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1
Archived Applications / Lucy Gemna Hopland
« on: 08/08/2015 at 20:57 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Lucille Gemna Hopland

Birthday: May 2nd, 1928

Hometown: London, England

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): Seventh (Preferred), Sixth

Biography:

August 27th, 1945

Unobtrusively, so as to make sure the very air in the room left her presence unmarked, Lucille ran her fingers along the surface of all that she could reach. The Headmistresses’ desk, the quills and ink (-of which she took the time to straighten-) stationed immediately to the right of the stack of no doubt important documents ready for her perusal, the plaque with her name on it, and then later the books and ornaments that lined the walls around her.

The candy went untouched for about a millisecond, mind immediately drifting to the stern words she’d given herself regarding her diet, and then she took two. Certain things had changed, you see.

She nibbled on a skeletal head as she did her slow turns around the office.

It was nostalgic being back home. Little had changed in the architecture of the school, which was reassuring. As someone who hated the idea of change as a child, and had been suddenly thrown into a world of it as a teen, seeing the familiar stonewalls of Hogwarts made the homecoming just a little sweeter. It soothed her.

Having poked her nose in nearly everything that caught her attention, that being primarily trophies and moving pictures of memorable moments (and one that looked suspiciously like Emma Birch, which hung right beside the one of her own daughter), Lucille approached her seat.

Her foot caught on a nearby stool, oddly out of place in the room, and the second she made to reach for the lump of worn velvet that’d flown off, the cloth croaked out a single sentence--

”Back so soon?”

--and all hell brook loose.




Lucille could barely stand still--not that she did usually, but this time it was worse. Her fingers were gripping her dark robes and her eyes darted from table to table, barely registering the different faces. When the grouchy looking woman leading the group had disappeared for a moment, leaving the first years exposed to the rest of the school, she just about had a panic attack.

The ride on the train had gone without a hitch, despite the fact that she'd managed to annoy an older girl not even ten minutes after getting on board, and the boat ride had been mind-blowing. Hogwarts at night was definitely a sight to behold and none of the stories some of the older years told her over the summer did it justice.

But going through that was the easy part.

Now, as she stood in the midst of a large group of some frightened, some ecstatic first years, she was terrified. She could feel the million pairs of eyes on them and unlike some of the other students this wasn’t a situation she could casually brush off – this felt too much like being abandoned.

But then the grouchy la—Deputy Headmistress (she was a student now, she had to use proper terms) came back and she could breathe easily again.

The woman brought something with her, too; a dusty, old hat. It looked well worn, floppy and like it was going to crumble into pieces at any second. Then suddenly, one of the slits that she perceived to be a fold parted and it began singing.

She didn’t know why a singing hat surprised her so. She’d grown up around magic her whole life, but something about a piece of fabric belching out a (not at all) random song eased her nerves some. It was silly and felt like a preview of what was to come.





Lucille froze.

The hat opened its mouth again, for what, she couldn’t have known, but the first thing her mind flew to was its infamous Opening Feast song. And as someone who was told to stay put while the Headmistress returned, her hands flew over the slit that served as its mouth and shoved her fist inside.

“No! No. shhh, I was just sent here to…try you on!”

It made a spitting sound, or something. Whatever it was sounded unclear around her fist.

”I’ll have you know--!” She recoiled her hand once she realized what she’d done.

“I need to be sorted!”

”What?”

If it had eyebrows it would’ve raised one at her Hufflepuff attire. She wasn’t even sure if this was how returning students were accepted back into the school. All she had to go off of was in her third year, she believed it was, Nathaniel Ellwood-Luxe had left a Slytherin and had come back a Gryffindor. The boy had refused to sleep in his own commonroom he’d been so disappointed. Was he the only exception?

She hoped so.

“That’s right. I need to be sort—uh, resorted.”

The hat settled both in temperament and as she placed it in its proper position on the stool; she rubbed off the specs of dust that’d gathered from its fall for good measure.

The hat was silent for a stretch and Lucille gripped her hands in front of her. All of this for the off chance the hat wouldn’t mention her blunder to Ivanova was surely not worth it. It was necessary, but not worth it.

”Alright,” she crinkled her nose in trepidation at its next words, ”put me on then.”




And finally, the Deputy Headmistress rolled out a piece of parchment and began the main event. And just like that Lucille’s nerves were back full force.

”Hopland, Lucille.”

She let out a small whimper and ducked her head, pushing her way through the group. Her eyes were focused solely on the stool and she hurried over, tripping slightly on the first step, and plopped herself down unceremoniously. The hat was placed over her eyes and reached one hand up to feel it. It wasn’t as soft as she'd imagined, but it was funny how even at the worst of times her curiosity managed to shine through.

Apparently the hat seemed to think so too.

”Do I meet your expectations?” There was a dark chuckle and Lucille blinked slowly under the hat. ”I guess not.” Could it read her mind?

The hand that was feeling its side scratched it briefly, and she thought as loud as she could, “Hi. What’s your name?”

”An uncontrollable curiosity, I see. A hint of playfulness and plenty of warmth to go around.” A pause then she he it continued, ”My name is the Sorting Hat, child, nothing more.”

“I know but wha—“

”HUFFLEPUFF!”





Oblivious to what this meant, Lucille clutched at the hat with both hands and smiled the kind of secret smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Although the way she’d come about it was manipulative, the idea of being sorted again had its charm and the old excitement from her first sorting stirred up.

It wasn’t like anything had changed anyway. She wasn’t Nathaniel.

Taking a seat on the once occupied stool, Lucille placed the hat carefully on her head. Despite being six years older than the previous time and with half a decade's worth of growing behind her, the brim still spilled over her forehead like an untamable fringe, and suddenly she was eleven again with eyes too big for her face and a whole lot on her mind.

(It felt like home.)




And the year had begun.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Anything but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, please!

Personality: As someone who once depended wholly on the support system of her friends, and after a year of having no one, Lucille’s changed. The idea of ’give her an inch and she’ll take a mile’ still applies twofold here, but she knows that if she wants something, it’s better to work for it herself. That is, she no longer asks, she simply takes. She’s learned to be harder on herself, and she’s gained a whole new perspective on life, on people, and on what she wants for herself.

No longer will there be a wide-eyed, baby-faced teenager staring back at you when you look her in the face. Instead you’ll meet the gaze of a budding young woman who has cried herself to sleep far too many times in the past year and a half. 

The naivety that clung to her as a child and early teens is all but gone now, and that invincibility she carried like a cape draped over her shoulders has been abused so many times it’s weighing her down and tripping her up; the fact that she’s even standing on two feet is a miracle.

Her loneliness hit her like the backhand of a nun’s curse, and for the life of her, coming to terms with the fact that her actions led to what was one of the lowest times of her life was the perspective she needed to pick herself back up. She regrets a lot of the decisions she made, but given the chance she wouldn’t change them.

She has intense emotions and passionate feelings, higher highs and lower lows, than most, but now she fears the lack of control. So whereas she once wore her heart on snot-stained sleeve, she’s careful about giving her friendship so willingly.

She’s also uncontrollable and restless, realistic and magnetic; she likes to think she’s unattainable, but if there’s something she wants, she’ll get it. That much hasn’t changed.

Appearance: She’s grown into herself a lot since the last time I wrote this, both vertically and horizontally. But she’s still a ginger and that’s all that really matters.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Option 1:
She hummed a low tone as she walked. Both mindful of the sweet time she was taking and anxious to meet up with her loved one. Her mind was jumping to several excuses she could use as to why she was late for their study date, all of which the Gryffindor wouldn’t believe, but as she’d learned the hard way it was better to be prepared than empty handed.

Her tune picked up as she noticed she wasn’t the only one traversing the dungeons. A brave feat for someone so small, and aware of her surrounding, too? That much couldn’t be said for herself as a first year. She’d never known what was up or down.

Softening her footsteps so as to not come thundering through the corridor like a bull and potentially frightening the child, Lucille picked up her pace.

It was no longer a matter of quiet, however, she truly was going to be even later than she was.

Coming up behind the first year, Lucille paid no mind to her words. It must’ve been older-year that’d sent her down there with the idea of capturing some ghost. Well, she could assure them both the scariest thing down there would be Calypso if Lucille never showed up.

“Careful,” A hand left the books clutched to her front and drifted over the first year’s head airily, “Call for her three times and she might appear.”

(Merlin may she rest in peace.)

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Lucille Hopland & the workers of Dunder Mifflin.

How did you find us?: Google


2
Character Classifieds / Re: Join the Ugly Greene Pedigree
« on: 05/12/2014 at 20:05 »
TRUMAN'S MINE

3
Archived Applications / Icarus Caelius Paladin
« on: 13/04/2014 at 02:06 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Icarus Caelius Paladin

Birthday: November 3rd, 1925

Hometown: England

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration

Year (pick two): Fifth (preferred), Sixth

Biography:
Palatine Hall, ca. 1939
 
Sharp, porcelain teeth glinted in the dim light as Icarus glared at his older brother from across the room. He wasn’t a child, he wasn’t six years old anymore, and he was damn sure he could make decisions for himself. The way they were treating him had nothing to do with how capable he was, nor his age, but instead of how absurd their beliefs were. They were bigger incompetent fools than he thought if they truly believed some squabble between Germany and the rest of the world would put his life in danger.

They underestimated him, they underestimated his school, and put them both on the same level as the little fairies that danced about at Hogwarts.

“I’m perfectly safe and you all know it.”

He ignored the look his mother shot him.

“I demand to go back.”

The silence that filled the room at his declaration was suffocating. It was like slowly, one by one, every single one of his relatives had a wrapped their gnarled hands around his throat and were slowly squeezing. It was the look in their eyes; one that said, back off and sit down before we strike. He was pushing it, he knew, but he couldn’t stop.

It was this obstinate need of his. He needed to push against; he needed to test their limits. It filled the urge within him that demanded he exert his power. Some say it’s because he’s the second male of the family. He saw it as knowing what he wanted and taking it.

"Stay silent, you foolish boy!"

“No, you keep quiet.” The words were uttered harshly, shockingly almost, and in stark contrast to the quiet, rushed tones they’d been speaking in.

His first mistake.

“None of you would understand what it’s like there, and you’d hardly even begin to comprehend what I’ve built up!” The connections he made would provide useful, and if nothing else, amusement in the years to come. What was there to offer at a school named as ridiculously as it was and with a reputation to match?

Underestimating. Presumptuous. His second mistake.

“Just because all of you were mindless enough to make the mistake of going to such a shi—“ Even he knew when he’d crossed the line, the sting to his cheek with just a painful reminder. His head tilted with the force of the hex, and the sensation of tiny little pinpricks spread all along his cheekbone. It was painful but he held his tongue, refusing to give them the satisfaction of crying out.

Third strike--

"It was not your right to attend Durmstrang, but a privilege. We are now rescinding that privilege because of your lack of appreciation of both it and the situation at hand."

The blood rushed up to his cheeks and he had to bite his tongue from making any noise of discomfort.

"You will be withdrawn from Durmstrang shortly. I expect you to make all the necessary preparations prior to your departure."

His fists clenched at his sides, but still he said nothing. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew when it was time to draw back.

"Once you return home, you shall live here, in the Hall, and share Pacifica and Paris' tutor for the time being. Is that understood?"

--and he was out.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: I was thinking Slytherin? (Anything but Hufflepuff!)

Personality: Icarus is a prat and spoiled and likes to push the buttons of those around him, but never will you hear him second guess himself or his abilities. Even when he knows he's in the wrong. Saying he's overconfident is an understatement and proving him otherwise is hard enough without his thick-headedness. Unlike his more reserved family members, he's loud, he's obnoxious, and he'll push every boundary known to man. In the end, though, he'll still expect you to take him seriously and melt at his feet when deemed necessary.

To those who know him well, or even those who’ve spoken to him and been around him long enough, know of his complete disregard for the opposite sex. He likes to use people, likes to know what he can gain from certain relationships, and while blood-status isn’t a big issue with him, where you come from and how you present yourself is. He seems like the kind of guy to want to surround himself with materialistic things, and he is--to a point. He does it for appearances mostly, while the people he knows he’ll put up with always are the only ones that see him at his most casual.

Appearance: Icarus is a momma’s boy in personality and in looks--but mostly in looks. He has his mother’s full head of silky, dirty blonde hair, and for this he is eternally thankful. The strands are a bit long, brushing just past the tips of his ears, and he usually wears it gelled back or pushed out of his face. His eyes are a family trait; clear grey in color with flecks of green dotting his iris. His build is slight but muscular, the early teen years doing him well, and he’s little over average height for his age. Used to looking down at most people, it throws him off when he encounters those of similar height or taller.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.

His hair was wet at the tips and coiled playfully outwards, as if reaching out towards the high-heavens. Icarus ran a disgruntled hand through his dripping locks, a pathetic attempt at appeasing the unruly strands, and muttered obscenely under his breath.

There was no need for him to be so angry; it’d been his fault he’d gotten himself caught outside at the start of what seemed like a tsunami. The downpour started when he’d been on his way back from the Menagerie, and hadn’t let up since. Now, as he made his way through the empty corridors, he couldn’t help but shudder at the feel of his wet robes clinging heavily to his skin.

There was nothing he hated more than feeling uncomfortable, and who in their right mind would while completely soaked?

To say his mood was testy at best would be an understatement.

The slip of a girl slid from out of nowhere, and Icarus hissed under his breath just as his feet came to a stuttering halt in front of her. Watching her gangly limbs catch up to him had been comical, but what soon followed her appearance crushed what little amusement he’d had at the moment.

“What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”

He didn’t think he’d heard her right.

No, he hoped he hadn’t, for he didn’t know what he’d do if the only reason the little chit had dared to interrupt him was for a question as ridiculous as her run.

“Come again?” For her sake, he prayed she ‘d picked up on the barely concealed annoyance and went crawling back into the hole she slipped out of.

→ ABOUT YOU.

Previous Characters (if applicable): Lucy & the Mystery Gang.

How did you find us?: Google!


4
Elsewhere Accepted / Icarus Caelius Paladin
« on: 23/03/2014 at 19:48 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Icarus Caelius Paladin

Gender: Male

Age: 15 (b. 3 November 1925)

Bloodline: Pureblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Andromeda Paladin, deceased father (NPC)

Residence:
Palatine Hall, England - unplottable

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
No.

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so, who and for what IC reason?
No.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Lucille Hopland, Eleanor Xero, Morgan Ricardus, Wendela Lien

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Palatine Hall, ca. 1939

“It’s much too dangerous…”

“I say, leave him be.”

“….but he’s just a boy!”

Sharp, porcelain teeth glinted in the dim light as Icarus glared at his older brother from across the room. He wasn’t a child, he wasn’t six years old anymore, and he was damn sure he could make decisions for himself. The way they were treating him had nothing to do with how capable he was, nor his age, but instead of how absurd their beliefs were. They were bigger incompetent fools than he thought if they truly believed some squabble between Germany and the rest of the world would put his life in danger.

They underestimated him, they underestimated his school, and put them both on the same level as the little fairies that danced about at Hogwarts.

“I’m perfectly safe and you all know it.”

He ignored the look his mother shot him.

“I demand to go back.”

The silence that filled the room at his declaration was suffocating. It was like slowly, one by one, every single one of his relatives had a wrapped their gnarled hands around his throat and were slowly squeezing. It was the look in their eyes; one that said, back off and sit down before we strike. He was pushing it, he knew, but he couldn’t stop.

It was this obstinate need of his. He needed to push against; he needed to test their limits. It filled the urge within him that demanded he exert his power. Some say it’s because he’s the second male of the family. He saw it as knowing what he wanted and taking it.

"Stay silent, you foolish boy!"

“No, you keep quiet.” The words were uttered harshly, shockingly almost, and in stark contrast to the quiet, rushed tones they’d been speaking in.

His first mistake.

“None of you would understand what it’s like there, and you’d hardly even begin to comprehend what I’ve built up!” The connections he made would provide useful, and if nothing else, amusement in the years to come. What was there to offer at a school named as ridiculously as it was and with a reputation to match?

Underestimating. Presumptuous. His second mistake.

“Just because all of you were mindless enough to make the mistake of going to such a shi—“ Even he knew when he’d crossed the line, the sting to his cheek with just a painful reminder. His head tilted with the force of the hex, and the sensation of tiny little pinpricks spread all along his cheekbone. It was painful but he held his tongue, refusing to give them the satisfaction of crying out.

Third strike--

"It was not your right to attend Durmstrang, but a privilege. We are now rescinding that privilege because of your lack of appreciation of both it and the situation at hand."

The blood rushed up to his cheeks and he had to bite his tongue from making any noise of discomfort.

"You will be withdrawn from Durmstrang shortly. I expect you to make all the necessary preparations prior to your departure."

His fists clenched at his sides, but still he said nothing. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew when it was time to draw back.

"Once you return home, you shall live here, in the Hall, and share Pacifica and Paris' tutor for the time being. Is that understood?"

--and he was out.


 Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
He was waiting for a friend.

He didn’t come here to babysit. He hated kids. They sniveled, and they drooled, and they couldn’t contain their impulses. It was like attempting to reign in a degenerate who refused to listen and had the energy of a—well, a five year old.

What enticed him into agreeing to this impromptu meeting, he had no clue. And the location they agreed on seemed like a bigger toss-up than the fact that it was actually happening. Perhaps it was the way his friend asked, or the promise of long legs and a skirt way too—

Another squeal and Icarus watched, vaguely amused, as a tiny girl promptly dug the head of her broom in the dirt in one fell swoop. He didn’t think her tiny arms could be capable of such damage. She reminded him of his own sister in a way. But then again, Priscilla knew better than to act so boorish in public.

Icarus scoffed as he turned away, pale grey eyes searching for his companion until, finally, he spotted her. He took in her appearance rather rakishly, hand partially extended out in greeting. He didn’t get up from his position on the bench, however, choosing to make her come to him instead. She was used to it, had to be at this point; it wasn’t like it was the fir—

“You! Do you want to play?” There was squawking, loudly and in his ear, and Icarus could’ve sworn the child was farther away no less than two seconds ago. His beckoning hand dropped down to his lap, and his eyes snapped to the half buried broom behind her before trailing over her face.

“No.”

OTHER
How did you find us? Google!

5
Archived Applications / Lucille G. Hopland
« on: 31/07/2013 at 23:13 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Lucille Gemna Hopland

Birthday: May 2nd, 1928

Hometown: London, England

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): First Year (Preferred), Second Year

Biography:

Lucille was born to Agatha and Ruther Hopland on May 2nd in a sleepy town just along the border of Scotland and England. She was their first and only child, but was more than a handful for the usually, soft-spoken couple. Lucille, being born at a staggering 6 lbs. 4 ounces, was always slightly smaller than everyone her age. She bruised easily and because of the fairness of her skin the bruises showed quite clearly through all her clothing. Many of the adults who saw her as a child believed her parents were at fault for the bruises when in reality she could never sit still. Her outlet for her energy, and later her uncontrollable magic, was running around, climbing on things, exploring, and generally putting herself in danger. She was a brave child – that much was obvious – but also reckless and an accident-prone like you wouldn’t believe.

Lucille’s mother, Agatha, was a German muggle who met her father, Ruther, an Irish halfblood, while he was on an “intelligence gathering” mission for the Ministry of Magic in Germany. They fell in love in the middle of his mission and despite the dangers Ruther tried his best to spend as much time with her as he could before he returned to England. On the last day of his assignment he finally realized how much he needed her and convinced her to move to England with him. It’s safe to say a little over 6 months later the happy couple were married and settled in a small cottage in Bellingham, where in two years time Lucille would be born.

Her mother and father weren’t the wealthiest lot around; however, they worked hard before getting together and the substantial amount of money both their families left them allowed them to live comfortably, and spoil their only daughter to their heart’s content. (Within reason of course.) It’s safe to say she had her parents wrapped around her little fingers like no other. She learned early on in life that a simple puppy dog look, or a twirl of her ginger curls and a cheeky smile could have them bending over backwards for her. Her parents could be stern at times with her too, but for a little girl she could be just as persistent, if not more, when she wanted things to go her way. She was blunt too, preferring to get straight to the point than dawdle about meaningless things. “Wasting time that could be spent playing” is what she calls it. However, underneath that stubborn-mule personality she likes portray is an utterly innocent and pure-hearted little girl. One who knows nothing about the cruelty of the world she lives in and could be as ignorant as a newborn baby.

But, like all good things, her picture-perfect childhood came to a sudden end with the time warp.  When the year rolled back around to 1937 Lucille’s mother stayed in the present time, or “future”, and Lucille and her father were on their own. Lucille’s father was crippled by the loss of his wife and became a shell of his former self, slowly withdrawing day by day. It wasn’t until the middle of the summer in 1937, when Lucille’s paternal grandmother contacted them to make sure they were all right, did things start looking better. Once Annalise Hopland, a squib who got caught up in the warp, realized the terrible mental conditions her son and granddaughter were in she moved in with them to try to support them as they grieved the loss of Agatha. Although it didn’t show until a few weeks later, Lucille was relieved at having a mother figure in her life again, and slowly started coming out of her funk. She ate more, sulked less, and was becoming her exuberant self again.

Her father was a different story.

No matter what he tried he simply couldn’t get over the loss of his wife. And after making sure Lucille would be in good hands with his mother, her father quit his job at the Ministry, left all his money and possessions under her name (which she would gain full rights to once she turned eighteen), and left his mother a simple note:

Mum,

I’m sorry but I can’t go on without her. I leave Lucille in your hands. There’s enough money in her bank account for her school funds and the house is yours to do with it what you will. Don’t bother searching for me; I won’t be found.

I’m sorry,

Ruther

P.S Tell Lucy not to give you too much trouble. And give her a big kiss for me too, for both of us.


Lucille’s grandmother found the note first and tried to break the news to her as gently as possible, but she knew before the words even left her mouth. She had seen the way her father looked at her before she left for the day with her grandmother. His eyes held their usual grief but there was something else, something darker. She remembered feeling his arms hug her a little tighter than usual and she had hugged back just as hard thinking it was a game; who could squeeze the hardest?

During the weeks that followed, Lucille’s grandmother packed up their stuff, sold the cottage, and whisked them away to a small flat in Wizarding London where they currently reside today.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Gryffindor

Personality:

Lucille’s a bit of an odd ball. Let’s start by saying it’d be a miracle if you got her to sit still for more than fifteen minutes. She’s just one big ball of youthful energy and loathes being kept inside. She doesn’t quite know how she going to deal with her classes this coming term as the mere thought of sitting through hours of lectures gives her chills.

She’s adventurous and nosey curious, but those two traits and the fact that she can’t sit still all boil down to having too much freedom as a child. She’s been running around on her own ever since she was a toddler, easily getting into messy situations. Add to that a child’s uncontrollable magic and you have the cause of several broken bones, messed up gardens, frightened cats, and the wrinkles on her mother’s forehead.

She can also be very blunt with her words. She doesn’t mean to be of course, but the way it comes out, even with her childlike innocence, can get her in awkward predicaments with other people. And, if you couldn’t tell, she prefers actions to words, as not many people understand her utterly naïve outlook on life.

Appearance:

Lucille’s a small child. She’s below average height and weight for her age, but that by no means hinders her abilities or appearance.  She’s petite, as her grandmother would say, with fragile shoulders, a prominent collarbone, and skinny limbs. At the top of her head she has a generous amount of soft ginger curls that bounce, swish, and fly into her face with any sudden movements, and dark hazel eyes that at times look brown. She has a pale white complexion, with a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and a sense of style that drives her grandmother to tears.

Lucille likes to wear what she thinks feels best at the moment. Things like: dresses with vibrant colored patterns during the worst of occasions, mismatching socks, and (her personal favorite) boy trousers and shoes when going out to the park. She loves the practical-ness of the space between pant legs that dresses and skirts don’t provide. It really comes in handy for tree climbing, and boy’s shoes are heck of a lot more durable than her dainty little flats, too. Especially against the constant pounding on pavement, mud, and grass that she has them endure.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.

Lucille had seen the game, yes. She saw how badly of a mistake the Chaser made, yes. But was she furious that he’d cost their house the Quidditch Cup for the third year in a row? No, not really. She could hardly care less. She’d leave the mean words and death threats to the diehard Quidditch fans. To her the game was somewhat of a joke. Mainly because she was a hot-mess frightening sight a terror… a rather unstable force on a broomstick. And, of course their team would’ve liked to win another year in a row, but they’d already won twice. Wasn’t it time to let the other teams get a chance at the Cu—

A loud roar of victory erupted from the Champion table effectively pulling her out of her musings. Her housemates, who had long ago stopped attempting to involve her in the conversation, turned to glare at the opposing house simultaneously, then shot more daggers towards the direction of James’ hunched figure.

Maybe not.

She thought about going over there for a split second then quickly brushed that notion aside knowing she wasn’t ready to risk the wrath of her housemates. It was a selfish thought, yes, but at least she recognized what her housemates were doing was wrong and wasn’t partaking in the jeering.

”But if I were him I’d want someone to talk to me, too.” The thought filtered through her mind for a second, but the fear of being teased like him reared its head again.

”Wow, who knew you could be such a scaredy-cat, Luc?” With that she stood up abruptly—rattling the plates around her—at the same time James did and watched him hurriedly make his way out of the Hall. She followed after him and a few steps into her chase James whipped around so fast she jumped back in fright and put her hands up in mock surrender, then he proceeded to shout.

“WHAT! Haven’t you ever seen a loser before? Why don’t you just take a picture!”

Lucille was flustered. She didn’t know what to do, so she shouted right back.

“I’M SORRY!”

→ ABOUT YOU.

Previous Characters (if applicable): N/A

How did you find us?: Google/tumblr

<3



6
Elsewhere Accepted / Re: Lucille G. Hopland
« on: 16/06/2013 at 14:05 »
Sorry about that! Here's the edited piece:

E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character Name: Lucille Gemna Hopland

Gender: Female

Age: 11

Bloodline: Halfblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
NPC(s) – Agatha Hopland (née Ebersbach), Ruther Hopland, Annalise Hopland [Current Guardian]


Residence:
1102 Stonebroker Street, Second Floor, Flat #6, Wizarding London

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Nope, don’t think so.

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)

Lucille Hopland was born to Agatha and Ruther Hopland on May 2nd in a sleepy town just along the border of Scotland and England. She was their first and only child, but was more than a handful for the usually, soft-spoken couple. Lucille, being born at a staggering 6 lbs. 4 ounces, was always slightly smaller than everyone her age. She bruised easily and because of the fairness of her skin the bruises showed quite clearly through all her clothing. Many of the adults who saw Lucille as a child believed her parents were at fault for the bruises when in reality Lucille could never sit still. Her outlet for her energy, and later her uncontrollable magic, was running around, climbing on things, exploring, and generally putting herself in danger. She was a brave child – that much was obvious – but also reckless and an accident-prone like you wouldn’t believe.
 
Lucille’s mother, Agatha, was a German muggle who met Lucille’s father, Ruther, an irish halfblood, while he was on an “intelligence gathering” mission for the Ministry of Magic in Germany. They fell in love in the middle of his mission and despite the dangers Ruther tried his best to spend as much time with her as he could before he returned to England. On the last day of his assignment, he finally realized how much he needed her and convinced her to move to England with him. It’s safe to say a little over 6 months later the happy couple was married and settled in a small cottage in Bellingham, where two years later Lucille would be born.

Lucille’s mother and father weren’t the wealthiest lot around; however, they worked hard before getting together and the small amount of money both their families left them allowed them to live comfortably, and spoil their only daughter to their heart’s content. (Within reason of course.) Lucille had her parents wrapped around her little fingers like no other. She learned early on in life that a simple puppy dog look, or a twirl of her ginger curls and a cheeky smile could have them bending over backwards for her. Her parents could be stern at times with her too, but for a little girl she could be just as persistent, if not more, when she wanted things to go her way. She was blunt too, preferring to get straight to the point than dawdle about meaningless things. “Wasting time that could be spent playing” is what she calls it. However, underneath that stubborn-mule personality she likes portray is an utterly innocent and pure-hearted little girl. One who knows nothing about the cruelty of the world she lives in and could be as ignorant as a newborn baby.

But like all good things her picture-perfect childhood came to a sudden end with the time warp.  When the year rolled back around to 1937 Lucille’s mother stayed in the present time, or “future”, and Lucille and her father were on their own. Lucille’s father was crippled by the loss of his wife and became a shell of his former self, slowly withdrawing day by day. It wasn’t until the middle of the summer in 1937, when Lucille’s paternal grandmother contacted them to make sure they were all right, did things start looking better. Once Annalise Hopland, a squib who got caught up in the warp, realized the terrible mental conditions her son and granddaughter were in she moved in with them to try to support them as they grieved the loss of Agatha. Although it didn’t show until a few weeks later, Lucille was relieved at having a mother figure in her life again, and slowly started coming out of her funk. She ate more, sulked less, and was becoming her exuberant self again.

Her father was a different story.

No matter what he tried he simply couldn’t get over the loss of his wife. And after making sure Lucille would be in good hands with his mother, Lucille’s father quit his job at the Ministry, left all his money and possessions under her name (which she would gain full rights to once she turned eighteen), and left his mother a simple note:

Mum,

I’m sorry but I can’t go on without her. I leave Lucille in your hands. There’s enough money in her bank account for her school funds and the house is yours to do with it what you will. Don’t bother searching for me; I won’t be found.

I’m sorry,

Ruther

P.S Tell Lucy not to give you too much trouble. And give her a big kiss for me too, for both of us.


Lucille’s grandmother found the note first and tried to break the news to Lucille as gently as possible, but Lucille knew before the words even left her mouth. She had seen the way her father looked at her before she left for the day with her grandmother. His eyes held their usual grief but there was something else, something worse. She remembered feeling his arms hug her a little tighter than usual and she had hugged back just as hard thinking it was a game; who could squeeze the hardest?

During the weeks that followed, Lucille’s grandmother packed up their stuff, sold the cottage, and whisked them away to a small flat in Wizarding London where they currently reside.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:

There was only one thing on her mind as Lucille clambered down her favorite willow tree in Godric Park, the branches bending ominously as the little girl effortless made her way back to the ground. If she was someone else she would’ve been terrified of the fragile branches splitting right down the middle from her weight, but the trees had been there as long, if not longer, than she had. If nothing had managed to damage them before what would 60 lbs. extra do? Nothing. Besides Lucille had been climbing trees ever since she was a mere 6 years old. Nearly gave her mom a heart attack, but the view is always worth it.

Lucille let out a muffled gasp as one of her sneakers missed a branch and her whole body leaned back precariously.

“Focus Lou, you need to get home fast and breaking a leg won’t stop mamie’s wrath if we’re late again!” The young girl reprimanded herself under her breath, and once her feet hit solid ground she took off running. She had approximately two minutes to make it to the park’s entrance to meet her grandmother and the park entrance was a good quarter-mile away. If she sprinted the whole way she could probably make it, but sprinting a quarter mile was not on her to do list that day.

The sensation of something flapping against her shoe pulled her from her frantic thoughts and with a quick look down she realized her shoelace was untied. She reminded herself to not step on a pathway with potential tripping hazards and looked back up to see where she was going. Unfortunately for her by the time she did look up another figure was upon her.

“You!” The other girl said. “Do you want to play?”

“No! Watch out!” Lucille tried to pivot her body as to not crash into the girl as she ran past, but the girl’s sudden appearance and her own momentum proved to be too much for her. Her body tilted awkwardly and her hands flailed before she went crashing to the ground. A disgruntled noise left her lips as reached around to rub the sore spot on the back of her head. Her clumsy fingers prodded it harder than she would’ve liked and she winced at the sensation. That was definitely going to bruise.

OTHER
How did you find us? Google/Tumblr

7
Elsewhere Accepted / Lucille G. Hopland
« on: 16/06/2013 at 03:40 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character Name: Lucille Gemna Hopland

Gender: Female

Age: 11

Bloodline: Halfblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
NPC(s) – Agatha Hopland (née Ebersbach), Ruther Hopland, Annalise Hopland [Current Guardian]


Residence:
1102 Stonebroker Street, Second Floor, Flat #6, Wizarding London

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Nope, don’t think so.

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)

Lucille Hopland was born to Agatha and Ruther Hopland on May 2nd in a sleepy town just along the border of Scotland and England. She was their first and only child, but was more than a handful for the usually, soft-spoken couple. Lucille, being born at a staggering 6 lbs. 4 ounces, was always slightly smaller than everyone her age. She bruised easily and because of the fairness of her skin the bruises showed quite clearly through all her clothing. Many of the adults who saw Lucille as a child believed her parents were at fault for the bruises when in reality Lucille could never sit still. Her outlet for her energy, and later her uncontrollable magic, was running around, climbing on things, exploring, and generally putting herself in danger. She was a brave child – that much was obvious – but also reckless and an accident-prone like you wouldn’t believe.
 
Lucille’s mother, Agatha, was a German muggle who met Lucille’s father, Ruther, an irish halfblood, while he was on an “intelligence gathering” mission for the Ministry of Magic in Germany. They fell in love in the middle of his mission and despite the dangers Ruther tried his best to spend as much time with her as he could before he returned to England. On the last day of his assignment, he finally realized how much he needed her and convinced her to move to England with him. It’s safe to say a little over 6 months later the happy couple was married and settled in a small cottage in Bellingham, where two years later Lucille would be born.

Lucille’s mother and father weren’t the wealthiest lot around; however, they worked hard before getting together and the small amount of money both their families left them allowed them to live comfortably, and spoil their only daughter to their heart’s content. (Within reason of course.) Lucille had her parents wrapped around her little fingers like no other. She learned early on in life that a simple puppy dog look, or a twirl of her ginger curls and a cheeky smile could have them bending over backwards for her. Her parents could be stern at times with her too, but for a little girl she could be just as persistent, if not more, when she wanted things to go her way. She was blunt too, preferring to get straight to the point than dawdle about meaningless things. “Wasting time that could be spent playing” is what she calls it. However, underneath that stubborn-mule personality she likes portray is an utterly innocent and pure-hearted little girl. One who knows nothing about the cruelty of the world she lives in and could be as ignorant as a newborn baby.

But like all good things her picture-perfect childhood came to a sudden end with the time warp.  When the year rolled back around to 1937 Lucille’s mother stayed in the present time, or “future”, and Lucille and her father were on their own. Lucille’s father was crippled by the loss of his wife and became a shell of his former self, slowly withdrawing day by day. It wasn’t until the middle of the summer in 1937, when Lucille’s paternal grandmother contacted them to make sure they were all right, did things start looking better. Once Annalise Hopland, a squib who got caught up in the warp, realized the terrible mental conditions her son and granddaughter were in she moved in with them to try to support them as they grieved the loss of Agatha. Although it didn’t show until a few weeks later, Lucille was relieved at having a mother figure in her life again, and slowly started coming out of her funk. She ate more, sulked less, and was becoming her exuberant self again.

Her father was a different story.

No matter what he tried he simply couldn’t get over the loss of his wife. And after making sure Lucille would be in good hands with his mother, Lucille’s father quit his job at the Ministry, left all his money and possessions under her name (which she would gain full rights to once she turned eighteen), and left his mother a simple note:

Mum,

I’m sorry but I can’t go on without her. I leave Lucille in your hands. There’s enough money in her bank account for her school funds and the house is yours to do with it what you will. Don’t bother searching for me; I won’t be found.

I’m sorry,

Ruther

P.S Tell Lucy not to give you too much trouble. And give her a big kiss for me too, for both of us.


Lucille’s grandmother found the note first and tried to break the news to Lucille as gently as possible, but Lucille knew before the words even left her mouth. She had seen the way her father looked at her before she left for the day with her grandmother. His eyes held their usual grief but there was something else, something worse. She remembered feeling his arms hug her a little tighter than usual and she had hugged back just as hard thinking it was a game; who could squeeze the hardest?

During the weeks that followed, Lucille’s grandmother packed up their stuff, sold the cottage, and whisked them away to a small flat in Wizarding London where they currently reside.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:

There was only one thing on her mind as Lucille clambered down her favorite willow tree in Godric Park, the branches bending ominously as the little girl effortless made her way back to the ground. If she was someone else she would’ve been terrified of the fragile branches splitting right down the middle from her weight, but the trees had been there as long, if not longer, than she had. If nothing had managed to damage them before what would 60 lbs. extra do? Nothing. Besides Lucille had been climbing trees ever since she was a mere 6 years old. Nearly gave her mom a heart attack, but the view is always worth it.

Lucille let out a muffled gasp as one of her sneakers missed a branch and her whole body leaned back precariously.

“Focus Lou, you need to get home fast and breaking a leg won’t stop mamie’s wrath if we’re late again!” The young girl reprimanded herself under her breath, and once her feet hit solid ground she took off running. She had approximately two minutes to make it to the park’s entrance to meet her grandmother and the park entrance was a good quarter-mile away. If she sprinted the whole way she could probably make it, but sprinting a quarter mile was not on her to do list that day.

The sensation of something flapping against her shoe pulled her from her frantic thoughts and with a quick look down she realized her shoelace was untied. She reminded herself to not step on a pathway with potential tripping hazards and looked back up to see where she was going. Unfortunately for her by the time she did look up another figure was upon her.

“You!” The other girl said. “Do you want to play?”

“No! Watch out!” Lucille tried to pivot her body as to not crash into the girl as she ran past, but the girl’s sudden appearance and her own momentum proved to be too much, knocking both girls to the ground in a pile of limbs. “Geez Louise, what is your head made out of?!” Lucille brushed the other girl’s foot off her shoulder and reached around to rub the sore spot on the back of her head. Her clumsy fingers prodded it harder than she would’ve liked and she winced at the sensation, letting out a disgruntled noise. That was definitely going to bruise.

OTHER
How did you find us? Google/Tumblr

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