FELDRICK, ELYSIA ANNE

[elysia anne feldrick]

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^{here's my formal • i n v i t a t i o n, • you and me go, . . .}
m a s q u e r a d i n g
lose • o u r s e l v e s • in this • c h a r a d i n g, . . .
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maybe you shouldn't, oh, kiss 'n' tell
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE QUICK INFORMATION

NAME: Elysia Anne Feldrick

NICKNAMES: El

GENDER: Femme

AGE: 23

SEXUALITY: Straight

BIRTHDAY: 10.15.1976

FORMER HOUSE: ravenclaw

GRADUATION YEAR: 1993

OCCUPATION: junior secretary to the head of the department of magical accidents and catastrophes

BLOOD LINEAGE: pureblood

SPECIAL ABILITY: does terrorizing her sibling count? nope, in all seriousness, apparition, occlumency and leligimency.

WAND TYPE: katalox wood, eight and three-quarter inches, doxy wing and manticore hair core.

BROOM: nimbus 2000, gift from her father...

CITY OF RESIDENCE: london

ALLEGIANCE: neutral, slightly more dark leanings

you were feeling like a pimp 'round them
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - INSIDE THE CHARACTER

LIKES: Spain, sherry, bourbon, her younger brother, the beach, the Carolinas, travel, cooking, cats (large ones), outsmarting people, reading, COFFEE, explosions, lighting things on fire, sangria

DISLIKES: idiots, parrots, green tea, martinis, being forced into the corner, being ogled at, English breakfasts, winter, grey skies, house cats

STRENGTHS: making things make sense, organization, creating processes and methods for getting things done, potions and similar things including recognition and reversal

WEAKNESSES: making friends, divinations (it’s all hooey), waking up in the morning, cleaning

GOALS: become at minimum head of her department, if not the minister of magic; figure life out

BOGGART: never amounting to anything. True, most people would place happiness before success but for El the two are intimately intertwined and related.

PATRONUS: Jaguar. El’s best memory is getting the owl that informed her of her job in the ministry. She was more than a wee bit happy to get out of the bar tending business and into doing something that mattered more than just pouring drinks and listening to sob stories from her customers.

DEMENTOR: It really is a toss-up between hiding in the basement of the house in Spain, clinging to Haemon and Esther, while their parents were fighting about some stupid thing that was making everything make less and less sense and the sounds of crashing vases on the walls and all the yelling and standing over her older brother David in the hospital after his big accident, wondering if he was going to live while his best friend had her firmly by the shoulders.

AMORENTIA: coffee, sangria, Valencia oranges

MIRROR OF ERISED: herself as the Minister of Magic, possible with a husband by her side

PERSONALITY: loud, pushy, arrogant, incorrigible, hot-tempered, ambitious, intelligent, determined, inventive, stubborn, out-going, trustworthy

FLAWS: can’t easily explain things more than one way, drinks a bit too much a bit too often, hides most of her emotions behind a mask of cynicism and smarm, is the kind of person where there really is no middle ground between whether you love her or hate her

you really should have kept it in your pants
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - OUTSIDE THE CHARACTER

EYE COLOR: hazel-green

HAIR COLOR: brunette

EXPECTED HEIGHT: 5'7"

SKIN TONE: Pale, gold overtones

BODY TYPE: Slender

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Smirk, smile, glower.

PLAY-BY: Katarina Invanovska

we were both young when i first saw you
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE FAMILY HISTORY

FATHER: Evan Feldrick

MOTHER: Marion Rutger-Feldrick

SIBLINGS: Carrie Feldrick-Gutierrez (deceased), David Feldrick Rutger, Haemon Feldrick, Esther Feldrick

CHILDREN: None of her own, had custody of her older sister’s daughters, Eliza and Elena Gutierrez, twins, age 8, who are now in her younger sister Esther’s custody.

SPOUSE: No.

OTHER NOTABLE FAMILY: Not any in particular with any ties that would hold up in a court of law

FAMILY REPUTATION: Not so good at the moment. Her family being whisked off to Spain by her father when she was a kidlet because he wanted to keep everyone out of the war because he was stuck between his twin brother, who was in the Death Eaters, and his older sister, who had joined up with the Order. Needless to say, her father being "the one who ran away" hasn't worked well at all for anyone. That, and a general sense of smarm and snark seems to emanate from the ENTIRE family, leading to a bit of a reputation.

SOCIAL CLASS: Upper

ETHNICITY: English with Spanish/Italian early ancestry in her mother's side of the family

BIRTH PLACE: London

i'm walkin' on sunshine and don't it feel good
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE ROLE-PLAYER INFORMATION

NAME/ALIAS: Poppy

AGE: 20

EXPERIENCE: enough

OTHER CHARACTERS: not at the moment

WHERE DID YOU FIND US?: … this is one of those moments where I just look incredulous and point at Ri

ANY SITE SUGGESTIONS: not at the moment

RP SAMPLE:

[/color] she said, biting the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Although it was an irrational response, rationality was beyond her ken at the moment. All she knew was she was hung over, she had to be at work by nine-thirty, and that there was a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. At least a spoonful of that oatmeal was begging to be launched at the smarmy quidditch player sitting next to her. Of course, at that point she would have to explain to the sports editor why she did it if news ever got back to her, but that was at times a worth risk. Getting asked, “why did you do X to Keaton Duke?” had become a normal event in her life. There were things such as publicly dumping a glass of ice-water over his head to get him “to cool off, there was a girl in short-shorts parading across the street and he was appreciating it to the point of salivation” or throwing a balloon full of glitter and blacklight paint at him on Halloween “to get him into the spirit of things, he was being boring and mopey, something about losing a game” that had gotten her dragged to that office one too many times. Sure, Nadia was an interesting person to visit from time to time, but on a normal basis? Well, Dagny felt the need to puke every time she saw the blonde-haired, blue-eyed step-daughter of that woman walk in the door of the prophet with her fighting face on. She really just needed to keep her clothes on.

She stuffed another spoonful of oatmeal as she continued to consider launching a well aimed spoonful of oatmeal at Duke’s face. It would be worth it, just to see his reaction. It wouldn’t be all that shocking coming for her, she’d done worse. And lets face it, making her best friend’s life a little more amusing or difficult was possibly one of the most entertaining things she could do. It would be payback for all the times that he had cajoled her into writing sports articles about him. She still couldn’t believe that he had managed to get her to do that. She must have been... no, she retained more sense than that when she was drunk, especially since that was the state of mind that she tended to spend more and more time in. She was sure he couldn’t have convinced her in that state. Possible, but highly unlikely.

“You know, eating solid food in front of those of us without the ability is a little bit offensive my friend,” she said, laying the spoon on the bowl of mush and picking up a fork to attack the fruit while she waited for her butter and brown sugar. If she was to attack, it would have to be before those were added to the mess, that was for sure. She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of apple as she continued to consider the idea.

Nadia be damned, she was going to have her fun this morning, it was the one and only thing available to her at the moment. She set down the fork and picked up the spoon again, stirring the soggy mess to get the colder parts more distributed throughout. She restrained her grin as she picked up the spoon as if to take a bite and then shifted it into a launch. She had to give into the food fight urge every now and then. But as a proper pureblood child, she’d never been allowed to have a proper food fight, having been informed early on that food was not for playing, but for eating instead. That was complete and utter crap. Surely there could be a happy medium in between the two extremes of food as toy and food as solely a nutritional substance. She was going to find that medium, goddamnit.

She turned back to her oatmeal, dumping in the sugar and butter when the bartender brought them to her. She watched Keaton’s reaction out of the corner of her eye as she went on pretending that absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Now all he had to do was react. True, it might not be the best reaction ever, but it would at least be something that wasn’t a straight hangover. Distraction, she had discovered, was key in overcoming the effects of having your brain turned into a melon and having a hammer taken to it. If she didn’t pay attention to it, perhaps the headache would just give up and leave her alone. That was what she could hope for at the moment. [/ul]
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