BLACK, Narcissa

[`narcissa virga black]

• NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK •
diamonds are a girl's best friend.

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I KNOW THAT I'M ALIVE
the basics
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full name, Miss Narcissa Virga Black
1990's or 1970's? 1970’s
nicknames, Cissa, Cissy, Narci.
age, fifteen, nearly sixteen
birthday, October 30th
year, fifth
house, Slytherin
blood status, pureblooded, thank you very much.
wand, 10 ½ inches, Ash, Unicorn tail hair
broom, n/a

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WHEN YOU CALL ON ME
the appearance
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hair color, My hair, I would say, is my best feature. It’s a lustrous honey blonde, fading lightly during the summer months spent at picnics and social parties. It curls lightly unless pressed flat by some sort of handy charm work that my mother insists upon.
eye color, My eyes are blue; they shine, they sparkle but there’s nothing really grand about them. They’re not a sea blue that lovers can get lost in, and nor are they the glass blue of icebergs. They’re simply blue.
height, 5’5”
weight, 115 pounds.
general appearance
Sometimes, late at night, I wonder how all people (even the blind and dumb) don’t find me utterly radiant. I mean, most do, but that’s also coupled up with compliments on my family, wealth, and whatever tall, dashing man is trying to court me this week (or the one I wish was attempting to win my already well-won heart) at my side. I know society, I know that it’s founded on the basis of climbing a social ladder through compliments, trickery, and looks. My hair, I would say, is my best feature. It’s a lustrous honey blonde, fading lightly during the summer months spent at picnics and social parties. It curls lightly unless pressed flat by some sort of handy charm work that my mother insists upon; messy anything will not do for a Black. My eyes are blue; they shine, they sparkle but there’s nothing really grand about them. They’re not a sea blue that lovers can get lost in, and nor are they the glass blue of icebergs. They’re simply blue.

My cheeks will forever cause me frustration, I’m sure. They’re childishly rounded, giving me that small pinch-able piece of flesh older relatives and taunting cousins seem to feel the need to grab. And it’s not for lack of weightloss or a healthy diet; it’s just the damnable bone structure. They’re always quite pale, as is the rest of my complexion. I find myself pinching my own cheeks hoping to give me an eager warmth or virginal flush. I’m short, but certainly not boyishly stocky (though, I do wish my, err, assets were more plentiful- if you understand my meaning). I have a few scars, mostly from Bella’s rough play while we were children, but the most visible is a jagged one on my thigh.

I prefer knee length dresses and robes- appropriate for a lady, but still young enough looking. My mother does not agree, and it’s one of the very few things I challenge her on. I am a modern pureblooded lady; I know what is passing the lines of propriety. Semi-revealing dresses are not what men are worrying over. I may wear shorter clothing, more playful wear if I wish. I am, however, above rolling my school skirts. There is a different between sweetly seductive and a common whore. My boys certainly haven’t said anything negative about my choice of garb (as far as I know). I prefer silk on my robes, as well as my sheets for that soft and swishy feeling over my skin. What can I say? I’m a young woman of indulgences.

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WHEN YOU REACH FOR ME
the personality
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likes,
I could give you a list a mile long of things I like and want, and I’d be pleased to do nothing but talk about what you can do to please me. I like soft materials, especially silk. There’s just something so very sensual and luxurious about silk. My family and my wealth and standing come next on this list; blood is thicker than wine and when your blood entitles you to everything you have now and will have you can’t help but be grateful. I like holding and attending parties, but more importantly, I like being the center of attention at these parties. Do you know what else is pretty smashing? Men. Especially blond men. Being a lady I'm not too blatant about my adoration of the male figure, but I'm allowed to appreciate it inwardly and with peers, am I not? I like warm weather and picnics. I also enjoy shopping and dancing. I prefer a large, lavish meal to little snacks throughout the day. I adore hot chocolate and earl grey tea. If I permit myself to be close enough to a boy, I do enjoy being ‘the little spoon’.
dislikes,
Dislikes are just as easy to come by for me. I could, and will complain endlessly if something displeases me until it’s removed. I dislike any form of vulgarity; either in appearance, attitude, or speech. I’m a lady of proper breeding from an old, pure wizarding family; I don’t want to be witness to such disgusting animalistic behaviors. I don’t like participating in sports, but I do like watching them some of the time. I abhor flying, but it’s most just because of a completely grounded and real fear of it. You strap yourself to a broom and let it take you who knows how high into the sky! Did you ever think what could happen if you fell? No. I’d rather keep both of my feet firmly on the ground after what happened the last time someone forced me onto their broom. I hate not being the focus and being pampered, along with having no one or nothing to entertain me. I’m judgmental and look firmly down upon whores, blood traitors, half breeds, and mudbloods. I don’t think twice about people that believe they’re above me. I dislike the color brown, unless it’s paired with a lovely shade of teal. I hate shellfish and foreign food. I cannot stand cold toast, redheaded boys, certain relatives for certain reason, macaroni and cheese, orange juice, lemon juice in open wounds, or back pain.
strengths,
My most obvious strength would be my beauty. It astounds, distracts, lures, and works to my advantage in every single way possible. My father could never resist a small pout, so easily formed upon my lips. Other men, I’ve discovered, are even less immune. The swish of my hair, the subtle movement of my body against theirs’, and the brush of a hand against their flesh gets me whatever I want. And best of all, it leads men to think I’m dull-witted. Hah! You never, ever, ever trust a woman who uses her looks to get what she wants. There’s always quick wit and a rapier like tongue readying itself behind her barricade of white pearly teeth. I’m profoundly socially skilled, knowing just what to say and when to murmur it. That ties right into my vocabulary's strength (though that does become strained the more flustered I become). On my side I also battle the world with a family fortune, connections, and alliances the Minister of Magic himself would die for. I’m a wonderful hostess, using all of the above skills to become proficient at party-throwing. Oh, and I have quite a hand at healing charms.
weaknesses,
I strongly dislike any mention of my imperfections; one does not wish to align themselves with an imperfect mess, now do they? I have at terrible temper, let loose with almost minimal coaxing. Usually one of my sisters is involved, truth be told, or another girl who believes she is of my standing yet cannot be called even remotely a comrade or peer. I see red and lash out- though only verbally. A lady never raises her hand (nor tells when her man raises one to her). Despite believing myself thoroughly modern, I find myself clinging to traditional values- and roles of man. I cannot imagine a future where I would be responsible for myself. I’ve gotten bitten quite nastily for this subservience, my hopes and dreams never accounted for much in my father’s eyes. I only hope my husband will never forget that I am a real person with my own needs. I’m terribly rotten at potions and transfiguration- embarrassingly so. I have little hold for alcohol. I’m a bit pretentious and more than a bit vain. But don’t I have good reason to be so? I have a weakness for blond men, puppies, and babies.
worst fear,
Dying without making my father proud, marrying the man I love, and having babies. It’d be the most unbelievable tragedy. And Flying.
boggart, Aunt Walburga looking furious with a corset in one hand and the little whip she used to smack our knuckles with, in the other.
amortenia, cauldron smoke, leather, and brandy.
sexuality, very, very straight.
overall personality,
Many believe Narcissa’s personality to be straightforward and simple, however it can be classified only as a product of her environment. She was raised in a luxurious and defined household. Most would claim she ‘became quickly adjusted to her wealth’, but there was no adjusting. She was raised not knowing that anything outside of her world existed.When she was old enough to handle it, her father and mother preached what would become the fundamental of her life from that point onward; if you were not pureblood, you were nothing but a blasphemous street urchin. The thought was preached and ingrained into the open mind of Narcissa Black, and stuck with her through most of her life.

However, though her childhood was strict and she was raised to follow certain procedures that were expected of her, she grew up to expect and receive the best of everything from clothing to friends. She respected and ‘loved’ her parents, and when they were sure she would never disrespect them or harm their social standing, they ‘loved’ her in return. When it was her father’s will to take an upstanding husband, she did (though it should be said she would have taken said husband if she hadn’t been asked in the first place). The patriarchal household had its other effects on Narcissa, creating a woman who was obedient to the male gender. Far less outgoing in either sense than both of her sisters, she clung first to her father’s household and rules and would eventually do the same to her husband

Narcissa is self absorbed, turning her head to only care for her sister and mind her father. Her breeding has gotten her far, her looks even farther. She is fully aware that she won her standing into today's society. However, she's changed from who she was before. child no longer, Narcissa feels a new, important chapter of her life approaching. She has a short temper, and most of those close to her will tell you to avoid her when she gets into one of her 'moods'. Her temper is even shorter with dealing with the kind of people she can’t stand. Rejection is also something that hurts her quite deeply; for she really has been denied so few times she doesn't know how to cope.

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WHEN YOU BLESS THE DAY
the history
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mother & family, My mother is Druella Black, nee Rosier. I have a cousin on her side, but I know very little about it.
father &family, Cygnus Black. My father’s side is the Black family, the one that is my own. We’re the product of a long line for Blacks. My grandparents are old, well off, and reclusive. They prefer the warmth of beaches and sand than the cool English Countryside. Sometimes I see them on Holidays, but less so now that I am married. They did raise two wonderful men- my darling Father and his brother, Orion. Aunt Wallburga is alright, but she’s got even more of a temper than I. She’s quite the…witch. Pardon me. Her two sons are quite different. Reggie is adorable. He’s the youngest out of all the Blacks, and he’s still the only one younger than I. No matter how old he grows he’ll still be my baby cousin. His former brother matters almost as little to me as my former sister. I have one remaining sister, Bellatrix Lestrange- nee Black. Her husband Rodolphus , my Brother in law, is a fine man (as is his brother, Rabastan).
siblings, Bellatrix Black, Seventh, Slytherin. Andromeda Black, Sixth, Ravenclaw.
overall history,

I was born on October 30th. I was my father’s last hope for a male heir; three daughters were enough to handle, thank you very much. I was the youngest, of course, and had the third lightest hair. My mother and father were both sure it would darken as I got older, to match the hue of both their own and my sisters’ locks. It never did. I was christened a few weeks afterwards, I’d been too frail to leave the nursery earlier than that. My first name, for the first time in generations, was not a constellation. Unlike the good, star-like names of Andromeda, Bellatrix, my father Orion, and both cousins born after me, I was given a name solely derived from a myth.

Narcissus believed himself to be such perfection he treated those around him like scum. The gods cursed him something fierce, and he became enthralled with his own reflection and perished gazing upon it. My father instructed that I should be name for someone that was clearly so self-righteous and self centered as I; I had dictated my own birth, being born two months too early and as frail as a baby bird, had I not? He still tells me I was already preening in infanthood. My second name was one my mother suggested. Perhaps she just wanted to give me any constellation name that would work; Merlin knew she wanted her girls to fit in with the Blacks- they’re a selective bunch who don’t even take too kindly to those who married in. Perhaps she had some foresight and saw the little lady I’d become. Maybe she liked the ring to it. No matter, they changed the male endings to something more suitable for me, a blonde daughter, and I was dubbed Narcissa Virga.

I spent most of my childhood in the nursery, like most other well bred children. It was a large room with three large bassinets, toddler-sized beds, porcelain dolls, stuffed unicorns and nifflers, caged birds that hummed different scales, child sized tables and chairs, child-safe tea sets, and any other thing someone could dream up for three girls and their boy cousins who were prone to visits. All of the girls stayed in the child paradise until they received their Hogwarts letter and then their own set of rooms. I wouldn’t deny it, she’d spent most of my childhood tailing after her sisters and pulling them into playing with her. Sometimes it ended violently, sometimes I got my way. When Bella left, Andi played with me more often. Perhaps she understood that I needed attention.

It must be said, before I go on, that I come from a pureblood house hold. I was raised with a firm set of beliefs that included our blood superiority. Dirty bloods, filthy bloods, half breeds, and mudbloods were below us and the scum of the wizarding world. However, being very much locked away as a child, I’d really just been parroting the ideals back without any firsthand experience with the lot. It was shocking to find, even on the ride to Hogwarts, that they were just a largely stupid lot. The mudblood girls wore pants and the like, they couldn’t comprehend any of even the most basic stories I’d been told in the nursery. A few didn’t even know what the houses were. I’d been following Andi, until that point, but quickly sought out Bella. Her group of friends was made up of those who’d been raised much like us, and with values like us.

I was sorted into Slytherin, the hat whispering something about the irony of my loyalty to blood purity. My classes came and went; some went well while others did not. It was an awkward period for me, I’ll admit it. That age, until a young woman starts to really mature, is an unhappy time. I wasn’t the social butterfly I was now; that took prompting from my eldest (and the only one I now treated as one) sister. As I grew older, landmarkingly around my fourth year Christmas holiday, I began noticing how easy it all was; to smile and be pleasing, to dress right and to impress. It wasn’t until I really started gaining that reputation for perfection that I realized just how some girls acted. I couldn't possibly let myself stoop to that level of debauchery to find a male. I was a lady. But I could notice men and let men notice me. I became available to dating and courting, letting men take me to Hogsmeade and write little love sonnets.. It’s making me test my boundaries in a way that’s almost exciting. And isn’t that what being a young woman is about, being exciting?

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I GET WINGS TO FLY
the player
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name/alias, Maria
gender, female
age, 18.
contact, AIM: ilashhx
other characters, ADMIN.
experience, almost a decade.
how you found us, my mind!
roleplay sample.

One foot on the experience of brewing a successful batch of Amortentia.

Narcissa stared down at her planned with a rather defined scowl. She’d put the assignment off all weekend thinking Professor Cadmus would force her to do the exam again. But he hadn’t; he’d thoroughly melted her with a birthday surprise but she must have done something correctly for him to change the exam into a few assignments…ones he had let her do perched in his lap and asking questions that would quickly give her the answers. Perhaps if every piece of homework, classwork, and exam was like that she’d be passing potions with flying colors. But she wasn’t.

And this whole being the teacher’s pet (if that wasn’t an apt name for her, then she didn’t know what was) suddenly had rather annoying downslide. She hadn’t brewed a successful batch of the love potion. She’d brewed a batch of some sort of flesh-eating liquid. She bit her lip and pulled the quill out from under Echo, her newly received white kitten. She had plopped her fluffy white body on top of it when the other kitten she’d received had decided he wanted it all for himself. Nemesis (the black one) had then fallen from the table and begun destroyed the common room furniture. Echo had taken a nap. But when Narcissa took the quill away she stretched and disappeared as, it seemed, was her usual fashion.

It was the free period after dinner and before potions. Because of the transfers there were classes that went after dinner besides Astrology now. Some days it was quite painful to sit through a lecture when all she wanted to do was be curled up reading a magazine. Others, like today, it seemed rather brilliant. She wasn’t going to think so, more than likely, when a certain teacher went to grade these essays. She waited until the last possible minute before scribbling I found that brewing a successful batch of Amortentia was a waste of my time. And then I started to bleed. beneath her header.

She rolled up the piece of parchment, stuck it into her bag, and then darted of to the potions classroom.

Everyone deposited their scrolls into a basket to be graded by the Professor while groups of two or three brewed small batches of blood replenishing potion. Narcissa’s partner was a rather skilled potential potion’s mistress who was rather happy to do the whole thing while Narcissa skimmed through a catalog. The girl both took enjoyment in doing the whole thing herself and was rather aware that if Narcissa was even permitted to stir the liquid that they might be in for a defective potion and a failing grade. The blonde hadn’t had time to window shop for herself because she’d been so busy perusing men’s catalogs for the perfect thank you gift. Nor had Narcissa had the time to replace her potion’s text…again. It seemed as if this was the perfect partnership.

She crossed her legs and circled a few things with her self-inking quill, even daring herself to admire the lingerie section that the store offered. Her heart raced after a few moments and she kept looking around to see if Phineas was behind her. It would be better, she finally decided, to admire that section in the privacy of her own room. No one would even see lingerie on her, she reasoned. But then again, half the fun of naughty underwear was wearing it and having it be your own little secret.

When the bell rung there was a clamoring in the room as everyone brought up their little phials (because most of the class had been done for five or ten minutes by now and was sitting in silence for fear of angering the Professor) and shifted around to get their essays. Narcissa, however, folded the page on her catalog and slowly tucked it into her bag. She did the same with the rest of her belongings, making sure to wipe her quill clean on her partner’s sweater. She even cleaned the work station with a quick sweep of her wand. What a good partner she was.

She slid her bag’s strap over her shoulder and made her way up to the group of students standing around Professor Cadmus’ desk. She was aware of the whispering between peers and the sound as her heals clicked against the stone floor. Everyone was excited about the masquerade tomorrow evening. I was all that was worth talking about.

And then she was suddenly aware of another familiar sound…one that wasn’t a desk drawer being pulled out (though she did register that in her mind, happy that the throng of students would soon be out of her way).

It was a meow. The noise was almost indignant sounding.

Narcissa pulled the flap on her bag open, rooting around her bag hoping that her cat had crawled in there. She couldn’t find her. Narcissa’s eyes went wide and her heart began to race. After Phineas’ not so subtle rejection for her presence the previous night she didn’t want another chastisement about the feline. She had sincerely thought he’d liked the kitten on Sunday, but the tides had seemed to quickly turn away from her.

She bent down, looking under the desks and benches as she bit her ruby red lip.

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I CAN TOUCH THE SKY
the player
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[``♠MARIA]