Post by pinky :D on Feb 14, 2010 23:57:51 GMT -5
ALICE |LUCY |LOGAN
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i can't set my hopes too high
'cause every hello ends with a goodbye.
'cause every hello ends with a goodbye.
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[/size]IT’S A LIE SHE’S BEEN CARRING AROUND
IT’S THE LIE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN
[/font][/size]IT’S THE LIE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Name: alice lucy logan
Nickname: alice, ally, dimples, pipsqueak
Age/Birthday: sixteen & june fourteenth
Gender: female
Orientation: heterosexual
Blood Status: pureblood
Affiliation: order
Year/House: sixth year gryffindor
Wand: ten and three quarters inches, vine wood, unicorn tail hair core
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[/size]TAKES PRIDE IN APPEARANCE
AND THE JOB IN HAND
[/size]AND THE JOB IN HAND
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Eyes: blue
Hair: blonde, wavy, short
Height: five feet even.
Weight: don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her weight? -_______- in short, though, she's thin and petite and lacks muscles.
Distinguishing Features(if any): a dimple in her left cheek when she smiles.
Play-by: eliza bennett
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[/size]IT’S THE SIMPLE FLAW
THE MIND FORGETS TO LOOK FOR
[/size]THE MIND FORGETS TO LOOK FOR
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Erised: to know her deepest desire. frankly, ALICE is still young, just sixteen, and what she wants is to know what she wants. she'd like to change the world and make people happy and help others, but she'd also like to be happy herself. she's just a jumble of wants and wishes and misgivings, and she'd love it if she knew what her deepest desire was. maybe if she were to stumble upon this mirror she would find out, but for now, she just has to wonder.
Patronus: when she first showed signs of being a wizard. like most wizarding children, alice started to show signs of magic at a young age, but these signs were fleeting, and would only show up randomly before disappearing again for a few years. in this case, alice was a late bloomer. her first real experience with magic was when she was nine years old, and although it was late and something mundane for most wizard-children, it's a moment alice is going to remember forever; it was the moment she first felt like she finally fit in somewhere, with her family, with wizards, and at hogwarts where she would soon go.
the form her patronus takes, as strange as it may be, is a porcupine. odd to imagine a porcupine fighting off a dementor, isn't it? but porcupine describes alice so ridiculously well. porcupines are faithful and trusting, unassuming and reminiscent of childhood innocence and wonder. they're good-natured, sweet, and childlike, and carry a defense that they rarely use and only when feeling threatened.
Boggart: falling. whether it be falling off a broom or falling in love, she's scared either way.
Dementor: Right before Alice's fourth year at Hogwarts, the family went to Diagon Alley to get supplies with the rest of the extended family like every year. This year was different though. Alice had just gotten a new book, and she was lagging behind the rest of her family, nose in the book, reading intently when a pair of hands wrapped themselves around her waist and covered her mouth, pulling her into an alleyway. The men that had dragged her into there had intentions to rape her, but luckily, her father had noticed she had gone missing, and spotted her book on the ground outside the entrance to Knockturn Alley, pages face down to the floor. He knew that Alice would never leave a book like that, and so he went running through Knockturn Alley like a madman, looking for his adopted daughter. When he found her, he reported the men who had taken her, and then carried her back. The family returned home then, deciding to complete their shopping another day, but the incident stayed in Alice's memory for a long time.
Amortentia: after-rain scent, jasmine blossoms, strawberries.
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[/size]THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T SEE
AND THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR
[/size]AND THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Likes: daisies; rabbits; singing; cooking & baking; nature; hugs; sunrises; the color pink; sweets; strawberries; her family & friends; the scent of jasmine & vanilla; sunlight; animals; mythology; climbing trees; fireflies; adages; stars; snow; happy endings.
Dislikes: rain; fighting; the scent of roses; violence; crying; feeling vulnerable & helpless; being ill; blood; darkness & small spaces; loneliness; death; thunder & lightning; storms; darkness; clouds; sad endings.
Strengths: cheerful; loving; easy to please; is very intelligent; puts others before herself; helpful; retains a childlike innocence; determined to change the world; has pride in her family; brave and committed; thoughtful and sensitive; compassionate; friendly; has a big heart.
Weaknesses too eager to please others; has an inferiority complex and thinks that everyone is better than she is; sensitive to criticism; clueless; will avoid confrontation at all costs; physically weak; a bit of a door-mat; lacks self-esteem; impulsive; wears her heart on her sleeve; honest to the point of bluntness; controlled by her fears; clumsy; stubborn; does not believe in herself.
Overall Personality:
insecure , subject to fears, doubts, etc.; not self-confident or assured. Alice is probably the most insecure person you will ever meet. In her family, she has always been compared to her relatives. Because of this - and the fact that she rarely lives up to her father's expectations of her - she has developed an inferiority complex of sorts. She was never good enough to please her father like her sister did - always too shy, too small, too weak. Her family has always expected too much of Alice, and because of this, she has become sensitive to criticism, no matter how constructively it is presented. She often tries to hide this, but the fact of the matter is that she takes criticism as a personal attack. Her inferiority complex leads her to avoid competitions - since she pretty much feels that she cannot win - , not try out for the Quidditch team again -, that fear that she won't make it onto the team, on top of her fear of heights - , and to have a tendency of seclusiveness and timidity.
sweet , amiable; kind or gracious. Alice is a sweet and gentle soul, generally likable and friendly, with many qualms about saying 'no.' She isn't judgmental and tends to think the best of people, which can often land her in trouble. She has always been almost childish in her naivety, far too trusting. She is stubborn in her beliefs, too narrow-minded for her own good, which she gets from her mother. For the most part, however, Alice acts her age: young. She is quite innocent and can become nervous and embarrassed easily.
naive , having or showing unaffected simplicity of nature or absence of artificiality; unsophisticated; having or showing a lack of experience, judgment, or information. Although many people may bully her and disregard her because of her scrawny build, she still manages to keep her innocence and amiability in tact, two of her more appealing qualities. This, however, makes her easy prey. She is often pushed around and roughened into situations she'd rather not be involved in, as well.
clumsy , awkward in movement or action; without skill or grace. Alice is definitely the clumsiest person at Hogwarts. On a normal day, she is very clumsy, tending to run into things or tripping and falling. She'd trip over a blade of grass if it hit her foot the wrong way.
stubborn , unreasonably obstinate; obstinately unmoving. Despite her constant attempts to keep an open mind and reluctance to take a stand and fight, Alice has a surprising stubborn streak for such a small timid girl. Once her mind fixates on an idea it doesn't shake loose easily. Her non-existent self-esteem serves as the perfect example. No matter the compliments or praise she receives, no matter the dormant talent she discovers and awakens, no matter the people who try day after day to reach her, the idea that Alice will one day consider herself more than just a little worthless girl is laughable.
sensitive , having acute mental or emotional sensibility; aware of and responsive to the feelings of others. Most can tell upon first meeting her that she possesses a gentle, patient, malleable nature and has many generous qualities that allow her to be friendly, good natured, kind and compassionate. She is sensitive to those around her, and can often pick up on how others feel immediately. In such cases, she will respond with the utmost sympathy and tact to any suffering she encounters. Many people tend to be drawn to her due to her easy going, affectionate, submissive nature, and she generally offers no threat or challenge to stronger and more exuberant characters. She can easily accept those around her and when thrown in a situation she doesn't agree with, if trying to extricate herself has failed, she will simply adapt, accepting what has happened.
shy and quiet, yet cheerful; anxious; loving; eager to please and easy to please; puts others before herself; wants people to like her; helpful; has an inferiority complex; sensitive to criticism; innocent, clueless, and naive; will avoid confrontation at all costs; a bit of a door-mat; wants to change the world; has pride in her family; meek; lacks self-esteem; brave and committed; impulsive; wears her heart on her sleeve; honest to the point of bluntness; thoughtful and sensitive to the emotions of others; controlled by her fears; compassionate; friendly; clumsy; has a big heart; cannot hold a grudge; stubborn; strong-willed; thinks everyone's better than she is.
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[/size]IT’S THE CRACKING OF THE GLASS
THE HAUNTING OF YOUR PAST
[/size]THE HAUNTING OF YOUR PAST
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[/size]Family: marcus & isolde logan; fifty-nine years old: adoptive father & mother. ______ logan, fifth year, gryffindor, adoptive sister.
Pets: Adelais - a small brown pygmy owl.
Residence: hogwarts, gryffindor common room
History:
On a stormy summer night, a sickly pureblood witch gave birth to a small, pale baby girl. Shortly after, the woman passed away and the girl was left in the care of her father. But her father had never wanted a daughter. He was upset that she wasn't a son, and would often neglect her, cutting her with his harsh words and quickly passed judgments. It was because of this that, at a young age, Alice started to feel that she wasn't good enough, that everyone was better than she was, and it was because of this that she tried to impress everyone around her, and grew up wanting to make everyone happy and pleased. By the time she was four, Alice was shy and quiet and nervous, always worried about doing something wrong. Her father would go to work during the day and come home late at night, and Alice was often left in the care of his brother, who couldn't care less about her. When she was six, one stormy night, her father grew extremely angry at her. He was upset that she had yet to exhibit any magical ability, and he didn't want a squib to mar his perfect pure-blood family name. That night, in his anger, he punched her before he could realize what she was doing. Alice fell down the stairs and broke her collarbone from the punch and her leg from the fall, and had to stay in St. Mungo's for a month. Afterwards, however, when she was recovered, the healers at the hospital decided that it was not okay for her to return to her father, and so she remained at St. Mungo's orphanage section, waiting for someone to want her, to love her, like no one ever had.
One fateful day, Marcus and Isolde Logan, who had a daughter a bit younger than Alice but wouldn't mind another one, happened to see the child in St. Mungo's and inquired about her. Somehow, while Marcus visited a sick relative, Isolde grew attached to the child, and that was how Alice was adopted. She was taken to the Logan home on the outskirts of London, and from then on, lived happily with her new family and revelled in the togetherness of family that she had never known. She was loved, and it was all new to her, but somehow she felt that she would disappoint her new parents. They were so good to her, and she often found herself going out of her way to try to impress them.
From then on, Alice's childhood was a happy one, with her parents and sister, with whom she grew very close. She loved having her family with her at all times, whenver she needed them and even when she didn't. She grew up with a sort of fondness for being surrounded by people, influencing her personality as she grew up, for there was a great variety of personality traits around her. Her parents were both caring and kind, warm and sincere in all their actions, and from them she inherited that as well as a love of learning and book-smarts. Her sister were jovial and caring, clever and kind, impassive yet warm. Alice was often told that, being the youngest, she was a combination of all of them; somewhat bright and very amiable, cheery and whimsical, and also that she picked up characteristics of her own; sheepish and adamant, yet somehow naive and emotional, vulnerable in her deep emotions and insecure. She was just a big mess of things, a small creature easily influenced and picking up traits from everyone she met. A big jumble of things, complicated and complex. She ccan still remember wishing that she were more simple, less complicated, that she would be like everyone else and wouldn't stand out with her bright gold hair and freckly pale skin. She was just too different, and from a young age, she started to resent that.
Despite her secret acrimony to these things, her childhood from her adoption on was a happy one. The family of five was close knit, and would often spend time with relatives and family friends, go on picnics and walks and such. One of Alice's favorite family gatherings, however, was always Quidditch games. She started to love Quidditch at an early age, particularly because her parents had both played. From a young age, her sister and cousins would play a sort of downgraded version of Quidditch with her, and she received her first broom - a Junior Cleansweep - at the age of nine.
The summer of her eleventh birthday, she received her Hogwarts letter. That August, the family found themselves in Diagon Alley, where Alice received her first pet, a small pygmy owl with russet feathers and amber eyes. She was originally drawn to it because of its small size and adorable-looking stature, but she soon grew to love it for more than just appearances. She named it Adelais.
And the following September, little Alice was off on the Hogwarts express, accompanied by both siblings and various cousins.
Once the first years had sailed across the lake during a thunder storm (through which Alice had cowered in the boat for most of the time) and had arrived in the castle, soaking wet and dripping on the floors, they were assembled outside of the doors to the Great Hall and lined up in alphabetical order, before proceeding into an enormous room in which at least three hundred people were seated. All eyes were on the first years, and little Alice Prewett, with her bright gold hair, felt herself shrinking into the crowd, keeping her head low and trying to blend in. Her anxiety only grew as names started to be called, and one by one the eleven-year-olds were seated on a stool with the Sorting Hat placed on their heads. Finally, the name Logan, Alice Lucy rang out, and Alice scampered to the stool and sat down, as the hat was put on her head. It was big enough that it slipped right over her eyes and ears, stopping at her nose. Alice was frightened, to put it lightly, as the hat sat there, debating with itself whether she should go into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, and the few moments she had to sit there felt like they lasted forever. Just the thought that this hat could hear all her thoughts was scary enough - anyone would be frightened with all that magic on their heads. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the small girl was sorted into Gryffindor. She hurried off the stool as soon as "Gryffindor!" was cried out and hastily placed the hat back on the stool before running toward the table. Just her luck, though, Alice tripped on her way off the stool and fell flat on her face. For the rest of her time at Hogwarts, none of the students would let that down, and most labeled her as a klutz from that moment.
Hogwarts was as great as she had expected, Alice soon found out; she just had to learn how to keep her curiosity in check and not go wandering off. In her second year, she made it onto the Quidditch team as a chaser, but in third year, during a match in a thunderstorm, the wind blew Alice off her broom stick. The hundred foot plunge onto the ground left her in the hospital wing for a week, and she's been scared of heights since. And these days, Alice is often thinking about her future, her ambitions, where she'll be in five years. she was told back in third year upon taking divination before dropping the subject that she was a "dreamer," getting caught up in life's thoughts and philosophies, and now, more than ever, that seems true. For now, however, she'd just like to live her life and take one day at a time, never knowing what the future holds for her.
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[/size]YOU TOOK YOUR EYES UP OFF THE GAME
YOU’VE GOT NO ONE LEFT TO BLAME
[/size]YOU’VE GOT NO ONE LEFT TO BLAME
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Name/Alias: pinky!
Age: seventeeeeeeeeen
Roleplay Experience: about seven years
How you heard about us: you know. ;)
Code Phrase: -admin edit-
Roleplay Sample:
The wind was a soft, tender whisper through the night, brushing the young girl's cheek softly in passing. It came from the south, where the river lay, undisturbed in the darkness of the night, and went towards the north, toward which the small girl faced at the moment. Her dark hair blew lightly in the wind, the darkness bringing out its amethyst tints, and she raised a hand to push the strands back, only for them to be blown back onto her face. Bright violet eyes grazed over the layout of land that lay so peacefully below her, passing over each of the headstones the jutted out of the land in arranged order -- rows and rows of headstones beneath which hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of motionless bodies lay, with their unseeing eyes and still hands. So many beings gathered in this one spot... yet, none of them would ever again see day.
It was curious how Mirany had picked this particular night to visit the cemetery. It was far from a perfect night -- sure, there were stars glittering high in the sky with a sparkling radiance, curled in ribbons around the bright sliver of the waning crescent that was the moon. The breeze was neither strong nor cold, but carried a certain touch of potential energy, as if something great would happen on this night -- as if it needed to prepare itself. The sky itself was a dark curtain of velvety black, stars littered across its surface. Yet, everything was far from perfect, for the natural beauty of the night was hidden behind haze of clouds, and a mist had settled around the surface of the cemetery, causing the passing light of the moon to bathe everything in an eerie glowing light. So, why was it that the young girl had chosen such a creepy night to visit a place so depressing?
Even she herself knew not.
The night was calm, the quiet stillness and silence enveloping the vicinity of soul-less bodies, not with a serene sense of security, but with a smothering restlessnes -- as if something were going to happen, and the late night fog had done the perfect job of setting the scene. The moon and stars allowed just enough light for Mirany to see where she was going, but more would have been appreciated. And, despite the spectral quality of the night, it was a rare night -- rare because the light pollution from the nearby city of Tokyo didn't disturb the darkness of the night with its hazy fumes. No, the mist and clouds did that job just fine without help from the light pollution.
So, on a night so macabre, why would a small girl who usually disliked the night go to visit the cemetery on such a night? There was no reason for it: she had never known anyone who was now deceased -- well, anyone whom she had actually known. But maybe she had just felt the need to, or maybe she just needed to get out of the house, and this was the first place she went to.
Even if it was an eerie night full of potential horrors, and even if Mirany hadn't ever known her mother before she had passed away, she left her spot at the top of the hill on whose side the tombstones were placed, and traveled down the rows, picking up a small petunia that had struggled to grow between some bushes. Her mid-calf length pink boots made a small tap with each step she took, and the wind rustled the many gossamer layers of the white knee-length skirt she wore, until she finally stopped in front of one particular headstone -- one on which the name of her mother was inscribed.
Mirany knelt, placed the yellow flower in front of the headstone, and read the words that were engraved into it. They were words that she had read so many times that she had probably had them memorized by now. She had never personally known her mother, but now that she was gone, there was nothing Mirany could do about that, except honor her with a small petunia. Just a small flower for the life that that woman had given Mirany -- it seemed like a terribly selfish trade to Mirany. But, there was just nothing more she could do. Perhaps leaving the house in the dead of the night on a particularly eerie night would count for something.
Speaking of particularly eerie, just as the small Kurosaki girl stood up to leave, a cacophony of screams split through the air, and Mirany tensed, spinning around to face the direction from which it had come. Heart pounding in her throat, the small girl spun towards where it had come from and started running in that direction, acting purely on impulse, for there was nothing she could possible do were she to find some sort of monster there. Her curiosity only grew when a group of kids around her age ran from that direction, expressions of fear on their face, and along with it, Mirany's own fear grew. But she wasn't thinking, so she wasn't exactly aware of it at the moment.
She had reached the top of the hill by the time she stopped to catch her breath, but by then, the sound of the screams were far behind her, newly replaced by the caws of a flock of black birds leaving the area; Mirany shielded herself against them as they flew into the direction from which she had come, raising her forearms against their flurry of ebony feathers. And when they cleared up, the only thing left in their wake was a boy, sitting on the ground, staring at spot from which they had come. Mirany didn't know what she was doing as she walked over to him and held out a small hand to help him up -- for all she knew, he could have been the monster that had caused the previous clamor of shrieks and retreating ravens. But she wasn't one of judge, so, with her hand outstretched to him, she asked in a quiet voice, afraid of disturbing the sudden stillness of the night, "Are you all right?"
It was curious how Mirany had picked this particular night to visit the cemetery. It was far from a perfect night -- sure, there were stars glittering high in the sky with a sparkling radiance, curled in ribbons around the bright sliver of the waning crescent that was the moon. The breeze was neither strong nor cold, but carried a certain touch of potential energy, as if something great would happen on this night -- as if it needed to prepare itself. The sky itself was a dark curtain of velvety black, stars littered across its surface. Yet, everything was far from perfect, for the natural beauty of the night was hidden behind haze of clouds, and a mist had settled around the surface of the cemetery, causing the passing light of the moon to bathe everything in an eerie glowing light. So, why was it that the young girl had chosen such a creepy night to visit a place so depressing?
Even she herself knew not.
The night was calm, the quiet stillness and silence enveloping the vicinity of soul-less bodies, not with a serene sense of security, but with a smothering restlessnes -- as if something were going to happen, and the late night fog had done the perfect job of setting the scene. The moon and stars allowed just enough light for Mirany to see where she was going, but more would have been appreciated. And, despite the spectral quality of the night, it was a rare night -- rare because the light pollution from the nearby city of Tokyo didn't disturb the darkness of the night with its hazy fumes. No, the mist and clouds did that job just fine without help from the light pollution.
So, on a night so macabre, why would a small girl who usually disliked the night go to visit the cemetery on such a night? There was no reason for it: she had never known anyone who was now deceased -- well, anyone whom she had actually known. But maybe she had just felt the need to, or maybe she just needed to get out of the house, and this was the first place she went to.
Even if it was an eerie night full of potential horrors, and even if Mirany hadn't ever known her mother before she had passed away, she left her spot at the top of the hill on whose side the tombstones were placed, and traveled down the rows, picking up a small petunia that had struggled to grow between some bushes. Her mid-calf length pink boots made a small tap with each step she took, and the wind rustled the many gossamer layers of the white knee-length skirt she wore, until she finally stopped in front of one particular headstone -- one on which the name of her mother was inscribed.
Mirany knelt, placed the yellow flower in front of the headstone, and read the words that were engraved into it. They were words that she had read so many times that she had probably had them memorized by now. She had never personally known her mother, but now that she was gone, there was nothing Mirany could do about that, except honor her with a small petunia. Just a small flower for the life that that woman had given Mirany -- it seemed like a terribly selfish trade to Mirany. But, there was just nothing more she could do. Perhaps leaving the house in the dead of the night on a particularly eerie night would count for something.
Speaking of particularly eerie, just as the small Kurosaki girl stood up to leave, a cacophony of screams split through the air, and Mirany tensed, spinning around to face the direction from which it had come. Heart pounding in her throat, the small girl spun towards where it had come from and started running in that direction, acting purely on impulse, for there was nothing she could possible do were she to find some sort of monster there. Her curiosity only grew when a group of kids around her age ran from that direction, expressions of fear on their face, and along with it, Mirany's own fear grew. But she wasn't thinking, so she wasn't exactly aware of it at the moment.
She had reached the top of the hill by the time she stopped to catch her breath, but by then, the sound of the screams were far behind her, newly replaced by the caws of a flock of black birds leaving the area; Mirany shielded herself against them as they flew into the direction from which she had come, raising her forearms against their flurry of ebony feathers. And when they cleared up, the only thing left in their wake was a boy, sitting on the ground, staring at spot from which they had come. Mirany didn't know what she was doing as she walked over to him and held out a small hand to help him up -- for all she knew, he could have been the monster that had caused the previous clamor of shrieks and retreating ravens. But she wasn't one of judge, so, with her hand outstretched to him, she asked in a quiet voice, afraid of disturbing the sudden stillness of the night, "Are you all right?"
