Post by heather on Jun 25, 2006 19:35:47 GMT -5
Name: Heather Marionne Renaldi
Age: 17
Birthday: March 23rd
Bloodline: Half-blood; Russian Witch and Russian Muggle
Physical Description: Heather has mismatched eyes, one is a blue-green shade, while the other is hazel-green—though her eyes are known to flash an irritated emerald close to Harry’s when she’s angry or frustrated and a hazel-ish color when she’s unusually upset or depressed. Her hair is her pride, being of a deep raven coloring; thin and feathery. Heather has naturally wavy-ish hair, though she finds the time to flat iron her hair, proceeding to copy a 70’s do, or simply leaving it straight. She always speaks of what conditioner and shampoo she uses, feeling it her duty to help others get the same “amazingly full-bodied and shining” locks she has. Heather holds a tannish hued skin, not the tanned spray-on tan color, but more of an exotic-y tanned skin. Thinly plucked eyebrows are placed above her bright eyes, and are the same color as her hair, almost always arched curiously or in a slightly pretty manner. Her lips are finely sculpted and relatively small, and she finds it her duty to always paint them a shade of red, bright or dark; something Marilyn Monroe would surely have been proud of. She’s relatively petite, reaching an amazingly tall—hint the sarcasm—5’3”, and often finds herself tilting her head up faintly to look people in the eye. She’s equally petite, being amazingly skinny at a whopping 95 pounds, with nails that sit at an amazing inch.
Personality: Ditzy. Heather Marionne Renaldi is by all means ditzy. As some might say, "Heather, you're the blondest dark brunette I will ever meet", and she'll simply smile and tilt her head to the side ever so slightly. She's far from the smartest girl in school, and she's faintly far from the most popular. At first meeting, Heather comes off a bit irritating-- and you have to dig deeper to realize what a good person she can be... once you get over her incredibly ditzy and faintly conceited attitude.
Likes: Pink, pretty things, unicorns, boys, talking, make-up, clothes, “pretty” people, rappers/rap music, dancing, people who are daring
Dislikes: Violence, blood, “ugly” people, most classes, obnoxious boys (Amusing, seeing how obnoxious she is)
History: Miss Renadli was born in Russia, living there for the first ten years of her life. Heather's biological father divorced her mother when she was younger, and she was grief stricken. She was extremely close to her father, and loved him more than any of her other family members—always attending outings with him, such as bowling alleys, picnics, movies, etc. When her mother remarried only a few months after the divorce, Heather was enraged, swearing on her life she would never come to like the man as her own father. Her dislike of the wizard only increased when he convinced Mrs. Renaldi to move to England, leaving behind Heather's friends and bonds in Russia... and her father. She soon developed a strong hate for both her mother and her step-father, and jumped at any oppurtunity to visit her father.
At Hogwarts, the excited eleven year old had, in her trademark perky fashion, skipped off to her table among clapping. As soon as she sat down, she’d scanned the Great Hall, picking out people she’d remind herself to talk to throughout the next few weeks and solidify friendships with, the people she’d remind herself to avoid because they looked plain scary, and the boys she’d remind herself to eyeball because, quite frankly, they were hot. As soon as she’s stopped her scouting, she’d turned to the people closest her and started talking.
She hasn’t shut up since.
Family and Pets: Father; Dimitri Renaldi
Mother; Anastasia Renaldi-Azar
Step-Father; James Azar
- - White kitten named Jackie.
Roleplaying Sample: /Bring, Bring, Bring/
The offending alarm clock was abruptly smacked in irritation by a petite pale hand, a groan emmitting from within a cocoon of maroon hued sheets. Was it that late already?
/Bring, Bring, Bring/
Again, the petite hand that had withdrawn into the cocoon once more, darted out like a snake about to set its jaws around a mouse, smacking the blazing green alarm clock until it crashed to the floor with a loud thud and an offended shriek, and then, silence.
Just how she liked it.
Well, sometimes at least.
A head popped out of the cocoon slowly, hands reaching up to knuckle the sleep from mismatched eyes-- one green and one blue. Hair of deep brown hue fell to brush her should blades as the petite sixteen year old straightened and hopped out of bed, her warm feet colliding against the cold hard wood flooring. With a stifled yawn, the sixteen year old Gryffindor who was at home for the holidays walked towards the vanity, glancing at her reflection in the large mirror.
She wasn't an especially vain person, even though she was relatively attractive. Walking towards her set of drawers with a vainly stifled yawn and a quick stretch of her long arms, Miss Renaldi tossed a pair of ripped at the knee faded jeans onto her bed-- the covers still rolled into a ball. Pulling a black tank top over her head-- she was one who dressed however she felt regardless of weather-- and slipping into her jeans, she tossed her nightgown onto the bed-- not one who was especially gifted in the art of organization.
Appyling a coat of mascara and swiping lip gloss over her lips, she glanced at another one of the clocks posted around her room.
With a roll of her blue eyes, she shrugged her thin shoulders, swiping a brush through her hair before examining herself in the mirror. Deciding she looked alright, she slipped her tiny feet into the black flip-flops next to her vanity, Miss Heather Marionne Renaldi descended the stairs to the Renaldi family home before glancing around.
Upon entering the relatively abandoned living room, Heather gazed about slowly. Maybe, if she was lucky, her parents were out. Then she'd be able to sneak out to that movie her Mother had forbidden her to see. Silly little rulebreaker.
With a vainly stifled yawn, Heather plopped down in one of the nicely upholstered armchairs, uncanningly mismatched eyes fiery and witty. And now she sat, flipping through an old copy of 'Vogue' magazine, releasing a sigh every now and then.
Age: 17
Birthday: March 23rd
Bloodline: Half-blood; Russian Witch and Russian Muggle
Physical Description: Heather has mismatched eyes, one is a blue-green shade, while the other is hazel-green—though her eyes are known to flash an irritated emerald close to Harry’s when she’s angry or frustrated and a hazel-ish color when she’s unusually upset or depressed. Her hair is her pride, being of a deep raven coloring; thin and feathery. Heather has naturally wavy-ish hair, though she finds the time to flat iron her hair, proceeding to copy a 70’s do, or simply leaving it straight. She always speaks of what conditioner and shampoo she uses, feeling it her duty to help others get the same “amazingly full-bodied and shining” locks she has. Heather holds a tannish hued skin, not the tanned spray-on tan color, but more of an exotic-y tanned skin. Thinly plucked eyebrows are placed above her bright eyes, and are the same color as her hair, almost always arched curiously or in a slightly pretty manner. Her lips are finely sculpted and relatively small, and she finds it her duty to always paint them a shade of red, bright or dark; something Marilyn Monroe would surely have been proud of. She’s relatively petite, reaching an amazingly tall—hint the sarcasm—5’3”, and often finds herself tilting her head up faintly to look people in the eye. She’s equally petite, being amazingly skinny at a whopping 95 pounds, with nails that sit at an amazing inch.
Personality: Ditzy. Heather Marionne Renaldi is by all means ditzy. As some might say, "Heather, you're the blondest dark brunette I will ever meet", and she'll simply smile and tilt her head to the side ever so slightly. She's far from the smartest girl in school, and she's faintly far from the most popular. At first meeting, Heather comes off a bit irritating-- and you have to dig deeper to realize what a good person she can be... once you get over her incredibly ditzy and faintly conceited attitude.
Likes: Pink, pretty things, unicorns, boys, talking, make-up, clothes, “pretty” people, rappers/rap music, dancing, people who are daring
Dislikes: Violence, blood, “ugly” people, most classes, obnoxious boys (Amusing, seeing how obnoxious she is)
History: Miss Renadli was born in Russia, living there for the first ten years of her life. Heather's biological father divorced her mother when she was younger, and she was grief stricken. She was extremely close to her father, and loved him more than any of her other family members—always attending outings with him, such as bowling alleys, picnics, movies, etc. When her mother remarried only a few months after the divorce, Heather was enraged, swearing on her life she would never come to like the man as her own father. Her dislike of the wizard only increased when he convinced Mrs. Renaldi to move to England, leaving behind Heather's friends and bonds in Russia... and her father. She soon developed a strong hate for both her mother and her step-father, and jumped at any oppurtunity to visit her father.
At Hogwarts, the excited eleven year old had, in her trademark perky fashion, skipped off to her table among clapping. As soon as she sat down, she’d scanned the Great Hall, picking out people she’d remind herself to talk to throughout the next few weeks and solidify friendships with, the people she’d remind herself to avoid because they looked plain scary, and the boys she’d remind herself to eyeball because, quite frankly, they were hot. As soon as she’s stopped her scouting, she’d turned to the people closest her and started talking.
She hasn’t shut up since.
Family and Pets: Father; Dimitri Renaldi
Mother; Anastasia Renaldi-Azar
Step-Father; James Azar
- - White kitten named Jackie.
Roleplaying Sample: /Bring, Bring, Bring/
The offending alarm clock was abruptly smacked in irritation by a petite pale hand, a groan emmitting from within a cocoon of maroon hued sheets. Was it that late already?
/Bring, Bring, Bring/
Again, the petite hand that had withdrawn into the cocoon once more, darted out like a snake about to set its jaws around a mouse, smacking the blazing green alarm clock until it crashed to the floor with a loud thud and an offended shriek, and then, silence.
Just how she liked it.
Well, sometimes at least.
A head popped out of the cocoon slowly, hands reaching up to knuckle the sleep from mismatched eyes-- one green and one blue. Hair of deep brown hue fell to brush her should blades as the petite sixteen year old straightened and hopped out of bed, her warm feet colliding against the cold hard wood flooring. With a stifled yawn, the sixteen year old Gryffindor who was at home for the holidays walked towards the vanity, glancing at her reflection in the large mirror.
She wasn't an especially vain person, even though she was relatively attractive. Walking towards her set of drawers with a vainly stifled yawn and a quick stretch of her long arms, Miss Renaldi tossed a pair of ripped at the knee faded jeans onto her bed-- the covers still rolled into a ball. Pulling a black tank top over her head-- she was one who dressed however she felt regardless of weather-- and slipping into her jeans, she tossed her nightgown onto the bed-- not one who was especially gifted in the art of organization.
Appyling a coat of mascara and swiping lip gloss over her lips, she glanced at another one of the clocks posted around her room.
With a roll of her blue eyes, she shrugged her thin shoulders, swiping a brush through her hair before examining herself in the mirror. Deciding she looked alright, she slipped her tiny feet into the black flip-flops next to her vanity, Miss Heather Marionne Renaldi descended the stairs to the Renaldi family home before glancing around.
Upon entering the relatively abandoned living room, Heather gazed about slowly. Maybe, if she was lucky, her parents were out. Then she'd be able to sneak out to that movie her Mother had forbidden her to see. Silly little rulebreaker.
With a vainly stifled yawn, Heather plopped down in one of the nicely upholstered armchairs, uncanningly mismatched eyes fiery and witty. And now she sat, flipping through an old copy of 'Vogue' magazine, releasing a sigh every now and then.
