Post by skybelle on Jun 25, 2013 15:52:32 GMT -6
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #9c5f5b, bTable][tr][cs=2] skybelle alianora lestrange. seventeen. slytherin. 11-1/4" hawthorn, liquified boomslang venom, unyielding. susan coffey. | |
[rs=2] | Wait. Let me get this straight. You want me to just sit here and talk about myself? What am I supposed to say? For some reason, I just don't think "Yo, whaddup, Londoooooon?! I be the Lestrange girl and I'm here to tear dis place up!" will work. And, since you're staring at me as if I've just sprouted antlers, I'm going to assume my original hunch was correct. As for the obvious confusion written all over your face--really, a reporter should have a better control over his facade--I've always been good at mimicking accents and mannerisms. I've lived all over the world; in all of that traveling, I've never met a way of speaking I couldn't recreate with my own tongue and teeth. Ah yes, of course the first question you must be thinking is to the wherefores of my living around the world. The answer is rather simple; it's in my name, in fact. Skybelle Alianora Lestrange. Yes, now you understand (though that was the second time I mentioned it). Whenever a person hears my surname they either become instantly suspicious or they become instantly suspicious. Those are the only possible reactions, it seems, and they are entirely too similar for my liking. Regardless, I am the youngest child and only daughter of the late Rabastan Lestrange. Yes, that makes me the niece of the late Rudolfus and Bellatrix Lestrange. No, I never met them; I was born after the Second Wizarding War. Yes, I have a rudimentary understanding of recent history. No, I am not secretly a devoted slave of the Dark Lord. Yes, I realize that you didn't even ask, but I've dealt with people asking the same set of questions for the last 15 or so years. I simply beat you to it. Oh, don't pull the nonchalant act. Do I look stupid to you? Don't answer that. You'll probably mouth off and then I'll have to hit you, and frankly, I just don't want to listen to another lecture on fighting or duals from my mother. Her voice reminds me of nails on a chalkboard. I can't even remember how many times I've been talked at about the misuse of my wand or fist. You see, sometimes it feels better to bust a knuckle on someone's jaw than it does to scream a hex or curse--don't get me wrong; a well timed Full Body-Bind can lead to some interesting and rather amusing jokes about a person's expression, but I digress. Anyway, bright red letters in the morning post are rather common for me, especially at school. I don't even tell my mother that I've had detention, and I still wind up with a Howler. I swear the woman has ears everywhere. I've de-spelled every item I own multiple times thinking she had some sort of charm allowing her to listen to my daily life. It doesn't even make sense! One would think that a witch with that much darkness in her nature wouldn't have a problem with her daughter being less than cordial at times. But of course not. For whatever reason, she expects a child of her blood to be "well behaved, even when forced to affiliate with mudbloods and blood-traitors." Oh, by the way, my mother is Alecto Carrows. See? You flinch. I figure it's safe to say you were a student at Hogwarts in '97-'98, or you know someone who was. Mother is not above resorting to...extreme...measures to ensure the obedience of her children. So no, it makes no sense whatsoever that she insist I be so well-mannered. Unfortunately, I do have to grant her one thing. I haven't gone a full week without detention halfway through my First Year, but I like to say that's beside the point. Well...I like to play a lot of pranks, and I don't put up with crap from anyone--including teachers. I've been up for expulsion four times, not that anyone's counting. It really doesn't help that I excel in curses. I'm good at Transfiguration too, but with my family tree, the only thing anyone cares about is any affiliation I might have with the Dark Arts. Add to that the fact I'm in the most noble and pure house of Salazar Slytherin and proudly use a wand with a core of liquified boomslang venom, and most just assume I'm a Death-Eater in training. First, while I may have a working knowledge of the Dark Arts, that does not necessarily make me a dark witch. Second, and let me be quite clear with this, The Dark Lord is dead! So I'm proud to be pure-blood, what of it? That doesn't mean I hate muggles or those of their blood. Nor do I believe a muggle-born is incompetent. Again with history, I'm fairly certain the name Hermione Granger means something to you. If not, what about Lily Potter? The first, not the kid I go to school with. Yeah. Harry Potter's mother. Guess what? Both were muggle-born. Both were outstanding witches. So yeah, I'm proud of my blood. I'm also proud of my red hair, but does it look like I don't like you because yours is brown? I'm not saying I like you; I'm just saying I don't dislike you because of your hair color. Don't take it personally. I don't like most people when I first meet them. They don't usually like me either, so it's all good. Also, you ask a lot of prying questions, and I'm a very open person until my father is brought into the conversation. By the way, that's your cue to not bring him or his master up again. Just a hint, since you obviously need it. Now then. Where was I? Oh yes, training to be a loyal servant of the Dark Arts. I can guarantee I'm not, most people just assume. You know what assuming does, don't you? It makes an ass out of you and me. I'll be impressed if you understand that, most people with troll in their blood don't. Oh, I'm sorry, was that too harsh? Do you need me to help you build a bridge so that you can get over that river you're crying? Too bad. Man up. Anyway. I'm not a slave to a dead guy. I just have an affinity and proclivity for the darker magics. I've never encountered a curse or hex I couldn't master in as little as a day. Again, I'm just as good with Transfiguration, but no one seems to care about that. Ask me to work with a plant or strange animal parts in a cauldron and I'm basically lost. I'm even mediocre at best with some of the most simple charms. When it comes to healing magic, I'm acceptable, I suppose, but as I've never really put any work into getting better, I blame that on my wand. Now there's a story I could tell. I mentioned the core earlier--boomslang venom, liquified. The wood is Hawthorn and Ollivander said something about it being "unyielding" when it was purchased. I have no idea what that means, as I don't even have a basic knowledge of wandlore. Frankly, I just don't care. What I do know is when he mentioned the core, my mother flipped--and to this day I'm not sure if she was proud or nervous. I know what a boomslang is, and I know the venom of one is highly dangerous, so I thought it was pretty cool that I was basically going to be carrying around enough of it to kill a few people--not that I wanted to, mind you, just the idea was cool. I've only had it for about a year and a half now. My first wand-- slightly shorter, sycamore, doxy wing core--was destroyed in a dual right before Christmas of my fifth year at Hogwarts. My shield charm failed and the tip of the wand received a poorly-casted Knockback Jinx. The wand was most displeased with my using it as if it were a shield and promptly burst into flames in my hand. A week later found my mother and I in Diagon Alley, speaking to a Mr. Ollivander--who didn't appear to be surprised in the least about my first wand's rather spectacular demise. If anything, he seemed smug about it. Such a peculiar man. Anyway, this was the first one he handed me to try that day, mentioning something about how my conflicted personality would relate to the strange and paradoxical nature of the wand. It took almost a year, but it has warmed up to me. I've been disarmed three times since I purchased it--which was no easy feat, might I add; it cost a small fortune--and it refuses to work for anyone who isn't me. I only hope such loyalty will continue, though I'm rarely bested. Like I said, I know my way around the darker magics. Enough about me. Isn't there someone else you can bother? Try my eldest brother, Daemon. I'm sure he'd be happy to sit and talk for hours. I probably have a buggart to get rid of, or a particular poltergeist to annoy, or perhaps I can talk the Transfiguration professor into another private lesson. I'm determined to master my animagus form even if it kills me. Also, I can hear the kitchen calling my name and if the teacher says no, I'm sure there's a bit of mischief I can find if I look hard enough. By the way, I will read the profile you write on me, and if I find one word I disagree with, one tiny detail that you have no business knowing or making up... I swear by whichever gods you believe in, I will make you regret it. How do you think it would feel to have a super-heated grain of sand in your neck, slowly carving its way down your body, through your flesh as it submits to the eternal laws of gravity? I can help you find out. Good. I'm glad we understand each other. Have a nice day! |
moony. twenty. eight. |
