Post by ivoryvein on Jan 14, 2009 16:18:03 GMT -5
Ivory Rosalyn Vein
||what do you see when you look at me [/font]
Name/Alias: Grey
Age: 18
RP Experience: Three years
How Did You Find Us: Um…The Day Hope Went Away
How Much Time Do You Plan To Spend Here Per Week: Quite a bit: at least a few hours a day.
Other Characters:--
||you say you know me [/font]
Character's Full Name: Ivory Rosalyn Vein
Nicknames: Ivy, Rory, Vein, Veiny (ew), Brian’s Sister (more disgusting)
Age: Sixteen
Year: Sixth
Canon or Original: Original
House: Hufflepuff
Birthday: 7th of June
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Blood Status: Halfblood
||still you've got no clue [/font]
Play By: Alexis Bledel
Appearance:It’s obvious that Ivory and Brian are related, at least somewhat, although she tries to put it out of her mind. Both she and her brother share their mothers dark, curly hair that is completely unruly. Ivory’s hair used to reach her lower back, in her younger days, but has since been cut considerably shorter and perhaps even darkened. Her eyes, however, are completely her father’s: bright and blue, perhaps coming from his Germanic descent. They are framed by long, dark lashes and pop out against her pale skin (surprisingly complimented by her dark hair). She’s a relatively small girl, standing at about 5’5” and 110 pounds, although she does have a small bit of muscle to back herself up. Many say she’s pretty, but since she is none-too-eager to “give it up” to just anyone, they mostly just admire from afar or bombard her with compliments.
||off all the things that I can do[/font]
Likes:
- Her brother (or did, anyway), classical music, painting, sarcasm, structure, summer, the Lake, swimming, sundresses, late nights, reading, laughing until her stomach hurts, watching Quidditch matches.
Dislikes:
- Her brother, sluts, Blood Purists, sneaking around, waking early, dancing, singing, bright colors, cold weather, cheesy pick-up lines, hormonal teenage boys, cherries, failure, compromise, the Dark Lord.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
- Quite temperamental; bitingly sarcastic; a bit naïve; overly empathetic; decision making.
Boggart: Truly fighting her brother one day
Patronus: Small falcon (it’s nearly impossible to cast)
Personality:
Whoever decided that Hufflepuff’s were fat, cowering wimps has obviously never met Ivory. Although it is often thought that Badgers are quiet and shy, the complete opposite is true for Ivory. She has quite the temper, as does her brother, but that’s about all they share. When they do argue, or when she argues with anyone, it usually turns into a quick battle of wits, and she gets fired up quite easily. Sarcasm is marked quite high in her book, and she never questions using it when a situation arises.
Aside from that, though, she is quite the “stereotypical Hufflepuff”. She is extremely loyal to her friends and, once you have joined her ranks, she stands by you through everything. That’s why it was so hard to have Brian abandon her: she had always looked up to him, and when he shunned her, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Now, she tries to convince herself she’s numb to it, but that’s the farthest thing from the truth.
Ivory works hard at everything she does and never gives up. She was a bit surprised she wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw, but realized that she’s not naturally book-smart, just tries incredibly hard in school. When she is pursuing something, she goes after it full force, perhaps not paying enough attention to the consequences. It gets her into a few sticky situations at times, but it’s a reckless skill she’s a bit proud of.
However, Ivory is also very patient. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and she’s well aware of that. She’s constantly pushing herself to pursue something, but doesn’t have a problem with waiting as long as is necessary. [Another reason she’s saving it for marriage (that’s right, Brian, you whore)]. Some may call her a prude, and, although it bothers her, she sticks to her guns. She doesn’t want to become like her brother, and she knows how often he gets around, already setting up a reputation that she would be as easy as he is. (Not the case, my friends.)
||history may repeat itself [/font]
Father: Magnus Arnold Winslow [deceased]
Mother: Deirdre Elaine Mensa [deceased]
Siblings: Half-brother Brian Callum Vein
Other Family: --
History:
Ivory was born to a Pureblood witch and a Muggle father who were incredibly in love. She loved them both, and her older brother Brian. When they were younger, they were constantly together, playing all sorts of games and telling stores (mostly Brian, usually to scare Rory). Their fun was short-lived, however, as their parents died before they moved to Germany. The two orphans then moved in with their aunt and uncle in England, and Ivory tried to find a silver lining of the dark cloud that hung above them. She immersed herself in her dolls, constantly reassuring herself that all of the orphans she had read about always ended up living wonderful lives. After a few months of this, she truly believed it and became the happy child she had always been once again, charming everyone with her easygoing attitude and winning smile.
Things with Brian began to change, however, making her feel alone and as if she had done something wrong. It was around this time that her temper began to flare up, and she and Brian would sometimes get into shouting matches like they never had before. It shocked her, and when Brian left for Hogwarts eventually, their relationship slowly fell back into normality.
When she was sent off to school as well, it only worsened their situation. She was sorted into Hufflepuff, apparently the least-desireably of houses. Brian shunned her, saying she was only half-related to him and not worth his time. Ivory was shocked: Brian had, at one time, been her best friend, hero, and mentor…and now? She was furious and shut herself off from him and anyone reminding her off him. For days, she cried in the Hufflepuff Girls’ Dormitory, constantly being comforted by others in her house. It was then that she realized she had real friends and did not need her prick of a brother or anyone who looked down on her. She broke out of her depression and simply ignored Brian and his friends all-together, except when they got into heated arguments and the rare dueling match (only once or twice, and stopped before any serious damage could be done).
Now, she is excited that Brian will finally be leaving, but also secretly devastated. She fears that, after Hogwarts, they will never contact each other again, while at Hogwarts they at least had some form of communication (even if it was hatred). She has always loved her brother, even all these years that he has pushed her away, and she longs for the day when they will be able to push past their blood and all of the torment the past six years have brought. That is, if that day ever comes.
||at least I've got skills[/font]
RP Sample:
She wasn’t quite sure what they were exactly, but they were awfully ugly. Skinny as poles but with bright, shining eyes that chilled her, making her teeth chatter even in the humid fall weather. And where had they come from? She had never noticed the black winged horses before, but she wasn’t surprised. She had been pretty “distracted” the past few months and could have easily missed some Hogwarts news about a new installment of draconian horses. The whole summer had been a dream, full of “I’m so sorry for your loss”s and too many homemade casseroles. Her brother, Dion, had graciously accepted all of the food, cards, gifts, and apologies, smiling as he answered the door and nodding seriously with every retelling of some moment with Edie and Dorian. Dorcas, however, had not been so habilitating, lying in her bed and ignoring the doorbell, even when Dion was forced to return to his job at the library. (If he had had it his way, he probably would have continued to dote on her and try to soothe her, like he used to when she would cry in the middle of the night after a nightmare involving tapioca and her favorite teddy bear.) Actually, Dorcas was relieved when he left, finally free of the constriction that engulfed her lungs and her heart. Without him, she no longer had to reply to any questions or get up and fix herself something to eat, to prove to him that she was alive and could survive on her own. In actuality, she wasn’t sure if she could, but she had made it back to Platform 9 ¾ in one piece, only having to repack her items three times before she convinced herself she needed to return to the school.
Now, she was regretting said decision, kicking her luggage lightly with the toe of her school shoes. She could have still probably made her escape if she timed it correctly, but that hope was lost as a solemn Adam Moniz materialized at her side.
“Hey,” he murmured, turning to look down on her with pained eyes. “I heard about what happened. I’m so sorry about your par-“
“Yeah, I know,” she replied, not giving him the satisfaction of looking him in the eyes. That’s all anyone ever wanted to see, an acknowledgement of your sanity, any sign that you understand their pain for you. What no one understood, and what truly infuriated Dorcas, was the fact that she didn’t want any apologies. She did not want the clattering of friendly chatter, or sobs of understanding, or even homemade cheesecake to help “ease the pain”. She wanted silence, just someone to sit next to her and pretend that they weren’t thinking about her or her situation. Even if she knew it wasn’t true, she would rather pretend that they weren’t obsessed with trying to amend the injustice with apologies or food, and even when they forced smiles and laughter, their eyes always gave them away. So full of sorrow and feeling. She wondered what her own eyes looked like: probably dead. That’s what she had heard peoples’ eyes looked like when they lost something so important, but she couldn’t really place her finger on it: she had refused to look at herself in any mirrors, so she could have grown an extra one and she wouldn’t have known the difference.
“Hey, listen, I know –“
“What’re those new horses for?” she quipped reflexively, refusing to allow him to continue with the same monologue she had heard time and time again, looking for another subject of interest. She nodded towards them, a quizzical tilt in her head, folding her arms protectively across her chest. Adam turned, staring puzzeldly at the carriages, before giving her a questioning look. “What horses?”
She scowled at him, shaking her head. What was he talking about, what horses? The emaciated dragon-like ones drawing the carriages of course. “Those, in front of the carriages,” she snapped, pointedly raising a finger towards the nearest one who was snapping at a tiny Hufflepuff. Adam looked once more, but shook his head. “Dorcas, there aren’t any horses.” He raised a hand to her head, steadying her with his arm. “Are you sure you feel up to this? I’m sure they would let you take a bit off of school, considering… We really don’t need you fainting all over the place.”
She smacked his hand away, impatient with his insolence. “Right there, Adam! Are you blind? Really, this isn’t funny. I’m in no mood to 'play around' about some stupid ponies.”
He opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly snapped it shut in shock, his eyes darkening as his brows met in the center of his forehead. He sighed, rubbing his temples and groaned lightly. “Shit…”
“What? What?” she questioned, tugging on his robes like a child, testily awaiting what would cause such a drastic change of character. She was really rather tired of this game, and his long moment of silence only caused her to ripen. “Adam, what is it?”
He didn’t meet her gaze, but instead, searched their nearby surroundings for another patron to act in his place, but Dorcas had none of it. “Adam, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m going to hex you into oblivion.” With an exasperated sigh, he eyed the ground, and finally, finally stared down into her indignant glance. He fumbled for words, eliciting a demanding glare from Dorcas, which forced the words out. “I’m sorry, Dorcas, I’d just rather someone else tell you. I would have thought you’d have known, since you’re always reading about those mythical creatures and whatnot. I just…I can’t say it, it’s –“
“Come on, Adam, what’s the big deal?” she pressured, deriving yet another sigh from his terse mouth. She was prepared to badger him once again, when it flooded out, catching her by surprise and tossing her downstream.
“They’re thestrals. You can only see them once you’ve…witnessed someone’s death. They’ve been here the entire time, it’s just…you’d never seen them because…well, you’d never seen anybody die. But, now…you’ve…well you’ve…”
But Dorcas was no longer listening, the faces of the other students from the Potter’s party filling her vision, their same shocked expressions as the identity of the mysterious horses were finally revealed. She stumbled to the edge of the pathway, knees skidding into the ground as she clutched at her stomach. She saw it all again, wands whipping through the air, green light emanating from the dark robes, striking them right before her eyes, smoke billowing from the woods surrounding them. They fell, so slowly it was painful, and Dorcas could hear her cries echoing against the paned glass of the Potter's window. That was the last thing she had seen, until her eyes became dark, and even then, she could not escape the horrible vision. She had replayed it so many times, unwillingly, and it never became any easier.
Adam continued his explanation, overlooking the funeral carriages, unaware that his audience was becoming thoroughly sick behind the begonia bushes.
