Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=44935
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Cats Grace (y1) Lovely Creature (y2) Fearless (y3)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
INPC of Archer Duncan
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Cats Grace (y1) Lovely Creature (y2) Fearless (y3)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
It came to no surprise to anybody that Liliya Starkova had been engaged in ballet from a young age. It seemed almost stereotypical, considering her nationality and status, yet even in the nature of her upbringing, she managed to continue dancing well into her Pre-teen and teenage years. It was through dance that she developed a sort of ballerina’s grace, an elegance that would have otherwise been different if it were only born out of education of etiquette. There was something deeper in her — a strength too, not just the fragile poise of a body stood taut. It was in the way her muscles contracted to move, and it was in the way her body relaxed in the sun.
Despite the tumultuous ongoings of her childhood (being disconnected from her biological family, before subsequently bouncing from foster ones to foster ones), she had always found the time to dance. The Volkovs had trained into her a philosophy of excellence, and while she despised them from the way she was raised, pressure was difficult to take off once it was put on. It became something that came from inside her own heart. She emphasised the importance of her training to her foster families, often with more audacity than it was worth. Usually, not wanting to spend the extra money, she received a no in her face. They barely celebrated her birthday. They would not have allowed for anything more than the essentials.
Yet Liliya was a resourceful girl, and it was soon that she found ways to train herself. Empty basement, open fields, wherever there was enough space became space for her to dance. She stretched on rocks and did leaps through the grass. The mud and dirt was romanticised, more often than not, but it was something she could live with. In the fresh air, with the chirp of the birds, she was almost content.
After being adopted by the Starkovs, her hobbies were fostered with much greater care. Before her attendance at Durmstrang, classes were held in the manor’s own dance room, and she was even invited to a competition or two. Despite making no further rounds, she was still given compliments from Ivan, Oliwia, and her adopted siblings.
It was through this fostering of dance that her innate grace was brought out and honed. It was not something that was wholly unfamiliar to her, but it was not something that had always been present in her either.
It is with this grace that Liliya learnt to slip unnoticed in the world. Her footsteps light, her presence petite, she does not use her skills for ostentatious displays but rather, to find the peace of not being perceived.
Despite the tumultuous ongoings of her childhood (being disconnected from her biological family, before subsequently bouncing from foster ones to foster ones), she had always found the time to dance. The Volkovs had trained into her a philosophy of excellence, and while she despised them from the way she was raised, pressure was difficult to take off once it was put on. It became something that came from inside her own heart. She emphasised the importance of her training to her foster families, often with more audacity than it was worth. Usually, not wanting to spend the extra money, she received a no in her face. They barely celebrated her birthday. They would not have allowed for anything more than the essentials.
Yet Liliya was a resourceful girl, and it was soon that she found ways to train herself. Empty basement, open fields, wherever there was enough space became space for her to dance. She stretched on rocks and did leaps through the grass. The mud and dirt was romanticised, more often than not, but it was something she could live with. In the fresh air, with the chirp of the birds, she was almost content.
After being adopted by the Starkovs, her hobbies were fostered with much greater care. Before her attendance at Durmstrang, classes were held in the manor’s own dance room, and she was even invited to a competition or two. Despite making no further rounds, she was still given compliments from Ivan, Oliwia, and her adopted siblings.
It was through this fostering of dance that her innate grace was brought out and honed. It was not something that was wholly unfamiliar to her, but it was not something that had always been present in her either.
It is with this grace that Liliya learnt to slip unnoticed in the world. Her footsteps light, her presence petite, she does not use her skills for ostentatious displays but rather, to find the peace of not being perceived.
Reducio
Liliya Starkova was the kind of girl you would call pretty, but only because she worked on it. Not that you would ever know, unless you looked closely enough.
She was not particularly dazzling, not by the standards others of her household and the greater community were held to. Her features were not sculpted by the hands of Michelangelo and she was not coloured by the paints of Van Gogh. She was pretty, but by all means, it was an average pretty. So, one might ask, what was this imposter doing in the lovely creature club?
Beauty, however, did not just come in natural ways. Enhancement of features, too, was beauty, and that was where other methods beyond birth genetics came in.
As she dipped from preteen into teen hood, she began to experiment more. First was her hair. She curled and styled it in ways she had not tried before. From elaborate buns to braids, she even dyed a few streaks once she had acquired the right spells. Sometimes the results were more disastrous than others, but the gorgeous strawberry tint to her blonde she had for a few months had been worth the shot.
As she turned properly thirteen and a few goth friends of hers started coming to school with full eyes of makeup, she asked to borrow their shadows and tints, and with some level of persuasion, it worked. Their palettes were largely unusable to her, far too dark and seriously, when would she ever consider black lipstick? Yet she made do with what she had (the popular girls soon followed in a more fitting style, yet she had been too intimidated to talk to them) and after learning by imitation, managed something that was not at all terrible. A painter, after all, was still a painter.
Yet Lilya had never been satisfied with the ordinary. She did not want pale pink lips and bronze eyes. She wanted her eyelids to be baby blue and forest green and every shade of the rainbow. She wanted glitter, glitz, and glam.
When she would become a member of the Starkov households, her endeavour would be much more supported as vanity sets were bought, palettes with ranges she would have never imagined.
Suffice it to say, she would not disappoint much when it came to looks.
She was not trying to draw attention to herself. Simply, she just liked the feeling of being pretty.
She was not particularly dazzling, not by the standards others of her household and the greater community were held to. Her features were not sculpted by the hands of Michelangelo and she was not coloured by the paints of Van Gogh. She was pretty, but by all means, it was an average pretty. So, one might ask, what was this imposter doing in the lovely creature club?
Beauty, however, did not just come in natural ways. Enhancement of features, too, was beauty, and that was where other methods beyond birth genetics came in.
As she dipped from preteen into teen hood, she began to experiment more. First was her hair. She curled and styled it in ways she had not tried before. From elaborate buns to braids, she even dyed a few streaks once she had acquired the right spells. Sometimes the results were more disastrous than others, but the gorgeous strawberry tint to her blonde she had for a few months had been worth the shot.
As she turned properly thirteen and a few goth friends of hers started coming to school with full eyes of makeup, she asked to borrow their shadows and tints, and with some level of persuasion, it worked. Their palettes were largely unusable to her, far too dark and seriously, when would she ever consider black lipstick? Yet she made do with what she had (the popular girls soon followed in a more fitting style, yet she had been too intimidated to talk to them) and after learning by imitation, managed something that was not at all terrible. A painter, after all, was still a painter.
Yet Lilya had never been satisfied with the ordinary. She did not want pale pink lips and bronze eyes. She wanted her eyelids to be baby blue and forest green and every shade of the rainbow. She wanted glitter, glitz, and glam.
When she would become a member of the Starkov households, her endeavour would be much more supported as vanity sets were bought, palettes with ranges she would have never imagined.
Suffice it to say, she would not disappoint much when it came to looks.
She was not trying to draw attention to herself. Simply, she just liked the feeling of being pretty.
Reducio
In the span of a year, so much had changed. Life whirled Liliya Starkova around on her axis in such a way that she would never be able to survive it without a dash of courage.
More than a dash. Fearlessness.
Fearlessness was not courage at all — it was defined as the complete absence of the emotion. The kind of emotion that gripped her at the edges, seizing her until anxiety wracked her body. That, she knew, hidden in the way she tapped her fingers, manicured and delicate, and every little habit that gave away the disguised fright she buried deep beneath smiles and make up.
This was not quite the right word. Fearlessness, she realised, was a super power she did not possess.
In fact, her life had been one controlled by fear. Fear of her family wrath, the foster system’s turbulence, the uncertainty that laid ahead of her as she moved from home to home, before finally settling down.
Yet there was a value in her that would no doubt call for the same praise, if not more, for where fearlessness implied a neutral action either way, a deed committed in spite of existing fear was one honourable. It was a greater strength of character to conquer that fear across tumultuous waves, rather than sail on calm oceans, lacking of such a predicament.
When her hands shook just before the Spring Royalty pageant, she had chosen to step on stage. When the pre-performance nerves finally got to her as she faced the crowd, she had chosen to speak her name with pride. When she had ended her show and tears had welled in her eyes, she feared she would break into sobs, she had chosen to stand tall and raise her chin.
The world, she had learnt, was not one that gave anything easily. No matter the road that laid ahead, fear would always be present, yet she did not seek to banish it. Romantic as she may be, moving mountains was not a delusion she would add to her list. Yet humans, who did not have the power of God, invented hiking boots instead, and someday, it was her dream to build a gondola above. One that could take her over the treacherous terrains of her fear.
Perhaps it would be battered by rain and gales, but scathed or unscathed, she would arrive at the peak nevertheless.
More than a dash. Fearlessness.
Fearlessness was not courage at all — it was defined as the complete absence of the emotion. The kind of emotion that gripped her at the edges, seizing her until anxiety wracked her body. That, she knew, hidden in the way she tapped her fingers, manicured and delicate, and every little habit that gave away the disguised fright she buried deep beneath smiles and make up.
This was not quite the right word. Fearlessness, she realised, was a super power she did not possess.
In fact, her life had been one controlled by fear. Fear of her family wrath, the foster system’s turbulence, the uncertainty that laid ahead of her as she moved from home to home, before finally settling down.
Yet there was a value in her that would no doubt call for the same praise, if not more, for where fearlessness implied a neutral action either way, a deed committed in spite of existing fear was one honourable. It was a greater strength of character to conquer that fear across tumultuous waves, rather than sail on calm oceans, lacking of such a predicament.
When her hands shook just before the Spring Royalty pageant, she had chosen to step on stage. When the pre-performance nerves finally got to her as she faced the crowd, she had chosen to speak her name with pride. When she had ended her show and tears had welled in her eyes, she feared she would break into sobs, she had chosen to stand tall and raise her chin.
The world, she had learnt, was not one that gave anything easily. No matter the road that laid ahead, fear would always be present, yet she did not seek to banish it. Romantic as she may be, moving mountains was not a delusion she would add to her list. Yet humans, who did not have the power of God, invented hiking boots instead, and someday, it was her dream to build a gondola above. One that could take her over the treacherous terrains of her fear.
Perhaps it would be battered by rain and gales, but scathed or unscathed, she would arrive at the peak nevertheless.
APPROVED - Sako, 29 MAY
-> Lovely Creature
-> Fearless
PENDING - Sako, 29 MAY
(i)'s Grace
The ability is based on hiding, and observing from the shadows. Could you add a section in which Liliya uses her grace as a ballerina to connect more to the ability?
APPROVED - Sako, 2nd JUNE
->
All abilities have been approved
Last edited by Liliya Starkova on 2 Jun 2026, 10:50, edited 1 time in total.
INPC of Archer Duncan
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: Here
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:’s Grace
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Light always has a shred of darkness PC: Derek Alexander Jay
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
’s GraceDescribe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Jennifer Lin-Wang was a kid from New York City. She grew up with sidewalks and busy streets all around her. This meant she had to be really aware of what was going on and be ready to move. While other kids were tripping and falling Jennifer was like an athlete. She never. Ever. Fell. Down.
As Jennifer got older, people started to notice how good she was at moving. She could walk through a room without bumping into anyone. She could run fast and not trip over things.. She always kept her balance even when things got tough. Whether she was walking on a ledge or running on a slippery floor Jennifer was always in control.
Her friends used to tease her. Say she moved gracefully like a cat. It was kind of true. Jennifer had a strong and silent way of moving. She could always catch herself before she fell. It was like her body knew what to do to stay upright and not get hurt.
When Jennifer was in school there was a kid who was really mean to her. This kid would mock her. Leave her out of games. It made school really hard for Jennifer. Even though she tried to look like it did not bother her it really did. She would cry a lot when she was alone.
Jennifer got really tired of being treated this way. One night she had finally decided to sneak into her school to get revenge. The school was really quiet and still which was strange to her, because it was always so busy, during the day. Jennifer knew the school well so she could move around without making any noise.
When she got to the kids locker Jennifer felt a little weird. She could remember all the times the kid had laughed at her or made fun of her.. She pushed those thoughts away. She had something she wanted to do.. In just a few minutes the mean kid's locker was covered in this thick smelly paint that Jennifer had created in her basement.
After that Jennifer quietly sneaked out of the school again. She knew which doors would creak and which paths had the shadows. She made a run for it soon as she got off the school grounds laughing and crying at the same time. She could not wait to see the kid's face the next day at school.
As Jennifer got older, people started to notice how good she was at moving. She could walk through a room without bumping into anyone. She could run fast and not trip over things.. She always kept her balance even when things got tough. Whether she was walking on a ledge or running on a slippery floor Jennifer was always in control.
Her friends used to tease her. Say she moved gracefully like a cat. It was kind of true. Jennifer had a strong and silent way of moving. She could always catch herself before she fell. It was like her body knew what to do to stay upright and not get hurt.
When Jennifer was in school there was a kid who was really mean to her. This kid would mock her. Leave her out of games. It made school really hard for Jennifer. Even though she tried to look like it did not bother her it really did. She would cry a lot when she was alone.
Jennifer got really tired of being treated this way. One night she had finally decided to sneak into her school to get revenge. The school was really quiet and still which was strange to her, because it was always so busy, during the day. Jennifer knew the school well so she could move around without making any noise.
When she got to the kids locker Jennifer felt a little weird. She could remember all the times the kid had laughed at her or made fun of her.. She pushed those thoughts away. She had something she wanted to do.. In just a few minutes the mean kid's locker was covered in this thick smelly paint that Jennifer had created in her basement.
After that Jennifer quietly sneaked out of the school again. She knew which doors would creak and which paths had the shadows. She made a run for it soon as she got off the school grounds laughing and crying at the same time. She could not wait to see the kid's face the next day at school.
APPROVED - Sako, 2 June
Light always has a shred of darkness PC: Derek Alexander Jay
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: [link]
Name of Ability that You Are Applying for: Rapid Reviver (Year 1)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
ReducioIlya had never wanted to be a healer, nor did he possess anything resembling interest in the noble art of saving lives or the nerdier sort of fascination with all the bits that can be done on a cellular scale. What he did have an interest in was an undisturbed afternoon.
The first time someone collapsed in his vicinity, Ilya had been ten years old: a maid trailing his youngest brother had fallen by heat exhaustion not fifteen steps from where he had arranged himself in a good sunlit corner of the grounds. His brother, being the kind of person he was, had promptly fled. And Ilya — who at ten still retained some residual sense of obligation he has since largely misplaced — was left there with the problem, a problem he had no means at that time to address, and so he had found others who could; thus, a good part of the next few hours was swallowed by the bellowing and investigations that fetching help had set off.
He thought about that afternoon for a very, very long time afterward. Fetching for help required walking several hundred steps to summon someone who would then summon the estate physician, which would then produce an audience, and the audience brings in noises, and noises attract the housekeeper, who had opinions about Ilya specifically and expressed them at length and would likely launch an investigation that had no definable end, consuming all that was left of Ilya's day. Or, he could take the 2 to 20 steps necessary to arrive at whoever had collapsed, do something about it in less than ten minutes, and send them off to find the physician themselves. (There was technically a third option, but leaving someone on the ground indefinitely carried criminal liability so Ilya had not considered it.)
He brought the second option to one of his tutors shortly after, requesting that a few lessons be set aside for the basics of reviving an unresponsive person, with no interest at all in anything beyond getting them back on their feet and out of his vicinity; the tutors obliged. Over the course of several sessions, Ilya acquired the Heimlich maneuver and CPR, also additionally developed what he considered a more operationally sound supplementary method: sustained pressure on the philtrum, deliberate head movement, compression across the nailbed, sternal rubbing, and prolonged force applied to the supraorbital ridge. There was definitely risk of moderate minor injury, yet the probability of the subject regaining consciousness was remarkably high.
That was all he needed. The moment the other person opened their eyes was the moment his involvement could formally conclude, and the rest of the day remained intact.
Word Count: 425 / 400
STATUS: Approved, Nadira, June 16th
| PC: Mamori Anezaki |
|
#3F6B85 |
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: [link]
Name of Ability that You Are Applying for: Savior (Year 2)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio"JOIN THE KOLDOVSTORETZ QUIDDITCH TEAM" — so read the letter from his second-born sister, Ksenia, arriving near the end of his first year, along with the assurance "win matches, and I will mention your name favourably to father and mother on occasion." That she was trading him as a favour to someone was very apparent, but who that someone was he had no idea. Ilya had come to Koldovstoretz to put three time zones between himself and this, and yet here was Ksenia, arm extended across all three.
Ilya could refuse. He was by several metrics entitled to refuse, but past experience with Ksenia had established that refusal came with a counter-offer of the same good words delivered in the opposite direction for as long as she felt like it, so Ilya wrote back "Your humble servant obliges."
He made the team (first string, somehow) and, upon doing the bare minimum of research arrived at the conclusion that there was no comfortable position in this sport. Beater required target selection and the strength to act on it; Keeper was theoretically a defense role until it wasn't (given the current trend of sending the Keeper into offensive play); Seeker and Chaser were the positions that directly determined the score, and of those two the latter functioned as a utility role requiring full-court awareness at all times. The only restful and easy positions available were the bench and the stands... neither of which had been offered to him.
However there was one role he had managed to tolerate: save duty. Typically assigned to whichever chaser was least able to contribute offensively, but it was a defensive role on equal footing with the keeper — the keeper stopped the Quaffle, save duty stopped the players (from falling). Said position had a useful self-reinforcing quality as well, basically if your scoring ability was poor enough, your foul rate low enough and your rescue instincts apparently decent, you would always get placed there without anyone reconsidering it. No need to track scoring opportunities or watch the point board or think about positioning or tactics. The only thing that needed watching was your own teammates, which was a significant reduction in cognitive load. This was as far as he could tell, the most energy-efficient position the sport offered.
He intended to hold it for as long as he was on this team and committed to it accordingly. Whilst his fellow Chaser teammates drilled their throw accuracy, he practiced saves. Whilst they ran passing patterns, he practiced saves. Whilst they worked on positioning to box out Chasers carrying the Quaffle, he practiced saves again. (Specifically by delegating the wingardium-leviosa-ing to whichever second-string players were available and positioning himself for the catch, then increasing the number until he could collect two or three from different brooms in a single pass without losing any of them.) That was the extent of his involvement on the pitch — SAVE, and if possible two in one round, and better still to haul a half-dead teammate clear of a Bludger and have them back on their own broom before anyone noticed they were gone. Everything else was someone else's problem; his job was to be extremely good at one thing and to have no job beyond that.Word Count: 542 / 400
STATUS: Approved, Nadira, June 20th
| PC: Mamori Anezaki |
|
#3F6B85 |
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: Abracadabra
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Obnoxiously Strong (ABILITY 1 spot)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 535/400
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Obnoxiously Strong (ABILITY 1 spot)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 535/400
Reducio
Since he could remember — and since anyone around him could remember, too — Thales had always been strong.
It started off when he was a baby; perhaps not as any particular feat of great strength at two years old, but as an enduring commitment to putting force into everything he did, however subconsciously. He wanted to run before he could properly walk. He wanted to yell before he could properly say a word. He had a pair of lungs that properly belted when he cried as a newborn. As a toddler — little fists that threw blind punches and little legs that kicked fiercely during tantrums, resisting any attempts to keep him manageable in public scenarios.
Thales’ parents, though perhaps not the happiest with constantly having to wrangle him, had the sense to help him harness what some would call endurance and what some would call plain stubbornness. He was put into soccer at the ripe old age of four: though the programme mostly consisted of simple drills, he took to it like a fish to water. His interest did not deteriorate through the years — hell, he was even more happy to participate as he grew up. Going from simple dribbling and getting a basic understanding of the rules to getting to be better than other kids?
Thales fell in love with the sport, and thus continued training. Both in programmes at his school and outside of them — it turned out that he very well could apply himself to something, so long as it served his ultimate goal of being better, if not simply the best. He attended soccer camps during the summer; during the school year, he would get home to run drills until the sun went down and his mother had to call him in to eat.
Thales’ focus soon extended past the muggle curriculum of the international school he attended, and to Quidditch, as well. When playing skirmishes with his brothers on their kid brooms, he quickly discovered that training his strength and endurance for the sake of soccer made him a far better flyer than his brothers were; and though they seldom had enough players for proper roles, everyone in his family knew that if the occasion arose, Thales would be holding a beater’s bat, ready to wipe the floor with anyone who got a little too close.
His single-minded focus did not go unnoticed. At the age of nine, two years before his Castelobruxo invitation letter arrived, Thales was made the captain of his school’s soccer team — a position he found more than his fair share of pride in. He was no longer relegated to opening jam jars in his grandma’s kitchen — he was a leader. A captain: recognised as above the rest of his peers… even if they were, well, barely ten years of age.
Thales kept up with his training, of course; he didn’t want to fall off the roll he was already on. There was some magnetic pull to the knowledge that he was strong. Perhaps it wasn’t something that Thales himself registered consciously, but he knew damn well he liked being taller, stronger, better than his peers, and he would do anything to keep that status.
It started off when he was a baby; perhaps not as any particular feat of great strength at two years old, but as an enduring commitment to putting force into everything he did, however subconsciously. He wanted to run before he could properly walk. He wanted to yell before he could properly say a word. He had a pair of lungs that properly belted when he cried as a newborn. As a toddler — little fists that threw blind punches and little legs that kicked fiercely during tantrums, resisting any attempts to keep him manageable in public scenarios.
Thales’ parents, though perhaps not the happiest with constantly having to wrangle him, had the sense to help him harness what some would call endurance and what some would call plain stubbornness. He was put into soccer at the ripe old age of four: though the programme mostly consisted of simple drills, he took to it like a fish to water. His interest did not deteriorate through the years — hell, he was even more happy to participate as he grew up. Going from simple dribbling and getting a basic understanding of the rules to getting to be better than other kids?
Thales fell in love with the sport, and thus continued training. Both in programmes at his school and outside of them — it turned out that he very well could apply himself to something, so long as it served his ultimate goal of being better, if not simply the best. He attended soccer camps during the summer; during the school year, he would get home to run drills until the sun went down and his mother had to call him in to eat.
Thales’ focus soon extended past the muggle curriculum of the international school he attended, and to Quidditch, as well. When playing skirmishes with his brothers on their kid brooms, he quickly discovered that training his strength and endurance for the sake of soccer made him a far better flyer than his brothers were; and though they seldom had enough players for proper roles, everyone in his family knew that if the occasion arose, Thales would be holding a beater’s bat, ready to wipe the floor with anyone who got a little too close.
His single-minded focus did not go unnoticed. At the age of nine, two years before his Castelobruxo invitation letter arrived, Thales was made the captain of his school’s soccer team — a position he found more than his fair share of pride in. He was no longer relegated to opening jam jars in his grandma’s kitchen — he was a leader. A captain: recognised as above the rest of his peers… even if they were, well, barely ten years of age.
Thales kept up with his training, of course; he didn’t want to fall off the roll he was already on. There was some magnetic pull to the knowledge that he was strong. Perhaps it wasn’t something that Thales himself registered consciously, but he knew damn well he liked being taller, stronger, better than his peers, and he would do anything to keep that status.
STATUS: Approved, Santiago, 25/06/26
esme hestridge. second year slytherin duelist. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: here
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Evasive Maneuvers (Y1 ability)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Evasive Maneuvers (Y1 ability)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
If one were to choose one word to describe Luuk Tjin-A-Wing, it would be evasive. His inherently evasive nature first becomes evident upon observing the way his body is physically constructed. His height is considered to be short; Luuk stands at 145 cm, and even younger students often find themselves towering over him. His shoulders are built rather narrowly, and his figure can be considered quite slim and slender for a boy his age. Though perhaps not the most socially acceptable physical appearance — for many boys desired to be tall, majestic giants — his height and stature allowed him to slip under people's arms, to pass through without ducking, to twirl through obstacles, to fit through gaps that seemed far too small. It was almost as though he could dance through impediments, his footsteps being naturally light. His construction rendered him exceptionally nimble and evasive, allowing him inherently sharp reflexes.
But perhaps his reflexes were not all natural; some of his elusive tendencies could be attributed to his upbringing and the environment from which he spent much of his childhood. He had become accustomed to running, to turn tail and bring himself out of any undesirable — or even dangerous — situation. It had almost become something of a hobby over the years, the way in which he would dart out the door and run. When the atmosphere became too overwhelming, when the house became too claustrophobic and the walls too confining, Luuk would simply leave. He would run, he would evade. He would perpetually run and run and run, towards the void. He would run, and then hide away in some corner, below a tree, or in an alleyway, and he would simply sit where nobody could find him. Perhaps this was part of what contributed to his reflexes — the practice of running that had been honed over time.
His evasion was not solely physical; it did not lie only in his nimble build and reflexes. He also held a psychological tendency to evade. Almost always prioritising self preservation, he would likely be willing to abandon any task at hand to simply escape. Should he sense at all anything possibly out of place — and he possessed an almost heightened, tingling sense whenever danger was near — he would be the first one to dart away into the shadows (or out of the shadows). As such, he would usually find himself getting away from a dangerous situation before it occurs. Further, he had grown alert, suspicious, of all around him. He was so evasive that he sometimes found himself evading situations that he should not escape.
(439/400)
But perhaps his reflexes were not all natural; some of his elusive tendencies could be attributed to his upbringing and the environment from which he spent much of his childhood. He had become accustomed to running, to turn tail and bring himself out of any undesirable — or even dangerous — situation. It had almost become something of a hobby over the years, the way in which he would dart out the door and run. When the atmosphere became too overwhelming, when the house became too claustrophobic and the walls too confining, Luuk would simply leave. He would run, he would evade. He would perpetually run and run and run, towards the void. He would run, and then hide away in some corner, below a tree, or in an alleyway, and he would simply sit where nobody could find him. Perhaps this was part of what contributed to his reflexes — the practice of running that had been honed over time.
His evasion was not solely physical; it did not lie only in his nimble build and reflexes. He also held a psychological tendency to evade. Almost always prioritising self preservation, he would likely be willing to abandon any task at hand to simply escape. Should he sense at all anything possibly out of place — and he possessed an almost heightened, tingling sense whenever danger was near — he would be the first one to dart away into the shadows (or out of the shadows). As such, he would usually find himself getting away from a dangerous situation before it occurs. Further, he had grown alert, suspicious, of all around him. He was so evasive that he sometimes found himself evading situations that he should not escape.
(439/400)
STATUS: Approved, Santiago, 27/06/26
| PC: Ebony Vetra | sta 6 | eva 12 | str 4 | wis 8 | arc 6 | acc 9 |
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: here
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Impartial (Y2 ability)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Impartial (Y2 ability)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
The boy was not one to be easily deceived. Luuk held an inherent suspicion that tainted the lenses from which he looked from, one constructed from years of lies. Lies — lies that went both ways. Lies that came — whether it be from his mother or his father or those people who had taken him away — and lies that went. Lies that originated from him, that he disseminated. His very own barrier, one of deception that he had constructed between himself and all others, was what prompted his suspicion. For if he could lie, who was to say others were not twisting the truth, too? It seemed strangely paradoxical, hypocritical, even, that his own smokescreens served to tear through the smokescreens of others. But as someone so accustomed to a warped reality, he came to expect it. So often he saw the worst in others, the seeds of malintent and exploitation and deception that lay within them. His glasses were the opposite shade to rose-tinted, optimism in the other’s intentions rarely being present. He came to suspect ways in which others were seeking to undermine him. It took one to know one.
It was for that reason that charm failed to sway Luuk. Those that possessed an unnatural beauty, those that held such a sweet face with tenderly douce eyes that looked upon him with such allure, those that flashed luscious hair and long, fluttering eyelashes. What good will could these manipulative beauties hold? Gentle visage accompanied with a honeyed voice, soothing you with equally honeyed words that only served as a shallow facade to a pool of deceit waiting to devour beneath the appearance. A smokescreen. A smokescreen that failed to obscure him — one that he managed to look past, to see the ugly monster hiding behind the mask.
Sometimes, it is better not to see. It is better to be blinded. But it was not to be blinded as in naive to the truth, oblivious to deception. No, it was to be blind to appearances, to be blind as to only reach inward. If a Veela could not be seen, its allure would hold no effect. There was too much to look at, sometimes. The vision becomes cluttered, the eyes blurred. The crowded nature of viewing things at all was sometimes claustrophobic. It was better, sometimes, to simply close one’s eyes. To refuse to see, to refuse to fall victim to the deceit of appearance, and to feel for what really mattered: the heart, the actions, the intention.
Looks are deceiving, but a deceiver cannot be deceived.
(428/400)
It was for that reason that charm failed to sway Luuk. Those that possessed an unnatural beauty, those that held such a sweet face with tenderly douce eyes that looked upon him with such allure, those that flashed luscious hair and long, fluttering eyelashes. What good will could these manipulative beauties hold? Gentle visage accompanied with a honeyed voice, soothing you with equally honeyed words that only served as a shallow facade to a pool of deceit waiting to devour beneath the appearance. A smokescreen. A smokescreen that failed to obscure him — one that he managed to look past, to see the ugly monster hiding behind the mask.
Sometimes, it is better not to see. It is better to be blinded. But it was not to be blinded as in naive to the truth, oblivious to deception. No, it was to be blind to appearances, to be blind as to only reach inward. If a Veela could not be seen, its allure would hold no effect. There was too much to look at, sometimes. The vision becomes cluttered, the eyes blurred. The crowded nature of viewing things at all was sometimes claustrophobic. It was better, sometimes, to simply close one’s eyes. To refuse to see, to refuse to fall victim to the deceit of appearance, and to feel for what really mattered: the heart, the actions, the intention.
Looks are deceiving, but a deceiver cannot be deceived.
(428/400)
STATUS: Approved, Santiago, 29/06/26
| PC: Ebony Vetra | sta 6 | eva 12 | str 4 | wis 8 | arc 6 | acc 9 |
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: Here
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Terrible Presence
Describe why this fits your character: 452/400
HOLIDAY MODE: 12th JULY- 29th JULY: INACTIVE
Pc: Emiline Hunter
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Terrible Presence
Describe why this fits your character: 452/400
Reducio
Axel had always struggled with being friendly towards people he didn't know. It was a bad habit that he had picked up somewhere along his childhood. Maybe it was during his mental health and grades dropping time period or maybe it was something that just suddenly turned up once he became a teenager. Or maybe it was his parents' expectations to succeed and become their version of the Brooks heritage. Axel always wore a scowl and didn't really try to be nice in the typical social situation. He would be more blunt and definitely rude.
His mental health did effect his personality significantly, he used to be much more talkative but now he could just glare right at you without saying a word. His glare often made people shut up or swallow their next thought especially as it looked rather threatening. Even his outfits screamed 'do not come near me' like the warning dog signs outside some muggle houses.
But this antisocial behaviour was a retaliation to mean kids. When he had joined in late to the school, he was the 'new kid' the class 'emo', and with kids being kids the news of him spread quickly and rumours spread. The children weren't the nicest and acted scared of him? Axel didn't think he was scary, he thought his glare could be off-putting but not scary, right? So then Axel stopped trying to be nice and friendly, he started to act rude and entitled. The stereotypical bratty pureblood who expected the world to silence with a glare or click of his fingers.
He fell fully into this role of a pureblood emo boy, becoming snappy with everyone about any little topic. This then led to him struggling to make friends as people didn't want to befriend someone who was rude and mean all the time. His parents stopped trying to force him to be civil as they knew it was a loosing battle and it made them feel uneasy having to be on the receiving end of that glare. His tone became snippier and more gruff in a way that he made cruel, his eyes seemed to always be narrowed in such a way which suggested that he was mad or so undeniably insulted it made some people not even bother to approach him.
Axel kept telling himself that he liked being alone, that he needed to be alone and that people being scared or of-put by him approaching was a good thing. He wouldn't have to bother learning name or buying presents. But aside from all that, he did occasionally wonder what it would be like if people felt comfortable to approach, then maybe just maybe he could have more friends.
Axel had always struggled with being friendly towards people he didn't know. It was a bad habit that he had picked up somewhere along his childhood. Maybe it was during his mental health and grades dropping time period or maybe it was something that just suddenly turned up once he became a teenager. Or maybe it was his parents' expectations to succeed and become their version of the Brooks heritage. Axel always wore a scowl and didn't really try to be nice in the typical social situation. He would be more blunt and definitely rude.
His mental health did effect his personality significantly, he used to be much more talkative but now he could just glare right at you without saying a word. His glare often made people shut up or swallow their next thought especially as it looked rather threatening. Even his outfits screamed 'do not come near me' like the warning dog signs outside some muggle houses.
But this antisocial behaviour was a retaliation to mean kids. When he had joined in late to the school, he was the 'new kid' the class 'emo', and with kids being kids the news of him spread quickly and rumours spread. The children weren't the nicest and acted scared of him? Axel didn't think he was scary, he thought his glare could be off-putting but not scary, right? So then Axel stopped trying to be nice and friendly, he started to act rude and entitled. The stereotypical bratty pureblood who expected the world to silence with a glare or click of his fingers.
He fell fully into this role of a pureblood emo boy, becoming snappy with everyone about any little topic. This then led to him struggling to make friends as people didn't want to befriend someone who was rude and mean all the time. His parents stopped trying to force him to be civil as they knew it was a loosing battle and it made them feel uneasy having to be on the receiving end of that glare. His tone became snippier and more gruff in a way that he made cruel, his eyes seemed to always be narrowed in such a way which suggested that he was mad or so undeniably insulted it made some people not even bother to approach him.
Axel kept telling himself that he liked being alone, that he needed to be alone and that people being scared or of-put by him approaching was a good thing. He wouldn't have to bother learning name or buying presents. But aside from all that, he did occasionally wonder what it would be like if people felt comfortable to approach, then maybe just maybe he could have more friends.
APPROVED - 5th July , Sako
HOLIDAY MODE: 12th JULY- 29th JULY: INACTIVE
Pc: Emiline Hunter
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: boop!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Advanced Casting
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 410/400
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Advanced Casting
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 410/400
Reducio
Dylan loved anything to do with dueling and casting spells. He didn’t know how to explain it, but something about the sport thrilled him. It was a joy standing in a face off against another person and casting your spell in hope that it will hit its mark. That was why Dylan the year before had chosen to join dueling. That meant he could compete against others players and actually have the chance to enjoy himself while doing it. That was why he did it. For the joy of the sport. Not for fame, not for recognition. Just for the fun of it.
Dylan has chosen to spend his newfound free time working hard and practicing as well as learning all the spells he could so he could be the best duelist on his team and a good one that that. That meant he spent countless hours just drilling two or three spells until they were perfect and he could do them without even thinking too hard about it. That was what he wanted. He wanted to be good at what he did. Then he could make his team proud and lead them to victory. And victory was always his goal. Especially if it included having fun.
There was one spell that was giving him trouble. It was a powerful spell named Incendio Duo. Its name speaking for itself. It was the next level for Incendio and Dylan had had problems in the past mastering it. It was the spell that he spent countless hours hammering against a dummy until he had finally perfected it. And once he perfected it, he would be ready to duel that summer when the official summer duels schedule came out. An invigorating excitement filled him at the thought. He was finally going to have the chance to be a duelist and show off his skills. Who wouldn’t be excited?
But that was still a good bit away. For now, he had to work hard. Practice made perfect and Dylan could see that statement come true through his hard work that was finally paying off. He could do this. He could work hard and harder until he was perfect enough and advanced enough to have spells hit their mark and do what he wanted them to do. That was his job as a duelist. He had to knock out the other team and help his team win. Once that was accomplished, he would be ready.
Dylan has chosen to spend his newfound free time working hard and practicing as well as learning all the spells he could so he could be the best duelist on his team and a good one that that. That meant he spent countless hours just drilling two or three spells until they were perfect and he could do them without even thinking too hard about it. That was what he wanted. He wanted to be good at what he did. Then he could make his team proud and lead them to victory. And victory was always his goal. Especially if it included having fun.
There was one spell that was giving him trouble. It was a powerful spell named Incendio Duo. Its name speaking for itself. It was the next level for Incendio and Dylan had had problems in the past mastering it. It was the spell that he spent countless hours hammering against a dummy until he had finally perfected it. And once he perfected it, he would be ready to duel that summer when the official summer duels schedule came out. An invigorating excitement filled him at the thought. He was finally going to have the chance to be a duelist and show off his skills. Who wouldn’t be excited?
But that was still a good bit away. For now, he had to work hard. Practice made perfect and Dylan could see that statement come true through his hard work that was finally paying off. He could do this. He could work hard and harder until he was perfect enough and advanced enough to have spells hit their mark and do what he wanted them to do. That was his job as a duelist. He had to knock out the other team and help his team win. Once that was accomplished, he would be ready.
APPROVED - 5th July , Sako
iNPC of |
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Avery Gray |
Ability applications
Link to your trunk post: Here!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Lovely creature
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 487/400
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Lovely creature
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 487/400
Reducio
Many people say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
The eye of the beholder has a name: Jamie Carville.
She is known to be manipulative, to be self serving and to do what is in her best interest, and her best interest alone. To get the results she wants she has gathered many tricks over the years, some more ethical than others and most of them very effective. One of these tricks is to use other peoples observations against them.
Jamie has always known how to tug at peoples heartstrings, how to flutter her eyelids just right to get that extra sweet, or how to flash a smile so bright her victim doesn't stand a chance at giving her a wrong answer. However Jamie had easily figured out that these things were a lot easier to do because she was pretty, it didn't make any sense to her that just because she had certain aesthetics that others found pleasing that some practically did whatever she asked. But she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
After her realisation she leaned into it heavily, she had always had an eye for fashion but she started making sure that not a single piece of clothing was out of place. She made sure to keep up with the recent trends and to never, ever wear anything that could be even remotely considered unflattering. Not that she would want to wear those articles in the first place but it helped to be aware of what the world was appreciating.
She also got very skilled in the art of make-up, teaching herself how to do practically every style under the sun. She personally preferred to have a more neutral look, one that made others think she wasn't actually wearing any, as it seemed to gather the best reactions overall, but she also loved doing more bold looks. And if she had a specific person in mind that she wanted something from she would catalogue what would get her the best reaction, sticking to that particular style until she got what she wanted.
She knew that even if she didn't do her make-up or dressed slightly more dishevelled that she would likely still get a similar reaction, she was beauty incarnate after all, but she also loved it. She loved seeing what she could do with the things at her disposal, turning an usually ugly outfit into something royalty could wear or practising new eye shadow techniques in the mirror for hours on end. It calmed her, knowing that the world was at her fingertips, that she had the power to get whatever she wanted from another person just because of how she looked. She of course would never only rely on her looks, because without her talent for plucking peoples strings she wouldn't get any further.
No Jamie was pure talent and beauty. A deadly combination.
The eye of the beholder has a name: Jamie Carville.
She is known to be manipulative, to be self serving and to do what is in her best interest, and her best interest alone. To get the results she wants she has gathered many tricks over the years, some more ethical than others and most of them very effective. One of these tricks is to use other peoples observations against them.
Jamie has always known how to tug at peoples heartstrings, how to flutter her eyelids just right to get that extra sweet, or how to flash a smile so bright her victim doesn't stand a chance at giving her a wrong answer. However Jamie had easily figured out that these things were a lot easier to do because she was pretty, it didn't make any sense to her that just because she had certain aesthetics that others found pleasing that some practically did whatever she asked. But she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
After her realisation she leaned into it heavily, she had always had an eye for fashion but she started making sure that not a single piece of clothing was out of place. She made sure to keep up with the recent trends and to never, ever wear anything that could be even remotely considered unflattering. Not that she would want to wear those articles in the first place but it helped to be aware of what the world was appreciating.
She also got very skilled in the art of make-up, teaching herself how to do practically every style under the sun. She personally preferred to have a more neutral look, one that made others think she wasn't actually wearing any, as it seemed to gather the best reactions overall, but she also loved doing more bold looks. And if she had a specific person in mind that she wanted something from she would catalogue what would get her the best reaction, sticking to that particular style until she got what she wanted.
She knew that even if she didn't do her make-up or dressed slightly more dishevelled that she would likely still get a similar reaction, she was beauty incarnate after all, but she also loved it. She loved seeing what she could do with the things at her disposal, turning an usually ugly outfit into something royalty could wear or practising new eye shadow techniques in the mirror for hours on end. It calmed her, knowing that the world was at her fingertips, that she had the power to get whatever she wanted from another person just because of how she looked. She of course would never only rely on her looks, because without her talent for plucking peoples strings she wouldn't get any further.
No Jamie was pure talent and beauty. A deadly combination.
APPROVED - 5th July , Sako
| sta • 7 | eva • 8 | str • 10 A certain darkness is needed wis • 5 | arc • 1 | acc • 14 | Eva. Man. | Charmer | Fearless To be able to see the stars ability | ability | ability |