CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name:
Moira ProtheroGender:
FemaleAge:
51Education:
Hogwarts 1-7, RavenclawResidence:
Prothero Castle off the coast of WalesOccupation:
HousewifeDo you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (example St Mungo's, the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
NoRequested Magic Levels:
- Charms: 8
- Transfiguration: 9
- Divination: 7
- Summoning: 8
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Nope.Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Florence Prothero, George LaFleur, PW FinchSpecial Phrase: Tibbles’ Beard of Power
Biography:
Sanford Prothero was the oldest son and by birth the heir to Harmon Prothero. His mother Catrin Prothero was all meanings of the word righteous in the pureblooded woman way. There was hardly a woman more virtuous or obsessed with her image. Her own children saw her with her public face. She was of course loving, but very much in a sterile way. Harmon was hardly much different. However he did not wear a mask because he didn’t need to. He was truly, genuinely, magnificent. If even his wife felt she must wear a mask to stand next to him then you could only imagine how difficult it was for his children.
Cyrus was the most like Harmon. It was discussed that Sanford be skipped and the second son be given everything. So shocking. Sanford never quite got over that. Catrin loved Cyrus so much that cracks in her mask would show. But it was wrong to have favorite children and she was sympathetic to her oldest as well. Luckily for Sanford, Cyrus son had albinism. Harmon Prothero did not tell his son he was forbidden to have more children but because Harmon forbid his albino grandson from having anything children it was… rather implied that Cyrus stop as well.
The seat at the head of the table was Sanford’s again. But now he knew that there were those who doubted his abilities. And his wife, Christin, had given bring to their second stillborn child. The grief and failure was too much for her. She drank a poison that took her life. Sabine was his second wife, my mother. Harmon Prothero described her as everything a Prothero woman should be. Perhaps that was part of the reason why Sanford, my father, married her.
She was kind, kinder than I could ever be. Perhaps I might have been if things had gone differently. But she was not a woman to be trifled with. She gave only to her family. The rest of the world only received her attention if they had something of equal or greater value to return. My mother would take a great risk but only if the payback was great. She had marvelous and sharp instincts.
And though she was so many great things Sanford only saw her as a means to an end. I was born first and I wasn’t good enough. My mother took a great risk becoming pregnant so soon after having me. After Brenar she was very weak. Hardly in any condition to go through the strain of carrying another child. And so she was no longer useful. Within the year he had another child with his third wife, the lovely Vivian.
My father once told me I should be grateful that my mother still had a home in the Prothero castle. I hate my father and he hates me. My mother never said if he hurt her, if she hated him, or if she even loved him. She only cared about her own, Brenar and I. There was little time or energy to care about much anything else for her.
Brenar was Sanford’s heir. Naturally a weak man, like my father, gave him more love than me. Brenar was softer, but still wary. He saw my mother and understood that a man should never treat his wife as our father did, but he never scolded our father like I did. I do on occasion regret placing my beloved brother between my father and I. Brenar only wanted to be respectable and responsible.
I loved my mother very much, but Vivian was not appalling. It was my mother who at last convinced me to look past what I disliked about Vivian and ‘get along’ with her. She was only fulfilling the duties that were placed on her in pureblood society. I can say now that I grew to like her. But in my youth the idea of loving a stepmother while my own withered away in another room sickened me. Vivian always did put flowers on my mother’s grave as well as Christin until she divorced Sanford.
It should not be a surprise that my mother is no longer alive. She passed alone, the way she preferred. To me it was her one selfish thought in regards to her children.
Brenar and I were fine. We had always been thick skinned. We had always known she wasn’t going to get better and we were thankful for what she gave us. I vowed to never marry on the day of her death. I refused to fulfill the duties my society laid out for me. My cousin Rom felt similar, but his stance was less about choice. He did not have the desires a regular healthy man did. We drew strength from each other. I would scorn the world and he would chuckle and shake his head.
After graduation I figured the best profession for me was to become a Librarian or a teacher. I had a thirst for knowledge and enormous amount of curiosity. Books were lovely, but experience in the field thrilled me. There was nothing too frightening, disgusting, or revolting. My path lead me towards becoming a healer and I made myself useful during the Muggle second war. If there’s anything Muggles are good at it, it’s making trouble. And in my youth I had a knack for it.
But things are never so easy. My brother mysterious died much too soon. Foul play was suspected. But even fouler was the evidence that my half brother, Mathias, had some involvement in it. It doesn’t matter how little or how less. Protheros don’t kill each other. And while Mathias deserves death, we won’t kill him or throw him out. He will live in this house with the constant reminder of what he is, a traitor and a murderer. To us there is nothing worse than spilling family blood. We are selective by nature. There have been Protheros who have lived and died without procreating because of they were too selective. It doesn’t help a family flourish, but it does make it strong.
As Harmon became less and less impressed with his grandchildren, Rom and I were no longer able to do as we pleased. Our options were to pick someone within a year or marry each other. Only Merlin knows what fate would befall us if we did neither. If you pushed Harmon he would show you his truly merciless side. There are worse things than death.
I couldn’t stand any of the pureblood ‘men.’ At my age my options were left to widowers and rejects. Rom could have done well for himself. His demeanor is likeable he has the correct amount of toes. Intimacy made him uncomfortable, but not in the way you would think. He felt absolutely nothing despite anyone’s efforts. And so he felt awkward for them and their attempts. Not even my vulgar sister in law Claudia could bring a blush to his face.
I’ve never had a good enough physical encounter with another to make me think I would be missing anything in a marriage without intimacy. I generally want to strangle any man who wants to get too close to me.
In other words, we were perfect. I didn’t want a large ceremony, neither did Rom. Out marriage was off to a great start. The biggest change was the location of our rooms in the castle. We got our own apartment, two rooms and a common area. I suppose they thought we’d use one room and leave the second for our child. Eventually Harmon gave in and added a third bedroom to our apartment.
Birth has never been an easy topic and so I rarely think or talk about it. I did assist with Claudia’s first child. Watching her go through the pain of childbirth in a completely different thing. I finally say she was woman and not some sort of strange nymph. It was also lovely to witness her go through pain. But that’s a different story.
The first time Eugene opened his eyes and looked into mine I realized what my mother must have felt. I always considered her second pregnancy a complete waste. I loved my brother, but his premature death made my mother’s meaningless to me. I never considered that her being able to see him for as short of a time that she did as triumph. Her son wasn’t for the man who fathered him. He was hers. And Eugene was mine.
I gave him everything he needed and some of what he wanted. He was not a demanding or unpleasant boy. He shared my desire to learn and to even get his hands a little dirty in the process. Eugene was fascinated by Taxidermy. I helped nurtured this interest. I spent the majority of my time trying to see what he needed to become the perfect gentleman and the most appropriate head of the family. Harmon did take interest in him. That was before the incident however. Our great family head became bound to a wheelchair, completely motionless. He managed to speak through Legilimency, but even that took too much effort. Sanford became the head of the family. The family was already heading for decline and Sanford sped it up. I endured my father, and concentrated on my son and a promising future for the family.
I overlooked the need for companionship from someone Eugene’s age. When Tristan’s pleasant little surprise came along I was not too repulsed by the halfblood, although I was brought up better than that. She was a breath of fresh air that brought this stuffy castle alive. She intrigued me but I only sat and watched her. The halfblood jokes during dinner bothered her, but she gradually got better at hiding her discomfort.
When we learned little Florence was faking her blood status we say an opportunity. Why not make her a pureblood. She was Eugene’s age and the two seemed to get along. His quiet nature with her warm exterior seemed appropriate to me. As long as she could be controlled and knew to whom she owed.ROLEPLAY “Really, if I wanted plain white curtains I’d make myself plain white curtains,” Claudia shook her head and took a sip from her wine glass. Moira was quite bored with this conversations and she made her sentiments known by constantly peering at the clock.
“Oh dear I’m sorry, I completely forgot why I invited you to dinner. I have the most wonderful news,” Claudia said.
“You’ve discovered you're ill and there’s no way you’ll get better?” Moira said hopefully. Claudia was on the brink of chuckling, a smile trace on her lips and in her eyes.
“Yes and the only possible cure is to cut out my tongue. No darling, I’ve married off Florence. Well, she’s been promised off,” Claudia tilted her glass and rose it up before taking another sip. Moira did not say a single word. Nor did she move an inch.
“Say something, you’re being awful company. The day would have come eventually. And I rather it be sooner than later…” Claudia’s voice lowered at the end. When Moira continued to say nothing Claudia finished her glass and caught the waiter’s attention.
“Another glass, please,” Claudia said.
“No. She’s done for tonight,” Moira said. Claudia looked at Moira carefully.
“Another glass
please. Thank you,” The waiter hesitated but then walked off to do as he was told. Moira finally leaned in towards Claudia.
“Florence is not your daughter. That is not a decision for you to make,” Moira whispered. Claudia eyes no longer twinkled.
“If it wasn’t for me she wouldn’t have anything,” Claudia responded. A second looked at Moira’s face sent the younger woman leaning away in her chair.
“She is not you d-“ A tug on Moira’s clothes made her turn her head quickly to see who was there.
"He misses my and his mommy."The poor thing had no idea what she had walked into.
“Oh look Claudia. Another helpless child for you to adopt! Here! Make this one pretty and sell her off as well!” Moira said as she stood up from the table.
