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Messages - Elspeth Honora Battersea

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Elsewhere Accepted / Elspeth Honora Battersea
« on: 02/01/2013 at 17:44 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Elspeth Honora Battersea
Gender: Female
Age: 18

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw), 1931-1935
Beauxbatons Academy, 1935-1937

Peeblesshire, Scotland

Occupation:**If you are planning to work at St. Mungo's, please fill out the St. Mungo's application here instead.
Freelance writer and editor

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?

Requested Magic Levels: (see here on how to do this)
If you want levels above the usual 32 total, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.
  • Charms: 6
  • Transfiguration: 6
  • Divination: 5
  • Summoning: 10
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Hero Savage.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Dear Mother,

This confession will come of no surprise to you. At least, I should hope not. You must forgive Ethan for the part he has played for he did it out of love, or at least some warped sense of familial responsibility. Of course, you have forgiven him already, haven't you? In any case, it is true. I have runaway like a common place gypsy, abandoned my education, lost all hope for a natural, direct future and am all the happier for it.

Immediately I must tell you that I am not going to reveal my whereabouts to you. All I will say is that I am quite safe and quite wretchedly so. One day I might even come to visit you. Do not worry, I shall ensure that a great deal of time elapses before I do so. I no more desire your wrath than I do your general persona. Therefore, I shall endeavour to stay away so long as that my disappearance at this time is quite forgotten and only hazy memories of some better experience remain. How long that will be I do not know. No doubt, I will only know when it happens and feel some pain for it.

I hope you do not feel in any way responsible for this turn of events. I can assure you quite wholeheartedly that it was entirely of my own intelligent design. Of course, one might say that if you hadn't shipped me off to that god forsaken school, I might have been more inclined to finish out my years. Alas, you insisted the continent. I will tell you one thing for certain, Beauxbatons must have changed significantly from when you were a girl as I cannot fathom le cordon bleu as having ever been an actual school subject until the miserable modernists came along. I will blame your ignorance on this matter as part of the catalyst, however I know you simply dreamed of better things for me.

Believe now, Mother, that things will indeed be better for me. This is not an absolute truth. I plan to be a writer of some sort and thus will tread a fine line of either ecstatic success or the gutter. Truthfully, given I am not sure as to what type of writer I will be, the former scenario is looking more probable. However I will not dash your hopes with any further musing upon the subject. All you must really know is that I will try, occasionally, to do something with my life.

Be assured that I think of you often and miss you sometimes in my darker and more lonelier hours.

Tell Oliver to stay out of my room. I know he's been in there. I have an all-seeing eye.

Tell Daddy I miss him. He is, of course, the one I love best of all.


Roleplay: (If you are requesting Exceptional levels - above 32 total - please respond to the roleplay and questions here instead)
Reply as your character to the following:

It was impossible for Dianne to stay out of trouble. It wasn't that she was looking for trouble, it's just that trouble always managed to find her. Today she wished she could find something equally familiar but more comforting.

The five-year old girl hugged her puffskein closer to her and brushed her face in its soft fur for comfort. She had named him herself and he was always her special pet. No she was certain she had never gone down this side street before. Her anxiety increased every second as darkness fell as she walked down the road. A loud noise came to her left and she buried her face in her pet's fur completely. The scared girl bolted the opposite way slamming the both of them into the wall of the nearest building. Tottering back a few steps she found a door a few feet to her right and ran to open it. What light there was inside spilled out into the darkness and she spilled into the room.

Once in, she was caught between the impulse to curl her cloak up more tightly around her and loosen her grip on it. She wasn't alone anymore but she was now among strangers instead, which was nearly as terrifying. Her puffskein had recovered from the shock of the wall and now was purring contentedly as the girl hugged it, causing a mildly calming effect on the girl. Gathering her courage, she marched up to the nearest person, pulled on the nearest clothing hem and blurted out in a loud voice:

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home."

She paused to draw a breath in her nearly never-ending sentence, "He misses my and his mommy."

To explain the scared girl held up the custard-colored puffskein. Sambundeakin the puffskein, however simply purred as if nothing on earth was wrong in the world.

Roleplay Response:

D had requested that Elspeth please go to the shops for once.

Which meant, honestly, that D had told Elspeth to go to the shops for once.

It made no sense to Elspeth, who sighed languidly as she picked up a jar of pickled doxy wings, not bothering to read the label, and threw it in her basket. Surely it was the job of house elves or at least the garden boy to fetch what they needed, and no effort was really required on her part. Unfortunately, it was put upon as a matter of insistence by her aunt which, when coupled with the jobs unnecessity, hinted to to Elspeth that perhaps it wasn't a job at all but rather a way to get her out of the house.

Elspeth quickly disregarded the thought. Ridiculous.

As it was, she did in fact require a few bits and pieces, some of which Eve had failed to send on request by owl but namely those items which Elspeth didn't really need at all. Like another new velvet enshrined diary. Or the new leather lace up boots she now wore on her feet. Or the large, now half-empty packet of cockroach clusters and ice mice that sat in her shoulder bag.

A few bits and pieces, but not much.

Again, Elspeth sighed, fingers once more slipping to a jar and its anonymous contents. If she was truthful, she was getting quite sick of the little cottage in Peeblesshire. It was not simply the contents of a cranky aunt that dissipated its charm, but also the fact it was quite isolated, if not practically remote. With Eve now back at school, Elspeth found her days to be quite empty once again. No manner of reading, writing or violin practise seemed to make up for that, Elspeth even going so far as to try and make friends with the garden boy Greg. Though he was kind enough, and even witty enough to make her laugh occasionally, he was, unfortunately, a muggle.

Not much more could be said.

Elspeth was musing upon this very association when she felt, quite suddenly, a sturdy tug at the side of her slacks. Not soon after, a boisterous voice floated up in proclamations of distress and anxiety. Looking down Elspeth found, quite to her annoyance, a young girl, standing in her way. Under her arm sat a tiny, yellow coloured puffskein who despite its owners apparent fears, seemed quite at peace.

"Why on earth would you be so silly as to lose yourself?" Elspeth asked quite simply, though not bothering to see if the girl comprehended. Elspeth had, in general, very little time for young children unless they were a product of some relation or particularly good looking and well behaved. From what she could see, this little one was neither. Yet she was not so cold hearted as to turn it away, and thus stood, half in confusion, half in authority, arms still slung into her basket.

"Where did you come from then?"

Archived Applications / Re: Elspeth Honora Battersea
« on: 23/12/2011 at 15:05 »

Elspeth wasn't fond of quidditch. Never had been. It didn't quite make sense seeing as she was both pureblood and Scottish. Edinburgh could take the sport very seriously at times. Yet the idea of chasing balls around had never appealed to her, funnily enough.

As such, the Ravenclaw girl had not been at the match that day. Rather, she had spent her time quietly curled up in the Common Room, book in her lap and head resting on her curled up fist. She had only broken her reverie to stretch her legs and pop down to the kitchens for a cup of tea. Nor had she encountered anyone since the game had ended, her only contact being as she walked past a bunch of laughing students as she made her way to the Great Hall. Thus she had no idea about the upset.

She was quite upset about the mud however.

It was the fact it was in footprints. Not even that. They were dirty little smears all over the floor. She didn't think twice about following the boy and informing him he should go take a shower. However, just as she caught up with him, he rounded on her.

"WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture!"

Elspeth froze in her steps, though not before a heavy frown screwed up her features. She was not accustomed to being talked to in such tones and did not think well of anyone who did. It was impolite.

"Well, I never."

Her eyes narrowed unkindly as she judged the boy from head to toe. He was absolutely filthy and still dressed in quidditch robes. Elspeth's nose wrinkled. Disgusting.

"Don't you realise you have change rooms?" she spat in return.

Archived Applications / Elspeth Honora Battersea
« on: 23/12/2011 at 14:41 »

Name: Elspeth Honora Battersea.

Former Character's Name (if you had one): Mr. Floobles

House Request:Ravenclaw. She has a thirst for knowledge that has been apparent from a young age. Though she is now starting to feel some of the burden's that come with her family name, she is at least very proud of her origins. She is at heart a scholar and is constantly fascinated by the introduction of new ideas and concepts. Through this interest she had, in turn, built a wealth of knowledge despite her young years, although this knowledge is rather of a scholarly nature and not always translatable to everyday life. For example, while Elspeth can tell you everything about Perpetua Fancourt's explorations in astronomy, she cannot tell you anything about the muggle world, nor does she have any real grasp of the politics of the magical world. Often, her opnions are regurgitaions of her father.

However, despite these shortcomings, she is generally quite clever and exceeds academically. She is creative in her spellwork and rather resourceful in activities such as potion making and Transfiguration. Lastly, she has something of a dry wit - though it is also fair to say that this part of her nature treads a close line to simple sarcasm.

Finally, she was sorted there in 1970, so for continuities sake....

Year:  1st choice: 4th, 2nd choice: 5th

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

All was quiet. The warm, dark night, falling like a thick blanket, muffled the sounds of human life. Only the soft tap tap of falling feet against stone disturbed it. The lights lingered low, ready to be extinguished at the call for dreams. It was not far away. Only an hour or so and the last of the household would retire to bed. It was for this reason, that a small, slight figure strode so determinedly along the passages of the homestead.
It was a girl, only fourteen years of age. Her face was fair, unblemished by sun or the physical change like some of her peers, and framed by a straight sheet of dark brown hair. Blue grey eyes, almost hidden under thick, bushy eyebrows, were narrowed in concentration. Dressed in a bright, white nightgown and holding a candelabra, the lass may have well just stepped out of the pages of a Bronte classic.

As it was, the girl was a Battersea, looking for a few moments of sweet nostalgia.

Elspeth knew the way like the back of her hand, to the point where her direction was automatic. Many time she had walked there, her first intentions being some other room, yet she would find herself unconsciously directed away. In her mind she could conjure an exact image of the doors leading to her location. Heavy, iron-gilded doors of oak stood side by side. Above them, the family motto “Non Tibi Non Mihi Sed Nobis” was inscribed in large, scarlet letters, edged in gold leaf. How often had her thoughts sat with that room, even though she was hundreds of miles away? It was, without saying, her favourite room in the house. She loved it better than the plush family room with the roaring fire, more than the sitting room that looked out onto the heather-stricken valley. More even, than her own bedroom, neatly organised with a wall full of books and a clear view of the gardens. Yes, she loved it best. Now she would spend the last hour of her home visit in sentimental reverie. Reaching the doors thus described, the girl discreetly lifted the latch and pushed against the door. It gave way with a conspicuous murmer, disturbing the cloud of mystery that seemed to linger at dark. Elspeth however welcome it, smiling as she stepped inside and flicked on the lights.

It was the Library. High white ceilings with embossed carvings loomed over a walls covered top to bottom with hard-cased knowledge. The air maintained that slightly musty smell, that only came with aging paper and dust. As Elspeth moved forward, her slippered feet grazed against a plush, navy blue carpet. Though the space was expansive, it was not unwelcome. Desks stood here and there, each with piles of books stacked neatly on the polished wooden surfaces.The lights also were warm and inviting; this was not a place for hushed whispers and scratching pens. Her father's own private library was a family affair and to show it there were scattered symbols of the Battersea childrens previous visits. On one desk lay a painting featuring dragons and vampires, created with the brightest paints - those favourited by Elspeth's baby brother. Walking through one might have also spied the the miniature cauldron, seated neatly on a shelf. It was crammed full of pens, parchments, sugar quills and even a book of sheet music. Elspeth's twin brother Ethan who, no doubt, had mastered the said piece years ago.

Elspeth gazed around her as she walked through the room. She would not claim she had read even a quarter of the books there. If they were not in some kind of ancient language she did not understand (at least not yet), the books would be too advanced for her to even have a remote understanding. However, her father had seen that this place would not be an alien abode for his children. Ewan Thurston Battersea had from the beginning, endeavoured to encourage a love of learning in his children. The Library, a central symbol of knowledge, thus had to be welcoming. As such, as the very back of the room there was organised a special outlay. Here, the bookshelves were smaller. They stood in hodgepodge order, creating a tiny maze. The colours were different too. The covers of the books on those shelves were brighter and newer. The titles of many spoke of fairy tales or were titled with something like Beginners Magic, or Easy Spells for the Eager Student. It was also in this little offshoot that there stood several wide lounge chairs, stuffed with pillows and blankets, as well as a daybed, which stood under the only window in the room. It was a beautiful scultpure of high arches and glass. At present it was half covered in a long midnight blue curtain, opened slightly to offer a view into the black night.

Elspeth walked immediately to the daybed. It was once a grand piece, upholstered in a fine brocade of curling leaves, dyed in a colour of dark maroon. Its legs and rims were a dark oak, well polished and trimmed with twists of gold, running like threads at the square edges and rounded arms. However time, and the use of children, had rendered it slightly less fine. There were scrateches in the varnish and stains on the fabric. The inclusion of large white sleeping pillows, as well as mismatched cushions and a large fur blanket also lessened its decorum.However, the girl came to it, running her small hands along the gilded headrest. She knew it well, the up and down of the curving gold, the nicks and cuts, the rough edges of worn away luxury. It was a place Elspeth had spent much of her life. Or at least, its most treasured moments.

Sun burst through the long, marvellous window, casting the room in a glow of fine summer light. Outside the crickets hummed and birds chirped easily. Somewhere in the distance the yells of young children and the bark of dogs could be heard. It was such glorious weather, so rare in the dreary lands of Scotland, that it was entirely unusal for anyone to still be inside. Yet there did linger two. A full grown man, blonde haired and blue eyed, lay stretched out of the maroon daybed. In one hand he deftly held a book, small enough to flick the page every so often with his thumb. Under his other lay a small brown-haired girl, perched neatly in the crook of his arm. Head resting against his chest, she too held a book, though hands clasped it at either end. Blue grey eyes roved each page eagerly. It was a picture book, filled with weird pictures of weird and wonderful things, though they were no fantastical. Where for some there may have been dragons, faeries or castles, for this young girl the illustrations spoke of bicycles, telephone boxes, record players and cars. Both figures were rapt in their pursuits, lost in the worlds of other things.

Elespeth left the the daybed, moving towards the shelve, fingers tracing over the spines of each well-fingered volume. Notably, in this part of the Library, nothing was alphetised. Rather, the books grew according the the age of her reader. At the start there were the children's stories, Beedle the Bard and the Legends of Merlin. Yet as the shelves went on, and reached further out into the main part of the Library, they became more mature. As Elspeth reache dthe very last shelf, she found her schoolbooks from last year, as well as another set of the one she and Ethan would be using this year. Tyrannus' Transformative Transfiguration Grade 2, 1001 Magical Herbs and Funghi as well as various others. Here also there lay more history books. Titles spoke of Cicero, the exploits of welsh druids and old gaelic mythology. It was also here taht there stood two volumes with the simple inscription of Battersea. It was the first of these that Elspeth reached for, opening the cover to reveal a small inscription, written in pencil in the top right hand corner. It simply said, "To my Granddaughter".

"This is for you," the old woman said, handing the yound girl a small, hard-covered book. Elspeth took it curiously, studying it carefully. It was a pretty book, pale blue with a gold embossed title. It was her family name. Sudden realisation dawned in the girls bright blue eyes and she looked up at her Grandmother with sudden questioning. She had known smoething like this would happen, though it seemed such an insignificant little thing.

"Your Grandfather will give your brother one also." Rossalyn added, a smile broadening over her lips. "Do not get overly excited my child. You know most of it already. However, your Grandfather felt that, given your interest, it would be nice for you to have it all in one place."

The young girl nodded, turning over the book in her hands. She was holding her family's history against her palms. It was not all of it, she knew that. There were things that would have to wait until she was older, much older. Indeed, Elspeth was increasingly aware that there were things she would never know. The Battersea Legacy went deeper than any one human life could fully understand. Yet the book she held was a symbol of many things to come. The knowledge she thirsted for. The magic blood that flowed through her veins was older than many of the history books themselves. Knowing some of the twists and turns that followed along her lineage, understanding the family's lore and learning its ways - it was like glancing over the very power of magic itself.

"It will become outdated in time," the woman said, eyeing her granddaughter's keen interest. She felt the girls love for the old things of the past. It was touching, yet also worrying. Attachment sometimes blinded.

"You know that with increasing knowledge, there comes increasing responsibility, Elspeth." Rossalyne continued. "There is more than one type of loyalty. Yours is to the Battersea name, and this requires one of the greatest loyalties of all. You never only represent yourself. You are at all times, representing your family and all its members. Never forget this child. For if you err, you do not only dishonour your brother, your parents and us. You also err for all your ancestors. You taint the blood that runs through a world of others."

Elspeth looked up into the eyes of Rossalyn Catanach. No smile lay on either face.

"I understand, Grandmother."

Elspeth closed the book quietly. However, she did not place it back on the shelf next to its brother, instead keeping it in her free hand. She understood what was before her all too well. Though she was only fourteen, Elspeth sometimes felt that she might reach into the future and touch it. She would be the best of the lot. She would bring honour and glory to her family. She would be one of the new generation, praised for her wisdom and talent. She desired so deeply to be one of the legends, one of the great leaders in this world. Already, Elspeth felt she was on her way. She fulfilled what was expected of her like a piece of a jigsaw. She was an astute, hardworking student of Ravenclaw house. She was prodigious in Conjuring and Summoning, though she also made sure to be skillful in every other area too. Yes, Elspeth was a young model of how things should be.

Sometimes she hated it.

The low hoot of an owl broke Elspeth from her musings. She had lingered too long. The old twelve handed clock on the wall indicated it was near eleven o' clock, and tomorrow they had to catch the Express to Hogwarts.No doubt it would be something of a struggle. Her twin brother always managed to leave something behind.Tucking the book under her arm, Elspeth took her candle from the empty space of the bookshelf, turned her back on the daybed and the large arch window, and walked towards the door. As she did so, she breathed in heavily through her nose. She would take what she could of this place and nothing lingered in her memory better than the smell of books. The smell of other things. Even upon reaching the doors she paused, turning to glance one more time at the Library, wishing it a fond goodbye. She cast her eyes upon the lines, the texture, the shapes and the shadows and planted them firmly also in her minds eye. Then, turning swiftly, she flicked off the lights and closed the doors, leaving the room in empty stillness.

Please include these sections if they are not addressed in your biography.

Elspeth is a typical bookworm, though she would never apply that label to herself. As a Battersea her love and need for knowledge runs much deeper than simply being a good student. She particularly enjoys an intellectual challenge and is prone to argument if she feels an opportunity is at hand. Some people have been intimidated by this and ironically, it is often these people whom Elspeth keeps as her close circle of friends, given her tendencies to also be something of a queen bee. Yet it is the people who rise to the occasion that Elspeth really respects. As such, along with her group of girlfriends, she has formed odd attachments with all sorts of people.

Negotiating how these relationships fit into her more general appearances are sometimes something of a struggle.

Elsie also loves music, especially anything with a boppy beat. She has loved the Beatles ever since being introduced to them in her first year. While she quickly dismissed the young Gryffindor showing her, she went on later to hunt them down herself. Ever since then she has been a major fan of the happy, swinging music of the muggle world though few people realise. She keeps it under wraps partly because of its origins but also because she has previously feared that people would think her more silly and less serious. Now however, as she starts to loosen up, this more bohemian side might become more apparent.

Appearance: Elspeth is a little short for her age. She’ll never grow to be tall. Her hair is as a child was light golden brown, setting her apart from her family. Now however her hair is darker, most often a chocolate brown although it can acquire an auburn tint in the summer. Eyes are blue, though erring more on the greyish side. Her skin is quite pale with a splay of freckles across the nose. At home she dresses in typical Battersea fashion ie. 100 years behind the times. You’ll find her roaming around in full robes complete with button-up cotton dress and white shoes, typically Georgian or Victorian in style. Yet while at school she rebels against this somewhat, wearing more modern, though still modest, fashions.

You come across one of these three posts on the site. Please reply to one only as your character would.
*** Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not James' or Astrid's.

Option I:

Blimey, the Great Hall was packed. It seemed like everywhere a guy looked there was some clown waving around a House banner or yelling about the game.

'Can you believe it?' 'No way!' 'This must be the biggest upset in Hogwarts Quidditch history...'

Stupid Quidditch.

James flopped into an empty seat at the end of the table, shoved an empty plate out of the way, and let his head sink onto his crossed arms, squishing his freckled nose down flat against the tabletop. He wasn't sure why he'd even bothered to come here, since he definitely wasn't hungry. He'd probably never eat again, in fact. He didn'tdeserve to eat. He hadn't stopped in the locker room to change out of his muddy, sweaty uniform after the game either, because he was pretty sure he probably didn't deserve to be clean too; and anyway he couldn't stand to see the looks on his team mates' faces after he blew their chance at winning one of the biggest games they had ever played.

Just one lousy shot. That's all it would have taken. If he could have just got that one stupid foul shot to go through that one stupid hoop, they could have won and he wouldn't have been the biggest blockhead in the entire school.

As if to prove the point, half the people at the next table suddenly broke into a loud victory chant. James pressed his face further into his arms to hide the bright red blotches he could feel creeping up his cheeks. That was it. He was just going to have to run away and move to Nova Scotia. He'd just cost the three-year-in-a-row Champions the Quidditch Cup! How do you ever live that one down for crying out loud? He was only a second year and he was going to spend the rest of his life as 'that dumb cry-baby kid who dropped the Quaffle!'

It felt like every set of eyes in the room was boring into him, and James couldn't stand it anymore. He jerked himself back up from the table and stomped right back out of the Hall the same way he had come in. As he stormed into the quieter hallway outside, he could hear footsteps somewhere behind him. James rounded on the sound and began to shout, his brown eyes shining with tears. "WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture!"

Sample Roleplay Response: Type in your response here.

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