E L S E W H E R E A D U L T
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name:Viktoria Yuliana Borovksy
Виктория Юлиана Боровский
Gender:Female
Age:44
Blood Status:Pureblood
Education: Durmstrang, 1939-1945
Residence:Wizarding London
Occupation:Owner of Séance
(will be renewing shop subscription)
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?N/A
Requested Magic Levels:- Charms: 12
- Divination: 5
- Transfiguration: 8
- Summoning: 7
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:Vanya Borovsky
Biography: (300 words minimum.)В экстренном случае
(In Case of Emergency)
Меня зовут Виктория Юлиана Боровский и если вы читаете this..then я мертв.
(My name is Viktoria Yuliana Borovsky and if you are reading this..then I'm dead.)
It was nineteen-thirty-eight when we absconded from Russia at the request of Grandmama. I was a scared ten-year-old child who knew nothing of the world and everything of the Mother Land; I was naive to think we would ever go back to the hallowed halls of Borovsky Castle. What I wouldn't give to go back to a time that was simpler and kinder than the one now.
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Grandmama speaks often, and fondly, of my birth. I think she enjoys recalling the day her favorite grandchild became a reality; I mean, it's no secret how much she adores me. I've seen the disdain in their eyes, when Vlad and Ana and Valen bear witness to the change in Grandmama when I'm around. I have, and always will be, the favorite; it's my prerogative.
When we arrived in Buckinghamshire, I remember looking at our new home with the same disdain. England would never measure up to the Mother Land; where we once had forests of dark and enchanting secrets, we now had fields and an openness that I would never grow accustom to. The happiest moment of my life in England was the day Durmstrang sent for me.
I was, no I am, a Daughter of the Blood. It was always my destiny to attend the school of my line; like my very namesake, I am of the Purest. I left behind my beloved Grandmama; her words were like ice in my veins and I knew that no matter what happened, or where I went, I would always remember. Смерть Перед бесчестия (Death Before Dishonour)
Durmstrang had become my new home and Eastern Europe was my playground. The war had gradually started to build around us; Japan unleashed hell on America at the end of nineteen-forty-one and in nineteen-forty-two I was summoned back to the Borovsky homestead in Buckinghamshire.
It was in nineteen-forty-three that I joined Vlad and Ana at Hogwarts; the war still raging all around us and I was in the Great Hall eating at a table clad in emerald and silver. Where I had excelled at Durmstrang, I was considered behind at Hogwarts. I can still see the smug looks on Vlad and Ana's faces when they realized I was officially the same year as them.
I started writing and reading poetry to keep their images out of my mind and the longing for the Mother Land and Durmstrang from my heart. I have never felt so alone, even among family, as I do here. I'll keep my head up though, and continue to write Grandmama as she requested, because I'm a Borovsky and the favorite. It's my prerogative.
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Viktoria had left Durmstrang for Hogwarts but had never successfully made it. Instead she chose to open her own spot in Knockturn Alley but disappeared mysteriously for a few years. Returning to London, her 10-year-old daughter in tow, she is taking back possession of her business from her business manager. The events surrounding her daughter and the child's father are still undiscussed amongst the family. Vik instead choosing to keep a low profile as she raises Vanya on her own, as she always has.
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:Viktoria had seen the incident go down, the young woman and the shoe a wreck upon the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. It had already been a long morning. Trips to the market for supplies, a stop at Gringott's to deposit some money, a quick drink at the Hag's Head; all in preparation for the event at Séance that evening. As much as she wanted to ignore the woman and continue about her way--it went against Viktoria's nature. "Here, let me help!" she called out, scooping down to pick up the broken heel. It had made it way through the feet of those traversing Diagon Alley but she had retrieved it with a little effort.
Carefully she sauntered over to where Amelia was. Hand extending the remnants of the young woman's shoe to its original owner. "I'm sorry about your shoes. They look nice." What a weirdo. Vik mentally kicked herself. "I'm Viktoria. Viktoria Borovsky. And you are?" she inquired, offering her free hand to the young woman. An attempt at returning her upright and perhaps a new friend. One never knew.
OTHERHow did you find us? Previous Member.
