E L S E W H E R E C H I L D
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name:Viktoria Yuliana Borovsky
Виктория Юлиана Боровский
Gender:Female
Age:Seventeen
Bloodline:Pureblood
Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): Viktor Borovsky, Father. (Adoptable)
Anzhelina Borovsky, Mother. (Adoptable)
Residence: Borovsky Place, Buckinghamshire, England
Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?Hogwarts
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason? Just an addition to the already rampant Borovsky's!
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:Zailey Petrova, Blondelle Chantrice, Helena Lisbeth, Carmine van der Berg, Pergerine White, Jezebel Morgenstern (Pending Elsewhere Adult Character)
Biography: (100 words minimum.)В экстренном случае
(
In Case of Emergency)
Меня зовут Виктория Юлиана Боровский и если вы читаете this..then я мертв.
(
My name is Viktoria Yuliana Borovsky and if you are reading this..then I'm dead.)
It was nineteen-thirty-eight when we absconded from Russia at the request of Grandmama. I was a scared ten-year-old child who knew nothing of the world and everything of the Mother Land; I was naive to think we would ever go back to the hallowed halls of Borovsky Castle. What I wouldn't give to go back to a time that was simpler and kinder than the one now.
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Grandmama speaks often, and fondly, of my birth. I think she enjoys recalling the day her favorite grandchild became a reality; I mean, it's no secret how much she adores me. I've seen the disdain in their eyes, when Vlad and Ana and Valen bear witness to the change in Grandmama when I'm around. I have, and always will be, the favorite; it's my prerogative.
When we arrived in Buckinghamshire, I remember looking at our new home with the same disdain. England would never measure up to the Mother Land; where we once had forests of dark and enchanting secrets, we now had fields and an openness that I would never grow accustom to. The happiest moment of my life in England was the day Durmstrang sent for me.
I was, no I am, a Daughter of the Blood. It was always my destiny to attend the school of my line; like my very namesake, I am of the Purest. I left behind my beloved Grandmama; her words were like ice in my veins and I knew that no matter what happened, or where I went, I would always remember.
Смерть Перед бесчестияDurmstrang had become my new home and Eastern Europe was my playground. The war had gradually started to build around us; Japan unleashed hell on America at the end of nineteen-forty-one and in nineteen-forty-two I was summoned back to the Borovsky homestead in Buckinghamshire.
It was in nineteen-forty-three that I joined Vlad and Ana at Hogwarts; the war still raging all around us and I was in the Great Hall eating at a table clad in emerald and silver. Where I had excelled at Durmstrang, I was considered behind at Hogwarts. I can still see the smug looks on Vlad and Ana's faces when they realized I was officially the same year as them.
I started writing and reading poetry to keep their images out of my mind and the longing for the Mother Land and Durmstrang from my heart. I have never felt so alone, even among family, as I do here. I'll keep my head up though, and continue to write Grandmama as she requested, because I'm a Borovsky and the favorite. It's my prerogative.
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:The sun hung high above the horizon; golden-white beams of light permeated through the gaps of a spotted tree canopy, the trickle of leaves in the wind becoming shadow dancers on the pages of the book Viktoria had precariously balanced on the knobs of her knees. A gentle breeze whipped around the park and blades of grass carefully bent to the will of the wind as it passed over; tendrils of dark-chocolate-colored hair waved in the wind like the Soviet flag over war-torn Stalingrad. A pair of emerald green eyes peered up from a dusty tome to survey the area surrounding the Borovsky adolescent, as the scream of a child for her brother ricocheted off the trunks of oak trees through Godric Park.
Gently, two ivory hands clasped the front and rear cover of the book together, and stowed the worn novel away in the depths of a ebony bag. "YOU!" As quickly as she had been addressed, Viktoria looked up from her momentary distraction and towards the direction of the shrill-voiced child. "Me?" she inquired, her tone light as the young girl continued. "Do you want to play?" The question rolled around her mind as she seriously considered it; hadn't she come here to enjoy the simplicity and usual solidarity of Godric park? What interest did she have in playing with a mere child anyway?
Viktoria shook her head from side to side, in response. "I'm not interested in playing your games," she countered, a smile forming across her face. "I do have another idea though.." As she carefully rose from her seat against one of the many solid oaks, she used one hand to grab the bag that had been seated beside her. The feel of supple leather in her palms calmed her, even reminded her of the saddles back home; stringing it up and over her torso, she beckoned to the young girl. "Come.."
OTHER
How did you find us? Other
