Valencia B. Alvear
|Valencia Bienvenida Alvear|
|Full name||Valencia Bienvenida Azucena Alvear|
|Born||September 30th, 1934|
|Residence||Alvear Manor, London, England|
|Parents||Juan Alvear, Margaret Alvear (real mother is Emma Albear, currently deceased)|
|Siblings||(half siblings) Andrés Alvear, Arcelia Alvear, Sebastían Alvear, Azrael Albear, Michael Albear, Ambriel Albear, Cassiel Albear, Ra'asiel Albear|
|Other Family Members||Alvear Family|
|Wand||Hawthorn, Dragon Heartstring, Sturdy, 11 ¼”|
THE BEGINNING (A.K.A. THE TIMES WHERE VALENCIA WAS BORN AND BROUGHT HELL WITH HER)
In the beginning, it started with her. Born on the day of September’s demise (or to put it simply, September 30th), Valencia Bienvenida was brought into the home of Juan and Margaret Alvear as her elder siblings Andrés, Arcelia, and Sebastián stood years before her arrival. She was a celebrated birth, as were all the children in her generation, but as the youngest child, the girl was nothing new.
(But that was simply what she was told to believe.)
With three other offspring to look up to, one would expect her to follow in their footsteps. “Be as erudite as Andrés, be as independant as Arcelia, be as righteous as Sebastián.” But why be so moral, so virtuous, when one could have the blood of Bellona, the legacy of Mars, in their veins?
Consequences, consequences: Valencia’s presence arose to become synonymous with “trouble” not long after turning the age of four. Trouble was the direct path to attention, was it not? Her excuse was that there was no other decent choice but to follow its paved road.
THE MIDDLE (A.K.A. THE TIMES WHERE VALENCIA SHOWED SHE ACTUALLY HAD A HUMAN SOUL)
In the middle, it started with her cousins; five of them, to be exact. They, Azrael, Michael, Ambriel, Cassiel, and Ra’asiel were prominent figures in Valencia’s childhood, more so than her own biological siblings. Perhaps it was her parents’ fault for being so entitled to their work that she became distant towards them and closer to the elder Albear brothers, but it has been far too long for such a “mistake” to be fixed.
She found herself under Azrael’s care more often than not, which little Valencia wasn’t entirely averse to. He was an odd choice of a babysitter, the first son of Albear, the heir to its riches, with his dutiful mentality and death-ridden mind. And yet, she had grown to become fond of him, for what they shared in blood was meaningless compared to the numerous tea parties and dress-up days. To young Valencia, he was her last breath.
(Three years ago, a girlish giggle and the humorless reply, “Valencia... that is not the proper application of stickers.” Sometimes, miraculously, she could find this man to be the amusing sort, and she had been taught to keep him in her graces.)
But there was dear Michael as well, bless his raging soul. The second son of Albear, a soldier who had once served her country, scarred and all. He was a broken man with pride, as she had once observed while watching him stand near his older brother, with eyes that had seen many things. But he had her, and his snakes, and Valencia believed him to be at peace when his mind wasn’t littered with fury. To naive Valencia, he was her last heartbeat.
(Three years ago, the irritable question, “Who is it?” and the well-meaning prompt, “Find out yourself.” He had gifted her a snake that day, and she had learned to keep him in her heart.)
Ambriel and Cassiel: the fraternal twins, mere middle children. She did not know them as well as the elder two, if at all, but they were, to her, interesting personalities to remember. Ambriel was not as fun-loving as his younger brother, the cautious and calculating son with a charming mask. Cassiel, on the other hand… Insane, impulsive, and yet still holding the same disguise as the former—Valencia never knew this would apply both figuratively and literally. Oddly enough, she could only recall them with food in mind. The only thing she could compare them to was holy communion.
(Ice cream shops and tomato sandwiches were apparently equal to bread and wine. Perhaps they could spend more time together another day.)
Ra’asiel Albear was the last. He was the final son, the end to continue his father’s legacy. He was quiet, reserved, holding a piece of Emma Albear in him. And yet… and yet…
(A studious boy with an inventive mind. She did not know that, until the winter of 1945, such intelligent, privileged people could be tainted so easily with the views of sentient dirt.)
THE END (A.K.A. THE TIMES WHEN A PLENTIFUL LIFE SEEMED TO FALL APART)
In the end, it started with numerous doomsdays Valencia wished to forget.
Azrael was first, the one she adored. Leaving her in the dust, perhaps towards the afterlife. There was simply no other reason that he would abandon her so easily… yes?
But death gods did not die.
Michael was second, the one she admired. She did not know where he went—she was never told anything anymore these days. And yet, there were times where Valencia could see glimpses of the former soldier, with forlorn features and world-weary eyes.
But war gods did not wither.
Ambriel and Cassiel were third and fourth respectively. A lawyer and an Auror, as she was told before duties got a hold on them and the invasion made them busier than before. On her last visit, Valencia had not seen them.
But neither twin would ever falter.
Ra’asiel was the fifth. His end was too soon, too quick, too unwanted. She had wanted to know him more.
But creatures such as him could prosper without chains.
So she was left with her immediate family again. It should not have been an antagonizing thing as it became, but they, father, mother, sister, brothers, were estranged.
Valencia kept herself alone.
An attention seeker to put it simply—Valencia relies on worded poison to get all she deserves. Currently clinging desperately onto the last strings of immaturity that Alvear tradition has spared her with and expresses it true. Extremely entitled and spoiled as the result of being the youngest of four (or perhaps being the consequence of a regrettable drunken night).
WIP WIP WIP
FC: Claudia Seguí