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Topics - Bathsheba A Hurst
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1
« on: 31/12/2012 at 23:19 »
Your character must be currently enrolled at Beauxbatons, Hogwarts, or Salem to apply. Otherwise, please use the current student application for the school of your choice.
Please scroll to the bottom of this post and copy the code for your application.   Transfer Application
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Bathsheba Hurst
Birthday: 07 February
Hometown: London, UK
Bloodline:
Pureblood
Current Levels: C3D2T2S3
Current Year: Beginning 3rd
Year Requested: 3rd
Reason for Transfer:
Refinement. It's an ideal of her mother's, and expectation for young ladies. Bookish and increasingly withdrawn, her mother feels Bathsheba is growing too hard within the halls of Hogwarts, too far from the well-mannered young lady she should be and the ideals of her family. Her mother has won out, and Babs her way to Beauxbatons.
Biography:
My name is Babs.
It doesn't suit me, but when one's very stupid parents have cursed one with a given name as ugly and unwieldy as Bathsheba, one might count even something that doesn't suit as a blessing.
Babs is a silly name.
It is bright pink and giggling, full of feathers and air-headed ideas. Babs, I think, wears too much pink lipstick for someone her age and not enough clothes. Babs likes to sunbathe in yellow polka dots.
I'm not a Babs. It's only my name.
I am far more clever than you are. It doesn't matter at all if you're older than I am, or that there are a lot of things that you've learned which I haven't yet. When you were my age you were not so clever as I am, and when I'm the age you are now I will know many more things than you do today.
My father says I soak things up like a sponge, but this is a stupid thing to say, because sponges never think, and cannot think, and I think all the time.
I think of how I can stuff paper into the ends of heeled shoes so that I can wear them even when they are still too big. I think that the way the sky flushes red when the sun sinks away is only just the filth of coal bits in the air, and so isn't very pretty at all. And I think of the hungry way my sister's beau looked before he kissed her by the pond before the sun set, and how easy it would be to make him do the same to me.
Even if my sister is already sixteen and wears things that hug her figure much too tightly. Even if my hair is only brown, and I am small, even for my age, and mother still insists on dressing me to match her.
My sister is a Babs by every right.
She is stupid and bubbly and titters too much. But her name is Bethany, and she's never done anything at all to earn it.
It was very easy, to steal her kiss from him.
Just a peck on my lips, painted rose, when I knew that father could see. The boy had scruff above his mouth that prickled, and his lips were much too thin. He was punished, and Bethany cried until her eyes were ugly and red, and I knew that they both deserved it.
Knowledge is power.
I read it in a book, and it's true. I can have anything I fancy if I know how.
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.
[Beauxbatons] Ecole Request:
Humanities
2
« on: 26/08/2012 at 02:05 »
Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Bathsheba Adin Hurst
Birthday: 07 February
Hometown: London, UK
Bloodline:
Pureblood
Magical Strength (pick one):
Conjuring & Summoning
Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination
Year (pick two):
2, 1
Biography:
My name is Babs.
It doesn't suit me, but when one's very stupid parents have cursed one with a given name as ugly and unwieldy as Bathsheba, one might count even something that doesn't suit as a blessing.
Babs is a silly name.
It is bright pink and giggling, full of feathers and air-headed ideas. Babs, I think, wears too much pink lipstick for someone her age and not enough clothes. Babs likes to sunbathe in yellow polka dots.
I'm not a Babs. It's only my name.
I am far more clever than you are. It doesn't matter at all if you're older than I am, or that there are a lot of things that you've learned which I haven't yet. When you were my age you were not so clever as I am, and when I'm the age you are now I will know many more things than you do today.
My father says I soak things up like a sponge, but this is a stupid thing to say, because sponges never think, and cannot think, and I think all the time.
I think of how I can stuff paper into the ends of heeled shoes so that I can wear them even when they are still too big. I think that the way the sky flushes red when the sun sinks away is only just the filth of coal bits in the air, and so isn't very pretty at all. And I think of the hungry way my sister's beau looked before he kissed her by the pond before the sun set, and how easy it would be to make him do the same to me.
Even if my sister is already sixteen and wears things that hug her figure much too tightly. Even if my hair is only brown, and I am small, even for my age, and mother still insists on dressing me to match her.
My sister is a Babs by every right.
She is stupid and bubbly and titters too much. But her name is Bethany, and she's never done anything at all to earn it.
It was very easy, to steal her kiss from him.
Just a peck on my lips, painted rose, when I knew that father could see. The boy had scruff above his mouth that prickled, and his lips were much too thin. He was punished, and Bethany cried until her eyes were ugly and red, and I knew that they both deserved it.
Knowledge is power.
I read it in a book, and it's true. I can have anything I fancy if I know how.
House Request: Sort me!Roleplay Response:
A soft flip, and Babs' hair slid down over her shoulder, the thin tendrils drifting feather like as she hurried down the hall.
She wanted to be a full reporter. Now. It did not matter that the paper's staff was full, or that she was still only twelve, and had never found writing to be a terribly enjoyable pastime. Her age had never stopped her from doing anything she liked, and constructing paragraphs was really quite an easy excercise when she'd set herself to it.
There were words, and there were thoughts, and one only needed to put them in order in a way that led other people to think what she wanted them to think, and that was something that came quite naturally.
It had taken nearly thirty minutes in the library between scribbling down the rapid lines and reading about amphibian habits and French cuisine. But from what she'd heard, Astrid was already on thin ice at the paper and the sad little twit only needed a nudge in a sensitive place to clear the way, so the time was worth it. Speaking of...
She heard the other girl's obnoxious trill sound behind her and quickened her pace into a careless little skip, light brown locks still bouncing. But the wretch's legs were longer, and soon she was all but breathing down the back of her neck. Babs stopped short and spun around, her lips turned up in an insouciant smirk.
"I don't think that sounds very interesting," she offered sweetly. "I think you're sad, and very stupid and your articles are ruining the paper." She tilted her head, as though daring the older girl to believe she'd actually said what she very clearly had.
→ ABOUT YOU.
Previous Characters (if applicable): E. Birch
How did you find us?: You're all surgically sewn to me.
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