Rosamarry Kalicc
- Status:
- Half-blood
- Nationality:
- English
- Residence:
- Reading, England
- Function:
- First year, Slytherin
- Wand:
- 27,9 cm rosewood and jackalope antler
~~this is temporary, will be changed later on~~
Encyclopedia
Her mother was never one to see a proper doctor, so on the day of September 26th, 2007, Rosamarry was home-born in the Kalicc Manor to loving parents. She was a spitting image of her mother; Wild red hair, no matter how many times you put a brush through that wild mane, it would never tame, sticking out wildly any which way. It didn't help that she insisted on keeping it long. Her face was small, and even as a child her eyes always seemed a little too big for the rest of her face, glowing with the bright carefree passion of youth, a striking citrus green, like her irises were flooded with lime juice or the clear spring morning sun baring through the cracks in the branches, illuminating the leaves. The corners of her eyes always seemed scrunched up though, a bright smile plastered across her thin pink lips. She was a sweet child, bubbly and warm to any new person she met. Loud, maybe a bit obnoxious, back then it was hard to shut her up. Despite her parents always trying to dress her prim and proper, she was always getting down and dirty somehow. Whether it was messing about in the garden, or playing with the family dog, whatever it was, she always seemed to ruin her clothes. But that was no matter for this family. They loved their wild child.
What could have happened that changed her so much?
Well, let's just say her father was a muggle businessman.
Sometimes... Sometimes he would do some business he shouldn't.
Sometimes that business got people hurt.
Unfortunately for this family, the person who got hurt was Rosa's own mother. She was killed. A brutal muggle murderer. It broke the family. Rosa wasn't the same after that. She was quieter, rarely speaking for a good chunk of time. She lost that wildfire burning in her heart. A shell. Her father changed as well, becoming cold and unforgiving. It never helped that Rosa was a spitting image of her mother, the sight of his own daughter was painful sometimes. Somehow though, he did remarry. A sweet lady she was, though Rosa always kept her distance. The father and new step-mother soon produced a son, who father deemed heir. It was almost a blessing. But Rosa's father never paid attention to her the same way. While he was busy dealing with raising his new heir, Rosa became mostly self-reliant, growing into a quiet, proper little girl for the most part.
This leads us to our Rosa.
She's a much more slender girl than she was before, maybe even slightly underfed. Her fiery hair was always up or out of her face in some way, the most significant being a side braid. Her eyes didn't look as much like spring-lit leaves, more like a poisonous citrus, guarded, always focused on her surroundings. She lost that quirk to her lip, now pressed into an emotionless line. She hardly speaks, if at all. Most haven't heard her speak. Honestly, it's a wonder that she hasn't forgotten what her own voice sounds like. Her posture is very straight, back straight, shoulders back, chin up, like a proper young girl. Surprisingly though, most of her clothing belongs to her mother. Her father is always either too embarrassed, nervous, or forgetful of buying Rosa these sorts of things and has on multiple occasions just left her to her mother's clothes.
Personality wise, it wouldn't be too far off to say that she has changed quite a bit. Like a child who had lived through a war. Though, she had hardly ever seen violence in anywhere other than her books. But she's instinctive, cold, and silent. You could describe her as- ironic to her name- A rose that refused to bloom, burying itself deeper among the thorned ivy. It takes a lot of work to get this young girl to open up. It's a slow, maybe even painful process. But after a little work, you may see her starting to calm, maybe not so on guard. Though one wrong move, one misstep, and she'll close right back up, as would a morning-glory in the light of a full moon. If you are to peel away her layers, you'd find a soft, timid girl underneath it all. A heart doused in gold. A quirk to her almost always neutral lips. A faint whisper of light in those citrus eyes. She might even be brave enough to speak. This is all, of course, one big IF. As said before it isn't easy breaking the silver-plated barricade she has built around her tiny frame. This small Kalicc daughter is not an easy case, do not ever forget that about her.
Encyclopedia
Her mother was never one to see a proper doctor, so on the day of September 26th, 2007, Rosamarry was home-born in the Kalicc Manor to loving parents. She was a spitting image of her mother; Wild red hair, no matter how many times you put a brush through that wild mane, it would never tame, sticking out wildly any which way. It didn't help that she insisted on keeping it long. Her face was small, and even as a child her eyes always seemed a little too big for the rest of her face, glowing with the bright carefree passion of youth, a striking citrus green, like her irises were flooded with lime juice or the clear spring morning sun baring through the cracks in the branches, illuminating the leaves. The corners of her eyes always seemed scrunched up though, a bright smile plastered across her thin pink lips. She was a sweet child, bubbly and warm to any new person she met. Loud, maybe a bit obnoxious, back then it was hard to shut her up. Despite her parents always trying to dress her prim and proper, she was always getting down and dirty somehow. Whether it was messing about in the garden, or playing with the family dog, whatever it was, she always seemed to ruin her clothes. But that was no matter for this family. They loved their wild child.
What could have happened that changed her so much?
Well, let's just say her father was a muggle businessman.
Sometimes... Sometimes he would do some business he shouldn't.
Sometimes that business got people hurt.
Unfortunately for this family, the person who got hurt was Rosa's own mother. She was killed. A brutal muggle murderer. It broke the family. Rosa wasn't the same after that. She was quieter, rarely speaking for a good chunk of time. She lost that wildfire burning in her heart. A shell. Her father changed as well, becoming cold and unforgiving. It never helped that Rosa was a spitting image of her mother, the sight of his own daughter was painful sometimes. Somehow though, he did remarry. A sweet lady she was, though Rosa always kept her distance. The father and new step-mother soon produced a son, who father deemed heir. It was almost a blessing. But Rosa's father never paid attention to her the same way. While he was busy dealing with raising his new heir, Rosa became mostly self-reliant, growing into a quiet, proper little girl for the most part.
This leads us to our Rosa.
She's a much more slender girl than she was before, maybe even slightly underfed. Her fiery hair was always up or out of her face in some way, the most significant being a side braid. Her eyes didn't look as much like spring-lit leaves, more like a poisonous citrus, guarded, always focused on her surroundings. She lost that quirk to her lip, now pressed into an emotionless line. She hardly speaks, if at all. Most haven't heard her speak. Honestly, it's a wonder that she hasn't forgotten what her own voice sounds like. Her posture is very straight, back straight, shoulders back, chin up, like a proper young girl. Surprisingly though, most of her clothing belongs to her mother. Her father is always either too embarrassed, nervous, or forgetful of buying Rosa these sorts of things and has on multiple occasions just left her to her mother's clothes.
Personality wise, it wouldn't be too far off to say that she has changed quite a bit. Like a child who had lived through a war. Though, she had hardly ever seen violence in anywhere other than her books. But she's instinctive, cold, and silent. You could describe her as- ironic to her name- A rose that refused to bloom, burying itself deeper among the thorned ivy. It takes a lot of work to get this young girl to open up. It's a slow, maybe even painful process. But after a little work, you may see her starting to calm, maybe not so on guard. Though one wrong move, one misstep, and she'll close right back up, as would a morning-glory in the light of a full moon. If you are to peel away her layers, you'd find a soft, timid girl underneath it all. A heart doused in gold. A quirk to her almost always neutral lips. A faint whisper of light in those citrus eyes. She might even be brave enough to speak. This is all, of course, one big IF. As said before it isn't easy breaking the silver-plated barricade she has built around her tiny frame. This small Kalicc daughter is not an easy case, do not ever forget that about her.