Name: Cicily Horne
Birthday: November 12th
Hometown: London, England
Bloodline: Pureblood
Magical Stregnth: Charms
Magical Weakness: Potions
Year: 1st or 2nd
Biography: Cicily was born and raised in a cozy house with an average amount of space that looked much tinier than it really was, due to the fact that almost every surface was covered in odd scraps of paper. At an early age Cicily started drawing. She drew all sorts of things girls normally drew: flowers, her mum and dad, her house, more flowers, and random objects lying around the house. Before Hogwarts she had been homeschool (of course) to save her family from any uncomfortable explanations about why the play structure had blown up... Before the age of seven, Cicily was rather impartial to Hogwarts, until she heard about Quidditch of course. From then on, she had been counting the days until she would finally receive her letter and start a new page in her life..
House Request: Griffendor
Personality: Cicily was a sweet and gentle girl most of the time but occasionally her fiery temper would get the better of her and she would be suddenly convinced that no one liked her. Side affects of being lonely of course.
Appearance: She has thick curly, silvery blonde hair and grey-green eyes. She is slightly below average in build and average in height.
Sample Roleplay:
Cicily "ooh-ed" as the boy missed the shot from about ten feet away. He looked dumbstruck and he lowered his broom down to the ground numbly. Cicily turned to leave, feeling a slight twinge of pity for him. As she walked across the grass, small groups of people surrounded her, all of then talking animatedly about the match. She frowned slightly and ignored the conversations that hovered in the still evening air. The student at Hogwarts were nice enough, Cicily thought grimly, but when it comes to Quidditch they blame anyone they can get their hands on. She sighed and stepped into the Great Hall and took a seat at the table, staring down at the golden plates. Cicily looked up and glimpsed the boy who missed the shot. His head was pressed firmly against the table and he looked like he was about to cry. Yet another stab of pity burst through her. Well at least it's not me, she thought as she pushed him from her mind and focused on having a reasonably nice rest of the evening.
Previous Characters: N/A
How did you find us: Google
