| MAIN | They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense |
Character's Legal Name: Cirilla Fleur Delacour
Age: Fifteen, Fifth Year
Hogwarts House: Slytherin
Blood Type: Pureblood, Tainted
Species: Part Veela (how much Veela, I left open to admin's decision)
Face claim: Taylor Momsen
| APPEARANCE | ...Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig |
A petite wisp of a girl that can enter the room as a force as subtle as a breeze or as intense as a whirlwind. Cirilla supports a slim frame wrapped with a surprising - though not quite remarkable (appropriately - in comparison to a more completely developed adult), degree of wiry muscles, toned from her childhood in the treetops, and from her best efforts as a child to aid her mother in all household chores and other such necessities. Though not entirely sure how tall she will yet grow, (as her mother before her - from which she had inherited much of her appearance - though, she could not accurately access which physical traits she had truly inherited from her biological father in his absence from her life - had been a small child, but had upon further development later in her adolescent life, sprouted many inches above the average woman's height) she has no true evidence to sway her beliefs that she will inherit this too, from her mother's side, or to think otherwise.
When she moves it tends to be smooth while controlled, little effort wasted (a becoming, and naturally occurring behavior which is often mistaken for confidence on first glance, something which could not be any further from the reality of Cirilla's true insecurity) - feeling lucky, almost as though she had dodged a great tragedy, that she too has not been cursed as many in her year have, to lumber awkwardly about, gangly and clumsy, for the entirety of her adolescent life; in this instance, thankful to the point of great relief for the small packaging that she had been neatly bundled up in, and delivered to age fifteen.
Controlled, of course, unless thrown into any situation not resembling her familiar comfort zone – which, to be honest, is far more common these days during her Fifth Year education. While she rarely drops her gaze when confronting others she does find herself overwhelmed when meeting theirs straight-on and has the habit of breaking eye contact. A quirk she tries to fight but has yet to overcome.
When she smiles, which is often, her whole visage brightens. Her rich brown eyes, full lips, and soft curve of her brows tend to betray her surface emotions with no need for effort to read them on her audience's part (both a curse, and a gift when looked upon in the right light; these qualities making Cirilla a better actress - one ambition among an ocean of many others - in regards, at least, to easily conveying emotion - than, say, her more reserved, or stoic counterpart). She also has only recently found that she blushes far too easily; the warm rose blooms across her cheeks amidst her fair skin and a faint dusting of freckles.
A trait that can greatly affect how some may observe her, is her hair, like that of the ef·fer·ves·cent unicorn, this identifying trademark of her Delacour, Veela heritage a stunning sight of elegance. This trait, her every ashen strand, is the only that has been touched by her part Veela blood, and which Cirilla has found, in her only two experiences thus far in her adolescence with the powerful sway of this uncontrolled Veela ability (which has only exposed itself to her on two, purely accidental occasions), greatly intimidates her in her youthful innocence. An innocence, at least, in regards to romantic encounters, if nothing else.
As far as her manner of dress, she presently prefers layers - airy fabrics coupled with heavy (knock-you-out-cold-if-ever-swung-at-with heavy) knit pieces, as well as anything with an air of elegance or an edge of sophistication. While away from Hogwarts on Holiday or over summers (away from any prying, or eager to judge Slytherin eyes; when Cirilla was more prone to reveal her more honest and preferred sense of style; an entirely more practical way of dress, its allowance for free movement and tree climbing a compromise for the graceful attire that her peers had made her more familiar with) thick / chunky boots, laces, buckles, and well worn, flexible leather are some of her attire's more frequented accessories. For her mother and two brothers had never once cared how she looked, only how accurate her spells were and how aggressively she could fly.
This way of dress, of course, in stark contrast with what an outsider, or her fellow student, might associate with the girl; the look with which they had now become accustomed to spying her in at Hogwarts (besides her mandatory uniform, of course), this side of her style depending greatly on the ebb and flow of fashion trends among her more financially gifted and sophisticated peers (children of her age, not limited to her house or status as a witch or person of magic ability). Clothing more along the lines of such: delicate, dangling jewelry, her preference being to silver over gold as according to the trends of the coming Winter months, stacked upon too-tight, grating fabrics bearing labels that boast pricey, elitist brands that felt as though they clung to her in every single way that it shouldn't (though, in truth this style suited her elegant part-Veela features far more nicely than her honest sense of style ever could to her fellow students), heels of ankle-breaking heights and headbands.
The practices of keeping her hair shiny and her wardrobe up-to-date inevitably fell to the wayside in favor of keeping her broom strong and her eyes sharp until the necessity and importance of such things had been cruelly thrust upon her by her peers upon her arrival at Hogwarts in her Acceptance in to Hogwarts (for she had, before her acceptance, spent her childhood in solitude, whilst not playing alongside her two older brothers), as well as the Second, Third, and Fourth Year that followed. Fashion trends and the vanity of 'beauty' maintenance suddenly demanded much of her attention, and had instantaneously become a great source of her insecurity in herself - but she had learned by means of mimicry impressively quick, out of necessity, of course, she had managed to convince herself with the persuasive assistance of peer pressure.
But her mother had been and continues to be immensely supportive of these sudden, and ever-swaying whims, despite her wisdom in the subject (her knowledge that Cirilla would soon grow out of her need to impress by means of designer clothing or popular trend shortly after when she would truly find herself with the ending of her adolescence, and the introduction of her adulthood), taking on not her second, but third position in the Wizarding World to provide her only daughter with what the child now felt critical in her attempts to fit in among her fellow young women.
| PERSONALITY | ......If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him |
Cirilla is an aspiring social climber, though easily intimidated. And while she physically resembles her many female Delacour predecessors, bearing the sir name and heritage like a badge with her facial features and unmistakable ashen hair, she often tries to fit in with the rich-girl clique, which makes up a small portion of her peers at Hogwarts (almost in spite of the obvious nature of her ancestry; The infamous Beauxbatons Veela women & the Blood-Traitor Weasleys - what an excellent place to begin in Slytherin - what were her family trying to do, turn her into a social outcast, after all?). This, being the perspective of a young and impressionable child simply trying to fit in, or to be liked by everyone, only.
While she trembled with every critical and high-intensity social interaction, or conversation with her popular superiors, she now feels it would be a death sentence, to disclose how shaky her confidence really is - as well as how obsessively aware she is that she doesn’t (yet she told herself) so much as hold a place in their social world. For even if she were to be socially forgiven by her peers for her Blood Traitor (a pair of words that had brought young Cirilla to tears on many an occasion - a worthy insult from any foe) family, being from a middle-class household (which by many of the more financially gifted students' - those who were, anyhow - standards could easily be considered "poor"), Cirilla's attempts at achieving popularity seemed to her to be almost entirely hopeless.
But you wouldn't know by her efforts. Young and painfully insecure, yet spunky and driven to get what she wants, little "Ciri" often goes to wild and embarrassing lengths (not socially of course - no{i] that would be the [/i]death of her - but rather, in regards to the compromise of her own moral value) to begin to attempt to set up for herself an image of absolute confidence, a cruel temperament towards those dubbed "weak" or "inferior" by her pressuring peers, and class. Behaviour which causes much consternation for her well-meaning and protective brothers.
The irony of this brand new mimicked behavior (where ever did she copy that from, her parents wondered) that Cirilla had thus far been, for the entirety of her fifteen years of life, a particularly humble being, who had never once shown evidence of paying any consideration to blood purity, financial or social status to her parents. Not once had the girl as a child, before her teens, ever shown any interest in participating in such bullying, prejudice or snap judgment.In fact, the only review of the rather unremarkable girl that Gabrielle had ever received had always been, word for word, "What a sweet girl she is. Far too impressionable, though. Best watch after that one close." Had the sweet, impressionable young witch turned for the worst under such negative peer influences? Or was this seemingly out of character behavior simply a lesson in crowd-pleasing gone sour?
Anyone who truly knew sweet young child knew better than to ever assume the former; Gabrielle had never once identified a single bigoted bone in Cirilla as a child, casual or otherwise (though, unbeknownst to her mother, Ciri's moral compass was quickly becoming compromised), nor was she some blood prejudiced fool. As a child, Ciri had been sugar, spice and everything nice, straight to her core. Even, if it seemed, this was no longer entirely the case anymore. She was simply too impressionable. Those who had known her as a child would often tell Gabrielle that this was "only a phase"; this was "only an attempt to fit in, to be loved" - for this had always been all that little Cirilla had ever wanted of everyone. [u]But, those who had known little Ciri as a child, certainly did not know her now.
Cirilla is a girl who drinks in the light of the moon and the stars like she can use it to fuel the silver edges of her veins. Where her brother is viciously attacking paper with more colours than Cirilla could ever care to imagine and the other (her second brother) is singing in a language that she can only understand snatches of, Cirilla is clutching stacks of novels with titles such as __________ and poring over every word like if she stares hard enough at the way the ink is imprinted onto the page, then she can find everything she's looking for.
She's going to be a renowned witch, an esteemed professor, a famous musician - her dreams seemed to change with each passing age. But no matter which would outweigh the rest when she inevitably reached the end of her slow (or so it seemed in the eyes of a newly teenaged girl) maturing, she is certainly going to be the best that anyone's ever seen, according to her wild ambitions. She would one day land upon the It suits her, like singing, or painting suits her pair of brothers.
Anyone who knows the teenaged Cirilla of the present-day - and even people who don't - knows that she has always had an unnecessary flair for the dramatic that spills out of every inch of her skin, seethes out of her throat and into a black cloud of energy. Ciri is a girl like a black hole who absorbs all the light around her and spits out poison instead.
She wants that. She likes it. Ciri thrives off praise, love, and acceptance among her peer group, and does not take negative criticism lightly (internalising and converting into insecurity, every bad thing that has ever been spoken about the young girl). Cirilla also likes to hold people at arm's length and then pull them close when she feels like they're getting too far away from her. She wants people to like her, needs people to like her, and she clutches just the right amount of charm in her tiny hands to hook people in and drag them closer to her.
It is how she gets away with falling into step with someone she's never talked to before as if they've been friends for years, or the way the words sorry or thank you have never willingly left her lips but she glosses past all of those things as though she has some otherworldly right to. Maybe sometimes she'll reluctantly apologise to someone because she has to. Ciri cannot lose people, and she cannot distance herself from people altogether either - she requires (and thrives on) acceptance like her heart requires blood. There is a grand, overwhelming part of her that wants to become all of these characters and act cheerful and friendly with people, and be like that, and play into them so intrinsically that they have to like her, and part of her (inherently more stubborn) that wants people to like her because she says they have to.
Ciri doesn't like it when people don't like her. In fact, it makes any small ounce of confidence that might have arisen amongst her all-consuming insecurity in her mimicry of the more popular and well-liked fellow students, shrivel up beside her fears and self-consciousness - because she didn't say that they couldn't like her. And because damn it, she tries so hard.
Cirilla Delacour is the kind of girl who has a list of things she wants to achieve in the next five years, and by the stubborn insistence of her wild ambition, she's going to go through them all and tick off every last one of them, no matter what. Even if she screams until her throat is raw, even if she loses parts of herself to it all. Ciri takes herself very seriously, as a matter of fact. Now, if only she had the confidence to back it all up.
| HISTORY | ..................Hey! My eyes aren't 'glistening with the ghosts of my past'! |
Early Years and Hogwarts History: The first things Ciri remembers is her brother singing, the smell of paint, the way she was screaming at the pair of boys one sunny afternoon when the light came in rectangles through the window. Ciri remembers the first day she started school and how she stood in the door of the classroom looking around at all of the other children and decided that she would be loved by all of them. She made a lot of friends as a child and made it her mission to persuade anyone who didn't want to like her.
Ciri remembers the taste of red wine, heavy in her mouth, just like she remembers ducking under the table during dinner and trying not to get caught on the coffee, crayon, and dirt spotted tablecloth, which had, in some unimaginable past, been a new, pristine white color (this was not due to a lack of capacity for cleaning on Gabrielle's part, but was, rather, in spite of her best efforts to keep the cloth clean in the midst of paint stained, muddy, sugar-sticky children's digits. She remembers when the table wasn't being used for anything, and they would huddle underneath it and Ciri would share what she stole, from the kitchen, from their mother's jewellery box, from the garden.
Ciri remembers her first stage, standing in the center of it and staring out at the lights and the shadows of the audiences. It was her first concert, and her last concert in France, because not long after that, they moved to England. Or more accurately: not long after that, her father, whom she had never met, died. Something Ciri only knew from a memory that stuck out, and pricked her mind like the spike of one of her mother's missing sewing needles, hidden in the sofa's cushions ; the way that her mother had collapsed along the wall (where she had, for as long as Ciri could remember, documented every inch of the children's ever-changing heights) in a crumpled, broken heap on that very same kitchen floor, the rebellious spiral cord of the phone that had delivered this news knocking repeated, and violently against the wall as it fell, and mother sobbed like she herself was dying. She was seven at the time, and it felt like the end of the world, and everyone acted like it was too, despite her never having ever known him.
Ciri remembers seeing her mother cry. Ciri remembers crying too, and screaming at the funeral at the unfairness of it all; of the bitter sting of knowing that she would never have a movie-worthy, touching reunion with the man when she inevitably reached her twenties and began her journey in "soul searching". What Ciri doesn't remember is when everyone stopped feeling like it was the end of the world.
Ciri just remembers leaving France and their village, and their school, and everything else that she knew behind. She can remember the first glimpse of England, the green, the rolling fields that stretched for miles in the countryside, spreading out around hills, the way everyone around her sounded so funny and different. She remembers the house they lived in, with their grandparents, and how she explored every dust filled inch of it with her "remaining brother", because the eldest wasn't there anymore.
Ciri remembers when their eldest brother left for school and she screamed and cried more because she didn't want her brother to go, but she couldn't change anything, and she felt completely powerless until she just had to get used to it just being the three of them, and clinging to her eldest brother whenever he came back for the holidays. What Ciri also remembers is how the next year, her next brother went off to school with him, and left her there all by herself. Ciri screamed more, and cried more, but nothing brought her siblings back.
Her mother, much too soon, left too - this, she remembered, more than anything. When her Grandparents' house changed its shape, from small and warm to big and sad and empty. When Mother taught her how to make spaghetti and to use the microwave and read her favorite bedtime story and the tearful "please stop crying, Ciri. I can't stay. You know this. I have to go to work". On particularly long days alone, Ciri feared that she too had gone off and died.
It was another three years before Ciri got a Hogwarts letter of her own.
So Ciri remembers Hogwarts as a first year, and the three grade levels that followed. She remembers sleeping on her brothers on her first train journey (and every train ride that followed) and being sorted - "I don't like you, so you should put me where I want. I'm not like either of my brothers, and I will be insulted if you put me in their houses" and sitting in a new dust filled world that she could explore with both siblings. Whether or not she's decided she likes it is a different matter entirely.
She remembers her every subject, her first Quidditch match as a Third Year Slytherin, and a couple of Holidays at Hogwarts with both of her brothers in between. She remembers shopping for supplies in Diagon Alley with her second-born brother, after the eldest had graduated, and getting on the train for another year; a somber feeling settling over both of them, together, as they mourned the absence of their elder sibling.
Finally, Ciri had decided whether or not she liked it - and she hoped that there was a life a head of her that would be better than this. Little did she know, that this would be her most adventure-filled year yet. And that she just may have made up her mind a little too swiftly after all.
| Out of Character | I'm Harry's half-sister, Dumbledore's daughter, Voldemort's niece, Sirius' cousin, Snape's daughter and Lupin's great grandmother... |
What should we call you: Nona
RP Experience: 5+ Years
How you found us: as per a friend's recommendation
Main Character (we'll PM you on this account): Senona Brânduşa
by Cirilla Delacour Wed Oct 05, 2016 6:59 am
(I decided to refer to her siblings in a rather vague manner - I only referred to two brothers, without names or ages - so not to conflict with any other Delacour siblings that might be created in the future by other members, etc This is also why I chose not to mention the siblings, or anyone other than my character here being the child of the absent father who passed - so that, if the other canons available in the Delacour family choose to create Gabrielle or the other siblings that they wouldn't be bound to the concept that their father passed; they could choose to say that the other siblings were born to a different father than Cirilla, since I never mentioned her late biological father's name, etc)
