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 [H]Margo Drozdova, #teamdrozd
evan166th year馃拝pureblood5'6"
Hufflepuff
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Jan 6 2018, 04:23 PM   Link Quote
Name:
    Margarita Yakovlevna Drozdova

Age:
    Sixteen

Year:
    Sixth

Bloodline:
    Pureblood

Do you have more than one character? If yes, did you get permission to make this one, and from which admin?:
    stells shelved kaz for me ;-;

Appearance:
    she pwetty

Personality:
    Rebellion: the action or process of resisting authority, control, or convention

    Margo lives her own life in her own way. She's done anything she can throughout her life to seize control over the way she lives from others, and places her own ideas for herself far over others. She often makes impromptu decisions which can lead to some not-so-great situations, such as constantly being in a rut of sleeping with strangers she doesn't really know, or cutting off all of her hair at random one time when she was younger. These situations are ones she doesn't particularly mind, but they aren't the best way for her to be. She detests the "safe" route, living an adventurous life and taking risks without much of a second thought. Because of this, she is often covered in bruises and scrapes, testaments to her adventurous nature: running through the forest, climbing trees, sliding down the banners of the moving staircases. She is a young woman who lives life very much to the beat of her own drum. Pranks are fun, jokes are hilarious, and making prejudiced purebloods uncomfortable was so often the most entertaining thing to do.

    Flirtation: behaving in such a way as to suggest playful attraction

    Flirting, teasing, winning people over. Though Margo dances to her own song, uncaring of how others see her, she very much enjoys the game of making people fall in love with her. Romantic, perhaps, yes: kissing is a wonderful hobby and one that she considers herself rather adept at, but not all flirting had to be romantic. Flirting with ideas, flirting with new hobbies, flirting through words, or body movement or the way she fashioned her clothes. Everything about Margo is carefully built up for a specific purpose: she treats fashion as an extension of her body language. She loves to entice people, and every time someone new bites the bait she reels them in with glee.

    Supportive: providing encouragement or emotional help

    Though flirtation is a hobby just as valid to Margo as her caring for animals or her art, the real place where Margo's heart lies is in her love and care for anybody who might need it. Raised pureblood by the Drozdovs of all people, Margo isn't without prejudice: her words towards muggles and muggleborns may seem odd compared to her usual friendly speech, but it must be known that she means well at all times. Muggles fascinate her in a way that she never felt comfortable enough to be truly honest about to her father, though she does adore in relaying her muggle-related experiences and newfound knowledge to her particularly pureblood friends and family: watching Grisha squirm is always an entertaining pastime, after all. There is very little one could be or do to make Margo want to cut ties with you, if anything at all. While her childhood was spent looking after the animals in her estate, her schoolyears have been spent caring after the delicate creatures that were her fellow students. Bullying is not something she would ever be involved with, although those who mean to hurt her feelings or do her any kind of harm - physical or emotional - are swift to meet a nasty hex right where it hurts the most. An angel she is indeed, but not one afraid to stick up for herself.

    Content: in a state of peaceful happiness; satisfied.

    Unlike most of the other engaged purebloods she knows, Margo adores her arranged husband-to-be and often goes out with him when they both have time. Her rebellious fires are stoked to burning blazes by the young man who's family are looked upon so dreadfully by the other purebloods, and she uses that to her advantage by using knowledge learnt from him to shock the snottier types of purebloods into thinking she has mudblood-loving leanings. The most obvious thing about Margo, from first look, is how happy she is. No front involved, no mask hiding away years of feeling like a beautiful caged bird: she is delighted and enjoying her life... and her biggest aim to make sure that those who deserve it can also access a life just as happy.

Character Background:
    A bird kept in a golden cage is still trapped.

    The Drozdov estate was by far the most beautiful of cages, with it's beautiful rooms like a dollhouse come to life; and the gardens and woods that seemed to stretch far beyond the curve of the earth. The grass was emerald green, the snow was diamond white. The sky went on and on as though it might never stop, as though the estate spanned further than the eye could ever see; as though the family of Drozdov owned the whole of Russia. The blackbirds found their home up there, in that ever-stretching monolith of blue, and when Margo was a tiny child she often watched the birds soar and dance. She would follow them, jumping over trenches, dashing between trees until she could see them again; or following their twits and tweets. She would spend days out there, following the blackbirds, but every day would end the same. The birds would fly over the walls of the estate. and Margo would stare at them, defeated, and begin the journey home. A cage can be beautiful, can wonderful, can be full of those you love... but a cage is still a cage.

    She can into the world shouting, and it seemed that that temper and volume never really left her system. Margarita had been a pleasant enough child, one that the many servants could deal with for the most part, but she did enjoy screaming. In her early years, some might have called her "difficult", but the most simple word was bratty. When anything was offered to her, she wanted something else. She would fall in love with eating cherries, but when asked to eat her cherries, suddenly "No" - her favourite word - and cherries became the thing she hated most of all. She was wild and untameable, even by her older sisters. Though she loved her sisters more than anything in the world, and in turn her brother too, that fiery spark in her heart burned bright and dreamed of rebellion. Margo quite quickly came to realise that refusing to do what people tell her could be very, very fun.

    The shouting and screaming faded away as her toddler years did, an angry impudent nature quickly blown away in the breeze. Frowns and furrowed brows became quickly replaced by a smug smirk, a laugh and a wink. Disobeying the rules became her biggest source of fun. She had been eight when she鈥檇 thrown half of her birthday presents in the lake 鈥 when questioned her answer was 鈥淚t seemed funny鈥. The following year, at nine, she had taken scissors and cut off all of her hair, taking it from just past her buttocks to a wispy mop that barely covered her ears. Again, she was questioned by the nannies and the tutors: Why? 鈥淚t seemed funny鈥. And with a laugh, she was off, never to worry about the snips of platinum locks that lay on the bathroom floor. Things that happened rarely troubled her: arguments could be forgotten, grudges never held, apologies always easy to give away. There was only one thing she could never master, however: the one rule she could never break no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how hard she tried: the walls.

    The walls around the Drozdov estate became her darkest, deepest enemy. Every day, every week she would spend the largest amount of her time in the acres of land, stretching her fingers along where the walls raised up high in the sky. The tips of her nails bumped along them, like a prisoner clinging to hope of an outside world. She would watch blackbirds, as they had done so in year youngest days, fly over the walls and up and away. Hmph, Drozd indeed, she would grumble and return to her wandering; tracing the shapes of brick and mortar that kept her locked away from the world. This ritual of steps became her life, and led to the dissection of the Drozdov land as a whole: she knew every yard and every step off by heart 鈥 could have done it blindfolded, if she鈥檇 tried. Bare feet squelched through mud or glossed between dew-dropped flowers, scraped knees and bruises shins pushing between bundles of grass. It was in her prison that she befriended her fellow inmates. Some small: rabbits, squirrels, foxes. Some larger, like deer. Some magical, too. The animals became the thread that drew her away from the walls, that pulled her attentions to something other than the world outside. She would leave them food, or feed certain friendlier creatures by the hand; earn their trust and learn their ways. The animals were her loved ones just like her siblings and oftentimes became her escape. After all, these creatures would likely run away if they could, too.

    When time came to fly away from the walls, she could barely believe her luck. Koldovstoretz had, admittedly, been nothing special; and it lacked the comfort of her old home in most cases, but it gave the young rebel Drozdova the freedom she had so craved in her younger years. Friendship was wonderful, flirting was even better. Margo鈥檚 teenage became ripened with a brand new hobby called 鈥渉ow many people can I kiss today?鈥. A reputation was built, but she paid it no mind: she was happy, so what did it matter? Especially considering the idea of an engagement: quickly tossed aside in her mind. After all, some young man from a family she鈥檇 barely heard of from Scoltand? Halfway across the world? She cared little for the idea of being tied up, and the idea of a fianc茅 was simply another prison for her to break. Years of tutors in anything she could have dreamed as a child, and the wonderful ability to somehow slide through on good grades without having to try much made Margo鈥檚 life in Koldovstoretz a dream. Pretty girls wandered in and out of her life at will 鈥 boys too, but not nearly as much 鈥 and she began a fun hobby of adopting anything furry, feathered, scaled or in-between as her own. It seemed that every term she returned to the Drozdov estate she brought back with her something else new to set free amongst the estate grounds. Something else to feed, to cuddle, to train. Perhaps it was practice for meeting her fianc茅- something else to train.

    She had never expected to meet him so quickly, however.

    It seemed over in a blur. Aurors arrived at Koldovstoretz, asking to speak to her and her sisters privately, one by one. She, as did the others, remained silent in the face of the questions they asked. She had no place in messing with her father鈥檚 affairs. Margo was by no means a fool: she had heard the rumours. People who arrived at the estate and never came out, of experiments. She had spent her days in the gardens, getting messy and collecting bugs from under rotten tree trunks. Whatever had happened other than that did not affect her: she simply moved on in her life whilst ignoring the whispers. It had seemed more suspicious still when their father had moved the girls to Scotland, 鈥淭o be with Grisha鈥, he had said. Hogwarts, the new school, was a new start: she hadn鈥檛 particularly cared much about a new start, as her old life had been perfectly fine; but a new world of pretty people to fawn over and her darling brother being much closer than he had been before was a fine trade for the Russia she left behind.

    The move to Scotland did, however, bring a new hurdle into her life in the form of her husband-to-be. The Lithgows held a certain unpleasant reputation, although nothing akin to the rumours surrounding her own family, and the boy seemed pleasant enough. Whilst still allowing herself the pleasure of lying with some stranger every now and then, Margo had found a friend and, truly, she was glad to be back with her brother.


The Sorting Hat is placed on your head. What are you thinking at that moment?:
    "a hat decides who we live our entire school life with? that seems potentially disastrous... i love it!"

Special Request (available at Novice**)
    non merci (not yet at least)

OOC Name:
    evian ewan evan

Your Pronouns:
    he him

How did you find out about Wizarding Realm?
    whats wizarding realm

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Stells Artois16 6thViridian GuildPureblood5'11
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Jan 6 2018, 04:33 PM   Link Quote
the sorting hat is placed on your head, and after a few moments, it loudly calls out ...

\"HUFFLEPUFF!\"

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