Is not blood merely a fact? Lineage merely an invisible standard to live up to? Is not family something you have to choose over and over for it to mean anything? Blood stains more than anyone cares to admit. It smells like the metal used to shed it. Must we always stand in shadows of relatives in our loved ones eyes? Must I have the same shadow as my father, in my mother's mind?

Maternal Grandmother: Ermessenda Masdevall-Argelich
Maternal Grandfather: Arnau Coromines-Raventós
Ermessenda {Ema} and Arnau had six children, five girls and a single boy. Rhea always remembered them as 'the fun grandparents', though not with partiality. Both are from lesser known pure blood families from Spain, and got married when they were nineteen, having their first child, Mar, when they were both 21.

Paternal Grandmother: Aloma Alsius-Cucurella
Paternal Grandfather: Oriol Serra-Bofill
Aloma and Oriol were more of the silent type, raising Aniol with a quiet type of love and correction, giving him thoughts and tidbits rather than game nights and fun social experiences. Back when Aniol was three, he had a baby brother {Narcís} that sadly passed away soon after being born, only prompting further solitude within the family.

Klavdiya and Artyom had played a game when they were younger. It was a rather simple game, with loose rules and even looser events. Sometimes, they were tracking down animals in the forest so poachers couldn’t find them, or exploring a forgotten watch tower. But one thing always stayed the same; the setting. The two siblings had always shared a rather similar mindset and imagination, so it was not hard at all to envision their military camp. It was similar to a courtyard, with four walls and a tower at each corner. There was a fountain in the middle that was relatively non-functional, but pretty nonetheless. There was a vast forest surrounding their millitary camp, with a small train station merely a few strides away, though concealed. Certain details changed in each of their minds from time to time, but they went outside for hours, just pretending to be in this world they created from pure imagination. Everytime their parents called them in, they would pretend to be stepping on a deep red locomotive, heading back home and pretending small slips of paper in their pockets were tickets.

𝟏. 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗦' 𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗘
𝟐. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘
𝟑. 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐒
𝟒. 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒
𝟓. 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒
𝟔. 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐅𝐅

Date of Birth; Eleven Half-Breed;

December 24, 20XX ;Age 1/4-Giant

Klavdiya Vsevolodovna Volkova was born to Vsevolod and Vera on the twenty-fourth of December in 20XX. It was a bright, snowy day in their part of Russia, the beautiful morning only being tainted by the shrill cries of another life entering the lonely, lonely world. Klavdiya brought great joy into the previously bleak life of her mother, a child so happy in her entirety her joy could not help but to be contagious to all those around her, if only her parents.
The first years of her life were spent as almost all are, learning life, love, and laughter. When she was in the later months of being one, she was introduced to the concept of siblings. Little Artyom was brought into the world in July, making Klava's life infinitely more interesting. Once Klavdiya was six, and Artyom was five, they were allowed to explore the forest near their house on their own. Never allowed to stray too far, no, but enough to allow a sense of freedom. That was when the towers were formed. Their little imaginary land was the setting to most of Klavdiya's childhood. Their father, Vsevolod is a lesser known wand maker, often travelling to procure the materials needed to craft wands. He often made wands with a focus on design, a skilled woodcarver before he took up wand crafting. Pure blood families were his most re-current buyers, wanting something with fine craftsmanship. He wasn't home most of the time, but when he was it was always an evening or afternoon full of laughter. Vera, on the other hand, was home all the time, looking after Klavdiya and Artyom, homeschooling them in all they needed to know.

She is a kind woman, with a proud, though nurturing nature. Vera is a half-giantess, her mother {Klava's Grandmother} being a giantess. Klava grew up unawares of prejudices against half-breeds {or 1/4, in her case}, not knowing anything of the greater world save for anything Vera mentioned in her lessons, or what she heard from eavesdropping on Vsevolod in the evenings when she was supposed to be sleeping.

Though being a rather felicitous child, Klava still inherited some personality traits from her maternal side, including her temper and not being prone to patience. When she was seven, Klavdiya was outside with her Papa and Artyom, going ice fishing, as they did every winter, though this was only the second time their Papa had brought Klava, and the first time Artyom had come along.
“Papa, why does the ice have to be so thick?” Despite it being a generally short process, even more so with magic, Klava had not yet at that point learned the value of patience.
“Klava, have patience, it will only be a few moments more.” Vsevolod was a kind man, often away, but always present when he was home.
They had already had a late start to their day, and Klava had not really wanted to go in the first place, though she had warmed to the idea after a bit. Hence, the annoyance, impatience, and altogether immaturity of a seven year old who is cold and bored.
“This is so boring!” Klava stamped her foot in her moment of anger, the ice fracturing and caving in where they were already drilling.
“Klavdiya!” His voice was sharp, chastising. “You cannot-. You cannot let your emotions get the best of you like that. You could have broken the ice and drowned us all.”
Klavdiya was used to being chastised, but rarely by her father, shame coloring her face. “Sorry, papa. But on the bright side we don’t have to wait any longer!” It seemed she still had yet to learn her lesson.
Vsevolod sighed, ruffling her hair. “What am I to do with you? Please, be careful Klava.”