About You:
Name: Sam
Age: 13
RP Experience: Three years, give or take.
Contact Information: I happen to be in between email addresses...you can, however, reach me at my AIM SN 'mds3192'...but not often.

About the Character:
Name: Jacquelyn Kirov Hunt
Nickname(s): Jackie
Sex: Female
Age: 11; April 1, 1995
Year: Fourth year.
Classes Taken: First Year Classes:
Day One: Divination
Day Two: Herbology
Day Three: History of Magic
Day Four: Transfiguring
Day Five: Astronomy

Appearance:
Avatar: N/A
Eye Color: Blue/gray
Hair Color: Platinum blonde; it's all natural, baby.
Height: 5'0
Weight: 94 lbs.
Build: Petite; extremely thin, almost unhealthily so.

General Appearance:
Jackie's mother has always insisted that from birth, she could tell 'her little Jackie' was going to be a dancer like her Papa. It was always a fact that the widowed Hunt liked to boast about; at fancy cocktail dinner parties, even when Jackie was in her room with the door closed and double bolted, she could hear her mother going on and on about how Erik had 'ruled the Russian ballet, in his day, and Jacquelyn is sure to follow gracefully.' Many people would agree with her as well. As Jackie grew, her body was undoubtedly made to dance, and dance it did. As common in many dancers, Jackie had the great fortune of being naturally skinny since she could remember. Just barely reaching five feet, not even weighing in at one hundred pounds, Jackie is in prime position to be lifted into the air and spun around repeatedly without crushing the person below her. With all the womanly curves to boast about of a ten-year old, this also puts her in good seating for dancing - ballerinas are never curvy.

Her face, so unlike her mother's, is heart shaped, and soft looking, a bit rounded by a charming amount of baby fat. Her pale skin is dotted with no freckles, no birthmarks, and no unnatural looking scars where they shouldn't be. She has been blessed with skin 'smooth as a baby's bottom', as her mother so often said. Her large eyes, rounder then coins and framed with thick eyelashes that she so often bats sweetly, are a blue-gray that often had the effect of hypnotizing people, as Jackie has the bad habit of staring off into space. Her perfectly shaped nose and lips are carved by angels, her lips almost looking drawn on, so perfectly shaped and naturally pink as they are. This quaint picture is surrounded by a thin curtain of straight platinum blonde hair, finishing the picture so perfectly that the majority of the neighbors claim it's dyed. Her hair falling just past her graceful buttock, it is most often carefully French braided or tied into a bun, though at school she has the tendency to leave it down, though it never appears to be less perfectly combed and silky. Jackie's facial expressions, however, are a totally different story. Even when Jackie was a baby, her face seemed less animated - her face was muted, her smile was cold and practiced, she was stoic. It was as if she had an unstoppable supply of Botox coming from inside of her. Even her perfect straight, white teeth and dimples, which are quite possibly the dimpliest of dimples you’ve ever seen, don’t save her smile from looking haughty and a bit senile from up close.

If you go down past the face, though, following a milky-white neck that is long and elegant looking and holds her graceful head up so high, you will reach a pair of rounded shoulders, and if you go further, an unbelievably slim waist, both of which grow into long and graceful limbs (not un-proportionately long, of course, seeing as Jackie is irregularly small.) At home her mother makes sure every last toenail is perfectly cut and French-manicured. Her feet are dancer's feet, inevitably, and despite her mother's constant upkeep, they are still horribly disfigured and will never be up to the 'perfect' standards the rest of her seems to uphold. Still, though, Jackie's beauty routine and hygiene habits are borderline obsessive. She always has to be clean, always has to smell good, all the time, otherwise it's likely she'll skip class until she gets her hair just so, or her skin a tad softer, or other such silly things that only Jackie would care about. Her room, as well, has to be perfectly organized as well, or she can't go on living in it.

And every perfect little detail about her is closely watched by her mother. Every eyebrow is plucked, and every perfect tooth is constantly whitened to be sure that her perfect smile and her winning dimples aren't lost with tooth decay, every nail maintained, every hair as vibrant and healthy as if it were brand new. No one can say Jackie wasn't born a natural beauty - that much is obvious. But Jackie always had the creeping feeling when she was younger that he mother was somehow forcing her to be 'perfect'. As she grew older, this silly suspicion, this youthful superstition was quickly disregarded, but she can't help but wonder.

Wand: 10 inches; cherry wood; core of fairy hair. Jackie loves her wand like mothers love their children, and pampers it like no mother should. All this love seems to do nothing to cure it of it's extreme affliction of being moodier then an elephant with a thorn stuck in it's foot, though, and it's violent mood swings and temperamental behavior make it quite the unpredictable partner. Despite all that, however, it's a dream when it comes to charms, and always has the faint odor of lavender, a trait which only causes Jackie to be more in love.
Other: Jackie, although she dislikes it, has one of the strangest mix of accents that can be found. Her mother's slight southern twang, along with a faint Russian slur, and a whole lot of a fake-y high-society British type deal make Jackie's speech a rare find, and interesting to listen to. She tries her best to cover it up, but in the end it does no good, as she always lets it loose if she looses her temper, which is...often.

Personality:
General Personality:
Jackie grew up having everyone who met her put her into a box, taken out when needed, put away when unwanted. People she knew judged her by insignificant details, by her outer appearance, they requiring no real inner beauty to accept her and like her - and despite all her hate towards these cruel dispositions, she has adopted them as her own. By the time Jackie has laid her unkind eyes upon you, you already have a nickname, a label, a future. She already knows all there is to know about you and she is prepared to mold that into something she can use, someone she wants to keep around. Jackie is calculating, a rigid machine, and is almost too good at what she does to be as young as she is.

Jackie doesn’t believe in having real friends - in the immortal words of Shakespeare, ‘care’s an enemy to life!’. Jackie tries to be as detached as possible, to be this unstoppable vessel of no emotion. This vessel is often tested, though, and it’s harder outer core is often pierced by a sharp arrow of what might be a relationship. It has yet to be sunk, or tied down, but Jackie still doubts herself late at night when she ponders and questions herself, prodding in the back the sleeping monster that is her emotions, waiting to be woken up, the unknown adventure of feeling in front of it.

Jackie is human, though many have their theories, and has strengths, and though she won’t admit it, her fair share of weaknesses and fears. She is a girl who enjoys power - she likes to be in control, to be in charge. She is a perfectionist, and is a horrible group worker, because where there is a group, there will be a Jackie to boss the group around. She respects very few, and the few she does respect she reveres, holds in the highest honor, worships them, and will hear nothing against their name. She does appreciate the knowledge of her elders, and milks them for all their worth. Whether she will be enjoyable while she is learning is entirely up to her, how she feels that day, and how much of a prat the teacher is. She does enjoy learning, though, when she can use it to her benefit, but she has a condescending nature and a lazy outlook on school that earns her a regular spot in detention.

Jackie is a very competitive person, and throws herself whole-heartedly into any competition she might fall into. She is ruthless and has a sweet tooth for revenge, and enjoys nothing more then cooking up plots for ruining lives and tearing down reputations. She is often blindsided by rage, glory or worship, because as they are the few emotions she allows herself to feel, she feels them very strongly, in large doses. She doesn’t trust anyone - it would be a great compliment, not to mention an accomplishment, if one were to earn her trust. You’d have to be fairly spectacular, and just as witty as she. You’d have to be able to keep up with her sharp tongue and her mind, which is so advanced and yet so childish at the same time. If you are to gain her trust, though, you needn't hold tight, because she's fiercely loyal to those she chooses to be.

Jackie is very sensitive about certain things, even if she chooses to hide them and ignore them and make up for them by being cold hearted and cruel. She is sensitive about her parents - her mother, who, strictly through the grapevine, is an evil widow who planned Erik’s death and Jackie’s giant leap into the ballet community. Though this might be true, she’s been the only constant in Jackie’s life. Moving all the time, never being able to get any friends, much less keep them, Jackie needed someone who was always there. And though they don’t act like it around each other, both of them know that the other’s is their shoulder to cry on. Never bring up Jackie’s father around her, unless you’re really brave and incredibly foolish, and are prepared to get beaten with a club. Jackie has mixed feelings about her father. She’s sure if he still was here that she’d love him - or maybe it just comforts her to think that. But she can’t help but be a bit mad at him for leaving her - she knows deep inside that it was her mother’s fault he died, and even if it wasn’t she couldn’t blame it on him, but she wants to be angry at someone, and she can’t really be angry at the only person who she can really talk to.

Jacquelyn Kirov Hunt's temper is a monster that shouldn't be played with by those unprepared for the horrors that it has in store for those who folly enough to light it's fuse. Jackie is so hot headed, in fact, that her mother even avoids going out to eat with her, because she’s bound to find something wrong, somewhere, with someone. Jackie continually comes up with new reasons to go off at someone, and normally it isn’t their fault at all, but nonetheless, she will. It’s her signature thing; throwing tantrums and the like. She guesses that she’s done it all her life; it’s how she gets her way.

Jackie has never taken to any other physical activities outside of dancing. She feels foolish on a broomstick and is opposed to breaking out in any sort of sweat, when she does she insists it's glisten. She is, nonetheless, a fantastic dancer, and regularly workouts and practices at school, determined to stay in shape so she can still dance over the summer and holidays, which she does. Outside of dancing, Jackie has no real hobbies. She doesn't care for music, she's hopeless at other creative activities (outside of acting to enable her to be the fantastic liar that she is), and the only sports she really plays are dance and gymnastics. She often wastes time reading, as she prefers running away to a make-believe world of fairies and dragons then to her real one full of....the same thing. One hobby that she does have, though, is cleaning. She's somewhat of a neat freak, and will drop everything if she or any of her possessions gets in the tiniest way messy. She's obsessed with organization and hygiene, and is rather repulsed by anyone or anything that doesn't hold her standards.

There is a good person hiding underneath the glamour and guts, but until she’s found, Jackie has no problem continuing to be the biggest bitch there ever was. Being a lazy, maniacal, lying perfectionist is all she's ever known.

Likes: Power, working alone, dancing, ballet, her mother, pink, glamour, money, perfection, compliments, small dogs, doing her hair, her wand, laughing, lying, reading, charms, potions, competition, winning, arguing, learning, bossing people around, challenges, gossiping, being liked, popularity, shopping, fame, classical music, talking, going to bed earely, waking up early, pillows, winter, cold weather, sleeping, clothing, talking about herself, being organized, hygene, taking showers, taking baths, bubbles. Among other things.
Dislikes: Talking about her family, being outsmarted, working in a group, being bossed around, babies (kids in general), authority, concentrating, sitting still, people who are better then her at things, being the worst, losing, sweating, broomsticks, transfiguration, obesity, food, soda, being teased, being talked about, technology, large dogs, cats, loud birds, rock music, people richer then her, Muggles, tall girls, fat girls, girls skinnier then her, ugly girls, girls prettier then her, staying up late, summer, hot weather, humidity, frizzy hair, imperfection, not being the best, boring books, modern art, being disorganized, clutter, mess, being dirty. There's more, but to list them all would be a bore.

History:
Alisa Joanne Hunt was born and christened in Big Spring, Texas. The fifth born child of eight, Alisa’s parents probably didn’t make the best decision in having so many children; they were never very well-off financially. Tom Hunt, her father, had inherited a bakery that had been in the family for years, and consequently the whole family worked there growing up. It was a quaint little business and a cute idea - the whole family working together - but Alisa’s family was never as tight-knit as they pretended to be.

Never really getting a proper education, as she and all her siblings were sent to a very mediocre high school, as soon as she graduated high school, she left home without looking back for a second, as all her older siblings had, and as all her younger ones would too, with the exception of one, who her father would be sure to shove the family business on just so he could run away as well.

Alisa’s first destination was New York; as many little girls dream, she had always, for as long as she could remember, wanted to be a dancer. Her parents, never being able to afford any dance lessons for her, had never supported her ambition, but she had never given up on the dream. She went there, got a job at a dumpy fast-food place, got an apartment that was overpriced and not well kept, and soon after stated dance lessons.

All too soon, she realized she was no good at dancing. She packed her things, and headed back to Texas, only to find nothing and nobody waiting for her; the ‘family business’ had been sold to someone outside the family, and all her relatives had left. No way to contact anyone, and not a friend in the world, she tried many different places, with no luck, and eventually turned into some bad rock band‘s groupie, just to say she had a purpose in life.

One drunken night (she had many of these, lately), though, she decided she was going to Europe, seeing as she had always been a slave to the Russian ballet. She blew all her money on a plane ticket and a couple hours later, she found herself in Russia.

With no money, no job, no place to stay and no friends, she quickly had to resort to ways not many would resort to. And on another drunken night, seeing as she still often enjoyed them as much as she could (they were her only escape), she happened to run into Erik Kirov, a man she had only dreamed of until then. He was a former star of the Russian ballet, and we say former here because he had long since reached his prime - he was now bald, fat and the only proof that he was, in fact, ‘Erik’ was probably his horrible feet; because only a dancer could have such monsters at the end of their limbs.

Not wasting the opportunity of an old fan, he took poor Alisa back to his place, which was surprisingly magnificent - he obviously hadn’t wasted his fortune. Well, one thing led to another, and bing-bang-boom: next thing Alisa knew, she was pregnant. She wasted no time in telling Erik this, and much to Alisa’s shock, he was pleased. She soon moved in with him, as they were to be married, and he was constantly gushing about how much he had always wanted a child, and how he knew that they were rushing into things, but that they had to think of their baby.

Alisa, who had been hoping that he would be scared off, give her some cash, and run, was in utter shock. She hadn’t wanted to keep the baby. But her small mind worked well under pressure, and she soon had a scheme planned. As soon as she was written into the will, as soon as they wed, Erik had a terrible accident - only one month before his unborn child was due. In his old age, Alisa had explained to the press, he had tripped on their grand staircase in the front, and had fallen to his death.

The plan worked perfectly - Alisa, had been, of course, suspected by the public (and the police) of killing her husband, but they had no proof - she and her baby were free, with all of Erik’s fortune to waste. Unfortunately, Erik wasn’t as stupid as Alisa had hoped. He had given her hardly anything at all in his will, and Alisa was kicked out of his mansion in Russia with the meager amount Erik had left her, and she fled the burning eyes of the seemingly ’all-knowing’ public, who had developed a severe dislike for the woman, and she escaped to Portsmouth.

It is there where she had her baby, there where the brilliant idea of a pampered princess-dancer came to he, and there where she slowly worked out how she would once more fall upon fortune. Jackie came on April 1, 1990 - a little earlier then expected, but these things happen. Alisa was at least happy to have someone to hold, someone who was, probably, her last chance at money.

She started Jackie in a very high-end dancing school as soon as possible. She managed to hold down up to as many as six jobs at a time, and she had her work cut out for her, seeing as all of her money was being poured into Jackie’s dancing education. Lucky for her, it wasn’t wasted. Jackie took to dancing like a fish does to water. She quickly made a name for herself, and once again, Alisa’s plan appeared to be working.

When Jackie turned eleven, she had already turned into the pampered princess we know her as today, and was respected and revered in the world of dance. She had gotten scholarships to all the top dancing schools in Britain, and had her choice of them. But then, fate intervened, as it has the terrible habit of doing, and Jackie received her letter to attend Beauxbatons.

It's hard to say whether Jackie is a Halfblood or Muggle-born. She would prefer the former, obviously, but it's something that she'll have to live with not knowing. In any case, she's here now, and eager to start her schooling, eager to get away from her mother for a while, away from all those wretched girls that she spends her days with. Then again, she realizes that this school might not be any different, but she figures learning to do magic will be a great enough pay off.

Family: Alisa Joanne Hunt; 36; mother. Erik Kirov; deceased; father. Borya Kirov; 89; grandfather (Erik's side). Lena Kirov; deceased; grandmother (Erik's side). Sonya Kirov; deceased; aunt (Erik's side). Thomas Daniel Hunt; unknown; grandfather (Alisa's side). Bethany Lane Hunt; unknown; grandmother (Alisa's side). Jacob Hunt; unknown; uncle (Alisa's side). Fiona Erin Hunt; unknown; aunt (Alisa's side). Liam Kingston Hunt; unknown; uncle (Alisa's side). Anthony Richard Hunt; unknown; uncle (Alisa's side). Caleb Hunter Hunt; unknown; uncle (Alisa's side). Jennifer Anne Hunt; unknown; aunt (Alisa's side).

Sample RP:
"Mom!" Jackie clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth impatiently, sitting neatly on the edge of her perfectly made bed, legs crossed and arms folded, her posture as rigid as the mirror that was sitting straight across from her, leaning against the wall. She sighed very loudly, tapping the foot that wasn't in the air rather violently on the ground. It was answered by a loud banging from the apartment below.

"KEEP IT DOWN UP THERE, PRINCESS! IT'S WHEEL OF FORTUNE!" Jackie looked at her floor in disgust, wishing she had more civilized neighbors, or better yet, no neighbors at all. She glanced at the door while she let herself get away with this wishful thinking.

"Mother!" she said, only about ten times louder and twenty more frightening then the previous cry. Her mother appeared out of nowhere, looking flustered and not put together very well. Jackie gave her mother a half pitying, half repulsed look, and got up, clicking her tongue once again, obviously commenting in her own unique way of her mother's fly-away hair, her dirty apron, and her mismatched socks. Her mother, most likely used to it by this time, just let her dull, tired eyes follow her daughter around the room where she paced.

"What's wrong, Jack?” Jackie sneered at the mention of this nickname, one she had deemed many a time unsuitable for her. It made it sound like she was a boy, she had insisted, but her mother never really seemed to get when she playfully stuck a toe over then line, and when she’s run forty yards past the thing. Granted, this line isn’t very thick, but Jackie thinks she makes herself clear enough. Still, Jackie let this horrible misuse of her name slip, though. She had much more important things to shout about.

“I’m packing for school.” she started matter of factly, still pacing in front of her mother. As tired as the old woman looked, she didn’t sit down on the pristine looking, baby pink satin sheets; she knew better. All she did was nod, only it looked a fearful task when she did it, kind of like she was bobbing for apples in mid air, like her head weighed twenty pounds, and her neck was a scale with only ten on the other side. Jackie looked at her out of the corner of her eye, but kept going, taking large steps, still managing to walk as if on air. She looked rather like a general addressing her troops; maybe troops of toddlers riding on unicorns armed with Cupid’s bow and arrows, but a general nonetheless.

“I’m packing for school, and I was matching my uniform with my accessories, and it doesn’t.” Her mother gave her a bewildered look.

“What doesn’t do what?” she said, but she was slowed in the middle by a yawn that had apparently taken her by surprise. “My, oh my, I’m tired.” Jackie ignored the last statement and went straight on to answer her mother’s question.

“My uniform doesn’t match with any of my things!” when she saw how this had but a small effect on her mother, she collapsed on the shiny, mirror like wooden floor, in a pathetic looking slump, and started whimpering. “I can’t go to school like this!” she blubbered, and broke out into a loud, but sympathy inducing cry. Her mother sighed, much like her daughter had moments before, and got on her knees to comfort the wilted flower in front of her.

((PS: I know, I know. Good first impression, creating a dummy account along with a dummy post....because I didn't know my character's second surname. Oi vay. Anyway...hope you'll give me a second try! Deleting the first account and the first post would be....uh...magical! Thank you! My deepest apologies, hope you like Jackie anyway!))