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Messages - Maia Nettlebed

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Elsewhere Accepted / Maia Nettlebed | Elsewhere Adult
« on: 13/06/2018 at 03:46 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Maia Mae Nettlebed
Gender: Female
Age: 18 (b. 21 February 1936)
Blood Status: Pureblood

Education: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hufflepuff Class of 1954

Residence: Foxe Farm, Somerset, England

Occupation: Seventh Year

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?
Not for now.

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 7
  • Divination: 11
  • Transfiguration: 7
  • Summoning: 7

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so, who and for what IC reason?
The Fellwater/Nettlebed/Foxe crew.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Lucy Hopland & co.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
There’s a picture somewhere, probably stored in the bowels of the Orchard House, of a three-year-old Maia Mae Nettlebed crying as she holds her newborn sister, Vega, who is also crying. The picture is succeeded by a second and third for both Nashira’s and Rana’s birth respectively. The second and third photos aren’t much different from the first; Maia is there, crying as her new sister wails in her arms, much to the enjoyment of her parents. When asked on each occasion why she was crying, Maia answered simply: "Because she's so scared!" The pictures are very telling, then, of Maia’s personality, or what was to become her personality in the following years.

Even from a young age, Maia was sensitive to the emotions of others. Often times she was caught staring intently, as children so often do, at the faces of those around her. She would miss questions and whole conversations because she was caught up looking at their reactions. When asked a question, she would take a moment to think before answering, as if considering the repercussions her words would have.

At an age where children led with their mouths and not with their heads, this led many people to believe she was slow. Maia was not slow, she was everything but slow; she was eager yet sensitive--an alert, wide-eyed kitten stepping through an unknown doorway perhaps; she was intuitive, startlingly so; she was unbelievably understanding; she went about her life with her heart on her sleeve and her eyes closed, trusting the kindness of others to keep her from falling.

Her superpower is putting people at ease and making them feel included, a greatly underrated talent. This helped during her years at Hogwarts, where for the first time in her life, she found herself without a clan.

Her weakness is just how much she relies on those around her to keep her grounded.

When their father left, Maia was the least surprised of them all. If there was anyone she was the most in tune with emotions-wise, it would be--would've been her father; she saw his restlessness for what it was. And ultimately, undoubtedly, she was hurt. But what hurt more was the ricochet of trauma her father's abandonment left on her family. Here she was, a self-proclaimed castle-builder, with the sand crumbling between her fingertips, unable to rebuild the foundation of their family as quickly as it was flooding.

She loathes her father now not because he left them--having inherited his need for freedom, of being unbound by commitments, she understood why he ran away--but because she was left alone to pick up the pieces, and not even she was ready for that burden.

She reckons now, years later, that the time she spent keeping her sisters afloat amidst their turmoil took away from her own healing. She reckons now that the escapist tendencies she has are a direct result of that time, of not knowing where else to turn but inward.

Maia is dreamy, willful, and unstable--in that she believes what's expected of her today, tomorrow, and in the future is constantly changing--though, admittedly, she seeks stability in every other aspect of her life. Despite her idiosyncratic behavior, she holds herself to the utmost standard, not that you'll believe it by looking at her. She refuses criticism because she's a non-conformist and someone else's ideas most likely don't align with her own.

She will heal you if you let her. She will leave you even if you don't let her.

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 trot 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:
She had a list from her mother:

Maia, don't forget the detergent, owl feed, and the dry-cleaning. Love, mom.

A list from Vega (pre-approved by their mother):

M, get moonstone, syrup of hellebore, unicorn horn, and porcupine quills. Also go to Potage's and see if they have my brass cauldron yet. --V

And funnily enough, a list from Rana that she was sure hadn't been given the a-okay:

Mimi please get this stuff!! 4 sugar quills, 1 quart size bag of Wriggly's Gummy Worms but the tropical kind okay? and 3 exploding bon bons. <3 rana

(That one she tucked into the small pouch that contained her personal allowance.)

It seemed this was what she had been relegated to, a cute, unpaid errandgirl. Admittedly, this was better than what she had left behind--a steaming pile of manure waiting to be shoveled away. That duty now fell on Nashira and Vega, because, for once, being the eldest had paid off. Her mother hadn't thought her younger siblings capable of making the trudge out to Diagon Alley on their own. Maia, sensing the hesitation on who to send, had jumped on the opportunity to escape. In that moment, she'd capitalized on her mother's fear for their safety, a fact she was remorseful about now.

(But when she remembered how she left them, with Vega and Nashira up to their knees in horse excrement, her regret was short-lived.)

Maia followed the crowd as they twisted and churned through the slim streets of the Alley. As she rounded the corner heading north towards Meg's Owls, she heard rather than saw the woman's demise.

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

Immediately, Maia faltered in her steps, taken aback by the sheer distress in the woman's voice--over a heel no less. The crowd didn't take kindly to her pause, however, pushing her off the side as she worked her way back towards the stranger. The hand that clutched her purse was the first to peek through the crowd, and when she fully emerged, she was breathless.

"Here--le--let me help!" She wasted no time in getting on her knees beside the woman. "You pull in and I'll try to wriggle it out."

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