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Author Topic: Blanche C. Artois | Elsewhere Child  (Read 285 times)

Blanche C. Artois

    (25/12/2014 at 09:03)
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

Character Name: Blanche Camille Artois

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Bloodline: Muggleborn [ registered as a Pureblood ]

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Cherilyn Laney Artois and Robert Gabriel Artois are Blanche's parents, but passed away shortly after her birth. She is currently looked after by her maid, Lynn Parker. All are currently NPCs.

The Artois' England manor, located in the countryside near London.

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

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:
Rin Hunter and co.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)


I had been devastated when father died. Since I had no mother growing up, as she had died giving birth to me, my father was the only close family I had left. What made it even worse was the fact that he was murdered. To think, someone out there hated him enough to shorten his life, the life that could have been spent with me. The police were on the case immediately, with our family carrying royal blood in our veins, we might as well have been royalty. The forensic scientists were very good, and the murder was caught within the month. It had been Cass, my cousin, wanting to hurry up the process of my father dying, so he could inherit what he was entitled to. His face was truly a sight to behold when he was arrested, and all of the money he was owed by my father was given to me.

Now in possession of a small fortune, I had no idea on what to do with myself. I had never been outside the house for more than an hour, let alone gone to school, my father believed in home schooling. Besides, I was taught politics, which I doubted any school would teach, in order to gain enough knowledge to keep my soon to be title of 'Countess of Artois'. It was a position that held much power and esteem, but with that came great danger. I was constantly in the company of my bodyguards, it was rather suffocating really- but it was dear Lynn that helped me get over my father's passing. She had always looked after me, ever since I was born, and went high past the expectations for a personal maid- she was the mother I never had. She had been the only one who didn't brush away my (what I thought to be) ludicrous fantasies, it had been from a young age that I showed signs of magic, but everyone had dismissed it as a coincidence, and, eventually, I grew to believe it as well.

It had happened during the ceremony of which I would officially receive my title. I had closed my eyes for a few moments, and opened them to find the whole hall empty. I remember it clear as daylight. The first thing I had done was run out and demanded the first person in my sights to tell me where I was.

"You! What in the God's name is going on?!"

It shouldn't have been a surprise to me when the man shrank back in fear, I must have been a fearsome picture in that moment. The poor man looked like he was warring with himself, wondering whether he should call the police or try and help. I had been too panicked to pick up on these signs, and decided more forceful methods were in need.

"I don't think you understand- as the Countess of Artois, you will answer me- or you can bid farewell to everything you own!"

It had been at these words, the man visibly paled. To say he had been shocked would have been a huge understatement, whether it was at the blackmail or my title, I would never know. He had called the police in the end, and had explained my current situation to the officer. My mind was still too unstable to process it all, but the next thing I knew I was back at the Artois Manor, but something seemed different.

When I had walked inside, where you would see the portraits of family heads in a line on the wall, I found a few to be missing- those paintings were rarely, if ever, taken off the wall. They told be I was being taken to see the Lord of the Manor- I told them that it was impossible, that he was dead, and they all looked at me as if I were mad! The nerve, they were simply servants, they were in no position to mock an Artois! I walked into my father's study, and much to my horror there was another man sitting there. My blood had started to boil as I felt an anger so strong like nothing I had ever felt before, it was so un-ladylike I cringe even at the thought of it. I had shouted at him, demanding for an explanation, I had started crying- to be frank, I had completely shattered. I was too busy minding myself to notice the spark of recognition in his eyes.


People didn't usually call one by their middle name, but it was clear this 'Cécile' girl was very dear to the man- who looked like he had saw a ghost. I remember him standing up, his legs shaking slightly. I had tried to step back as he walked towards me, but my legs wouldn't respond. The look in his eyes...

...It was just how father would look at me...

He touched my face, as if to check if I was real, before he broke into tears and hugged me. I would have pushed away, I should have, but, I had been yearning for the love only family could give you for so long, it seemed wrong to fight it.

I was now Cécile Laney Artois, but I'd had enough family history lessons to find the name familiar. This was my great aunt, who had passed away due to sickness as a child. If I was correct, then the man standing before me was Damien Cosme Artois- my great, great grandfather...but how was this possible? The whole situation was like a puzzle, one which I couldn't solve. I hated it. I hated not knowing. It put you at a disadvantage- it made you weak.

I didn't want to be weak.

I had found you (or had you found me?) whilst I was getting dressed into clean clothes, another maid was helping me to get dressed, and you came in with a glass of water. You had a look of such shock on your face, and you dropped the glass as well. I had been equally surprised- out of all people, I don't think we expected to see each other there.

Isn't that right, Lynn?

Once I was finally left alone, you came to me. You knew what was going on, and you had told me, but what I was most thankful for was the fact that you were here. You had always been like a mother to me, Lynn, so I had missed you terribly and longed for your comforting words. When you explained it all, I had been awfully confused, a 'squib' you had called yourself, and I at first thought it was some kind of nickname. You had told me of my distant relative, who was a Wizard, and how that meant I had some magic potential in me.

She told me I was a Witch.

Over the next few years, I learnt more about this 'Wizarding World' I was apparently a part of, the wonders of magic, and how my tall tales were in facts. I learnt of the horrors of this world, the prejudice against muggleborns, against me. I learnt how I would never be able to get a respectable role there, due to my heritage, and how I would be looked down on, should I ever go to this world. It had all sounded so like a dream, I found myself craving to see it all for myself, so I had left one day, ordering for you to come along with me, and that was the start of it all.

We had gone to Diagon Alley, it was amazing, the way everyone was dressed, robes and hats, it was just like a picture out of one of my storybooks. I had noticed the badges some were wearing, and remembered you telling me of them a few weeks ago. This new law which was laid to further humiliate those who weren't of pureblood. I had yet to sign up, I was still deciding whether I even wanted to be a part of this- but I guess I didn't have much of a choice. I had bumped into someone, who had at first looked down at me in disdain, he seemed to be searching for something on me, but apparently he found something he liked and smiled at me.

"I'm terribly sorry, young lady, I wasn't looking where I was going."

The man seemed polite enough, and I had said something along the same words politely in reply. At this, the man let out a hearty laugh, and I had let down my guard and relaxed slightly.

"It's good to see some of us still had some manners. Purebloods like you and me dear are going to grow awfully tired of the rest of them, so ill mannered- they don't even know their place. Don't you think so?"

I had been confused at first, but then I caught on. My lack of badge, the way I held myself, it all made sense. Everything about me had screamed 'Pureblood', my high status in the muggle world made me act as one with a high status in the Wizarding World. It was then when everything you had said concerning the discrimination against Halfbloods and Muggleborns, and then I decided I didn't want to be looked down on. I wanted to be treated with the same high regards I was treated with in the Muggle world in the Wizarding world. If I would have to lie for that, so be it.

"Of course, father always said Muggleborns are the vermin of the Wizarding world."

With this, I added a fake laugh, and the man seemed satisfied with my answer. He said one more thing, before going on his way.

I could see your disapproval, and I wanted to apologize, to make you happy with me again. I can't be looked down on, how will I make father and mother proud of me if I can't even be respected for doing anything? I'm explaining it all to you now, but let's face it.

You'd never understand.

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:

Hearing such an accusing tone being directed towards her, Blanche jumped, almost falling into a stumble. Her eyes widened with panic, had she been caught? She had recently signed up with the blood registry, not as a muggleborn- but as a pureblood, and was now living in fear, waiting for someone to stop her in the streets and confront her of her crime. She was about to break into a run, when she realized it was just a child- she relaxed slightly, but still stayed on guard. Who knows what the children of the Wizarding world were like- perhaps they enjoyed turning one another into frogs- she knew in stories witches had a thing for turning people into frogs, princes in particular.

"...Do you want to play?"

Letting out a small sign of relief, Blanche let a small smile creep onto her face. The girl was cute, she noted, and she always had a spot for cute things. If there was a cute animal in her garden, she would imminently start fawning over it and try and pet it, to no avail most of the time.

"I-I guess I wouldn't mind..."

Maybe playing with this little girl would take her mind of her current problems for the time being, and she would be able to act more natural, and hopefully less suspicious. She saw the broom in the girls hands, and remembered the boys who had flown past her not too long ago, and realized with mild amusement that at least one thing she had thought she had known about witches was true. Flying around on broomsticks, sounded like fun. She now found herself desperately wanting to give it a go.

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Martin Hawksworth

    (07/01/2015 at 00:39)
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