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Messages - Nashira Nettlebed

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Archived Applications / Nashira Nettlebed
« on: 05/08/2018 at 04:55 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Nashira Philyra Nettlebed

Birthday: 30th August 1940

Hometown: Born in London, lives in Bristol

Bloodline:
Muggleborn / Halfblood / Pureblood / Unknown

Magical Strength (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): 4th, 3rd

Biography:
June 22nd, 1954
Foxe Farm


Nashira Nettlebed settled into her mother's office much as she had last time, with a box set of gobstones placed carefully in between them, aligned to be perfectly parallel to the side of the desk, about an inch away from the edge. She knew details like these didn't matter much to her mother, but when the conversation they were about to have was so important, Nashira would not leave anything to chance. When the set -- her best one -- was adjusted to her satisfaction, she retrieved the scroll of parchment nestled in her lap. Though her mother was not meant to read it herself, the words inscribed upon the sheet had been carefully scrawled in the caligraphy Nash had been so meticulously practicing over the past year. This one was her sixth draft.

Nashira cleared her throat, pale blue eyes glancing quickly up to study her mother's expression (impassable in its eternal patience, as usual) before they lowered back to the parchment.

"Dear mother," She began, carefully enunciating every word in an accent far more prim than the one she used on a daily basis. "For the past two years, you have been a wonderful teacher to me, and I am ever so grateful that, when I asked, you so readily accepted my request to be homeschooled. However, after two years of spending every day on the farm, of having no friends my own age when the only people around here are my little cousins, Rana, and the adults--" It was a struggle to keep away the grimace that would have so naturally etched itself upon her features. "--I have decided that it would be best to return to Hogwarts. I have friends there, now, and most of them don't think gobstones is gross or a bore or uncool."

Blue eyes peaked again over the edge of the parchment. Nashira wasn't often nervous, but the stakes tonight were too high for her emotions to sway any other way. Her mother remained impassable, but if Nash had to guess, she would have to say there was a glint of laughter in the woman's eyes… not something the thirteen year old particularly appreciated. Nevertheless, she persisted.

"Furthermore, as much as I appreciate your efforts, mother, Hogwarts employs the finest teachers in all the country, and I believe it would be to my greatest advantage to learn from the best of the best. Furthermore--" (She really should have caught that repetition. How tired had she been when she'd written that last draft, to think that was good enough?) "--the facilities, be they the library, the Hospital Wing, the Menagerie, the Gobstones clubhouse, the greenhouses, or, as Vega can no doubt corroborate, the potions storeroom, offer tools and supplies that simply cannot be matched by anything found at Foxe Farm.

"I am sure, mother, that you will understand my plight. However--" Another quick glance broke her rhythm. "--if you are unconvinced, I have brought along a set of gobstones--" Her free hand, without looking, was placed gently on the boxset, pushing it slowly toward the center of her mother's desk. "--in the event you would like to settle the matter over--"

This time it was Magda who interrupted her with a raised hand that at once put a stop to her daughter's monologue. "Nashira, plase," She sighed. "You don't need to make such a big deal out of this. If you want to go back to Hogwarts, that's fine. All you had to do was ask."

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Slytherin

Personality:
Though one might take a quick glance at Nashira and see someone who seeks knowledge like a Ravenclaw, who works hard at her goals like a Hufflepuff, or who has the bald-faced boldness of a Gryffindor, when they make these links, they are ignoring the fact that each and every one of those qualities is the product of unwavering ambition. Nashira Nettlebed has a very clear idea of what she wants out of life, and at thirteen, she's already considering the effect every one of her actions will have thirty years down the line. Every book she reads, every act of kindness she shows, and every initiative she takes, are all meant to be the cause of some very specifically calculated effect.

Appearance:
There are good days when Nashira's blue eyes peer into the mirror and see that, for once, her hair is exhibiting even the slightest wavy curl. Most days, though, it's lying flat on her head, straight from blonde root to blonder tip. Thin and lacking in volume, it requires constant attention to keep it from looking drab and dirty by the end of the day. Her face is dominated by plump lips, forever pouting in a perpetual air of boredom, that seem almost too large to fit the rest of her face, specially the short nose lost in-between a pair of high cheekbones and shadowed by a stern brow. Though she's no more than average in height, Nash's skinny limbs, pockmarked with constellations of beauty marks, make her look a lot taller than she actually is. She usually dresses in black, preferring the versatile way the shade can look both professional and casual all at once.


→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not Evangeline's or Hugh's.

Option 2:

That rat of his was in for it now.

The gray little rascal had disappeared from his clutches at breakfast. Again.

Before Hugh even knew what was happening, Merlin had shot across the floor, somehow managing to avoid all the feet walking across the hall and had escaped through the open doors.

Which meant that Hugh was now stomping through rows of flowers and other various flora, searching for the small creature. It was like the rat knew Hugh was allergic to most flowers. Merlin always chose to run to the gardens whenever he got away from Hugh. It was as if the rat did not want to have him for an owner.

Hugh had named his pet Merlin because he had hoped the powerful name would give the rat more incentive to be more than a rat. Not that he expected Merlin to change into a wizard or anything, but rats were just so...useless, for the most part. With a name like Merlin, Hugh thought it might give the rat purpose.

The only purpose Merlin seemed to have was getting away from Hugh as often as possible.

As the fifth year trudged into the second row of flowers, not taking much care to avoid trampling the first row, he felt the first sneeze building up pressure in his nose and behind his eyes.

"You blasted rat! Where are you?"

He pulled apart a section of bright red flowers; he didn't know what they were called because he despised flowers, and ducked his head low to peer into the depths of the flowerbed. It was moving closer in proximity to the flowers that finally did it. Hugh took in three great breaths and then let out an almighty sneeze. It was strong enough to disturb some of the dirt on the ground before him.

Groaning, he stood up again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It was as he was turning his head, his nose running up and down his arm, that movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Normally one who preferred to put his best face forward, Hugh was a bit embarrassed to be caught wiping his runny nose on his robes.

Nevertheless, Hugh put on his best haughty voice. albeit a bit thickly with his plugged nose and said, "Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."




Nashira Nettlebed had made a point not to look at the boy. In her experience, people who mumbled and grumbled at the grass were better off avoided. Nonetheless, her jaunt through the gardens brought her in his vicinity, though hopefully not close enough that she caught whatever bug he was so eagerly spreading.

Though she didn't look his way, her lips curled into a scowl at the sound of his sneeze. From the corner of her eyes, she could tell that he hadn't made the slightest effort to cover his mouth.

How--

"Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."

--rude.

Her footsteps came to an abrupt stop. Eyes narrowed to slits, Nash turned her daggering gaze upon him, her hair flicking over her shoulder as she did. "Excuse me?" Came her indignant response. Her eyebrows were knitting close together as her consternation rose.

"I was not staring -- you're not worth it even on a good day -- but if we really need to discuss what's not polite, maybe we should start by sneeze etiquette. Cover your damn mouth." If she'd had a handkerchief handy, she would have chosen that moment to throw it at him. Given that she had no such prop, she settled instead for crossing her arms.

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Marina Lamont, Wit Northcutt, Leona Mathenjwa, Joshua Mulligan

How did you find us?: From the ezboard days

2
Elsewhere Accepted / Nashira Nettlebed
« on: 05/11/2017 at 06:51 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Nashira Nettlebed

Gender: Female

Age: 11 (born August 30th 1940)

Bloodline:
Pureblood/Halfblood/Muggleborn/Squib

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Nope

Residence:
Foxe Farm

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Nope

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:
Marina Lamont, Leona Mathenjwa, Wit Northcutt

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
December 23rd, 1951
Foxe Farm


“I want to make a deal.” Said Nashira Nettlebed to her mother with utmost confidence as she set down her game of gobstones, ready to prepare it for play. “If I win-”

But before she could cut to the chase, Magda cut her off. “Oh, darling, I really don’t want to play that tonight.”

Lies. Mum didn’t want to play gobstones ever. Nonetheless, Nashira narrowed her eyes and pouted her lips, clearly affronted. “Mum, this is important!” And it most certainly was; after only half a year at that dreadful school, the eleven year old had had her full of that damned place they called Hogwarts. She’d been nagged by portraits, kidnapped by staircases, and she was pretty sure a poltergeist had pulled her hair once. Not to mention, she seemed even more invisible there than she ever had at Foxe Farm and that was unacceptable.

When she’d left the damn place for the Christmas holidays, she’d brought a trunk full of everything she’d brought with her to the school at the start of the year and one clear goal in mind: to never, ever return. This game of gobstones was to be her ticket to freedom.

“Nashira-”

But now it was her turn to interrupt. “No, mum! It’s my turn to talk.”

Mother and daughter stared each other down for a moment before Magda ultimately sighed and conceded. “Alright, go ahead.”

“If I win, I don’t have to go back to that godricforsaken school.”

“And if you lose?” Asked Magda, demonstrating her skepticism with the quirk of an eyebrow.

“I haven’t thought of that yet.” Admitted Nashira, shifting uneasily, her confident facade beginning to show its cracks.

Still, her mother responded with a fond and understanding smile. “Why don’t you want to go back?”

The whole place stinks!” Nashira exclaimed at once. “They make us wear those ugly uniforms, everyone is so damn loud all the time, someone said gobstones wasn’t cool,” (Outrageous!) “Half the teachers are sods and the other half are boring old bullies.” Done with her tirade, Nashira took a deep, calming breath. “I just want to work with someone who gets me.”

“In that case,” Madga began after giving the matter some consideration. “I have a counter-proposal.”

Though dubious, Nashira nodded an indication to go ahead.

“How about we don’t play gobstones and you finish the school year at Hogwarts.” She lifted a hand to intercept her daughter’s imminent complaints. “Put those textbooks we bought to good use and in return, I’ll find you a suitable tutor.”

“Yes!” With a wide, toothy grin overtaking her features, Nashira could barely contain her joy. Again, for emphasis, she added another “yes!” and as an afterthought a “thanks mum!” before something else occurred to her. “I’d still like to play gobstones, though.”

Magda shook her head slowly. “Nashira, darling, you have all your sisters and cousins at your disposal who would all love nothing more than to play with those smelly marbles of yours. Quit while you’re ahead and go pester one of them instead.”

Heaving the smallest of sighs yet not daring to push the matter any further, Nashira shrugged. “Fine.” She promptly picked up her box of gobstones, relieved she hadn’t yet set it up, and proudly marched herself out of the room, off to search for the cousin most likely to indulge her with a game.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
Quidditch wasn’t exactly Nashira’s cup of tea. An overwhelming fear of heights kept her safely grounded at all times. She couldn’t help but question the sanity of those who so recklessly launched themselves way up high into the sky. Did they know no self-preservation? Were they so keen to fall to their untimely deaths that they threw cursed iron balls into the mix? The whole thing made no sense at all.

She tried her best not to pay attention to the boys zooming above her head, playing some (barely) safer variant of the game. If she looked up, she knew, she’d get vertigo simply from imagining the view from their vantage point. Even the sound of them rushing past made her a slight bit dizzy. Nash considered making a detour for just a moment, but decided against it. This was the fastest route to Honeydukes and she absolutely refused to opt for a less efficient route.

"You! Do you want to play?"

Then again, a route was only efficient so long as it had no obstacles. This sudden interruption to what had been a very brisk walk definitely counted as an obstacle. Nashira stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the child letting her hair flip around to the opposite shoulder as she moved. She meant to be intimidating, to tell the little girl to get lost, but she stopped short and snickered when she saw the little broom she was carrying.

“Play? On that thing?” Incredulous as ever, Nashira gaped at the younger girl. Even if she did have time to waste playing with a toddler (Okay - maybe that was an exaggeration. But barely. Sort of barely. Whatever.) there wasn’t much she could do when she herself carried nothing more than a purse of sickles. “
How?

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