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Elsewhere Accepted / Quincy Stanhope - returning Adult
« on: 14/08/2014 at 23:02 »E L S E W H E R E A D U L T
CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Quincy Mairead Stanhope
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Education:
Hardknocks and the real-world (mostly uneducated, receiving only self-study in magic during her school-age years)
Residence:
Where ever she can get a job
Occupation
Kitchen maid, Cook’s apprentice, House-maid, or Personal-maid, she has fulfilled such positions with care and respect
Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
no
Requested Magic Levels:
- Charms: 6
- Divination: 8
- Transfiguration: 6
- Summoning: 12
nope
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Marty-boy, EWT, and my perpetually-worried Michael
Biography: (300 words minimum.)
She had lived through an exceptionally unfair existence, or that was how she’d trudged through her teen years believing. Lately, Quinn didn’t know what to think.
There were holes in her childhood memory and no matter what she did, how hard she tried, she could not fill that void. Sometimes, all she wanted was to remember that her childhood was some tragic thing filled with pain and finally abandonment, simply so that she might let go of the missing. Unfortunately she could only recollect some vague gossamer-like happiness with blank figures that emanated love and acceptance.
That was what hurt the most. Quincy, although she could not know it, had been happy and loved and still she clung to that which she did not have even as a successful young woman of many skills. It still haunted her, that life she could not hold onto in those waking moments after dreaming; that her family had been impoverished yet supportive, she’d had a beau whom she was painfully smitten with, and she had sibling a plenty that she cherished. All of that had been wiped from the slate, leaving her wandering the streets one night, searching for safety, only to find a crazy sounding woman and her statements of certainty.
At sixteen, Quincy Stanhope began her life, and what a cruel and confusing one it was.
The years marched on and with them came all manner of new terms and beliefs and lessons and hardships. For a time, her life was solidly based at Haute-Marne, even though she’d felt lost among the mountains and hills of the Austrian countryside. She didn’t belong but she had no other place to go. Quincy learned a great deal while under the employ of Mistress Malthus, a strange and distant woman who had always seemed about as comfortable at the manor as Quinn had felt. In her free time she honed the strange threads of magical ability that had decided to take earnest hold of her that fateful first wakening of 1937.
It was, for all intents and purposes, a painful learning process to find a place as the kitchen maid while juggling the awkward blossoming of magic. It felt as though the days, weeks and months went by in slow fashion as she learned to control rogue magical outbursts while spending her days and evenings completing her mountain of duties. Quinn’s time at Haute-Marne felt the equivalent of years, because only there had she begun to develop solid memories to replace her faulty childhood ones. Yet the reality of it was, tragedy befell too swift and that particular chapter in Quincy’s life was short-lived.
The still young girl was displaced a second time as the manor fell to forces unknown to Quincy. For a time she tried to keep in touch with the other employees of the manor, to those individuals that she’d been forced to rely on for structure and instruction, buy one by one she lost them all either to another world or the ending of them.
Quincy bounced from job to job as she made her way back to Britain. As milkmaid and housemaid, sometimes elevated to lady’s maid, Quinn moved over the countryside, London calling to her as if she were merely a slab of steel attracted by natural force. She couldn’t remember it, not clearly, but the outlying lands of London were where she belonged, was where she’d grown and experienced a happy existence.
London was different than she remembered… then again, she couldn’t truly remember it. It was dirty and lately it had experienced a bombardment of destruction. Wizarding London wasn’t much better, but there was always an air of perfection within its heart, as if nothing could dare touch it. Quinn had fallen into employment as a maid once again and from it she was marginally protected from the outside world, but she was a muggleborn and times weren’t too accepting of such a state.
She was conflicted of course about such a reality because she had worked for wizards and muggle alike. A job, was a job, which was something those pampered purebloods didn’t realize. On the other hand, she cared little for the well-being of any employer she’d worked under, be they pureblood or muggle or anything in between. They all had similar desires and ugly tendencies in regard to their help.
Although… mistress Malthus… she’d given Quinn a place to begin again, and missed the woman for that.
The conflict Quincy felt was in the fact that her paycheck, her own livelihood depended upon those upperclassman that could afford, that had the right and the means to employ, servants.
It was all too confusing at times. Everything. Her childhood memories riddled with holes that left only the shining glimmer of what she’d lost, the life lessons that came with servitude to people that rarely appreciated hard work, and the unfair admonishment of being born into a state of being that too many considered was akin to filth. Quinn was still young and yet she saw no future for herself lacking pitfalls and strife. It was a pitiful way to go about one’s day, but that was how she progressed; one foot in front of the other, wondering if life would ever look sweet.
Roleplay:
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:
Option Two -
The snow had been falling steadily all morning and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Joshua Campbell scrunched his face up in a frown as he lifted his gaze to look to the sky. Snow. It really was quite a bother.
And it certainly didn't make it better that Diagon Alley seemed to be getting more and more crowded. Joshua sighed and pointed his wand at the large box that was currently placed on the doorstep of his shop. He had to get going. He had an order to deliver.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" The elderly man muttered and watched the box hover in the air for a moment. Honestly, did St. Mungo's really need that much tinsel? And with glitter of all things? He sighed again. If it hadn't been for the rather convincing stamp on the order, he would have been likely to believe it had been a prank by one of those orphaned rascals living up there.
Oh well, there was no point in waiting. Joshua deftly stirred the box down the doorstep and out onto the street, carefully levitating it above the heads of the crowd.
"Coming through! Coming through!" His voice sounded over the chatter of the crowd. "Keep out! Move ahead! Go on!" This was going way too slow. People were in the way and walking like they had all day! He huffed. Luckily the road was down hill.
"Coming through! Coming th--- arrrgh!" Joshua let out a loud shout as his feet suddenly slipped in the snow and sent him, the box, and several long strands of tinsel tumbling into the person who had been walking in front of him.
"For Merlin's sake!" Joshua muttered angrily as he hurried to his feet again, red and gold tinsel now decorating his black coat. "I am so sorry! This blasted snow!" He looked apologetic at the person he had crashed into.
Roleplay Response:
Winter; cold and bleak with color stripped from even the unmovable forms. Greens gave way, warm tones disappeared, and even the oranges of brick were blurred behind the falling of snow. It wasn’t Quinn’s favorite time of year, especially since she’d never filled much past the thin curveless figure of her teen years. The winter child cut her deep unless she took care to layer her clothing and she just so happened to have been in a rush. She forgot her overcoat and running was the only way to stay warm.
Unfortunately, running was nearly impossible in the throng of people on the walkway. Quincy heard the demands of a man in front of her as she pushed past humanity but she only barely paid him any mind. Her thoughts were on cold seeping through her layers of clothing and cutting to her bone, making movement itself tricky. She knew better than to forget her coat, but her mind had been elsewhere and like a foolish child she set out on errands without consideration to the world around her.
Quincy was apparently hoping to continue the habit as she suddenly realized the man’s voice and the man’s person was all too close to her own. How she had pushed past him was a mystery to her, but that was beside the point as tinsel and boxes fell around her.
Quinn braced herself for blunt edges and closed her eyes as she too tripped up and found herself stalled in the middle of hurried footfalls and aggravated murmurs.
When she opened her eyes and turned, she found the man apologizing and complaining of snow. A few strands of auburn hair fell across her face as her features transitioned from mousy pain to sympathetic care.
“Is all’right, mister. All m’fault, really.” She said quickly, falling into tone she used with her masters and mistresses often.
“I can ‘elp you, least I can do.” She offered, hoping he wasn’t angry with her.
OTHER
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