Post by helena on May 24, 2011 7:22:14 GMT
helena ava rosier
THE SCARS OF YOUR LOVE
remind me of us - - - - - -[/center]
full name: Helena Ava Rosier – pronounced “He-LAY-nuh”
nicknames: Elle or Lena to most; close friends and relatives have the privilege of calling her Leney or Ellie. Call her Helly and you die.
birthday: December nineteeth
age: seventeen
house: Ravenclaw
blood status: halfblood
face claim: Anna Speckhart
WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL
[/size]rolling in the deep - - - - - -[/center]
likes:
x. chocolate
x. independence
x. alone time
x. Herbology
x. Potions
x. Astronomy
x. Quidditch
x. coffee
x. music
x. cigars
x. being barefoot
x. animals
x. cooking/food in general
x. competition
x. sarcasm
x. a good book
x. nighttime
x. having a good time
x. adventure
dislikes:
x. Divination
x. tea
x. dressing up
x. wearing shoes
x. idiots
x. ignorance
x. bigots
x. restrictions
x. rules
x. being told what to do
x. morning
x. seafood
x. anything pumpkin flavored
x. children
x. her uncle
x. being stereotyped as a boring Ravenclaw
x. boredom
x. being underestimated
x. tight/confined spaces
strengths:
x. confident
x. honest to the point of bluntness, though this may also be seen as a weakness
x. diligent, although likely construed as stubborn
x. resolute in her opinions and desires
x. practical, for the most part
weaknesses:
x. overly curious
x. at times completely insensitive
x. extraordinarily cynical
x. mercurial, but this can also be considered a strength
x. doesn’t trust easily, if at all
veritaserum:
x. her uncle is physically abusive and her father doesn't give a damn. she hides the bruises well, and she's not really intent on telling anyone what goes on at home.
x. she’s a hopeless romantic at heart, despite any cynical outlook she claims to have.
dementor: Her worst memory is also responsible for her biggest fear—claustrophobia. Because her mother died in childbirth, Helena’s uncle had a large part in raising her. With her father always at work, she was often left under the care of Uncle Marcus. Uncle Marcus, bluntly put, was a brute, and invented all manner of torturous punishments which he usually implemented with little prompting. Although he’s more than likely done or is more than likely capable of doing much worse to Helena, her worst memory still remains one particular time that he locked her in a broom cupboard as punishment for scraping her knee climbing a tree. Since then, Helena has hated confined spaces and is known to get antsy in large crowds.
patronus: Her patronus takes the form of a magpie. Her best memory is a fairly simple one. Her first year at Hogwarts is the memory she uses to conjure her patronus, mostly because it symbolizes the time where she no longer had to spend every waking moment in her father’s house. Instead, for most of the year, she was away from her father and her uncle, and until something better rolls around, that’s enough to suit her for now.
sexuality & relationship status: single and probably not interested in you.
I HEARD ONE ON YOU
[/size]ill make your head burn - - -[/center]
father: Evan Rosier Jr., forty-six, head apothecary at St. Mungo’s
mother: Izabella Ava Lotus, deceased
siblings: none
others: Marcus Rosier, uncle, fifty, unemployed socialite
overall history: By some unfortunate circumstance, Izabella Lotus met Evan Rosier Jr. during the most confusing time of her life. She was eighteen, fresh out of American high school, and determined to have some fun on holiday in England. While no stranger to romance, Izabella was swept off her feet by the charming Evan, unaware that he was a wizard, and not a very nice one at that. Still, they spent some time together, and eventually, one thing led to another and Izabella found herself pregnant, unmarried, and broke in the middle of London. The marriage was rushed and all hush-hush, because god forbid any Rosier boy be discovered consorting with a Muggle. Nine months later, Helena Ava Rosier was brought into the world, and Izabella Ava Lotus was taken out of it.
It would be remiss to say that Helena didn’t have an affluent childhood. But affluence doesn’t always necessitate happiness, as is the case with Helena. From the time she understood what the words meant, she knew her mother had died giving birth to her, but she didn’t know the less than pretty details surrounding her own conception, or the fact that her parents didn’t even really know each other that well. She was under the impression that they had a fairytale marriage until Izabella was brutally taken from the arms of her beloved husband.
For the most part, Helena was raised by her uncle with some half-assed effort contributed by her father. As the head apothecary at St. Mungo’s, it was understandable that Evan didn’t exactly have time for kids. It was no secret that his older brother would have made a terrible parent, but Evan couldn’t find it in himself to care. Here was an unwanted child, and an opportunity to have as little as possible to do with her. He was sure that after rearing her through a pampered, albeit possibly abusive, childhood, she’d just learn to behave the way any other ignored pureblood girl would—she’d become frigid and aloof and learn never to speak of those things aloud.
The events surrounding Helena’s birth were a well-kept secret to all, and she was raised very much like any other pureblood girl was, and was socialized in only the most elite social groups. Instead of nannies, she had a brutally abusive uncle. She learned to keep the punishments from getting to her in time, but being locked in a closet for hours left a permanent scar on her in the form of severe claustrophobia. Still, she managed to survive her childhood. Her happiest day was when she received her Hogwarts letter and was sent off to school. She’d only have to spend a month or two in her father’s house thereafter, and that was better in her mind than any expensive dress or racing broom.
She wasn’t permitted to play Quidditch during school, but she still had a fiery passion for the sport and was excessively competitive as a spectator. Having no other outlet, she resorted for the most part to art as well as her studies. While not exactly the most study-oriented of Ravenclaws, she still managed to achieve some of the highest marks in her class consistently for every year. She was more of a smartass than anything, and that pissed off members of her own house as well as others. She couldn’t exactly say she made a stupendous amount of friends, but she’d rather have a million enemies than a million idiotic friends.
Living for the moment was sort of her style, and if that meant pissing off the people she was told not to piss off, she couldn’t give a damn.
YOUR GOING TO WISH
[/size]you had never met me - - - - - -[/center]
[/i]
name/alias: Quin
gender: female
age: 20
contact: pm is preferable. I rarely use MSN, but if the occasion arises I might be willing to give it out.
how you found us: a string of ads
other characters: none
experience: forever. no, seriously, like 10 years now.
role play sample:Everything was spinning by the time she had reached the edge of the black lake. She had run too fast and her insides were all aflutter, never mind the fact that she was torn between screaming at the top of her lungs and jumping in the lake and never coming up for air.. She didn't care that it was soon past curfew and she should have started her prefect duties fifteen minutes prior. Her head was threatening to explode and the air inside the castle walls was closing in on her.
Tears blurred Katharina's already hazy vision as she stumbled to her favourite tree, the one she'd sit under during the warmer months and read the manuscripts her father sent her for his latest novel in progress along with personal notes that were only exchanged between the two. She breathed raggedly and then without much ceremony collapsed onto her knees, hugging the tree until she took a few good moments to catch her breath. She had scraped her knees on the way down, a cut that was starting to bleed, but she didn't care.. The only thing that registered in her head were those words scribbled on the crumpled piece of parchment clutched in her hand.
[/ul]It was her mother's handwriting that greeted her, not her father's as she had expected. Last time he wrote he said he'd send the next chapter of his latest project to her, but that was weeks ago. She had begun to get worried, anxious. The letter was addressed from a Mr. Theodore Nott. She had been so excited she almost screamed out loud. But then she opened the letter and was devastated to find those callous words. She tore off out of the building, leaving many dazed, staring prefects in her wake.
[/ul]That was what had really set Kate off. Her mother wanted her father to die. That was that. She'd collect everything his estate ensured; he was worth loads of money now that he was a published, highly acclaimed author. She'd play the part of the weeping widow and behind closed doors throw everything she had at Kate. The only reason she ever held back was fear of what Theodore would do, say... ruin.
She was inches from a nervous breakdown. She could feel it. She had bitten so hard into her lip that it was bleeding but she hadn't noticed, and was surprised to taste blood on her tongue. She willed herself to breathe, just breathe, even though right then and there that was the most painful thing to do.
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