Welcome to Hogwarts School :: A Harry Potter RPG! It's 1958!

Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.


Messages - Emelina Albear

Pages: [1]
1
Elsewhere Accepted / Re: Emelina Albear | Child
« on: 13/10/2015 at 11:50 »
Hello,

Thank you for these questions!

 1 I've no doubt she's made a couple of friends in the Castle, though I would like to think that they didn't give her much reason to stay. And definitely, there'll likely be someone in her past who'll find her familiar (or recognise her altogether) should they bump into her in the streets or someplace else. This'll probably make her panic and then attempts to deny/dismiss the very idea would be made. She'll likely do something about it, too, if that were possible at all e.g: convince her family to move away, etc. Or like her initial reaction to mounting distress, she'll run away again when/if it gets too much to handle. To aid the concealment of her identity, Emelina's gone through a bit of a change in terms of looks and personality, but of course, the disguise isn't always infallible.

2 When she went missing 2 years ago, the Chadwicks (her last known foster family) reported it and called in the authorities; a brief manhunt ensued and then possibly, the use of the Trace to finally track her down. It's likely that she'd been found by an official, but that the investigation stopped because her new, minted & influential family covered it up, hushed whoever's in-charge of social welfare, read: bribery and possibly, lack of manpower because of the war. It's possible that Emily Hobbs remains a missing person to this day and that her previous ward's still looking for her. 

2
Elsewhere Accepted / Emelina Albear | Child
« on: 12/10/2015 at 17:01 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Emelina Milagros Albear
(prev. Emily Hobbs but that’s a secret!)

Gender: Female

Age: 15/16 - 4/1/1930

Bloodline:
Muggleborn (being passed off as Pureblood)

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Isabelle & Basilio Albear, not at the moment.

Residence:
Cumbria, England

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
No.

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Caius et al.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Fall 1943 --

She could not run fast enough.

The lies were building, tottering, and like flames, they licked at her feet until her toes blackened with soot. Bigger, higher, fancier untruths. Her so-called friends had begun narrowing their eyes, frothing at the mouth with questions - and Emily thrummed, her heart drop-drop-dropping.

The Castle faded in the distance.

No one would look for her.

She was mist and fog and smoke.

 - d i s a p p e a r . 

A week --

The dead still felt the sun, felt the cold touch of leather against her temples.

Slumped against a crate of rotten vegetables, the girl with no name awoke to perfume and kidskin gloves. She was cold, delirious, pale as death.

The shadow loomed and spoke.

“… your name?”

Last beat.

“Em-,”

Last breath.

A month --

“Emelina,” said the woman she’d come to know as Isabelle the Kind. She sat near the bath, a parchment tucked on her lap. The scribbling noises terrified the girl, whose petite body curled up beneath rose petals and milk. 

Wisps of light brown hair sluiced milkwater onto the floor, her fingers crushed the roses in her tanned hands as she sobbed. An attendant gasped and took the bud from her. Isabelle sighed, and wrapped the girl’s hand in a handkerchief.

Then, she presented the official-looking document to her.

CERTIFICATE OF ADOPTION, it said, followed by a long, foreign name. Pureblood, of all things. Albear Family. Isabelle Albear. Yesterday’s date. Signed and sealed.

The biggest lie of all.

“Do you want to forget?”

Emelina nodded.

A year --

No longer grimy, powdered now - prettified Emelina, fragile as a newborn, Spanish-tutored, decked in frills and wealth; swish, clink and puff. A tabula rasa, empty empty empty as the day was wide and wanting. Emelina with sugar-sludge in her lungs, the Milagro of Cumbria. She was saintly on those cobblestones, but her feet whispered a different story. She used to be Emily the lie-mongering sticky little orphan. Not anymore.

Against harsh light, Emelina shimmered; she never cartwheeled, she read Austen and wanted for nothing. She also couldn't remember (how convenient!) anything about her former life. A primadonna on stilts.

“Emelina?” chirped Isabelle, eau de parfum-ed and fondued with silk and lace.

The girl’s disposition had been inconstant at best, often blue and anxious and nightmarish, Isabella thought homeschooling her would be preferable. The child thought a pillow could swallow her sobs, but Isabelle heard and ached at the her child’s nightly terrors.

Their adopted daughter had been a blessing, for in all her married life, Isabelle had never been happier. Basilio, a wayfaring businessman and devout follower of tradition, had always disapproved of such transactions - adoption was synonym with humiliation and incompetence. However, his wife had been barren for so long a time; surely an almost-grown child would assuage that child-rearing hunger.

It did. 
 
Silently, the girl sniped the gilded letter opener and slipped it under her thigh. Some things never changed, not even for this Emelina.

First beat.

“How would you like to meet the family?”

First breath.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trudged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:

The park seemed awfully lively.

Younger children whipped up a frenzy on the merry-go-round, two boys locked their knees around the monkey bars, their arms like pincers a-clawing, Emelina guessed the skinnier of the two would be dethroned. A child in pigtails surrounded herself in technicoloured buckets, mounds of sand heaped around her, snot and tears and a spade in hand.

Emelina’s fingers itched beneath her gloves.

"You!" came a tinny voice, a call to arms - the hurricane inside her brewed thickly. Wham wham whoosh.

"...Do you want to play?"

In another life, she’d be the one on top of those monkey bars, showing off a sturdy handstand. Mouthing off that she’d been trained professionally at Fancyducks Academy or something, or that she was part-fae and that’s why she was so nimble, so spry. In another life.

“No, I can’t be dirty.” Wary, Emelina eyed the girl then pulled at the hem of her buttercream frock; she hoped her ‘haughty’ voice worked.


OTHER
How did you find us? Google

3
Suggestions & Questions / Re: Reworking a character?
« on: 11/10/2015 at 05:16 »
Ahh, I see! Thanks for clarifying that c:

4
Suggestions & Questions / Reworking a character?
« on: 11/10/2015 at 04:38 »
Hi,

So I have this character whose background I want to re-write. I've actually neglected her for quite a while now so I'm trying to make sense of it all and give her new plots. In that process, I thought about altering her age slightly, like pull her back 2-3 years - would that be allowed? I've submitted an app a while back which states that she's born in 1930, would the info on a more recent application override that?

5
Archived Applications / Emily Hobbs
« on: 03/04/2014 at 02:57 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Emily Abigail Hobbs

Birthday: January 4 1930

Hometown: Currently; Wizarding London

Bloodline:
Muggleborn

Magical Strength (pick one):
Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination

Year (pick two): 1st (preferred!) and 2nd

Biography:
If you are applying to be a first, second, or third year, your biography must be at least one hundred words long.
If you are applying to be a fourth year or above, your biography must be at least three hundred words long.


Ever since the Chadwicks had hosted her, Emily has been well-cared for. Yet despite the pretty frocks she wears, her eyes tend to glaze over, and the poor child seems to be somewhat lost in her thoughts.

She vaguely remembers her past, and is compelled to wonder if it had ever been, if at all, tragic. All she knows is that she has no blood-related family to return to and must therefore stay with the Chadwicks or go back to the orphanage.

Emily has, however, forged relationships with a decent few. She was quite close to Uncle Cam, who’d now gone to serve in the army, Elizabeth and Joy, both of whom she met at Honeydukes, Morgan - the boy she met in some dark, ominous alley she had yet a name for, and whose cardboard box of a shelter she’s taken to and of course, that strange girl at the field who thought she was a fairy. They were a very strange lot.

At this point, she has been recently exposed to magic and has come to accept that she, too, possessed some of her own. She’d noticed whenever she was overwhelmed with emotions, strange things would happen. These things happened very rarely, however, and she could only recall some; a candle lighting up all by itself, window shutters bursting open even when there was little to no breeze in the area. Little things like that.

When she’d been handed a letter of acceptance from that Hogwarts place Joy had been talking about - she was thinking about what house she’d get sorted into. A house within a castle, imagine that! Looking over the requirements, she understood little except for ‘wand’ and ‘cauldron’. Uncle Cam had explained it to her that she was to be trained, that her magic needed to be controlled. Upon hearing such, she was not as excited as most children would seem to be. If it had meant not seeing Uncle Cam, then she did not want to go at all.

Whether she wanted to or not, one of the Chadwicks’ had taken her to this place called Diagon Alley where they would get her 'school supplies’. Begrudgingly, after several attempts of faking an illness (perhaps, she'd overdone it just a little), she dragged herself with them, from one store after another. At least she gotten this wand thingy, a handful of huge tomes, some weird-sounding apparatuses, and a pet kitten, a Russian Blue, they told her. She named him Ash (or Coal should she change her mind) for his blue-grey colouring.   

With all of her paraphernalia (some of them stolen) packed into a wooden trunk (she thought that a suitcase would be much fitting, really, she wasn’t some medieval pauper), she been sent to this camp to join kids her age. Some impression she would make.

Which slightly cheered her up; at the very least if she couldn’t do much magic, she could show them that she was quite acrobatic. She’d show them that she was a talented soon-to-be gymnast in disguise. Well, she already was a gymnast and more, she thought to herself.

It definitely wasn’t a lie.

It was just a matter of time.

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

House Request: Slytherin, somehow, comes to mind.


Personality:

- Eager to please, very impressionable at the moment. Easily influenced by others.
- A bit of a show off with her acrobatic skills.
- Compulsive liar (a very good one) who may or may not be aware of it.
- Has the habit of pickpocketing (or something equally vindictive), especially those she doesn’t like.
- Ambitious with her goals and future. Perceives herself as a gifted gymnast despite her lack of training.
- Strays a lot in search of better company.
- Feels insecure about her upbringing and has the urge to lie to hide it.
- A little narcissistic, feels that she is entitled to all sorts of luxury.
- Self-destructive. (in future)

Appearance:
 
- Hair with the shade trapped between golden brown and rusted copper.
- Hazel-green eyes.
- Quite scrawny.
- Average height.
- Left-handed.

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

Her table was abuzz with all the Quidditch chatter. She could hardly keep up with the older kids who’d been gushing about all morning long. She wished they would just shut the heck up. They were having a discussion about the latest match about someone having dropped the quaffle and all that. She wasn’t particularly up-to-date with the sport but it intrigued her, nonetheless.

But the call of nature had Emily excusing herself from her table. She doubted anyone would care if she disappeared, really. That was one of the perks of being so little.

As she got up and strode down the aisle, she nearly collided with the larger figure that had suddenly turned around to face her.

"WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture!"

She hadn’t expected that, and she felt insulted, naturally. If he wanted to call himself a loser, then by all means; he was so rude and she didn’t what him to get away with that nasty quip.

“One, ‘am lookin’ at one right now. Two, I ‘ave no camera and why on earth would I want a pi-ture of ye? Three, would you please get out of the way, I really need to use the loo.”

She glared at the boy and turned her chin up in a condescending manner.

“D’you even know who yer talkin' to?”

→ ABOUT YOU.

Previous Characters (if applicable):None.

How did you find us?: Google!



6
Elsewhere Accepted / Re: Emily Hobbs - Child
« on: 02/02/2014 at 10:54 »
Hello, sir!

Thanks for reviewing my application. I think I've made all the necessary changes in my biography. Please let me know if I've left anything out... and I'll make sure to follow the site rating!

*I've also received a PM from Jessica that Em will be hosted by the Chadwicks.

Em

7
Elsewhere Accepted / Emily Hobbs - Child
« on: 21/01/2014 at 16:56 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Emily Abigail Hobbs
 
Gender: Female

Age: 10 yrs old, Jan 4 1930

Bloodline:
Muggleborn

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Emilia Hobbs (26, mother, DECEASED)

Residence:
Somewhere in London. She’s an orphan. Would love to have a family to adopt her.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
None that I know of.

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Nope.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Type your response here.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)

At the age of ten, she was getting tired of the ‘How are you’s thrown at her face. She always tells them she’s ‘Fine’, flashing a winning smile each time she did. But the question would always come up and she would have to answer; she wondered how she would tolerate it when she grew older.

There was nothing ‘fine’ about her situation, of course, far from that.

Nearly 3 years ago, it was just the two of them. Mum and Emily. Now, it was just her, Emily Hobbs. Emily had never asked about her father, she had the feeling she already knew the answer to that.

Before Emilia winked out of her life, her mother was always getting fired from her multiple jobs. Yes, multiple, because she couldn’t just stay in one, much less stay sober in another. In the morning would reek of alcohol and something else, she couldn’t tell.

No, her mum was not a loose woman, but she had lots of boyfriends, Emily could name each one easily. They came and went every few months, and the stench of liquor and misery would saturate their little cot - it was almost familiar.

Then, the Hobbs lived in poverty, rags and all. Since her mum couldn’t depended upon, Emily took to being the responsible one in the family. They were so impoverished that nearly two years ago, Emily had resorted to pick-pocketing, until she got adopted by the Chadwicks, of course.*

What started to be accidental became a game, then that game progressed on to become a habit, this - she reasoned, since her mum couldn’t take care of them - might as well as Em’s way of earning a living for her dysfunctional family. As much as she hated her mother for being irresponsible, she couldn’t possibly leave the woman all the same. After all, who had she to turn to? Nobody.

Emily Abigail Hobbs had a silver tongue; a charming and pretty girl, she could squeeze out a few tears if necessary and by then, her targets’ purses were pilfered within the blink of an eye. It was hard work, of course, there were times she was almost caught but she always got away somehow, from little white lies to outrageous ones, Emily could easily wiggle herself out of a situation... to get what it was exactly she wanted and when.

She had many acquaintances and fewer friends; even then she lied to them on a constant basis; not wanting them to know the lowly life she led, and what sort of person she really was. For as far as she knew, she’d been making up lies about her mother, and how she was an heiress to some grand estate, and her grandfather was a duke of some unknown land in the UK, and that Emily, herself, was a trained gymnast.

Lies, all of them. Well, the last one… she wanted that lie to be made truth. There were good memories to be had, when her mother was sober enough and was not leeching off of her boyfriends, when she made decent income and could afford meat. She could still recall when her mother brought her to a an outdoor show when she was around four, a group of men and women, all pale and foreign-looking, they did cartwheels, a series of complicated moves on a set of bars and beams.

The women, especially, were graceful as swans, they pranced around like they had wings on their feet, like their bodies were made of balloons as they lifted off into the air. Four-year-old Emily was in complete awe. In her excitement, she had caused a slight breeze to blow over the congregation, it was a sign of her magical roots, though she was not yet aware of it.

The dream stayed with her as she grew older, the ambition grew, too, and the next thing Em’s mother knew, her daughter was swinging on the swing’s metal bars like a monkey, agile and spry. It was the one thing that made Emily smile. She only lied about being ‘trained’ because she knew that eventually, she’d get there. Or so she kept telling herself.

Her memory dimmed as she tried to call back more memories... but all were faded and quite vague. She sat on the plush chair, swinging her legs in her restlessness. The adults were talking, it was all very hush hush, Em thought, and occasionally, they looked at her with eyes that screamed with pity. She hated people giving her those looks, it made her feel worse. Like scum.

The only vivid recollection to this day was her mother's disappearance. It all happened so quickly, and she was quite disorientated when she gained her bearings; the next thing she knew... her mother was gone. Emily had tried looking for her mother, calling for her until her voice strained and became hoarse. Emilia Hobbs, at the young age of 26, was nowhere to be found, as if she'd vanished into this air and never came back. Or perhaps, she'd planned this all along - giving up on Emily altogether, running away with some man she barely knew. That, Emily could understand. Why would anyone want to be saddled with someone like her, anyway?

Since then, she'd been staying in an Orphanage, and for some reason, the Matron had called for her; the day had come it seemed. The girls that were really not her friends had been eyeing her enviously - why they chose her, the girl didn't know. All she knew was that she was finally getting out of this place.

Her legs stops swinging, her sticky hands crumpled the fabric of her itchy dress. She sobbed, her salty tears flowed down in rivulets, steady and silent. It dawned on her that she truly had no one to hold, nothing she truly owned, nowhere to go to, no dream to pursue. 

She was truly alone in this world.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:

Before Timewarp

She was standing on the armrest of a bench, one foot in front of the other, perfectly balanced and unafraid. Her face was pointed the skies, her light green eyes surveying the moody clouds above. She’d pick-pocketed enough gentlemen today, and she thought she could use the break.

And she had promised her mum that she’d be at the park all day. Likewise, her mother had told her that she’d come for her before noon, but as usual, she was never on time, she'd probably gotten a little mullered, accompanied by her latest boyfriend ,Frank. She didn’t like him because he smoked a lot, and his grin was creepy, stained-teeth chalked up with yesterday’s dinner.

It was 15 minutes past 1 in the afternoon. Emily sighed, knowing that she would have to go home unaccompanied, making another excuse for her ‘heiress’ mother not showing up on time. The usual ‘the carriage probably broke down’ one, or the occasional ‘forgotten the time’. Emily shrugged it off, it didn’t matter because she didn’t expect anything more from her absent mother.

Emily jumped off the narrow armrest, landing securely onto the ground. She could’ve made a simple back flip, but alas, not many people frequented the park these days, if there were, she could've earned some coins. A couple of children were scattered across the square, and the lot didn’t seem to pay her much attention, which they should. She was going to a be a great gymnast someday, hopefully skilled enough to compete in the Olympics.

And besides, the armrest wasn’t exactly high enough, anyway. She could've broken her bad. The girl lifted her arms and began a cartwheel, and another… and midway through her third, she was caught off-guard by a tinny voice.

“You!”

Her dark blonde hair slapped her face as she turned around, seeking the source of that rude greeting.

"...Do you want to play?"

It was a girl, perhaps a little younger than she was; judging from her haughty posture, the brat was probably spoiled rotten. She was standing just some meters away. Em turned about face, her lips thinned into a tight smile, she didn’t have anything against rich kids, but it sort of really sucked that she was unable to live so freely like they did. With another cartwheel, she closed the distance between them.

“Are you sure you want to play with me? I’m not just somebody, y’know.”

With an arched brow, Em smirked and kicked off her feet into a walking handstand, her legs crossed at the ankles.

From her vantage point, everything was upside down, and she wished that reality was just so; she was rich and could afford formal gymnastics training. It will be her reality soon, she would make it so - even if she had to lie throughout her life to do just that.

“Do you know what a gymnast is?’


OTHER
How did you find us? Google

Pages: [1]