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Author Topic: Alastriona Underwood - Adult  (Read 269 times)

Alastríona Underwood

    (11/03/2015 at 10:09)

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Alastriona Underwood
Gender: Female
Age: 23 (23 April, 1921)
Blood Status: Pureblood

Ravenclaw House, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (class of 1939)

24 South Pine Street, Belfast

Auror trainee (previously in the secretary pool)

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?
Ministry of Magic -- Auror.

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 11
  • Divination: 6
  • Transfiguration: 8
  • 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:
Cedric Galyn et al.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Woe betide the unfortunate soul who interrupted her most precious time of day -- the devouring of parchment and long-since-dried ink and the solitary moments spent with words. Those who did were fixed with a hazel-green stare that mimicked the stab of a thorn; most intruders were quickly warded off and those that weren't earned eternal scorn.  Not that she was a disagreeable child in most respects, but reading was a pastime that she took exceptionally seriously.
It was an escape -- first from relatives dressed in black that kept on with their condolences until they were a sickly blue color.  Her mother had passed away of a frightful illness, suddenly and sadly, and yes little Asta mourned her death as a seven year old is wont to do.  But she was a practical child, and wise beyond her years enough to understand that dead was dead and no amount of tearful pats of a handkerchief could change what had happened. So instead of joining in with the sobbing, she read alone in a corner, and she mourned privately without a lot of fuss.

Then came a point when reading served to be a source of interesting topics to mull over, and thus came her second love of writing, at which time she began a diary of sorts.  Her older sister Blythe called it her Nonsense Book, for what sense could a ten year old make of Darwin and Keats?

A great deal, in fact, but Asta only smiled privately and paid no mind to the ignorance of lesser intelligences.

When she was twelve, her father married again, which Asta thought was curious since he didn't even seem to like the woman he'd chosen.  Asta didn't mind her, even when the new Mrs. Underwood called her "an odd fish," but Blythe minded very much.  After a summer of listening to shouting and fighting, it was a relief to return to school.  High up in Ravenclaw Tower, she made the windowsills her special place.  The years in the castle passed as a blur, marked only by the occasional interesting chapter -- a new half-brother in 1933, a beau in seventh year that lasted two weeks before he became utterly dull.  And finally, graduation in 1939.

It became quickly apparent in the world of adulthood that books, for all their knowledge, were not everything.  So she remade herself, an odd fish becoming  a swan.  And she set her sights on new goals -- unattainable goals, or so they said. Three years in the secretary pool later, she submitted her application to the Auror Office and finally received the permission needed to began exams.

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

Option One -
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 trod 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:
Park benches were lovely places to catch up on the day's reading, or more recently to study for the Auror exams.  Third time was the charm, not that she wasn't absolutely certain she'd aced the test twice prior. She'd heard that women had a harder time of it convincing the powers that be, but they couldn't ignore her forever.

A cry from the streets had the young woman glancing up, however, in time to watch another girl tumble, ignored by the crowd and left to her own devices.  Helpless creature, honestly, it hurt to watch her flop around like that.  Was she not a witch?  Oh true, squibs were not impossible, but there was a rather good chance this woman had plenty magical talent.

Another shriek. Oh Merlin.

With a sigh she rose from the bench and weaved into the crowd before bending down beside Amelia.  "Chivalry is apparently dead," Alastriona commented, extending a hand to the floundering reporter, eyeing a few of the gentlemen passing by.  "Just your pride, or are you injured?"

With a swift tug, she freed the broken shoe and quickly cast a Reparo to mend the heel.

How did you find us? I went over the bridge to Candy Mountain.

Pacifica Narcissa Paladin

    (11/03/2015 at 10:15)
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Accepted, yo.