Title: ZABINI, esmée
esmée zabini - September 1, 2007 06:17 PM (GMT)
INTRODUCING...
[ esmée zabini ]
[ esmée zabini ]
[who's pulling all the strings?
name: Riley
age: 16
contact: PM me for it
experience: A couple of years now.
how'd you find us? An advertisement on STP
[ w h o are you?
full name: "Esmée Veronique Zabini. My first name is pronounced Ez-may, by the way."
explain the names: "Well, obviously, my first and middle names are both French. Esmée means loved, or esteemed one, probably refering to that oh-so 'wonderful' fact that I am 1/4 Veela. Veronique means bringing victory. I don't know what victory I am supposed to bring, but whatever."
nickname: "Esmie, which sounds incredibly like my name, so I don't mind it. Just, only my friends can call me that."
age/year: "I am sixteen, and a sixth year."
house: "Lovely Slytherin, of course."
any titles?: "None yet, but I plan on being prefect this year!"
[ show some skin!
eye color:Blue-green, a trait she obviously inherited from her blonde-haired, blue-eyed part Veela mother (Of course she has her dark-eyed/haired/skinned father's everything else!). Varies between blue, green and gray depending on the lighting, but they mostly appear an eerie blue-green.
hair color: Neat and prim is the key for Esmee's hair. More than often, you'll find her shoulder-length, light brown curls slicked back into a bun or ponytail. Even when she straightens her hair with a few quick charms (or, confessingly, she likes using muggle straightners too), she'll still sweep her dark locks into a ponytail. When the girl actually decides to wear her hair out, one would find luscious, mid- auburn (or light brown, as she rather say) colored curls that form ringlets and waves around her heart-shaped face. Due to the curl-factor of her natural hair, when straightened, her hair will reach to just under her breasts, a little too long for her tastes, but hey, what can she do, except look good for her betrothed?
skin tone: The envy of half of the female student body, her skin tone is a rich, light yellow-brown, somewhat typical to most light-skinned black people such as herself. So, she finds her skin color to be quite ordinary in fact, telling people it's just a "light black" skin color, while most seem to argue over it's smoothness and elasticity. Like other skin tones, it darkens in the warmer months and lightens up in the colder months, so at the extreme in the warm months, it's bronze, sometimes caramel, light-medium brown shade, while at the extreme in the cold months, it can become a quite pale, olive-beige shade, something her cousin once called "high yellow". All in all, Esmee just thinks it's skin.
celebrity portrayal: Denise Vasi
[ let me pick your brain!
likes:
• Reading. I'm sure we've all noticed that
• Getting the last say in something.
• Getting approval or praise from anyone; whether it'd be mumsy, daddy, a professor, her friends or enemies.
• Quidditch. Oh, if only she could play on the team.
• Marriage. Kind of sort of. She's willing to take on her marriage seriously, but the more she thinks about it, the less she is willing.
• Flamingos. It isn't something she'd actively advertise to people, but her family has certainly noticed it over the years
• Ginger. By far her favorite spice. Gingersnaps, gingerbread, ginger spice cake; if it has it in it, she'll eat it.
• History.
• Historical novels.
• Muggles. Interesting little buggers, aren't they?
• Reading random facts and tidbits.
• Those 1700's styled clothing. Very cute, especially for masquarade balls.
dislikes:
• Her family, sometimes.
• The whole wizarding blood hierarchy
• Using her 'veela charm' to obtain things. Shit, she gets things with her intelligence.
• When people point out the obvious.
• Some extremist Morte Incarnate members. But hey, her brother and betrothed are both members.
• Being a virgin. Sometimes. But, that's secret, shush.
• Being labeled as haughty or pompous.
• People who insult the sacred rite of marriage.
• Cocky people, in general.
• Other girls who fawn all over her brother.
• Girls who think that getting close to her means getting close to her brother. Yeah, keep dreaming.
strengths:
• Charming
• Intelligent
• Clever, however sometimes it comes to a point where it's actually manipulative.
• Reserved and cool, especially in the face of possible danger.
• Respects herself and others enough to not spread her favors around, unlike some other Zabini children. Cough cough.
weaknesses:
• A general ice queen to most
• Plays the hot and cold act with some, acting nice to them once, then lashing out on them or ignoring them the next time.
• Sometimes is haughty, especially when it comes to intelligence.
• A little OCD when it comes to certain things.
• At her worst, arrogant and condescending.
• Sarcastic.
• Always aloof
• She often puts herself in 'I-am-holier-than-thou' positions.
• Cold to some she deems inferior
• Lashes out with venomous words sometimes, however rarely.
• Can't particularly say 'no' to a handsome or adorable face.
quirks:
• Likes reading raunchy historical novels.
• Has an odd obsession with Flamingos and Ginger, but that's something she won't go around declaring.
• Chew on her fingernails when she is bored, anxious or nervous.
• Says she hates the smell of sex, but secretly, she loves it.
love potion: Jasmine, the smell of creme and exotic colognes.
patronus: A jaguar; clever and silent as she is on the outside, however, vicious and powerful on the inside.
boggart: Above all, Esmee fears the life that will come ahead of her. She has already taken into consideration that she is and will marry the eldest Malfoy. She has no say in it in the end, so she is valiantly accepting her fate. Her husband-to-be, Scorpius, is a good man, she supposes. He's best friends with her brother, and their father's were great friends also, so they are quite close. However, she fears, is that upon marrying Scorpius that he will neglect her, hurt her or drag her into the Morte Incarnate, something she wishes not to do. And if she has his children, she'll be forced to watch them grow up to be Morte Incarnate members also. Oh, the horror.
dementor: As odd as it was when she thinks about it, this memory had to be her most frightening. Worst memories were always frightening, not so much embarassing as this one, but frightening.
She had woken up that morning, the cool mid-June breeze floating through her open window, lightly blowing her floaty curtains. It was early, maybe around eight thirty AM or so. If they were going to Diagon Alley that day, she knew everyone would be up within an hour or so. She barely slept last night, with some scratching across her floor boards waking her up often. She was quite a heavy sleeper, even if she supposed it was just the mice that had decided to come from the dungeons, looking for food. Father would have them killed with a quick anti-pesk potion sprayed by the house elves. So, anyways, the youngest Zabini, only thirteen at the time, had taken the liberty to wake herself up and continue on to her lavishly decorated bathroom. Well, not really. A scream sent Blaise Zabini, his tall blonde wife and their son running down to the youngest girl's room, wearing nothing but their bare esscentials and night clothes. Blaise Zabini was poised armed and ready with his wand, ready to attack whomever was foolish enough to attack the cherished, pretty daughter of one of the Wizarding world's best.
To his astonishment, when he slammed the door open with a quick unlocking charm, he found his daughter wailing on top of her bed, blood soaking her nightgown. He panicked for a moment, wondering if some assailent had been sick enough to come in and...violate his daughter. "Esmee!" He exclaimed as did his wife, the both of them rushing to her side.
"Maman! I'm bleeding!" Squealed when her mother rushed towards her side, examining her more closely with her eye.
"Chéri! Did somone...'urt ch-you!?" Gabrielle exclaimed, before sighing a breath of relief. "Chéri, calm down." She turned to her husband and her son, who was loftly hanging by the door, waving a hand in dismissal. "Vous, les hommes." She began in her native tongue, "Out." And with that, the curious men left the room, closing the door behind them.
Gabrielle turned towards her daughter. "Mon chéri, do not cry. It iz nothing." Her mother began softly as she whiped the salty tears from her daughter's eyes. Nothing? How could her mother say that! She woken up and there was blood all over her lower body, sheets and...private areas. What the hell was there not to panic about?
"B-but, maman. I am bleeding! And in unmentionable areas!" She whined as she softly pushed her tears out of her bright eyes. Her mother's smiled widened, as if she knew a dirty little secret Esmee did not know.
"Oh, ché!" She heard her mother exclaim in that sexy gurgle of a laugh, "It iz only Tatie Règles. She 'as come to vizit 'ou. It 'appens once a month, where 'ou bleed through 'our..privates. It 'appens to me too, honey-child. It meanz 'ou are un sa bourgeoise ou un ma . A little woman."
And of all the things to panic about...
personality:
When one first glances at Esmee, they may instantaneously think of a considerate, smilling girl, who --by the looks of a book that is seemingly always in her hand-- is obviously intelligent as she is pretty. However, she saves that for professors and adults. How intelligent of her, right? Damn straight. Many wonder and wonder how such a pretty girl with a knack for just about anything wound up in such a cut throat house, filled with the sons and daughters of ex-death eaters, vampires and werewolves. However, this Zabini girl will never tell you, more or less let you get by without a sly insult said with her reserved, calm voice.
Esmee is not the girl you would think who would possess any form of tact. No, this girl is not always upfront, but in a way is blunt and honest. She tells it like it is, plain and simple. If she likes you (although, she never likes anyone a whole lot, so count that as a blessing), she'll tell you. If she doesn't, well then, that's tough cookies for you. Because, if you cross on her bad side, she'll tell you that you are the skankiest, most homely imp to ever tread her nearby ground--of course, in that light and calm, sometimes sugary sweet, yet clearly condescending tone-- then tuck her nose back into her novel, thinking nothing of it. It could be said that she doesn't care about other people's emotions, but the truth is she cares too much. She's often been seen as a cold ice queen who has no feelings, while the truth is, she craves to feel again, she wants something everyone has, and it's friendship. Alas, the brunette is too haughty to even admit that.
You will often find Esmee quietly observing those around her, and it would be easy to be drawn into her demeanour as you ask yourself, “What goes on in that mind of hers?” Mostly, she is sizing people up. She can’t help it really, as it is something she has always done, and always been taught to do. Esmee will not argue a point unless she knows that she is right, and she has this way of twisting things around so that she wins, and people don’t even seem to realize that she has done it.
Though she may not go out of her way to pick on people, she won't go out of her way to befriend them either. People have often tried to move into her inner circle and Esmee, sarcastically and quite bluntly, has been known to tell her friends that she doesn't have time for others in her life. She has all the books and knowledge she would need right in the library, all the power, pure bloodlines and money right in her family and home life, and unless she can see that you possess qualities she deems to be useful, why would she want to have anything to do with you?
When highly pissed off, Esmee can be an outright bitch, snapping on whomever, even if they are chewing their gum loudly, but unconciously. She more than often doesn't get away with her outbursts, however, sometimes she gets away with hurling whatever insults she deems fit at the person in question, often walking away with a smug smile on her brown lips and a dropped jaw on the other person.
Her weakness is that she needs to understand a persons motivation, no matter how ridiculous it might be. Though she may have a knack for summing people up in a short space of time, she's more likely to try and get to know somebody that she can't quite put her finger on. The interaction is likely to be fleeting, Esmee moving on once she has what she wants but the interaction itself has always been something even some of her friends have found puzzling.
All in all, many of her traits have been more or less compared to and deemed to be that of Slytherins, however, she shows a knack for being clever over manipulative (although she is not far off from it) and is rather intelligent, so she vaguely wonders why she was not placed in Ravenclaw. Really, it doesn't bother her honestly, she feels somewhat at home in the Slytherin common room filled with her fellow purebloods, however, she never does appreciate several of her fellow house members, who are the loud, overbearingly bitchy or cocky ones, who are detirmined to bring down the order with just a flick of their wrist. Seriously, who needs those people?
Anyways, some see her as an elitist bitch, supposing that she thinks she is too good to come off her pedastal and talk to others. Others as a big fish in a small pond, while others are as intrigued by her as she can sometimes be by them. There will be those that are in awe of her but that's not what motivates Esmee Zabini. What does? Well that has been the question on everyone's lips for quite some time and is likely to plague people for years to come.
[ take a look back in time
parents: Blaise Zabini and Gabrielle Zabini (nee Delacour)
siblings:
[»] --- zabini [seventh, seventeen, slytherin] [M]
history: Esmee doesn't usually disclose nor goes out handing out pamphlets on personal matters such as oh--her life history, but since it's required, her life can be summed up as one word that is most likely made up: slightlynormalrepetitiveneutral. Mouthful, isn't it?
Anyways, Miss Esmée Veronique Zabini was born on August 12th, about 16 years ago in England, at the big Baroque styled manor that was formally known as Château de la Baguette Magique Blanche, or informally Zabini manor. She was born as the first child, and only girl of Blaise Zabini and his wife, Gillia Ambrienne. Her parents being together, unlike many pureblooded families, wasn't the cause of an arranged marriage. No, no it was the cause of selfishness. Blaise Zabini was a playboy extradonaire. In his Hogwarts days, he spent more time luring girls to his bedroom, rather than studying or going to classes. Despite his pursuits, the boy graduated with fair marks, mostly because during the last semester, he finally decided to pull himself together and attend classes. Soon there after, Blaise lived his days in and out with women, while juggling his job at the ministry. He was a known playboy, and with his lenient mother who let him do what he pleased with the fortune, there was no stopping that Zabini.
However, when he was twenty-two, on the verge from crossing over to adulthood from young adulthood, he met her. Gabrielle Delacour, the once young 2nd year who almost drowned in the Black Lake from the Tri-Wizard tournament. Well, she wasn't young anymore at the ripe age of twenty. Her long blonde hair and stunning blue eyes entranced him, just as a woman with part-veela blood should. She was beautiful. But, she was a flirt, destined to marry a lower breed of purebloods, the very one who tried to scrabble their ways up the hierarchy, only to be knocked down by those with real affluence. Anyways, she was gorgeous. He had to make her his. He was getting old, and his mother impatient for an heir. He knew he needed an heir. A sole male heir, one to carry his glory and name, and that would be it. Therefore he needed a wife, one with a respectable reputation and with blood as pure as she was. He needed an attractive wife at that also. So, with a few strings, two years and tons of charm and wooing, a twenty-four year old Blaise Zabini took the lovely Gabrielle Delacour, who was only 22 at the time, as his bride.
About ten months later, out popped the oldest Zabini child, a boy with golden-brown skin and curly little locks. Blaise was estatic, especially since this new child would be the one to carry his name. About a year or so after this male child, Esmee was born. Some say she was born feet first, others say she was dropped on her head as a child. Those are not true and just are silly rumors, however, it has always been known that she is different from her family in many ways. At the time of the child's birth, her father Blaise, was busy meeting with a bunch of men who worked at the Ministry of Magic, and in the chaos and frenzy back home, their old squib maid, Elsie, forgot to send a letter via owl to Blaise, so poor Gabrielle, had to venture through the painful effect of childbirth without a husband to scream "Look what you did to me! You gave me that fertility draught and now I'm giving birth to a bloody watermelon! Argh! (insert string of French curses here)" at.
After a few hours in labor, Gabrielle took one look at the little olive-skinned whimpering form that was infant Esmee, whipped out her breast and fell asleep with a nursing baby girl in her arms. After a good fifteen minutes or so, Gabrielle was jolted awake by Elsie, with the eldest in tow. She wished to know what she wanted to name the new little baby. Gabrielle only scowled at Elsie, but lovingly took another sleepy glance down at the baby, who now had a grasp on her finger. She stared into the baby's sharp green-blue eyes, even as it blinked them sleepily. "Esmée. Son nom est Esmée. It means loved," She cooed in her native tongue, occasionally switching back to English, "Oui, mon joli bébé, Esmée Veronique Zabini." And then she fell right back asleep. Of course, Blaise arrived soon after the birth, needless to say shocked to see a little sleeping form in his quite tired wife's arms. He quickly inquired Elsie, asking if the child was a male or female. And she told him: female. Blaise could only smile as he walked off to his private study, thinking of a pretty baby girl in his wife's arms.
The swaddled little baby that was seemed to grow and grow...and grow and grow. By the age of 1, she was already the youngest child with a older brother leading. As a young child, her mother tried to instill some sense of being a classy, little lady, in reference for future use on how to be the perfect woman. Her mother once was a care-free woman, ready to marry a man who would sweep her off her feet and love the very ground she tread on. She was sassy as she was sweet, however, Blaise did not appreciate that part of her. He beat her until she was downtrodden and submissive. However, her mother had the ability to hide her unhappy, downtrodden self of her underneath a gentle, plesant facade or mask, which usually came on when they were in the presence of their fellow nobles or aristocrats.
Although little Esmee loved having tea parties with her stuffed bear--that was somewhat creepily enchanted to actually drink tea and talk to her. The family's cook threw a Avada Kedavra curse on it when it once tried to attack Esmee--and wearing pretty dresses, she can vividly remember a time where sometimes she couldn't control her bossiness or anger. She vaguely rememers time when a girl at a birthday party had the audacity to say no when she asked to play with her doll. She can barely remember it, but all she remembers is her and the girl, tossing a few insults at each other, before the girl mentioned something about her curly hair and bloodline, and Esmee, ultimately, punching the girl in the nose. Because of such incidents, Gabrielle thought a more intensive regime was required for her daughter and hired a governess to see what she did. It was drilled into her head that purebloods were meant to rule the wizarding world, that they were just genetically superior to all. For a time, when she was foolhardy young girl, she believed it. But now, she doesn't really care per se. If flustered or upset, she will toss mudblood and insults to people's bloodlines often, but she is not extreme to the point where she wants them all gone or dead.
It wasn't a suprise when a letter fluttered in from Hogwarts in early July, just a week or so before her 11th birthday. Upon entering the great hall of Hogwarts, she was greeted with a professor, telling her to line up for sorting. There she was led into the great hall with all the other first-years. At the time, Esmee had prayed to be in Slytherin, just like her father before her (her mother had attended Beauxbatons, and from what she could tell, her mother may of made a good Slytherin). It would be a shame the day a Zabini was placed in another house. It was silent for a moment as the hat mulled over what her placement was. It didn't consult her, it just murmered something about being so earnest, keen and studious like a Ravenclaw, and yet, sly and manipulative like a Slytherin. Under her breath, the little 1st year murmered something about not being anything but a Slytherin, saying it would disgrace the Zabini name. The hat paused for a moment. "Why didn't you just say you were a Zabini." It murmered towards her, than paused. And then it finally boomed--Slytherin. Esmee relieved a loud sigh, since she had feared she may of been sorted within a lousy, stupid house.
During the first few years of her Hogwarts, she struggled to find her place in the system. She had exhibited random traits that were characterized as being Ravenclaw or Slytherin throughout her years, however seemingly, her 'Slytherin side' prevailed, leaving her to grow as a crafty, manipulative girl. When things did not go her way, instead of throwing a hissy fit, she often would think of a plan to get her these items and in the end, her craftiness was what got her some respect and friends among some Slytherins.
At the end of her 5th year, when she was about 15 going on 16, her parents approached her, telling her of her engagement to the eldest Malfoy, Scorpius. Esmee could only smile and accept this news, as if she was very much so pleased to marry someone such as Scorpius. Unlike her mother, who seemed thrilled or even slightly anxious of her only daughter being married into such a great wizarding family, Esmee, in secret, took this as a great offense this. She bitterly wept for herself, knowing that she would be confined to a life of pleasing her husband and birthing and watching her poor children grow up around such violence and nonsense. On the outside, she beared a grin and kept going. Although Scorpius seems somewhat kind (he is her brother's best friend) and is a bit handsome--okay, very handsome-- she feels as if he's hiding something from her, as if he's not the someone he appears to be. But, she knows it's hypocritical to think that, since on the inside she is bitter and at every chance she is given, she throws a sarcastic remark cover coated in a sugary, yet venomous voice, or gives someone an ironically bitter smile. Only a couple months later, she is still not ready for the life that will come ahead of her, and wonders almost every waking moment what will happen. She dreamed of having a great, highpaying job, working on her own instead of relying on her looks to get her what she wants. Now, all she can do is sit there and act pretty for everyone. She hates it, but at the same time, she is willing enough to accept it.
[ the rest of the rest
member title: ••glorified
pets?: A white persian/rag doll kitten named Cloe
anything else about your character we should know?: Meh, sorry if she seems even a bit mary-sue when it comes to her physical description. I figured all part veela characters are
roleplay sample:
| QUOTE |
| Gemini gave a strict, glacial smile towards a man who bowed politely at her--his demeanor as if she was supposed to be swept off her dainty, pureblooded feet--irony dripping off her sugar-coated, yet venomous voice as if were some sort of lines read from Othello. If there was an award for someone who could rival the frigidness, perhaps even the bitterness of a cold day in the Artic circle, it was certainly Gemini Dolohov. "Pleased to see you, Miss Avery," She heard a smooth feminine voice strain to say, as if the words effected her greatly as they were to effect Gemini. And the woman was correct as she assumed. The words did upset Gemini, but she did her best to show no outward signs nor clue of her agitation. Don't call me that, were the words she truely wanted to hiss towards the pained woman. Those were the only words right on the tip of her toungue, however, why were they not rolling off as every other word that had rolled off? Maybe the slap to her face in the private of a back room from her mother had dulled her sharp toungue. Anyways, if she dare spoke her mind again--well, those icy words would only validate everyone's belief that she was indeed the bitter, sullen daughter of Antonin Dolohov and more importantly, the icy wife of the eldest Avery. Not like she gave two damns. He was not much of a husband anyhow, he was always in his mistress' company, tending to her every whimsy need while he left a wife neglected in bed. Gemini paused her thoughts for a moment, to nod at the woman, who stared at her in disbelief, as if how dare she take more than a moment to collect her thoughts and greet her. Purebloods for you, She mused silently to herself, as she took a fleeting glance around the room, which she assumed was the parlor. She had no idea, nor did she particularly care. Well, she took that thought back. She supposed she should care, since she wasn't at her home. No, she was at another's manor. Oh, dear me, how fun. She knew these formal sorts of events were the usual for herself, yet she had no idea why she was still set to come to these petite galas. In her ardent opinion, it was no better than a slave auction. Pureblood families came from all over the area to show off their sons and daughters, strut them around, waiting for the wealthy widow of so and so or the bachelor son of the general-- whom was quite high in Voldemort's ranks by what she knew-- to come give a sweet, seductive glance at their children and hopefully ask for their hand in marriage. So, she had no idea why she was there. Besides the fact that her husband and mother both thought it'd be innappropriate for her husband to mosey on in with his whore mistress, and demanded she'd attend, Gemini was a married woman, probably only brought to the party so her husband could gloat about his new virgin goods bride. One thing she could not stand was her mother's lack of sympathy for her. She told her that her only job was to bear children and raise them, sometimes maybe to pleasure her husband too. But, it was not like she should care anyhows, they didn't even consumate it yet, therefore how would she know what..erm, pleasuring a male, or at that her husband was like? Anyways, she was one woman that was just off limits to any other male who seemed to have an eye for the tall, elegant and pretty. Truthfully, to Gemini, they were sometimes no better than cattle. All of it, was just a case of selective breeding. She snorted at a vague thought of one of the men who were there, since he did resemble a cow just a tad. A sigh escaped her soft pink-brown lips as she brought her green eyes across the room again, briefly pausing to study the figure of a man who seemed familiar and was surrounded by a couple of other males, one including her chuckling husband. Of course she knew whom he was. She casually saw him with her husband. She supposed they were friends back in their school days. With a demure, yet somehow coquet flutter of her lashes, she lowered her green stare when her husband took a look over at her, and tapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. From what she could see from the corner of her eyes, he had pointed towards her, causing a friend to glance over his shoulder at her and smile. And now, they were making their way over. Lovely. She sharply exhaled again, glancing over at her hand to see what she was holding. A wine glass. How thoughtful of herself, giving herself a toast to her life misery. Might as well make the most of this misery... And with that, she held the glass to her lips, the sudden invasion of a bittersweet white wine spilling on her lips and down her throat. With her slightest bit of imagination, she could pretend it was poison, giving her a sweet release from this life as a serpent's unwilling bride. |
esmée zabini - September 1, 2007 07:58 PM (GMT)
finished =]
ou en les mots de francais: c'est fini
ou en les mots de francais: c'est fini
james potter - September 1, 2007 09:11 PM (GMT)
A C C E P T E D !
I love her, I love her dementor, ITS AMAZING. <3
I love her, I love her dementor, ITS AMAZING. <3