hello, my name is joelle katarine prideaux, just call me jo. i'm twenty years old, born on september 29 in marseilles, france. i'm a student here at beauxgrande, and i'm in my secondary year. i'm a half-blood (half veela) and i actually disagree when it comes to the ministry of magic's current policies on blood. my wand is eleven inches long, with a phoenix tail feather core and oak wood. i'm bi-curious, and people have sometimes confused me for kristen bell, but to each their own, i suppose.
so i'm the person playing this character, and i go by sol. i'm twenty-one years old and i've been rping for about nine. i found this place through ad-hopping. if you want to contact me, use aim/msn/pm (just ask), but keep in mind that i'm on eastern standard time. in addition, i also play no one yet.
The Azkaban crash diet was not one that Amelia would recommend to the general populace. Gideon, lately, always had a touch of that edge to him, something harrowed in his gaze. Still, he looked terrible. Deprived of sleep, undoubtedly bruised and injured under that jumpsuit they had dressed him in. She thought she could pick bloodstains out of the fabric even in the dim light, the thought of which made her jaw clench. Torture never gained reliable answers, as anyone who bothered to think would tell you. A man being tortured was not interested in the truth, he was interested in finding what answer would appease his torturer.
And this at the hands of her own institution. It was sickening. Aside from the dark circles and faint, haunted aura about him, accompanied by the facial hair he appeared to be cultivating, he at least was still Gideon, if the way he bore himself was any indication. Stubborn enough to walk on his own even if he were weak, smirking in the dark. It put her mind at ease, to know that his was, if battered, was in tact. “No need to dress up on my account, I thought that Aurors believed in casual dress. Something about dark wizards finding unorthodox uses for ties, wasn’t it?” The smile she offered was genuine, even if the humor did not quite reach into her eyes.
“If you really do appreciate this view, your office intern is going to be crushed. I think she was planning a spring wedding.” Extending a hand, she offered out the thermos she bore, leaning to explain softly. “Coffee and Pepperup. Not the most appetizing combination but it works wonders. Evidently your guards frown on whiskey, or I might have tried to bring that.” On short notice, Amelia had been capable only of remembering that Gideon was quite fond of coffee, and if she was going to find some way to revive him short of dragging him back to her flat and pushing him bodily into her shower, which she was still half-tempted to do, just so that she could be certain he took care of himself, lacing it was likely the best route.
If it had gotten her through week-long paperwork binges it might take the edge off. “I have heard that the coffee in prison is horrid, I thought I might rescue you.” Taking hold of one of his elbows as she did so, Amelia eyed the men hanging back and sighed. “I’ll process the prisoner myself, and yes, that is an order. Open the door.” Almost as an after thought, she did remember, “Please.” As they shuffled off to budge the heavy iron barrier at the top of the steps, she reached into her briefcase and retrieved a chocolate frog, adding that into Gideon’s hand.
“How did I know you were here, well. For the sake of his dignity let’s say that I charmed it out of a clerk, along with your release papers. The rest of them will be out within the week but it seems to me that if I left you here much longer, your family might have started planning a siege. No one should ever let Fabio handle a catapult.” As casually as though she were escorting him somewhere, Amelia tugged on his arm, silently offering a direction in which he could lean should he require the help staying upright. “Moody resigned while you were out, I suspect in protest. In the matter of men more likely to metamorphose into vegetables than become Death Eaters I think you rank second. What did you do, insult the Minister’s wife?”
THANK GOD I'M PRETTY
I'M BLESSED WITH THE ABILITY TO REND A GROWN MAN TONGUE-TIED WHICH JUST MEANS THAT WHEN IT'S DARK OUTSIDE I HAVE TO RUN AND HIDE CAN'T LOOK BEHIND ME THANK GOD I'M PRETTY EVERY SKILL I EVER HAVE WILL BE IN QUESTION EVERY ILL THAT I MUST SUFFER CLEARLY BROUGHT ON BY MYSELF THOUGH THE COPS WOULD COME FOR SOMEONE ELSE I'M BLESSED I'M TRULY PRIVILEGED TO LOOK THIS GOOD WITHOUT CLOTHES ON AND WHEN A GAGGLE OF FACES APPEARS AROUND ME IT'S LUCKY I HATE TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY I THINK MY EGO WOULD FALL RIGHT THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE FLOOR IF I COULDN'T COUNT ON MEN TO SLAP MY ASS ANY MORE I KNOW MY DESTINY'S SUCH THAT I'M ALL STOCKING AND CURL --------------