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EISLINN GERTRUDE DARLING
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MUGGLE BORN - HUFFLEPUFF - SEVENTH - anne marie van dijk
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His name is Daniel and he calls me Wendy because of my last name and my lust for adventure. I am almost eleven the sun has settled, and my mother is late coming home again. He tells me we can be friends forever but in true Wendy fashion I tell him, "Forever is an awfully long time." But he is persistent and I am not a fan of such a quality. He kisses me declaring me his forever but I am sure he has an askew definition of what a kiss really is. A kiss does not mean that I am his forever, right? The world to him is what he defines it as such and he has no time or patience for anyone else's theory including mine. I hit him, I am only ten, but I am a force to be reckoned with. "Daniel Sanders, that is not what a kiss means!" I am sure it is true and he sulks away declaring his hate for me. I form my own askew definition of boys: They can be so fickle and rather awful to be friends with. I ask mother if Daniels definition is true but she is tired and shrugs it off. Late shifts at the factory have put a strain on our relationship. Father belongs to the British army and we haven't heard from him in the last seven months and we have fallen on hard times. Mother does not want to fail me and so she works until she can no longer work anymore. I feel sorry for her and I am forever in her debt, grateful for the life she has given me. Daniel is still a boy but I have long ago grown up because of the weight of the world upon my shoulder.
I grew up with the tattered books of Jane Austen and the like. They were hand- me- downs from my mother. When she was a little girl growing up of wealth and prestige her nanny would bring her the books. She turned into a hopeless romantic and when a man by the name of Henry came to her door, a poor Irish law student, she fell for him. As unconventional it was she left the life she was accustom to and moved to the country side. They were happy until the first World War came and he joined the war leaving her to relocate to the city in search for a job. In the twenty nine years they had known each other they had spent a max of two years together and in that time I was born. Sweet and Beautiful or so my mother would say.
I hate war, I hate the word hate, and I hate death. But I am who I am because of the people around me and my mother being the biggest impact. I am whimsical, light-hearted, a hopeless romantic, a best friend, a story teller, and so much more then even I can foresee. Their are moments that impact our lives and while some are tragedies its the moments that take our breath away that count. I am impatient, giddy, hard to handle, and indecisive. I am the future where life is not hopeless but meant to be lived. I want to be an actress, a singer, a potions master, a carpenter, a historian, a dragon keeper and so much more. I have dreams but they change with each day. Some call me childish, a bit naive, but I call it as someone who is different.
I leave mother behind and father (wherever he is) for a school that celebrates whoever I am. The man in the robes tells me I am a witch and that soon I will be in a school that will teach me to use my magical abilities to its fullest potential. Mother does not want me to go but she cannot decide my course of life. They say small children cannot possibly understand the cruelties of this world and the hardships that grown-ups face but I understand. I understand that mother will be relieved to know that I am taken care of. I understand that she will not have one more mouth to worry about and she will only have to fend for herself and when father comes home he will tend to her and take care of her the way she deserves. She does not want to let me go but I insist that it is for the best. She smiles faintly and nods because she understands that it is whats best for me.
I believe myself to be mature well before my time but what I do not understand is the love of a parent for a child. Mom misses me, she missed me the day I left, and she cried for days on end. She lost a child so young. Only eleven years with her baby girl and while I thought I was easing the burden from her she felt guilty and alone. I do not understand a lot of things the way I want too. I write her all the time. I write father sometimes too. He writes back with ease and love but its detached and awkward. He is a stranger who I would most likely not recognize.
I am easy to befriend, trustworthy to the core, and loyal. I want to know the world like the back of my hand. I idealize love and I want people to be perfect even though I am not perfect. I find happiness in the most odd places. I am un lady like, I talk out of turn, I'd rather get my hands dirty then be trapped in a tangle of dress assortments. It seems, however, I have come to Hogwarts with a bright future but instead I became a mockery of pure bloods elitist and other house prejudice. But I have made friends and even though it is my last year, I feel like a child still. Easy to please and fantasizes my grown up life.
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<br>OOC House: Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw
<br>Limits: bring all the shnazzy drama on!
<br>How did you find us: Caution 2.0
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Sometimes it's good to reread old books, if only for the nostalgia it evoked. If indulgence were the word of the day then she could only name one besides chocolate and the ever incandescence lure of junk food and its name was Peter Pan. Ivy still heard the faint echoes of Jutka's voice late at night. Ivy still remembered two things even if it had been more than nine years since the first reading of the book: The directions to the Neverland, which never allowed her to get here no matter how many times she tried ("Second to the right, and then straight on till morning" was a curious way to give directions, Ivy had thought at the time), and the magical possibility of reviving a fairy. An indulgence for Ivy would have been to live as Peter Pan. She wanted to smile at his accusatory french fry but instead quickly put a stop to it- she could not become friends with this boy- What would her friends say? Better yet what would her father think? Her thoughts drifted for a mere second at the fun idea of bringing a Spanish boy home- one with no ties and nothing of worth (in her father's eyes) the look of disappointment and shame quickly shattered the prospect of the idea being fun. She wanted so badly to have him proud of her- it was quite sad. Ivy felt insecure under his gaze, so long she had been wanting for someone to look at her like he was, and now she was wondering how others handled it. Adverting eye contact she smiled (more so to herself), [color=ff325d]"I suppose you could be the tiniest bit right but as a child my only indulgence had been reading and painting."
It felt odd for Ivy to share that much in fact it was odd for her to share any information at all not just with the Foreman boy but her own friends. No one was that curious of Ivy Collins so it never came into play. "And yes, junk food is not the best indulgence but one day I'll have to give it a go," it was more of a statement to herself that one day she would be a stronger person and she would have the courage to do as she pleased. The senior in heels and a perfect posture took another bite of her salad. She enjoyed salads. However, she was not in love with the item of choice but learned to appreciate its healthy benefits. Most girls were like her chewing down on something that did not carry more than a certain number of calories and while Ivy craved be so much more, she could not help but compare herself to other girls.
The view was something ethereal and no where else on the campus displayed such a sight. The world was magnificent full of life, colors, and emotions. However, she wanted more then the sight of beautiful New Hampshire set in the winter time for she had witnessed it the last seventeen years of her life. Ivy wanted to ignore him, he was quite a chatterbox, and without verbal consciousnesses she told him such, "You talk a lot don't you?" It was not meant to be mean and yet at the same time she wished it would come off that way to him- there was not a need for friendship to form between them even if she were intrigued by him. After all the blond with bright green eyes was daddy's little girl and she was very obedient to his every whim. "The snow is nice within the first couple of times you see it and after at that I fear the wonder and amazement will kick into agonizing resentment. Winter just is not my season." It is because of her powers she says this. She thrives in the spring and summer when plants come to life and there is something enchanting about creating flowers with every step she takes. Winter inhibits such a thrill inside her because everything is white- just like the four walls of her cage (her bedroom) back at home. She also enjoys dresses and laying in the grass. She misses the green pastures and roses (which is the iconic flower of her).
Ivy felt the question escape before she had time to conceal it. But it was the truth East kingston Academy had been the most exotic place she had been too and she wished so badly to trade places with the boy sitting across from her. A small silence filled the air before she spoke again, [color=ff325d]"I here Time Square is amazing and even more so at Christmas time." She wanted to tell him that he was lucky but Ivy held her tongue this time- wasn't she supposed to be the lucky one? With connections, wealth, and the fact she was going to be a graduate of London House with the promise of being accepted into any college. But in her eyes it did not seem so. Ivy wanted so badly to ignore the Foreman boy but could not- she found it irresistible to have someone to talk to who was not shallow and only cared about school drama. There had to be more to life then who shagged who.
She lifted an eyebrow at his charming demeanor,[color=ff325d] "Are trying to flirt or do you normally look and smile at people that intently? It's sort of creepy, you should work on that." For Ivy the way he was acting was not at all creepy in fact it made her feel special to say the least. The sun was setting and yet she felt more awake then she had when she first came in here. Ivy finished her salad and set it to the side. Silence filled the air and she was glad at this. She peeked up at him from her drawing of the frosted winter lands only to discover he had finished the burger and fries and in Ivy's eyes it was quite remarkable. One day she would have to indulge in such a thing. Ivy watched him as he left making sure that as soon as he turned around she would be busy with her sketch book. Ivy wondered what it would be like between them if status was not a big deal to her father and to this school.
The silence broke and she turned to him, "I suppose I do. My father thinks its a waste of time but I would call it an 'indulgence'- a healthy dose of freedom during a hectic day." She stopped to look back down at her unfinished work which did not seem perfect enough, "However, I'm a bit of a perfectionist so it aggravates me when I cannot get every single detail right." Ivy did not want to reply on his life, she did not want to know any more then what he had already shared, they were not friends, and therefore there was no need for personal exchange between them- she could only give him a mediocre conversation. Once they were done using the table they would leave in silence to never speak again...is that not how it was suppose to be between a Foreman boy and a London girl? And yet she wanted him to dig deeper into her personal life and he his- she wanted to know more about him- it was strange.
IF THIS IS YOUR FOURTH OR MORE CHARACTER, PLEASE LINK TO A COMPLETED THREAD PER EXISTING CHARACTER.