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Messages - Snow Märchen

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OOC Landmarks:
31/05/2016
→ Application accepted! Link!

IC Landmarks:
07/01/1934
→ Snow Märchen is born in the early hours of the morning.
08/01/1934
→ Eva Märchen passes away, weakened from childbirth.
15/12/1944
→ Snow visits Germany for the first time and meets Aleida Rosenfeld.
27/06/1945
→ Boreas Märchen remarries to Aleida.
30/12/1946
→ Boreas Märchen passes away due to illness.

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Elsewhere Accepted / snow märchen | elswhere child
« on: 30/05/2016 at 17:28 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Snow Märchen.

Gender: Male.

Age: Fourteen (14).

Bloodline: Halfblood.

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Boreas & Eva Märchen (NPCs, deceased),  Aleida Märchen (NPC, current guardian).

Residence:
Port Talbot, Wales.

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:
Rin Hunter et al.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
There once was a fair gentlewoman, Eva Märchen who, on January 8th, 1934, closed her eyes for the final time. Her husband, a kind and loving man, weeped with great anguish—the baby he clutched to his chest, barely a day old, found greater interest in the flurry of white that drifted to the ground outside.

They said he looked liked his mother, with a pallor that matched his name and features as soft as the snow that’d fell that day, but they wouldn’t show him the pictures (Snow was too entranced with the thought of sharing something with the woman he never knew to doubt their claims).

Though his parents had immigrated from the wintry lands of Germany, it wasn’t until the age of ten when Snow saw it through his own eyes; there he met the woman who would soon be his stepmother. Childhood friend of both his parents,  Aleida was a dream come true; she told him about mother, answered his questions, and smiled fondly whenever she saw a trace of her dear friend in him. The marriage, though surprising, wasn't completely unexpected, and though the newly-wed couple never acted as anything more than the friends they’d always been, they were happy.

It was Winter when Boreas passed due to illness, something the man had been expecting, the reason he called over Aleida in the first place. She’d cried, and so had he. It didn’t snow that time, but the cold made up for it.

He didn’t notice Aleida’s doleful looks, or the tears behind her smile. Even if the stories lessened, grew hasty and vague over time, she guarded him from the grim claws of immediate relatives starving for part of his fortune. He was grateful, undoubtedly, though he couldn’t help but suspect her efforts weren’t for his sake. The fortune had belonged to his parents, after all.

He was thirteen when he broke the mirror—treasured possession; one of the few existing pieces his mother. In his defense, he would say, it had been unwisely kept in such a place that such mischance was inevitable, but she didn’t see it that way (he could tell in the taut line of her mouth, the stiffness of her hands as she picked up the shard).

Aleida didn’t shout, nor make so much as a sound, her teary gaze burned into the empty frame and remained there even as he fled.

What he'd assumed to be a bad mood never passed,  Aleida remained frigid and it was then he realised her love had been nothing more than a favour for an old friend. Her charade was as now put together as his mother’s mirror, and Snow found himself avoiding her whenever he could.

He’d rise during the early hours of dawn and busy himself with trifling chores and tasks before locking himself up in his room (or within the cottage walls of his kindly great aunt, where he surrounded himself in the distant cousins that might as well have been siblings). By day, he would smile, laugh, lose himself in charming reveries with a sketchbook in his lap, whispering faint melodies; dreading nightfall, when he’d crumple under the weight of his own apprehensions and anxieties.

Every day this would repeat, Snow was caught in his own blizzard, left wondering about escapes he would never dare to execute.

And they all lived happily ever after.

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 one of those rare occasions where he wasn't in the company of his cousins nor the four walls of his room. The open space without anyone else to lessen his unease, leaving Snow only able to seek comfort in the pages of his sketchbook. Flicking past pages covered in scrawls differing in shades of grey, he stopped, and in that moment caught sight of an unfortunate child.

Rather than feel any sort of sympathy, his first thought was spent musing on what a good reference she'd make.

His pencil moved across the paper with hasty strokes, marking out the form of the grounded girl. Of course, he could have found models in the other Märchen children, but he strongly doubted Goose or Bette would be able to stay still for anything more then a minute or so.

"You!"

Snow jolted in his seat, slamming the sketchbook shut as his pencil fell clumsily to the ground. Caught, was his immediate suspicion as he felt her gaze land on him.

"...Do you want to play?"

Relief eased the tension from his shoulders, and his went went to pick up the pencil. Just about able to suppress a sigh at the sight of the snapped lead, he attention went back to the girl. No, was what he wanted to say, but a compelling force, guilt (even if there was no apparent reason for it) forced the complete opposite out of his mouth, albeit hesitantly.

"Sure..?"

OTHER
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