E L S E W H E R E A D U L T
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name: Sierra Jalson
Gender: Female
Age: 18 (1 Jan 1949)
Blood Status: Pureblood
Education: Hogwarts - Gryffindor - Class of 1967
Residence:Wherever Mum and Daddy are London, England
Occupation: Unemployed
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? No
Requested Magic Levels:
- Charms: 10
- Divination: 10
- Transfiguration: 6
- Summoning: 6
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: Dienne Orellana, Benjamin Orellana Jr., Hollis Thornton, Wyatt McCormick
Biography: (300 words minimum.)Let's not pretend Sierra Jalson is a good person. Make no mistake: Sierra is a dangerous ball of reckless fire, completely absorbed with having a good time and burning down everything around her in pursuit of that. It doesn't matter who she takes down with her: be it whatever chew toy of the week she has her sights set on, or the disappointment of her family for being such an impulsive, firecracker of a flirty, chaotic woman.
Sierra was born as the eldest daughter of the extremely wealthy Jalson couple who have been internationally successful in any venture they've been involved in. Sierra grew up with a gold spoon in her mouth: the best tutors (people to torment), the best clothes (to wreck), the best homes and vacations (to prowl for prey), the best
everything. It was her fate to be spoiled so perfectly; her destiny to become the kind of girl who would make use of her looks to get anything she wanted.
She grew up travelling internationally with her family, never staying in any place for very long. Sierra became very good at finding something entertaining to do in any place they ended up in. She made friendships easily, and broke them without guilt, traveling onto the next place without a care in the world. By the time she got shipped off to Hogwarts, Sierra had already become a wild, vivid, showy, fearless girl. Perfect for Gryffindor and a terrible influence for anyone under her wing for seven long years.
She spent her years at Hogwarts single mindedly being hotheaded, rash, and aggressive. She'd lost her house as many points as gained. Her one claim to fame was that she played Quidditch and even that was a tough sell. She flunked her OWLs, failed her NEWTs, somehow managed not to get expelled with her clear disregard for life's expectations. All Sierra had to do was fall back on her family's money. Mum and daddy had her back: the irresponsible, eldest daughter was well loved but not enough to be declared the heir to the Jalson fortune. That much was clear. But that was all no matter to the vivacious Sierra Jalson: she, a fresh Hogwarts graduate, was supremely unconcerned about what she'd do for the rest of her life.
She knows she's not anything special (save for her beauty, because, obviously). She is well aware that she is an empty husk of a girl without talent, intelligence, or ambition. But, whatever, those probelms are for another girl. Sierra doesn't linger on anything remotely negative like guilt, shame, nerves, etc. Everything rolls off as she seeks out the next shiny toy to keep her entertained.
Roleplay: 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:"Oh
honey," a musical voice sounded. "What are you
doing, calling for
help?"
A set of black stilettos stepped up to the fallen over woman. A glance up those black heels--never to be caught in something as pathetic as a loose stone in a cobble path--would bring into focus long legs in tights. Further up would reveal a green dress much shorter than propriety would recommend, up into a black coat, tiny gold jewels, and a vivid head of bright golden red hair that could be spotted in a huge crowd. Twinkling, amused deep green eyes stared down at Amelia Nixon with no small amount of pitiless mirth.
She had been wandering around, as she always did. She had so much time on her hands to do whatever she wanted. Perhaps she'd actually apply for a job today. Perhaps she'd actually go work for the part-time job she
had found. Or perhaps she'd just bail on both (what was being fired from another place?) to proposition the cute barista who made her latte just right every day. She'd been eyeing his cropped curls and shy smile with interest ever since she'd found the new coffee shop. Lord knew she didn't keep coming back for the coffee!
It was just too bad that someone had fallen so close to her, while she was pondering all the difficult life choices she had to make. If it had been an attractive man, well, that'd be a different story. But it was someone who just seemed to ooze disappointment with life. A pity.
Sierra Jalson held out a manicured hand to the woman. The ring on her pinky was likely more expensive than, well, everything the reporter owned. "You alright there, sweetheart? Need me to call a prince to come save you and your poor little shoe?" Sierra mocked lightly, eyeing the fellow redhead with barely concealed scorned.
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