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Messages - Lilith Carlisle

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The Ricardi are the best. Just saying.

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Archived Applications / Lilith Ricardus
« on: 22/11/2013 at 23:56 »

Transfer Application




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Lilith Ricardus

Birthday: 18 September 1925

Hometown: Freethorpe, Norfolk, UK

Bloodline: Pureblood

Current Levels: C4D5T6S5

Current Year: Starting her 5th

Year Requested: 5th

Reason for Transfer:
Beauxbatons died. Also, it makes sense that she should go to Hogwarts, because she's British.

Biography:
"Don't."

Being the first out of five girls was only a real job if you let it get out of hand, and Jarvis and Ainia Ricardus had discovered quickly that their oldest daughter was a natural when it came to responsibility. Perhaps it was because of the way that she had been born into the world, the way in which she had been brought up, and the family into which she'd come to exist. Perhaps it was because her father ruled them with an iron hand and in turn was ruled by a hand made out of the clearest, coldest steel. It was no joke being a Ricardus - Ricardus Hall was hardly the place to go to for warmth and love, but it was home, and it was family, of the purest, classiest form.

They were priviledged and she knew it.

Some day would she make a good wife. But she was strong willed, and that was, perhaps, her greatest weakness.

"I said
don't."

There was a sharpness to her voice, an edge in her words, that made Medea look at her, retracting her hand from the cradle of their infant sister. The baby had been left in Lilith's care for a moment while mother attended to different business, and the servants had all been put to cleaning the dining quarters as preparations for later. Now the baby was sleeping, and she was going to stay that way, despite Medea's curiosity. The Ricardi had never liked crying. And Father was in the room next-door - he didn't need just another reminder that his fifth child had been a girl as well.

She knew what he wanted. She knew a lot of things. Being first-born meant nothing when you were a girl, except perhaps that she was expected to be more educated than Medea, more responsible than Evelyn, and definitely more so than Apollonia. Rosalie could hardly be blamed, only days old, yet still the source to a great deal of anger.

I was best keeping as quiet as possible.

Always.

Smart girls learnt quickly that it was best not to look Father, or uncle Loxias, or Granfather, directly in the eyes unless you were told to. In some ways she looked to them with awe, in others with fear, for they were stern men, each and every one of them. All of the children were taught proper Etiquette from the very start, and perhaps that was why she had been sent to Beauxbatons - the French were very proper in their ways and Hogwarts could be wild at times, or so had she heard. Father said Beauxbatons was a good school for girls. Uncle Loxias did not agree, and he had expressed his opinion, but Lilith had nothing to say. It was a long time since now, that she'd understood that there was a lot of cold blood between Jarvis Ricardus and his brothers.

It rubbed off onto them, onto his children.

Somehow it was their fault for being girls. Yet she'd spottet a soft spot in him, sometimes. She almost dared to love him then.

Perhaps it was funny that at Ricardus Hall, where everybody lived togehter - more than twenty people counted without the servants - that they somehow seemed so distant. Ironic, perhaps, that they enjoyed their privacy while always together. The Hall had always been cold, but it was familiar that way. And her cousins, they fascinated her. Boys made good conversation.

Medea finally stumbled off, realizing that her big sister held no interest in her, that her questions inspired no response. Lilith got up then, carefully making her way over to the cradle, clear blue eyes staring down at the wrinkled creature inside.

Babies were ugly.

Squeezing her eyes shut she imagined, hard, her little sister as a little brother. But when she opened them again nothing was changed.

She wondered if life would have been different.

As she sat back down to continue her sewing she tried to imagine them smiling. But rather than comforting, it seemed bizarre, and she pushed her thoughts to more realistic matters.


→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

[Hogwarts] House Request:
Slytherin, or at least not-Hufflepuff

Personality:
The wire was strung tightly between two poles, and she'd been eyeing it for minutes. The first time she'd found herself standing upon one of the little platforms, carefully putting a toe on the string, she'd known that she was being utterly ridiculous. She'd been to Beauxbatons since she was eleven, and there they learnt all kinds of arts, one of them being dancing. She enjoyed dancing, and she was rather good at it too, but it might be due to her father making sure that they excelled at everything that came with their Etiquette lessons.

Dancing also taught you balance.

But she was more into Studio Arts. That, or Humanities. Architecture and Art History, closely linked really, so she didn't understand why they had chosen to separate them into two different ecoles.

She'd fallen, hard, the first time she hit the floor. So hard she'd just lied there for a few minutes, gasping, feeling the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Luckily had she been alone, and every evening since had she made sure that there were nobody around.

She'd been back up after seven minutes, trying again.

Then the act had been repeated, every evening for the time that she'd been there. And bit by bit the pieces fell together.

It was like learning to walk all over again.

Now she just sat there, staring at the string, and wondered who'd put it there in the first place. Then, kicking her white shoes carefully off her feet, she took her place on the small platform and, one arm to each side in order to get the right balance, she walked. If she'd torn her dress Father would have been furious. But she'd done this in complete secret (as if there were anyone here who would've joined her anyway), and she'd never shown anyone.

But there was a small victory in knowing that she could.

Besides, she couldn't quit something that she'd started. She had to succeed.

On the middle she stopped, the rope swaying underneath her feet, and she used her arms in order to gain balance. It was far from perfect, but she was definitely getting somewhere compared to where she'd been two weeks ago. Her dress was a dark shade of grey, expensive and carefully fitted, and if she tore it she knew what she'd get. It was half of her motivation for doing this, her own forceful actions towards herself - she could not fail.

She refused to get down until she was able to stand there, perfectly still.

To sum up: Well mannered, yet incredibly stubborn, extremely judging, having very much difficulty with getting friends because she'll ignore you if you're not of the right family name/blood purity. Cold, elegant, but she'll scratch and bite, and she won't be afraid of bloodshed if you poke her in the right area. Extreme need to prove herself, yet inherant understanding of women as belonging to men, hierarchial, perfectonist, shut off, much kept to herself.

Appearance:
Lilith has inherited the dark hair of her Italian mother - it lightens in summer, but can be said to be in some shade of brown. She also has the pale blue eyes characteristic of the Ricardi, brighter than her father's. She is of average height, and always well dressed in expensively taylored clothing. Never in trousers, always in skirts or dresses.


3
Archived Applications / Lilith Ricardus
« on: 10/08/2013 at 02:06 »

Application for Beauxbatons Academy




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Lilith Ricardus

Birthday: 18 September 1925

Hometown: Ricardus Hall, outside Freethorpe, Norfolk, United Kingdom.

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): 3e Année, 4e Année


Biography:
"Don't."

Being the first of five girls was only a real job if you let it get out of hand, and Jarvis and Ainia Ricardus had soon discovered that their oldest daughter was a natural when it came to being responsible. Perhaps it was because of the way that she had been brought up, the family into which she had been born. Perhaps it was because her father ruled them with an iron hand and in turn was ruled by a hand made of the clearest, coldest steel. It was no joke being a Ricardus - it was hardly the place to go for warmth and love, but it was family, and it was family of the purest, of the most high class.

They were priviledged and she knew it.

Some day would she make a good wife, but she was strong willed, and that was perhaps her greatest weakness.

"I said
don't."

There was a sharpness to her voice, an edge in her words, that made Medea look at her, retracting her hand from their infant sister. The baby had been left in Lilith's care for a moment while mother attended to different business. The baby was sleeping, and she was going to stay that way, despite Medea's curiosity. The Ricardi didn't like crybabies. And Father was in the room next-door. He didn't need another reminder that his fifth child had been a girl as well.

She knew what he wanted. She knew a lot of things. Being first-born meant nothing when you were a girl, except perhaps that she was expected to be more responsible than Medea, more responsible that Evelyn and definitely more so than Apollonia. Rosalie could hardly be blamed, only days old, yet still the source to a great deal of anger.

It was best keeping as quiet as possible.

Smart girls learnt quickly that it was best not to look Father, or uncle Loxias, or Grandfather directly in the eyes unless you were told so. In some ways she looked to them with awe, in others with fear, for they were stern men, each and every of them. All of the children were taught proper Etiquette from very early on, and perhaps that was why she had been sent to Beauxbatons - the French were very proper in their ways and Hogwarts could be wild at times, or so had she heard. Father said Beauxbatons was a good school for girls. Sometimes she wondered what he meant by that, but she rarely opposed him. Uncle Loxias didn't seem too impressed, but then again, he never did, and Lilith preferred to stay as far away from him as possible. It was a long time since now, that she'd understood that there was a lot of cold blood between Jarvis Ricardus and his brothers.

It rubbed off to them, onto his children.

Somehow it was their fault for being girls. Yet sometimes she spotted a soft spot in her Father. She almost dared to love him then.

Perhaps it was funny, that at Ricardus Hall, while everybody lived together - uncle Loxias had eight sons and Lilith had four sisters - that they somehow seemed so distrant. Ironic, perhaps, that so many of them enjoyed their privacy while they chose always to be together. She liked it though, especially living with her cousins. Many times had she followed Salazar around, sometimes hiding from him, sometimes being completely obvious in her intentions. Then there was Emeric, whom she found fascinating, and Antioch, Herpo and Merwyn, all of them close in age with herself. Boys made good conversation.

Medea finally stumbled off, realizing that her big sister held no interest in hanging out with her. Lilith got up then, carefully making her way over to the cradle, clear blue eyes staring down at the wrinkled creature inside.

Babies were ugly. Lilith really couldn't see how some people found them cute.

She squeezed her eyes shut and imagined, hard, her little sister as a little brother. But when she opened them again nothing was changed.

She wondered if life would have been different.

Then she sat back down and continued knitting.



→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

Ecole Request:
Studio Arts (Architecture).

Communaté Preference:
Charlemagne.


→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
You come across this post on the site. Please as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions!

She didn't particularly like it when everybody ran around doing their own thing during dinner. At home at least people sat quietly, eating - here it was like some sort of club for all of the different people, and wherever you went there were always somebody who didn't manage to fit in. In truth, at home there was rarely conversation around the table at all.

She looked up, scanning the environment, taking note of those around her. To her left sat one of her friends - a fellow student, a fellow pureblood - talking in a hushed voice to another girl that Lilith didn't really know. Sometimes she pretended to pay attention, sometimes not. Lilith chose her friends with care - she'd show them the cold face, those cold blue eyes, and look upon them as uninteresting until proven wrong. She needed time to warm up to people. Not that she was anti-social or didn't like making friends, she just new that you shouldn't treat everybody the same way.

And there were always the little details.

It could be that their shirts hadn't been properly tucked in, that their hair wasn't perfectly combed, their make-up lopsided - some people were just sloppy. And she didn't want it rubbing off onto her, like some sort of disease.

And there were the muggleborns.

She looked briefly back at the girls, then turned her eyes down, poking a carrot with her fork and not feeling particularly hungry. It was then, of course, that hell decided to come hailing down upon her.

At first she didn't know what was happening, too shocked for her brain to process everything properly. Then she noticed the gravy, the potatoes, the sauce, all over her blouse, all over her skirt. At best it was an expression of great disgust that settled on her face, and she wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to slap whomever had done this to her.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

Sorry?

Lilith fixed her eyes upon the source of this great discomfort, and glared, heart hammering in her chest. Little by little the face was imprinted in her mind and it would not be forgotten anytime soon. Little Hilary, whomever she was, had just gotten herself a very dangerous enemy.

Somehow her wand had found its way into her hand, and she pointed it directly at Hilary in silent threat.

"You better get away. Fast."


→ ABOUT YOU.

Previous Characters (if applicable): Marcus Altair and ALL THE PEOPLE!

How did you find us?: In heaven.


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