Newbie
Group: Slytherin
Posts: 2
Member No.: 19
Joined: 9-July 06
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About the Role-Player
Name: Isabella
Age: 13
Referral: Oho babes, I own it here =D
Nickname: Ella, Izzy
Other: nope
THE BASICS.
Character Name: Gemma Nicole Banks
Nickname: Gemma rarely goes by her nickname Gem. She much rather prefers it when people call her Gemma. No, she won’t get disgruntled if you call her Gem, but, she strongly prefers to be called by her full name, despite the fact that she was named after her scumbag mother.
Due to her amazing amount of cunning, Gemma has received the nickname of “foxy”, which only her dear friends call her.
Age: Gemma is aged 16 years. Unlike most people who hate revealing their age, Gemma tends to answer this question with an arrogant air. For Gemma, age never really concerned her that much. Age, to Gemma, is just a mere number.
Year: Due to the fact that she is aged 16 years, she is obviously a sixth year student at Hogwarts.
House: It is obvious that because of her ways to be cunning, sarcastic, and over-the-edge flirtatious, Gemma was sorted into the Slytherin house, not only because of her seductive looks, but, as stated before, her Slytherin-like attitude.
Blood: Much to Gemma’s dismay, she is a mud-blood, which has earned her foul taunts from the other pureblooded Slytherin boys, and, rarely, a few tacky Slytherin girls.
Parents: As a child, Gemma was neglected of a mother due to the fact that hers was an avid alcoholic and drug addict, the woman from whom she was named. Mostly, she was raised by herself, which didn’t work out to well because she became, for some time, a prostitute. Her father, Leroy Banks, was far to dumb and uneducated to take care of himself, let alone a child.
All in the Details
Physical Appearance: Gemma, to say the least, is an utterly ravishing girl. Her soft, golden blonde curls circle her heart-shaped face, landing with distinguishable elegance on her shoulders. At times, before men, even women, for that matter, grab a complete glance at her face, tend to obsess about her champagne colored hair that always has a certain luster and shimmer to it. Oddly, her hair rarely has split ends or fly-aways, something Gemma took a long time obsessing over before she found out the secret in a hair product that she isn’t quite sure where it came from. Her wide, green eyes illuminate her natural pale complexion, giving her skin a radiant glow and matching both the tones of her hair and add a graceful look to the soft contours of her face. The pupil itself isn’t quite large, but the brim extends quite a distance from her nose and the whiteness extends upwards about one inch. Her lips, naturally rosy and plump open in the center, involuntarily, so that her some of her teeth, which were permanently whitened, show.
Her body is very tall and slender with a few occasional curves. Her hands are long and dainty, as are her arms, which end at the center of her thigh. Her back curves in, making her chest jut out a bit more than usual, something that Gemma is glad to have. Her complexion is best described as ivory, which is a crisp pale color that gives her eyes more flair than they already have. Her body type is an X, meaning that her hips curve in then slightly out around the hip area. The smooth contours of her face give her a fine, sturdy jaw line that softens as it goes into a cute little chin.
Her favorite features, besides her large breasts, are her hands and arms, being that they are thin and elegant. She often wears bracelets and bangles so that they will grab people’s attention, giving them an excuse to look at her arms. Since she was gifted with such huge breasts, she often wears revealing clothing that show her ample cleavage. Also, to make her hand look more beautiful, she gets them manicured every month or so, usually French manicured or a simple light pink, similar to that of a ballet slipper.
Her hair is layered, though it is barely noticeable due to her curls, unless, of course, she straightens it, which she hardly ever does being that she doesn’t have time. The first layer ends at her chin, with five other layers cascading on a slope after it so that it ends at her shoulders. In the back it is straight, no layers, no anything. Seldom, she will comb a side bang though she prefers bangs when they are straightly aligned along the forehead and not combed to the side.
Personality: Bitch. Whore. Conniving. Sarcastic. Dramatic. Cunning. Hard-to-handle. Perfectionist.
Bitchy. Gemma, as many have called her before, is a hot bitch. Most people, however, think that their calling her a bitch is an insult to Gemma, but, in truth, it isn’t. Gemma is well aware of the fact that she is moody and can act rather spicy, but doesn’t really care. In fact, she rather likes the fact that she has this ability to ward off people she doesn’t like by putting on this attitude. She feels that her bitchiness is what makes her her, a dignified Slytherin. The blonde isn’t ashamed to hide this side of her because she, as she calls herself, is a certified bitch.
Whore. Ever since she was fifteen years of age, Gemma has always found a liking (with soon grew to a great obsession) towards the opposite sex. She enjoys making out and flaunting what she has to them, teasing them by acting like she will die without the presence of them in her life, and finishes them off by either giving them what they want or, simply, setting them off with so much as a kiss. Many people, especially in America has used this word, like bitch, as an insult. Eh, Gemma doesn’t care. She is well aware of this devilish side and doesn’t plan on changing it. Of course, there is a limit as to how far Gemma will go with a guy, but, trust me, she has gone past it a few times.
Conniving. In relations, and sometimes friendships in which she uses people, Gemma finds herself conniving, or fooling, the person in question to get what she wants. For example, if her and her date are to go out for ice cream, occasionally, the blonde will put on an innocent act and claim to not have any money. She finds this characteristic to be strong because most, even if, for fun, she purposely acts badly to test the person in question, most fail to see beyond the faked innocence. As a child, she never quite got what she wanted due to the fact that her father was a poor bastard. Now, she takes the fact of having people wait on her hand and foot for granted and has a lot of fun doing it.
Sarcastic. Gemma grew up in New York and spent most of her days on the streets with her preppy friends, picking up on the lingo of others. She is not one to talk in the slang, but, for her benefit, she did pick up on rather surly, sassy comments that only increased her already-high level of sarcasm. What she mostly likes about her sarcasm is that if someone is insulting her, and she spurs out a nasty comment, it will stump him or her for a while, causing their disses to be meaningless to Gemma.
Dramatic. There isn’t a moment in Gemma’s life when she doesn’t want the attention to be on her, unless, of course, the attention is coming from her father. Due to this trait, she tends to emphasize certain issues to the extent that they become known throughout the school. The blonde absolutely adores being in the spotlight and, basically, will do anything to be in that spotlight. Drama, in the rare cases in which she wants to be left alone, tends to stalk her. Her life, in relevant, is basically a whirlpool filled with different cases of drama. Her dramatic side tends to get odd because, one, she does love the spotlight, but, she is beginning to get tired from drama chasing her around all the time.
Cunning. Gentle like a dove, cunning like a fox. Gemma’s personality consists of this amazing ingenuity and deceptiveness, tainted with this delicate pleasure that adds to her mystery and makes it very hard for people to unravel the true Gemma. This amazing ability to trick and deceive people has left some boys, from former relationships, in continuous spirals of awe, rejection, and inquisition. In fact, this trait is what gave her her nickname of “foxy.” She’s not afraid to use this against people - after all, a little trickery never hurt any one.
Hard-to-handle. Due to the many twists in her attitude, people have found that she is too hard to handle. Whenever they think that they have managed to find the true Gemma, she always ends up doing something that alters their decision completely. Sometimes, due to her bad attitude, they would just like to be rid of her. The same goes for her when she acts…decently. Gemma is, as her friend Sandra once said, “too damn much.”
Perfectionist. The main reason that Gemma likes everything to be perfect is because her life hasn’t had one trace of perfection in it. What she does, especially with boys, doesn’t worry her as much as the little details do. For example, if her nails aren’t done right, she will have the manicurist do them over and over until she is satisfied with the result.
Style: Gemma can wear anything and look fabulous wearing it. She tries her best to keep up with the latest fashion trends though it is difficult because she is usually wearing her school uniform, which, by the way, she can’t stand. She absolutely detests panty hose and refuses to wear them. If she needs to wear them, she will wear thigh-highs, which go up to her thigh and stop. Panty hose make her feel like a duck, due to the attachment in the center at the top of her legs. The blonde is not necessarily one who enjoys wearing athletic gear, but, unlike her friends, will wear this type of clothing if the occasion calls for it. A favorite clothing piece of hers, despite the fact that it is athletic, is a tennis suit, complete with the wrist bands, sweatbands, polo top, short white skirt, sneakers, and cutely decorated ankle-socks.
Besides her uniform, Gemma adores wearing clothes that flaunt what she has.
Likes/Dislikes:
[ l I k es }
+ BOYS, BOYS, BOYS
+ Shopping
+ Skittles
+ New York City
+ Tennis
+ Making out
+ Butterflies
+ Cats
+ Slytherins
+ Preppy kids like her
+ Ballet
+ Short skirts and mid-drifts
+ Knit blankets
+ Piano Concertos
+ Grease 1 and Grease 2
+ Male soccer teams
+ Potato chips
+ Old movies
{ d I s l I k e s}
+ Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws
+ Girls who flirt with her current fling
+ Horror movies
+ Annoying people
+ People who think they can beat her in a diss contest
+ Her father
+ People like her father
+ Cauldrons
+ Pumpkin pasties
+ Wimpy guys
+ Liars
+ People who make fun of her blood type
+ Loose clothing
+ Football
+ Arrogant men
+ Eggs
+ Moths
History: Gemma was born in Manhattan, New York on August 4, the only day she ever saw her mother, and, if you ask Gemma now, she is quite glad that she never knew her mother. Her father, being that he was too busy preoccupying himself with more “important” matters, such as gambling and going to illegal clubs, didn’t bother to show up at the hospital that day. Though Gemma doesn’t openly admit this, the negligence of her mother and incompetence of her father left quite a large impact on her life that Gemma, as well as the many psychiatrists she saw, believe caused her to become the way she is today.
Gemma, after three days, went home with her father. Her mother decided that she didn’t want the child, being that it would cut into her schedule. Not to mention, her mother was deathly afraid of taking full responsibility of a child especially since she could barely afford to feed herself. Her father’s apartment was disgusting. Maggots inhabited the sink, empty, oily pizza boxes littered the ground, all his clothes were moth-eaten, as was the couch, and a foul stench of body odor and beer hung in the air. Her room was located in the far back of the apartment, the only clean room of the house in which Gemma strictly prohibited her father to enter.
She attended the local public school and kept quiet most of the time until junior high, when she learned about women and their disgraceful ways. Her friends would gather around a lunch table and discuss their “weekend ramblings.” This interested Gemma much and made a great impact on her life. Of course, at that age, she was far too shy to ask what half the things they talked about where. It was at this age that she learned the true reason as to why her mother had left her. Basically, her mother was a stripper at an old strip club who, one day, due to her weight, was fired and had no where to live besides in a box on the street corner. This, for quite some time, scared Gemma. She wouldn’t allow herself go to parties or leave the apartment for she was afraid that what had happened to her mother would happen to her.
For a few years, she remained in this quiet existence, afraid of the outside world (even though she got quite a good look at it from her father). Her father sensed this fright and decided, with his abnormally low level of intelligence, to molest her in the middle of the night. Once, Gemma tried to call the police on her father, but, before she could dial the number, he tore the phone from her wall and beat her up. He forgot about molesting her and, instead of doing that, he abused her, which is why she has a few bruises on her legs that, to this day, still hurt a bit.
At age 14, Gemma called a child help line and reported the foul activities of her father. A week later, she was taken away and placed in an orphanage in England. The orphanage, like so many others, was pretty large with a decent amount of land. The inside was gloomy and cold, which, in the summer, was okay, but, in the winter, was completely unbearable. At this orphanage, being that she was the outgoing, euphemistic, talkative child, made quite a large amount of friends, who, like her, at the age of fifteen, were sent off to live on their own.
In the fall of her fifteenth year, the orphanage received a letter from this magical school addressed to Gemma Nicole Banks. The heads of the orphanage, fearful that this was some kind of trick, opened the letter and read through its contents. It simply said:
Dear Miss. Gemma Banks,
We here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have watched you for quite some time, growing more and more concerned each passing day as you lived through rather tough conditions. We are well aware of the fact that you are fifteen years of age and that the normal student starts at Hogwarts School at age eleven. However, due to circumstances, we feel it be altogether proper that you receive an invite to join us this coming September. Do not be worried and, please, do not believe this to be some trick. Hogwarts has been a school educating young wizards and witches for centuries located…ah, we will never tell. Inside this envelope you will find a list of supplies, rules, and a ticket to Platform 9 ľ, the Hogwarts Express. Have a good and safe rest of the summer. We all look forward to seeing you here in the fall.
Albus Dumbledore Minerva McGonagall
After many weeks of endless debate, the heads of the orphanage decided to send Gemma off to this school, assuming that it would be the wisest decision in this rare case. At first, Gemma was a bit apprehensive. After all, what would a muggle, as they called it, like her be doing in an environment of magical happenings? Would she fit in, or would she constantly be tormented because of her roots? Still, she could not argue with the heads and quietly agreed to attend this school.
Her first year at Hogwarts was quite blissful. She made an easy amount of friends and received the reputation of being “the foxy fox,” or, as the boys called her, “sexy American.” Unfortunately, she did become a bit more obsessed with boys and began to do things that she shouldn’t do every once in a while. Try she does to forget about her harder times as a child. Granted, she knows that the past cannot be erased, but, with each day, she takes small segments of the past to help make her a future.
[color= #fef7bc]{ h o b b I e s}
+ Ballet
+ Singing
+ Writing poetry
+ Playing Tennis
+ Swimming
Oh, There are Always Options (Not Manditory)
Broom: Gemma owns a bluebottle broom that she rarely uses due to the fact that she can’t stand flying. She only uses this broom in case of an emergency or if she ever has to fly around with her friends by request.
Wand: Gemma owns a 10.5 butternut broom composed of three phoenixes tears and 6 strands of veela hair. Her wand is lengthy due to the fact that she has somewhat big hands.
Pet: Gemma owns a munchkin cat named Munchkin, due to lack of creativity and failure to take time out and think of a name for the creature. She also owns a large, white Persian cat named Rusé.
NECESSITY
The brunette had always found it funny how a habit could take complete and utter control over a body, causing it to do even the most stupid and low tasks that the mind could never quite coax into clear understanding. For example, how did the body manage to go without food, or, at least, to a certain extent until it completely broke down and disabled some of the normal functions that were a necessity to survive in this harsh world? Or, perhaps, how did one go without physical contact with other human being without growing lonely and depressed, a symptom that seemed to grab all by the throat, clot the mind with morose thoughts, and finally, shutting it down, forever, in a solitary state of endless sleep?The thought of it alone rather depressed the girl further. Here she lay, lonely, miserable, her stomach growling like an angry lion, and, for maybe the first time in her arrogant life, she didn’t feel beautiful. If only there was a male around, at least, a good looking Slytherin male, then, perhaps, she could entertain herself and rid her mind of this depression, or at least for a little bit. Why was this happening to her? Why, all of a sudden, did she feel so useless, and why, goddamn it, why, did she fucking need a goddamned alcoholic beverage? She had never been one to drink, but something, something in her stomach, in her blood even just seemed to be grabbing at her throat as if forcing her to get drunk and sip, sip, sip away all this misery! “FUCKING SHIT!” Reagan screamed as she jolted upwards, her heads placed on both side of her head. The world was spinning, and she was falling, fast. The brunette gritted her teeth and clutched angrily at clomps of her head, tempted to pull it out, tempted to just rip it out and throw it into the fireplace whose constantly flickering flames were starting to piss her off. Nausea, heartburnache, indigestion, no, upset stomach…forget her stomach, she was just upset.“No,” she whispered to herself as sweat broke out along her brow. “I’m not Pepto-Bismol,” she added as she slicked her hair back with her left hand. “It’s your mind, chick, cool down. Cool the hell down.” Her body began to quaver, her stomach continued to turn unpleasantly, and her mind, oho her mind, began to race like a car on an empty freeway. Once more, she clutched at her ever growling stomach, prepared to empty it with a simple trick such as sticking her finger down her throat…“Hey Reagan.”Hearing these words, she turned her face slightly, her finger still placed in her mouth. “Ohi,” she said to Melinda, her words jumbled together due to that finger in her mouth. A soft smile curled the edges of her lips as she removed the wet finger from her mouth, placing it to the side and shaking it to remove the disgusting saliva that covered the majority of it. So what, she was bulimic. Big deal. “What it do?”A soft giggle rolled of her tongue as Melinda said this. If there was anything that Reagan liked about this girl, it was her freedom of expression. She talked like a muggle and didn’t care if others insulted her for it. She was an individual, never one to follow the crowd, but nonetheless a crowd pleaser. Well, good. With Melinda here, Reagan had something to distract her mind from its thoughts of misery, bulimia, and Pepto-Bismal.
Rain, rain, rain, cold rain pelted on a slender brunette’s forehead, whose face was turned upward so that it faced the morose, gray sky. Rain, rain, rain, its soft pitter-pat sent vibes of relaxation throughout her body as she exhaled slowly and breathed in the cool scent of wet earth. Rain, rain, rain, its coldness, despite the feeling of relaxation it provided, caused goosebumps of seduction to form along her ivory-colored skin as Reagan Zabini sat there, oblivious to her soaked clothing, dreaming about nature’s subtle miracles.
So, perhaps, she had completely lost it. Most people, she well imagined, would call her crazy for sitting there in a hard spring rain, not at all getting vexed by the fact that it frizzed up her hair and drenched her clothes. No, no, her sanity was still there, as was her vanity, something that Reagan always held close to her heart. Still, she was proud, proud that she had managed to go a full week without sticking her elegant finger down her throat so that it caused her to vomit. It felt good, she had to admit, this sense of divine satisfaction, this feeling that you accomplished something that seemed so frivolous and far away, like that horizon that tormented each soul with its length and beauty.
The stories her father would tell of that horizon. Funny, it was, how she always managed to think of it, like that time, oh so recently, with her two siblings. It wasn’t long before they interrupted her that she replayed the sound of his voice telling that story over and over again. How was he now, she imagined. Good man, he was probably home, warm and cozy, in that big mansion, sipping tea, laughing and sharing joy with her beautiful mother. “God will bless him,” she whispered silently as a tear rolled down the side of her face and onto the bleacher.
She missed home; she missed it terribly. Christmas, last year, was a perfect opportunity to go home and see him again. But no, she had to turn it down all because her two siblings were going to be there. Why, she wondered, did she hate them so much, or at least claim to? Her father, she was sure, would have loved to see them form a unique bond of togetherness, but still, despite his efforts to try, Reagan was still so stubborn. What would he do? Would he be hexed and threaten them with sonorous words, or, would he say it didn’t matter, though deep down inside, it stabbed at him like a sharp knife?
‘Forget it,’ she told herself, not wanting to bring back memories of the past. The past, that’s exactly what it was, and it should stay there. They were in the present, yearning to make the future, not relive the past. It would become history that would, perhaps, help them to live a better future. ‘Learn from your mistakes, Reagan. Who knows, there could only be eight seconds left in your time.’
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Banks, Gemma, {love me t e n d e r}
