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Author Topic: Josephine "Hazel" Quinn || Elsewhere Child  (Read 219 times)

Hazel Quinn

    (10/05/2018 at 02:01)
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E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D


Character Name || Josephine Hazel Quinn ("Hazel")

Gender || Female

Age || Ten (20 January, 1943)


Andrew Quinn (Father - Deceased)
Jean Quinn (Mother - Deceased)
Alice Moore (Maternal Aunt - Current Guardian)

The countryside, outside of London.

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Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Hazel was always a bit of a wild girl, but her Auntie tells her that's only because she was born with a fire in her heart.

Hazel was born in a sleepy little town in Ireland, the kind where everyone had some kind of flower in the yard, and birds will sing you lullabies year round if you listen close enough. Some of her earliest memories involve walking around the lake with her father in the early morning, and sitting in the grass while her mother sewed in the evening, wind whispering through her hair. All of that changed when the fire happened. Hazel cried. 
They sent her to live with her Auntie when she was five years old. At first, Hazel hated the farm she now called home. Chickens ran about the yard, clucking as chickens will, and cows roamed the pastures in the distance. It was smelly, muddy, and worst of all, lonely. But with time, Hazel grew to love her new life. She ran through pastures with her hair flowing behind her, chased chickens with bare feet in the dirt, and rode horses up and down country roads. It was a solitary life, but goodness knows little Hazel had an imagination large enough to sustain her. This farm was her safe haven, her playground. At night, her Auntie would teach her how to sew, while telling her stories of daring women who went on grand adventures and defied all odds. It was these stories that created a spark in Hazel's young heart, while her Auntie watched it grow into a crackling flame, and Hazel grew up knowing that no labels would ever define her.

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:

It was a crisp summer day, the oppressive humidity surprisingly absent, and the sun smiled down on the world in a cheery way. It was the kind of day that reminded Hazel why she used to draw the sun with a smile.
Her Auntie was across the road at the grocery, buying milk or bread, though it didn't particularly matter. What mattered to Hazel was that she had an exciting total of about fifteen minutes to roam around this little playground, and "make friends," as her Auntie had said. In truth, both Alice and Hazel knew that making friends wasn't at the top of her bucket list, but the way the small child made a beeline for the swing set was enough to satisfy Alice. Hazel loved the swing, loved the way is made swishing sounds in her ears, and made her feel weightless in a way only a squeaky swing set could. This is where the child now sat, her blonde hair slipping from the neat bow at the base of her neck, her imagination wandering. . .
The sudden sound of a human voice, closer than it had been before, startled Hazel out of her daydreaming, and she looked down at the little girl with a frown. Hazel had seen the child chasing three older boys earlier, but the scene had passed by her blankly, just a mild amusement among her imagination. But now that a pouting child was before her, she felt bad for the little one. Being lonely was never fun.
". . . Do you want to play?"
Hazel thought about it a moment, her head tilted to one side, her powder blue eyes narrowed. No, she really didn't want to play. She was more of a solitary creature by nature. But the little girl's pleading eyes won her over, and finally she smiled softly, breathing a laugh through her nose in a very Hazel-y way.
"Sure, what do you want to play?"

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* Anneka Ivanova

    (15/05/2018 at 02:31)
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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