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Posts - Violeta Rojas Aguirre

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Messages - Violeta Rojas Aguirre

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E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Violeta Isidora Rojas Aguirre
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Blood Status: Halfblood

Education:
Castelobruxo

Residence:
Residential Wizarding London

Occupation:
Auror Trainee

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:
Adult characters have different starting points based on age-group. Less levels can be used according to where your character falls, however the number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the typical start for your age-group, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Exceptional Levels special request form here.

  • 18-24: 32 points
  • 25-31: 40 points
  • 32-39: 48 points
  • 40+: 56 points
Fill out the below to tell us how you'd like your points distributed.
  • Charms: 11
  • Divination: 5.
  • Transfiguration: 8.
  • Summoning: 8.
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:
Katherine Dankworth, William Dankworth.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
She remembered it as clear as day. The morning had been beautiful—she had watched the sun rise from the sandy beach, surrounded by friends, a box of white wine keeping them warm even as the camanchaca rolled in from the sea, cooling their limbs.

Walking along the shore was one of the few things she still had for herself—a brief escape, hiding from faceless soldiers who enforced the curfew with guns and bloodthirst. It reminded her that life was still worth living, that some things were still worth fighting for.

Hand in hand, they walked toward the city. The silence was eerie. A few people rushed to work, eyes lowered, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze. Children pressed their noses against the windows, forbidden from playing outside as they once had.

"Violeta, mira esto," one of her friends grabbed the sleeve of her brown leather jacket, forcing her to look at the newspapers.

Falleció el poeta Pablo Neruda.

She had to wonder if he had died or if they had killed him. The painful memory of Víctor Jara's detaintment still fresh on her mind.

Her thoughts went straight to her sister and she felt sick.

That was the day she realized she had to fight it.



Her entire body hurt. Everywhere she looked, she saw a bruise. She didn't even remember how she had managed to find Manuel's house.

Violeta was not really sure of why they had let her go.

She had made the mistake of leaving without her wand.

It was her fault.



"Te tenís que ir, Violeta," Manuel had said, stern as he always was. Violeta was laying down, her hand covering her face as the sunlight felt like a hundred knives on her eyes. "A Francia. Y después a Inglaterra. No podís quedarte aquí, te van a matar. Busca a tu hermana."

"Pero yo—" she tried to get up, to make her point. But she quickly fell down again in the bed. "

"La Xime te necesita más que nosotros, vamos a estar bien."

She nodded. He was right. Wherever she was, Ximena needed her. And she needed her alive.

Her love for her sister was the only thing that stopped her from staying and giving up her life.


ooc:
Falleció el poeta Pablo Neruda = Poet Pablo Neruda dead.
"Te tenís que ir, Violeta. A Francia. Y después a Inglaterra. No podís quedarte aquí, te van a matar. Busca a tu hermana." = You have to go, Violeta. To France. Then England. You can't stay here, they're going to kill you. Find your sister.
"La Xime te necesita más que nosotros, vamos a estar bien." = Xime needs you more than we do. We'll be alright.



Roleplay: 
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

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.

Option Two -
The snow had been falling steadily all morning and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Joshua Campbell scrunched his face up in a frown as he lifted his gaze to look to the sky. Snow. It really was quite a bother.

And it certainly didn't make it better that Diagon Alley seemed to be getting more and more crowded. Joshua sighed and pointed his wand at the large box that was currently placed on the doorstep of his shop. He had to get going. He had an order to deliver.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The elderly man muttered and watched the box hover in the air for a moment. Honestly, did St. Mungo's really need that much tinsel? And with glitter of all things? He sighed again. If it hadn't been for the rather convincing stamp on the order, he would have been likely to believe it had been a prank by one of those orphaned rascals living up there.

Oh well, there was no point in waiting. Joshua deftly stirred the box down the doorstep and out onto the street, carefully levitating it above the heads of the crowd.

"Coming through! Coming through!" His voice sounded over the chatter of the crowd. "Keep out! Move ahead! Go on!" This was going way too slow. People were in the way and walking like they had all day! He huffed. Luckily the road was down hill.

"Coming through! Coming th--- arrrgh!" Joshua let out a loud shout as his feet suddenly slipped in the snow and sent him, the box, and several long strands of tinsel tumbling into the person who had been walking in front of him.

"For Merlin's sake!" Joshua muttered angrily as he hurried to his feet again, red and gold tinsel now decorating his black coat. "I am so sorry! This blasted snow!" He looked apologetic at the person he had crashed into.

Roleplay Response:
Violeta was not the kind of girl who easily got in a bad mood. Annoying things had a way of just sliding past her, as if they were made of air.

England’s weather, though, was doing a fantastic job of fighting its way onto the short list of things that actually managed to make her angry.

It wasn’t like Chile was a Caribbean paradise. But hell, at least they knew what a sunny day looked like.

She didn’t even notice Joshua coming toward her until it was too late—too busy complaining in her mind about how depressing London could be for a girl like her.

"Coming through! Coming th—arrrgh!"

The man crashed into her, and they both ended up covered in glitter tinsel.

Talk about an entrance.

Instead of getting mad, Violeta started to laugh. Softly at first, then uncontrollably.

"Shit, you should’ve been more careful!" she said cheerily, already helping to gather the tinsel and stuff it back into the boxes. "I’m Violeta, by the way. Not Violet. Not Violette. Vio-le-ta."


OTHER
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