Ability applications iNPC

As far as Cinder was aware, there were three things that her family, the Blaze’s, were known for. They were:
1. Bright ginger hair. Although, there were a few exceptions for this, such as Cinder’s much younger relative, who, even as a young child, had thick silvery blonde hair.
2. Dragons, and adventure.
3. In regards to the previous point, they were known for being fearless.

Many people thought that after Cinder’s injury from a dragon, the one that sparked her first instance of magic, had sparked something else. Fear. But, in fact, that incident made Cinder appreciate dragons even more, respecting their power and danger. So, Cinder wasn’t scared of dragons.
Heights had never been a problem for her - she was an avid quidditch player, and occasionally clambered onto her bedroom roof to watch the dragons. So height wasn’t her fear.
Spiders, and all insects, while she didn’t like them as much as dragons and lizards, were fine. She often had to feed insects to Sunflower, her lizard, which made her squeamish uncle very happy. She wasn’t scared of any animal, actually, even ones that terrified most people.
Water, and the sea, were a constant factor in her life. She liked sitting on the beach, and swimming when it was warm.
Death… well that was more complicated. Considering that her mum died when she was born, she was surprisingly unfazed by death. And it wasn’t that she believed in life after death either. Death just appeared… inconvenient.

That was all the common fears she could think of, so while she lay underneath a tree in her garden, listening to the distant sounds of her grandma feeding the dragons, a smile appeared across her face. Maybe she needed to think of more obscure fears.
People seeing her scars? Well, as much as she disliked taking her eyepatch off in public, she took it off each night in her dorm room, in front of unnamed, gossipy girls. And, she took it off for quidditch.
Making mistakes in speaking French? Well, that happened to her nearly every day, and she just glared at anyone who looked like they might laugh.
Her father coming back would be… awkward, particularly as she had no idea who he was, but that was extremely unlikely, and she would just take that as it came, if it ever happened.

Just at that point, Cinder heard a call from inside, so stood up, and started walking, glad she had decided one thing: she was fearless.

Rules? You think Shion heard of rules before? How naive of you! Rules don't apply to that girl by any means, in her opinion, if she doesn't get caught, then she didn't break the rules. She once read about a muggle concept called "the observer effect" in quantum mechanics, somehow if a matter is not being observed, then it exists in all stats as a wave of possibilities, and she compared her rule breaking to it, if you don't see it, then it might not exist, and you can't judge her on what ifs, can you now?

And that's how she was banned from reading muggle books, in fact, half bloods in the family are now not allowed to bring muggle things anywhere near the main house, especially near Shion. Did that stop her from stealing some books, no, but catch her if you can, she walks as light as a feather, makes up lies in a matter of seconds, and has plan A, B, C, D, and possibly E and F if need be.

She doesn't break rules just for fun, not for funny pranks for example, she breaks them because they inconvenience her one way or another, she doesn't understand why there are so many social norms and rules, can't everyone just do what they want as long as they are not hurting another person or wronging them? She is also moderately lazy if something doesn't catch her attention, so don't expect her to change clothes just because it's time for bed, or wear a certain color because it's the dress code, it's not the end of the wold if she does what she wants, so why follow rules that don't make sense.

After breaking rules so many times, obviously she is at least good at it, no one breaks rules so confidently unless they know they can get away with it, she's not stupid, just self-interested. One of her most frequently occurring rule breaks is smuggling things, she once smuggled a family of frogs that she kept feeding and taking care of without getting caught for a few months, it wasn't until May that she got caught—because the tadpoles had started becoming full grown frogs—and that was only after the house was filled with runaway frogs, when they found the source they wanted to get rid of them, but Shion stopped them so they realized it was all her doing, they weren't surprised.

Another is during playing games, for some reason she keeps wining most of the games, how? They don't know, but everyone is sure she is cheating in some way, the problem is they don't know the way. Well, the key is showing them what they expect, you expect her to take that card you have? She will take it and get caught on purpose while actually taking a different card or cheating in a whole other way, people tend to overestimate their powers, they will think "I was smart enough to catch her", so they won't look for anything more, they already caught her, and she obviously wasn't trying to get caught, right?

So Shion relies on other's overconfidence and her skills to get away with things, yes she gets caught sometimes, no one is immune, but "no risk no fun" might as well be her life slogan, cause she will do whatever she wants whenever she wants, and if she gets caught, she'll make the consequences regret befalling her out of all people.

Despite being a Dhampir, Raphael was considered to be extremely beautiful. His blond hair was always shiny, his eyes were that perfect shade of blue, the kind that was both kind yet piercing, as if you were staring into the sky. His other facial features were also sharp which all together with how his hair and the fact he didn't interact with people much, gave him a rather mysterious and alluring aura. It was as if you knew something was wrong but at the same time you just couldn't take your eyes off him.

He had wondered for multiple years where his looks came from. Compared to him, his parents were rather average. Granted they were still beautiful but not to the same caliber as him. One day he was roaming his home when he found her portrait. His grandmother. At this point he had never actually met his grandmother or if he did, he was too young to remember. She had the same blond hair he did and while her eyes were red and not blue the resemblance was uncanny.

When he asked his father about it, his father wrote out a small snippet about Raphael's grandparents. Before they were married, his grandmother was considered to be one of the most beautiful noble women in the area. Despite the fact she was in fact a vampire, she was often mistaken to be a Veela instead. Seemingly, those looks had passed down to her grandson Raphael now.

Raphael didn't enjoy the fact he was naturally quite beautiful. It was a pain and brought too much unwanted attention to him. Whenever he went for any social event, there would be flocks of people coming near him to compliment his appearance. While he could never hear what they said, he had a mild understanding of his situation. They were complimenting him. It was too much for him to handle. He hated being around unfamiliar people and hated the fact that just because of his looks he couldn't be left alone.

He does his best to not draw attention but sometimes it can't be helped. He just wanted to focus on his herbology and potion making. He often refers to his looks as a mere inconvenience to his craft and wishes he could just switch it off. Perhaps one day in the future he would embrace the fact he was such a lovely creature. But until then, it would be nothing more than another bother in his life.

Sometimes laughter was the best medicine.

Cyrus would know, after all. When he was five, his mother drove up to Lake Placid to visit him with his aunt and uncle. It was a few weeks before she died. He’d been so excited to show her that he could ride a bicycle – well, kind of. His stubby little fingers had wrapped around the handlebars, and he’d kicked off, gleefully giggling as the bike picked up speed down a hill. Unfortunately, he hadn’t realised that he could brake, and he ended up falling off the bike when he put his feet down to try to stop. His knees had scraped against the asphalt, blood staining his tanned skin, and he’d started to cry. Hunched over on the street, he was in no state to try to crawl up the hill.

Fortunately for him, his mother barrelled down. It was the fastest he’d seen her run. ‘Mommy!’ he’d huffed between puffs of breath, salty tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks. ‘Mommy, it hurts.’

Aurelie had hefted little Cyrus into her arms, for once not caring about the blood dirtying her nice trousers. She’d lifted Cyrus up the hill, leaving the bike forgotten behind them. Eventually, Cyrus’s sobs softened into sniffles, a process made quicker by the fact that his mother kept whispering the worst jokes ever into his ear. Eventually, the sniffles turned into snickers, and he slumped against his mother’s shoulder, content to let her put some band-aids on his knees.

And then she died.

Despite the Aurelie-shaped hole in his life, Cyrus would remember bits and pieces. That it was important to be the light in someone’s life. That creativity, in all forms, was a good thing. That one couldn’t forget to smile once a day. That the chicken crossed the road to get to the other side.

It was his life mission, after that, to make others happy. That would extend to his friends and family, but also to strangers. Sometimes it didn’t work as well as he’d like, but he figured that even being a kind of weird dude couldn’t be worse than being a downer on someone’s happy day. He cracked jokes while attempting to teach Raizel Voltrouz how to fight, while in a vampire’s tomb of doom, and even after getting punched in the face. Sometimes the jokes absolutely sucked – just because he tried didn’t mean he actually was funny. But sometimes even the sad attempt caused a smile and lightened an otherwise horrible situation.

The thing was, being a light in the darkness could help others find a way out of that darkness. It didn’t have to fix it right then and there, but it could help, in its own way. Even that lightness could sometimes help people feel better – and Cyrus’s life mission was, after all, to make people happy. Maybe that was the first step.

Positive qualities should only be said if it comes from someone else. Things can be controlled. If need to - remove yourself from the situation. A lot of Sara's decisions growing up has been overtly reliant on another's reaction, expression, and feelings. Growing up with an unsettling face [ Terrible Presence ], he had learned that a life where he just kept out of someone's way was impossible. In a room, he is the one making people tense. When something goes wrong, a finger would be pointed at him. He looked untrustworthy. Trouble. Suspicious. Sara attempts to shrink himself the best he could, pushing his own desire for connection aside for the comfort of the mass.

That meant he grew up with heightened senses. How did a tone change? What expression faltered? He then learned to read actions. Why did they walk this direction, instead of the other? What face did they make looking at a particular thing? Sara told himself for so long all this observing was just to know to not make others angry or unsettled by him, but really - it was a way to feed his desire to connect with others. Getting to know them, learning their likes and dislikes - holding out for a small chance that someone - anyone - could accept him and his innate faults. Even if his anxiety held him back from getting too close.

Weirdly enough, it was a charming fellow that was the total opposite of Sara that ended up being that person.

Ginyami Midorimori [Charmer] was a confusing character. He looked like he hated Sara from the moment they met. Even stating awful things about Sara. But then suddenly gifting him kittens and renting out an amusement park, and confessing he wanted to be his friend. Going as far as expanding his parents small cafe, and opening a cat cafe knowing Sara loved them. Taunts and confusion aside, Ginyami was still nothing like Sara - he was confident, charismatic - a perfect image of what a well-off pureblood is expected to be. Yet he had shown so many different faces to Sara, and everyone else.

Before Sara knew it, he had already started instinctively paying attention to Ginyami. The one with many masks. Ambitions but not overtly predictable. Kind… wrapped under many protective folds that makes others get pissed at him first before grateful. Seemingly going through many mental loops to be perceived a certain way, for his own motivations. Different.

Ginyami points out sometimes that Sara is attentive - always paying attention to others the best he can, and noticing things others didn't. The similarity surprised Sara, feeling undeserving of such description. Ginyami was at least doing something with his own attentiveness - Sara only hid. Still, Sara didn't dare to tell himself he had a good understanding of his friend -or anyone really. 'Positive qualities should only be said if it comes from someone else'. Yet he couldn’t even do that. That's just the fate of someone that couldn't see past his flaws. If you don’t believe something about yourself, it won’t matter if 1000 people told him the same thing Ginyami did.

It took dating that same friend, getting his heart shattered once or twice, and ending their childhood friend to lovers relationship in a bad sudden break-up - to finally allowed him to realize his own sensitivity as a strength. Long months of pondering what went wrong, what to do, why Ginyami did and said what he did - eventually trusting in his own gut feeling to confront the one with many masks. An action only someone that trusts in what he sensed from Ginyami. Effectively making Ginyami's usual charm - ineffective on him. Instead of looking away from his gifts in sensitivity, he looked finally learned to look straight at them. The gut feeling he pushed aside was now taken note now. He could look back on everything he noticed from Ginyami, and honestly express what he saw. Trusting his sensitivity and instincts. No longer only focused on his flaws.

Though it took many years for Sara to come to acknowledge a strength in his sensitivity to his surroundings and people, coming into adulthood - he's curious to see what he could sense now that he stopping holding himself back. As well as how it will effect his relationship with people, especially the one most important to him.

w/c: 720

Elodie's charm was not deliberate, it was something that developed naturally from how she was raised and the personality she grew into. She spent most of her childhood surrounded by adults instead of children her own age which means she learned early how to hold conversations with people older than herself. Her parents would always tell her to listen when someone is speaking, ask sensible questions, and explain her thoughts properly. As a result, she became comfortable speaking with adults and learned how to hold someone's attention when she has something to say. Her curiosity also plays a big part in this. She asks questions a lot, but also listens to the answers. When someone explains something that is not familiar to her, she remembers small details, and she develops a habit of making others feel heard.

Her father contributed to another part of her charm. Matthijs is reserved and not easily impressed, she learned early on that being loud won't win an argument with her father. Because of that, she became good at using careful wording, dry humour, and expressions to get her point across. She can sit quietly through an entire conversation before making one surprisingly witty observation. Her mother is much more social and talkative, which gives her a different example of how warmth and confidence can draw people in. Elodie's expressive face makes this even more obvious. Her amber-brown eyes, raised eyebrows, cute smiles, and facial expressions reveal what she is thinking before she says anything out loud. She learned that a raised eyebrow can communicate more effectively than an entire explanation. Even when she tries to stay serious, her expressions are very obvious.

Her dry sense of humour also makes people curious about her. She can say something unexpectedly funny in an entirely straight tone, which leaves others unsure if she is joking until they notice the amusement in her expression. Once comfortable, she becomes animated, competitive, and surprisingly playful. Her move to the Netherlands and eventual arrival at Beauxbatons began to place her among children her own age, where these traits have become more noticeable. She may be socially inexperienced, but she is observant, attentive, expressive, and naturally engaging. She also has tendency to become more persuasive when she is interested in something. Her style is not to pressure people, but usually just to show her enthusiasm, ask more questions, and let her confidence show so others will hear her out. Even while explaining something she learned, the way she speaks encourages people to keep listening. She does not consciously attempt to manipulate people or make herself the centre of attention. The combination of composure, curiosity, wit, and expressive manner makes it difficult for people to completely ignore her.

To say that Aryaan enjoyed sports would be an understatement. Be it quidditch or broom racing, soccer or kabaddi, there was a thrill in being fully engaged in the moment, in feeling the sweat on the skin and the drumming of the heart. In being pushed so much to the limit that all conscious thought slips away, leaving behind only pure, concentrated, unadulterated instinct.

It had always been a core trait of his, the reason he had gone toe-to-toe with people much older than him, be it within Quidditch or without. And when you're facing people bigger than you are, every little advantage could tip the scales in your favor. The biggest, for him, had always been not to be where they expected. Leaning in, drawing in attention, and then skirting out of the way of trouble once the spotlight was squarely on him. It was the strategy he and Sara Kohana had used together to great effect in the Hexwizard tournament in his younger days, and the tactic he defaulted to in Quidditch (with his old moontrimmer). And it was great. It got the job done; it gave his team the breathing room to go do the things they wanted to do. But most importantly, it gave him enough to keep him occupied and drive him to the limits, be it sneakily grabbing the snitch when no one was looking, or openly bracing, drawing the attention of the blatchers and beaters to give the Chasers more room to play.

It was interesting, and fun. Or at least, it had been, in the beginning. But then he started getting good at it. Waiting. Feeling. Drawing the eyes. Lingering. And then swerving out of danger at the very last possible moment, laughing about it all the while. But then, he got a little too good at it. And it became boring. So he did the only sane thing he could think of: he removed the training wheels. He stopped using the Moontrimmer, which was a nifty little whiz in the air for a more boring broom. He stopped playing the nimble scorer and moved to more aggressive roles.

He had thought that making himself worse would game more fun.

It just made him better instead. Sharper in the air, smoother with his shifts mid-flight, and harder than ever to actually knock out of the sky, even as he played more dangerously than ever

Though he would never admit it, or even think about it unless you forced him to, every place Aryaan had ever thought to call home had been loud, but Europe was interesting because it was so different from his other homes.

Kolkata had been loud with human insistence; the noise of horns, arguments, and a million lives refusing to make room for one another. Chittagong had been loud with the sound of work, from ship-horns from the port to heavy engines unloading cargo. Hong Kong had been loud from every direction at once. Rail announcements below, air-conditioners overhead, traffic trapped between towers until even a footstep came back multiplied. Kuala Lumpur had not shouted like Hong Kong, but the sound of trains beneath towers, and traffic beneath flyovers had stayed with him. And Tokyo, his most recent home, had been loud with order, be it chimes telling people where to stand, crossings telling them when to walk, voices from machines ensuring that even the chaos kept perfect time.

But Beauxbatons and France were loud with beauty. Every corridor glittered, chimed, murmured, and expected him to understand. And Aryaan saw all of it, without so much as stopping to think. He was too busy wondering if he could Weasel his way onto the Quidditch team (he remembered Kit Felix, who was super cool and about his level in skill several years back). He was distracted wondering if his mother would give him grief about the whole botched transfiguration thing (probably would, but he hadn't even blown something up this time. The adults were far too uptight about the outcome of something and not the thing itself), and being anywhere and everywhere, as long as it was also in his own head.

Maybe that was how he ended up in the one seat at the back of the entrance hall nobody else wanted. Half in shadow. Comfortable. Whatever.

He didn't notice he was noticing things. That was sort of the whole deal, wasn't it? Somewhere behind idle thoughts and absurd ramblings, some other part of him was doing its own thing. Who walked next to who. Who went quiet the second a professor's robes swished by, and who absolutely did not care. How people held their forks here. What rhythm a sentence needed before it stopped sounding foreign coming out of his mouth. It was all natural, of course, and surely everyone noticed the way he noticed. People just didn't bother remembering, or chose to act despite seeing.

But then perhaps it was not something that you went around advertising. When he had casually noted that two of the upper years who had left dinner soon after one another were likely sneaking off to get some "quality time together", he had gotten odd looks a quiet, curly-haired boy named @Alejandros Espinosa (when it later came out that Alejandros was a duellist, Aryaan prompty started calling the boy Don Jandro. It suited the kid, if Aryaan did say so Himself). But clearly, such observations were meant to be noted and kept quiet. Because, uh. European politeness, maybe?

By the time anyone got around to asking how the new kid from Japan had settled in so fast, Aryaan had already forgotten he'd been watching at all. He was just there. Barely noticed. Already one of them.

Anyway. Had anyone seen where the football guys went? He really needed to give someone an earful about the latest match.

Ever since the dawn of the newly-dubbed Alptraum girl’s memory, Remedy was raised to believe that fear was a useless emotion.

Admittedly, the young, pubescent Norden heiress did not quite make sense of this way of thinking for the greater part of her childhood. It wasn’t until her formerly unschooled and uncomprehending gaze realized just how under scrutiny her family had been growing up. The Vipress’ parents would be ultimately to blame for Remedy’s naivety—having curated a comfortable childhood devoid of strife stemming from the Norden-Leveret political turmoil.

Once so sheltered and blankly innocent, as the Norden heiress aged, so did her insatiable curiosity alongside her.

Eventually, Remedy’s own inquisitiveness unveiled the cracks in her parents’ tediously constructed facade. Scurrilous details of her aunt Cadence Leveret’s tribulating legal battle remained unclear to the Norden progeny, yet the Vipress couldn’t help but to admire her family’s adept crisis management that had aided their return to prominence within wizarding society. Despite the cataclysm they had endured, not once did Remedy witness a single member of the Norden genealogy falter, hesitate, or stray from being absolutely extraordinary. It was as though fear was absent in their psychological makeup.

Looking to emulate this, the Vipress turned to none other that the Norden matriach herself—Ordelia Norden. Remedy’s grandmother was a remarkable woman of supreme, chilling confidence and an ironclad composition—it was she whom the young Norden witch aimed to embody most in her adolescence before her schooling at Hogwarts.

Through Ordelia, the Norden witch learned that true power and control began in the mind. Fear was merely a weakness belonging to lesser minds, and to have absolute control of one’s own destiny, all vestiges of fear required expunging.

To be fearless is to have unshakeable conviction of one’s own superiority, and it was that moment where the Vipress’ indomitable, iron-willed psyche birthed.

Quite some time had passed since those teachings were first embedded into the deep recesses of the Norden witch’s cerebrum, though it was the summer before Remedy’s third year amid her aunt Cadence’s gala that would be the unfortunate night when Ordelia’s teachings came to the ultimate test.

By an unknown assailant, the gluing spell—a second-year spell once so mundane and banal to the now-former Slytherin—would be the fatal cause of her mother’s passing. Whilst gazing upon the lifeless body of Hyacinth, devoid of tears and paralysis was she. When her mother’s lifeless yet piercing gaze stared upon the Vipress in cold death’s embrace, Remedy did not look away, crumble, nor falter from her cold, calculating demeanor.

Though some could easily sum this unshakable composure to merely a state of shock upon losing a parent both so suddenly and violently, the Norden heiress knew well enough than to stray from having complete control of her emotions. It wasn’t that the Vipress wasn’t completely devastated at the loss—she was simply too numb to feel anything more than a hollowness inside coupled with the internal voice of her grandmother reminding her that fear was an inefficiency that true Nordens wasted no energy upon.

**Linking this reindex application for any potential questions or concerns regarding Remedy's mother's death.**