Morgan Ricardus

[Morgan Ricardus]

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Morgan Ricardus
Gender: Femme Fatale
Age: 42 (b. 24 May 1897)

Education: 
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - graduate of 1915 (Slytherin)

Residence:
Ricardus Hall, Freethorpe, Norfolk, UK

Occupation:
MAMA RICARDUS IN THE HOUSE
Wife of Loxias Ricardus Jr. and mother of eight seven sons.

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?
Ricardus Hall/Family

Requested Magic Levels: (see here on how to do this)
If you want levels above the usual 32 total, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

• Charms: 12
• Divination: 6
• Transfiguration: 7
• Summoning: 7

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Yes, the Ricardus family.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
(Pssst! It’s me! Lucy and Eleanor <3)

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

c. 1916

The only distinguishable noise in the room was the sound of silverware tapping delicately against the fine china spread out amongst the mahogany dining table. The room was large and spacious, unnecessarily so, like most dining halls in the homes of any self-respecting family.

The ceiling was high, its chandeliers bright, and it swallowed all noises, making everything sound small and insignificant. The table itself was long, nearly twenty feet, and on one end sat a man, while his wife occupied the seat on the other end of the table. Somewhere in the middle sat Morgan. Her head was bowed staring unseeingly at the porcelain plate in front of her. Her food was nearly untouched and sat there split in four different ways.

Her hands clenched every so often around the fork and her other hand rested idly underneath the table, her nails scratching the glossy wood where no one could see. If she were lucky her nails would press down hard enough to make a noise. If she were lucky it’d be loud enough to fill the deafening silence.

Anything but the silence was welcome.

Always.

Despite the logistics of it, the silence hurt her ears more than any noise could. It was cold; it filled her head and made it throb. She should’ve been used to it by now, she was used to it, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to deal with than before. Every night it grew colder, made her feel more desolate, while the other humans that occupied the room alongside her were oblivious to her predicament.

They happened to revel in it. In playing those silly mind games and treating each other like animals. Because that’s what they were: animals. Animals in fancy suits and long skirts.

Since when had she started referring to her parents as animals?

The female said something. It was quiet, possibly a reminder, but Morgan was too lost in her thoughts to pick it up. Not that she wanted to, as it was probably something insignificant. The woman couldn’t even be heard clearly. The room swallowed her voice completely and she tried to repeat what she said. Morgan scoffed. You needed to know how to speak through the thick silence to be heard clearly, and obviously the woman was incapable of even that.

”Morgan,” It was a warning and a command rolled in one. Had she scoffed too loudly?

Her head rose slowly, glazed over eyes connecting with dark, bottomless pits, but she didn’t say anything.

“The engagement has been finalized.”

The fury built up slow.

It started at the base of her throat—cold and uncontrollable—and made its way down over her heart, through her lungs, and settled in her stomach painfully. It was like a thick sheen of frost had covered her insides, constricting her lungs, and she let out a sharp breath, her hand flying up to loosely cradle her throat. The fork that was in her hand clattered onto her plate, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to run the utensil through something plaint and warm. Preferably something belonging to the wretched devil sitting a few feet away from her.

Her eyes, dark and resentful, flew to the woman and immediately she flinched back. Morgan wanted to bare her teeth like the animal she’d represented for years and hiss, but that’d put her on the same level as the two imbeciles. 

The woman narrowed her eyes as if she’d heard the words right out of Morgan’s mind and turned away to face her mate, opening her mouth indignantly, then thought twice and shut it.

Wise. Any words out of her and Morgan would’ve coiled around her tighter than possible.

She wanted to hurt something. And that was putting it mildly. The thirst for blood was rising faster than she could handle and, unbeknownst to her, her hand had tightened around the delicate arch of her throat, nails scoring slightly.

All her life she’d been a pawn in her father’s game for power and used to fulfill her mother’s dreams of a perfect family, so, in truth, she should’ve seen this coming. It was just like them to use her for personal gain, never mind not have the civility to ask her about such a personal decision. And contrary to popular belief, Morgan wanted to experience true love. Or at least marry someone of her choice—not get auctioned off like bloody cattle to the highest bidder.

However, Pureblood do as they are told, and for now all she could do was wait.

Yes, she’d wait. She’d play the part of the perfect, compliant daughter and when it was time to strike, she’d go for their throats.

It took her a few more moments to collect her thoughts before she finally picked up the discarded fork and resumed eating, eyes glazing over to their usual state of arrogance.

“Very well.”



Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

It was impossible for Dianne to stay out of trouble. It wasn't that she was looking for trouble, it's just that trouble always managed to find her. Today she wished she could find something equally familiar but more comforting.

The five-year old girl hugged her puffskein closer to her and brushed her face in its soft fur for comfort. She had named him herself and he was always her special pet. No she was certain she had never gone down this side street before. Her anxiety increased every second as darkness fell as she walked down the road. A loud noise came to her left and she buried her face in her pet's fur completely. The scared girl bolted the opposite way slamming the both of them into the wall of the nearest building. Tottering back a few steps she found a door a few feet to her right and ran to open it. What light there was inside spilled out into the darkness and she spilled into the room.

Once in, she was caught between the impulse to curl her cloak up more tightly around her and loosen her grip on it. She wasn't alone anymore but she was now among strangers instead, which was nearly as terrifying. Her puffskein had recovered from the shock of the wall and now was purring contentedly as the girl hugged it, causing a mildly calming effect on the girl. Gathering her courage, she marched up to the nearest person, pulled on the nearest clothing hem and blurted out in a loud voice:

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home."

She paused to draw a breath in her nearly never-ending sentence, "He misses my and his mommy."

To explain the scared girl held up the custard-colored puffskein. Sambundeakin the puffskein, however simply purred as if nothing on earth was wrong in the world.

Roleplay Response:
It was closer to midnight than she’d imagined. The moon was already high in the sky and the darkness of the night seemed to crawl through the windows and cling to the shadows of the pub giving it a seductive feel.

She thought she could feel invisible hands trying to tempt her back into the plush seats, tugging on her skirt, heating the skin beneath her neckline, but the last time she checked her divination skills were nothing to gawk at and her reaction could be due to one too many stiff drinks.

Morgan ran a long hand over of her face to rub away any lasting effect, and slicked a few strands of hair behind her ear.  Unfortunately her little impromptu meeting had long since been over and she had no other reason to stay in the dimly lit pub. She could already feel the stares on her back, any longer and the patrons would start asking questions.

She left some money on the table for her tab and stood up, grabbing her purse and other essentials before making her way to the back where her coat was resting on a rack. Once she’d slipped the large fur coat over her shoulders the door to the entrance of the pub creaked open.

Morgan, oblivious to the entrance of the child, fixed the cuffs to her coat, slipped her bag over her shoulder and made to reach for the door, mouth open ready to excuse herself when a tugging on persons made her look down. And down… and down…until she spotted the tiny girl clutching what looked like a disgustingly colored dust-ball.

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home." Finally, she stopped, and Morgan quickly thanked Merlin her sons never rambled that much as children. She would’ve charmed their mouths shut and done away with the consequences. "He misses my and his mommy."

Morgan let out an exasperated sigh and abruptly turned away from the child when she held the creature closer to her rather expensive coat.

“Get that thing away from me,” she scolded, her patience wearing thin. She barely had any when it came to dealing with children, “and where exactly is this mother of yours? Home I presume?”


OTHER
How did you find us? Let me tell you ‘bout this secret hole. . .

[Galatea Argent]

Accepted!