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Author Topic: Ermengarde F. Chaucer  (Read 493 times)

Ermengarde F. Chaucer

    (10/12/2011 at 18:35)
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Name: Ermengarde Chaucer, Ermen

Former Character's Name (if you had one): Phaedra Spekt

House Request: I don't feel very strongly about this, but sort of vaguely --

I don’t see Ermengarde fitting into any of the houses. Although from the looks of her, she’s a surefire Hufflepuff - weak, manipulated and all - I think that she’d really need some of the loyalty and hard work to fit in there at all (or at least a desire to in the future do so). Because of this, I think I see a house standing out due to her aspirations alone, namely that she would like more than anything to be big, brave, strong. She, for all intents and purposes, begins with a clean slate and a potential to be anything. This perfectly reckless Gryffindor is who she’d like to be (although I don’t see this happening at all).

Year: 2, 3

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring/Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration

Her hand shook as she grasped the key, and it was with fumbling fingers that she pushed the door open with a great, heaving shove. Her sister had told her to, and, really, after she had asked so nicely and commented so fondly on the state of her intelligence, who could resist? Ermengarde didn’t know whether this was flattery and didn’t particularly care. Someone was recognizing her as smart, and that was all that mattered. Genevieve would cajole her about it for ages afterword, and speak not even in the low, guttural tones that were generally acceptable for gossip of how unbelievably naive she was, but for now, she was it.

For now, for now, for now…

With a tremble in her walk, she stepped inside the attic and began to hurriedly walk toward the crates, only to stop short once more as she registered what exactly it was she was walking into (danger) and run back to the door with nary a fleeting glance at the prize to which she had been so fixated on just a moment before.

Danger had always accompanied her, but she had always shied away from it all the same. It seemed to be very distinctly accompanied by risk - risk of losing her life in imagined circumstances, risk of losing her already-meager reputation in real ones. No matter the reward, she would not face danger.

Now safely out of the treacherous attic, though, she thought for just a fleeting moment of going back in there - it couldn’t be that bad, after all, and wouldn’t this prove her intelligence? Get her out of Genevieve’s sight for just one moment longer? No - and leave her life hanging on the smallest of little threads. Whatever the implausibility of that was, it didn’t phase her and she stopped viewing the crawl space through a narrow lens of retrospect immediately, in favor of running and hiding in her closet.

“Genevieve, Genevieve, don’t look for me, please?”

Her knees quaked a little as she spoke, and wondered whether or not her intimately important sister was in a proper spot to hear her. A primal instinct deep within her hoped not, very much fearing her gleeful rescinding of any calls of intelligence that would no doubt follow. The blond’s eyes squeezed tightly shut, and a wayward left thumb made its way to her mouth.


Please include these sections if they are not addressed in your biography.

Personality: Really, Ermengarde is a bumbling idiot. She thinks very highly of her own intelligence although she is a fool, and therefore allows just about anybody who can flatter complete control over her body and mind. She is indecisive (really doesn’t do anything without someone in a position of power to convince her it’s good), somewhat weak: there aren’t too many redeeming traits out there, but one of the few is her steadfast honesty - although that may or may not be a matter of lack of tact - and that she works very hard to reach her goals, whatever they may be. She also very much craves people in positions of authority to tell her what to do and give her the benefit of blissful ignorance (although you have to ask nicely - rudeness is met with a very distinct, very persuasive glare). Anxious, indecisive, follower, honest, fool.

Appearance: Ermen began life as a very fat little baby, but since has progressed to a much better looking eleven year old. Her eyes are sort of naive (just as her body) and sink in more often than not from lack of sleep, but she has a very striking face and her small, innocent body manages to win more people over than her daft demeanor does.


Option II: “Oh, come now!"

Astrid Bixby’s voice carried down the corridor, the tall blonde girl not far behind. Her interviewee – or victim, depending on perspective – turned a corner and she frowned. They were always soelusive when she needed them. Sure, they would talk as if there was no tomorrow during class, but once she actually needed them to say something, they were nowhere to be found. Gryffindors.

Flustered, Astrid stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared, her parchment hanging limply from her hand. She was a good reporter, really, and she always did her best to make sure that everything she wrote was accurate. She glanced down to the quill, eyeing it with disdain. It wasn’t her fault if her quill misquoted. How was she supposed to know? It made for interesting articles, at least, and if she had misquoted the Head Boy last term as saying he had a love for stuffed animals, then that gave him personality. Astrid sighed.

A pout formed on her lips as she turned away, discouraged. The corridor was mercifully empty, though the doors to The Spellbound – the school newspaper – were ominously closed. Corbridge was a mercifully sweet editor, but Astrid was terrified of disappointing her all the same. She hadto come back with quotes.
Her eyes, blue, trailed her surroundings before choosing a new path, and she turned down a new corridor. A figure was ahead, and her eyes lit up, an impossibly rosy smile blossoming across her lips.

“Hey!” Astrid called, her voice light and singsong. She trotted to catch the person, her shoes clicking on the stone floor. “Wait up! It’s for the paper!” Her legs aided her admittedly poor running, and Astrid gasped as she came closer. “What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”

Sample Roleplay Response:

Ermengarde had been somewhat surprised to have been sorted at all.

In the moments after the act, all she could feel was a great, sweeping wave of relief - so great she nearly fell down. Genevieve had said she wouldn't and yet she had. There was just cause to be very, very proud, indeed, and proud she did feel - an act that didn't wear off quickly and still was a large part of her measly attempts of conversation six weeks after, long after everyone else's vague joy had given way to the ambivalence that would haunt them throughout the rest of their Hogwarts career.

But, no, Ermengarde belonged here, and it was good.

She lounged in bed for a while each morning - a luxury that had never been allowed in shared rooms with strictly snoring siblings - and on this particular one, was on her way downstairs to the Great Hall as an older child apprehended her and demanded her attention.

“What?” the blond yawned, and stretched a hand out lazily for the girl to shake. “Are you important - you are important, right?” She hoped so, for she felt rather strongly that she would like to answer this question, and felt that it would not be an intelligent thing to do if she were some sort of ‘plebe’ or whoever Genevieve was always complaining about.

“If so, I find them quite delicious, you know? They could use a bit more fat, though, isn’t that a very courageous thought?” Ermen beamed up at the girl, sure that she had made a very, very favourable impression on her.

Professor Tibble

    (10/12/2011 at 19:21)
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Dear Miss Chaucer,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Term begins on 1st January.

Yours sincerely,

Professor A Tibble