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Elsewhere Accepted / Quincy Stanhope - returning Adult
« on: 14/08/2014 at 23:02 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Quincy Mairead Stanhope
Gender: Female
Age: 21

Hardknocks and the real-world (mostly uneducated, receiving only self-study in magic during her school-age years)

Where ever she can get a job

Kitchen maid, Cook’s apprentice, House-maid, or Personal-maid, she has fulfilled such positions with care and respect

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:
  • Charms: 6
  • Divination: 8
  • Transfiguration: 6
  • Summoning: 12
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:
Marty-boy, EWT, and my perpetually-worried Michael

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

She had lived through an exceptionally unfair existence, or that was how she’d trudged through her teen years believing.  Lately, Quinn didn’t know what to think.

There were holes in her childhood memory and no matter what she did, how hard she tried, she could not fill that void. Sometimes, all she wanted  was to remember that her childhood was some tragic thing filled with pain and finally abandonment, simply so that she might let go of the missing. Unfortunately she could only recollect some vague gossamer-like happiness with blank figures that emanated love and acceptance.

That was what hurt the most. Quincy, although she could not know it, had been happy and loved and still she clung to that which she did not have even as a successful young woman of many skills. It still haunted her, that life she could not hold onto in those waking moments after dreaming; that her family had been impoverished yet supportive, she’d had a beau whom she was painfully smitten with, and she had sibling a plenty that she cherished. All of that had been wiped from the slate, leaving her wandering the streets one night, searching for safety, only to find a crazy sounding woman and her statements of certainty.

At sixteen, Quincy Stanhope began her life, and what a cruel and confusing one it was.

The years marched on and with them came all manner of new terms and beliefs and lessons and hardships.  For a time, her life was solidly based at Haute-Marne, even though she’d felt lost among the mountains and hills of the Austrian countryside.  She didn’t belong but she had no other place to go. Quincy learned a great deal while under the employ of Mistress Malthus, a strange and distant woman who had always seemed about as comfortable at the manor as Quinn had felt. In her free time she honed the strange threads of magical ability that had decided to take earnest hold of her that fateful first wakening of 1937.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a painful learning process to find a place as the kitchen maid while juggling the awkward blossoming of magic. It felt as though the days, weeks and months went by in slow fashion as she learned to control rogue magical outbursts while spending her days and evenings completing her mountain of duties. Quinn’s time at Haute-Marne felt the equivalent of years, because only there had she begun to develop solid memories to replace her faulty childhood ones. Yet the reality of it was, tragedy befell too swift and that particular chapter in Quincy’s life was short-lived.

The still young girl was displaced a second time as the manor fell to forces unknown to Quincy. For a time she tried to keep in touch with the other employees of the manor, to those individuals that she’d been forced to rely on for structure and instruction, buy one by one she lost them all either to another world or the ending of them.

Quincy bounced from job to job as she made her way back to Britain. As milkmaid and housemaid, sometimes elevated to lady’s maid, Quinn moved over the countryside, London calling to her as if she were merely a slab of steel attracted by natural force. She couldn’t remember it, not clearly, but the outlying lands of London were where she belonged, was where she’d grown and experienced a happy existence.

London was different than she remembered… then again, she couldn’t truly remember it. It was dirty and lately it had experienced a bombardment of destruction. Wizarding London wasn’t much better, but there was always an air of perfection within its heart, as if nothing could dare touch it. Quinn had fallen into employment as a maid once again and from it she was marginally protected from the outside world, but she was a muggleborn and times weren’t too accepting of such a state.

She was conflicted of course about such a reality because she had worked for wizards and muggle alike. A job, was a job, which was something those pampered purebloods didn’t realize. On the other hand, she cared little for the well-being of any employer she’d worked under, be they pureblood or muggle or anything in between. They all had similar desires and ugly tendencies in regard to their help

Although… mistress Malthus… she’d given Quinn a place to begin again, and missed the woman for that.

The conflict Quincy felt was in the fact that her paycheck, her own livelihood depended upon those upperclassman that could afford, that had the right and the means to employ, servants.

It was all too confusing at times. Everything. Her childhood memories riddled with holes that left only the shining glimmer of what she’d lost, the life lessons that came with servitude to people that rarely appreciated hard work, and the unfair admonishment of being born into a state of being that too many considered was akin to filth. Quinn was still young and yet she saw no future for herself lacking pitfalls and strife. It was a pitiful way to go about one’s day, but that was how she progressed; one foot in front of the other, wondering if life would ever look sweet.

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

Option Two -
The snow had been falling steadily all morning and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Joshua Campbell scrunched his face up in a frown as he lifted his gaze to look to the sky. Snow. It really was quite a bother.

And it certainly didn't make it better that Diagon Alley seemed to be getting more and more crowded. Joshua sighed and pointed his wand at the large box that was currently placed on the doorstep of his shop. He had to get going. He had an order to deliver.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The elderly man muttered and watched the box hover in the air for a moment. Honestly, did St. Mungo's really need that much tinsel? And with glitter of all things? He sighed again. If it hadn't been for the rather convincing stamp on the order, he would have been likely to believe it had been a prank by one of those orphaned rascals living up there. 

Oh well, there was no point in waiting. Joshua deftly stirred the box down the doorstep and out onto the street, carefully levitating it above the heads of the crowd.

"Coming through! Coming through!" His voice sounded over the chatter of the crowd. "Keep out! Move ahead! Go on!" This was going way too slow. People were in the way and walking like they had all day! He huffed. Luckily the road was down hill.

"Coming through! Coming th--- arrrgh!" Joshua let out a loud shout as his feet suddenly slipped in the snow and sent him, the box, and several long strands of tinsel tumbling into the person who had been walking in front of him.

"For Merlin's sake!" Joshua muttered angrily as he hurried to his feet again, red and gold tinsel now decorating his black coat. "I am so sorry! This blasted snow!" He looked apologetic at the person he had crashed into.

Roleplay Response:

Winter; cold and bleak with color stripped from even the unmovable forms. Greens gave way, warm tones disappeared, and even the oranges of brick were blurred behind the falling of snow. It wasn’t Quinn’s favorite time of year, especially since she’d never filled much past the thin curveless figure of her teen years. The winter child cut her deep unless she took care to layer her clothing and she just so happened to have been in a rush. She forgot her overcoat and running was the only way to stay warm.

Unfortunately, running was nearly impossible in the throng of people on the walkway. Quincy heard the demands of a man in front of her as she pushed past humanity but she only barely paid him any mind. Her thoughts were on cold seeping through her layers of clothing and cutting to her bone, making movement itself tricky. She knew better than to forget her coat, but her mind had been elsewhere and like a foolish child she set out on errands without consideration to the world around her.

Quincy was apparently hoping to continue the habit as she suddenly realized the man’s voice and the man’s person was all too close to her own.  How she had pushed past him was a mystery to her, but that was beside the point as tinsel and boxes fell around her.

Quinn braced herself for blunt edges and closed her eyes as she too tripped up and found herself stalled in the middle of hurried footfalls and aggravated murmurs.

When she opened her eyes and turned, she found the man apologizing and complaining of snow. A few strands of auburn hair fell across her face as her features transitioned from mousy pain to sympathetic care.

“Is all’right, mister. All m’fault, really.” She said quickly, falling into tone she used with her masters and mistresses often.

“I can ‘elp you, least I can do.” She offered, hoping he wasn’t angry with her.

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Elsewhere Accepted / Re: Quincy Stanhope
« on: 09/11/2012 at 20:51 »
 The magical levels are a pending Special Request to Wally. I've made an edit to the application reflecting what would be First year equivalents to her starting magic levels.

Elsewhere Accepted / Quincy Stanhope
« on: 09/11/2012 at 09:17 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Quincy Mairead Stanhope
Gender: Female
Age: 16

Hard Knocks

RUINE HAUTE-MARNE, Austria (Staff Quarters)

Kitchen Maid

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:
First year magic levels with a special request pending
  • Charms: 1
  • Transfiguration: 2
  • Divination: 0
  • Summoning: 1
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Yes - Staff of the Malthus Castle.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Elizabeth Woods-Taylor, Michael Woods-Taylor, Loring Reinhardt

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

Quincy Stanhope was a wafer of a girl and if her mind wasn’t entirely elsewhere, she would have been very displeased. At the age of 16, when most children had blossomed, Quincy was still too thin, too gangly and without the curves that many a female hoped for. There was nothing truly spectacular about Quinn, that she could see, which would warrant writing home about, but then she did not have a home to write back to, so she supposed there was nothing lost on that account.

Quincy was an orphan, and an orphan she had been for nearly three weeks. She supposed that fact should have bothered her, but somehow it did not. Her parents – something told her that they had been kind and good and wanted the best for her. She vaguely understood that her mother cared a great deal about her, and that her father tried his best to make a home for them. Quinn’s recollection of her parents, therefore, was pleasing and she felt no need to blame them for her current predicament.

Someone however was to blame. She simply did not know who that was. The young girl felt lost as she performed her duties carefully, scrubbing a pot within an inch of its life. She didn’t stress to get to school on time, she didn’t have to worry that her peers thought one way or another about her, she didn’t even have the opportunity to pine over some boy. All she did was work.

Quincy had been faced with a very different life after January 1st 1937, and although she could not remember the details, she was fairly certain that she had a home, a set of parents and a life before the new year began. Now she just had a life, one with a few extra peculiarities.

Quinn would not learn to use such terms for a while, but she had been blessed with magic to two unsuspecting Muggles. Quincy had not shown many signs of that growing power within, but the subtle bubbles of suggestion were there every time a teakettle teetered about waking from its sleeping state and on those days that the girl’s hair changed length. None of these events were too extreme, just slight changes and small movements but it had become frequent enough for Quinn to register. Her parents, bless them, chalked it up to her ‘overactive imagination’.

And then the world turned upside down, and those residual powers dormant within her began to grow.

An elderly woman, some complete stranger to Quinn, had noticed something in her as she shuffled by on that darkest and most confusing night, "You are a young wizards my dear, you will be fine." Quincy had felt especially lost that evening after the sky lights danced and her mind became fuzzy, and had assumed the old woman was simply touched in the head, but a glace into a display window showed Quinn sporting the faint red curls of a different girl. Surely those locks were not her own; she who adorned daily the straight brown, simple hair that set off her freckles and hazel eyes plainly. Just as it should be.

So magic it was, however faint, coursed through her veins; little good it did for Quincy. Or maybe, it was just the quality she needed, because without it, would she have found a job?

Quincy Mairead Stanhope, sixteen with all that life has to offer in front of her, was left with that question.

She was an orphan without a past, not one she could recollect, and had been handed a clouded future, one that she had yet to understand. Her present consisted of dishes and vegetables, pots and floors, in a castle with a past and her future promised to contain magic. What would she do with all of it?

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:

Quinn was determined to spend the coins in her pocket. Usually, she was thrifty with her earnings, but a mood had struck her that day. What was she saving this for? A new dress, with rationing going on, clothing was scarce so there were very few nice things she could afford let alone be seen in by the public. She didn’t have anyone to impress anyway.

Was she saving it to buy something entertaining? A book, a game, some fun diversion, when would she even have the free time?

How about school-stuff… never mind all that! So Quinn had entered a store to purchase whatever struck her as neat, yummy, or strange, purely to spend some coin that she couldn’t rationalize saving for something better, when tiny fingers tugged at her skirt.

Quincy blinked several times as the little thing yammered away. By the time the small girl pressed some creature toward Quinn’s face, Quinn had already looked around the little store for an adult. With no one person fitting the bill of what she assumed parents should look like, and with the story the girl had tumbled, she had no choice but to deal with the child.

“Alright, close enough…” she said waving the pet away from her face, “So do you remember where you started? I can walk you back there; your mom is probably waiting for you.” An overwhelming feeling came over Quinn at that suggestion though. She hoped she hadn’t just lied to the girl. There was a time not so long ago that she had told herself the same thing, only her mom was nowhere to be found.

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