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Author Topic: Francis Ivy, an Adult  (Read 88 times)

* Francis Ivy

    (07/08/2019 at 15:17)
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E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Francis Eleanor Ivy
Gender: Female
Age: Twenty years old -- 15 august 1936
Blood Status: Pureblood

Hogwarts of 1953; Ravenclaw house



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?

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

  • Charms: 9
  • Divination: 7
  • Transfiguration: 8
  • Summoning: 8
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:
Zo & Co.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
The upbringing of Francis Ivy was that one of typical to the pureblood elitist community. As a child, she knew nothing of her family’s shady dealings, only that she had always gotten whatever it was that she wanted, no matter the cost. It never truly crossed her mind until she had started her first year at Hogwarts. It was only then that her family’s reputation had an impact on her everyday life.

The Ivys were part of the Black family, just a different branch. But the pools of red followed them just as frequently, staining each life they touched. And the two Ivy girls were no exception. Without a male heir to inherit the business, cousin Leo had been doing the majority of the work for their father. But it had been decided that when Francis turned twenty five, it would be her duty to indulge in their legacy.

In the meantime, the young girl would continue her career with the Russian ballet in the spring. She often thought of beginning an internship at St. Mungo’s, but she knew her father wouldn’t approve. It took a lot of negotiating to even be able to do something a few months out of the year. “Don’t you have enough money already, Franny?”

But if her father taught her anything, there was always more money to make.

And she liked spending it. Always clothed in the newest trends, whether it was European or American, she was always dressed accordingly.Her hair was always done, not out of place, and her fingers perfectly manicured and colored each day. Her mother always told her first impressions were everything, and Francis was determined to make a great one.

At times, the young woman could come across as ruthless and cold as her father, but other times, her heart was full of gold. It truly depending on her impression of the person, and what blood they were. She didn’t have a problem with those who weren’t pureblood, but her father did, and it seemed he always knew when she was around those less than her family.

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:

Why she had insisted on going to Diagon Alley right before the start of a new term was beyond her. The shops never had anything in her size, and there were little kids running around without any attention from their parents. They were mannerless and extremely rude, and honestly made her wrinkle her nose at the thought of having any of her own.

Why parents couldn't keep a handle on their children? Especially in crowded places. She assumed they wanted the hellians to be snatched and never be seen again.

The thought made her chuckle as the girl made her way through the crowds towards the center. She needed a break from the brats, and decided that sitting on the bench with the steaming drink in hand would be a good way to relax and gather her composure before someone important saw her frazzled state.

But a woman yelling just put her more on edge. And it seemed the closer she went to her destination, the louder it got, and she should've just turned around and left. Acted as if she didn't hear the ridiculous hollering. It was far busier in the central London; this was a piece of cake. Clearly the person yelling for help had no idea just how busy a street could be.

With a roll of her eyes, Franny spotted the woman on the ground with a broken. "For the love of Godric, get up, woman!"

How did you find us? imaginaaaation

* Calypso Ross

    (14/08/2019 at 19:01)
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You're just a little bit out of my limit
It's been two years now you haven't even seen the best of me
And in my mind now I've been over this a thousand times
But it's almost over; Let's start over