Name: Patrea Cho Donnings
Age: 16.
Bloodline: Halfblood
Physical Appearance: A short little thing, Patrea has hardly the body to match her height. If Trea was any taller she would disappear, her limbs like sticks, she is not stranger to the anorexia jokes. Though already sixteen, it seems as if puberty has ignored her, her only curves being the slight flare at the waist, but with no substance to it. A pale complextion is only marred by one distinct mark which is a circle roughly the shape of a muggle pound on the inside of her left wrist. All translusent skin gained from years of being stuffed up inside her house or the castle, little color has started to settle in the past months given her new found love of sitting by the lake. Light brown hair has almost an auburn tint to it, framing her round face and oriental features.
Having always a flare for fashion, despite all the time she keeps nose deep in a book, Patrea dresses much like most of the girls of her time with a twist. Amongst the mod dresses and new relaxed style of dressing, Trea sticks more to the dresses, in fact it would be a rare occasion to see her in anything else. It's her tights that tend to point her out in the crowd. She has almost any color imagined and almost every pattern as well, some often coming across as odd.
Despite her flair for clothing, it's often in waste for cloaks almost always cover whatever dress she is wearing that day, her tights and flats often the only noticeable thing about her wardrobe.
Personality: Shy is one way to describe Patrea. Anti-social is another. Though she trys hard not to be that way, it's been habit since she was a child to shy away from others. Her main problem is that she almost absolutely refuses to start a conversation with anyone without strong reason. That attitude alone is what often marks her as somewhat of a social outcast. Often caught up in her photography, or her sketching, she unfortunately enough has been known to outright ignore people. Never on purpose, there has been a few cases where her mind completely blocked out the outside world, giving people leave to mark her as crazy. It's true, Trea is on the odd side, but she is an intelligent girl who has a great understanding on how people work. She prides herself on her ability to read people, considering almost everyone gives off their own signals, it's not really a difficult thing to do. On the downside though, she doesn't tend to have very many friends.

People like to stereotype, which is a painful, uneducated thing. Truth; Trea likes to study, in fact she often has all of her homework, research, or essays done a good day or so before most people. Though she likes to study, and loves the rush accompanyed by getting all her work done, it hardly consumes her life. Trea likes to rush and do everything out by the lake to be honest. The thing is, Patrea tends to have a lot of free time. Her sharp mind and concentration let's her get any assignments done quickly and efficiantly. So, Trea tends to spend her spare time wandering, often with camera within reach as to capture any moment that strikes her as unique.

Though she is mostly quiet and keeps to herself, Patrea isn't one to take crap from anybody. If provoked, she will strike back, whether it is with tongue or with wand. In fact, despite his connection to her as a sibling, she has wholloped poor Marcus across the side of the head on many different occassions. To the few friends she does hold, she is a loyal soul. She would defend her friends as if they were herself and once friends, she gives her entire trust, which is probably why she's been screwed over quite a few times by dishonest people. Though she does have the uncanny ability to read others, sometimes her lust for friendship blinds her from people's true nature. Bad at starting relationships there is no doubt that Trea strives to hold on to anybody who opens themselves up to her. Her standoffish personality directly conflicts with her longing for companionship. Ultimately she is a bit on the nutty side, and once she considers you a friend, it's very hard to get rid of her.
Character Background: Patrea Donnings was born as the second child to a mixed blood family. Her father, a Ministry employee was the only child of a dying pureblood line. Her mother on the other hand was a muggleborn witch from a single parent family. Patrea's maternal grandma raised her mother by her lonesome after the father bailed. It's often speculated, mostly by Trea's father, that her mother and his wife may have been in fact a mix blood, seeing as the father is unidentified. Pamela's mother was not by any means wealthy, but with a beach home deed in her name and enough money to keep herself comfortable made staying with Grandma a cherished event.

Growing up near the English-Scottish boarder was fun, though the Scottish landscape did leave lots to be desired. Patrea grew up in a magic household, only to be put into muggle schools. The house was small, a one story grey stoned haven. With a tiny kitchen, a family room in the front, there were two small bedrooms in the back. The largest naturally belonging to her parents, Marcus took the one left, leaving Patrea with the basement. Not to say she didn't love it, Marc soon realized he made the wrong decision seeing as, though the basement was a tad drafty, it was a lot more spacious. Marc was stuck in the room next to their parents, and to be honest, their father snored like no other.

Seeing as they lived in a smaller town, there wasn't nearly as much magical activity like there would be further south. Although there was hardly any families with magic in their blood, Patrea's mother knew everyone that did. Often times, from what Patrea can remember, they would hold small get togethers in the living room to talk about the latest cleaning spells and what other nonsense a young girl like Patrea would have no interest in. It's funny, because no matter how much magic a boy has in him, he is still just a boy. Marcus pulled pranks left and right, often causing much distress to his stay at home mom. Her family was happy and normal up until the year her brother, senior to Trea by three years, went to Hogwarts.

It was the autumn three years before Patrea's first year at Hogwarts. At eight years old, she had been put into muggle school by her mother who herself was muggleborn, which was a major deal to her poor pureblooded father who thought he might die with shame. Patrea's brother had just left for his first year at Hogwarts, so Trea had quite a bit of quiet time to herself when mum and dad were out and about. It was her parent's twelfth anniversary that night, and mum decided to bring her along as it was a celebration and that meant leaving none of the present family out.

The whole family, minus Marcus her older brother, went out to some fancy restaurant. The whole time Patrea couldn't help but be distracted by the smell of old people and onions, both which still haunt her today. Though not a spoiled child nor particularly fussy, Trea refused to eat anything but the garlic bread that was never far from her reach.
It was on the way home that all went wrong. Mum had been arguing with dad on something or other {young Patrea hardly could remember what, though it seemed to turn nasty quick} when the car was hit head on. Now the funny thing about the whole situation was that father hating cars. In fact, he didn't even drive. Mum always drove. Her father was raised under a strict pureblood state of mind that anything other than pureblood was filth. And yet, Trea's father had married Pamela Stroud, a muggle born witch from his year. Despite his disgust of muggle technology and way of life, Patrea's parents had a compromise of living styles. In the house was strictly magic. No tele, no muggle ways of cooking, nothing. It was their unspoken agreement. But her mum demanded they act like muggles outside of home. The automobile, the muggle grade school. And it was that agreement which killed Trea's mother. Being waist deep in an argument with her husband, Pamela Donnings didn't have the time to properly swerve out of reach from the highly intoxicated truck driver. From the crash on was all a blur to Trea, but from what she remembers, there was a loud crashing noise, a muffled scream, and her whole body was tossed about, held close by her seat belt. And then there was the scorching pain in her left arm. Had Patrea not moved her arms before her face in instinctual protection, the burning pain of the cigarette lighter would have met her face instead. But that injury was blissfully the only one, her father making it out with a broken leg, arm and a concussion. Her mother on the other hand took the blunt of the steel attack, the whole left front of the car compacted by the blunt force of the speeding truck.

With the loss of her mother, her brother at school, and her dad in mourning, Trea stopped going to muggle school. In fact, she stopped talking to almost everyone with the exception of a few quiet words to her family. Often spending days home alone after her mother's death, Patrea found her mother's old 35mm camera. At the age of nine, Trea clung to the camera as if it was her mother herself, and started curiously taking pictures of everything and anything. Fairly alienated from the world for a good two years, Patrea's first year at Hogwarts was hard. She was unfamiliar with social graces, and didn't talk to anyone for a good few months, not even to the professors. But getting into the hold of school, and relaxing her walls, Trea began to talk and interact with those around her.

Awkward since day one, Patrea is still socially challenged when it comes to big groups of people. She tends to ask inappropriate questions, or butts in at awkward times. Though it is not at all bad when she is thrust into smaller situations, Trea is like a fish out of water. She just needs patience and help. In reality she is a bright, genuine girl with just a dead mum for baggage.

Special Request(available at Intermediate) None yet ;].
Desired House: Ravenclaw
Roleplay Sample:

The clock, hanging up upon the wall of her dorm, struck 8 with a dull tapping noise, the sound barely registering in the occupied Ahmelie’s mind. The thin framed girl, head full of dark brown hair, sticking out which way and that, was quite comfortable in her jimjams, blacks shorts escorted by a dark grey tank top. This girl, hurrying through book after book, quill scratching at parchment in a noisy, simplistic way, was working hard on finishing her homework; she had someone to meet… BUGGER IT ALL. She was late! The time finally registered in her cluttered mind, the sudden panic causing her to leap off her bed. “Stupid, you’re already late. You told him seven thirty!” Shuffling her books and papers around, she found her wand, setting it before her before dodging into her extensive closet {something she managed to create during her forth year, bloody useful, she asked McGonagall for help with the spells.} dipping out of her pajamas, replacing them with blue jeans and a plain black tee-shirt. Then she had an idea. In the chat room, a mere hour before, they had talked about leather corsets.

A devious smile creeping across her face, she ducked out of the closet, grabbing hold of her want and a school shirt. Setting the piece of clothing down on the bed, she searched her mind for the spell. You should really study your transfiguration better darling. Finding the word in her head, she spoke, flicking her wrist and turning her hand as she did so, wand emitting purple sparks. “Mutatiovestis.” Concentrated hard on the image she saw in her mind, the shirt stretch, and twisted, becoming a complete copy of what she had been thinking of. Instead of the plain white shirt, there was a bright pink and teal thing sitting before her. It was nothing like the dominatrix leather bits they were talking about, but it sure as hell was stunning. Pink, with thick pink boning all along it, it had teal lace inset between the boning. It was amazing, to be sure, and she was surprised that it had sprouted from her imagination. It was soft, yet made to drive boys crazy, and Ahme knew she meant to drive a certain boy crazy. The time dawning on her once again, Ahme shimmied her pants down, and her shirt up with all haste, fastening the artwork to her body, the sensual undergarment fitting her thin body like a glove, and amazingly enough made the illusion of curves. Tugging up, and fastening her pants, she jerked her shirt down, brought a shaky hand through her hair and shoved her wand in her back pocket. Let’s go. Slipping shoes on, simple black ballet flats, she smothered the lights and slipped out of her darkened dorm.

“748. 748. 748.” Ahmelie pushed the number up to the tip of her tongue, reminding herself with ever step as she quickly traveled down the steps. Hastened by the urgency that was brimming under the surface, the panic of being late, everything, she was all the hurry. Finding her way up the boy’s stairs, brown eyes darted from doorway to doorway, a familiar number catching her gaze. Room 748. Coming to a halt, Ahme stood outside the door, breathing strained, a hesitation in her blood. Caleb is in there. Teeth digging into her lower lip, she bit with all the doubt, and uncertainty she had, eager to rid herself of it and be bold. Knock, or just walk in? Ahmelie Payne, just get over yourself. Walk in there. He is waiting . Taking hold of the handle to the door, his door, she slowly pushed forward. Opening it wide enough to slip in, she closed the door behind her as she did just that, finding herself in a darkened room, candle light flickering, and a Caleb before her, on what she assumed was his bed. Going through Ahme’s mind? How it indeed smelt of pine needles and pumpkin pie.

By the smile on her face, and the way she held herself, you would have never guessed that this girl was second-guessing every move she made. She wanted this, whatever this was going to turn out to be, but she didn’t, and yet she did.

Tonight, something was going to happen.