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Topics - Lynn Basile

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Elsewhere Accepted / Lynn Basile - Elsewhere Adult
« on: 02/01/2017 at 22:45 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Siani Lynn Basile (nee Renn)
Gender: Female
Age: 43 (DOB: July 8th, 1906)
Blood Status: Pureblood

Preparatory schooling: 1911 - 1917
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ravenclaw: 1917 - 1924
Finishing School: 1924 - 1925
Junior Healer, St. Mungos: 1925 - 1928
Healer, Emergency and Triage: 1928 -

Wizarding London

Healer at St. Mungo’s

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?
St. Mungo’s, I guess?

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 10
  • Divination: 5
  • Transfiguration: 7
  • 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:
Sylvia Renn, Elsie Märchen

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

Reality was made by our words.

Born with brown hair and green eyes, she already stood out from the mostly fair-haired family she belonged to. Suspicion cast on her from birth, no one dared say anything to her face for they had a legacy to protect, but it did not prevent Siani from hearing the maids whisper as they cleaned the rooms, or her tutors eye her mother. She knew from the beginning that to be different was to be wrong, to be contrary was definitely bad, and that loyalty to the family should run deeper than any loyalty she had to her own values. Siani knew it, had it pressed into her again and again as she stepped out of line, but she was the youngest and the prettiest, and they wanted her to just be acceptable.

Which, at first, was something Siani was willing to do. She kept on top of her classes, though all of her siblings had done the same before her, so it was not impressive - it was expected. She didn’t take a Divination N.E.W.T., but her family was willing to accept that on the grounds she did well in the more concrete classes. She stayed out of trouble, and kept to herself. Success. Success. It was her mantra to remind herself of its tangibility. She fell into line as her parents wanted, and in return, they overlooked her small infractions with muddy bloods in dark corners, and dirty nails from planting in the garden.

It was in the garden, planting the ferns and the trees, Siani felt at peace with her life. If she could keep her acres of plants, solar, and greenhouse, surely that was enough to warrant the rest? It was so much, for so little.

(She told herself this, over and over again, as though someday she might believe it in sincerity.)

After graduation, they wanted her to go to finishing school. Siani went, using it as a guise to not respond to suitors and wave off proposals. She told them she would come home to Wales, while she searched for a job and an apartment in London. Telling her father she was moving to London alone to train as a Healer was one of the hardest days of her life, but Siani stood up to his fury in a way that impressed her independence onto her parents.

She refused to be their puppet. She would keep her name clean but they had to let her live away from the family mansion where it was impossible to escape the pressure. ‘Why?’ they asked her, pleaded her, guilted her. ‘I am going to be happy,’ she answered, promised, yelled.

(It would make her happy, it would, it had to. Words were the weapon she had against the rest of the world, so she promised herself this would be her reality.)

It took her three months to leave her parents on decent terms. They didn’t speak to her for weeks at a time, but in the end (always in the end) she was the little girl, and she was good. Siani left the mansion behind, with its staff and endless property, to a bare flat in Wizarding London with barely enough room to turn around. She had a few ferns as company, and later had a cat, but had learned to fill her time with work.

She saw her parents three times a year: Christmas, Easter, and their anniversary when they invited a large portion of the family to the Estate. She saw her siblings more frequently, with less regularity, whenever they had a spare minute. It was doable, and it let Siani pursue her passion without feeling held back by their expectations. She would show them, because Ravenclaws need proof to believe, and the Renn’s needed proof to be proud. (She didn’t blame them.)

They wanted her to marry when she turned twenty-five. More insistent at twenty-seven. Pleaded with her at thirty. Threatened at thirty-one. Yet, her answer never changed.

“I have more important things in my life than settling down as a housewife for an unthankful husband. I am not giving up my work. I have been given more responsibility in the Department, I do not have time. Leave me alone. Please.”

At thirty-five, her answer began to change. Siani ran into a foreigner in town while she was on break (one of the only ones she’d had in forty-eight hours). He needed directions, and she took one look at his tired face and young child, and offered to buy him coffee. She gave him directions and thought they would never meet again.

They did, though, of course, because stories are never written well when there is only one person. Pasquale was forbidden as sin, a divorced halfblood with children from his past marriage, barely scraping by. Siani was protective of him and of them, and everything they built together with their own two hands. He remembered to water her plants when she worked triple shifts at the Hospital, and fed her cat when she fell asleep on the couch. He patiently listened to her instructions when she planted, and he calmed the loud tempest of her dissatisfied life until there was nothing but the two of them.

It took her three years from their meeting in 1941 to realize she was in love with him. Siani did not even know where or when it had happened, but something shifted in what they were to an insurmountable connection. There was a slight problem, though, because he was everything that she was not supposed to fall in love with. Yet, Siani knew Pasquale was everything that she wanted to fall in love with, and she never did well with following rules anyways.

(She told him six months later, weighted words to drown the two of them. They would go down together, though, in this causal storm.)

To marry him would be the ultimate defiance. It would threaten her family’s position as the Main family, and it would undoubtedly cast her away from everything she’d known to belong to her. It couldn’t get rid of Pasquale, though, or the plants they had grown together, or the life they had quietly made for themselves in the heart of London. She had so much to give him, if only she had the courage to … jump.

Two years later, in 1946, Siani gave her wedding invitation to her parents and siblings in person. She watched them open the envelope, scan the name, and look at her. “He’s a halfblood,” she answered this time, “And we are in love.” They wished her well, cursed her off the property, and revoked her family name. She took the name Lynn Basile in their marriage, cleaning casting off the rest of their hold. This would be the base of her new future, her new self, her new reality with Pasquale and his quiet son.

And the rest, they say, is history.

You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.

Roleplay Response:
Lynn was, of course, in a hurry. She had exactly twelve minutes left to find some lunch, eat it, and be back in the Emergency Department to take over for the Healer going home. She, typically, would have brought her lunch, but Lynn recalled exactly where she had forgotten it. The blasted thing sat neatly on the bench by the door, to the left, underneath her key holder. She didn’t trust herself to Apparate properly with her mind scattered from little sleep, and too many patients, so Lynn was out in the crowd for food.

Her Healers robes helped a tad, as people tended to give way to a Healer in a hurry, but not everyone. Lynn frowned impatiently, weaseling her way through the masses as much as she could, and cut in front of people the rest of the time. It was not until she had almost reached the place that was best for fast service that Lynn found something she could not quite ignore.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!”

Lynn tried not to roll her eyes - she really did - but it happened anyways. Turning, the Healer looked for the source, to find a younger woman sprawled in the dirt of the cobblestone. "Forget your wand," she muttered as she strode over with her best patient-side smile. "Hey, that was quite a tumble, need a hand?" Lynn said cheerfully, extending a hand towards the woman.

How did you find us? Syl.

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