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E L S E W H E R E A D U L T
CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Izolda Vladimirovna Pavlova
Gender: Female
Age: Twenty-Eight
Blood Status: Pureblood
Education:
Durmstrang (1929-1936)
Lomonosov Moscow State University (1936-1940)
Residence:
Hogsmeade, Wizarding London, England
Occupation
Unspeakable
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?
Ministry of Magic (Unspeakable)/i]
Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.
If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here (http://hogwarts-school.net/sortinghat/index.php?topic=1178.0).
- Charms: 7
- Divination: 11
- Transfiguration: 6
- Summoning: 7
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
N/A
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Zailey Petrova, Jezebel Morgenstern, Viktoria Borovsky
Biography: (300 words minimum.)
The Mother Land has always been my home.
I was born on St. Valentine's Day in 1918. My mother spoke fondly of the day of my birth, even about the biting temperature and the layer of snow that covered the walkways and streets beneath the warmth of our flat in St. Petersburg. My life has always been one of comfort and luxury thanks to my Father and war.
As a child I was smart as a whip, or so it's been noted, but my mouth could never keep up with the my wit and intellect. It left me with a stutter that took a great many of years to break, but when I finally blossomed it was a sight to behold. There was no doubt that I took after the maternal side of my family, and there was no doubt that my future children would embark down the same genetic path.
I have always known of my magical heritage and the powers that us witches and wizards are granted with upon birth, my calling has always been of the Divine Arts and I have never once shied away from it. It's the very reason I came to London, I just knew she was here. We will get to that soon enough though.
When I was eleven, I received my call from Durmstrang and my formal years of training were set to begin. I had lost my stutter and gained a confidence, a sureness, that I had never known. To say I excelled at school would be an understatement; I was, year-after-year, top of my class and had a group of well-rounded friends.
In my fifth year, I was named a Prefect and it only increased my popularity among my peers. And then I met him.
Ivan.
He became my world, my everything despite our difference in age. We had met while I was on weekend in Moscow. Ivan was tall and brooding, highly intelligent despite the social awkwardness he exhibited, and together we were madly in love. Or so my fifteen years of experience led me to believe.
In the fall of 1932, I came down with a severe illness that left me bedridden for weeks. Too weak to eat, let alone hold anything down, I spent my days longing for the outdoors, for the busy streets of Moscow, and for Ivan. The physician came and told me to expect the unexpected; I already knew what he had meant.
On May 01, 1933 I gave birth to twins; a boy and a girl. They were not unloved, despite Ivan’s noticeable disappearance, and the last memory I have of my two beloved’s is the screaming of my little girl as the nurse carried her away and I was returned to Durmstrang.
My life back at school was incomplete, I longed for my children, but rules were rules and a fifteen-year-old mother was both inappropriate and inconvenient for both Durmstrang and my family. Not only had I lost my will to exist, I had lost Ivan and my twins as well.
I was a heartbroken girl.
In the spring of 1936 I graduated from Durmstrang and spent my summer trying to track down the fate of my children. I had been lucky enough to appoint them names and therefore had a starting point. I was successfully able to locate the orphanage but I was too late. They were both gone. One to England and the other to India.
I knew then what my destiny was. Every child needs their Mother and every Mother needs their child; it's the way of life.
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:
The piece of paper had been crumpled and ran through, what looked like, a pile of dirt. The brunette female slowly meandered down the street of Diagon Alley, eyeing the different buildings as she tried to retrace the steps of her child. "Here?" she muttered to herself, standing doubtfully in front of a quaint shop with the word 'Ollivander's' etched into the window.
As quickly as she had made up her mind to enter, Iz could hear the cries of a woman in distress and quickly moved to locate the source. One never knew how a simple connection could lead to a chain of events that could potentially lead to her daughter. Pushing her way past the crowd, she spotted Amelia.
Instinctively, she threw her arm out to the girl. "C'mon! No place for you down there!" she said icily, her tone much more harsh than the soft curves of her face. "Is your heel alright?" she inquired before stuffing the paper into her pocket and offering a smile.
OTHER
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