Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2014 9:40:54 GMT -8
RITA SELENE SKEETER-- 16 -- HUFFLEPUFF
full name:
Rita Selene Skeeter
nicknames:
Ri
age:
16
birthplace:
Wales
blood-type:
Half-Blood
sexuality:
Bisexual
year/occupation:
Sixth Year
three words to describe character:
Pushy, Smart, Sneaky
play by:
Kathryn Newton
Rita was mad, practically livid. So her paper for the Daily Prophet had been declined, just because she was “too young.” Seriously? She kicked a candle over into the roaring fireplace, and watched as the wax melted in rivulets down the candlestick. Oops, she thought. Didn’t that candlestick belong to Phineas Nigellus? All her life, she’d been rejected. So what if her father had been a Hufflepuff? She’d always wanted to be a Ravenclaw. But, no; she’d ended up in the worst house of all, where the only thing people could do was be loyal to their friends. Most of them were only semi-intelligent muggleborns who sat around chatting about Herbology and dreamy Quidditch players. Ever since she her first step into the common room, she knew she wasn’t going to be like them. She wanted to be the darkly brilliant writer who made words dance across the page and into the hearts of wizards all over Great Britain. She wanted to capture the dark side of the public icons everyone adored. What secrets lay beneath their crisp suits, cascading curls, and false public images, bright smiles stretched wide? She’d find out, and she’d make the Daily Prophet itself green with envy.
Rita took a breath and steeled herself. She’d been practicing this since she was fourteen, taking the potions, practicing the spells, eventually, transforming without a wand. She thought the magic words, and watched her legs disappear, her chest, legs, arms, until she was merely a small insect on the rich red patterned rug. The pain was agony, and she cried out, but no sound came out; she was now a beetle, small and shimmery greenish-black, exoskeleton as iridescent as an abalone shell. Around her eyes were small dots, like her favorite cat-eye glasses. If a beetle could smile, she would have. The pain slowly faded, and she took a small step in her new body. All of a sudden, she lost her beetle balance and landed on her back. Sheer terror flooded her as she wriggled her legs, desperately trying to right herself. Phew! She was back on her many legs. She crawled forward and spread her tiny clear wings, flying a few steps. She could do this. She would show them all.
Rita Selene Skeeter
nicknames:
Ri
age:
16
birthplace:
Wales
blood-type:
Half-Blood
sexuality:
Bisexual
year/occupation:
Sixth Year
three words to describe character:
Pushy, Smart, Sneaky
play by:
Kathryn Newton
Rita was mad, practically livid. So her paper for the Daily Prophet had been declined, just because she was “too young.” Seriously? She kicked a candle over into the roaring fireplace, and watched as the wax melted in rivulets down the candlestick. Oops, she thought. Didn’t that candlestick belong to Phineas Nigellus? All her life, she’d been rejected. So what if her father had been a Hufflepuff? She’d always wanted to be a Ravenclaw. But, no; she’d ended up in the worst house of all, where the only thing people could do was be loyal to their friends. Most of them were only semi-intelligent muggleborns who sat around chatting about Herbology and dreamy Quidditch players. Ever since she her first step into the common room, she knew she wasn’t going to be like them. She wanted to be the darkly brilliant writer who made words dance across the page and into the hearts of wizards all over Great Britain. She wanted to capture the dark side of the public icons everyone adored. What secrets lay beneath their crisp suits, cascading curls, and false public images, bright smiles stretched wide? She’d find out, and she’d make the Daily Prophet itself green with envy.
Rita took a breath and steeled herself. She’d been practicing this since she was fourteen, taking the potions, practicing the spells, eventually, transforming without a wand. She thought the magic words, and watched her legs disappear, her chest, legs, arms, until she was merely a small insect on the rich red patterned rug. The pain was agony, and she cried out, but no sound came out; she was now a beetle, small and shimmery greenish-black, exoskeleton as iridescent as an abalone shell. Around her eyes were small dots, like her favorite cat-eye glasses. If a beetle could smile, she would have. The pain slowly faded, and she took a small step in her new body. All of a sudden, she lost her beetle balance and landed on her back. Sheer terror flooded her as she wriggled her legs, desperately trying to right herself. Phew! She was back on her many legs. She crawled forward and spread her tiny clear wings, flying a few steps. She could do this. She would show them all.
LAYNA -- NONE SO FAR
