Name: Lance Alexander Beckett
Age: 11
Year: First Year
Race: Human
Blood Status: Wizard-born
School House: Pukwudgie

Appearance:
Rich brown hair runs through the Beckett family and Lance is no exception to this lineage. He is a tall, fair-skinned boy with a skinny frame. Oftentimes, he can be seen with a persistently tired expression. His choice of clothing is usually formal, but not overly stylish. He prefers keeping things simple, but not unkempt.

Personality:
Lance is a reserved and soft-spoken individual. Beneath this unassuming exterior, there boils an unfaltering determination to liberate his family from bigotry. He is an artful gentleman, possessing the cunning of a tactician and the etiquette of a noble-born to fit. Preferring to remain in the shadows while he unveils his plots, it is rare to see him drawing attention to himself unless it is out of necessity.

History:
The Beckett family is an old and well-established pureblood family, but it too has its slew of conspiracies and collusion. James Beckett III was born in 1905. He was a politician in the Wizarding World, advocating against muggle-borns and in favor of blood purity.

In the aftermath of the First World War (1927), 22-year-old James ventured to America to take advantage of the economic boom that accompanied the jazz age. It was during his tours that he met and eventually began a relationship with a witch by the name of Maria Young (b. 1903). They had a whirlwind romance which ended up with Maria bearing him a male heir before they were legally married. However, the purist James soon discovered something about his paramour that had been kept from him. Though she claimed to be a pureblood, she had neither the pureblood appearance nor the lineage to prove it. The truth came soon after. She was a muggle-born. She had hoped that by bearing him a child and earning his love under the guise of being a member of the social elite, she would open his eyes to the unfairness of blood purity. But angered at being manipulated by the object of his passion, James promptly left America without a word and denied ever having any sort of relationship with his old flame. He would not marry for another 20 years out of weariness against the likes of women who sought to charm him. At age 42 he finally found his love in a British pureblood, Bianca Addington. In 1950, at age 45, she bore him a son, Alexander Beckett IV, who he named as his legitimate heir.

Maria Young, after being abandoned by her thoughtless husband, remained in the United States with her son, Fremont Beckett, who was named in place of the soaring aspirations of the free world in the west. In the absence of his father, he existed as the product of an illegitimate relationship. He would carry this shame upon his family name even when he attended Ilvermorny and into adulthood. His bastard status was often a cause for discrimination, especially among the pureblood circles. He worked tooth and nail for his family to get by, and eventually married at age 25. He had a single male child that year, Arthur Beckett (b. 1952), named after the Arthurian character of the same name. Under financial constraints, it was difficult as it was to raise a single child, let alone more than one. Arthur also attended Ilvermorny and was sorted into the house of Wampus. In his adult years, he found success and recognition as a MACUSA agent, later marrying his quartermaster, Colleen Aronin, a second-generation Jewish-American witch who migrated after escaping from Germany during the Second World War. Together, they had an eldest son and two daughters: Tristan, Makayla ‘Kay’, and Morgan. With a limited inheritance from their grandfather, the three siblings grew close over years of scornful treatment from other pureblood families as a result of their illegitimacy. Tristan Beckett later married his Ilvermorny sweetheart, Annabelle Otters, and had three children. The eldest son, Lance Beckett, was named after the Arthurian character Lancelot and is the character this biography is dedicated to.

Throughout the 20th century, the illegitimate Beckett line has struggled with the prejudiced opinions of others. However, upon learning that the current heir to the Beckett family fortune is locked away in Azkaban, leaving a single troubled daughter to tend to the future of the family name, it appears that an opportunity has arrived for the bastard Becketts to reclaim the pride they lost nearly a century again.

And this is where our story begins.

First Instance of Magic

As a child, Lance grew up exhibiting common signs of magical ability. When he was fearful or confused, objects around him would begin to tremble, becoming outlets for the outpouring of his emotion. As he grew older, these events decreased in frequency and eventually ceased altogether when he matured. Nonetheless, his wizard parents made a point to prepare him for a wizard’s education by teaching him basic wand control and the responsibility entrusted to him when he finally acquired that precious tool; which at the utterance of a misguided word, could be turned into a deadly weapon.

His childhood was filled with unsatisfied promise, the echos of James Beckett III’s I love you existing on within him. The emotional conviction that had once enthralled a pair of lovers was now a shattered mirror of his own dreams. He set his sights on Britain, as his family had influenced him to over the years, yearning to meet and reconnect with the family he had lost all those decades ago.

Stats:
Stamina: 5

Evasion: 10

Strength: 0

Wisdom: 10

ArcPower: 0

Accuracy: 10

Abilities:
None

Approved Edits were made regarding blood status so bio is approved. I removed under abilities "Perfectionist" as there is no application so it cannot be accepted.

nefelibata

"cloud-walker"

"one who lives in the clouds of their own imagination or dreams."

─────────────────────────────── Age 11 Birthdate May 24th, 2009 Schooling Year 1 House Thunderbird | Ilvermorny Race Human Blood Status Muggle-born

keep your feet on the ground====but let your dreams soar high

appearance ──────────────────────── [138 words] Reducio The Mahlers were well known because of how they could stand out easily from the rest of the crowd, adorned with stunning platinum almost-white hair and crystal blue eyes. Lucietta was no exception, living up well to this standard. She has a thin, timid figure, and pale, snow-white flawless skin. Often she can be seen staring off into space, and can be hard to capture her attention for very long. Lucietta has the habit of twirling her hair whenever she is nervous or anxious, which she is currently trying to get rid of. Seeing as her family has a undamaged reputation, Lucietta has been taught since a young age to be the very picture of perfection, specifically disguising, hiding, and feigning her facial expressions. So far, she has somewhat been able to live up to her parents' standards. faceclaim: joana groeblingoff

personality ──────────────────────── [209 words] Reducio Lucietta has always been, and always will be, a dreamer. While sometimes naïve and trusting, Lucietta has big dreams and nothing can stop that. Less than wary until provoked, Lucietta is one to get lured or tricked easily. Insults and jabs have no affect whatsoever on her, however, and she'll accept all that comes towards her. In her mind, kindness is the most important. Lucietta always has high hopes and ambitions, and is always optimistic no matter what. While she is more on the quiet side, she isn't completely mindless when it comes to interacting with others. Lucietta can also be very protective and defensive under the right circumstances, but usually in conflicts she can be the last to speak up or choose sides. Lucietta hates choosing or making important decisions, and she will avoid it if possible. Though it is not the best definition, Lucietta can be "easy-going" in some sort of way, but she certainly isn't very uptight or edgy. While Lucietta might be pushed around easily, she is aware of her breaking point and can get very mad when pushed the right amount. She forgives quite easily, however, and becoming her enemy is quite a feat. She's not one to hold grudges or purposely make problems.

history ──────────────────────── [425 words] Reducio The Mahlers - a very well known and wealthy Muggle family from Germany. The Mahlers were well known for the fact that their family was full of famous artists scattered all throughout the family, and they had gained their riches from that. Each and all of the generations had the same dream legacy - to be one of the lucky few ones to be born with such talent. The high important was to be one of those few, and this caused many problems within both within the family relationships as well as their reputation. Lucietta Adaleigh Thea Mahler, or referred commonly to as "Luce" by family and close relations, was born in late May to Walter and Annalise Mahler, both of whom were prime examples of what most members of the Mahler family acted as. 'Adaleigh' was one of the names given to her, as Lucietta's grandmother was named so, and "Thea" as one of the names of Walter and Annalise's dear friends. Lucietta was raised into the lifestyle of her family, and Lucietta hadn't really realized or found anything quite wrong with it until recently, when she began to question what it was all really about. Art is quite dear to her heart, though, and Lucietta would never give it up. Shortly after that, Lucietta's younger twin brothers Finn and Leon were born, and are both currently nine years old. The siblings get along quite well, in contract to common cases of sibling conflicts. Her first instance of magic occurred around the age of four or five - it was around her birthday, Lucietta could remember that much about the date - and it had completely caught Lucietta off guard. Lucietta wanted the crayons, and she couldn't quite reach them, being a four/five year old. And so next she did the thing that made the most sense - used magic to levitate it towards her until she could reach upwards and simply grab it. Her father was the only one present to witness this, and eventually the family was given an explanation for that. Lucietta sees magic as one of the many twists and turns in her future, though she still has no idea what to do. In addition, the house Thunderbird brings an interesting mix to Lucietta's observations. What is means about her, Lucietta has yet to discover. Lucietta owns a special sketchbook given to her by her parents, in which she keeps sketches of objects and scenes of importance to her. She treasures this sketchbook, and she would daresay call it was her most prized possession.

ability - calming presence ──────────────────────── [436 words] Reducio Lucietta was one rarely to ever get angry or mad. In fact, it was very important in her beliefs to solve conflicts by talking it out rather than arguing further or disagreeing with each other (except for that one time Finn stepped on her sketchbook, but that's a story for another day). In the many opinions of Lucietta, you could search for hours, but you might never come upon 'one with a temper'. The Mahlers, however, were one of the most uptight families you might encounter, but Lucietta is quite different from the rest of her family. Perhaps it is her determination to be stray away from her family's beliefs, or perhaps it was just how the girl naturally was - a gentle, kind person. Lucietta was always one to try. It might be class or activities, but most notably it was the way she talked and interacted with others. Though not obvious, Lucietta cared greatly about these moments, not how the others thought of her, but if she had affected them negatively in any way. Lucietta prides herself on being a personage of the qualities she was most accounted for. Being a light for others, not for the glory of so, but for the hope that she could lead them out - one sentence that could easily be used to describe Lucietta. One of the best Lucietta's best qualities, in truth, was her optimism and hope. Lucietta has never been pessimistic, and believes strongly that anything can be possible, and that everyone has an important purpose in their life. Lucietta can be quite an asset if you ever need a helpful hand or just a bit more encouragement. While these qualities of Lucietta had never been noticed before by the girl as some obvious or clear aura or effect she had on others, the girl did indeed have some sort of calming effect on them. Lucietta might not be amazing, or brilliant, or the best person you were ever to meet, but Lucietta didn't need those titles. The positivity and optimism Lucietta carried around with her was enough for her, and if she could use that to her advantage to help and encourage others, to help them better focus on their magic or even tasks in particular, well, that was an added bonus. All in all, Lucietta was a person with high hopes and dreams who tried her best to encourage and help others, and that feeling often spread to others. Whether this made her an extraordinary human being or not, Lucietta didn't mind much. She just wanted to be one to be able to help others.

everytime you walk into the room====i'm speechless

stats sta 7 eva 9 str 2 wis 4 arc 5 acc 8

quidditch | chaser extracurricular

tell me your problems====i'll chase them away

PENDING - needs edits: Please expand on the counterfeit painting/burglary comment. If it's a major crime (stole a lot of money / from someone of importance), they should have gotten caught or it is more known. Expand on the issues the family had and how they hid it if this is something you wish to keep.

edited! i was excited haha

Approved

Can no longer see anything about the aforementioned so assuming it was removed or replaced. This has been approved.
Stats are approved (35)

Ilvermorny iNPC
Melody Westmoore

Face claim: Lily Collins

Full Name: Melody Lane Westmoore
School: Ilvermorny
Year: First
House: Thunderbird
Blood Status: Muggleborn

Appearance:

Mel has shoulder-length brown-blond hair and hazel eyes. She is semi-tall, and has long runner's legs. Mel has tanned skin and some freckles, and is always wearing beaded crystal bracelets on both hands (which she takes off for quidditch and soccer). Her usual garb consists of jeans or jean shorts, converse high-tops which she absentmindedly doodles on when she's bored, and earth-toned t-shirts. She has a favorite crimson hoodie that she wears in every season except summer. It is her mother's old Harvard sweatshirt.

Personality:

Melody is courageous and witty, and loves adventure. She has a strong sense of morality and justice, and will always fight for what she knows is right. That being said, she never says no to a "harmless" prank every now and then. She can be quite mischievous. The young Thunderbird is endlessly stubborn, and has a quick, hot temper. Melody has an unquenchable wanderlust, and is always ready to get up and go. She hopes to visit every US state and every continent before she dies, and has a long bucket list.
Mel is a very athletic person, and enjoys playing Quidditch, soccer, and running track. She has a sharp tongue that too often gets her in trouble. She is also always the first to stand up for someone who is being bullied, and is a fairly kind person if you don't get on her bad side. But if you do, boy can that girl hold a grudge. She has a good sense of humor, and is also very sarcastic. Her snark has been known to get her points deducted in class.

History:

Melody Lane Westmoore was born on April 13th, 2009. It was 4:01 am when she was brought into the world by Vanorah Westmoore, her mother. The night (well, morning) was dark and stormy, the sky lively like the young girl born beneath it. The moon was nearly full, and it shone through the storm.

Mel was raised by her mother. Her father vanished when he found out his girlfriend was expecting a baby. Vanorah hasn't seen him since, and Mel knows little about him. The now-twelve-year-old has a younger brother, Oliver Declan Westmoore, who is nine years of age. Their mother works full-time for a law firm, as a secretary. Her true ambition is to be a lawyer, but she had to drop out of Harvard Law school when she got pregnant. Crippled by student debt, and without any support from the father of her child, Vanorah lost the rent on her apartment. Since one of her parents was dead by this time, and the other living in Sweden on a whim, unwilling to take her pregnant daughter in, she was forced onto the streets. After months of living in shelters and under highways, and job interview after job interview, Vanorah finally got a position as a maid at a hotel, and was able to save up enough to buy a house. Unable to pay for hospital bills, this was where she gave birth to Mel. Two years later she got the job at the law firm, where she's worked ever since. A year after that, baby Ollie was adopted.

Mel attended public elementary school, and got her Ilvermorny letter the summer after 5th grade. She was entirely shocked, as she knew nothing about the Wizarding World before then. However, there was something in Mel that had always known she was different -from her family, from the kids at school, from how she thought she was "supposed" to be as a normal person in society. A part of that was proven to her when she had her first instance of magic.

One day, after it had rained, Mel had sat outside and wondered about her father. She didn't do this often. She didn't need him. It was never like 'some part of her was missing' or whatever. Her family felt complete with just her, Ollie, and her mom. They were happy. But of course, this didn't stop her from wondering, just occasionally.
Well anyway, Mel was sitting on a tree stump in the backyard, starling into a puddle. She had always loved storms -the wilder, the better. And the way that, after one, the world seemed clean and new, and the air smelled fresh. The way everything was brighter, and sharper, and the world came into focus. Mel stared into that puddle, and she thought, I wonder what my dad looks like. The pool of muddy water started to clear then, all the silt sinking to the bottom. The surface of the pool took on a slight silvery sheen. The shadows reflected in the water came together in the middle to form the figure of a man. He was shadowy and faint, but Mel could make out dark unruly hair and the sharp lines of his features. It wasn't the true form of her father, but how she'd imagined him on those occasions she'd let herself wonder. Still, the sudden appearance of the face had startled her witless. She'd gasped and run from the puddle, taking refuge in the branches of her favorite willow tree, until her mother had called her in to dinner. Mel never mentioned her first instance of magic. By the time she got her school letter, she'd so convinced herself it was a dream that it took her a moment to remember the incident, and to recognize it for what it must have been.

Is Your Character a Broom Racer? No

Is Your Character a Quidditch Player? Yes

Is Your Character a Duelist? No

Stats:
Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 5 | Arc Power: 6 | Accuracy: 5

Abilities: Evasive Maneuvers

Since she was small, Mel has always been particularly athletic. She plays soccer and runs track at home, and is quite good at them, too. Nimble and quick, once the girl gets running almost no one can catch her. The same is true for Quidditch, up in the air. Mel swoops and dives out of reach of bludgers, scoring goals like nobody's business. Aside from physical deftness, Melody Westmoore has a good instinct. She rarely goes wrong while following her gut, and this has saved her from dangerous situations before. This instinct is especially useful given her Thunderbird wanderlust, and impulsive tendencies. Throughout her school career and the rest of her life, it will serve her well.

It all started when she was very young. In elementary school, Melody discovered that running was a way to quiet her mind. To block out her hurricane of thoughts and worries -would her mother be able to make the house payments on her low salary? Would they lose their house? Would Mel ever feel like she truly fit in? Like she was in charge of her life?- and let it all melt away until there was only the pounding of her feet against the ground and her heavy, rhythmic breathing.
She began to run all the time, and this was when she joined the track team. This bled over into other activities, and soon she was constantly active, the muscles in her arms and legs becoming toned and her skin becoming tanned from all that time outside, under the Oregon sun. She ran and played soccer and sometimes basket- or volleyball. In the summer she spent hours every week at the community pool. Always in motion, Mel was able to drown the unrest raging within her.

This, too, was the time when she built up her instinct, though it had always been somewhat ingrained and natural. With a single mom working all the time, and now a younger brother, Mel had had to learn to take care of herself. It wasn't for lack of care or attentiveness on her mother's part, but in Vanorah's fight to keep the family afloat, it was often necessary for her daughter to become quite independent.

As Mel grew older, her home situation became more stable, and she more sure of herself with age, but she never lost her built-up stamina, athleticism, or instinct, and least of all her independence.

Word Count - 402

Note: All edits made.

Edits still allowed until 5/23
Thank you for your edits. We are still allowing edits to your ability application that is under word count because you did write an initial application. You have until 5/23 to do this.

Ability - Evasive Maneuvers description is too short. Needs to be at least 400+ words like any other ability application for me to approve it.

Name: Elliot Arthur Bexley

School: Ilvermorny

Year: Second

House: Pukwudgie

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Appearance:
A scrawny boy whose height requires most to look down to match eye level, of fair skin and curled ginger hair. His fair complexity is tinged with pink, scattered dustings of freckles, and light scars from rather embarrassing accidents earlier in life adorn his body, most prominently his hands. A wide grin always plastered on, and the bright light of childish wonder and mischief distinguishable in dark blue eyes. He prefers clothing that immediately makes him stand out, with bright shades of blue, yellow, and red appearing the most in his wardrobe. No matter what he wears or where he’s going, the tinted purple glasses stay on. Most say he even sleeps with them on, though the rumour was debunked after two years of hard searching.

Personality: Elliot often compares life to a game, and he strives to become the greatest hero ever seen in the game of living, surviving, nearly dying, and all in between. He wants to be noticed, whether the attention is for saving the cat or deflating the headteacher’s car tyres. This has made him an adaptable person, able to read the room and think of what actions will gain him the most smiles, though his room reading skills don’t usually work in tense situations, as he easily gets uncomfortable when he senses too much negative emotion. He thrives in places that have even a smidgen of potential for fun, even if his rather destructive ideas of fun wasn’t at all appreciated. If any particular thing was to gain his attention, he would immerse himself in it immediately, bordering on obsessive. Though it changes quickly, with remnants of his knitting, rock collecting, dinosaur, and shark years still evident in his bedroom, his most prominent and longest lasting ones include birds, arcades, playing cards. He finds the freedom of the bird something exciting, being able to travel and do whatever he may want being one of his major goals. As for playing cards, Elliot finds it fun to trick people while playing games, and magic has always fascinated him, even if it didn’t include flying sparks and flinging sticks all over the place. And arcades? What teenager in New York didn’t like arcades?

Elliot’s life, it seems, depends on being praised by others. Family by blood, family by choice, friends, acquaintances, people he would like to be his friends, people who wish him nothing but death but he still would like to be his friends, whoever. Most he knows, muggle or wizard, fall into the second to last category, though there are a rare few in his school, mostly muggleborns themselves, who do regard him as a human being, albeit one with no sense of dignity or etiquette, and much more pride than merited. He is extremely impulsive, barely able to foresee the details of his future. In fact, barely able to foresee details of five seconds after any action of his. His temper is something of a ticking time bomb, for if he’s ignored or talked down to for too long, figurative (and sometimes literal, though only with water balloons) explosions are imminent.

While he does know many people, none of them are close enough to be considered friends. With his irritating inability to take things seriously and his deep-rooted fear of getting close to someone only for the reason to be revealed as money or status, most think they’re better off recognising him as a grinning face in the crowd, and until he learns that not everything in life can be made as he wants it, they are much better off not being a friend on his.

History:

Reducio

Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York City, to a mother who simply did not have enough time in the day for yet another crying child and a father who favoured the other crying, redhead child much more. Elliot spent most of his younger years outside the apartment they lived in, befriending an old muggle magician who better fit the title of parent than either of those he lived with, as well as the magician’s son Benjamin, who better fit the title of brother than the one he lived with. Elliot, even before any sort of actual magic appeared, always distanced himself from his family, something they were happy about. They were much too cold for his liking, always thinking of who to befriend, who to connect with, only for business and benefit. Always hard to please, and though Elliot loved challenges, it wasn’t fun at all when the challenge was impossible. The closest he’d ever gotten to approval from any of them was a quiet laugh from his brother Roman after mixing the laundry together and making his father’s business suit a bright shade of pink. It had felt reward enough in the moment, but it didn’t protect him from the months-long grounding that would follow.

While his automatic nature when given any information was to forget it immediately, there is one memory that he remembered clear as though it happened a minute ago but desperately wanted to forget. It seemed an ordinary day: another test barely passed, another piece of homework lost in the lockers, another melting ice cream stolen from the cafeteria, and another parent-teacher conference called for something he did. Elliot had already developed a system to make sure the disappointed stares from his parents and the resentful glares of the faculty wouldn’t bother him: ignoring them. Every fancy, eloquent word that was a synonym of he’s a screw-up became an incoherent buzz as he thought of even more ways to grab the janitor’s keys for no reason other than because he felt like it. Then, a phone call came. He ignored it at first, carrying on with fidgeting with the peeling paint of the chair he was sitting on, until the phone mentioned Roman. Elliot had rolled his eyes, thinking it was yet another announcement about awards, until he heard hit-and-run accident in the same sentence.

Their last words exchanged were you love being the favorite. He couldn’t go to the funeral.

After the death of Roman, Elliot’s home was at muggle school, as weird as it seemed. Academics didn’t come easily to him for the most part, with his brain not being able to focus on a single serif word of a history book without getting bored. After all, why stay in one place reading something he’d forget barely a minute after, when one could be exploring the empty concrete buildings and all its wonders? However, he found after a while that he did love school, just not for the classes. Rather, for the people. Many weren’t nice, of course, but that didn’t deter him from his mission in becoming one of the most popular among the students and hated among the teachers. He stayed away from the studious types, however, as they reminded him a bit too much of his deceased brother.

Ilvermorny was a strange place for him. Back in muggle public school, it wasn’t hard at all to gain the respect of his peers. All it took was a few practical jokes on the stuffiest of teachers and a few gifts borrowed from convenience stores and boom, half the school at his feet. Now, barely any of them would look him in the eye, and if they did, it was more likely to be for an insult than anything else. This didn’t discourage him at all from his pursuit of ultimate fun, if anything, it encouraged him. While, indeed, his usual methods of doing homework had three steps (one, don’t do the homework, two, say that you did do it and forgot to bring it, three, hope the teacher eventually moves on and gives you a C-), he wanted to annoy them and earn their begrudging admiration, and so annoyed them he did. The begrudging admiration part is still in progress, however. He became one of the top fifty in his year, to the surprise of the entire castle. Most didn’t even expect him to make it past five thousandth. With excessive amounts of motivation, an everlasting desire to confound everyone who’s ever doubted him, and unconventional methods of studying, such as dartboards and playing cards, he managed to, for once, be one of the kids considered smart, as well as become a duelist.

FIRST INSTANCE OF MAGIC:
As with many people in their younger years, specifically those at the age of five, Elliot had a temper that the wildest of beasts and the most stoic of fast food employees cowered at. This temper was especially prominent and prevailing whenever one of three events took place: one, his family and their beloved hobby of criticising every fiber in his body making an appearance in the middle of his beloved hobby of criticising every fiber in their bodies silently; two, his family and their beloved hobby of effectively launching every achievement laminated at the office without the boss' permission and every award made of plastic gold his brother had earned into his face showing its ugly mug in the house; and three, the presence of watermelon Kool-Aid. It was just unnatural.

As luck would have it, these exasperating events had met up at Arby's only minutes earlier to laugh heartily, order fries, and to collide in what would be known as the day magic had first stepped into the Bexley residence.

There had been small signs before, easy to miss and wave off as a trick of the electricity bill. Golden sparks near the books appearing and disappearing in less than a blink, nightlights staying on when they should've been shut off minutes ago, things that even Elliot himself missed. Nobody could miss what would happen, however, on a certain evening that marked Roman's eighth year of being properly alive.

Elliot was spread across the couch minutes before the door rang, having little to do other than pretend to read about Mary's lamb and prepare his excuses as to why he just couldn't make his bed in the billion hours he'd been left alone. Then, his parents had come in, all wearing smiles that seemed real for once. Then, he'd noticed the medallion hung around his brother's neck. Elliot could never figure out whether that smile had been real.

What followed was peace for half a dinner. Idle small talk about business, praising phrases told to his brother for the speed at which his neurons worked, comments about the quantity of carbohydrates there were in his mother's meal. It was fun to have a few minutes as a happy family, all balanced in their respective roles and respect in general. Then, the conversation changed to a more touchy subject: Elliot's perceived (perhaps not even perceived to them, but that was another day's worth of arguments a five-year-old and even a twelve-year-old didn't have the capacity for) inferiority. It went from how smart his brother was to how unintelligent he was, that any preschooler. At least, that's what his muddled brain could make out. Maybe they hadn't even said anything like that back then, but that's what he remembered. It was a bit hard to focus on all the other details when the following occurrence, well, occurred.

The pitcher full of watermelon Kool-Aid exploded. The glass didn't touch him or his brother, but that didn't stop him from getting the punishment born of confusion and the pride born of still-confusion.

Is Your Character a Broom Racer? No
Is Your Character a Quidditch Player? No
Is Your Character a Duelist? Yes

Stats:
Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 9 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 7 | Arc Power: 5 | Accuracy: 7

Abilities:
Fearless

Reducio

Elliot's environment growing up could be likened to one with traps set on the floor, traps near invisible to the eye that if stepped on would trigger a reaction of sharp spikes sticking out, with seemingly no chance of escape. All one could do was keep on avoiding, keep on trying, but fail in the end. Elliot had figured this out soon enough, that he would always be lesser than in their cold eyes, and so he began to become braver. To rebel in any possible way, whether it be through actions involving more than a bit of fire, or words dripping with sarcasm.
His family also tried to use taunts and such to chip away at his confidence, to no avail. He was immune, putting up shields with witty comebacks stolen from action films and endless thoughts of what would, and could, happen once he turned of age and could finally run out of this place with no worries as to where he could go back.

Both parties, parents and child, had learned there was no disappointing or deterring the other from their respective missions, to make Elliot their new golden boy, and in the boy's case, to piss his family off to the point they didn't care anymore. However, both still persisted, even if in his father's mind, Elliot is far too gone now.

While he did have a solid roof over his head, Elliot spent most of his time in the streets of New York as a muggle magician, daring to use quick hands to make more than a few adults lose their money to a game of spotting the peanut under the cups. His pride, for both better and worse, was something impossible to strike down after his first solo act of tricks and cards, with him taking every criticism as a compliment and twisting words with his mouth, unable and unafraid of what would happen when others wished it to be shut.

He'd taken the words the world is your stage to heart after hearing it, doing wild things just for the sake of being able to say he's done it. Jump from one staircase to another for no identifiable reason? Been there, scratched his arm while doing that. Wander alone in the dawn, with nothing but a bicycle and a note? Been there, also scratched his arm while doing that, but it was fine. Anything that was fun was something he needed to do, even if it only brought more problems after it was done.

Once learning that indeed, such creatures as those wolves of the night and vampires from novels were real, he felt no fear. He felt more, a growing flame, one to achieve his wildest dreams and do such at cost of a finger or two. Beasts of the darkest corners of the world do not scare him, as he sees them more as opportunities than as something to run away from. An opportunity to prove himself to others, to be seen as the hero. Besides, with the quality of parenting he'd received (i.e. none), the only thing he would possibly be scared of was magic being fake. And with the scars of adventures past and dueling matches gone wrong tainting his skin, he was fairly certain he would never wake up from his dreams of becoming the hero everyone needs.

Ability 2: TBD

Approved

There is only 1 of two abilities at the time of this application (fearless)
Stat total is 40, approved.

Name Briar Madeline Worley School Ilvermorny Year First House Thunderbird Blood status Muggle-born

Appearance

Briar Madeline has a bright, radiant smile, and freckles splattered across her cheeks. Her hair is just past her shoulders, and is  straight and a chestnut color. It has a few caramel highlights only visible when the sun is beaming. Her eyes are also a matching chestnut brown color. She is of average height for a girl her age, about 4’8, and weighs 79 pounds. Her body is thin and slim, and her ears are very slightly pointed. Her apparel consists of mostly t-shirts, jeans, and big baggy sweaters that Briar likes to hide herself in.

Personality

Briar is a free-spirited, laid back,  spontaneous girl who adores causing mischief and cracking jokes, and is often called a comedic relief. However funny she may be, though, comedy is not her calling. No, her passion is actually music. She loves all sorts of music, from songs that sound like their from 2050 to songs that had been made all the way back in the 60’s. She can’t sing, or play any sort of instrument out there (trust me, she's surely tried) , but she feels like she has a connection to what she listens to. Briar also has a spirit of her own, so do not try to contain her or tell her what to do, she’ll just ignore you and move on.  She is most definitely an extrovert, and absolutely loves being with her friends and family. She will only stand being alone when she’s listening to music, which she seems to do most of the time instead of studying.

History

Reducio

Our story begins on a hot, hot, summer night. The air was so heavy and humid that when you stepped outside it felt like you could barely breathe at all. Muggles Jenette and Roger Worley were inside their Colorado home, trying awfully hard to bathe they're eldest child, Constance, but miserably failing, as Constance refused to touch the bath water in any way, shape, or form, even if they bribed the 2 year old with sweets. They were just about to give up and let Constance have her way, but then Roger's cell phone rang. He grabbed it out of his back pocket, looking at the number trying to reach him. It happened to be Worley's social worker, the one who had helped them adopt Constance.

He had excused himself from the bathroom, brushing his hand around his bald as a ping-pong ball head, as if running his hands through some invisible hair, and stepped into the hallway. The worker, Mrs. Clarice Perriwinkle, had explained to Roger that there was a baby freshly added into the foster system. A newborn baby girl, pudgy and sweet, who's mother couldn't take her in for medical reasons and whose father was far away, all the way in Ireland. Apparently, the baby had been born all the way on the 16th December, but it wasn't until recently that her mother had to unfortunately give her up. Mrs.Periwinkle said that she believed the chubby cuddle ball would be an absolutely perfect match for the Worley's, and so after Roger got off the phone and told his wife the news, they packed up their things and began the few hour drive to Denver, Colorado, where their soon-to-be family member was awaiting them.

It was love at first sight, or so thought poet and journalist Jenette Worley. From the second she had held Briar, she had fallen in absolute love. Briar was meant to be in the Worley family, both Jenette and Roger could feel it within them, and plus, Constance needed a playmate. So, within a month, the Worleys had officially adopted Briar, taken the journey back to Littleton, Colorado, and made her her very own room and everything. The family couldn't be happier, and the family stayed a quartet all the way up until March, 2012.
Constance was 4 years old, becoming more and more independent each day (she now had a 'big girl' bed, and was considered an adult in her eyes), and Briar was just beginning to get a look at life. She was starting to understand the sky, and her mama and daddy, and the melodies that came from the front of the car when her father was driving. Everything was just starting to take shape, and then it happened. Roger and Jenette adopted not one, not two, but three children. Two were 5-month-year-old twins; Isabella and Marcus from New Jersey, and the other a 7 year old, Logan, from Texas who had just been abandoned. The perfect family of four was officially ruined.

The snow was piled heavily outside, shining brightly under the 10:00 AM Saturday sun. Constance was sleeping in, Dad and Logan at the gym, Isabella and Marcus both at friend's houses for sleepovers, Mom getting some extra work done at the office, and so... Briar was all alone. She was jamming music in her bluetooth headphones, dancing around the living room, just because she could. She didn't even notice the beautiful white owl soaring towards her mail slot, holding a parchment letter, until she saw it plop onto the ground and the owl fly away into the white, cloudy skies of December. Briar paused her music, grabbing the letter from the ground, reading it slowly. Over and over she read. She was still standing in front of the door, frozen in awe, when the rest of her family all arrived home at once. Confused, they had all crowded around her, Jenette had squealed with excitement, Marcus had begun asking thousands of questions, and Isabella had stood there, just as shocked as Briar was, Constance questioned if it was a joke, and both Logan and Dad just smiled and congratulated Briar.

Anywho, they had all gone out to dinner in celebration, and when Briar had started at Ilvermorny in September, she had felt so grateful that now she had not just her marvelous muggle family, but also her terrific Thunderbird family.

minor Edit needed

Ability (calming presence) approved
Stat total is 35, approved.
You need a first instance of magic. You have until 5/23 to make this edit.

Stat Update for Phylicia Stanwood:
Stamina: 11
Evasion: 9
Strength: 10
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 2
Accuracy: 11

Total = 50 (+2 new stats to wisdom - duelling victories as Bridget, Bridget's stat total (48) +2 stats from Statistically Relevant)

Approved

Amelie Fontaine

Name: Amelie Fontaine School: Ilvermorny Year: Second Year House: Wampus Blood Status: Pure Blood ___________✩✩✩___________

___________✩✩✩___________

Appearance

Amelie is entirely average. Her mousy brown hair fails midway down her back, framing her pale face and slightly rounded cheeks. She’s of average height and size, small enough to blend in with the crowd without going noticed. She’d never been fond of her pale blue eyes – not bright enough to be considered striking. The one thing that makes her stand out from the crowd is the one thing she wishes more than anything to change about herself. A childhood accident with her older brother had left her with a long scar along her face, running below her eye and vertically down to her jaw.

Reducio

Height: 5 foot 1
Weight: 80 pounds
Eyes: Pale blue, bordering on grey
Hair: Long with a slight wave, mousy brown in colour
Scars: A long scar, running across her right cheekbone and nose, stretching down towards her jawline.

Personality

Amelie has always been a quiet girl who worked best alone. Her scarred face often acting as a deterrent to new friends, or as something for her to be bullied about. Because of this, she spent the majority of her young years trying her hardest to slip by unnoticed, focusing on schoolwork and her art. Her mother once told her she had a kind soul, one which anyone would be blessed to befriend; but it was a mother’s word against the world. A world which had made clear that it wouldn’t be kind to Amelie. But her once meek persona, which stopped her from standing up for herself or telling people just what to do with their opinions, came back anew after the summer after she’d turned twelve. She’d vowed to herself, no more being walked on, no more standing idly in the shadows too scared to make a sound. They say “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” and Amelie has nothing to lose.

Self-destructive

Stubborn

Misunderstood

Chaotic

Selfish

Lonely

Sarcastic

History

Reducio

The first time Amelie witnessed death she was six. Her brother had been there for her again, holding her hand at their grandfathers funeral. He’d told her everything wold be okay as long as they had each other.

The first time Amelie used magic she was seven. Her brother had been throwing little pieces of paper at her as they both sat out in the garden and pretended to be listening to their aunt’s story about how a no-maj had almost walked into the wizarding office she worked in. Dean hadn’t been caught by their parents yet, but they’d both given her warning looks. It annoyed her that Dean hadn’t been caught, and as fast as the thought had crossed her mind, the pitcher of water in front of him was tumbling off the table and soaking his chest and legs.

The first time Amelie had a crush, she was eight. Her brother had snuck up behind her and read from her diary over her shoulder. He’d told her she wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend until she was at least thirty-six.

The first time Amelie was heart-broken she was eight and three months. Her brother had offered to come with her to class so he could shout at the younger boy for giving Sophia Parilla a valentines day card instead of Amelie.

The first time Dean couldn’t come to Amelie’s rescue she was nine.

✩✩✩

She was nine when the incident happened. It hadn’t been a particularly memorable day; the sky was cloudy and there was a distinct scent of petrichor which Amelie had once loved. It was early spring, the grass damp with morning dew. It hadn’t deterred the pair of Fontaines from running outside the moment they’d finished breakfast, determined to continue making the tree house they’d started the weekend prior. Their father had called to them that he’d be out soon and not to go too close to the stacks of wood and tools her father had favoured over magic for this particular project. Of course, Amelie and Dean hadn’t heeded his warning, the pair climbing atop timbre like a wrestling arena without a care in the world. It was common for the pair to wrestle, Dean often letting Amelie win just to see the prideful look which flooded her face when she did. they fought, pushing and pulling and tickling, until they were both short of breath. They’d both sank backwards to lay atop the pile of timbre, chests rising and falling in tandem.

Amelie had grinned at her brother wickedly, poking him in the side a final time and whispering the words which had started their impromptu wrestling match that day. “Show me, please.” He was older than here, almost fourteen, and with that meant he’d learnt more than a spell or two. She knew, of course, that he was not supposed to do magic at home, but it was no more than how they were not supposed to fight and clamber and climb.

And it seemed his resolve had finally worn thin, whether it was to finally shut up his little sister and stop her from pestering him, or because he just liked seeing the glint in her eyes when she saw her brother use magic. “Okay, fine. Our secret,” He had whispered, both climbing down from their perch and moving slightly further into the tree-line behind them.

“Come on, Dean, do something interesting,” Amelie whined, lips pouting and eyes going wide in the way they often did when she wanted to get something done her way. Dean said it was unfair when she used it on him, unable to say no to his little sister whenever she caught him with those wide puppy dog eyes. And this time was no different. He took the bait and with a roll of his eyes lifted took his wand out from his jacket pocket.

“Okay, but you asked for it,” He grinned, almost taunted as he called out, “Rictusempra.” The effect was instantaneous, and Amelie was almost doubled over on the floor in laughter. Her giggles were infectious, and Dean found himself smiling at her fondly. Through breaths and laughter, she managed to shout out “stop,” multiple times over. Eventually, he’d concede and let the spell end, Amelie taking two steps backwards.

“That was mean,” She sulked, though the gleam in her eyes was still there, telling him she wasn’t mad. It was almost testing, as if she was daring him to just try and repeat something like that. He raised his wand again and she bolted, weaving between trees with her brother hot on her tail. She found one with particularly thick branches and was quick to start her climb, not that she got more than a few feet off the ground by the time Dean was looking up at her. “No, don’t, please,” she shouted, climbing another foot into the air when she saw that Dean’s wand was still pointed at her.

He opened his mouth, lips forming around the spell when she stepped on a loose branch and slipped, the collar of her shirt getting stuck on the rough bark and holding her captive as she tried to free herself. “Dean, help, I’m stuck, I’m gonna die,” She hurried out, though they were both fully aware that even if she did happen to fall, she could manage the five foot drop. And then they were both laughing again, Dean at her unfortunate situation, and Amelie just because it was what she always did. “Please, De,” she repeated eventually, arms too short to properly reach behind her and free her caught shirt.

And in hindsight, maybe he should have just climbed up after her and released her by hand. And in hindsight, maybe they shouldn’t have been in the trees playing at all. And in hindsight, maybe there were reasons why minors weren’t supposed to be doing magic alone with their little sisters.

He’d been laughing, entirely too distracted to attempt a spell which required so much focus, he should have been paying attention. His guard was down- he’d performed one spell, surely another wouldn’t hurt. But hindsight was just that, and so between bouts of laughter, Dean had raised his wand, pointed it at the collar of her shirt which had been caught by the branch, and called out “Diffindo”.

Time had paused for a moment, Dean’s wand falling to he dirt and Amelie’s eyes widening, before she let out a blood-curdling scream. She jerked her hands up to her face, the action dislodging her caught shirt as if she’d never been stuck in the first place. Or maybe she’d torn it, she didn’t know, it wasn’t the priority. Through his laughter, Dean had missed, striking his sister’s face and leaving a large gash down the entire right side. The last thing Amelie could remember from that day was being lifted into the air to the sound of her brother’s panicked shouts. And then she woke up in a too-hard bed in a too-bright room. They hadn’t wrestled or fought again for almost a year after the accident, and he’d promised not to use magic outside of school again, Dean too scared he’d injure his sister again.

At home, Amelie and her family were extremely close. Her brother was her best friend, and when he’d finally managed to shed the guilt for what he’d done, they’d become impossibly closer than before. Amelie’s mother, a kindly woman who worked with magical creatures, could often be found tending the flowers in the family back garden. Amelie’s father was a chef at a well-renowned no-maj restaurant in the city and when time allowed, would cook lavish meals for the family. Despite their blood lineage, Amelie had always been taught about the importance of respect, having been integrated into the world of the non-magical from the very start.

At elementary school, she’d been ostracised, left alone by many of the other children because she looked different. There’d be rumours as to how her face had been scarred, ranging from a hippogriff attack or a fight with a no-maj, to an unfortunate trip down a stairwell. She’d been nine, the rumours were all obvious nonsense, but children could be cruel, and no one wished to associate themselves with the girl with the strange face. Then she’d started Ilvermorny, and she’d been overcome with excitement at the thought of making new friends; she’d been left disappointed and longing for her earlier years when all children would do was run away when she walked to the playground. Here, with kids much older than her and more children in her entire year than had been at her small primary school, she wished to be left alone. The bullying got worse and her care-free, resilient front she’d managed to build up over the years was continuously chipped away at. Until one day, in the summer before she returned for her second year, she grew bitter and spiteful, and fed up with being treated how she was.

Her return for second year had been dramatic, a few months changing her from a doormat who was walked over, to a sarcastic firecracker ready to go off at anyone who even looked at her funny.

Stats Stamina – 7 Evasion – 9 Strength – 4 Wisdom – 6 Arcane Power – 6 Accuracy – 8 Broom Racer: No Quidditch Player: No Duellist: Yes

Abilities ✩✩✩ Terrible Presence Reducio People always seemed on edge around Amelie, nervous that something bad might happen if they took their eyes off of her for a second. To the girl, it felt like it had been happening all of her life - people avoiding talking to her if at all possible unless it was to thrown an insult or to mock her. But if she was honest with herself, she knew it had started when she was nine. That was when everything seemed to have started. That was when people who had been her friends for her entire life decided that they didn’t want to be around her anymore. That was when family, loving as they were, always seemed to be walking on eggshells around her. That was when Amelie learned what it truly felt like to be alone. She was feared by some, the nasty scar on her face an apparent life sentence to horrified looks for peers and dubious glances from parents who were quick to cross the road with their toddlers hands tightly clasped in their own. She was hated by others, the ‘deformity’ seemingly giving them a free pass to insult and taunt and attack whenever they had the opportunity. Of course it was never when they were alone, she’d never been targeted by just one person, always a group, always enough that if Amelie had decided to retaliate, she would be outnumbered. It was a confusing paradox to be the centre of: too frightening to be protected, but too easy a target to not take advantage of. She sometimes wondered if it was fear itself which drove people to dislike her so much, rather than the innate hatred she always assumed she provoked from people. Or perhaps it was the case that attacking first, knocking her down before she had the chance to start the fight was just the easier thing to do. Either way, she’d learned early on that people were always and would likely always be uneasy around her. She had hoped that moving to a new school would help. New people, who didn’t know her past, where her name wasn’t synonymous with strange and scary. But there had still been the tormentors, even if they were fewer and there were people who looked at her with pity instead of hatred (though the glint of fear persisted). And then she’d decided to simply embrace it. If they thought she was this big, hideous beast, like one parents used to scare their children into behaving, then she might as well act the part. So she’d come back, stronger in self and darker in soul as someone who would no longer take the punishment she got from simply looking different. She’d become the tormenter, no longer the tormented. And her name would come to mean trouble. And she’d give them all something to fear. ✩✩✩ Fearless Reducio Amelie wasn’t one to scare easily. Perhaps it was innate, growing up with an older brother who pushed her to do things she would have otherwise steered clear of if not to prove herself more than anything. Or maybe it was a result of years spent building walls around herself, shutting out those who shunned and berated her. Most likely, it was a combination of both, that the seed had been planted growing up, trying desperately to keep up with her brother, and sprouted the first time she was spited. Whatever had caused the shoot to grow and the roots to dive deeper, whatever had engrained the notion of being unafraid and head-strong and untouchable, had finally caused flowers to bloom on the forest which now surrounded – protected – her mind. It had grown with every taunt, every jibe or push would chip away at her, trying desperately to make her crumble. But with each insult, she grew numb to it, having heard it all before. Scarface. Mistake. Abomination. Children could be cruel and inventive, and for a time she loathed the fact that there was always something new, a new word yet to be thrown at her. Until there wasn’t anymore. Until every word had been used up. Until each slight just acted as another brick to add to the wall around her heart. It was easy to be afraid of the things that go bump in the night when you’d never truly met a monster. A ghost or a ghoul or a creature was always more terrifying if it’s been built up in your head. It was never as bad as one might thing, purely because they weren’t the real monsters. No. The real monsters are hidden amongst us, walking around wearing faces which look like your own and disguising themselves beneath perfect smiles and pretty faces. Amelie knew who the real monsters were. But she wasn’t even afraid of those anymore for once you’ve faced your fears – for every day of every week of years of your life – they just don’t seem quite so scary anymore. Her parents might have worried, if they’d known how desensitised she’d grown. They might have feared, with an irony that the world so often enjoyed, in place of their little girl. But she kept much of it hidden. She never spoke of the trauma she suffered act school from those who were supposed to be her friends. Likewise, she never confided in a professor who’d first thought would be to get her family involved. She didn’t need to. She was strong and independent and no longer afraid. She was fearless.

Approved

Reducio

iNPC update request

Adding more flavor to Jayden's Appearance, Personality, and History. I am changing Jayden's first incidence of magic (skip to the underlined section of History's lengthy read) because I believe a younger age is more appropriate, given her pure-blooded Wampus legacy. If approved, this post will replace the original app and update request. Delete them, cross them out, whatever.

Will save the fancy formatting for my encyclopedia page.

Reducio

She's reached her adult height at 5 feet, 7 inches. Endomorph build, solid and stout as an oak, with a little more pillowy softness to her lightly toned physique, instilling curves in all the right places. She's a healthy slim weight, a few calluses hiding under her palms and soles. A rosy tan usually deepens her fair complexion, reflecting an active and outdoorsy lifestyle. Chestnut brown hair and eyes, noticeable when the sun hits them just right with a reddish hue; otherwise they're unremarkably darker. Her silky straight locks are trimmed at a modest mid-back length, usually tied in a ponytail or braid to keep the strands out of her face.

Her looks are comely, rather than show-stopping. A bit more ruddy and rugged than one would expect from the average pure-blood. While Jayden can speak perfectly eloquent accent-less English in public, particularly to the Brits abroad; or a New York accent to flaunt her big city image; the slight twang of her western accent clings without effort and shines through in a full-on drawl when she's completely relaxed with someone, completing the southern belle charm she radiates.

As with her accent, her wardrobe is fit to match the occasion. At Hogwarts, she represents the high-class wizarding and Muggle societies of her New York city upbringing. While unafraid of pink, lace, makeup, and shiny hair gems, she's less bold in wearing any sort of heel – except the cowboy ones she hides at the bottom of her trunk – or jewelry, finding ornaments a nuisance and necklaces a choking hazard.

Far from the reach of her New York relatives, Jayden tinkers with freedom of expression at Hogwarts. Boot cut jeans and plaid flannel shirts – her favorite. Leather fringe vest and prairie skirt. Deerskin and gingham dresses. Cowboy hat and authentic coonskin cap (that she made herself, excluding the gory details). A colorful blend of Wild West fashion… Aside from the modern-looking ball cap, dog tags, and camouflage jacket oddly jumbled in.

A little sus for a New York city-slicker. Someone who's supposed to be, anyway.

• Stamina: 5
• Evasion: 6
• Strength: 4
• Wisdom: 10
• Arcane Power: 10
• Accuracy: 10

• Year 1: Perfectionist

• Year 2: Perfectionist 2

• Year 3: Fearless

Approved but please remember to not have information conflict with what was previously written (and approved) like your first instance of magic changing to being something at the age of 4 months rather than when your brother was born. What you have here is going to stick moving forward so if new information conflicts with this, it will have to be removed.

Everett Brooks Update

Reducio

Listed Updates:

• Picture, slightly older. What a man.
• All appropriate age & year things from 1st year to 2nd year. (except his birthday is in November so he's still 12, RIP)
• Appearance description to match him now.
• Updated Stat Points.

|| Name || Everett "Rett" Brooks
|| Age || 12
|| School Year || 2nd Year
|| House|| Horned Serpent
|| Race || Human
|| Blood Status || Pureblood

|| Appearance || Everett is an ever poised boy, yet lanky and awkward through the glorious years of puberty. He's only grown to 167cm over the past year, though he's still rather tall anyway. He keeps his brown hair well kept and swept to the side, but throughout the day it can often get mussed up from his own fiddlings. Image is important to him so he always makes sure that he is looking his best. His green eyes pierce into any gaze that he makes contact with, making sure they know to keep their distance. But they soften for a select few that have managed to get close to him and his heart.

|| Personality || As someone that grew up in the south he follows southern hospitality conduct to his core. He is incredibly polite, even if it can come off as condescending. He is respectful to the professors and adults around him, and of course holds the door open for the ladies even though he's not particularly interested in them. He strives to excel in his classes taking extra time than the average student to study and prepare his homework, he does have a reputation to uphold after all.

|| History || Everett Brooks was born on November 3rd, 2008 to two parents (Jacob and Bethany Brooks) in Atlanta, Georgia. He comes from a long line of wizards, their family holding a lot of power in the South. He still wasn't exactly sure what his father did, as he wasn't allowed to talk to him about his work. All he knew is that after he would graduate Ilvermorny he would be trained to take his father's place, whatever that meant. His mother was a stay at home mom but mostly kept to herself on the hobby that would take her interest for a couple weeks. This forced Everett to become largely independent, doing his own research on topics that he was interested and self reliant for entertainment. While he is perfectly okay being alone, he really does want to be around others seeking his next great adventure while he still has the time and freedom to do so. Secretly he hopes to later become a writer in life rather than taking over the family business, but for now that is just as fantasy as the books he often reads.

Everett Brooks

|| Stats ||
Stamina || 10
Evasion || 8
Strength || 6
Wisdom || 7
ArcPower || 5
Accuracy || 7
+3 Points for 2 Quidditch Wins & 1 Duelling Win

Ability || Charmer

Reducio

It was no secret in the US that the South was known for their charm and hospitality. This didn't stop when it came to Everett. In his pureblood family they had raised him from an early age to be an exemplary practitioner of this. There was no lady that would open her own door around him, no person to be left unescorted if they needed assistance wherever they needed to go. He was quite the, well... charmer.

His smile left grandmas pinching his cheeks, and girls his age developing the cutest of young crushes on him. Although, he always had to politely turn them down due to his early discovery of his gayness. It really didn't come as surprise to anybody around him and he was lucky to be in a supportive environment, but generally he was still in the closet for the most part in his town. This almost added to his charm, the unattainable preppy boy. People tried to get him to crack, to be his first girlfriend, but they never succeeded and they always seemed to leave feeling dazed by his soft words and silver tongue. He was a horned serpent after all.

In addition to his training in politeness and grace, he also spent unending hours in his families library, reading anything that he could get his hands on. Which wasn't hard, his library was huge and he was lucky enough to have the wealth that could get him any additional book at the snap of his fingers. This only lent a hand when it came to Everett's smooth talking and expansive vocabulary. Romance novels taught him to be suave, how to pull a girl in. Granted, they were adult tactics that he had to mold to suit his childish desires. A signature of his was greeting someone new with a kiss upon their hand if they let him. No gender was safe from this greeting, he believed anyone should get the joy of being pulled in by him. Not just the ladies.

Everett already had a pretty big ego for someone his age. Growing up with people around him giving him such high praise for such little things gave him the confidence he needed to glide through life without a care. Granted, he was learning the hard way that he could definitely trip up and fail in making relationships with others. Learning how to interact had been a slippery slope, but even then he managed to charm his way out of nearly every awkward situation. Or, if all else failed, just never spoke to that person again.

Word Count || 432

Approved

Stat update (43) total.
Approved charmer application.

Reducio

In need of Edit/Approval

We need more length to the abilities as the word count is not met.
There appears to be betrothals and a disappearance regarding Aurelia that are relevant to this character. Please obtain approvals for your character update from Index for that aspect of your character to be approved.
Stat total is 52, the +2 would be from statistically relevant once approved.

We are leaving edits open until 5/23