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Archived Applications / Corina Lamont
« on: 18/12/2020 at 17:40 »
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Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Corina Lamont

Birthday: August 22, 1950

Hometown: Hogsmeade UK

Bloodline:
Muggleborn / Halfblood / Pureblood / Unknown

Magical Strength (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): First, Second

Biography:

Object 6f, Tortoiseshell Button, Owned by Dad John Lamont, collected 1956

Corina didn’t want to believe it, though Luca had no reason to lie to her.

Still.

Corina tucked herself into the small nook of her closet that was her special hiding spot. She’d been there for...who even knew how long. The watch she had pilfered had hands that ticked both forward and back, making the passage of time erratic and untrackable. Sitting cross legged on the floor, she leaned forward over the pile of treasures she had freed from their original owners. It wasn’t that she wanted to steal, and she understood that these things belonged to someone else. It was more like...she wanted to keep a piece of other people, a momento. She wanted to hold onto something permanent so she could have a reminder of people and places all the time.

She set the watch aside, and used a single finger to push a button to the center of her treasure pile, past the wrapper from her most recent chocolate frog and next to the single pearly earring whose match still sat in her mother’s jewelry box.

The button was tortoiseshell, about the size of a knut and worn smooth from use. The jacket it belonged to had not been taken out of circulation in spite of the button’s absence, though the man who it belonged to had, more than once, lamented the loss of the thing. Corina frowned at it, pushing it a little further away from her so that it sat next to a tooth that had fallen out of the mouth of the plimpy that Marina kept as a pet.

It didn’t seem to fit there, either, next to the reminder of her sister.

Corina pushed it further still so that it sat alone outside of the circle of her treasures. Her father’s button. Or not? Not her father? Corina furrowed her brow. Raluca had no reason to lie, and Corina knew knew knew that if she had said it then it was real.

He wasn’t her father.

She gathered up the rest of her treasures. A whisker from Sir Scratchalot. A thread and needle from the robe shop where she’d soon enough be getting fitted for her own Hogwarts robes. A single block with the letter L that she’d taken from the daycare that she certainly felt too old to be going to anymore (she was mature now, after all, practically a witch already, nearly beginning Hogwarts). Corina leaned back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.

If he wasn’t her dad, then who was? And what did any of it mean? She couldn’t ask her mom about it, not yet. No, there had to be some other way to get the information, and that meant that she’d have to leave the safety of her shelter, find Luca, and hatch a plan. After all, together they could do anything.

She pocketed the button before standing up. It would need to hit the burn pile--there was no reason to keep it now.

Object 19e, Salt Shaker Lid, Collected at Pasta Vino in the presence of Calvin Sharppe, Collected April 1957

Corina did not understand the fascination with boys. All shouting and scuffling and strange smells. Knights in shining armor only existed within the musty pages of Raluca’s books, and Corina was sure that even they clinked around in their metal suits, sweaty and ridiculous. She was no magpie, not drawn to those metal chest plates that glinted in sunlight.

But she wouldn’t turn down a meal.

The scents of sizzling garlic and lucious tomatoes bursting in hot pans filled the air, and her mouth watered at once. A gurgle burst from her stomach, but she felt no shame--after all, it seemed that everyone was so wrapped up in what Calvin Sharppe was up to that no one even noticed. Either that, or the sound was obscured by the clinking of silverware and plates and glasses that clinked in cheers throughout the establishment.

Plates of pasta floated through the air to tables nearby, forks twirling noodles and pepper mills turning in the air. She heard Marina introduce her to Calvin, felt her twin tense up at the exchange of names, but she just waved both things off with the only real thought on her mind what she would order and whether or not she could get away with eating half of Raluca’s meal.

Still, while everyone was distracted, she twisted the cap off of the salt shaker at the table and tucked it safely in her pocket. This boy was important to Marina, after all, so he couldn’t be totally worthless. And maybe if she catalogued the evening, she could make more sense of it.

At the very least, it would be a memento of a meal that was sure not to disappoint, even if it seemed that boys always did.

Object 7q, Glass Jar filled with ashes from Objects 1h, 2c, and 5n, burned in 1959

“You absolutely have to stop burning things in the yard. It’s dangerous, it scares the shrivelfigs, and it makes an absolute mess.” Her mother rubbed her forehead with forefinger and thumb, eyes closed. Exasperation marked her words, and a heavy sigh heaved her shoulders. “I don’t understand, Corina. We have had this conversation over and over.”

Corina crossed her arms in front of her chest, one eyebrow raised and toes turning circles on the kitchen floor. Mother took a sip of her tea and set the glass down on the table. It didn’t seem to have the fortifying effect she had hoped.

“Yes, but sometimes it’s in-ex-orable,” Corina tried out one of Luca’s words, feeling the syllables on her tongue like a strange flavor of Bertie Bott’s. She was almost sure that it was the right word. For a moment, her mother widened her eyes, and then covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a laugh.

“Is that your sister’s word?”

“Maybe,” Corina narrowed her gaze, not willing to admit outright that she didn’t entirely know what it meant. But she had needed to burn the feather from that boy at the park who had turned out to be a right git, the letter from Marina that had been nice to receive but didn’t really fit with the other objects in her collection, and the remnants of a cupcake wrapper from the sweet shop that had started to grow fuzzy green mold and threatened to taint the rest of her collection.

Besides, she had cleaned up the ashes--they went in their own collection.

“Between you burning half the yard down and your sister crushing the begonias with her tea parties, I just don’t know what to do with either of you.”

Corina shrugged, running her finger up and down the side of the smoky glass jar with the burned remains of the objects not fit for her collection. The cork top was sealed with dark green wax, and the edges of it bobbled along the vessel. “I won’t burn down the yard. I swear to Godric.”

“Just...please stop burning things.”

The girl nodded, dark curls swaying around her shoulders. She would not stop burning things when the need for it came, but she would certainly be more careful not to get caught.

Object 14r, Stub of red sealing wax, Collected at the book shop, Summer 1961

New books. New books! She hadn’t wanted Marina’s old tombs anyway, littered with someone else’s notes and annotations in a system that didn’t match her own. No, she would happily leave those to Luca. Because it meant that she got new books.

Corina tucked the stub of sealing wax from the bookshop into the box containing other waxen objects (several stray candle ends, a wax seal from her Hogwarts letter, bits of waxen wrappers from candies) and then cozied into her hiding spot in the closet. The books smelled new, like fresh paper and ink, and the pages were smooth and bright. The book’s spine was taught, unbroken and stiff.

Something new, something that was just hers. Something she didn’t have to share, could do with what she wished. No dented-in notebook with the first half-dozen pages scribbled in that she was allowed to repurpose, no patched up robes discarded by her older sister, no hand-me-down pets that she cared for in spite of lack of actual ownership. No, these were new, and they were hers.

She cradled them in her arms for a moment before opening the cover of the book. With a pen poised carefully over the page, she hesitated only a moment before scrawling in an overly-flowy script “Property of Corina Lamont, Eldest Twin and Rightful Owner. If Found, Please Return Immediately or Else.”

A grin brightened her face. Her own books. The perfect way to start her school year.

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

House Request: Surprise me, Sorting Hat

Personality:
Corina is steadfast, opinionated, and certain that she is only very rarely wrong. She imagines that she is a budding magioanthropologist, collecting and cataloguing artifacts from her day-to-day life. It might mean liberating objects from their original owners, but it is all in the name of science and history and therefore, in her mind, it is a worthwhile loss for those from whom the objects are pilfered.

Only occasionally do these objects require burning, if, for instance, the owners turn out to be right gits. But she will save the ashes, and she keeps a box of corked jars with those burnt remnants.

If something exists, she likely has an opinion on the matter--often formed in the moment and without much background or forethought. These opinions will be defended to the bitter end, and rarely retracted. Some call her stubborn, but she prefers the term stalwart, even if it does have the word wart in it.

Appearance:
Corina’s curls seem to precede her. They are as bold and unruly as she can be. Freckles spatter the bridge of her nose and cheeks, dotting her summer-tanned skin like the shell of a mottled egg.

Her left eyebrow is so often raised that there is conjecture that it just naturally sits higher than the other, but in truth she is stubborn and the gesture indicates that she is thinking of a way to prove herself right on the topic at hand.

Though her gestures are often exaggerated, she has a delicate touch which is a necessity to keep her penchant for knicking small objects a secret. She is deft and precise in her movements, when not waving her arms around in exasperation, and her smile is quick when she thinks something is clever.


→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not Evangeline's or Hugh's.

Option I:

The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet travelled since her arrival at Hogwarts.

A place she really was just fine with not knowing; but it was too late. The dare had been accepted, even if it had been done in fear of being kicked out of Gryffindor, like the older girls had said she would because Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.

The air changed instantly when she hit the main corridor of the dungeons. The dampness was almost too much for her and she instinctively took a deep breath to avoid the sensation of being suffocated. There was also a sour burning smell which Evangeline assumed was from many, many Potions lessons.

Further and further she walked, her steps so slow and gentle they made no noise against the stone walls and floor. The feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine and raised the tiny hair on the back of her neck. Shivering, Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she missed the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room. The fire was always going and it made her feel at ease.

Why had she let those girls talk her into this? She was only eleven, she didn't have to be brave. Surely the Headmistress would not kick her out of Hogwarts for not being brave.

If only she had these thoughts while being dared to search for the ghost of one Emma Birch, whom supposedly haunted the dungeons. It was not, Evangeline had learned, the place where the sixteen-year-old girl's life had ended but as she had been from the house with a snake as its mascot, it was the place her spirit had returned to. That common room was down here somewhere, she'd been told.

Something - the small blonde girl wasn't quite sure what - but something made her stop in her tracks suddenly. There was a low, dull thumping noise. Or maybe that was her heart beating so loudly she thought it was coming from outside her body.

"H-h-hello?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Remembering that she was supposed to be brave, Evangeline tried again.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

The sound of her own words bouncing back at her off the walls made her jump.



The dungeon wall was cool against Corina’s back, and her curls smooshed out from behind her head, pushed about wildly from their sheer volume and the threat of compression against a hard surface.

She pulled three scraps of parchment from her bag. They had been abandoned in a carrel in the library, neat penmanship crossed out, rewritten, and eventually discarded. At least, she assumed they had been discarded, given that they were left behind with no sight of their owner anywhere nearby.

Object 22c, Notes from Astronomy, Author Unknown, collected Fall 1961 she wrote carefully in her notebook, excited for the addition to her box of Hogwarts mementos. Evidence of study, likely an older student, with signs of perfectionism and frustration at the subject at hand.

She didn’t blame whoever owned the notes for their frustration--it looked terribly complicated, all star charts and alignments and maths to calculate the distances between planets and moons and other things that she rapidly lost interest in. Her purpose to having the notes wasn’t to learn the subject anyways, but rather to document her experience at the renowned school.

Before she could further examine the papers and their contents, though, a voice interrupted her careful cataloging.

”Hello! Is Emma Birch here?”

Corina sniffed, eyes rolling. Luckily, she had been warned of the useless prank by her older sister and knew better than to fall for the legend of Emma Birch. There were dozens of ghosts roaming the halls of the school, so why anyone should fall for the tale of a fake one was beyond her. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Stashing her new treasures back in her back along with her notebook, Corina stood and attempted to brush her hands at her hair to shape it back into something less of a mop and more of a mane. “I have it on very good authority that Emma Birch is just a story made up to scare first years.”


She took a few steps closer to the girl, surveying the mousey, frightening figure before her. She raised her left eyebrow, tutting. “I’m Corina Lamont.” She extended a hand. “And you really shouldn’t let other people scare you like this.”

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Fortnum et al.

How did you find us?: a board that was meant to be ez but was anything other than

2
Elsewhere Accepted / Corina Lamont || Child
« on: 18/05/2020 at 18:45 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Corina Lamont

Gender: Female

Age: 9

Bloodline:
Pureblood/Halfblood/Muggleborn/Squib

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?):
Elena Lamont (NPC)

Residence:
Hogsmeade

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Daycare

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Raluca Lamont, twin sister

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Marjorie Laskos, Dorian Fortnum, et al

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Corina didn’t want to believe it, though Luca had no reason to lie to her.

Still.

Corina tucked herself into the small nook of her closet that was her special hiding spot. She’d been there for...who even knew how long. The watch she had pilfered had hands that ticked both forward and back, making the passage of time erratic and untrackable. Sitting cross legged on the floor, she leaned forward over the pile of treasures she had freed from their original owners. It wasn’t that she wanted to steal, and she understood that these things belonged to someone else. It was more like...she wanted to keep a piece of other people, a momento. She wanted to hold onto something permanent so she could have a reminder of people and places all the time.

She set the watch aside, and used a single finger to push a button to the center of her treasure pile, past the wrapper from her most recent chocolate frog and next to the single pearly earring whose match still sat in her mother’s jewelry box.

The button was tortoiseshell, about the size of a knut and worn smooth from use. The jacket it belonged to had not been taken out of circulation in spite of the button’s absence, though the man who it belonged to had, more than once, lamented the loss of the thing. Corina frowned at it, pushing it a little further away from her so that it sat next to a tooth that had fallen out of the mouth of the plimpy that Marina kept as a pet.

It didn’t seem to fit there, either, next to the reminder of her sister.

Corina pushed it further still so that it sat alone outside of the circle of her treasures. Her father’s button. Or not? Not her father? Corina furrowed her brow. Raluca had no reason to lie, and Corina knew knew knew that if she had said it then it was real.

He wasn’t her father.

She gathered up the rest of her treasures. A whisker from Sir Scratchalot. A thread and needle from the robe shop where she’d soon enough be getting fitted for her own Hogwarts robes. A single block with the letter L that she’d taken from the daycare that she certainly felt too old to be going to anymore (she was mature now, after all, practically a witch already, nearly beginning Hogwarts). Corina leaned back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.

If he wasn’t her dad, then who was? And what did any of it mean? She couldn’t ask her mom about it, not yet. No, there had to be some other way to get the information, and that meant that she’d have to leave the safety of her shelter, find Luca, and hatch a plan. After all, together they could do anything.

She pocketed the button before standing up. It would need to hit the burn pile--there was no reason to keep it now.


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:
Corina dug with a stick in the dirt. It wasn’t for the sake of digging, though that did have its merits. No, this time it was because there was rock that seemed particularly glittery lodged partway into the soil and she wanted to free it from its shallow grave. A rock this polished, this special must have belonged to someone once, and she wanted to know more. The only way to manage that would be to palm the stone, press it against her fingers, examine it in the sunlight.

It was important work.

Important enough that the shouting and yelling of the other kids in the park could barely penetrate her focus. They could zip and zoom and do whatever it was they were doing, but she would become the new owner of this particular beauty that someone else had either lost or chosen to leave behind. Bronzite, maybe, or some other sort of jasper. Corina was sure she had a book somewhere about these stones, was sure it was Important.

And maybe, since rocks didn’t burn, she could pass it along to Raluca when she was done with it. It seemed like the sort of thing she could string onto a necklace or embed into a tiara or something else similar and dainty.

”You!”

Her focus broke along with the stick she’d been using for digging. Glaring up the girl, she stood from her crouched position and crossed her arms.

The girl huffed as much as Corina did, not looking like a particularly interesting playmate. And, to top it off, she had stopped Corina’s excavation and broken her tool for the work.

“Why should I?” she asked, lips curving into a frown.

OTHER
How did you find us? a wee bird whispered it to me long ago

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