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Author Topic: Gabriela E. Stoyanova  (Read 208 times)

Gabriela E. Stoyanova

    (01/07/2019 at 00:28)
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Character Name: Gabriela 'Gaby' Ekaterina Stoyanova

Gender: female

Age: fifteen

Bloodline: the purest

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Ioana Valentina Stoyanova (NPC)
Dragan Aleksandar Stoyanov (NPC)

Sofia, Bulgaria / currently a student at Durmstrang Institute

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

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:
Nina McCormick

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
The only child of Bulgarian pureblood aristocrats, Gabriela's parents were surprisingly uninvolved in her childhood. Their family are massively elitist, choosing only to socialise with other Eastern European pureblooded families. Her father is a businessman, closely involved with the Bulgarian government, her mother a socialite. She was largely raised by nannies, and schooled alone by various teachers hired by her parents until old enough to attend Durmstrang.

With growing political tensions in Muggle Bulgaria, her parents have recently made the decision to relocate to London, and are hence moving Gaby from Durmstrang to Hogwarts in the coming term, which she is very much not looking forward to.

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:
Claws varnished black tugged at chocolate mink, pulling a coat laughably inappropriate for the weather closer to the slender neck of a striking young witch. She wore a cloak, crafted of fur so thick it disguised her slight build, black woollen tights, patent boots with a small heel, and a pout; her parents had lied. England was not half as cold as they said it was.

The sun seemed smaller in the sky than it was in Gaby's native Bulgaria: a cold, white star providing no warmth to her face nor comfort for being in a strange new country. Nonetheless, there were no clouds to shield it, so her coat was most certainly overkill, and she began to feel uncomfortable. Of course, removing it would have ruined her ensemble, so she was left with no choice but to pace it to her destination.

This park certainly did not give her the best impression of England. It was pathetic, like everything else this country had offered to her so far. Why, oh why her parents had chosen to relocate here, she had no idea. The grass was short and downtrodden, some areas completely bald, the trees like miniatures, overly pruned and a quarter of the size of those at home. Any sound of nature, birds singing or wind blowing through the few trees, had been completely drowned out by the sound of screaming children. They frolicked about on cheap broomsticks, without a glimmer of technique or poise, their parents nowhere in sight. Judging by their behaviour, Gaby did not have a shadow of a doubt: their blood was dirtier than the mud they played in.

They were sticky, disgusting. She hated children. Obviously, at fifteen years old, Gaby was most certainly not a child. She was mature for her age. Even the sixth year boys at Durmstrang said so.


She let out a sigh. The brat was staring straight at her. She made a conscious effort to soften her expression, which had absentmindedly turned to resemble something of the face she pulled the first time her father gave her vodka on Christmas.

"...Do you want to play?"

A smile spread across Gaby's cheeks, but did not reach her eyes, as she knelt down to be eye to eye with the little girl.

"Of course," she cooed, sickly sweet, widening her eyes. She felt nauseous hearing herself, but ignoring the child would not have been worth it - it never was. "But you're going to have to give me your broom."

It went without saying, Gaby's intentions were not to steal a run down safety broom. She had multiple real broomsticks at home, and the Galleons to purchase more. The expression she seeked on the little girl's face was far, far more valuable. But what would she do? Snap it in half? Put it up a tree? Thrust it into the ground, tail first, so as to break as many of its bristles as possible? There truly was room for creativity here, if only the child would hand her the broom.

How did you find us? Who knows? Not me!

* Calypso Ross

    (05/07/2019 at 20:54)
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