Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Opeila Winters
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Restricted Charms
Proof of Eligibility:Reducio
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
When Opeila first set foot into Hogwarts and attended her first classes, it became clear quite quickly where her strengths were. It seemed that the young girl took after her grandmother in more than just her house and seer powers. She had hated flying and potions from the first lesson and lost interest in astronomy soon as well, but Opeila had always been a quick learner when it came to spells, charms in particular. Those never seemed particularly hard anyway, the much bigger challenge was memorizing them.
Over the years the Slytherin had filled several notebooks with the charms she found most handy, sketches of wand movements and more. For the first couple of years, excelling in Charms class had been good enough for her. The admiration she had received for her duelling skills in combination with her straight Os in both Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts and then her promotion to prefect made her feel like she was flying on some cloud, truly part of the popular group of students at Hogwarts.
And then... then she found herself too stressed studying for her O.W.L.s to continue duelling. Then her guardians wrote to her head of house, asking for her prefect badge to be taken away. Her relationship with Aaron ended. Everything that had made her heart feel so full slipped through her fingers like air and suddenly she felt empty.
For a few months, Opeila didn't know what to do with herself, she hadn't felt this purposeless in years. No patrols to do, no duelling training- although she sometimes found herself automatically walking down the corridors she used to patrol when she was distracted- so what was left? She found herself in a new relationship much quicker than she expected, but... that was not enough.
While that was not enough, Opeila's new project was inspired by her new boyfriend however. Back in fifth year, the two of them had met in the library and attempted to create a spell together and now... Opeila had a whole list of useful charms in her head that only waited to be created. The two of them had not be successful back then, but maybe the knowledge of two fifth years was just not enough for such a big project?
In her sixth year, Opeila could be found in the library more and more, reading and learning whatever she could about charms and eventually she moved beyond the open section of the library. No, she had not managed to create one of her own yet, but she had learned a couple of new charms instead.
... She was not surprised at all that those were not taught in class.
Approved, Octavius Baird (6/16/2025)
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Trunk
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist (Please link this to Y1)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Seven Minutes is all I can spare to grade your HW.
[ sta ] 10 [ eva ] 15 [ str ] 01 [ wis ] 20 [ arc ] 10 [ acc ] 14
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist (Please link this to Y1)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
At the age of eleven, Samuel had already divested himself of the frivolities and sloppiness that which plagued the majority of his peers. While they scrambled to grasp the basics of chanting or mangled their wand motions childishly.
Samuel treated spellcasting as one would treat a surgical procedure. His actions were precise, measured and entirely devoid of theatricality. From the beginning, it was evident how he regarded magic not just as a playground of childish whims but a system of laws to be mastered and obeyed.
The trait of being a perfectionist suited him, it was built within him from the start, not merely by temperament but necessity. He could not tolerate failure, not in others and certainly not in himself. His enunciation was exact. His volume, never too loud and never too soft. The movement of his wand were fluid but sharply defined, as if each spell had been rehearsed a few hundred times in private before ever performing it in class. When most first years grinned sheepishly through accidental backfires or lopsided jinxes. Samuel offered only a slight narrow set of eyes. A silent condemnation for his lack of skill and immediately dove head first towards improvement. There was no room for errors. Not in the work and certainly not in him.
The others noticed it, not always with admiration but Samuel never sought or accepted such trivialities. But he was already aware of how we was different. Teachers praised his results and frankly did not know enough to comment on his demeanor. Samuel regarded unpredictability as a form of incompetence. He practiced until the margin for error was zero for him. There was something clinical about the way he approached a wand. Similar to his father's approach towards his laboratory equipment. Samuel's relationship with his wand was pretty straightforward. He didn't consider it a toy or a symbol. No, he only treated it as a tool. It required discipline, control and unerring attention to detail. Those waving their wands carelessly or slurred their incantations received from him a look of quiet and exhausted contempt. It was like witnessing monkeys struggle to tie shoes.
This obsession of his with perfection wasn't rooted in arrogance, though most would mistake it for such. But instead, it was rooted in necessity. Failure was not just embarrassing but dangerous. When poorly executed, invited chaos. For Samuel, Chaos was unacceptable. By this age, Samuel had already internalized a truth; magic was indifferent. It obeyed exactitude and punishes vagueness. In this he found something to admire and thus held himself to a standard far beyond his years.
Samuel treated spellcasting as one would treat a surgical procedure. His actions were precise, measured and entirely devoid of theatricality. From the beginning, it was evident how he regarded magic not just as a playground of childish whims but a system of laws to be mastered and obeyed.
The trait of being a perfectionist suited him, it was built within him from the start, not merely by temperament but necessity. He could not tolerate failure, not in others and certainly not in himself. His enunciation was exact. His volume, never too loud and never too soft. The movement of his wand were fluid but sharply defined, as if each spell had been rehearsed a few hundred times in private before ever performing it in class. When most first years grinned sheepishly through accidental backfires or lopsided jinxes. Samuel offered only a slight narrow set of eyes. A silent condemnation for his lack of skill and immediately dove head first towards improvement. There was no room for errors. Not in the work and certainly not in him.
The others noticed it, not always with admiration but Samuel never sought or accepted such trivialities. But he was already aware of how we was different. Teachers praised his results and frankly did not know enough to comment on his demeanor. Samuel regarded unpredictability as a form of incompetence. He practiced until the margin for error was zero for him. There was something clinical about the way he approached a wand. Similar to his father's approach towards his laboratory equipment. Samuel's relationship with his wand was pretty straightforward. He didn't consider it a toy or a symbol. No, he only treated it as a tool. It required discipline, control and unerring attention to detail. Those waving their wands carelessly or slurred their incantations received from him a look of quiet and exhausted contempt. It was like witnessing monkeys struggle to tie shoes.
This obsession of his with perfection wasn't rooted in arrogance, though most would mistake it for such. But instead, it was rooted in necessity. Failure was not just embarrassing but dangerous. When poorly executed, invited chaos. For Samuel, Chaos was unacceptable. By this age, Samuel had already internalized a truth; magic was indifferent. It obeyed exactitude and punishes vagueness. In this he found something to admire and thus held himself to a standard far beyond his years.
WC:433
Approved, Octavius Baird (6/16/2025)
Seven Minutes is all I can spare to grade your HW.
[ sta ] 10 [ eva ] 15 [ str ] 01 [ wis ] 20 [ arc ] 10 [ acc ] 14
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: [the dutiful heir.]
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Occlumency (7th year)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):ReducioInfamously reticent and wildly untouched by Hogwarts' distractions, many of Astrea's waking hours have been spent in an endless pursuit towards success. Though the wizarding world often lagged in technological advancements, modernisation’s slow pull had nonetheless complicated all but the most traditional of her future social prospects. Left further and further behind (albeit gladly so and often by her own volition), it had been obvious for her to take the less-travelled path out of general society and into mild hermeticism. Remaining safely separate from the fluctuating troubles of her peers suited her far better than needless conversation and frightful familiarity. As ever the dutiful heir, why should she concern herself with the issues of strangers? Friend fallouts, family troubles and disastrous social events all seemed to follow her classmates. Was there any benefit to remaining tangentially relevant to a junior wizarding society that aimed to murder its kin at every opportunity? She had received nothing worthwhile from her brief time engaging in such nonsense. No, her time was better spent in inexhaustible revision and politer company, drowning threats of weed-like weakness with greater ambitions. It was not mere perfectionism that drove her, but the prospect of magic itself in undeniable harmony, which, when held sacred and manipulated thusly, proved stronger still than the loathed fallibility of instinct.
Yet her experiences as a long-standing duellist had made it clear that targeted spellwork could not convey much more than professional orchestration. Her buoyed duelling record and perfected grade book remained only shallow shreds of evidence of her lifelong walk towards greater understanding. Clear from all of Astrea's time spent upon Hogwarts' cursed campus, only the inevitable truth of honed skill had the potential to protect her as no other measure could. Carefully held acquaintanceships and muggle-like seclusion could only go so far in an adult world that could manipulate memory like any physical substance. Especially considering her ambitions towards a Ministry position, the threat of exposure—the mere existence of veritaserum—threatened her nerves more than she'd ever admit. Nothing less than true occlumency could protect her where reputation could not, returning order to chaos within even her subconscious mind.
It was no great burden to announce the issue first to her finishing governess, her mother, and finally to her father. Though subject to Lord Neptune's familiarly met and rarely-earned scrutiny, Astrea often desired little and was content with plenty considering her position of privilege. It was strange for her to voice concerns, stranger still for them to be so immediately demanding, yet granting this one request cost comparatively little to the disastrous repercussions of intentional ignorance.
Xìngyùn Laoshi, one of the few skilled Legilimens the Four Bloodlines had the pleasure of knowing, came to her aid in the summer of her seventh year. An older woman of few indulgences and an alarmingly clever gift for peering past Astrea's many walls, her tutor's no-nonsense and traditionalist attitude struck a familiar chord in the disciplined Slytherin. If not for her impatience for explanation and obvious disregard for her peers, perhaps she could have seen something of her future in the other. Astrea thrived in the structured etiquette of their initial lessons, where compartmentalising her emotions and clearing her mind met her natural predisposition to neutrality.
Yet despite early success, deeper study into true occlumency proved comparatively unproductive. Her entire academic career, spellwork had been a trial and error of incantation and magical materialism— this, however, proved a different beast altogether. The typical memory-warping gambits of historical curriculum chafed against even the barest of Astrea's defences, where the mild mutability of courtesy stretched too long and dark for her to fortify. Abstraction, the muse of frustration itself, became her greatest enemy.
It was as undeniable as it was predictable: Astrea found it exceedingly difficult to induce change. As a beacon of immovable, undeniable anachronism, it was no surprise that her greatest challenge was letting go of the strict truth and feigning false memories. Of her fondest moments, which she truthfully had few of, she had mulled over their every detail like a yearning moth to light. Every aspect of heartache lay enshrined, from the sweetest treats to the richest indulgences, if only to commemorate what she had once had. Loss followed Astrea like a loyal beast, taking with it every yearning gap of contentment as a due sacrifice. She lacked neither experience nor potential, but something far less attainable—imagination. For this reason, despite her best efforts, she had never been able to cast a corporeal Patronus. Haunted by the looming inevitability of isolated equilibrium, no single memory could pull forth such coveted power.
Astrea's previous excellence suddenly seemed out of reach. Long hours spent studying turned into months of fruitless incapability, her academic duties piling atop each other as her only refuge from complete despair. As her utter lack of companionship became increasingly clear, Astrea found herself wholly victimised by disappointment. As the months dragged on, much to her eternal mortification, even that had transformed into open pity.
It was inevitable that she'd realise a change in their dynamics amidst the widened cracks of her mental fortitude, but even inevitability could not soften the impact of condescension. Pity. How utterly debasing. The mere realisation of it had been so fantastically and bewilderingly foreign that Astrea had unceremoniously banished the other from her head, fuelled more by complete scandalization over appropriate will. She had experienced nearly a year's worth of intrusion, yet the quiet bleed of misplaced compassion had struck sharper than expected. It had shocked her into maladaptation, her subconscious abruptly closed off in favour of unexplored instinct. When Astrea had shaken the disorientation of unnatural success, her tutor had long composed herself. She, in stark contrast, could not reclaim the same ease of mind. The silken thread of hesitation had been duly identified, yet only at an indescribable cost. If the indignity of mere acknowledgement drew uninvited sympathy, then her reputation was in direr straits than she had initially anticipated. Threatened by such affectation, for no other term suited her otherwise professional relationship with the Xìngyùn matron, she could not bear to continue as she once had. The rote rebuttals of her normal academia could not serve her as they often did. When her greatest sliver of success was borne out of little more than deep discomfort, it was not that she could not permit it— Astrea simply would not. Slytherin though she proudly was, she had never been one for outright deceit. Since youth, she had stared so squarely into the truth of existence that she had long crossed into ideological orthodoxy. But if she could neither seize nor suffer the losses of longing, perhaps occlumency allowed for an alternative path forward.
Her journey towards adeptness promised to involve more than simple trickery. More so guided rather than truly schooled by her tutor, she moved to reluctantly accept change if only to navigate it within gentler waters. Behind the idle musings of a well-worn memory lay the core of all human suffering: longing. As such, if Astrea could not fabricate truly non-existent alternatives, the only other alternative was to take such memories and strangle significance out of them. For her, occlumency did not serve as a weaving manipulation but as a frequently brandished shield. If empty sentiments were to be her trap and weapon, she'd obscure every gilded scabbard before striking. Ripostes of plausible deniability, in half-feigned memories bleached of every sentimental stain upon history's fabric, suited her better than the nonsensically branching unrealities of standard occlumency. The forked, winding gallery walk towards adeptness had the same potential to lose others in as any manifested mind palace. Behind the gravitas of selfishly guarded memory stood a defence not of complete deceit but of a forcible apathy that she knew all too well. Each recollection remained technically intact in spirit, yet both sentiment and satisfaction had no place in her studies. If all she needed to do was slow an unknown approach, she could meet it at its root desire. With this, even legilimency could be rendered less than its worth. Nostalgia could haunt her as it so wished, only as long as it kept to its place in complete retrospect.
By the time her mental defences had been deemed relatively siege-sturdy, she stood at the cusp of adulthood. Her methods had been unorthodox, but repeated trials had left her tutor begrudgingly tolerant, if not quietly disapproving, of the terrible, disturbing bleakness that had fallen over Astrea's memories. With a clan pendant in hand and success in the other, the end of her instructions simultaneously opened yet another path forward. Under personal recommendation, if she so wished, the Xìngyùn family estate would be open to her for further study. There, she would be better equipped to explore the merit of duty alongside scholars and her brightest peers amongst the Four Bloodlines Alliance, working to remember it not as an obligatory weight to carry, but as a privilege of authority and of truthful opportunity. It was clear from her studies that true occlumency was not a gifted achievement. It was a lifelong pursuit. Even the most impenetrable mental constructs required upkeep, and Astrea was nothing if not diligent.Word Count: 1532/400
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, June 19
| astrea neptune ... | ... johannes sauer |
| hogwarts wizardry. duellist. | durmstrang. horntail horde. |
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Lovely Creature
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Lily McCoire's inpc
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Lovely Creature
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Alicia Matthews had always been beautiful, even as a baby. Her parents had been proud of their little baby girl. As a baby Alicia's eyes were always twinkling and she was always laughing, making her cheeks a rosy pink that everyone admired. Even as a toddler, her looks were always complimented on. People always said, "She's a beautiful child, you should be so proud." The older Alicia got the more radiant her looks got. Her eyes shined constantly, her lips were always red and a smile was always on them. Her hair became longer and wavy with the blonde that her mother had always loved from her dad. At 11, however, she turned heads whenever she walked into a room. Her pale skin had a glow to it, she had added pink highlights to her blonde hair, adding definition and even started wearing lip gloss to give her lips a little shine to them.
One of her childhoood friends from Italy had come over the summer before she started Durmstrang. They were going to spend the night together. Alicia had gotten everything ready, putting a blanket fort up in her room and setting out snacks and soda. The minute Lana arrived the two girls squeled and hugged each other. They sat down in the fort and spent hours catching up with one another, when Lana finally said, "I'm sure you'll get a lot of boys looking at you when you go to school, with your looks and all."
Alicia gave her a small smile. "What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head a little causing her hair to tumble over her shoulder.
"Oh come on. I know your modest but no one can be that modest. You got to notice how everyone stares when you walk past, or how heads turn when people catch site of you. You're only eleven but as you get older you'll be a heartbreaker." Lana explained with a grin. "And not just with the guys, but with girls too. We're in a time where girls date girls and the ones that identify as lezbian will definitly be watching you."
Alicia tilted her head with a soft smile. "I can't look that good. There are people more better looking than me."
Lana shook her head. "You're right and they are called veela. But you...you're a lovely creature. Everything from your head down to your toes."
After that day, Alicia could never get those words out of her head: "Lovely Creature. "
415/400
One of her childhoood friends from Italy had come over the summer before she started Durmstrang. They were going to spend the night together. Alicia had gotten everything ready, putting a blanket fort up in her room and setting out snacks and soda. The minute Lana arrived the two girls squeled and hugged each other. They sat down in the fort and spent hours catching up with one another, when Lana finally said, "I'm sure you'll get a lot of boys looking at you when you go to school, with your looks and all."
Alicia gave her a small smile. "What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head a little causing her hair to tumble over her shoulder.
"Oh come on. I know your modest but no one can be that modest. You got to notice how everyone stares when you walk past, or how heads turn when people catch site of you. You're only eleven but as you get older you'll be a heartbreaker." Lana explained with a grin. "And not just with the guys, but with girls too. We're in a time where girls date girls and the ones that identify as lezbian will definitly be watching you."
Alicia tilted her head with a soft smile. "I can't look that good. There are people more better looking than me."
Lana shook her head. "You're right and they are called veela. But you...you're a lovely creature. Everything from your head down to your toes."
After that day, Alicia could never get those words out of her head: "Lovely Creature. "
415/400
STATUS: Denied, Ruby, June 19
As a Durmstrang iNPC, this is not the right place for you to apply for this. Please use this thread instead.
Lily McCoire's inpc
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=5846#p99200
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Spell Spread (replacing Prodigal Transfiguration Learner)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Note:
Meenauh Silmataurea | STA: 9 | EVA: 10 | STR: 2 | WIS: 25 | ARC: 13 | ACC: 13
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Spell Spread (replacing Prodigal Transfiguration Learner)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
The fun part of it all — how many students learnt to do it throughout their education. Not only learnt but successfully applied it in duelling. Meenauh, no matter how hard she tried, could not. It was a brain-breaking mystery to her, and she couldn’t crack it.
It was so devastating — learning and perfecting every spell possible, learning to cast without words or wand, but not able to force her mind into the infamous spell splitting. She read books, trying to get it right, getting the essence of it, but it just did not come.
Her best duelling partner, Galton the Glorious, managed it a long time ago, without much of the book reading at all. It was like it was some innate talent that just had to be discovered at some point. It’s been driving Meenauh crazy (even though she did not show it), because it just did not seem possible to her to not be able to learn some sort of magic. Knowledge, feeling, studying, and precision could turn tides, could do the impossible. And for the spell splitting, it just did not work.
Her education was slowly coming to the end, the library was researched up and down. Soon she’ll lose access to the greatest knowledge vault on this planet. And then, she started to think in experiments. She wanted to find out why. And it wasn’t the books, it wasn’t practice. It was the people to research. Even younger students were successfully doing it, when she just couldn’t get a grasp of it.
She made a list of people, who were able to do that. And try to analyse each one. What they liked, what they loved, what they hated. And the only thing she realized they must have had what she generally lacked — complete creative freedom of thought. Meenauh, was too locked on to what she learnt, knowledge as the main power, which glued her reality together.
So whatever it took them to do, she had to open her mind to the new sensations. It was not about learning and not about practising. It was about letting it. Allowing it to just go through.
In a solitary duelling room, where they practised, she waited until everyone left, and looked at the two dummies facing her. Countless times, she tried. Countless attempt to scavenge the intricacies of the skill. And it was all about releasing the grip, rather than making it more tense. The girl closed her eyes and tried to… damn it, it was the hardest thing… she had to ‘un’-concentrate. For others, it might have been the concentration, actually, but as Meenauh was always putting all of herself into concentration, in this exact case, she had to release it.
Her wand raised into the air, it looks as if she was possessed by something. Who could imagine it was how relaxation looked like? The blasting curse incantation shattered the silence in the duelling room, the spell left her wand, aimed for the left dummy, then in midway it split into two… and both dummies were hit with a strong explosion. Their sound kept echoing against the walls of the duelling room, synchronizing with the powerful pounding of her heart. A triumph… after all these years… Finally, she has mastered it with the ways alien to her usual way of thinking and studying. It was a deep feeling of some genuine accomplishment, which she never felt while mastering spells.
WC: 573
It was so devastating — learning and perfecting every spell possible, learning to cast without words or wand, but not able to force her mind into the infamous spell splitting. She read books, trying to get it right, getting the essence of it, but it just did not come.
Her best duelling partner, Galton the Glorious, managed it a long time ago, without much of the book reading at all. It was like it was some innate talent that just had to be discovered at some point. It’s been driving Meenauh crazy (even though she did not show it), because it just did not seem possible to her to not be able to learn some sort of magic. Knowledge, feeling, studying, and precision could turn tides, could do the impossible. And for the spell splitting, it just did not work.
Her education was slowly coming to the end, the library was researched up and down. Soon she’ll lose access to the greatest knowledge vault on this planet. And then, she started to think in experiments. She wanted to find out why. And it wasn’t the books, it wasn’t practice. It was the people to research. Even younger students were successfully doing it, when she just couldn’t get a grasp of it.
She made a list of people, who were able to do that. And try to analyse each one. What they liked, what they loved, what they hated. And the only thing she realized they must have had what she generally lacked — complete creative freedom of thought. Meenauh, was too locked on to what she learnt, knowledge as the main power, which glued her reality together.
So whatever it took them to do, she had to open her mind to the new sensations. It was not about learning and not about practising. It was about letting it. Allowing it to just go through.
In a solitary duelling room, where they practised, she waited until everyone left, and looked at the two dummies facing her. Countless times, she tried. Countless attempt to scavenge the intricacies of the skill. And it was all about releasing the grip, rather than making it more tense. The girl closed her eyes and tried to… damn it, it was the hardest thing… she had to ‘un’-concentrate. For others, it might have been the concentration, actually, but as Meenauh was always putting all of herself into concentration, in this exact case, she had to release it.
Her wand raised into the air, it looks as if she was possessed by something. Who could imagine it was how relaxation looked like? The blasting curse incantation shattered the silence in the duelling room, the spell left her wand, aimed for the left dummy, then in midway it split into two… and both dummies were hit with a strong explosion. Their sound kept echoing against the walls of the duelling room, synchronizing with the powerful pounding of her heart. A triumph… after all these years… Finally, she has mastered it with the ways alien to her usual way of thinking and studying. It was a deep feeling of some genuine accomplishment, which she never felt while mastering spells.
WC: 573
Note:
1. Please, strikethrough the Prodigal Transfiguration Learner ability line (do not delete it, please).
2. Add Spell Spread after Perfectionist II.
3. Add the description similar to others: "I can split my spells to aim at two targets at once."
STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 23 June
Meenauh Silmataurea | STA: 9 | EVA: 10 | STR: 2 | WIS: 25 | ARC: 13 | ACC: 13
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=5846#p99200
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Wandmaker (replacing Prodigal Charms Learner)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Note:
Meenauh Silmataurea | STA: 9 | EVA: 10 | STR: 2 | WIS: 25 | ARC: 13 | ACC: 13
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Wandmaker (replacing Prodigal Charms Learner)
Wand Wood: Walnut
Wand Core: Rougarou Hair
Length: 18.0 cm
Flexibility: Unyielding
Reducio
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Meenauh never ever thought that at any point in her life she would get, or even need, another wand. Her current precious chestnut and unicorn hair was the perfect choice. Or Meenauh was the wand’s perfect choice. The fact that she and Xailah, her best friend, had the same wand — considering how they became friends in the first place — was even a greater mystery. She met more people with the same wood and core, but it wasn’t the same. Who knew that life would surprise her with a gift, or choice, that can fit her even better?
People change. Personalities change. As years go by, Meenauh became more and more locked inside her palace of constant knowledge absorption. It was so deeply intertwined inside every thread of her soul, that it became her only aspiration and her only goal in life. Until the moment when it made no more sense to her. Learning did not bring her any joy. Real joy, like talking to a friend, or coming back to her parents after long weeks of absence. Stockpiling and hoarding every spell possible seemed like a tool, but it just didn’t stand a chance to be a goal.
She remembered that when she was getting closer to her OWLs, and then the fact that they had to research possible career paths, there was nothing like a spell hoarder among the list of professions. Who would value one, anyway? What good could she cause? It was the moment that broke Meenauh how we knew her. She needed a new goal. A big one.
Did she want to be a healer? Did she want to be an auror? How could she know? How could one know for real without trying? Nothing, really nothing among the researched careers sparked any even light flame in her heart. It felt like devastation. As if life had become meaningless. Maybe there was some comfort in dark magic — the area very different from her morals, but again… Did she have any for real?
At these moments, best to have friends as close as possible. And despite the fact, Xailah graduated, and they did not see each other for a long time, the connection stayed. And Xailah saved her. Or best to say — changed her. Maybe no one could know at that point that it was a change, but it was. Deep inside, it was. The wand that chose her, without even knowing about it, the first touch felt… It felt like she had a twin sister she didn’t know about ever; as if they were separated at birth, and now they were meeting each other for the first time.
Xailah travelled a lot. She brought gifts, but this was no ordinary gift. It was her 18th birthday gift. The age, when you shift between universes. Escaping one to be pushed into another. Her wand served her good, but it did not align well with the new personality that grew inside her over these years.
A cold winter day it was, a very intricate case she received. Purple, velvet, with black ornaments, showing the divine features of style, mark of a woman that Xailah was — the Style Goddess. Meenauh carefully opened it and inside, in the tenderness cloth of wine-coloured silk, was one of the most beautiful wands she had ever seen in her life. It was straight, glossy, and it even smelled wonderfully. Unyielding, pretty short for quick actions. A note inside, in perfect calligraphy, displayed the characteristics: 18 cm (exactly her age!), walnut wood, Rougarou hair core. Her eyes widened. It was a rare core, she actually knew very little about.
Walnut was a very specific kind of wood, and Xailah knew best that it fits Meenauh wholly. Known to be fitting the most intelligent (yes, and modest) wizards and witches. Was Meenauh intelligent? One could say that her mind was a library that she could retrieve anything at anytime (not fully true, but she always tries to). Quite a good candidate she was for the wood like that. 68 words.
The Rougarou hair core... She had to go to the library for that one. Unpredictable — that was the change in character she had over the past several years. She had to. Otherwise, one could not survive Hogwarts. Her vigilance also fit the wand core that was aware of its surroundings. Quick reactions, loyal, reliable. Meenauh could have said the same about her, so was this wand. And it was the best possible compliment from Xailah. 75 words.
The short wand was a bit interesting to have. Even to look at. She retrieved and watched her almost 30 cm wand, and the 18 cm one looks as if it was just a half of a wand. Her slick and flexible figure was a match for quick actions, all the instincts that were trained throughout her duelling career. She valued precision — no need to make a show out of it, if you can achieve things without others noticing it. Straight to the heart. Quick to think, quick to act — yes, sometimes it was too short-tempered, but that was where the shortness of the wand would just be handy. 109 words.
Short, and unyielding. They said it was also a rare type. Wood in most cases bend at least slightly. This one was like stone. The years spent at Hogwarts taught her well, tempered her spirit, darkened some of the bright corners of her soul, what blossomed earlier died, because otherwise one could not sustain. A witch wielding an unyielding. Determination. Like this type of the wood — to not bend. 69 words.
The moment she touched the glossy wood, a surge of warm electricity crawled under her fingertip and under the skin, reaching her shoulder and then coming down straight into her heart. A strange, subtle glint glowed in her pupils, as if some other side of her woke up. Emerged from deep within, where it lied dormant this whole time. A new page of life… to hell with that — a new book of her was being written at that very moment, and no one in this entire timeline, including herself, knew exactly where it could lead her. Tabula Rasa.
WC: 1024
People change. Personalities change. As years go by, Meenauh became more and more locked inside her palace of constant knowledge absorption. It was so deeply intertwined inside every thread of her soul, that it became her only aspiration and her only goal in life. Until the moment when it made no more sense to her. Learning did not bring her any joy. Real joy, like talking to a friend, or coming back to her parents after long weeks of absence. Stockpiling and hoarding every spell possible seemed like a tool, but it just didn’t stand a chance to be a goal.
She remembered that when she was getting closer to her OWLs, and then the fact that they had to research possible career paths, there was nothing like a spell hoarder among the list of professions. Who would value one, anyway? What good could she cause? It was the moment that broke Meenauh how we knew her. She needed a new goal. A big one.
Did she want to be a healer? Did she want to be an auror? How could she know? How could one know for real without trying? Nothing, really nothing among the researched careers sparked any even light flame in her heart. It felt like devastation. As if life had become meaningless. Maybe there was some comfort in dark magic — the area very different from her morals, but again… Did she have any for real?
At these moments, best to have friends as close as possible. And despite the fact, Xailah graduated, and they did not see each other for a long time, the connection stayed. And Xailah saved her. Or best to say — changed her. Maybe no one could know at that point that it was a change, but it was. Deep inside, it was. The wand that chose her, without even knowing about it, the first touch felt… It felt like she had a twin sister she didn’t know about ever; as if they were separated at birth, and now they were meeting each other for the first time.
Xailah travelled a lot. She brought gifts, but this was no ordinary gift. It was her 18th birthday gift. The age, when you shift between universes. Escaping one to be pushed into another. Her wand served her good, but it did not align well with the new personality that grew inside her over these years.
A cold winter day it was, a very intricate case she received. Purple, velvet, with black ornaments, showing the divine features of style, mark of a woman that Xailah was — the Style Goddess. Meenauh carefully opened it and inside, in the tenderness cloth of wine-coloured silk, was one of the most beautiful wands she had ever seen in her life. It was straight, glossy, and it even smelled wonderfully. Unyielding, pretty short for quick actions. A note inside, in perfect calligraphy, displayed the characteristics: 18 cm (exactly her age!), walnut wood, Rougarou hair core. Her eyes widened. It was a rare core, she actually knew very little about.
Walnut was a very specific kind of wood, and Xailah knew best that it fits Meenauh wholly. Known to be fitting the most intelligent (yes, and modest) wizards and witches. Was Meenauh intelligent? One could say that her mind was a library that she could retrieve anything at anytime (not fully true, but she always tries to). Quite a good candidate she was for the wood like that. 68 words.
The Rougarou hair core... She had to go to the library for that one. Unpredictable — that was the change in character she had over the past several years. She had to. Otherwise, one could not survive Hogwarts. Her vigilance also fit the wand core that was aware of its surroundings. Quick reactions, loyal, reliable. Meenauh could have said the same about her, so was this wand. And it was the best possible compliment from Xailah. 75 words.
The short wand was a bit interesting to have. Even to look at. She retrieved and watched her almost 30 cm wand, and the 18 cm one looks as if it was just a half of a wand. Her slick and flexible figure was a match for quick actions, all the instincts that were trained throughout her duelling career. She valued precision — no need to make a show out of it, if you can achieve things without others noticing it. Straight to the heart. Quick to think, quick to act — yes, sometimes it was too short-tempered, but that was where the shortness of the wand would just be handy. 109 words.
Short, and unyielding. They said it was also a rare type. Wood in most cases bend at least slightly. This one was like stone. The years spent at Hogwarts taught her well, tempered her spirit, darkened some of the bright corners of her soul, what blossomed earlier died, because otherwise one could not sustain. A witch wielding an unyielding. Determination. Like this type of the wood — to not bend. 69 words.
The moment she touched the glossy wood, a surge of warm electricity crawled under her fingertip and under the skin, reaching her shoulder and then coming down straight into her heart. A strange, subtle glint glowed in her pupils, as if some other side of her woke up. Emerged from deep within, where it lied dormant this whole time. A new page of life… to hell with that — a new book of her was being written at that very moment, and no one in this entire timeline, including herself, knew exactly where it could lead her. Tabula Rasa.
WC: 1024
Note:
1. Please, strikethrough the Prodigal Charms Learner ability line (do not delete it, please).
2. Add "Wandmaker" after Spell Spread.
3. Add the description similar to others: "I have a new wand — walnut and rougarou hair."
STATUS: Pending, Ruby, June 29
Wandmaker applications require you to explain specifics of why each part of the wand suits your character. Each section of that should be a minimum of 50 words. Please reference this for more information.
STATUS: Pending, Ruby, June 30
Please include the specific word count for each section, as mentioned in the link I provided. You also need to include an explanation for the length and flexibility.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, July 1
Last edited by Meenauh Silmataurea on 30 Jun 2025, 20:51, edited 2 times in total.
Meenauh Silmataurea | STA: 9 | EVA: 10 | STR: 2 | WIS: 25 | ARC: 13 | ACC: 13
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=25587#p627365
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: I'm changing my Prodigal Charms Learner to Rapid Reviver
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: I'm changing my Prodigal Charms Learner to Rapid Reviver
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Born into a “pureblood" medical family really influenced Zach Zaphiere's life with his grandfather a senior neurosurgeon in London, grandmother an anatomical pathologist, uncles who worked in medical technologies, his deceased father who had interest in emergency medicine, and his mother who worked in veterinary. Not to mention that the generations above the grandfather had the same career area. The family was never far from medicine and healthcare. Then when Zach, in his seven years old said that he wanted to become a doctor, the family started to give stronger influence, especially his grandfather. Never in his life he would miss to make Zach learn about medicine, or at least, how their body functions. Sometimes with games, sometimes with tales, or just a simple fun fact, Zach was always exposed to the knowledge little by little. Not only that, the boy was also exposed to some motoric skills like how to put bandaid neatly, or how to treat bigger wounds, even learning surgical knots. It was all packed into some fun games. Fun, at least for Zach.
Then one day, Zach saw a torso mannequin. “What is it, Grandpa?” Zach tilted his head, curious about the thing. The old man explained that it was a helping tool to learn basic life support. “What is that?” Zach asked again. Smile bloomed on the old man's face, learning that Zach might have the interest to learn it. He explained the surface of the topic patiently to Zach. Then he asked Zach what he would do if he saw someone falling unconscious suddenly. The boy thought for some seconds, “I should ask for help from people around me. Maybe asking them to call an ambulance?” A rewarding pat was given to the boy. He continued to explain and eventually put the mannequin on the floor, teaching Zach how to do chest compression right. While it might look boring, Zach didn't feel the same. He thought it was really cool, like the scene that he saw in some movies. He learned from his grandfather and did a hands-on on the mannequin, feeling the sensation and putting it into his memory.
The lesson was eventually useful. One day, when he was taking an evening walk with his grandfather at a park, they suddenly saw a man suddenly collapse. There were only three people there, including the collapsed man. The grandfather immediately ran toward him, followed by Zach. He checked the consciousness and the pulse, then commanded Zach to call an ambulance using his phone. Zach was trembling while waiting for the answer. A woman's voice greeted him with an urgent tone, asking for some datas from the boy. “Granpa… I don't know where we are…” Panic could be heard from his voice.
The old man gave Zach a quick and clear order. “Minimal interruption. Go.” He stopped, grabbed the phone, and let Zach took over. Zach continued the chest compression. It wasn't the same feeling as he remembered from the mannequin. It's a human being, a real life. Zach kept doing the chest compression, his head was filled by reminders on high quality chest compression.
The grandfather eventually finished with calling the ambulance. He checked the pulse again and could feel the beats. “We can stop.” Then he positioned the man into a recovery position. Not long after that, the ambulance came and brought the man to the hospital.
“You did a great job. But a note, you also must be aware of where you are. It will really help you in any situations.” He gave a soft pat at Zach's head. The boy nodded. This experience was truly etched in his head and he will never forget it.
Then one day, Zach saw a torso mannequin. “What is it, Grandpa?” Zach tilted his head, curious about the thing. The old man explained that it was a helping tool to learn basic life support. “What is that?” Zach asked again. Smile bloomed on the old man's face, learning that Zach might have the interest to learn it. He explained the surface of the topic patiently to Zach. Then he asked Zach what he would do if he saw someone falling unconscious suddenly. The boy thought for some seconds, “I should ask for help from people around me. Maybe asking them to call an ambulance?” A rewarding pat was given to the boy. He continued to explain and eventually put the mannequin on the floor, teaching Zach how to do chest compression right. While it might look boring, Zach didn't feel the same. He thought it was really cool, like the scene that he saw in some movies. He learned from his grandfather and did a hands-on on the mannequin, feeling the sensation and putting it into his memory.
The lesson was eventually useful. One day, when he was taking an evening walk with his grandfather at a park, they suddenly saw a man suddenly collapse. There were only three people there, including the collapsed man. The grandfather immediately ran toward him, followed by Zach. He checked the consciousness and the pulse, then commanded Zach to call an ambulance using his phone. Zach was trembling while waiting for the answer. A woman's voice greeted him with an urgent tone, asking for some datas from the boy. “Granpa… I don't know where we are…” Panic could be heard from his voice.
The old man gave Zach a quick and clear order. “Minimal interruption. Go.” He stopped, grabbed the phone, and let Zach took over. Zach continued the chest compression. It wasn't the same feeling as he remembered from the mannequin. It's a human being, a real life. Zach kept doing the chest compression, his head was filled by reminders on high quality chest compression.
The grandfather eventually finished with calling the ambulance. He checked the pulse again and could feel the beats. “We can stop.” Then he positioned the man into a recovery position. Not long after that, the ambulance came and brought the man to the hospital.
“You did a great job. But a note, you also must be aware of where you are. It will really help you in any situations.” He gave a soft pat at Zach's head. The boy nodded. This experience was truly etched in his head and he will never forget it.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, June 29
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Hi.
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Replacing Components with Poison Resistance
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Replacing Components with Poison Resistance
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Vale's family history consisted of various potion experimentation that poisoned all practitioners for multiple generations. It would, by consequence, also affect its latest members of the Ashwood family. Vale was warned this by her mother, by her father, and even her grandmother. She would first notice the consequence was when it appears everything she consumed didn't cause her any form of immediate harm. Eating spicy or bitter food didn't overpower her taste buds. Flobberworm fritters, with its acidic aftertaste, made victims of its content. Vale, otherwise, took appreciation to its uniqueness. A formula that diverged from common ones is something to dissect, to appreciate against the mundane.
And with flobberworm fritters came many other appreciated, unique offerings (both good and bad). A poorly made potion was noticeable in its failure, but held nothing worse for Vale, such as hospitalization or even a bad stomachache. After all, the conduct of potions held nothing to her ancestors. Even they had to drink a few poisons to strive for the perfect creation to render their enemies obsolete.
For Vale, however, assassinating her enemies would have to come last. Homework and exams come first. Perfection, despite some objections, isn't immediate via birth. Birth can only allow advantages towards perfection. An animal born with claws only has the advantage to capture its prey, but it is not guaranteed a daily meal without its advantage practiced with. It is the same for Vale, who would build upon her gift (depending on who is asked in the family tree, they may even consider it a curse), to able her perfection.
Now with her hard-earned efforts, her dedicated work, simply drinking poisons is easy to decipher and understand without the immediate hindrance of ill symptoms. Healing potions are tested on their strength through her own taste buds. The taste of many potions and poisons have become familiar through their either calming, or acidic liquids. Vale was learning more and more as to what it means to be a true Ashwood. Whether it was to heal the common ill as her mother does, or simply create new potions as her father does, Vale knew she was capable to conduct any such liquids for her own personal desires.
Unfortunately, Vale won't be able to help with the family business until she was older, and that was coming from her own father. Apparently, it would be hard to explain to customers why their basic healing potions are no longer working well after many years of using Ashwood services. Hmph! Fine, Vale will just continue eating her entire plate of flobberworm fritters whenever it was back on the menu at school. Small successes matter too.
And with flobberworm fritters came many other appreciated, unique offerings (both good and bad). A poorly made potion was noticeable in its failure, but held nothing worse for Vale, such as hospitalization or even a bad stomachache. After all, the conduct of potions held nothing to her ancestors. Even they had to drink a few poisons to strive for the perfect creation to render their enemies obsolete.
For Vale, however, assassinating her enemies would have to come last. Homework and exams come first. Perfection, despite some objections, isn't immediate via birth. Birth can only allow advantages towards perfection. An animal born with claws only has the advantage to capture its prey, but it is not guaranteed a daily meal without its advantage practiced with. It is the same for Vale, who would build upon her gift (depending on who is asked in the family tree, they may even consider it a curse), to able her perfection.
Now with her hard-earned efforts, her dedicated work, simply drinking poisons is easy to decipher and understand without the immediate hindrance of ill symptoms. Healing potions are tested on their strength through her own taste buds. The taste of many potions and poisons have become familiar through their either calming, or acidic liquids. Vale was learning more and more as to what it means to be a true Ashwood. Whether it was to heal the common ill as her mother does, or simply create new potions as her father does, Vale knew she was capable to conduct any such liquids for her own personal desires.
Unfortunately, Vale won't be able to help with the family business until she was older, and that was coming from her own father. Apparently, it would be hard to explain to customers why their basic healing potions are no longer working well after many years of using Ashwood services. Hmph! Fine, Vale will just continue eating her entire plate of flobberworm fritters whenever it was back on the menu at school. Small successes matter too.
Word Count: 443
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, June 29
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: here!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Keen Eye
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Sometimes people say they want to disappear when all they really want is to be found
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Keen Eye
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Charlotte was born to a muggle father and a witch mother. They'd often go on hikes where they would see the beautiful terrain and forest. Charlotte would notice things her other family members didn't. Charlotte had always been observant. From noticing small changes to always somehow finding lost things, Charlotte would notice everything. She never lost anything, and if she did, she would find it. Her sharp senses allowed her to notice other things people didn't. When someone moved or changed something at her house, she always knew what it was.
For most of her life, it never seemed abnormal. It was just a part of her. She just figured everyone else could do the same. It never even bothered her. She was 6 and a half, (before she'd had her first instance of magic,) when she figured out otherwise. One day, on one of those hikes, Charlotte's father lost his beloved gold watch. Her father looked everywhere, even tried to retrace his steps to see where he could have lost it. He was devastated.
"Let's look again," Charlotte's younger sister suggested. She was also upset the watch was missing.
"How can we find it? It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack," her dad sighed. At lunch time, Charlotte decided to look for it. But how? They'd travel so far. His watch could have fallen off anywhere. Charlotte decided to climb a tall tree and scanned her surroundings. She concentrated hard, looking at every rock and twig. Every tree. Every leaf. Finally, after a few minutes of looking and looking, she spied a gold shimmer not too far away! She climbed down the tree.
"I think I found the watch! I think I found the watch! Charlotte shouted to her family.
It was her father's watch! Her parents couldn't believe it. Even Charlotte herself couldn't believe it. Her father had retraced his steps and couldn't find it. And she was a 9 year old girl who was sitting in a tree. It was that moment that Charlotte knew that she had some sort of skill.
After that memorable day, Charlotte was amazed at her newfound skill. After all, for most of her life she hadn't been anyone special. She'd been ordinary. Normal. This new feeling felt great. Charlotte wanted to test her limit! She'd shut her eyes and toss a marble into a large grass field. She would then look for the marble. And Charlotte would find it every single time.
Word count: 414
For most of her life, it never seemed abnormal. It was just a part of her. She just figured everyone else could do the same. It never even bothered her. She was 6 and a half, (before she'd had her first instance of magic,) when she figured out otherwise. One day, on one of those hikes, Charlotte's father lost his beloved gold watch. Her father looked everywhere, even tried to retrace his steps to see where he could have lost it. He was devastated.
"Let's look again," Charlotte's younger sister suggested. She was also upset the watch was missing.
"How can we find it? It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack," her dad sighed. At lunch time, Charlotte decided to look for it. But how? They'd travel so far. His watch could have fallen off anywhere. Charlotte decided to climb a tall tree and scanned her surroundings. She concentrated hard, looking at every rock and twig. Every tree. Every leaf. Finally, after a few minutes of looking and looking, she spied a gold shimmer not too far away! She climbed down the tree.
"I think I found the watch! I think I found the watch! Charlotte shouted to her family.
It was her father's watch! Her parents couldn't believe it. Even Charlotte herself couldn't believe it. Her father had retraced his steps and couldn't find it. And she was a 9 year old girl who was sitting in a tree. It was that moment that Charlotte knew that she had some sort of skill.
After that memorable day, Charlotte was amazed at her newfound skill. After all, for most of her life she hadn't been anyone special. She'd been ordinary. Normal. This new feeling felt great. Charlotte wanted to test her limit! She'd shut her eyes and toss a marble into a large grass field. She would then look for the marble. And Charlotte would find it every single time.
Word count: 414
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, June 29
Sometimes people say they want to disappear when all they really want is to be found
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread : X
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for : Replacing Prodigal Charms Learner with Perfectionist II
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it) :
I was told I was dangerous. When I asked why, they said, "Because you don't need anyone." That's when I smiled.
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for : Replacing Prodigal Charms Learner with Perfectionist II
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it) :
Reducio
WC: 552
Once upon a time, there was a young witch who’s only want in this world was to please her mother and her family. More than anything, she needed to meet the impossibly high expectations that had been laid before her that were constantly shifting further away ever since she could remember. This had bred into her a desperate need to be the epitome of perfection; a perfect dancer, perfect musician, perfect grades, perfect daughter befitting her place in the family. If not to everyone around her, then at least to her kin. The one child in her generation that wouldn’t screw up. Her cousin had failed that mission before it had even begun, and ever since she was held on a higher pedestal.
At the time, she had been fine carrying such a burden alone. After all, at least one of them would be free and happy. That was enough at then… but he left her behind as well. The gaze on her shifted to a wondering if she would defect as well, or continue on the path they expected of her.
Illowy couldn't recall a time when that wasn't the driving force behind every accomplishment of her's. However, that little girl, full of desperation to please the adults around her, had long since drowned under such suffocating expectations. That which was reborn in her place was a witch who's only focus now was to prove she could meet those expectations, then disappoint them when she threw all their plans away to chart her own course.
She would be perfect in every single way as a witch. Every trace of her wand, every spell that left her lips, she would make them flawless. Illowy would force herself to become the deadliest piece on the board, and allow them to believe all the grinding, debilitating, relentless pushing and training would finally pay off before she ruined their vision of herself.
Illowy Magnard couldn't bring herself to live for the approval of the adults that failed, lied or abandoned her anymore. These people who claimed to love her, but turned away in disappointment the moment she stumbled or her strength wavered. There was no room for weakness or mistakes or softness. No, now everything that once fueled her passion and determination, had been replaced with pure, unadulterated spite.
Illowy Magnard was already a perfectionist, but she could see the minute ways in which she could improve. She would improve the failings, even if they were only perceivable to herself, and make herself better until failure became unheard of from her. Her hours upon hours of training and studying wouldn’t be for nothing. She wouldn’t seek her revenge against their expectations by sabotaging herself. That would never do -totally unbecoming of a Slytherin. She was too ambitious to waste herself in such a way.
For now, she still couldn’t be sure what exactly she was going to do with the rest of her life, but she was sure of one thing; she’ll work herself into the grave before ever doing anything again for the sake of someone else's dreams or expectations or plans for her. She was going to build her own plans and gain her accomplishments according to her own wants. This was her life, and she was going to take full control of it.
Once upon a time, there was a young witch who’s only want in this world was to please her mother and her family. More than anything, she needed to meet the impossibly high expectations that had been laid before her that were constantly shifting further away ever since she could remember. This had bred into her a desperate need to be the epitome of perfection; a perfect dancer, perfect musician, perfect grades, perfect daughter befitting her place in the family. If not to everyone around her, then at least to her kin. The one child in her generation that wouldn’t screw up. Her cousin had failed that mission before it had even begun, and ever since she was held on a higher pedestal.
At the time, she had been fine carrying such a burden alone. After all, at least one of them would be free and happy. That was enough at then… but he left her behind as well. The gaze on her shifted to a wondering if she would defect as well, or continue on the path they expected of her.
Illowy couldn't recall a time when that wasn't the driving force behind every accomplishment of her's. However, that little girl, full of desperation to please the adults around her, had long since drowned under such suffocating expectations. That which was reborn in her place was a witch who's only focus now was to prove she could meet those expectations, then disappoint them when she threw all their plans away to chart her own course.
She would be perfect in every single way as a witch. Every trace of her wand, every spell that left her lips, she would make them flawless. Illowy would force herself to become the deadliest piece on the board, and allow them to believe all the grinding, debilitating, relentless pushing and training would finally pay off before she ruined their vision of herself.
Illowy Magnard couldn't bring herself to live for the approval of the adults that failed, lied or abandoned her anymore. These people who claimed to love her, but turned away in disappointment the moment she stumbled or her strength wavered. There was no room for weakness or mistakes or softness. No, now everything that once fueled her passion and determination, had been replaced with pure, unadulterated spite.
Illowy Magnard was already a perfectionist, but she could see the minute ways in which she could improve. She would improve the failings, even if they were only perceivable to herself, and make herself better until failure became unheard of from her. Her hours upon hours of training and studying wouldn’t be for nothing. She wouldn’t seek her revenge against their expectations by sabotaging herself. That would never do -totally unbecoming of a Slytherin. She was too ambitious to waste herself in such a way.
For now, she still couldn’t be sure what exactly she was going to do with the rest of her life, but she was sure of one thing; she’ll work herself into the grave before ever doing anything again for the sake of someone else's dreams or expectations or plans for her. She was going to build her own plans and gain her accomplishments according to her own wants. This was her life, and she was going to take full control of it.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, June 29
I was told I was dangerous. When I asked why, they said, "Because you don't need anyone." That's when I smiled.