Application
CHARACTER STATS:
Name: Rose Marie Anglesey
Date of Birth: August 20th, 1959
Occupation: Aspiring photographer
Blood status: Half-blood
Former House: Slytherin
Wand: Willow and dragon heartstring, 11 1/4”
Gringotts Vault: 640; it’s a trust fund.
Familial and Spousal Units: Parents, Jack and Maria (pronounced “mar-EYE-ah”, as Maria is quick to point out) Anglesey.
HISTORY:
The daughter of a very calm wizard and an histrionic Muggle, Rose, in her opinion, got the best all around: her father’s magic and disposition and her mother’s looks. The Angleseys aren’t particularly old money - Maria’s people made a small fortune in the Industrial Revolution, and Jack’s a very successful horse breeder - but nouveau riche is still riche, and Rose grew up near Dover with all the trappings of a rather over-indulged, sibling-free childhood. Even when very young she strongly favored her father, and they’re still very close; her relationship with her mother, on the other hand, is strained at best. Maria means well, but she’s overbearing, dramatic, and a bit silly, none of which has ever sat very well with her daughter.
The separation, when she went to Hogwarts, was a breath of fresh air for Rose, though she missed Jack far more than she tried to let on to her peers. He was in Ravenclaw, but no one who knew the girl was surprised when she was instead sorted, almost immediately, into Slytherin. She didn’t jive particularly well with her classmates, but wouldn’t have been likely to in any house - she shared their willingness to breach ethical considerations to get what she wanted, and most certainly shared the selfishness common to the house, but she’s never been cruel, and is too proud to suck up to authority or bend her opinions for personal gain. The tendency toward toadying exhibited by so many of her classmates always struck her as pathetic, and the preoccupation with wizarding society and power as boring. She kept largely to herself, then, tolerating but not particularly befriending her housemates.
Her relationships with professors were no less troubled. Though intelligent, Rose frankly couldn’t be arsed to do menial things like turn in homework or show up for class, and was caught a few times too many smoking behind the greenhouses or in the loo. As she grew older, drinking and minor substances abuses were added to the list of transgressions, along with occasionally hexing classmates for things like “being a fucking idiot” or “not taking a bloody hint”. Malice wasn’t the problem, and Rose is, actually, capable of kindness when so moved, but her arrogance and impatience too often got the better of her. If it wasn’t skipping class, it was mouthing off at professors, etc., etc. Letters home to her parents were not uncommon, and Filch’s detention files were well-acquainted with the girl’s name.
The problem multiplied when she turned fifteen and discovered boys. Boys quickly took a place of high importance in Rose’s life; boys were interesting in a way that homework never was, that stupid things like House Spirit and Joining Extracurricular Activities never could be. Over the summer between fourth and fifth year, Rose went from a slightly leggy child who spent too much time on her hair to the sort of teenaged girl that turns heads - and she knew it. She had the figure, the confidence, the sex drive, and the moxy to do something with all of that. By Halloween she knew what she was doing; by Christmas she was getting a reputation. By finals it was well-established that Rose Anglesey was easy, and she didn’t particularly care that everyone knew what she got up to, or with whom. All the sleeping around did have the benefit of winning her a few genuine (if not overwhelmingly close) friends here and there, mostly with male peers. (It did little to win her the affection of the other girls, as she didn’t see much problem in taking up with people’s boyfriends; if the guy was willing to screw around, Rose figured it was his problem, not hers.)
The reckless habits formed at Hogwarts have done her no favors out of school, and indeed the last two and a half years have led Rose down a potentially very dangerous road. Her love of alcohol, cigarettes, sex and jazz made her a shoe-in to frequent any number of questionable night clubs in cities here and there. Her trust fund allows enough money for a steady supply of coke, and while she’s not debilitatingly dependent on the stuff, it could teeter into becoming a problem. Still, even with the coke habit, if she’d kept to the music and the more hedonistic pursuits it might’ve been one thing. But Rose’s good looks and moral ambiguity have won her a new set of “friends” that are decidedly on the wrong side of the law. Though not engaged in criminal activity herself, she does have solid connections to people who are. It goes beyond petty theft and blackmail - more than once she’s known more than she cared to about violent robberies and assaults reported in the Daily Prophet, and she’s gotten in a little too deeply now to just be able to walk away. At the moment she’s trying to balance on the fringes of that life - in enough to not arouse suspicion of narcing, out enough to not get caught in the crossfire if people get a little too bitchy while strung out or sunk in bad deals. It’s not a good situation, and she knows it.
What does have the potential to go well is her career. Though she’ll never have to work for a living, Rose does have one passion in life outside of sex, drugs and music: photography. She’s got an eye for it, and her dream is to see her name up with the greats. The problem is that it’s hard to break into the field, and Rose - never one to balk at moral scruples - is willing to do what she has to do to get her photographs noticed. At the moment she’s working free-lance for the Daily Prophet. It’s stupid work, point-and-click, no art whatsoever, but it’s a start. And if the boredom of snapping shots of Quidditch gods and dull political figures makes her chain-smoke a little more than usual, well. At least she looks damned good doing it.
PERSONALITY:
The first thing to know about Rose is that she is, first and foremost, looking out for herself. She’s got a well-developed taste for gin, sex and expensive shoes, and she is not the whore with the heart of gold - just a lot of moral ambiguity. She cares far more about her own neck than anyone's ideology or platform; she’s a born cynic who figures that the world is going to hell in a hand basket, so why not have fun on the way down? She’s willing to do what it takes to get what she wants, be that lie, cheat, or steal. If there isn’t something in a situation for her, then it isn’t worth being in.
She can also be unremittingly sharp in relation to other people. She swears like a sailor and can be awfully snarky if she doesn’t like someone - another Slytherin trait she’s got in spades is a talent for hitting below the belt, emotionally, and if Rose sees weakness she’ll take her shot. (It’s the other person’s fault for showing it in the first place, of course; they probably had it coming.) She’s slow to anger but quick to be irritated, and has very little patience for stupidity. She also has an unfortunate habit of running her mouth when she really shouldn’t - sometimes her pride keeps her from just shutting up, against common sense.
That being said, she’s not heartless. Rose chooses to keep an arm’s length from most people, but she is capable of forming real attachments. She would do literally anything for her father, for one, and she does have a handful of real friends here and there. With people who don’t piss her off she’s genial, if a little distant, and while she could never be described as cuddly, she can be fun to be around. She’s not as aloof as she likes people to think, nor as duplicitous - the bad-ass, stiletto-wearing tough girl routine is about 75% real. The other 25% is all a put-on, an image that she’s carefully cultivated and intends to maintain. She does have soft spots, and though they’re well-guarded they aren’t impossible to find. And she isn’t cruel. She had the misfortune of being in the same House and year as some of the most horrifyingly violent students to have left Hogwarts recently, and she kept a disgusted distance from them most of the time. Rose can be a bitch, but she’s not a sadist, and she’d never intentionally cause serious physical damage to another person. (The odd hex, slap, or knee to the balls is another story.) She has the potential to be more than what she is - she just hasn’t seen any good reason to bother.
MENTAL:
As might be expected from someone with as sharp a tongue as Rose’s, she a clever witch. Her intelligence is something of a double-edged sword lately, though. She was smart enough to find people who shared her tastes in debauchery, but now she’s stuck in dangerous associations; she’s bright enough to hide her drug habits from her parents, but now that’s got the potential to spiral downward very quickly. It’s not a full-blown addiction yet, but Rose’s recklessness is bad combination with drugs, and it’s a habit that could go either way right now. Emotionally she’s almost a little too stable; it’s easy for her to remain aloof specifically because you have to know exactly what buttons to push to get anything more than a coolly studied nonchalance. This maintains her image, on the one hand, but it can also keep people from getting close.
PHYSICAL:
So far, despite a somewhat hazardous lifestyle, Rose has lucked out with good health. She was blessed with physical beauty, to boot, and shamelessly uses that to her advantage wherever she can. She’s relatively athletic, if in a somewhat unconventional sense - considering her father’s occupation, she was raised on and around horses, and is a good rider. She still jumps at the chance whenever she visits her parents, and one of those unexpected soft spots is her horse, Gatsby. Her threshold for pain isn’t anything special; she can take getting slapped around a little, but hasn’t been tested past that.
MAGICAL:
Transfiguration - A; Potions - A; Charms - E; Muggle Studies - E; Astronomy - A.
Rose’s mediocre grades are a reflection of apathy toward schoolwork, not of her abilities. She could have done better, but when she knew she’d never need to support herself she saw little point in making the effort. Her time was better spent on other pursuits. She’s better with practical spellwork than with fancier, more theoretical things, but she picks up new skills quickly when needed. No special magical abilities or talents in particular.
POLITICAL:
On the whole, she thinks everyone needs to dial it down about six notches. She thinks the Death Eaters have clearly gone off their heads, but she doesn’t see why it’s worth the risk to fight them, either. The war hasn’t affected her personally, so why stick her neck out? She’s not particularly concerned with what Crouch is or isn’t doing, either. She figures mostly that it’s all fucked one way or another, anyway.
In their own words, how would your character describe themselves?:
This isn’t some New Age touchy-feely bullshit, is it? Because I’ve gotta tell you, if it is, you’re wasting my time and your breath. If it’s not - people have described me as a lot of things, but they can all fuck themselves, right? If you really wanna know, just come along for the ride. I’m a busy girl; I’ve got things to do. Just don’t get in my way.
Write a sample post:
*She could almost handle the pointlessness if it weren’t for the goddamned waiting. Camera hanging around her neck, Rose leans against the wall outside the very important building of a very important musician whose very important divorce went through today. She’s supposed to be getting a shot of the poor bastard for the Prophet, and while she supposes that, yeah, his situation is shit, she’s more worried about her own dilemma. Namely: she’s sucking away at her last cigarette, and Mr. Bereft Guitarist could take hours. She draws on it speculatively, weighing the odds that the guy will finally come out of his solicitor’s office if she Apparates off to grab another pack. With the luck she’s having today, it’s not a good risk. Still, the fag’s nearly down to her fingers (she smokes unfiltered ones, on principle). The prospect of waiting without the consolation of nicotine is fucking awful. Her carefully-lipsticked mouth twists in displeasure - and then there’s salvation. A boy a few years younger than her is crossing the street, and he’s exactly what she needs: fresh-faced, clearly too young to know any better, with that indefinable I’m A Nice Guy, Please Use Me look that spells out ‘sucker’ better than a sign pinned to his chest. Checking that the v-neck of her dress is just low enough, Rose quickly tosses her cig behind her, straightens up, and calls to him in a fair approximation of damsel-in-distress. Always works on his type.*
Hey, honey! You got a minute? I could really use a hand, here.