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 Orli's Children
veralidaine
Posted: Dec 5 2012, 12:12 AM


Member


Group: Members
Posts: 11
Member No.: 66
Joined: 4-December 12









Natalie Elizabeth Moore is my main character for modern, modern fantasy and Marauders Era. Basically she started out as a self-insert when I was younger, and to an extent, the elements of myself in her have become who she is.

Natalie has gone through several different incarnations, with several different tragedies befalling her - the last time it was her best friend-turned-fiancé being murdered on Christmas during the First War.

Her personality though has rarely varied. She is very well-mannered with a touch of Southern charm, and almost sugary sweet. She drank only occasionally, never did drugs, and lost her virginity to the boy who would eventually become her fiancé. At Hogwarts, she was the resident Cupcake Queen. She was a Hufflepuff, and spent the majority of her free time in the kitchens, trying out another new recipe. She would even carry treats for her friends and favorite professors.

Just don't let the gentleness fool you into labeling her a doormat. Though Natalie hates to tell people no, that doesn't mean that she can't. Unless you were somehow on her shit list, Natalie would literally give you the clothes off her back. Think of her as Neville. Adorkable and shy, but not afraid to stand up for her friends or her beliefs.







Tarawiel Meliara Eluch is my character for anything medieval or medieval fantasy. I have a background written up for her that is nearly 4,000 words, but it is not commonly used. I wrote it for an application to a forum two years ago, but her real history hasn't even been fully nailed down.

Really nothing about her has been hammered out. Her looks and personality rarely change though. Tari has always had long dark curls and vivid green eyes - and I mean vivid. The color is somewhere between mint and seafoam, so it's a huge part of her description, having such an unusual eye color. She is right around average height and sturdier than Natalie. Natalie is also a hell of a lot nicer than Tari. Tari can be a downright bitch sometimes. She's snarky and cynical and half the time won't give a damn that she hurt your feelings. That's just how she is. She's used to dealing with men, and has a superiority complex when it comes to other women - she is intelligent, sexy and confident, and damn if she doesn't know it.

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veralidaine
Posted: Dec 8 2012, 06:07 PM


Member


Group: Members
Posts: 11
Member No.: 66
Joined: 4-December 12



This is Natalie's most recent app for her as a student at Hogwarts. It was a lot prettier on the original site.

QUOTE


NATALIE E. MOORE
HUFFLEPUFF. SIXTH.
SIXTEEN. JULY 2.
HALFBLOOD


nicknames
wand
patronus
nat, natie, nat-attack, the american
apple and dogwood, thunderbird feather, 9”, sturdy
Natalie Moore is nothing but Southern grace in cutoff overalls, and unruly curls still up in yesterday's bun.

Her favorite of all the homes she has ever lived in was a little bungalow-style house in Midtown with a porch, and a swing. The eclectic style of the house was offset perfectly by her mother’s equally eclectic taste in décor. Natalie remembers the red of the kitchen walls, and how her parents’ bedroom was a sunny yellow. In the past, Natalie sent her sister a letter, asking if she had remembered their first home, and Emily had replied that she remembered the window seat of their shared bedroom. She had remembered the fireplace in the living room that they lit only once in the six years the girls lived in the house. Now, Natalie remembered the vaguely Spanish house with the brightly patterned curtains and dark wooden furniture with a touch of sadness. For a house so full of light, it had certainly seen its fair share of darkness. Thinking back on when she was a child, and knowing what she does know now about her father’s affair, Natalie has come to the conclusion that her father and now-stepmother had been at it for some time. They had to have been. After all, she was only seven when the divorce was finalized. Finalized. And knowing that her father had only been pretending to be a loving husband for – who knows – all of her childhood, those memories of the mantel strung in garland and Christmas lights and carving pumpkins for Halloween with him seem horribly fake.

Whenever she’s asked about her parents divorce and current relationship, Natalie simply shrugs and says that they must’ve gotten tired of living a lie. They gave up pretending to be happy and in love. Even for their two daughters, it wasn't worth it.

Natalie vividly remembers her fifth birthday party. There were multicolored balloons tied to anything and everything; there was a table laid out with all sorts of food - muggle chips and dip and wizarding snacks; her grandmother had even baked a rainbow layered cake. It was supposed to be a pool party. Not a single child showed up. Neither did her father. She remembers this clearly, while her eleventh birthday and the arrival of her Hogwarts letter is nothing but static.

To be honest, Natalie doesn't have that many memories of the time before her parents split up and began openly hating each other. Sure, she remembers what their first house looked like on the inside, and she remembers the failure and heartache of her birthday party that her aunt hosted, but those are among the few. It's almost as if before their divorce, Natalie only existed in a dream. And her parents break up was a splash of cold water.

Going to Hogwarts was like sitting in front of a roaring fire after that soaking – Natalie was able to get away from her father pretending to still love his two daughters, and she found herself in like company. After all, what eleven year old hasn’t been mortally offended by something their parents had done? Or maybe it was something they hadn’t done. Natalie rarely asked. She knew her problems with her family were not nearly so harsh as she made them out to be. At least both of her parents were still living, and at least they both actively claimed to love her.  She tried not to complain too often about her daddy issues.

Natalie's first couple of years at Hogwarts were a blur. The only night she remembers distinctly before her third year is the night of her sorting. The boat ride had been nerve-wracking on its own. The boats were tiny, with low sides, but at least the night had been clear and cool and breathtaking. The sight of the castle looming on its hill, the windows glittering golden in the night sky… It was something Natalie could never forget. And it seemed like almost immediately she had found herself in the Great Hall, in front of every other student and member of staff, the Sorting hat hovering over her bronze curls. The only sound Natalie registered was hammering of her own heart.


”Oh… well isn’t this interesting. A Moore. I hadn’t expected to find another of your blood.”

What are you talking about?

”Nothing, nothing. When your father was a boy, it seemed his life’s ambition to get out of Great Britain. And judging by you, I’d say he managed to succeed.”

Well, yes. I grew up in Tennessee.

”Yes. Fascinating. Now hold still. Yes… now. Let’s see. Hmmm, loyalty in abundance I see. And a good, strong moral compass. Must’ve gotten that from your mother.”

I guess… I know where my parents were sorted, and I know the reputations of both, but…


She shrugged, and eventually, when the Sorting Hat shouted the house she would belong to, Natalie completely missed it. It was only when a nudge on her shoulder pushed her nearly off the stool that Natalie noticed the entire table of students cheering and gesturing for her to join them.

Her mother wrote to tell her how proud she was of her little girl. Her father’s owl simply read “congratulations.”

Natalie's first years at Hogwarts are a blur. She remembers few specific incidents - receiving her first (and only) detention, nearly melting her potions cauldron her third year - but as a whole, it was just a whirl of classes, feasts and assignments that were turned in late, if at all. She was smart as a whip – her father had called her that all her life, and he was right. Too bad Nat couldn't be bothered to actually do much of anything that resembled work. The professors had been baffled, when by all accounts, Natalie had actually spent a good portion of nearly every day in the library.

Window-seats make extremely comfortable, and convenient, midday nap spots.

A pushover. That’s what Natalie was, and she knew it. She hardly cared for her grades  - if a professor questioned her about her lack of completed assignments, Natalie would bow her head, shamefaced, and apologize, promising to try harder. Do better. And once in a blue moon, she succeeded. She might turn in that two-foot long essay, make an O on an in-class quiz… That sort of thing. Then next assignment, she’d be right back to excuses and looking ashamed. A pushover. She rarely stood up for herself, and especially not against an authority figure. Growing up, manners had been drilled into her, and along with them, respect for those in power.

She had also decided that she would be a lioness, Scarlett O’Hara and Holly Golightly while she was growing up. Both lionesses and Scarlett were fierce and did as they pleased, and damn the consequences. Holly Golightly had been free. As a little girl who had seen the pain of love and betrayal, the idea of being free from it all had sounded perfectly peachy. She could be fierce and free. She could.

Four years later, and Natalie sang a rather different tune. There was Emily, as fierce and independent as Nat had always wanted to be. Emily. Her sister and as different from Natalie as the moon was from the sun. And Emily was the sun – bright and fiery and full of life – but there was an edge to her, an anger simmering below the surface that threatened to blast forth and blind whoever was fool enough to be watching. Natalie loved her little sister, and therein lay the hindrance of her ever becoming Scarlett O’Hara or Holly Golightly. Scarlett never truly loved another soul besides her own. She had married the man her sister loved simply to get back at the man who had scorned her – not a thought crossed her mind for the emotional damage done to either by her actions. And Holly, well… Holly had left her husband and children behind for the chance to live the life she wanted, and resisted even the mention of being tied to another creature, even by imaginary bonds. It was something that sounded fine and dandy to Nat when she was a child, but as she had grown up she had realized something – only those with a heart of stone could ever be that free, that fierce. What Natalie never realized was the fierceness she did possess.

Every Hogwarts house has been associated with specific character qualities. Qualities such as ambition and greed, or courage and ferocity, or intellect and wit, or even loyalty and tolerance – each are admirable in their own way, and combined, they are even more so. Natalie’s defining qualities were exactly the reason she could never have been fierce like Scarlett or free like Holly, and for that she could thank her family for being so wonderfully fucked up. It was something that had kept little miss Moore up at night – the thought that if she hadn’t been so affected by betrayal and a lack of love, would she have learned to love so deeply? Honestly, it was a question Natalie never wanted answered.

She is thirteen again, bitter and hurt by her father’s awkward attempts at being a father again. Barely a week since stepping off the Hogwarts Express at the Hogsmeade station, and already she had received an owl from him. Smiling, joking with the girls around her, Natalie had reached for the letter without a second thought. Next thing she knew, a boy she had never seen before was crouched in her face, asking what was the matter. Patrick, as he had introduced himself, filled in the gap for her – the letter telling her that Emily had been enrolled into a boarding school in Austria, how she’d fled the Great Hall and must’ve stumbled into the nearest empty classroom. She had been crying her eyes out when Patrick had found her, and to this day, Natalie hates talking about how she and her best friend met. It’s rather embarrassing for her to admit that she had been so overwhelmed by hatred and anger, and pity, that she had completely lost her bearings. Frankly she was amazed that Patrick had ever spoken to her again. She had been certain that she’d run him off – after all, that was the first time he had ever had any sort of contact with “the American” and she had been bawling.

First impressions are everything. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

Patrick Pepito Bautista and Natalie Elizabeth Moore. Word is that they are secretly married. Natalie likes to think that they are siblings – at least, she knows him better than she really even knows her own stepbrothers, and they way they bicker… He’s started trying to go by “Ricky” and Natalie loves to call him Pepito just to get a rise out of him. He took her rainbow assortment of inks and repoured them into the wrong wells to get back at her, because he knows that she is obsessive about how her schoolwork and supplies are organized. Pulling pranks and play fighting, it’s what Nat and Pat have grown up doing. There were tender moments along with the jokes, though. Comforting each other through breakups, collaborating on projects and studying for tests, writing time-capsule letters to each other one night to be opened only after they had both graduated, and every so often Pepito would attempt to bake something with Nat. Of course, that usually ended in cake batter fights or Natalie having to swat his hand out of the mixing bowl. The House Elves love the two of them, and persistently ask if they might serve at the Miss and Mister’s wedding. They had both laughed at that. True, Natalie and Patrick were nearly inseparable and they could be fiercely protective of each other, but there had never been anything but friendship between them. Natalie adored that she had a guy to count on, for anything, without him joking that she could repay him with this or that sexual favor. Honestly, it shocked her that he was actually straight. She thought it was hilarious that people joked about them being a couple without realizing it – she knew how it looked for them to be so close, but she couldn’t care less about the gossip circulating the Hogwarts corridors. There were better things to do with her life than worry about who said what about her.

Pepito was the only one she counted as a legitimate friend anyway.

An American in a British boarding school – that's all Natalie could ever amount to while a student. And it was something she was painfully aware of each day - her heart ached dully for hours on end. On warm summer nights, she would sit by the lake and stare up at the English stars, missing the heat lightning and the humidity of her Memphis nights. She missed the cicadas singing in the treetops, and the fireflies dancing across the lawn. She remembered visiting Yellowstone Park when she was eleven, and she remembered how fiercely she had loved wolves, until she came face to face with them. How beautiful and free they had always seemed… Well, chain-link fences tend to shatter illusions like that. Natalie remembered the simultaneous feelings of disappointment and... shame. Seeing the wolves in their enclosure, trotting along the worn paths in front of tourists, Nat was almost ashamed of them. Ashamed of what they had become, and the fact that she had been naive enough to worship the idea of a free wolf. Of course, now Natalie could better identify with those captive wolves. She had been one for years. It all went back to her wishing she could be Scarlett O’Hara or Holly Golightly, and how growing up had made her realize that those women were miserable in their lives as free and fierce ladies. Scarlett refused to admit her love for Rhett and in the end, it destroyed them both. Holly tried desperately to run away from love, and having to actually care about anything, but despite her best efforts, love found her.

There is a reason Moulin Rouge! is Natalie’s favorite movie. “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return” has become something of a mantra for the young woman.

Her parents’ marriage had foundered. Natalie was determined that the same thing would never, ever happen to her. It terrified her.

Natalie Elizabeth Moore is so much more than Southern grace and hospitality in cutoff overalls.

ORLI. TWENTY THREE
PM FOR MSN OR TUMBLR


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veralidaine
Posted: Dec 22 2012, 02:34 AM


Member


Group: Members
Posts: 11
Member No.: 66
Joined: 4-December 12



So this is a new take on Nat's app for an upcoming forum. It's not finished yet, but you guys tell me what you think.

A true Southern woman can fry a chicken up in a matter of minutes. A true Southern woman can turn an insult with just one simple phrase. A true Southern woman is a master of deception - she can be sweet as pie and sly as a fox in the same instant. She will fix you a casserole as a housewarming gift, but don’t you forget to return her dish! Or “bless your heart,” you’ll have made yourself a wonderful enemy.

Natalie Moore, being a Southern woman, has cultivated several of these life skills. Growing up in Memphis, Tennessee left indelible marks on the little brunette. Her grandmothers taught her that feeding the people you care about is the simplest and best way to give them love. Nat remembers spending the most time around her Nana – her mother’s mother. There were grilled cheeses on rainy days; there was fried chicken at least once a week; and always lemon icebox pie in the fridge if they had catfish for dinner. “You always have to have a lemon dessert after fish,” Nana told her. “My mother taught me that, and that’s how I was raised.” Natalie always grinned whenever she managed to get a-hold of catfish in London, for she rarely made a lemon dessert to accompany it. Every so often though, she would feel guilty and whip up a lemon pie, just for her Nana. And every time Natalie did, she would send off a little note (by muggle post) telling her Nana that she had used her recipes and was thinking of her. Usually a week would go by, maybe two, before Nat would receive an answering note, beautifully penned in her grandmother’s precise script. It always made Nat smile, no matter what was going on in her own life.

As a student at Hogwarts, Natalie had written to Nana frequently, asking for this or that recipe, or for general life advice. And her Nana had always obliged – Natalie could even imagine the older woman’s sweet smile as she read. It was Nana who had suggested that Natalie take up cooking in the first place, since it was apparent how homesick Nat was in England. “The food here is awful,” she wrote when she was thirteen and tired everything that was not-American. Her mother had told her that she would simply get used to it. Nana, on the other hand, had the answer. A large package was delivered to her a few days later, and Natalie had laughed through tears when she opened it. Her grandmother had sent her multiple recipe cards, including the coveted Christmas and Easter yeast roll recipe, and a handmade apron. The box also contained other cooking odds and ends, and Natalie was the happiest child that year. Of course, she did her best to keep the utensils and recipes out of sight of her professors. After all, students weren’t allowed in the school kitchens.

She broke that rule within three months.

What had originally started out as a hobby to keep her from feeling too homesick developed into an obsession. When Natalie was not in class, there was a ninety percent chance that she was in the kitchen, making her mom’s chili if it was too cold out, or maybe baking a pecan pie just for the hell of it.

Her mom’s side of the family had taught her how to cook, but it was her stepmom that taught Natalie how to bake. Lisa was best described as a good cook, but a fantastic baker. She was famous for her Christmas cookie tins and her red velvet cake that tasted almost as if she had frosted it with straight butter. Natalie’s cousins and stepbrothers would literally fight over Lisa’s desserts. And it as in Natalie’s fifth year at Hogwarts that she decided to give some of Lisa’s recipes a whirl. She made the red velvet cake for her best friend’s birthday, and Pepito swears to this day that that was the moment he fell in love with her. Natalie started keeping a small tin in her bag, and was known for giving tidbits of toffee, cookies, lemon squares, caramels, truffles, and anything else bite sized to her friends, professors or to the younger students who seemed depressed or stressed out. At the end of each term, she had to carry a spare tin or she found herself mobbed.

As the years went by, several of the Hogwarts teaching staff grew suspicious. Natalie had always claimed that the sweets she carried were sent to her from home, but the ones who paid attention noticed that she would have fresh and different treats between arrivals of packages. She served one or two detentions, but most of the professors didn’t mind this sort of rule-breaking. Sure, she was sneaking into the kitchens and out of bed after hours, but that meant that she had cranberry orange scones for them, or butterscotch blondies.

Natalie graduated in the top percentage of her class, but magic had never been a huge part of her life. She was a baker, and a chef, but not everyone in the magical world agreed that becoming a baker was the best course of action for her to take. After all, the war was growing. Hadn’t she had a knack for defensive magic and potionsmaking? So Natalie let them convince her to try for an Auror. The training was vigorous and intriguing – she particularly loved the secrecy and disguises. But her heart was not in it. Natalie was twenty two when she quit. Too many people she had grown up with were either dead, or completely changed. It was too hard for her to see the wide-eyed and eager to please children of her childhood reduced to hardened and empty shells.

As an Auror, Natalie had known of Dumbledore’s organization, and while she lauded the idea, the execution was almost appalling. Alastor Moody had been brilliant in his time, and working under his guidance, Natalie had seen flashes of it first hand. Awestruck at first, Natalie regards the man with utmost respect, and a touch of disdain. The man was shockingly single-minded, caring only slightly that he was training children to fight and die. And if one died, well then that was sad, but could have been prevented. They should have remembered this tip he had mentioned briefly in his third lecture two years ago, so it was no skin off his nose. If becoming that distant was what it meant to be an Auror, Natalie wanted no part of it.

She left the Auror’s office and never looked back.

A year and a half of waiting tables in muggle restaurants flew by as the death toll mounted. Some were acquaintances; some were names familiar from her stint as an Auror; some were the names of babies sent out to the front lines. Natalie lit a candle for all of them, and thanked the stars that her family lived in America. She decided the time was right for her to open the shop she had always wanted – a bakery slash American diner café that would serve chicken and waffles to guests while displaying French pastries and Greek baklava in the glass case. A Southern woman always felt the best about herself when she could comfort someone. And to a Southern woman, that would always mean comfort food. Nat was a Southern woman, and happy to be out of the line of fire.

Or she was, until six months ago. Natalie had been putting the finishing touches on a Fourth of July tart to send to her mom, when she looked up to see an owl floating outside her tiny kitchen window. To the public, Natalie’s flat looked like an ordinary, run-down, over-priced loft – which was why her windows were all either small or barred. (She had spelled the interior so it was much roomier than it should have been.) She opened the window, heart sinking. Who had died this time, or how many? Sad, that on her birthday, Natalie’s instinct told her this was grave news, rather than a birthday card. And unfortunately, her instincts were correct. The letter was not one announcing another murder though. Instead, it was an appeal, signed by both Moody and Dumbledore. In the two and half years her store had been open, it had become immensely popular. Wizards of every affiliation came in, some pretending they did not know her, others acknowledging her with a half smile and a nod. Muggles came in as well, fascinated with her Southern drawl and the delicious American menu. Knowing that, her name had been put forth as ideal to take on the mantle of spy – Natalie, if she agreed, would feed information (anything she overheard or saw in her shop) back to the Order.

Natalie dropped the note, and it landed in the middle of the forgotten tart. Looking back, she realized the irony – how the note taking her freedom lands in the middle of a dessert made for a holiday celebrating freedom. Pepito was the one to point it out to her, after he received her hastily scrawled note. “I thought I was out of this war,” she growled, pacing her narrow kitchen like a tiger. “Remember? I told Alastor I wanted no more of teaching children how is best for them to die on the front lines.” Of course, Moody had taught no such thing, but that was just how Natalie saw things. “Nat.” Pepito’s voice was soft, and she stopped dead, frustrated tears in her eyes. “Nat, if you don’t want to do this, then they can’t make you,” he told her. And he’s right, Dumbledore and Moody, even if they did send seventeen year old kids to their deaths, would never curse somebody to do things against their will. She took that back. They would if it was a life or death situation. “But…” She hesitated, not sure where that thought had been going. “Natalie.” There’s a touch of pleading in his voice this time. “If you do become a spy for the Order, there is a chance that you will help prevent these kids dying.”

She knew she was right to give him the title of best friend.

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