Nightwarden

Salem Witches' Institute [Harry Potter]

Do I want to do a relationships tab?

...I do, but also effort.

Salem Witches' Institute [Harry Potter]

Wow, hi, sorry I was gone forever. Real life got in the way, but I'm here! I need a moment to catch up, though.

Salem Witches' Institute [Harry Potter]

Warren: You do not have to be smart to be a Warren. While they prefer logic and reason, they want facts rather than what their brain tells them. They hate chaos, they want everything to make sense, to have perfect connections. Because they do not see a connection between evil deeds and good thoughts or good deeds and evil thoughts, they mostly see in black-and-white, good-and-evil. They tend to be the realists.

@Apokalipse

Huh. No wonder Aurelia's so royally screwed-up in the head!

Salem Witches' Institute [Harry Potter]

Aurelia Faulkner

_{Aurelia Faulkner}

_{"I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual."}

blood status:

Half-blood; currently laboring under the delusion she's a pure-blood, thanks to her father's stellar parenting. Some speculate the Faulkner line has been diluted by non-human blood - Veela blood, in particular - but Aurelia refuses to confirm or deny any allegations.

age:

16 | February 14 | Aquarius

house:

Warren

academic year:

Sixth Year

gender:

Female

favorite class(es):

Potions, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. Anything that requires the faintest modicum of logic, precision, and rationality appeals to Aurelia's inner pedantagonist on a profound level.

least favorite class(es):

Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and essentially anything requiring wand proficiency.

pet:

None. It's probably for the best, too, considering she can scarcely care for herself.

electives:

Alchemy
Arithmancy
Care of Magical Creatures

clubs:

Potions club, of which she figures she may as well be the captain. Duelling club, as well, though she's bordering closer to 'adequate' than she is 'adept'.

personality:

Meticulous | “If you can’t do it right the first time, don’t bother doing it at all.”

Possibly stemming from some latent control issues she’s never really had to address, Aurelia rarely ever tackles a situation without a thorough, comprehensive plan in mind. Even her contingency plans have contingency plans tailored for them, and in the rare, once-in-a-blue-moon event she can put a plan to action due to your mistakes, you’d better believe she’ll rain a number of unpleasant hells down upon you later.

Irascible | “Wha - how dare you! I’ll have you know I’m no such thing, you moron!”

Were one looking for a truly apt way to describe Aurelia Faulkner, especially to the sweet, naive little lamb who hasn’t yet faced her wrath, one might liken her to a broken faucet. On one hand, her scathing wit and truly incendiary temper will, if triggered too long and by the wrong person, roast you to ashes. On the other, she’ll probably still destroy you. It takes very little to set her off, and, unfortunately, she’s a grudge-bearer. A minor misdemeanor may as well be a felony, in her book, because she’ll punish you all the same. She’s brutally unforgiving.

Stubborn | "Concession is for the weak."

The art of persuasion is a delicate one, but unfortunately, Aurelia's been fencing since long before she ever picked up a wand Once she’s set her mind to something, she’ll rarely sway her opinion or concede the point. Be it a duel, a debate, or a deathmatch, once she’s committed, she won’t ever relent. She’s absolutely determined to establish herself as strong and unyielding, and this dogged desperation may very well get her killed.

Prideful & Ambitious | "Me, wrong? How cute."

She’s got an ego taller than she is, and her arrogance may very well surpass the heavens. Her fatal flaw is hubris, and anything she considers even a faint slight on her integrity will be met with cruelty and contempt. She'll turn vying for the top into a blood sport.

Blunt | "You're not dumb, you just...haven't realized tact is shown, not told."

She’s not one for sugarcoating matters, albeit not out of malicious intent - she’s honestly oblivious to her own bluntness. Having Aurelia around is like having a hammer you can throw with impunity at delicate situations.

Lonely |“You’re not here to make friends. You’re a Faulkner, aren’t you? So start acting like it.”

A solitary childhood left Aurelia unsure as to the nuances of proper socialization. “Rich people friends” aren’t the same as true friends - you meet your affluent allies at company-sponsored galas, bond over parental expectations, facilitate each other’s substance abuses, and do as much as you can to show off how filthily wealthy you are. Under no circumstances do you willingly spend time together sober. The Faulkner heiress’s position isn’t as desirable as one might think. Her world is staggeringly luxurious, thoughtlessly wasteful, and soul-crushingly lonely. It’s a good thing Aurelia’s vice is adrenaline.

Protective | "You're the one person in this entire world that matters, okay? Don't you dare forget that!"

In tandem with the above, in the rare event Aurelia does forge a meaningful bond with someone, she'll fight like a demon to ensure they're constantly happy, safe, and want for nothing. Perhaps she's a little bit excessive, yes, but she either loves in excess or not at all. Again with the comparison to the broken faucet. Perhaps it's her selfish, greedy nature that causes this urge to defend - perhaps she thinks if she can be the perfect companion, her friends/romantic partners won't want to leave her for anyone else. Perhaps it's just sad, pitiful desperation - she's so desperate for positive attention, so starved for affection, that she'll give as much as she can possibly afford to keep that love coming.

Clever, Intelligent, & Diligent | "There's not a force in this universe that I can't outsmart."

She’s clever, considering her upbringing, and can read people with relative ease. Her overactive imagination contributes to her ability to almost “predict” certain outcomes - the only successful result of her father’s conditioning, or yet another coping mechanism?

Because of her status as the technical sole heiress to the Faulkner name, and because her father has drilled into her the importance of ambition, she’s naturally driven, and entirely willing to work for what she wants - if the situation calls for it. If hard labor will produce the intended outcome faster than a monetary bribe, then that’s the course of action she’ll choose, and vice versa.

Because she’s capable of distancing herself from her problems, treating them as purely intellectual exercises, she works extraordinarily well under pressure. She can disable the parts of her brain (typically those governing emotional attachment) that aren’t helping and dissect the problem logically without fear of hindrances such as the heart’s judgment slowing her down.

It’s not a coping mechanism one should envy, no matter how useful it might be.

Aloof & Withdrawn | ". . . Who invited you, again?"

Her cold, distant, mannerisms and concerted efforts toward maintaining the illusion of detachment can freeze you where you stand. (Toward those with whom she’s managed to establish a vague approximation of a friendship, she can and usually will dial it down, turning from scathing to fondly exasperated.) She rejects others to spare herself the pain of rejection.

However, despite her eagerness to resort to status and funds to get what she wants, Aurelia is surprisingly reticent in terms of talking about about her family, because daddy issues, daddy issues, daddy issues. If it’s not something you could glean from her family’s company website (her father does love those eccentric Muggles and their inventions), it’s not something she’s willing to disclose. Attempts to push the matter will usually garner a frosty glare and the silent treatment.

She’s cursed with ‘resting bitch face’ syndrome, meaning her default expression is a somewhat disdainful scowl.

Conceited & Spoiled| "Princess? No, no, you're sorely mistaken. It's Your Majesty, actually."

She’s used to a certain degree of comfort and refinery as far as amenities and lifestyle goes; dragging her along camping and presenting her with a few hastily-butchered trees to serve as makeshift chairs would earn a priceless look of disgust. She also has absolutely no idea how people without limitless funding live - trying to explain to her concepts such as “frugality” and “not dropping thousands of galleons on jackets alone in one sitting” and “Aurelia, no, we know you have more money than god and could buy out this entire store, please stop brandishing your credit card like a club, sweet merciful lord” is, unfortunately, futile. She’s also never had actual fast food - most of the chefs at home can replicate a healthier alternative with relative ease.

Vain enough to maintain her appearance almost meticulously. She’s downright pedantic about her eye makeup, and suggesting she go a day without brushing or styling her hair is akin to slapping her across the face.

Trenchant, Dramatic, & Snarky | “Blushing? I’m not blushing! You’re looking at the results of a traumatic injury, because these idiots’ve finally broken my brain!”

On rare occasions, she can be incisively funny, especially when she’s trying to call someone out on their bullshit or launch into a hilariously pissy rant. Tragedy is Aurelia happening to you, comedy is Aurelia happening to someone else. She’s also willing to argue with absolutely anyone about absolutely anything. She has a certain flair for the dramatic, meaning her comments are always entertaining.

Insecure & Easily Flustered | "I - I do not care! I, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Further imbalancing the unstable collection of minefields that can generously be called a personality, most of Aurelia’s frustrations and irate outbursts result from internalization of her own shortcomings. The only reason she’s so skilled at pointing out others’ flaws is because she’s had loads of practice picking out her own. However, she refuses to let these flaws govern her entirely, and she’s entirely willing to work hard to overcome them.

While more than happy to congratulate herself - some of her exploits during her first year earned her the nickname, “God Complex” - Aurelia has no idea what to make of an honest compliment. She tends to flounder and stutter and lapse into disjointed, flustered mumbling. It’s precious, and should be reserved for dire situations only. Along that vein, she’s extremely susceptible to cajolery and her friends’ wheedling; she has a hard time resisting pouting and pleading.

Because she’s obscenely pale, the poor girl blushes extremely noticeably. Be it the gradually darkening red flush of anger to the light pink sheen of embarrassment, her cheeks are typically as colorful as her insults.

strengths:

- Insanely accurate, insofar as precision is concerned. She's yet to encounter a potion she can't duplicate identically, then improve.
- Aggressively contrary, Aurelia possesses the ability to argue with anyone over literally anything.
- Enough sophistication and influence to rescue her friends in the event some sort of wacky scheme goes awry. She's been blessed with the innate grace of the insanely wealthy.
- Loathe as she is to admit it, her beauty occasionally proves advantageous.

weaknesses:

- She's short, fair, and delicate, meaning she'll overexert herself quite easily. Stamina and endurance have never been her strong suits.
- She's not a gracious loser, simply because she's not used to defeat. She'll demand endless rematches, and her efforts will prove futile time and time again.
- She has no idea what to make of a healthy emotional connection. She's no clue how to handle friendships and relationships, and a perplexed Aurelia is a peeved Aurelia.
- Her wand is a wayward, temperamental being; each volley of spells is just as likely to target her and her allies as it is her adversaries.

appearance:

Whiter than Wonder Bread doused in mayonnaise. Primarily English-French heritage, with some German mixed in. Her face shape is reminiscent of the classic, generic anime protagonist: thin, gently rounded cheeks that taper off into a slightly pointed chin. A delicate, slightly upturned nose. Small lips born to twist into a petulant pout. Cursed with a truly tiny stature; clocks in at approximately four feet, eight inches - and the term is used extremely loosely - tall. Slender, narrow build; her collarbones could open letters and her hipbones could sand glass. Thick, glossy silver hair - not her natural color, of course - that varies in exact hue depending on the lighting falls in wavy, waist-length layers. Tragically pale, she can’t even take a leisurely stroll through a park without suffering from some degree of sunburn.

Insofar as fashion goes, she has a certain affinity for summer dresses and vaguely hipster-esque clothing. She considers herself a connoisseur of baggy sweaters and flannel jackets, often pairing them with leggings or painted-on jeans.

She's developed an affinity for makeup bordering on unholy devotion; her blue eyes are almost perpetually rimmed with dark smudges equal parts eyeliner and exhaustion. It’s deliberately smudged to further highlight that nonchalant, flippant brand of don’t talk to me, you absolute dolt she's all-but patented.

Her posture is impeccable, if not a bit stiff. She could use to lighten up.

backstory:

Aurelia's young, but the hate festering in her heart is old enough to start a war.

The eldest product of Günter Faulkner and his newest concupiscent conquest's latest affair, most would agree Aurelia was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Born in one of northern America’s most extravagant estates to a father as indifferent as he was affluent and a mother who had opted for a more “hands-off” approach to parenting (except for mooching off benefits, of course), Aurelia spent much of her early childhood learning the intricacies of internecine warfare. Passive-aggressive notes, “accidental” misplacement of vital funds, and deploying threats of dismemberment with cheerful grace were the norm. It gave Aurelia a perverse sort of appreciation for the fine art of war - or at least, revealed to her that it was fully possible to operate on a level of treachery yet unbreached by human influence.

Because Aurelia was the eldest, the vast majority of her childhood was regulated rather strictly. Her father needed to ensure he could pass down the family company - empire, more aptly - to a suitable heir or heiress, and as such, he couldn't risk his daughter growing up a flighty, irresponsible hellion. "You're a Faulkner," he used to say, "you're a cut above the rest, so you must exemplify that in all you do." Personal style, attitude, posture - even the people with whom she associated were delegated by her father. Because Mr. Faulkner's arrogance was staggering, this meant friends were a precious, rare commodity.

Her fondest memories of living at home consisted of her bedroom mirror. A tall, surprisingly plain ornament; the only piece of furniture she owned that wasn't garishly ostentatious. As a young child, when the crushing weight of solitude was too much to bear, she'd hunt around in her father's room, scavenge a tube of his latest fling's lipstick, and draw a sloppy, kind of lopsided caricature on the mirror's surface.

It was someone to talk to, at least.

She often used to wonder if there were monsters hiding in her closet, and if they were, maybe they were lonely. Maybe they wanted a friend, but were too scared to talk, so they remained hidden, just out of reach.

The weekend preceding Halloween of her fourth year in attendance, she met a girl. Not conventionally attractive in any sense of the word, but had striking features - something about her presence was oddly enticing, enough to warrant a second look.

Aurelia swore she hadn't told a soul about the kiss, but somehow, her father had found out anyway. She never spoke about what sort of consequences she had to face, but the way she hunted that girl down, threatened a lawsuit, and almost terrorized her into never breathing a word about what had occurred - especially so Aurelia's fellow students didn't think she was on the market, so to speak - spoke louder than any rumors.

Even as an (almost) adult, she’s terrified of love. She doesn’t really know what genuine adoration feels like - especially when it’s directed at her.

wand:

Dogwood | 8 inches | Hippogriff feather core | Inflexible

A temperamental wand for a temperamental witch, Aurelia received this wand as a going-away present from her father, who was of the opinion his daughter was too good for a common wand with a conventional core. She’s kept it ever since, still laboring under the delusion that people change, that her father wasn’t a horrid, horrid man, that he meant well and everything was her fault, not his.

There's a reason wandsmiths typically advise against overriding the selection process in favor of wands with unique cores. They tend to produce . . . interesting outcomes.

As such, she excels with anything that doesn't require a wand, be it negotiations, bribery, and anything involving the barest modicum of logic. She can't give the wand the respect it deserves, because she was never taught how to lose graciously, so her practical exams leave a lot to be desired.

amortentia scents:

Crisp, fresh, untarnished paper, rain sizzling as it patters against hot concrete on a humid summer day, and perfume as rich and intoxicating as it is a permanent reminder of Aurelia's, as her father might say, 'sexual deviance'.

patronus:

She can’t produce a Patronus, initially. Nothing very substantial, at least, beyond the standard silvery wisps. There’s something devastatingly humiliating about being informed you aren’t happy enough.

Later on, however, she develops the ability to conjure up a Siberian husky. Aloof, beautiful, and fiercely loyal to its pack. A bit ironic considering her catty nature, but if she closes her eyes and concentrates, she can pretend it’s majestic and regal.

boggart:

Her father, Günter Faulkner. Cold, calculating, and tackling every situation, from a baptism to a funeral, with an entrepreneurial attitude, Günter truly is the perfect businessman. Decidedly amoral, he marvels at criminality and envies villainous innovativity - if it could make a profit, there’s a good chance it’s right up his alley. He’s as charismatic and eloquent as he is emotionally detached, making him a truly dangerous adversary.

Rumors allege he stopped smiling the day his daughter found a reason to start.

He’s a master of withering looks - he and his daughter glare almost identically. They also share control issues, judging from how he tried to condition Aurelia into a near-carbon copy of himself.

Weirdly obsessed with integrating Muggle innovations into Wizarding culture. Like, creepy pseudo-dictator obsessed. Hence the credit cards and websites. Apparently, he's planning on jockeying for a position in the Republic. A typical businessman at heart.

fears:

Thunderstorms, total darkness, leading a life of isolation, and incurring her father's wrath.

likes:

- Novels in any form, particularly romance, fantasy, and trashy vampire erotica.
- Blustery winter days, be it watching the snow shiver as it falls from the safety of a window or taking a brisk walk through the snow piles. On rare occasions, she could be convinced to make snow angels or join a snowball fight.
- Girls.
- Puzzles. Crosswords, jigsaw, word searches, Sudoku - if it's a puzzle, she'll eagerly complete it.

dislikes:

- Thunderstorms. Despite her love for rain, she's been terrified of the earth-shaking thunder claps and flashes of lightning since early childhood.
- Obnoxious, rowdy boys that think 'no' means 'convince me'.
- Chocolate. It's too rich and bitter for her tastes.

trivia:

• Has legitimately never so much as touched a cheeseburger or other greasy comfort food in her life. Would probably regard a menu at a casual restaurant with a look of utter soul-crushing bewilderment.​
• Doesn't particularly like chocolate, but can tolerate it if it's drizzled over strawberries or vanilla ice cream.​
  Absolutely loathes warm weather and visiting the beach. She doesn't tan, she burns.​
• Has a hyperactive imagination and an affinity for all things histrionic; as such, she has a rather irrational fear of the dark and the things that might lurk within its midst. Has been known to stay up the entire night, stumble blearily into class the next morning, dark circles ringing her eyes like war paint, and offer, "The windowsill - it creaked," as her sole explanation.​
• Charms her hair, but pretends it's naturally silver. Her natural color is an extremely pale shade of blonde, thanks to her Veela heritage.
• Not interested in being polite or heterosexual. Girls, she's discovered, are extraordinary.
• Absolutely not a morning person - she's even more waspish than usual, especially if she was forced to rise in the wee hours of the morning. Don't speak to her before she has her daily dose of coffee if you’d like to keep your head.​

theme:

Halsey - Castle

Salem Witches' Institute [Harry Potter]

Oh, for anyone who's wondering: this was the process that resulted in Aurelia's creation.

Salem Witches' Institute [Harry Potter]

Hoo, boy, that was an ordeal. Sorry it's obscenely long - while I did recycle the character from a previous venture, refurbishing her was fun! I got a bit carried away, methinks.

In any case, enjoy this tiny disaster child.

EDIT: Included a tentative face claim for Aurelia's shitheel dad. Wow, what a chode.

Snark, Arrogance, and Daddy Issues: The Character

_{Aurelia Faulkner}

_{"I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual."}

blood status:

Half-blood; currently laboring under the delusion she's a pure-blood, thanks to her father's stellar parenting. Some speculate the Faulkner line has been diluted by non-human blood - Veela blood, in particular - but Aurelia refuses to confirm or deny any allegations.

age:

16 | February 14 | Aquarius

house:

Warren

academic year:

Sixth Year

gender:

Female

favorite class(es):

Potions, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. Anything that requires the faintest modicum of logic, precision, and rationality appeals to Aurelia's inner pedantagonist on a profound level.

least favorite class(es):

Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and essentially anything requiring wand proficiency.

pet:

None. It's probably for the best, too, considering she can scarcely care for herself.

electives:

Alchemy
Arithmancy
Care of Magical Creatures

clubs:

Potions club, of which she figures she may as well be the captain. Duelling club, as well, though she's bordering closer to 'adequate' than she is 'adept'.

personality:

Meticulous | “If you can’t do it right the first time, don’t bother doing it at all.”

Possibly stemming from some latent control issues she’s never really had to address, Aurelia rarely ever tackles a situation without a thorough, comprehensive plan in mind. Even her contingency plans have contingency plans tailored for them, and in the rare, once-in-a-blue-moon event she can put a plan to action due to your mistakes, you’d better believe she’ll rain a number of unpleasant hells down upon you later.

Irascible | “Wha - how dare you! I’ll have you know I’m no such thing, you moron!”

Were one looking for a truly apt way to describe Aurelia Faulkner, especially to the sweet, naive little lamb who hasn’t yet faced her wrath, one might liken her to a broken faucet. On one hand, her scathing wit and truly incendiary temper will, if triggered too long and by the wrong person, roast you to ashes. On the other, she’ll probably still destroy you. It takes very little to set her off, and, unfortunately, she’s a grudge-bearer. A minor misdemeanor may as well be a felony, in her book, because she’ll punish you all the same. She’s brutally unforgiving.

Stubborn | "Concession is for the weak."

The art of persuasion is a delicate one, but unfortunately, Aurelia's been fencing since long before she ever picked up a wand Once she’s set her mind to something, she’ll rarely sway her opinion or concede the point. Be it a duel, a debate, or a deathmatch, once she’s committed, she won’t ever relent. She’s absolutely determined to establish herself as strong and unyielding, and this dogged desperation may very well get her killed.

Prideful & Ambitious | "Me, wrong? How cute."

She’s got an ego taller than she is, and her arrogance may very well surpass the heavens. Her fatal flaw is hubris, and anything she considers even a faint slight on her integrity will be met with cruelty and contempt. She'll turn vying for the top into a blood sport.

Blunt | "You're not dumb, you just...haven't realized tact is shown, not told."

She’s not one for sugarcoating matters, albeit not out of malicious intent - she’s honestly oblivious to her own bluntness. Having Aurelia around is like having a hammer you can throw with impunity at delicate situations.

Lonely |“You’re not here to make friends. You’re a Faulkner, aren’t you? So start acting like it.”

A solitary childhood left Aurelia unsure as to the nuances of proper socialization. “Rich people friends” aren’t the same as true friends - you meet your affluent allies at company-sponsored galas, bond over parental expectations, facilitate each other’s substance abuses, and do as much as you can to show off how filthily wealthy you are. Under no circumstances do you willingly spend time together sober. The Faulkner heiress’s position isn’t as desirable as one might think. Her world is staggeringly luxurious, thoughtlessly wasteful, and soul-crushingly lonely. It’s a good thing Aurelia’s vice is adrenaline.

Protective | "You're the one person in this entire world that matters, okay? Don't you dare forget that!"

In tandem with the above, in the rare event Aurelia does forge a meaningful bond with someone, she'll fight like a demon to ensure they're constantly happy, safe, and want for nothing. Perhaps she's a little bit excessive, yes, but she either loves in excess or not at all. Again with the comparison to the broken faucet. Perhaps it's her selfish, greedy nature that causes this urge to defend - perhaps she thinks if she can be the perfect companion, her friends/romantic partners won't want to leave her for anyone else. Perhaps it's just sad, pitiful desperation - she's so desperate for positive attention, so starved for affection, that she'll give as much as she can possibly afford to keep that love coming.

Clever, Intelligent, & Diligent | "There's not a force in this universe that I can't outsmart."

She’s clever, considering her upbringing, and can read people with relative ease. Her overactive imagination contributes to her ability to almost “predict” certain outcomes - the only successful result of her father’s conditioning, or yet another coping mechanism?

Because of her status as the technical sole heiress to the Faulkner name, and because her father has drilled into her the importance of ambition, she’s naturally driven, and entirely willing to work for what she wants - if the situation calls for it. If hard labor will produce the intended outcome faster than a monetary bribe, then that’s the course of action she’ll choose, and vice versa.

Because she’s capable of distancing herself from her problems, treating them as purely intellectual exercises, she works extraordinarily well under pressure. She can disable the parts of her brain (typically those governing emotional attachment) that aren’t helping and dissect the problem logically without fear of hindrances such as the heart’s judgment slowing her down.

It’s not a coping mechanism one should envy, no matter how useful it might be.

Aloof & Withdrawn | ". . . Who invited you, again?"

Her cold, distant, mannerisms and concerted efforts toward maintaining the illusion of detachment can freeze you where you stand. (Toward those with whom she’s managed to establish a vague approximation of a friendship, she can and usually will dial it down, turning from scathing to fondly exasperated.) She rejects others to spare herself the pain of rejection.

However, despite her eagerness to resort to status and funds to get what she wants, Aurelia is surprisingly reticent in terms of talking about about her family, because daddy issues, daddy issues, daddy issues. If it’s not something you could glean from her family’s company website (her father does love those eccentric Muggles and their inventions), it’s not something she’s willing to disclose. Attempts to push the matter will usually garner a frosty glare and the silent treatment.

She’s cursed with ‘resting bitch face’ syndrome, meaning her default expression is a somewhat disdainful scowl.

Conceited & Spoiled| "Princess? No, no, you're sorely mistaken. It's Your Majesty, actually."

She’s used to a certain degree of comfort and refinery as far as amenities and lifestyle goes; dragging her along camping and presenting her with a few hastily-butchered trees to serve as makeshift chairs would earn a priceless look of disgust. She also has absolutely no idea how people without limitless funding live - trying to explain to her concepts such as “frugality” and “not dropping thousands of galleons on jackets alone in one sitting” and “Aurelia, no, we know you have more money than god and could buy out this entire store, please stop brandishing your credit card like a club, sweet merciful lord” is, unfortunately, futile. She’s also never had actual fast food - most of the chefs at home can replicate a healthier alternative with relative ease.

Vain enough to maintain her appearance almost meticulously. She’s downright pedantic about her eye makeup, and suggesting she go a day without brushing or styling her hair is akin to slapping her across the face.

Trenchant, Dramatic, & Snarky | “Blushing? I’m not blushing! You’re looking at the results of a traumatic injury, because these idiots’ve finally broken my brain!”

On rare occasions, she can be incisively funny, especially when she’s trying to call someone out on their bullshit or launch into a hilariously pissy rant. Tragedy is Aurelia happening to you, comedy is Aurelia happening to someone else. She’s also willing to argue with absolutely anyone about absolutely anything. She has a certain flair for the dramatic, meaning her comments are always entertaining.

Insecure & Easily Flustered | "I - I do not care! I, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Further imbalancing the unstable collection of minefields that can generously be called a personality, most of Aurelia’s frustrations and irate outbursts result from internalization of her own shortcomings. The only reason she’s so skilled at pointing out others’ flaws is because she’s had loads of practice picking out her own. However, she refuses to let these flaws govern her entirely, and she’s entirely willing to work hard to overcome them.

While more than happy to congratulate herself - some of her exploits during her first year earned her the nickname, “God Complex” - Aurelia has no idea what to make of an honest compliment. She tends to flounder and stutter and lapse into disjointed, flustered mumbling. It’s precious, and should be reserved for dire situations only. Along that vein, she’s extremely susceptible to cajolery and her friends’ wheedling; she has a hard time resisting pouting and pleading.

Because she’s obscenely pale, the poor girl blushes extremely noticeably. Be it the gradually darkening red flush of anger to the light pink sheen of embarrassment, her cheeks are typically as colorful as her insults.

strengths:

- Insanely accurate, insofar as precision is concerned. She's yet to encounter a potion she can't duplicate identically, then improve.
- Aggressively contrary, Aurelia possesses the ability to argue with anyone over literally anything.
- Enough sophistication and influence to rescue her friends in the event some sort of wacky scheme goes awry. She's been blessed with the innate grace of the insanely wealthy.
- Loathe as she is to admit it, her beauty occasionally proves advantageous.

weaknesses:

- She's short, fair, and delicate, meaning she'll overexert herself quite easily. Stamina and endurance have never been her strong suits.
- She's not a gracious loser, simply because she's not used to defeat. She'll demand endless rematches, and her efforts will prove futile time and time again.
- She has no idea what to make of a healthy emotional connection. She's no clue how to handle friendships and relationships, and a perplexed Aurelia is a peeved Aurelia.
- Her wand is a wayward, temperamental being; each volley of spells is just as likely to target her and her allies as it is her adversaries.

appearance:

Whiter than Wonder Bread doused in mayonnaise. Primarily English-French heritage, with some German mixed in. Her face shape is reminiscent of the classic, generic anime protagonist: thin, gently rounded cheeks that taper off into a slightly pointed chin. A delicate, slightly upturned nose. Small lips born to twist into a petulant pout. Cursed with a truly tiny stature; clocks in at approximately four feet, eight inches - and the term is used extremely loosely - tall. Slender, narrow build; her collarbones could open letters and her hipbones could sand glass. Thick, glossy silver hair - not her natural color, of course - that varies in exact hue depending on the lighting falls in wavy, waist-length layers. Tragically pale, she can’t even take a leisurely stroll through a park without suffering from some degree of sunburn.

Insofar as fashion goes, she has a certain affinity for summer dresses and vaguely hipster-esque clothing. She considers herself a connoisseur of baggy sweaters and flannel jackets, often pairing them with leggings or painted-on jeans.

She's developed an affinity for makeup bordering on unholy devotion; her blue eyes are almost perpetually rimmed with dark smudges equal parts eyeliner and exhaustion. It’s deliberately smudged to further highlight that nonchalant, flippant brand of don’t talk to me, you absolute dolt she's all-but patented.

Her posture is impeccable, if not a bit stiff. She could use to lighten up.

backstory:

Aurelia's young, but the hate festering in her heart is old enough to start a war.

The eldest product of Günter Faulkner and his newest concupiscent conquest's latest affair, most would agree Aurelia was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Born in one of northern America’s most extravagant estates to a father as indifferent as he was affluent and a mother who had opted for a more “hands-off” approach to parenting (except for mooching off benefits, of course), Aurelia spent much of her early childhood learning the intricacies of internecine warfare. Passive-aggressive notes, “accidental” misplacement of vital funds, and deploying threats of dismemberment with cheerful grace were the norm. It gave Aurelia a perverse sort of appreciation for the fine art of war - or at least, revealed to her that it was fully possible to operate on a level of treachery yet unbreached by human influence.

Because Aurelia was the eldest, the vast majority of her childhood was regulated rather strictly. Her father needed to ensure he could pass down the family company - empire, more aptly - to a suitable heir or heiress, and as such, he couldn't risk his daughter growing up a flighty, irresponsible hellion. "You're a Faulkner," he used to say, "you're a cut above the rest, so you must exemplify that in all you do." Personal style, attitude, posture - even the people with whom she associated were delegated by her father. Because Mr. Faulkner's arrogance was staggering, this meant friends were a precious, rare commodity.

Her fondest memories of living at home consisted of her bedroom mirror. A tall, surprisingly plain ornament; the only piece of furniture she owned that wasn't garishly ostentatious. As a young child, when the crushing weight of solitude was too much to bear, she'd hunt around in her father's room, scavenge a tube of his latest fling's lipstick, and draw a sloppy, kind of lopsided caricature on the mirror's surface.

It was someone to talk to, at least.

She often used to wonder if there were monsters hiding in her closet, and if they were, maybe they were lonely. Maybe they wanted a friend, but were too scared to talk, so they remained hidden, just out of reach.

The weekend preceding Halloween of her fourth year in attendance, she met a girl. Not conventionally attractive in any sense of the word, but had striking features - something about her presence was oddly enticing, enough to warrant a second look.

Aurelia swore she hadn't told a soul about the kiss, but somehow, her father had found out anyway. She never spoke about what sort of consequences she had to face, but the way she hunted that girl down, threatened a lawsuit, and almost terrorized her into never breathing a word about what had occurred - especially so Aurelia's fellow students didn't think she was on the market, so to speak - spoke louder than any rumors.

Even as an (almost) adult, she’s terrified of love. She doesn’t really know what genuine adoration feels like - especially when it’s directed at her.

wand:

Dogwood | 8 inches | Hippogriff feather core | Inflexible

A temperamental wand for a temperamental witch, Aurelia received this wand as a going-away present from her father, who was of the opinion his daughter was too good for a common wand with a conventional core. She’s kept it ever since, still laboring under the delusion that people change, that her father wasn’t a horrid, horrid man, that he meant well and everything was her fault, not his.

There's a reason wandsmiths typically advise against overriding the selection process in favor of wands with unique cores. They tend to produce . . . interesting outcomes.

As such, she excels with anything that doesn't require a wand, be it negotiations, bribery, and anything involving the barest modicum of logic. She can't give the wand the respect it deserves, because she was never taught how to lose graciously, so her practical exams leave a lot to be desired.

amortentia scents:

Crisp, fresh, untarnished paper, rain sizzling as it patters against hot concrete on a humid summer day, and perfume as rich and intoxicating as it is a permanent reminder of Aurelia's, as her father might say, 'sexual deviance'.

patronus:

She can’t produce a Patronus, initially. Nothing very substantial, at least, beyond the standard silvery wisps. There’s something devastatingly humiliating about being informed you aren’t happy enough.

Later on, however, she develops the ability to conjure up a Siberian husky. Aloof, beautiful, and fiercely loyal to its pack. A bit ironic considering her catty nature, but if she closes her eyes and concentrates, she can pretend it’s majestic and regal.

boggart:

Her father, Günter Faulkner. Cold, calculating, and tackling every situation, from a baptism to a funeral, with an entrepreneurial attitude, Günter truly is the perfect businessman. Decidedly amoral, he marvels at criminality and envies villainous innovativity - if it could make a profit, there’s a good chance it’s right up his alley. He’s as charismatic and eloquent as he is emotionally detached, making him a truly dangerous adversary.

Rumors allege he stopped smiling the day his daughter found a reason to start.

He’s a master of withering looks - he and his daughter glare almost identically. They also share control issues, judging from how he tried to condition Aurelia into a near-carbon copy of himself.

Weirdly obsessed with integrating Muggle innovations into Wizarding culture. Like, creepy pseudo-dictator obsessed. Hence the credit cards and websites. Apparently, he's planning on jockeying for a position in the Republic. A typical businessman at heart.

fears:

Thunderstorms, total darkness, leading a life of isolation, and incurring her father's wrath.

likes:

- Novels in any form, particularly romance, fantasy, and trashy vampire erotica.
- Blustery winter days, be it watching the snow shiver as it falls from the safety of a window or taking a brisk walk through the snow piles. On rare occasions, she could be convinced to make snow angels or join a snowball fight.
- Girls.
- Puzzles. Crosswords, jigsaw, word searches, Sudoku - if it's a puzzle, she'll eagerly complete it.

dislikes:

- Thunderstorms. Despite her love for rain, she's been terrified of the earth-shaking thunder claps and flashes of lightning since early childhood.
- Obnoxious, rowdy boys that think 'no' means 'convince me'.
- Chocolate. It's too rich and bitter for her tastes.

trivia:

• Has legitimately never so much as touched a cheeseburger or other greasy comfort food in her life. Would probably regard a menu at a casual restaurant with a look of utter soul-crushing bewilderment.​
• Doesn't particularly like chocolate, but can tolerate it if it's drizzled over strawberries or vanilla ice cream.​
  Absolutely loathes warm weather and visiting the beach. She doesn't tan, she burns.​
• Has a hyperactive imagination and an affinity for all things histrionic; as such, she has a rather irrational fear of the dark and the things that might lurk within its midst. Has been known to stay up the entire night, stumble blearily into class the next morning, dark circles ringing her eyes like war paint, and offer, "The windowsill - it creaked," as her sole explanation.​
• Charms her hair, but pretends it's naturally silver. Her natural color is an extremely pale shade of blonde, thanks to her Veela heritage.
• Not interested in being polite or heterosexual. Girls, she's discovered, are extraordinary.
• Absolutely not a morning person - she's even more waspish than usual, especially if she was forced to rise in the wee hours of the morning. Don't speak to her before she has her daily dose of coffee if you’d like to keep your head.​

theme:

Halsey - Castle

Salem Witches' Institute [Harry Potter]

Interested! I'll begin assembling a character sheet shortly.

Harry Potter: 2017-2018

I'll wait for Victoria to be posted in the Character Tab because I can't upset the natural order of things yo. It was hard enough for me to leave those uncapitalised letters in the CS.

@McHaggis

oh! in that case, done. decided against a hider, since it's the tab devoted pretty much exclusively to characters.

Harry Potter: 2017-2018

_{Victoria Faulkner}

blood status:

Half-blood

age:

12 | February 14 | Aquarius

gender:

Cis female

personality:

Meticulous | “If you can’t do it right the first time, don’t bother doing it at all.”

Possibly stemming from some latent control issues she’s never really had to address, Victoria rarely ever tackles a situation without a thorough, comprehensive plan in mind. Even her contingency plans have contingency plans tailored for them, and in the rare, once-in-a-blue-moon event she can put a plan to action due to your mistakes, you’d better believe she’ll rain a number of unpleasant hells down upon you later.

Irascible | “Wha - how dare you! I’ll have you know I’m no such thing, you moron!”

Were one looking for a truly apt way to describe Victoria Faulkner, especially to the sweet, naive little lamb who hasn’t yet faced her wrath, one might liken her to a broken faucet. On one hand, her scathing wit and truly incendiary temper will, if triggered too long and by the wrong person, roast you to ashes. On the other, she’ll probably still destroy you. It takes very little to set her off, and, unfortunately, she’s a grudge-bearer. A minor misdemeanor may as well be a felony, in her book, because she’ll punish you all the same. She’s brutally unforgiving.

Stubborn | "Concession is for the weak."

The art of persuasion is a delicate one, but unfortunately, Victoria’s been fencing since long before she ever picked up a wand Once she’s set her mind to something, she’ll rarely sway her opinion or concede the point. Be it a duel, a debate, or a deathmatch, once she’s committed, she won’t ever relent. She’s absolutely determined to establish herself as strong and unyielding, and this dogged desperation may very well get her killed.

Prideful | "Me, wrong? How cute."

She’s got an ego taller than she is, and her arrogance may very well surpass the heavens. Her fatal flaw is hubris, and anything she considers even a faint slight on her integrity will be met with cruelty and contempt.

Blunt | "You're not dumb, you just...haven't realized tact is shown, not told."

She’s not one for sugarcoating matters, albeit not out of malicious intent - she’s honestly oblivious to her own bluntness. Having Victoria around is like having a hammer you can throw with impunity at delicate situations.

Lonely |“You’re not here to make friends. You’re a Faulkner, aren’t you? So start acting like it.”

A solitary childhood left Victoria unsure how to properly socialize. “Rich people friends” aren’t the same as true friends - you meet your affluent allies at company-sponsored galas, bond over parental expectations, facilitate each other’s substance abuses, and do as much as you can to show off how filthily wealthy you are. Under no circumstances do you willingly spend time together sober. The Faulkner heiress’s position isn’t as desirable as one might think. Her world is staggeringly luxurious, thoughtlessly wasteful, and soul-crushingly lonely. It’s a good thing Victoria’s vice is adrenaline.

Protective | "You're the one person in this entire world that matters, okay? Don't you dare forget that!"

In tandem with the above, in the rare event Victoria does forge a meaningful bond with someone, she'll fight like a demon to ensure they're constantly happy, safe, and want for nothing. Perhaps she's a little bit excessive, yes, but she either loves in excess or not at all. Again with the comparison to the broken faucet. Perhaps it's her selfish, greedy nature that causes this urge to defend - perhaps she thinks if she can be the perfect companion, her friends/romantic partners won't want to leave her for anyone else. Perhaps it's just sad, pitiful desperation - she's so desperate for positive attention, so starved for affection, that she'll give as much as she can possibly afford to keep that love coming.

Clever, Intelligent, & Diligent | "There's not a force in this universe that I can't outsmart."

She’s clever, considering her upbringing, and can read people with relative ease. Her overactive imagination contributes to her ability to almost “predict” certain outcomes - the only successful result of her father’s conditioning, or yet another coping mechanism?

Because of her status as the technical sole heiress to the Faulkner name, and because her father has drilled into her the importance of ambition, she’s naturally driven, and entirely willing to work for what she wants - if the situation calls for it. If hard labor will produce the intended outcome faster than a monetary bribe, then that’s the course of action she’ll choose, and vice versa.

Because she’s capable of distancing herself from her problems, treating them as purely intellectual exercises, she works extraordinarily well under pressure. She can disable the parts of her brain (typically those governing emotional attachment) that aren’t helping and dissect the problem logically without fear of hindrances such as the heart’s judgment slowing her down.

It’s not a coping mechanism one should envy, no matter how useful it might be.

Aloof & Withdrawn | ". . . Who invited you, again?"

Her cold, distant, mannerisms and concerted efforts toward maintaining the illusion of detachment can freeze you where you stand. (Toward those with whom she’s managed to establish a vague approximation of a friendship, she can and usually will dial it down, turning from scathing to fondly exasperated.) She rejects others to spare herself the pain of rejection.

However, despite her eagerness to resort to status and funds to get what she wants, Victoria is surprisingly reticent in terms of talking about about her family, because daddy issues, daddy issues, daddy issues. If it’s not something you could glean from her family’s company website (her father does love those eccentric Muggles and their inventions), it’s not something she’s willing to disclose. Attempts to push the matter will usually garner a frosty glare and the silent treatment.

She’s cursed with ‘resting bitch face’ syndrome, meaning her default expression is a somewhat disdainful scowl.

Conceited & Spoiled| "Princess? No, no, you're sorely mistaken. It's Your Majesty, actually."

She’s used to a certain degree of comfort and refinery as far as amenities and lifestyle goes; dragging her along camping and presenting her with a few hastily-butchered trees to serve as makeshift chairs would earn a priceless look of disgust. She also has absolutely no idea how people without limitless funding live - trying to explain to her concepts such as “frugality” and “not dropping thousands of galleons on jackets alone in one sitting” and “Victoria no we know you have more money than god and could buy out this entire store please stop brandishing your credit card like a club sweet merciful lord” is, unfortunately, futile. She’s also never had actual fast food - most of the chefs at home can replicate a healthier alternative with relative ease.

Vain enough to maintain her appearance almost meticulously. She’s downright pedantic about her eye makeup, and suggesting she go a day without brushing or styling her hair is akin to slapping her across the face.

Trenchant, Dramatic, & Snarky | “Blushing? I’m not blushing! You’re looking at the results of a traumatic injury, because these idiots’ve finally broken my brain!”

On rare occasions, she can be incisively funny, especially when she’s trying to call someone out on their bullshit or launch into a hilariously pissy rant. Tragedy is Victoria happening to you, comedy is Victoria happening to someone else. She’s also willing to argue with absolutely anyone about absolutely anything. She has a certain flair for the dramatic, meaning her comments are always entertaining.

Insecure & Easily Flustered | "I - I do not care! I, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Further imbalancing the unstable collection of minefields that can generously be called a personality, most of Victoria’s frustrations and irate outbursts result from internalization of her own shortcomings. The only reason she’s so skilled at pointing out others’ flaws is because she’s had loads of practice picking out her own. However, she refuses to let these flaws govern her entirely, and she’s entirely willing to work hard to overcome them.

While more than happy to congratulate herself - some of her exploits during her first year earned her the nickname, “God Complex” - Victoria has no idea what to make of an honest compliment. She tends to flounder and stutter and lapse into disjointed, flustered mumbling. It’s precious, and should be reserved for dire situations only. Along that vein, she’s extremely susceptible to cajolery and her friends’ wheedling; she has a hard time resisting pouting and pleading.

Because she’s whiter than Wonder bread doused in mayonnaise, the poor girl blushes extremely noticeably. Be it the gradually darkening red flush of anger to the light pink sheen of embarrassment, her cheeks are typically as colorful as her insults.

appearance:

Whiter than Wonder Bread doused in mayonnaise. Primarily English heritage, with some German mixed in. Her face shape is reminiscent of the classic, generic anime protagonist: thin, gently rounded cheeks that taper off into a slightly pointed chin. A delicate, slightly upturned nose. Small lips born to twist into a petulant pout. Cursed with a truly tiny stature; clocks in at approximately four feet, eight inches - and the term is used extremely loosely - tall. Slender, narrow build; her collarbones could open letters and her hipbones could sand glass. Side-swept silver hair - not her natural color, of course - that varies in exact hue depending on the lighting is worn in wavy, waist-length layers. Tragically pale, she can’t even take a leisurely stroll through a park without suffering from some degree of sunburn.

Insofar as fashion goes, she has a certain affinity for summer dresses and vaguely hipster-esque clothing. She considers herself a connoisseur of baggy sweaters and flannel jackets, often pairing them with leggings or painted-on jeans.

Later on, once she discovers and develops an affinity for makeup, her blue eyes are almost perpetually rimmed with dark smudges equal parts eyeliner and exhaustion. It’s deliberately smudged to further highlight that nonchalant, flippant brand of don’t talk to me, you absolute walnut she wears so well.

Her posture is perfect, if not a bit stiff. She could use to lighten up.

backstory:

Victoria's young, but the hate festering in her heart is old enough to start a war.

The eldest product of Günter Faulkner and his newest concupiscent conquest's latest affair, many would say Victoria was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Born in one of Britain’s most extravagant estates to a father as indifferent as he was affluent and a mother who had opted for a more “hands-off” approach to parenting (except for mooching off benefits, of course), Victoria spent much of her early childhood learning the intricacies of internecine warfare. Passive-aggressive notes, “accidental” misplacement of vital funds, and deploying threats of dismemberment with cheerful grace were the norm. It gave Victoria a perverse sort of appreciation for the fine art of war - or at least, revealed to her that it was fully possible to operate on a level of treachery yet unbreached by human influence.

Because Victoria was the eldest, the vast majority of her childhood was regulated rather strictly. Her father needed to ensure he could pass down the family company - empire, more aptly - to a suitable heir or heiress, and as such, he couldn't risk his daughter growing up a flighty, irresponsible hellion. "You're a Faulkner," he used to say, "you're a cut above the rest, so you must exemplify that in all you do." Personal style, attitude, posture - even the people with whom she associated were delegated by her father. Because Mr. Faulkner's arrogance was staggering, this meant friends were a precious, rare commodity.

Her fondest memories of living at home consisted of her bedroom mirror. A tall, surprisingly plain ornament; the only piece of furniture she owned that wasn't garishly ostentatious. As a young child, when the crushing weight of solitude was too much to bear, she'd hunt around in her father's room, scavenge a tube of his latest fling's lipstick, and draw a sloppy, kind of lopsided caricature on the mirror's surface.

It was someone to talk to, at least.

She often used to wonder if there were monsters hiding in her closet, and if they were, maybe they were lonely. Maybe they wanted a friend, but were too scared to talk, so they remained hidden, just out of reach.

wand material:

Dogwood | 8 inches | Hippogriff feather core | Inflexible

A temperamental wand for a temperamental witch, Victoria received this wand as a Hogwarts going-away present from her father, who was of the opinion his daughter was too good for a common wand with a conventional core. She’s kept it ever since, still laboring under the delusion that people change, that her father wasn’t a horrid, horrid man, that he meant well and everything was her fault, not his.

There's a reason Ollivander advised against overriding the selection process in favor of wands with unique cores. They tend to produce . . . interesting outcomes.

As such, she excels with anything that doesn't require a wand, be it negotiations, bribery, and anything involving the barest modicum of logic. She can't give the wand the respect it deserves, because she was never taught how to lose graciously, so her practical exams leaves a lot to be desired.

boggart:

Her father. Cold, calculating, and tackling every situation, from a baptism to a funeral, with an entrepreneurial attitude, Günter truly is the perfect businessman. Decidedly amoral, he marvels at criminality and envies villainous innovativity - if it could make a profit, there’s a good chance it’s right up his alley. He’s as charismatic and eloquent as he is emotionally detached, making him a truly dangerous adversary.

Rumors allege he stopped smiling the day his daughter found a reason to start.

He’s a master of withering looks - he and his daughter glare almost identically. They also share control issues, judging from how he tried to condition Victoria into a near-carbon copy of himself.

Weirdly obsessed with integrating Muggle innovations into Wizarding culture. Like, creepy pseudo-dictator obsessed. Hence the credit cards and websites. Apparently, he's planning on jockeying for a position in the Ministry. A typical businessman at heart.

other:

• Has legitimately never so much as touched a cheeseburger or other greasy comfort food in her life. Would probably regard a menu at a casual restaurant with a look of utter soul-crushing bewilderment.​
• Doesn't particularly like chocolate, but can tolerate it if it's drizzled over strawberries or vanilla ice cream.​
  Absolutely loathes warm weather and visiting the beach. She doesn't tan, she burns.​
• Has a hyperactive imagination and an affinity for all things histrionic; as such, she has a rather irrational fear of the dark and the things that might lurk within its midst. Has been known to stay up the entire night, stumble blearily into class the next morning, dark circles ringing her eyes like war paint, and offer, "The windowsill - it creaked," as her sole explanation.​
• Charms her hair, but pretends it's naturally silver.
• Not interested in being polite or heterosexual. Girls, she's discovered, are extraordinary.
• Absolutely not a morning person - she's even more waspish than usual, especially if she was forced to rise in the wee hours of the morning. Don't speak to her before she has her daily dose of coffee if you’d like to keep your head.​

Harry Potter: 2017-2018

@Nightwarden Woops accidentally made a character with daddy issues as well. Want me to change it (because I can quite easily) or..?

@McHaggis

i'm not worried. two characters could hail from nearly-identical situations and present themselves entirely differently, and the characters have different-enough personalities that it doesn't really feel all that redundant.

personally, i think it'd be the most twisted bonding exercise ever. they can commiserate over their shitty home lives.