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Messages - Zenobia Prym

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1
Archived Applications / Re: Zenobia Prym
« on: 08/12/2014 at 01:49 »
I apologise! I should have read more thoroughly about the Time Warp. I included one of the schools on the list, though it is from Eastern Germany so I hope that is still alright.


Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Zenobia Syaza-Beth Prym

Birthday: November 14th

Hometown: Oxford, United Kingdom

Bloodline:
Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one):
Divination

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Transfiguration

Year (pick two):3rd | 4th   

Biography:

“I never raised an indolent child.”

“I was never raised in Deutsch.” Zen stated petulantly, jutting her bottom lip and setting her jaw.

Hapsburg School of the Magical Arts, she reminisced of her brief time there, such dire lessons, the student’s all in sync; there was no great distinction between who the lower class were and who were clearly the superior.

The pandemonium of the war outside their walls left almost everything in disorder, except that. The students somehow united, labels mattered far less than they should have and Zen kept an upturned nose to most of them.

“You were suspended!” That was true. Unexpectedly though, her mother did not care as much as she thought, and that often meant there was an ulterior motive.

“You pulled me out!”

Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose to relent frustration. “You are far more secure when you aren’t in a terribly direct place to the war!”

“You seemed to think it was a good idea to begin with.” Zenobia humphed and folded her arms across her chest. Her stone-blue eyes turned into cat-like slits as they peered at her mother’s piercing green, thoughtfully pondering idea’s that Zen had long since dismissed.

“Home-schooling –”

“– Is not an option.” Her mother stated authoritively.

Zen pouted, a rare occurrence, but it seemed she was losing this battle. She had been taught at home to begin with, and her mother taught her very well. But her parents were hard-pressed at work and that was where they needed to be. And Hogwarts, as her parents had both decided on without her input, was the safest place to be.

Sure.

Her mother was an Arithmancer, her father an Unspeakable, working in the department of mysteries. It drove her mad, to never know, but the man couldn’t be cracked. And so they both had better places to be, it seemed.

Then the back door creaked, the one her little sister had jarred and unhinged too many times to count; and Arabeth skipped inside, carrying the gravel of the rocks and flicking them up with a scuffle.

She heard her mother hissing with a scathed look, tired and strewn out. Zen spun around and tip-toed off in the direction of her room. Hogwarts was the decision, she needn’t ask for she could see the kindle in her mother’s eyes, it was no longer Zenobia’s game to play.

Her father had gone to Hogwarts. And the history she had fought so hard to hide had lied there with the rest of her father’s memoir.

The petite girl stopped to turn back to her mother, head cocked to one side. “But it’s the middle of the year?”

That would buy her some time, at least.

“Until then, Zenobia, you will remain where you are.”

A pointed look.

“Let us try and hold a record over 6 months, shall we?”


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

House Request: Slytherin

Personality: Zen is a closed book, one with pages so thick full of secrets and the words scratched with a back of a pen – unreadable. She is envious of those in power, and those that are admired but with her irreverence for others, she is often opposed to. Takes pleasure in actively playing with mockery and has mastered the art of scorn for those with unrefined blood and anyone who barricades her in the way of something she desires.
Be flattered by her irony, for she is paying you the attention. Be grateful for her silence, for she is considering your worthiness and whether you fall in her world or not. Infinitely rich and blind to poverty, she does have friends, although it is only ever a very small tight-knit group of people whom she would never trust and takes satisfaction in the games she plays, as if they were her dolls.
She has built her walls up so thick and wears a mask of vanity and pride, but it is her history she shelters. A history she has worked hard to cover.
Zenobia is young but is a promising student in Divination, and holds a strong desire to learn wand less magic, no matter how far it is out of her reach. Her ambitions don’t cease, they only strengthen.

Zen is at her most vulnerable when she is dancing. Zen has been a dancer ever since she was small footed and incoherent, a much more excitable blonde haired, pale faced child with wide blue eyes. She appreciates the art of dancing and it is where she spends the majority of her free time.
She also practices four different tongues, excels in the things she wants to and is an utter disaster at the things she has disinterest in.

Appearance: Zenobia has light ashen blonde hair that falls mid-body. She often leaves it untouched in it’s natural waves. Stone-washed blue eyes attract, though they often appear glazed and vacant, conveying no emotion and if one looked into them directly they would almost think she was staring straight into their soul. She has a fair complexion, skin is usually quite pasty but her blushed pink cheeks bring forth the colour. There are tiny freckles splayed over her nose and she has high cheek bones. She is tall and thin for her age, having just endured a growth spurt. With skeletal arms and a paper-thin waste, she is tall and thin for her age, though she moves gracefully, almost cat-like.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.

Zen left the stands very quickly, trotting along the hallway with a soft click of her heels against the hard floor, a reverberation that echoed off the walls and soon drowned out in the ruckus. She continued, pressing two fingers to her temples, willing to drown out the outcry’s of passing a group of bickering idiocies, deciphering their new class layout plan, as they would just not be seen seated and making contact with the boy who lost his grip on the Quidditch cup.

“You’re his friend, you tell him we can’t!”

“Nope, nah uh, I’m Switzerland!”

The sooner they forgot, the better. The boy would be another crack in the walls in no time, a story they would rather not tell. But that was ultimately up to him. He could save his reputation, just like she had, but she would soon forget him too.

She turned a corner, swiftly, making her nearest escape. Until she heard a duet of footsteps and she dragged her gaze up, a small effort to ensure she wouldn’t trip over a blatantly ignorant first year. The nobody, stared back with dark eyes, weeping like a child that was not going to make the situation any better.

A nameless nobody that was stomping rather loud.

"WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before?”

Zen rested her head to the side, observing the boys slacking, defeated posture and letting a coy smirk flitter across her lips. “I’ve heard Dementors were less soul-sucking than you.” She raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Way to quaff the pride of one teams spirit.”

“Why don't you just take a picture!"

She waved her hand dismissively. “I can snatch up a school newspaper for that.”

She turned on her heel, her dark robes in a flap around her ankles. She was timeless, but that did not mean she had to waste any of it on him.

“Besides, a picture may be worth a thousand words but a memory is more valuable.”



→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): N/A

How did you find us?:
A friend of a dear friend!




2
Archived Applications / Zenobia Prym
« on: 06/12/2014 at 14:28 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Zenobia Syaza-Beth Prym

Birthday: November 14th

Hometown: Oxford, United Kingdom

Bloodline:
Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one):
Divination

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Transfiguration

Year (pick two):3rd | 4th   

Biography:

“I never raised an indolent child.”

“I was never raised in French.” Zen stated petulantly, jutting her bottom lip and setting her jaw.

Beauxbaton Academy was awful, the topics dire and their mannerly way to life was exhausting. Zen could unravel their foreign sentence and place it in English very simply, she could speak it fluently. But she decided to keep that to herself.

“You were suspended!” Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose to relent frustration.

“You pulled me out!”

“I had no other choice, Zenobia. You were playing games, toying with their education,” she breathed heavily, glimpsing at her eldest daughter, “And I taught you better.”

Zen stared, really stared. Her stone-blue eyes turned into cat-like slits as they peered at her mother, thoughtfully pondering idea’s that Zen had long since dismissed.

“Home-schooling –”

“– Is not an option.” Her mother stated authoritively.

Zen pouted, a rare occurrence, but it seemed she was losing this battle. She had been taught at home to begin with, and her mother taught her very well. But her parents were hard-pressed at work and that was where they needed to be. Her mother an Arithmancer, her father an Unspeakable, working in the department of mysteries. It drove her mad, to never know, but the man couldn’t be cracked.

Then the back door creaked, the one her little sister had jarred and unhinged too many times to count; and Arabeth skipped inside, carrying the gravel of the rocks and flicking them up with a scuffle.

She heard her mother hissing with a scathed look, tired and strewn out. Zen spun around and tip-toed off in the direction of her room. Hogwarts was the decision, she needn’t ask for she could see the kindle in her mother’s eyes, it was no longer Zenobia’s game to play.

Her mother went to Beaxbaton’s, her father to Hogwarts. And the history she had fought so hard to hide had lied there with the rest of her father’s memoir.

The petite girl stopped to turn back to her mother, head cocked to one side. “But it’s the middle of the year?”

That would buy her some time, at least.

“Until then, Zenobia, you will remain where you are.”

A pointed look.

“Let us try and hold a record over 6 months, shall we?”


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

House Request: Slytherin

Personality: Zen is a closed book, one with pages so thick full of secrets and the words scratched with a back of a pen – unreadable. She is envious of those in power, and those that are admired but with her irreverence for others, she is often opposed to. Takes pleasure in actively playing with mockery and has mastered the art of scorn for those with unrefined blood and anyone who barricades her in the way of something she desires.
Be flattered by her irony, for she is paying you the attention. Be grateful for her silence, for she is considering your worthiness and whether you fall in her world or not. Infinitely rich and blind to poverty, she does have friends, although it is only ever a very small tight-knit group of people whom she would never trust and takes satisfaction in the games she plays, as if they were her dolls.
She has built her walls up so thick and wears a mask of vanity and pride, but it is her history she shelters. A history she has worked hard to cover.
Zenobia is young but is a promising student in Divination, and holds a strong desire to learn wand less magic, no matter how far it is out of her reach. Her ambitions don’t cease, they only strengthen.

Zen is at her most vulnerable when she is dancing. Zen has been a dancer ever since she was small footed and incoherent, a much more excitable blonde haired, pale faced child with wide blue eyes. She appreciates the art of dancing and it is where she spends the majority of her free time.
She also practices four different tongues, excels in the things she wants to and is an utter disaster at the things she has disinterest in.

Appearance: Zenobia has light ashen blonde hair that falls mid-body. She often leaves it untouched in it’s natural waves. Stone-washed blue eyes attract, though they often appear glazed and vacant, conveying no emotion and if one looked into them directly they would almost think she was staring straight into their soul. She has a fair complexion, skin is usually quite pasty but her blushed pink cheeks bring forth the colour. There are tiny freckles splayed over her nose and she has high cheek bones. With skeletal arms and a paper-thin waste, she is tall and thin for her age, though she moves gracefully, almost cat-like.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.

Zen left the stands very quickly, trotting along the hallway with a soft click of her heels against the hard floor, a reverberation that echoed off the walls and soon drowned out in the ruckus. She continued, pressing two fingers to her temples, willing to drown out the outcry’s of passing a group of bickering idiocies, deciphering their new class layout plan, as they would just not be seen seated and making contact with the boy who lost his grip on the Quidditch cup.

“You’re his friend, you tell him we can’t!”

“Nope, nah uh, I’m Switzerland!”

The sooner they forgot, the better. The boy would be another crack in the walls in no time, a story they would rather not tell. But that was ultimately up to him. He could save his reputation, just like she had, but she would soon forget him too.

She turned a corner, swiftly, making her nearest escape. Until she heard a duet of footsteps and she dragged her gaze up, a small effort to ensure she wouldn’t trip over a blatantly ignorant first year. The nobody, stared back with dark eyes, weeping like a child that was not going to make the situation any better.

A nameless nobody that was stomping rather loud.

"WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before?”

Zen rested her head to the side, observing the boys slacking, defeated posture and letting a coy smirk flitter across her lips. “I’ve heard Dementors were less soul-sucking than you.” She raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Way to quaff the pride of one teams spirit.”

“Why don't you just take a picture!"

She waved her hand dismissively. “I can snatch up a school newspaper for that.”

She turned on her heel, her dark robes in a flap around her ankles. She was timeless, but that did not mean she had to waste any of it on him.

“Besides, a picture may be worth a thousand words but a memory is more valuable.”



→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): N/A

How did you find us?:
A friend of a dear friend!



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