Post by Aurora Thorn on Dec 3, 2012 4:06:55 GMT 1
Who will believe my verse in time to come
Name:
Nickname:
Age:
Birthday:
Gender:
Nationality:
Current Residence:
Occupation:
House:
Year:
Wand:
Other possessions:
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey'd,
Such seems your beauty still
Hair:
Eyes:
Height/Weight:
Clothing Style:
Anything Else:
Play By:
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove
Patronus:
Boggart:
Erised:
Amortentia:
- Roses
- Fresh parchment
- Cinnamon
Veritaserum:
- She has a dislike of Muggles after she learned that her mother ran away with one.
- She wishes that her father would pay attention to her.
Likes:
- Roses
- Light colors
- Dancing
- Peace
- Art
- Reading
Dislikes:
- Darkness
- Her father
- Loud noises
- Pity
- Being dependent
- Her mother
Strengths:
- Intelligent
- Calm
- Potions
- Charms
- Sweet to those kind to her
Weaknesses:
- Trust issues
- A perfectionist
- Comes off as a cold person at first
- Overworks herself often
- Can be prideful
My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
Blood status:
Marital status:
Family members:
Parents:
Siblings:
Children:
Love interest:
Others:
Pets:
History:
Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Your name:
Have you read the rules?
Rp sample:
It was a rather cloudy day as Noir walked along the streets of her town. In her arms, she held a large bouquet of pure white roses. She practically had to beg that horrid Fontaine to allow her to come. It wasn't in her nature to beg someone. She always got what she wanted, or at least used to. It has been a month from the day her family died. It has also been two weeks since Fontaine took her in. She shook her head hard, sending her blonde hair flying around her that earned Noir some odd glances. Noir frowned.
This was not a time to think about that dreadful man. It was a time to think about her family. Noir kept walking, deep in thought, barely paying any attention to where she was walking. She almost strolled past her destination. Noir took several steps back and took a deep breath. She entered the gloomy-looking place filled with tombstones and weeping willows. Such a tragic place, she thought to herself. She quickly sped to a particularly large willow tree with tombstones in its shade.
She trekked to the fairly newer graves. Over her parents' grave was an arch which symbolized their reunion in heaven. Her brother's was a much more sorrowful picture. The Angel of Grief cast its hand next to his name. Noir laid the bouquet on her parents' grave and picked a single rose from it. She put it on front of her brother's grave. Would it have been different if he hadn't done those things? She closed her eyes and allowed a single tear fall on his grave before a torrent of them began to fall.
If my slight muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise
The form was made by Malena. The lines are taken from Shakespeare's sonnets. Feel free to edit the application if you want to, but please don't remove the credits
