfect imperfect silence
+ know-it-alls
+ haughty people
+ sour candy
+ slimy creatures
+ quidditch
+ slutty girls (& guys)
+ people who take their work to seriously
+ alcohol
+ people who ignore her
+ sunburns
strengths:
+ nonverbal magic
+ duelling
+ working with creatures (magical and otherwise)
+ keeping herself on the winning end of conflicts
weaknesses:
+ working with broomsticks
+ most sports in general
+ divination
veritaserum:
+ has a larger fascination with dark magic than most recognize
+ she's tried & failed at shifting into an animagi
dementor:
+ "it was springtime, and lucy was just about to turn one year old. she wasn't a very well behaved dog, as she could never keep her fluffy white fur perfectly clean. it was bath day, her least favorite day of the weak, and father had promised to take care of lucy's grooming. to my surprise, her pure poodle blood didn't lessen any of it. father wasn't in an especially good mood that day, mostly because my elder sister had snuck in with a boy from durmstrang. it wasn't much, that i knew. of course, as she was only fifteen. still, father "expected better of her". that morning, mother sent me of to a friend's. i came back to find a missing lucy, and it didn't take me long to find her. in the bathroom, lucy lay, dead. father was angry, or so he told me. sister has yapped in his ear through out lucy's entire bath time. then, once lucy had put up a fight, father had had it. by noon, sister an i conducted a memorial in lucy's honor. father was not invited. i was ten."
patronus: Vulpes vulpes.
+ "i wake up to a warm house, my silky blue blankets wrapping me in a fluffy cocoon. i exhaled softly, fluttering my eyes open and elbowing my way out. i lay for a moment, letting myself recall the night before. christmas eve. my eyes pop open, squinting slightly as i rub away sleep. i fell out of bed, running to my window and pressing my cheek against the glass. i had no time to worry about the cold, as the house was much to comfortable to even hint the idea of snow. yet as i peered through the window, i knew it was a snowy christmas. running to the closet, i pulled a large snuggy out of an already stuffed shelf. i stumbled down the steps, pausing for a moment. it was a strong scent, almost intoxicating. gingerbread. i smiled, making my way down. it had grown practically unidentifiable, as the aroma lingered through the household on most weekends. "mum!" i called, shuffling my tiny five nine year old feet into the kitchen. it was always the first place i checked, as tradition entailed. why not? the kitchen always held the cookies. my father peeked around the corner, cleanly shaven face smooth and wrinkle free. he never liked to look more than his own age. mother was close behind, twirling on the floor as my elder sister mimicked. i was stunned, freezing in my tracks as my father outstretched a hand. i took it, yanked downward. "dinah! wake up!" it was my sister. "hm?" i mumbled, nearly falling off the bed. i was awake."
sexuality & relationship status: "straight & single."
I HEARD ONE ON YOU
[/size]ill make your head burn - - -[/center]
father: apollo dolohov, 48, head of committee for the disposal of dangerous creatures
mother: francesca dolohov (gaunt family), deceased
siblings:
+ female ____ ____ dolohov, twenty, former hufflepuff
+ male ___ ____ dolohov , seventeen, current slytherin
others: in relation to the gaunt family, along with their decendants (peverell's, salazar slytherin, etc.).
overall history:
+ dinah is the baby. the child, the little sis, the one your father told you to watch. this, including the good and the bad. tied to multiple upperclass wizarding families, dinah was kept on a tight leash throughout her childhood. as half of her family had an uneasy history with marrying cousins, bringing in the other half (the dolohovs) was an important step in outreaching to other prestigious wizarding families. the dolohov's were somewhat less infamous, mainly known for their multiple black sheep. that, being the fair amount of death eaters. after mothering two child, the fragile francesca dolohov was pleasantly surprised with both children, as her expectations had been set low by the unruly behavior that was so stereotypical for a potential slytherin child. after siring his first eldest daughter, a hufflepuff, dolohov was set on siring two more children. both slytherins, a boy and a girl.
+ as an infant, dinah dorothy dolohov was a doll, no more than a tiny play thing her elder siblings enjoyed to play with. her nature was sweet, almost pet like. but as real personality began to set, her role slowly shifted into evil twin rather than adoring sister. thankfully, dinah was never to harsh. at least not around her brother. accompanied by her sister, dinah fought tooth and nail for her mother's attention. francesca dolohov was a fragile young lady, quieter than a mouse and more even tempered than the family dog. mrs. dolohov was set on grounding her children as well. still, fran kept her ideas realistic, and knew only to well the rest of her family would have none of it. as both eldest children entered reckless teenage-hood, dinah was used more for relaxation than anything else. to her dismay, attention was split between threes, and dinah stole plenty more than her fair share of her mother.
+ her father, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. he was the strict parent, the stern fellow, the father every friend feared. he was never especially frightening in her eyes, as she knew he tried his best to keep it that way. instead, he was absorbed, thoughtful, gallant, and wary. his face showed little wrinkles and lines, most the product of constant worrying. it was rare dinah ever caught a full smile, as most happy expressions were calm, serene, and mildly intrigued. as dinah grew older, father's personality began to take an aggressive turn, even towards his youngest child. whether it was his children's unruliness, or the events around him, apollo dolohov was disturbed. yet dinah never knew which side he was on.
+ dinah holds little recollection of her mother's death other than what killed her, as she didn't dare question more than the basics. unfortunately, much of it was far from truth. it was july, and mrs. dolohov and her husband had taken a pleasant trip to transylvania. the afternoon of their arrival, neither parent stepped out of the "self pulled" carriage. the very next morning, dinah dolohov woke up to a pair of romanian longhorn horns mounted above her fireplace, and the terrifying story of how her mother was scorched into ash. dinah refused to believe this. still, she stayed silent.
+ through out her current five slytherin years at hogwarts, dinah dolohov has made a name for herself as the biggest social butterfly in slytherin history. her fair collection of friends, some closer than others, has broken multiple house stereotypes. still, although she herself isn't as sneering as some of her closest friends, dinah remains a close member of many slytherin girl cliques, all keeping the infamous slytherin name strong.
YOUR GOING TO WISH
[/size]you had never met me - - - - - -[/center]
name/alias: emmazilla. or, you know, emma.
gender: optional
age: don't worry, i'm over thirteen xD
contact: pm is fina
how you found us: roleplay hunting on caution to the wind.
other characters: ---
experience: about three years
role play sample:
Gene smoothed her skirt as she began to read. Ugh, the Werewolves were totally mis-portrayed. And Lockhart? Saving a town? She didn't think so. Genesis made a face, slipping the book back into it's shelf as her eyes scanned for another. She was expecting something darker. Not another lovie-dovie novel. She knew them well. The ones that always rooted for peace between two nations. Her parents had tried to get her hooked on those many times, pushing fairy tales and romance novels her way. Uck. Even they knew there was no reigning Gene's instincts. Especially at the full moon.
At age thirteen, Gene had killed her first rabbit. Yet her surprise didn't last long, as her persona soon began to change even after her transformations. Gene was different, and her fellow students back at Hogwarts could feel it as well. She was no longer the bubbly child in the clique, she was the observer. Her eyes surveyed carefully as each movement they made seemed like just another mark in her book.
Her hunger had grown as well, more for meat than it was for salad. Even when the word was spoken, her mouth began to water. Beef, chicken, lamb, pork, rabbit, anything placed in front of her, she would eat. Which quickly ended all rumors of Gene's mysterious case of anorexia.
The fifth year's mood swings had also become violently swift. Twice as awful as any other teenage girl's PMS, yet not nearly as territorial as she was finding herself becoming. First she was happy, then sad. One hour she wanted to have another girl's head on a platter, the next she's rather cut off a hand than see her cry. Most of the time, she just wanted to defend. The need to protect in her had also risen. And, unfortunately, so had her hormone level. Gene had needs. Not the needs she had before. The occasion brushing of a hand or bump of a shoulder. Gene was much more flirtatious than that, and within a year had wildly transitioned from shy young fourth year to daring fifth. Yet Gene hadn't merely changed on the inside, she had also changed on the outside too.
Her eyes, young and bright, had grown densely clouded in thought. Their bright hazel color could stare daggers into any unsuspecting victims. Almost like a wolf's. Her hair grew twice as fast, and now wildly tumbled to her waist. Her porcelain skin had gone two shades paler, and against her dark brown hair, many accused her of being morbid. Yet she couldn't hide her completion, as even at her fifth year Gene had already grown an inch. And though her skirts hadn't shrunk, it certainly seemed so.
Gene's hand dug through the long row of books, finally yanking a thick leather bound journal. It looked expensive, once. But the pages seemed yellowed and the cover seemed just about ready to fall off. It was exactly the book she was looking for. Genesis held it in her hand for a moment, smiling softly as she blew off the thin layer of dust it had collected. The cover opened with a small crack, and a small yellow paper flitted out. She paused for a moment, staring down at it as she tried to make out what had been drawn. It was a diagram, small yet extremely detailed. Standing there, was a werewolf.
Gene jumped as a voice called behind her. The book dropped with a soft thump and Gene scrambled to pick it up, hastily tucking the picture inside the cover. "Jared Chance," she replied, lifting herself off the ground and cautiously setting the book on the side table. "Five years, or two weeks?" she asked curiously, smoothing her skirt again. "God, Gene. Small talk? Really? You can do better than that," she thought. Her eyes darted down at herself before dancing back to him. Damn, he looked good. Genesis bit her lip. There it was again. She blamed it on lycanthropy. "So, how's Ravenclaw treating you?"[/font]
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