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Author Topic: Muriel Hollybarrow | Elsewhere Adult  (Read 282 times)

* Muriel Hollybarrow

    (04/08/2020 at 18:14)
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E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Muriel Hollybarrow
Gender: Female
Age: 55
Blood Status: Muggleborn

Education:
1916-1921: Incomplete education at Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
1929-1930: Brightshadow Coven Wiccan Apprenticeship, Chicago, Ill.
1930-1945: Continued study and practice within Brightshadow Coven
1945-1951: High Priestess of Brightshadow Coven; mentor to eight wiccan initiates
1954-present: Continued self-study


Residence:
Hollybarrow Village, Ireland

Occupation:
Hedgewitch of Hollybarrow Village (local wise woman, herbalist and mender)

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?
Hogwarts, hopefully

Requested Magic Levels:
Special request form for unbalanced levels PM'd to administrators.
  • Charms: 5
  • Divination: 13
  • Transfiguration: 5
  • Summoning: 9
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Eviguin Lackless, Tippa Lackless, Linwood Hale

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Muriel has carried many names throughout the decades, and while all of them deserve recognition for the transitions they've provided along her life's journey, the mantle she proudly carries nowadays is that of Hollybarrow

She was born Muirgheal MacDermott in 1905, the only daughter of two non-magical parents residing on a small plot of land outside Dublin. At nine years old, perhaps a bit late compared to other wizards and witches, her magical abilities revealed themselves in a particularly sudden and fruitful garden - one that the MacDermott family hadn't planted for. As the next couple years passed, they were drawn into the country's political affairs. Unrest and revolution motivated the Irish against the United Kingdom and, though they were only indirectly related to some of the Easter Uprising leaders, and not at all involved in the violence, Domhnall MacDermott fell victim to execution in April, 1916. Muirgheal and her mother, Brigid, managed to escape to America.

Brigid dropped the surname prefix and Muirgheal spelled her name more recognizably as Muriel, so the two would fit in better among the Americans of Boston, Massachusettes. Muriel Dermott attended Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until she turned 15 years old while her mother lived with a wealthy American family in exchange for housekeeping and kitchen services. In 1920, her mother took ill and Muriel, always a dependable child, left school to provide her care. It was difficult living as Muriel worked in Brigid's stead while trying to keep her mother comfortable in a tight, unpleasant quarters. Two years hence, Brigid Dermott passed away, leaving Muriel on her own.

For the next phase of her life, Muriel moved to the Windy City and was swept away by the Roarin' Twenties. Here she forgot her worries for many years, engaged in the everlasting backroom party in prohibition era Chicago. The party lasted until 1929, when Muriel met the love of her life, Johnathan, who by some twist of fate was a member of a small neo-pagan coven. For a year and a day, Muriel learned from the coven's High Priestess a more earthly form of magic than the spells taught to hereditary witches at magical schools. The Irish witch was initiated into the Brightshadow Coven at the conclusion of her mentorship, and was particularly skilled in rituals involving purification, divination and conjuration.

On the same day of her initiation in 1930, her name changed again to Muriel Sinclair in a pagan hand-fasting. For the next twenty years, she and Johnathan practiced traditional magic and created two beautiful children. Johnathan lived long enough to see grandchildren born to each of them before his life was taken in a tragic car accident in 1951.

Struck by grief, Muriel left her coven - passing her High Priestess position of six years to her daughter - and returned to her homeland in search of solitude and internal peace. Despite the suspicion and wariness of the people there, she settled down in a village called Bhearú O'Cuileann, colloquially known as Hollybarrow, because her readings of fate told her to stay. Eventually the people there came to acknowledge her as an asset, appreciating the strange things that happened at her hand because they usually defied reason in the benefit of someone's farm, newborn or readings of the future. She took on an apprentice during this time, the youngest son of a local farmer, who early absorbed all the information he could about herbs, crystals, elementals, homeopathic medicine and other useful skills.

She lived in peace there until, motivated by a dream in 1960, Muriel began correspondence with witches and wizards in London and at Hogwarts, seeing her path was to take a turn once more.




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:
For the entire day it seemed as if trickster spirits worked against her, and if that were true it wouldn't be much of a surprise. The nights between Samhain and Yule grew longer while the days in their short duration were clouded and dreary. In the darkness of wintertime danced that which otherwise slept.

In theory, she knew there were good things about this time of year. This was the time when the veil was thinnest and spirits came easier to being called (she resisted the temptation to call out mischievous beings in the middle of the snowy street, unsure who would think she was scolding herself). Celebration would come too, soon, to rejoice in the solstice whereby the sun would reclaim the sky again. Within all things was balance, and this was only one side of the Wheel.

Understanding winter, however, was not the same as liking it.

Thus were the witch's thoughts as she padded from one shop to another, gloomy as the sky above. She headed the Aetherius, which was promised familiar to her way of life. The rest of Diagon Alley felt rather fairy tale; for all the woman was born into magic, the world where magic lived - hereditary magic, as opposed to natural witchcraft - was a stranger to her. Or was it simply that she was the trespasser?

A pang struck her heart as she wished, for the ten thousandth time since Johnathan died, that she could share her thoughts with her husband. That he would answer her call to the realm beyond.

A short, interrupted shout was her only warning as a sudden impact drove her into a small pile of snow. Bewildered she floundered into sitting, arms flailing for purchase, and her back ached with the effort.

Onlookers be forgotten, Muriel Hollybarrow was going to have words with her Yuletide imps. Surely they were behind this.

"Ah, no," she told the man, her gentle voice at odds with the irritation on her face. "It's likely not your fault." Regardless of who was at fault, the woman in her fifties would appreciate some help finding her feet. She stretched her hand up toward the man. "Give us a hand, would you?"


OTHER
How did you find us? Other
like a heartbeat drives you mad
in the stillness of remembering what you had

* Calypso Ross

    (21/08/2020 at 09:38)
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