E L S E W H E R E T E E N
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name: Luciana Giorgia Rossi
Gender: Female
Age: 16 (Born 17 April 1936)
Bloodline:Pureblood
Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): Giorgio Rossi & Alessia Valentino (NPCs)
Residence: Born in Milano, Italy; Grew up in Arcachon, France (Attended Beauxbatons); Now living in London, England
Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?Nope!
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason? Non.
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:Lyra Spencer & Co.
Biography: (100 words minimum.)A torn paperback journal that looks as if it has seen more destruction than it should have during its years of life. Pages that were once crisp and white are now folded, ripped, marked with dark smudges, and generally mangled beyond recognition. Its jacket is grey, though it was definitely not that hue when bought.
On the cover is written a messy string of words: LUcianalucielulucluciELUCE Rossi. Ne touche pas!
The first page (Written in scratchy handwriting, corrections in red):Je prends
Tu prends
Il/Elle prend
Nous
prendrons prenons
Vous pren
nez
Elles prennent
Non capisco il francese!*
9 décembre 1947: Today, I broke a bone. Not mine, someone elses. Maxence Marquet was absolutely unbearable and I jumped onto his arm after he called me names.
(In half-erased letters, but still discernible:) Salaud...**
Madame made me get rid of that
The majority of the rest of the journal is filled with a mess of words (in Italian, French, and English), corrections, doodles, and poor punctuation. Random newspaper clippings are used as bookmarks.6 luglio*** 1949: (A blurry photograph of the Milan Cathedral is stuck in here): Mamma told me I wouldn't find my "padre buono a nulla"^ here. Good. I don't want to find him. Mamma is nice to me and puts up with all my, uh, energy. Who knows what my papà would be like?
1 septembre 1949: Maxence Marquet still hates me.
2 septembre 1949: Béatrice was completely shocked when I told her that Maxence and I kissed.
25 décembre 1949 (Smudged with chocolate stains): I ate an entire buche de noël and now I can't sit still for more than twenty seconds. Mamma's hiding me from her friends, but I can't stay in my room forever!
2 janvier 1950: I already broke my New Year's resolution. I just can't help writing in Italian on my homework!
17 avril 1950 (A sketch of a curly-haired boy is stuffed here): I gave myself a drawing of Maxence for my birthday, because I think I'm in love with him. And I think Théo likes me, but
his eyebrows are too bushy for my liking he's not my type.
In other news, Mamma told me this morning that we're moving to England at the end of the year since Papà resurfaced there supposedly and finally wants to live with us. Which I don't understand because I thought she never wanted to find him! This does mean I should confess my love for Maxence as soon as possible though. Buona fortuna a me!^^
19 avril 1950: I finally got the courage to tell Maxence. In front of my whole class. He didn't say anything at first, so I was worried he still hated me for breaking his arm. But then he told me we could try the whole dating thing and I said ok. But I don't know, he didn't sound so sure.
4 mai 1950: We broke up. He kept on talking about how his arm was never the same after being broken.
30 décembre 1950: I didn't write until now because I was so sad about Maxence, but today's the day I'm leaving for England. I said bye to everyone I know at Beauxbatons, even Maxence and the few other boys I snogged (I learned that's how they say it in England) after him.
4 janvier 1951: I don't know why Mamma didn't just apparate us but we're finally here. It's a lot colder. And plainer, and Papà's not even here. We got a letter from him saying he was in Australia and would come back later.
19 April 1952: Homeschooling has been nice, and I made friends with the neighbours Archie and Imogen. They're the only ones who don't make fun of my accent If you ask me their accents are funnier.
I still haven't met Papà.
The journal ends there. For now.
* I don't understand French!
** Bastard...
*** July
^ "good-for-nothing father"
^^ Good luck to me!
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:It was impossible for Luciana to sit still for more than thirty seconds; homeschooling was, unsurprisingly, a struggle. Luckily, a daily trip to the park managed to calm her down by just a bit, mostly because she expended so much energy there. But it was indeed a wonder that she remained jumpy and hyper when she returned home. Her mother certainly couldn't understand, but she did her best to appease her daughter.
That day was no different.
The lively girl had roamed through the playground and field of grass at least three times, literally bouncing from one thing to the next. Even the three screaming boys on broomsticks and the shrieking girl that accompanied them couldn't phase her. By the end, she had passed a whopping ten minutes, though it had felt like forever to her. "Oh là là," she exclaimed exasperatedly to herself after checking her watch.
Pausing for a moment, Luciana finally noticed the line of broomsticks and flew towards them, completely ignoring (not purposely) the desperate little girl who trudged behind them. Luciana waved her arms at them, "Je veux jouer! Je veux- I mean, I want to play!" (She really needed to get used to speaking English and not French or Italian). The girl was unable to gauge if the boys acknowledged her or not as she was startled by a bark from behind her.
"You!" Luciana turned, eyes roaming, to find a much younger girl that did not at all match the voice she'd heard. Pointing at herself, the older girl asked, "Qui? Moi?"
Arrêtez, arr- Stop it! Stop it!"...Do you want to play?" A wide smile broadened on Luciana's face as she hastened towards the little girl, who was not as scary as she had originally seemed. "Bien sûr! Uh, of course!" Turning, she sprinted off in the opposite direction. "Come on! I'll race you to the edge and back!"
OTHERHow did you find us?
The magic of Google
