Post by Laresa Midral Konihova on May 12, 2007 16:29:05 GMT -5
Name: Laresa Midral Konihova
Age: Seventeen
Gender: Gender
Bloodline: with blood so P U R E
-**Heritage blood;;russian|french|british|
Year: Seventh
House:slytherin[/color]
Personality: Laresa holds a sort of Cold exellence about her being. Her words seem to make any intelectual seem quite a dunce. Her compousure is calm and collected, rarely does she let such bottled emotions loose. She's a young woman who knows what she wants, and will use /any/ means to get to said goal. It would seem...She will do great things when she gets older, yet, be it benevolent or spiteful, only fate knows.
Although some would end up hating the young woman, she does have a sort of longing of kindness, and if ever shown to her, you would find she would soften up to whoever did so. Yet in her bottled ferver, spawns her weakness. Yet in some cases she tends to ignore the fact. Her past is twisted and in turn disturbing the young woman with memories of a cold night of her past, Putting her in a tense mood in most instances, although she rarely shows it, it can still be discerned in her eyes, which hold hints of her bottled sentiment.
Her continuing lust for power will get her far in life, get her up with the good people, The powerful, the bad. She has an inexplicable talent for magic, yet uses it for all the wrong reasons. She is power hungry, yet it seems this may be her downfall, wherever it might end. . It seems she may hold some kindness in the very pit of her heart, yet it is rarley seen, Dubbing herself as such. The Black Heart.
((Tis horrible, Yet I think I'm done.))
Appearance: Laresa, Now where to start. Laresa sports a slender build, slightly muscular and fit, yet there is an agile, almost fluid grace about her movements. Straight, Pale brown hair falls a little longer then her shoulders. Slightly natural tan skin pairs off with her brunette locks, pairing quite elegant in a sense of unity of whole. Her skin is smooth like melted caramel and you get lost in the silky softness it implements. A scar about the size of your pinky stretches across her left shoulder and upon her right palm there is a small scar, pale and white that runs about an inch and half long, Yet the cause of the scar she seems not to like to speak freely about, To any one in that matter.
Her lips are full and soft yet she hardly wears anything on them, other than occassionally gloss, and a small amount of mascara on her lashes. She doesn't need makeup, to look attractive. She stands about 5'6 yet one of her other, more captivating features is her eyes. They are an endless cortex of green, a captivating chasm that as soon as you look into her eyes, you get caught in the pull of their beauty. To explain her eyes a bit more, not color. Yet, their. A Pull much like dragon fear; Looking into her eyes, you could see a world without time. Every second a millennium, and every year a lifetime. You would find yourself stuck, looking into her eyes. Unable, no matter how much your muscles screamed, to pull away from her emerald stare. Emerald cortexes of green wrap about the pupil yet lime embers seemed to burn endlessly about the black islands of her eyes. Yet, her black heart has her use her beauty to somewhat of an advantage. She is slightly shorter then norm, yet still a good height for a seventh year.
Her face is an oval shape, curving off to a slightly pointed chin yet her features are soft and refined. Her nose is slightly long with a rounded tip. Her strange green eyes sit lightly upon her face in which they hold a slight almond shape. Her cheek bones, to say at the least are slightly gaunt, yet, If she ever had smiled, you would find flesh would fill that bony gap with a cheeky radiance. Her jaw line is proud and pronounced, chiseled and refined as if always taught. ((bleck, that was bad
Tis old and I'm to lazy and busy to remake just yet)) 
celebrity portrayal: Adriana Lima
History: Laresa was born into a rich, powerful family. Both her parents spoiling their little girl. They loved her for her beauty, her smarts, her power...She was perfect daughter. On her 6th birthday her mum had taken her out for dinner having a lovely surprise waiting for her at home, yet. The dark streets of the city, Is no place for two females to walk. A thief came up, wanting her jeweler, having a gun pointed at Laresa, a knife in his other hand. Her mother reacted reaching for her wand yet it was too late, gun shots rang through the air and her mother lay on the ground, Green eyes lifeless. Laresa leapt forward in a fury of tears, the thief turned, slicing her right palm, he grabbed a pouch of gold and silver coins the woman had dropped and ran. Meanwhile, Laresa lay upon her mother, her hand bleeding profusely. That day, is when her heart Truly started to blacken.
Laresa lived in France with her father, growing older and more feral by the day. She attended the school of Beauxbatons yet a little after her second year, about two months in, she transferred. Well, her father really, to London. So it was then she began to attend the school of Hogwarts for witchcraft and wizardry. It seems her cold heart had finally found a place (slytherin) where she could truly fit in. And perhaps...Perhaps that would open the door, to another group, one where she could truly build her power, revenge, and that growing sensation for more power that she had to have.
In her years in Hogwarts and London, the dark deeds of otherswere more to her knowledge. Nams were whispered, as if the very mention might bring about their doom. Laresa respected this power, that this seemed to bring about, and it was then, that her interest peeked. For long years she researched and listened, learning as much as she could until her mind could unearth no more. Every waking day she wished for his return, wish to dissipate the very plague of muggles, mudbloods and the pestilence that rotted this world. In her Second year she moved to London, and her in Britain this became reality, and she really put to work, staying in shadows, and out of the way, until it was her time to strike.
And now in her seventh year it seems times are turning for the better, and as the enemy weakens, hides, and grovels at the might that has arisen, it is now time to strike, strike out from her shadow enclose, and into the world of a real darkness.
MISCELLANEOUS
likes:
[/ul]boggart:
parents:Mother-[/color]-Sesring Konihova--Deceast.
Father--Arthion Konihova--Alive//His relationship is not the best with his daughter. Part of him believes it was Laresa's fault his wife died. He never speaks out about it, and still treats her fairly. Yet anyone who is truly observant can see the mutual seperation between them
wand:Laresa's wand is made from Ebony wood, with in intricate vine design along the length of the delicatly crafted tool. Runespoor fang is planted at it's core of the wand which is about 11' in length
Family History:Sesring Mihailov was born into a wealthy wizarding family in Russia. When she was fifteen her family moved to Britain, and the young woman began attending Hogwarts. There she met a handsome, aspiring, pureblood slytherin, who, much like her, shared common interests. Arthion, his name was, and quickly the two formed a bond, then love. Well, as close to love as you can get at that young age. As soon as they both were out of hogwarts, they moved into a loft together, and by twenty, Sesring, Now Konihova, was pregnant with a child. At this aspiring news, Arthion and Sesring moved to France, where Arthion had spent part of his childhood in. They established a home there, and eventaully Dear Laresa was born. While their love for their daughter grew strong, their love for each other faltered, and often fights would break out between them. On Laresa's fifth birthday, Arthion left early from their dinner, heading home to await his two joys. Sesring was killed that night, and forever he seems to blame Laresa for the mishap. ALthough some may think he blamed the young child because she was there when it happened, and perhaps if she had never gone out, his wife would still be there. Yet the true reason is that...He loved his daugter more passionatly than his own wife. Now that Sesring was gone...There was no apology or love he could ever show to his lost mate.
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What Genre It Is: The sample post shall be Harry Potter with my character so you know how a general post of mine shall be, the second is Historic Fiction.
Where It's From: I made the post for the purpose of the audition, and the essay was made by me. NOTE: My teacher made NO corrections on it, therefor it is 100% ME
Roleplaying Sample:
Harry Potter;;
The situation;;The student is found lurking about the castle at night. The prefect grabs your arm as you slink down the hallway. He/she demands why you are out after curfew ((Bleh, sorry XP Just a simple situation))
My reply;;Laresa’s head whipped about as her arm was grabbed. The lime embers in her deep pools of emerald seemed to burn fiercely, yet she held a relative calm and retained her composure; Instead of panic, she reacted with a serene tone.
“Out after curfew?” she drawled with a smirk, ripping her arm away from the Prefect’s grasp. Her mind worked quickly with the predicament set before her, and the only sensible thing to do, Lie, in which she was quite apt at doing.
“I think you have me misunderstood, I have just happened to misplace my school bag,” she articulated smoothly without hesitation, sticking her hand inside her robes and grip firmly resting upon the soft ebony wood. How to weave truth into it as well though? “I have a potion’s essay due tomorrow as you might already know” she said quite sarcastically a sneer perching to her lips as if the Prefect had actually caused the trouble. “I think I may have left it in the Potion’s Classroom and was simply going to retrieve it, yet if you have any objections to me going, You may check for me” she drawled, the sneer on her lips growing more. It was a win, win situation either way. If the Prefect did go, He/She would find no bag, yet of course, could make no other assumptions to it. She had weaved the that lie she had lost the bag, so it /may/ be in another location. Even the reporting allegation did nothing to flutter her nerves. This simple lie would most likely work on a professor as well, and if not, She would probably conjure up something as quickly as she had this.
Smiling sweetly, yet slightly over exaggerated she waited for the response from the prefect, one hand resting in her robes, gripping her wand; While the other sat firmly at her slender hip.
And the Narrative...
Corruption of War[/color]
1035 B.C. November 2nd. The Age of War
“Every day, I find us farther and farther apart, and everyday the memory loosens from my mind, becoming nothing more then a forgotten hope, a dying flame in my heart. What became of the man I once knew, no more a boy, but always the one I felt closest too; That I could spill my deepest secrets, and forsake my hidden dreams. It seems War brother, has truly shaped you yet forever I hold hope, for…I must, for it too, has shaped me
~ Aduial Ambar Lómë”
The sky was scorched and dark, as if the very firmament was torn apart, and rotting black blood spilled from its wounds, smearing it self upon the sky. Umber clouds rippled across the once blue heavens, a red haze in the air, as if the earth itself was sending out a symbolization of the blood that had been spilt. The scene below the skies, if one was quite looking for an escape from the horrid feeling, would find no such reprieve, for the grotesque scene was raided upon the land as well. The flattened grasses of the plains held no life, just a trampled golden, dulled in color from the death that had soiled its grounds. Smears of red painted themselves in a misshapen canvas, turning dark as the age of the bereavement had passed.
A woman’s head was thrown back for just a moment as she looked out across the sky, away from the dieing soul below her. Rain fell, landing lightly on her forehead; Aqua blue splashed against fiery red and umber black armor, only to disappear as it slid off, past the flaming orange gems.
She raised her gauntleted hands gripping her sword and plunging it deeper into the chest of the man beneath her, forever ending his pain. The flames of the soldier’s eyes dyed, just as they seemed to flicker themselves in her own dark pools of auburn. Her tanned face held a beauty, and fierceness in it, and for all to behold, as she raised her sword, boots moving quickly as she dodged a spiked flail that flew past her head.
The long, thick eyelashes fluttered as a drop of rain landed near her eye, soaking into the tanned skin in moments. Raven hair slid back as the rain soaked into it, weighing it down past her fiery armor. A figure suddenly caught her vision of sight, a soldier, His tunic gripped by another soldier of the opposing side; yet the flicker in her eyes suggested that this person might have been something much more…To her anyways.
A fierce battle cry rang from her lips as she sprinted through the fields toward the one person, though changed, meant the most to her heart…Her brother. Time seemed to slow as the rain continued to tinker against the armor, which covered her chest, in an odd way. Curves and points seemed like it would cut the skin. It ended, for it wasn't full body armor, with a red tunic inlayed beneath, ending at the bottom of her ribs.
The thick armor continued later at her hips, in the same strange fashion, with gems coming from the skirt plating that jutted from the sides, acting almost as wings, though they were just the edges of the single plates of armor.
A heavy leather flap covered the front of her hips, matching perfectly with the oddly red and black splotched metal. The same fiery gems adorned this, though smaller.
The cruel steel of a sword dug into her brother’s flesh, and that scream, oh the horrible scream. Her own agonized cry intertwined with his as she leapt forward; yet unlike his, Aduial’s was of pain that no sword could induce with more agony. It was the wound pierced to the heart, which sent its deathly pestilence throughout then ripped it self out of the delicate organ, leaving a gash that would leave you alive, yet always feeling lifeless and bare.
Her sword plunged into a vital artery of her brother’s killer, and with one deft swing, her arm muscles tensed and her sword arced back into his side. A horrified, pain stricken scream rang out amidst the clatter of swords and the agonized screams of dieing souls. The heavy end of a maul collided with the woman’s chest and she went sailing through the air, the man who had swung the weapon staggering backwards as he was put off balance. Thrown back by the force, the woman collided with a scraggly tree, one of the dead limps of life still left. There was a loud snap as the fibers broke under the strain, and she landed with a thump. Her head swayed and eyes drooped as she tried to remain conscious, then all was black. If listened closely upon, the gentle flutter of her heart could be heard, faint, weak. Like a dieing bird, trying desperately for freedom yet the inevitability of escape was close to none. There was a small intake of breath, then silence.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
War, a pestilence that rots all lands leaving no victorious champion, even though the illusion is pulled before your eyes. What becomes of the land, of the soldiers who truly fight; Dieing for a cause of an idea not even their own. Perhaps the idea is for peace, for life. Yet all it brings is death, and when you see the horrors it induces, you begin to realize that the many ignorant civilians "have not wanted peace at all; they have wanted to be spared war -- as though the absence of war was the same as peace.” Yet in all, It seems some good comes, for we are liberated from our fleshy prison, and share the fate of the dead soul that was quelled by our hand. Innocence is renewed as all comes in a path of consequence. War, for the better peace, always comes at price, to be lost, and truly forever changed, War.
---“”Quoted War Quote by-Dorothy Thompson ((Like the quote in there, the text quotes is a quote I found. The quote is also higher up then the rest and underlined XD., and I cited it above. With the Thomposon thing.
Please do not roleplay until after you are accepted.
By typing your character's full name below, it shows that you have read the rules and completely understand them. Insert the secret message falling raindrops’ to also prove you have read the entire list of rules.
I, [Laresa Midral Konihova], have read the rules completely and I agree to abide by them at all times. I agree to everything stated before me and I promise not to break the rules.
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