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Author Topic: Myfi Cadwallader  (Read 120 times)

Myfi Cadwallader

    (19/05/2017 at 08:36)
  • Busker / Thief
  • C11D8T7S6
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E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Myfi Betsan Cadwallader
Gender: Female.
Age: 21 (Feb 5, 1929).
Blood Status: Pure.

Education:
Rennet-Moss Group tutors.  The plan was to send her to Beauxbatons, but with the closing of that school, another option had to happen.  Her mother (grandmother) refused to send her to Hogwarts.  Instead, they hired tutors from a rather expensive firm of private instructors.  By the end of her studies, she had achieved an Exceeds Expectations N.E.W.T. score in Charms, and Acceptable in Divination.

Residence:
Formerly of Carreg Ddu, a small island in Gwynned, Wales.  A fairly difficult place for a muggle to reach.  Now living in Muggle London in a Boarding House.

Occupation
Currently unemployed, but works as a busker/thief.  A talented guitar and mandolin player, with her heart set on becoming a singer.

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?
Not at this time, though if an opportunity presents itself...

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 11
  • Divination: 8
  • Transfiguration: 7
  • Summoning: 6
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No.  Marvin Fleisher is my father, but we're different people.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
It wasn't until her seventeenth birthday that Myfi learned the truth: her older sister Stefani was not her sister all- but her mother.  The woman who had raised her was in fact her grandmother.  Their recently-deceased 'father' wasn't her father at all.

He was a famous childhood music star- now found in parts unknown.

Her entire life was a lie.  Her very sheltered, privately tutored, devoid-of-social-structure life was all for the birds.  It did explain things, though.  Why they lived in such a desolate place.  Why her cousins whispered at family gatherings whenever she and Stefani were around.  Why her sister referred to her as Mymy... it was actually 'my My'.  The hints were all there once the beans had been spilled.

These weren't magic beans, though.  These beans were named spite, and hurt, and betrayal.  Anger- so much Anger.  She needed to sort herself out.  Needed things to make sense.  So, without her "mother's" blessing or more than three sickles to her name, Myfi Cadwallader apparated to London.

At seventeen, she was legal enough.  Despairingly naive and habitually forgiving, she was utterly unprepared for London- muggle or otherwise.

That was five years ago.  She has made her living on the street, selling her music, plying her trade; only occasionally pulling off bits of hidden magic- when the rent was due or the gnawing knot in her stomach became too unbearable.  She was beyond subtle- most often, it was muggle sleight-of-hand that tamed her marks.  Only when things got difficult did she resort to wandwork.  Even then, it was mostly harmless- she was hungry, not hurtful.

And now, she had a name to add to her mystery father- Fleisher.

Roleplay: 
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:
It was coldBeyond cold, to be honest.  Cold enough to have abandoned her normal locations in the heart of London.  Her easy marks in the stupid muggles that wandered around like ants.  It was ridiculously easy, to tell the truth.  Most of the time, muggles paid for her music.  Like monkeys, they were drawn to her songs.  While not 'rich' by any means, she got by on her talent.  Most of the time.

Not today, it seemed.  The bitter cold threatened frostbite against the cold metal strings of her guitar, and the muggles had lost all their gusto with the falling snow.  Today, she braved the harsher waters- the more dangerous and delightful alleyways.

Wizarding London.

She'd been playing for a while now, pretty much non-stop, and only had a few knuts to show for it.  It seemed Wizarding London wasn't so appreciative of the arts.

She'd eyed her mark as soon as he'd left the shoppe.  It was easy to draw her wand between songs here.  People expected it of her, really.  She cast a warming charm on her hands- nothing out of the ordinary there.  Then, when people stopped paying attention, she glazed a patch of snow on the sidewalk into ice.

Then, as if oblivious, she went back to her guitar, starting another sorrowful song and playing her heart out.  She meant every word, though a small part of her was preparing...

The crash was spectacular.  She barely had time to get her guitar out of the way before she was boots-over-shoulders and scrunch! on her back.  A sudden impromptu snow-angel to compliment her art.

"Hey!  Watch it!" she cried, rubbing the back of her head as she elbowed herself to her feet.  She brushed herself off first, making a show that dirt and schmutz had been (possibly) permanently marred onto her leggings.  Then she turned around.

"Terribly sorry!  My fault- I didn't see you there!" she offered, giving him a hand to help him up, her other on his shoulder, his elbow.  "You've got snow all over your jacket here..." she added, releasing his hand and brushing her own down his back, stepping close to avoid further passers-by.

Here's the tricky part- comfortable light hands on the elbow or shoulder disappear when a rough touch takes over.  A closed-in stance puts the body off-kilter, ill-at-ease to those that they don't know.  Concentration falls away as defenses begin to, naturally, rise up.  There, in those brief, timeless seconds, that magic that even muggles can employ can be used.

Delicate fingers felt for a wallet, or- let's face it, she was in Wizarding London now- a coinpurse.  Found something of the sort she expected.  And ever-so-gingerly pulled.

OTHER
How did you find us? Other (my husband)

* Anneka Ivanova

    (22/05/2017 at 12:39)
  • ***
  • Hogwarts Headmistress
  • [Winner!] HSNet 30-Day Challenge
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Hi Myfi!

I really enjoyed reading your application! There is just one thing before we can accept your application. You have some very minor instances of powerplaying in your RP response, like  "releasing his hand and brushing her own down his back". While this isn't a real thread, once you do start doing those with other people, they might not appreciate you making those little assumptions like that he took her hand or didn't jerk away when she stepped closer.

Once you fix that, please post your entire revised application below and we'll be happy to take another look!
and if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free
to those who ground me, take a message back from me
tell them how I am defying gravity

Myfi Cadwallader

    (22/05/2017 at 16:00)
  • Busker / Thief
  • C11D8T7S6
    • View Profile

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Myfi Betsan Cadwallader
Gender: Female.
Age: 21 (Feb 5, 1929).
Blood Status: Pure.

Education: 
Rennet-Moss Group tutors.  The plan was to send her to Beauxbatons, but with the closing of that school, another option had to happen.  Her mother (grandmother) refused to send her to Hogwarts.  Instead, they hired tutors from a rather expensive firm of private instructors.  By the end of her studies, she had achieved an Exceeds Expectations N.E.W.T. score in Charms, and Acceptable in Divination.

Residence:
Formerly of Carreg Ddu, a small island in Gwynned, Wales.  A fairly difficult place for a muggle to reach.  Now living in Muggle London in a Boarding House.

Occupation
Currently unemployed, but works as a busker/thief.  A talented guitar and mandolin player, with her heart set on becoming a singer.

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?
Not at this time, though if an opportunity presents itself...

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 11
  • Divination: 8
  • Transfiguration: 7
  • Summoning: 6
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No.  Marvin Fleisher is my father, but we're different people.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
It wasn't until her seventeenth birthday that Myfi learned the truth: her older sister Stefani was not her sister all- but her mother.  The woman who had raised her was in fact her grandmother.  Their recently-deceased 'father' wasn't her father at all.

He was a famous childhood music star- now found in parts unknown.

Her entire life was a lie.  Her very sheltered, privately tutored, devoid-of-social-structure life was all for the birds.  It did explain things, though.  Why they lived in such a desolate place.  Why her cousins whispered at family gatherings whenever she and Stefani were around.  Why her sister referred to her as Mymy... it was actually 'my My'.  The hints were all there once the beans had been spilled.

These weren't magic beans, though.  These beans were named spite, and hurt, and betrayal.  Anger- so much Anger.  She needed to sort herself out.  Needed things to make sense.  So, without her "mother's" blessing or more than three sickles to her name, Myfi Cadwallader apparated to London.

At seventeen, she was legal enough.  Despairingly naive and habitually forgiving, she was utterly unprepared for London- muggle or otherwise.

That was five years ago.  She has made her living on the street, selling her music, plying her trade; only occasionally pulling off bits of hidden magic- when the rent was due or the gnawing knot in her stomach became too unbearable.  She was beyond subtle- most often, it was muggle sleight-of-hand that tamed her marks.  Only when things got difficult did she resort to wandwork.  Even then, it was mostly harmless- she was hungry, not hurtful.

And now, she had a name to add to her mystery father- Fleisher.[/i]

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

Option Two -

Roleplay Response:
It was coldBeyond cold, to be honest.  Cold enough to have abandoned her normal locations in the heart of London.  Her easy marks in the stupid muggles that wandered around like ants.  It was ridiculously easy, to tell the truth.  Most of the time, muggles paid for her music.  Like monkeys, they were drawn to her songs.  While not 'rich' by any means, she got by on her talent.  Most of the time.

Not today, it seemed.  The bitter cold threatened frostbite against the cold metal strings of her guitar, and the muggles had lost all their gusto with the falling snow.  Today, she braved the harsher waters- the more dangerous and delightful alleyways.

Wizarding London.

She'd been playing for a while now, pretty much non-stop, and only had a few knuts to show for it.  It seemed Wizarding London wasn't so appreciative of the arts.

She'd eyed her mark as soon as he'd left the shoppe.  It was easy to draw her wand between songs here.  People expected it of her, really.  She cast a warming charm on her hands- nothing out of the ordinary there.  Then, when people stopped paying attention, she glazed a patch of snow on the sidewalk into ice.

Then, as if oblivious, she went back to her guitar, starting another sorrowful song and playing her heart out.  She meant every word, though a small part of her was preparing...

The crash was spectacular.  She barely had time to get her guitar out of the way before she was boots-over-shoulders and scrunch! on her back.  A sudden impromptu snow-angel to compliment her art.

"Hey!  Watch it!" she cried, rubbing the back of her head as she elbowed herself to her feet.  She brushed herself off first, making a show that dirt and schmutz had been (possibly) permanently marred onto her leggings.  Then she turned around.

"Terribly sorry!  My fault- I didn't see you there!" she offered him a hand to help him up, her other aiming for his shoulder, then his elbow.  "You've got snow all over your jacket here..." she added, forgetting her earlier gesture towards his hand and moving to brush her own down his back, stepping close to avoid further passers-by.

Her intent- and here's the tricky part- comfortable light hands on the elbow or shoulder disappear when a rough touch takes over.  A closed-in stance puts the body off-kilter, ill-at-ease to those that they don't know.  Concentration falls away as defenses begin to, naturally, rise up.  There, in those brief, timeless seconds, that magic that even muggles can employ can be used.

If she played this right, her delicate fingers might feel for a wallet, or- let's face it, she was in Wizarding London now- a coinpurse.  If she were particularly skillful (and she was) and he was particularly distracted(and who could resist a pretty smile?) she would get a warm meal tonight.

OTHER
How did you find us? Other (my husband)

* Anneka Ivanova

    (29/05/2017 at 23:25)
  • ***
  • Hogwarts Headmistress
  • [Winner!] HSNet 30-Day Challenge
    • View Profile
Accepted!
and if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free
to those who ground me, take a message back from me
tell them how I am defying gravity

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