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Weasley, Rhoswen; Ravenclaw Seventh Year
Topic Started: Jul 22 2006, 09:26 PM (151 Views)
Rhoswen Weasley
Member Avatar
Blacked Out in Brooklyn
Ravenclaw Student
CHARACTER DOCUMENTATION
Character Name: Rhoswen Kiora Maire Weasley
Character Nickname: Roz
Character Age: 17
Character Year: Seventh
House/Alumni: Ravenclaw

Physical Appearance: “First off, let me begin by saying I have a love for talking about myself. It’s one of the more interesting subjects in my life and well, I just can’t help but have it be appealing, seeing as I’m only a whole lot biased. I got hit with a decent branch versus an ugly tree or pretty stick, so I’m not all pleased with my looks but I don’t hate them either. My hair has been recently cut, styled in a form that is usually mussed. It used to be on the lengthy side, but I decided I wanted a change, and low and behold, it looks better short. It’s a dark reddish colour, with some natural brown lowlights that last all year and can only be seen in the perfect light. I like my hair, and whether or not it is ‘the best hair ever’ doesn’t really matter to me, I don’t care.

Back to the bit about the ugly tree and decent branch. Most of my family aren’t offensive in the face region, though many of us could stand to be better. Don’t scoff or give me those dirty looks, they are a plain Jane lot and I’ll admit it. It is kind of sad that we pretty much all share this view, but on our opinion, nobody is perfect, and if we were then life would be one boring hell of a mess. I have rather symmetrical features, dainty mouth but with decently full lips, a straight nose that’s not too long. It might be a tad bit on the lengthy side, but in my defense, things could’ve been a lot worse. My eyes, oh I love those. They’re this really icy blue colour and just so scrumptious! My chin is strong but not too masculine, thank the gods, and combined with high cheekbones, viola, instant person not horrible to look at.

Just add water.

On top of all that, I’m on the pale and lean side. Not sticklike thin, but well, let’s just say I can squeeze myself into a size 2 without bits getting squished or looking deformed from extra bagginess. I have curves to fill out the clothes I wear, and though I developed on the later side, it was all in good time. I know a few girls who still are rather, er…let’s just say that they have two backs, shall we? So yes, that’s me in a nice neat little package!”

Personality and Traits: “Oh trust me, you don’t want to go there. If you thought I ranted and raved about how I looked, then you haven’t even hit the tip of the iceberg yet. Please don’t make me… Oh, well, do I absolutely have to? Yeah? Damn, well, pity for all you poor sods reading this, if you’re not just skimming because if you are, good for you! You’ve got some brains in that oversized-…I mean *shifty eyes* perfectly average sized head.

So, some say I have the mental capacity of a four year old. I find this to be a compliment. Four year olds tend to have tons more fun than anyone I know and well, while their vocabulary might not be filled with words such as ‘recalcitrant’ or ‘antidisestablishmentarianism,’ they do have a knack for inventing their own languages and using them on a daily basis, which is more often than I use either of those two words.

Well no, wait…

Antidisestablishmentarianism

Antidisestablishmentarianism.

Antidisestablishmentarianism.

Antidisestablishmentarianism.

There, now I used it four times and who cares if it was used in correct context? Not me! Point is, and yes, I am quite capable of making points, if you want to insult me, do it by calling me boring or having the mentality of a sperm whose only goal is to make it to an egg, insert itself in it, not bother to ask for directions and most of them up and die in seven days anyway.

Or we could pretend I did not just compare myself to sperm, that might make things a lot nicer in the mental image department.

So on top of me loving the fact that my mentality is close to that of a toddler, I also happen to possess certain qualities that might not categorize me as an insane spaz. Ah yes, the ever awaiting secret passion. Writing…no, with the way I rant and rave I’m lucky if I can string a sentence or two together properly! Painter…if by paint you mean stick figures and bits of things I like to call ‘abstract’ art simply because I can’t remember what I’d been aiming for, then sure. No, I have a simpler passion, one that many a girl dreams at night. I want to be, an anthropologist!

Okay, that’s a lie, even though anthropology is fun, and for you people who are not friendly with the scientific or big words of the world, that means the study of the origin, behaviour; and physical, social, and cultural development of humans. *nods* Mmhm!

But no, I want to be a singer. I sing in the shower, walking between classes, in the common room, in the dorm, and sometimes in class if I use ‘Muffliato.’ I really like to sing my own songs and perhaps one day I can make it in the music world. My father thinks it’s a wonderful idea, not wanting to associate with the public norm and choose a profession at which I might fail several times before succeeding. Yup, kind of like dad. I think it’s because I am so like dad that mum doesn’t seem to have an issue with it either. But when I told my grandmother (mum’s mum) she flipped! I think she really did want me to be an anthropologist…

Ah, so yes, you know what I want to be when I ‘grow up,’ however unlikely that might be, and I’m not even finished yet!

Oh wait, yes I am! o.0”

Background/Family History: “Hmm, not much to say here… Oh how I LIE! I’m horrible, I deserve to be punished! Stick me in a rounded room and tell me to sit in the corner, I swear I’ll walk around until I find one! Oh, wait, can I go into one of those all white and padded rooms with the pillows on the walls and floor that let me bounce around and take a nap where I please? Can I have one of those special jackets that makes me hug myself because I love myself SOOOO much? Huh? Pretty, pretty, please, with sugar and arsenic…er, I mean, cherries on top? NO?! Well fine, see if I ever give you cherries again! *looks for arsenic*

I’ve only ever had one serious relationship. His name was Robert, Bob for short. I cuddled up to him every night and fell asleep all warm in his embrace. Ah it was so nice. Ever since I was brought home from the hospital we were together, inseparable. That is, until I was about ten and my dog chewed a huge hole in him! Yes, Bob was my blankie, and I fully admit it. I loved my blankie, and I miss it dearly. We still have what’s left of him up in the attic in some box or another. And the dog, who was named Arloff, is long since six feet under, I forgave him after a month or so. And when he kicked it, I cried. Mostly because he took Bob’s place in my bed after the ‘incident.’

About Bob being the only serious relationship I’ve ever had, this is, sadly, entirely true. I’ve never really had much of a boyfriend…not that I haven’t dated, just everyone bores me or they just get too grabby and I tell them to sod off and well, they usually end up hooking up with some poor chit from another house who ends up sobbing her eyes out when she realizes he didn’t love her. Yes, I’d prefer to not have to deal with the annoyance that is the male gender. Most of the lot are as dull as grey underpants, which are extremely dull and if you own a pair you should burn them.

Guys smell weird too, and never seem to be able to divert the topic of conversation from themselves, so suffice it to say, I will be doing no snogging and groping and full frontal naked dances with anyone who can’t at least talk about music, books, art or just anything that does not revolve around them, their friends, or the penises that for some reason have become no longer associated with their physical anatomy and are people of their own rights, thoughts, and minds. Don’t as me, guys are strange, and while I may be strange for a girl, at least I don’t run off naming my breasts and acting as if they’re people instead of parts of my body that get ogled from time to time.

I got into Ravenclaw and well, my parents were happy about that. Meant I wasn’t completely gone upstairs. They’re proud I actually get decent grades, just so they can prove to their parents that they’ve done something right with raising their kids. I guess I could be called their pride and joy, though they don’t like to brag about their daughter who is only a lot touched in the head.

School’s been pretty easy for me, even if I act like I don’t pay attention that much, my memory is damn near perfect. I retain almost everything I sit through so passing exams is a peace of cake. That was dull, especially for me. I need to spice that up somehow… hmm… My new name is Princess Consuella Banana-Hammock. And a Banana-Hammock is the type of some male speedo in the muggle world. So yeah, even if this is out of place, at least you should be shaking your head in agreement with me being touched in the head. I do need that special room and special jacket don’t I? Come on, you can be honest, I’ll tell you which glass has the arsenic in it, I promise!”

Father: Charlie Weasley
Mother: Emiliya Rakovski
Siblings: [M] ____ Weasley : 23, Unknown
[F] ____ Weasley : 21, Unknown


Pet: Sunny, the Affordable Storage Unit Kitty (striped tabby, female)
Broom: Cleansweep 360
Wand: 12 inches, Elder, Kelpie Hair
Boggart: Bowtruckles

Member Title: Blacked Out in Brooklyn

Role-Playing Sample:
  • “There was silence all around her. She took a breath and began. All the attention was on her and despite herself, she was nervous. This sort of thing was supposed to be easy, to come naturally to her. Instead, she was frightened, the fear of making a mistake and ruining her debut was ever closing upon her, and when the song was finished and the crowd cheered, she said she’d never been happier, and from that moment on, she was never frightened on a night of her show.”

    “That’s how I’m going to be, Piglett,” Haven said lovingly to her pink pygmy puff, dubbed ‘Piglett,’ off of some random Muggle show called Winnie the Pooh or some such silly thing. Of course, Haven didn’t know the name of her pygmy should’ve been ‘Piglet’ with one ‘t,’ but even if she did she wouldn’t care. She liked the name of her puff just fine, it being a present from her father for her many Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations marks on her O.W.L.s the previous year.

    She already had an owl, and no need for a new one, so she asked her dad for something simple, and thus became Piglett. Haven loved the little pink fluffer and carried him with her everywhere. She had magicked a special compartment for him in her bag, so he could play, eat, drink, do whatever and not get squished by her books. He loved being able to roll around on her desk as long as she was sitting in the back. No teachers had ever taken him away. Maybe because she sobbed her eyes out and he screamed uncontrollably if they tried…

    Whatever the reason, she would never leave the little ball of cotton candy fluff anywhere unless he was ill, or if she was. He even got to go to Hogsmeade with her! Sighing now, she giggled and pet him lovingly as he ran about on her shoulders, trying to get a look at the article she was reading from a recent interview with the older Weird Sisters lead singer. She had described her first time on stage, and wanting to become a singer herself, Haven had eagerly read the article.

    Rolling up the magazine, she scooped Piglett into her hand. “What’s say we visit the kitchens and get something to drink little man?” The puff squealed in delight to signify agreement and Haven began the walk downstairs to the kitchens. Piglett loved the house elves, and they loved Piglett. She’d let him run around and roll excitedly, making her feel at ease and she would dance about the kitchens, singing to her favourite songs along with the wireless they had playing down there now, and they would clap for her. Yes, they always clapped, and maybe they weren’t telling the truth that her singing was good, but she liked that they at least made her feel good no matter what. The door closing behind her she slipped into the hall. It was after hours, and the last thing she needed was to get caught.

    And just her luck she would run into a Slytherin Prefect making rounds. So for the rest of her month she would have weekend detentions, but at least they hadn’t taken Piglett, he began to scream the moment they reached for him so the Prefect thought better of it and just took her to a professor for punishment. Gods she loved the little pink demon that had all but become her child.

PERSONAL
Name: Taylor C
Your Age: 17
Other Characters: nope
Contact Information: Pretty sure you all have it. If not, well, PM is best way to get a hold of me anyway
How Did You Find Us?: Old member myself, and Cris told me about the re-vamp.
Role-Playing Experience: Boards: 1.5 years, Other: 5/6 years
Miscellaneous/Other: -admint edit-


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