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Author Topic: Ophelia Aurielle Devereux  (Read 288 times)

Ophelia Devereux

    (28/01/2015 at 12:51)

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Ophelia Aurielle Devereux
Gender: Female
Age: 21 (b. 8th April, 1922)
Blood Status: Pureblood

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, 1933 - 1938 (graduated in 5 yrs. at age 16)

Apartment in Covent Gardens, London

(Going to be applying to the Ministry of Magic.)

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?
The Ministry

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 11
  • Divination: 5
  • Transfiguration: 9
  • Summoning: 7

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:
Lucille Hopland, et al.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Ophelia Aurielle Devereux had been a bouncing glittering mess of platinum blonde hair and dreamy smiles, hands too muddy for the dresses she wore, with shoes too large to fill.

Passionate and idiosyncratic, even as a child, she’d never been able to fit in. She had crooked teeth for one, and in high society ladies were expected to be precise in their appearance from the very beginning – especially from the very beginning. But her crooked teeth were her mark of individuality; they were peculiar to others, yet her own.

Her love for animals came next. It was messy, it croaked, it slid, it crawled and at one time it spit fire, but never had it faltered. Even when it pulled her perfectly pleated braids, or hid under her bed for weeks, rotting the room with its ungodly smells, she’d never been happier than she was when introduced to a new animal. But her parents could only take so much. She was an only child, a pureblood, and she was expected to act as much.

In her seventh year, after the third loss of what was supposed to be her one and only brother, Ophelia no longer smiled as much. Instead, she drifted. She drifted through the halls of the Devereux Manor with a cautious smile on her face, watery almost, while the feet that carried her were quick to scamper.

She was used to looking over her shoulder by then in case the thundering footfalls of her father followed by the softer pitter-patter of her mother came rushing towards her. She knew by then to duck into the nearest room, because, no, they didn’t want to see her latest creation, nor did they care about the animal she’d found, nor hear the piano piece the tutor they hired had so brutally beaten into her fingers.

They cared about one thing and one thing only, and that one thing was buried underneath piles of dirt at St. Laurent-Joseph cimetière with a tombstone with two dates on it, the days back to back, decorating the grass above.

Upon entering the Academia, Ophelia realized that things would be much better. She flourished under the attention of her peers and advisors. She felt comfortable doing what she loved, question everything and anything and leaving no topic undisturbed, so much so that the education meant to last seven years had condensed itself into five. Finally, she realized, the truth had come to light.

Her innate curiosity was not because she was bored; she didn’t memorize the entire system of bionomenclature and then apply it to three species of Rushing Dragonfish for attention; she didn’t want to be the smartest of her class – she simply was. Finally her parents would see her for what she was and acknowledge that despite the fact that she wasn’t obviously male, she was still a genius and could do thrice that of any other male heir they knew.

They died without letting her prove herself however, and Ophelia recognized she’d never be able know then if they truly saw her for what she was - intelligent, beautiful, and lonely.

You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option Two -
The snow had been falling steadily all morning and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Joshua Campbell scrunched his face up in a frown as he lifted his gaze to look to the sky. Snow. It really was quite a bother.

And it certainly didn't make it better that Diagon Alley seemed to be getting more and more crowded. Joshua sighed and pointed his wand at the large box that was currently placed on the doorstep of his shop. He had to get going. He had an order to deliver.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The elderly man muttered and watched the box hover in the air for a moment. Honestly, did St. Mungo's really need that much tinsel? And with glitter of all things? He sighed again. If it hadn't been for the rather convincing stamp on the order, he would have been likely to believe it had been a prank by one of those orphaned rascals living up there. 

Oh well, there was no point in waiting. Joshua deftly stirred the box down the doorstep and out onto the street, carefully levitating it above the heads of the crowd.

"Coming through! Coming through!" His voice sounded over the chatter of the crowd. "Keep out! Move ahead! Go on!" This was going way too slow. People were in the way and walking like they had all day! He huffed. Luckily the road was down hill.

"Coming through! Coming th--- arrrgh!" Joshua let out a loud shout as his feet suddenly slipped in the snow and sent him, the box, and several long strands of tinsel tumbling into the person who had been walking in front of him.

"For Merlin's sake!" Joshua muttered angrily as he hurried to his feet again, red and gold tinsel now decorating his black coat. "I am so sorry! This blasted snow!" He looked apologetic at the person he had crashed into.

Roleplay Response:
She’d need tinsel, and a few of those tiny tree decorations, and some wrapping paper, too. And perhaps if she asked nicely, the comely old man at the tree store would let her have one of the miniature ones.

There was no need for a giant monster of a spruce, as it was just her this year. It had been for the past few (-approximately five years, thirteen days, and twenty-three hours-) and there were no cousins around to share the Christmas cheer with. Her fault, really. After spending so much time away, she’d forced herself to imagine that the less contact she had with them while on her trip the easier the distance would be to bear. Though, she couldn’t imagine the words they’d have for her upon returning – if she ever managed to do so.

So, this time it was well and truly just her, and an odd experience it was going shopping for one person only.

Sleek hair was tied in a low bun, the front part of her hairdo delicately fluffed, and every so often her hair would shift and loosen as she sought to catch a few stray snowflakes with her tongue.

The Christmas cheer was clearly upon them, and Ophelia couldn’t have been happier.

“Oomf!” The box of tinsel hit her in the back and the stranger’s feet in the ankles, but thankfully she’d managed to catch herself by the sleeve of the passerby in front of her. Apologizing and accepting apologies was a little hard to do when the streak of tinsel she’d been looking for had literally draped itself over her forehead in their tumble.

Her shoulders shook with barely repressed laughter as she propped her hands against her knees to steady herself.

“It’s quite alright. Where I come from, meetings like these typically bring good fortune!”

She shook her head and the tinsel slid off her face and back into the box.

“I’m Ophelia, and you-?”

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* Cedric Galyn

    (28/01/2015 at 19:11)
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