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Topics - Abigayle Jane Byrd

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Archived Applications / Abigayle Jane Byrd
« on: 29/04/2012 at 23:09 »

Name: Abigayle J Byrd

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


House Request:

*** Hufflepuff, Gryffindor

Type in your two year choices here. 7, 6

Bloodline: Muggleborn/Halfblood. Her father is a squib, mother is a muggle.

Magical Strength (pick one): Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one): Charms


She'd been so terribly excited, dark yellow curls bouncing wild as snakes of twine as she bounded up the steps to the attic. "Daddy, I'm a watch!" The bright words echoed ahead of her. Father knew what she meant. The little model airplane was set aside on his battered desk. A glance into her guileless eyes, and he smiled, and held her close, because he knew that soon he would have to let her go to a place he'd never been able to follow.

Grandmother and Grandfather Byrd had a secret. With family, they shared it openly, but Abigayle had known since she was very young that she must never tell. People dressed as witches on the telly, on the stage. And Abigaye giggled because she knew the bits that were all wrong. She'd never been very good at secrets, but if she'd slipped a time or two it hardly mattered.

No one would ever have believed her anyway.

The girl was bright... in the effervescent and high-spirited sense. In the intellectual sense, this was far less true, but she was kind and goodhearted, the sort who liked to believe the best of everyone. If she was also a bit naive, at times, and had her good heart broken a time or two, this only came with the territory of being the sort of girl that she was.

First kisses has been stolen early, twelve years old, and he had lied, for there was another girl who already knew that he belonged to her. And pretty, blue-eyed Abigayle had shed a few tears in the dorms and then apologised to Astrid the next day, because she'd never wanted to hurt anyone. For some reason or another Astrid hadn't wanted to listen. And the boy had never apologised at all.

It had not taken long at school to learn that natural charm did very little when it came to Charms lessons, and Charms, after all were so terribly key to everything else. Defence had been a failure at best, duels a disaster, and potions had been thrilled to see the back of her after that little distraction during her OWLS.

Flying seemed to be her only real magical talent. In the air, things felt natural, and though she'd helped her housemates practice often enough, she'd never tried out for the team herself. There were just too many people who wanted places too badly, and she could never have stomached winning out over one of them. There was also the fact that there were so many Rules, and keeping more than one in mind at the same time gave her a headache.

Abigayle had spent her school years as a sounding board, a shoulder to cry on, a late night flash-card holder (occasionally faced the right way), and a bringer of sweets in times of need. In short, she'd been a perpetual doormat, but she'd never been a deep enough thinker for this sort of thing to bother her much.

The end of her school years was approaching quickly, and she held no illusions that it would include an auror's or healer's education afterward. Hostess or waitress seemed far more likely to be in the cards, and truth be told, Abigayle looked forward to them. She enjoyed making people happy.

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

Personality: Abby is naive, kind, and a notorious people-pleasure. She's friendly enough to have a lot of people she cares about, and many probably care about her too, though it's likely plenty of people take advantage. She's also more or less thick as a yard of lard, and isn't a particularly talented witch.

Appearance: Abby is about 5' 6", with long, slightly curly dark blonde hair and blue eyes. She's slender, and somewhat athletic in her build. If she could change something about herself, she'd add a few more feminine curves here and there, as straight up and down seems to be the order of the day.


Option II:

Chicken had always been a tricky one. Abby was a gentle soul at the best of times, and her father had never had the heart to tell her where chicken actually came from. The others were easy. Pork, beef. There was no reason to make the connection without great leaps of mental effort far beyond the bunny hops the gods had granted to his sweet-natured little girl. In the end he’d just told her that it was called chicken because it looked a bit like one, and that made everything right as rain. Chicken and rice had always been one of her favourites.

Strands of loose hair bouncing around her shoulders, Abby clutched her book against her chest. A blithe little bounce threaded seamlessly through each of her steps and she navigated the familiar halls that led away from lunch.


Abby paused midstep, flipping her hair over a small shoulder, her features fixing themselves into a bright, blank smile. She didn’t have the slightest idea who the girl was, just one of many who filled the school, but wild hippogryffs could not have dragged this fact from her. She so hated to hurt people’s feelings. “Hello… you. Nice to see you again. I like your hair. Is it natural?” She said, the words rapid-fire and coated with an uncomfortably nervy gloss.

“What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”

For a moment the words failed to connect at all, then, like the motion of continents, her features knit up in careful thought. “Oh.” She said. “Oh. Oh. But they’d dieeee! I think. Or fall down?” The image swept over the vast emptiness of her thoughts. As blue eyes fixed on the other girl’s face, Abby promptly burst into tears. 


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