Under-Construction. I have not cleaned up typos. :P Read at your own risk <3
20th of June, 2009
Pureblood (Believes she's halfblood)
Relationship with Lysander Diaval
|Also known as||
Edie, Edie P., Mischievous E
"Possibly the worst Ravenclaw ever in Hogwarts History"
Blonde, straight and long
White, tan with freckles
Abram Petrovski (Father) Elizabeta Valevach-Petrovski (Mother)
The Unspeakable Horror
Beech, Phoenix Feather, 10.75 inches
Her besties <3
"Some scars are within, and you can't see them. You can feel them though, like barbed wire rubbing on the underside of your skin, reminding you of the horrible things you've seen, or despicable things you've done. They remind you, that you're not perfect. That you have secrets that stain your soul. I've gotten used to my scars though. They make me who I am." -- Edie Petrovski.
"Wanna get out of here?" Five words from moving lips without a voice. Five words that are so simple and, yet, these five words coming from Edie Petrovski, will forever change your life.
The Zolotov Curse
In the late 1700’s the Zolotov’s were once an ancient, prominent, and powerful family in the wizarding world, whose public dealings were primarily with the Russian Ministry of Magic shortly after its inception. However, the majority of the Slytherin-like family illegally sold and traded dark artifacts, while working under the disguise of government officials. In fact, the Zolotov family were notorious for their support and practice of the dark arts, having built a fiercely wicked and fearful reputation, which for some time, was publically acceptable due their military role in society. Those Zolotov’s who did not seek official positions where enlisted in the family army that was often times employed by The Russian Ministry of Magic to fight many battles, slay monsters by using monsters, and protect the peace. Thus, these practices that were nebulous in nature, were under the strict supervision of the Russian Ministry of Magic, and used as very, very last resorts.
Many of the transgressions and corruption of the Zolotov ’s were painfully ignored at the expense of the general public. In cryptic allies, dark corners, and underground passes, they slowly built legion wizards and witches, weaving through the population like the hyphae of an insidious mold. And, with power comes greed, and with greed comes disloyalty. Influenced by a desire to take over the wizarding world, starting with Russia, of course, the Zolotov family and followers were on the brink of starting a wizarding civil war. Their mission was the removal the veil of secrecy of the muggle world, and the downfall of the Russian Ministry of Magic to begin The Dark Regime, were the use of the dark arts was no longer tabboo. That is, until the war started when the current Russian Minister for Magic, Leszek Gurkin, was assassinated and several other officials murdered at a ball. Rasputin Zolotov, the patriarch of the family and leader of The Dark Regime, attempted to over throw the Russian Ministry of Magic in early 1762 in a battle that took nearly 3 years to conclude due to the amount of espionage, and covert infiltration of the Zolotov family and contacts. Defeat came on January 15, 1765 with the capture and prompt killing of Rasputin Zolotov, who’s beheaded body hung as a symbol in front of The Ministry of Magic’s building until spring. It is said that the embers of destruction were seeds that influenced the corruption of many highly influenced and curious wizards in the future.
Because the Russian wizarding society suffered such losses, and were starting to regain peace, many could not trust the Zolotov family for their transgressions. Many Zolotov ’s were sentenced to life sentences in Azkaban, thanks to the British Ministry of Magic’s cooperation. Those family and friends who were ancillary to the war (spouses, and children) were trialed and sentenced to a different punishment despite their seeming innocence. After all, Zolotov’s are never what they seem. Banished to the most northern point of Russia, on an barren island made of savage snow and trees, called Wrangle Island, the Zolotov family and those families linked to their efforts (Kudryavtsev and Nizienko) were thereafter stripped of their money, influence, and comforts. The Russian Ministry of Magic also forbade their use of dark magic and made it mandatory that each birth of a Zolotov be registered, and every child marked, for it’s said that the influences of dark magic is woven into their genetics. Once a Zolotov, always a Zolotov. Because of their incorrigible, and unrecoverable reputation, the Zolotov family has expanded through the frown upon practice of inbreeding, thus preserving their pureblood lineage.
For the most part, Zolotov’s are bound by magic to the island, except for a few days in November were they can step foot on other soil. The caviot to their inprisonment is that they are allowed to live upon vessels that float on the sea, thus many Zolotov's (especially the menfolk) choose to remain at sea as fishermen or pirates. The waters surroundering Wrangle Island are a "No Go" zone, for the "evil" and "debased" Zolotov Pirates may sink your ship and steal your wares. Many ships, both magical and not, avoid the seas north of Russia, as the Zolotov pirates are known to be the worst, most dispicable bunch to come across. There are also times when a Zolotov woman will lure a handsome, but foolish wizard back to Wrangle island, for him never to return from whence he came. Because of the near gypsy like life the Zolotov ’s have created for themselves on Wrangle Island, and the tales of people and ships entering and never leaving, many people call these manifestations the Zolotov Curse.
The Disappearing Act
Abram Zolotov (date of birth), was born many generations later on Wrangle Island to Dmitriy and Nadine Zolotov. He was the youngest of six siblings which consisted of 3 boys and 3 girls (Verochka, Ilya, Osip, Irinushka, Esfir). Abram was raised at sea with his father and brother’s working as a fisherman, which was an important business that helped to supply Wrangle Island with food. Three Zolotov fractions were formed on Wrangle Island including the fishermen, the pirates, and the mainlanders. Those Zolotov families who worked as fishermen were considered of higher status compared other Wrangle Island citizens due to having a monopoly on the food and trade market for the island. Therefore, Abram received an informal education until he was 15 years of age, and then began working for his father’s business. It was during these travels on the open sea, he saw the world beyond the frigid cold of the island where he grew up. Due to their family’s eternal imprisonment, he was never permitted to step foot on the beautiful islands and cities that he saw from afar. Those in the wizarding world who dealt with Zolotov fishermen in trade treated them poorly and with apprehension, referring to Zolotov’s with slights, mocking names, and unfair wages. Despite being at the top of the hierarchy at Wrangle Island, Abram learned that the Zolotov’s were the very pit and sludge of the wizarding world.
Eventually, Abram became restless for a new life and better opportunities. He wanted to break the monotonous way of life, established by generations of exile, and thirsted for freedom. By the age of 18, Abram wanted nothing more than to leave the Zolotov life and Wrangle Island behind. One night in November, during the time when the Zolotov curse was lifted, Abram faked his death by falling off his father’s ship during a capricious, and equally dangerous, storm. Abram swam to shore. By the law of the curse, he had 3 nights of freedom. He frantically searched for help, and, by what some may call “sheer luck,” Abram was able to find a highly skilled, underground witch who was brave enough to attempt to lift the curse. Unfortunately, the curse could not be lifted, disbanded, or broken. But, the curse could be subdued. The witch, along with Abram, were able to make him appear as if he were a muggle, stripping him of the use of his magic, but allowing him to remain on mainland. Only, he had to wear a simple, gold band on his left hand at all times, save for those 3 nights in November. After the 4th day of remaining on mainland and there were no repercussions from him staying, he renamed himself Abram Petrovski, vowing to take his Zolotov secret to his grave. The Zolotov marking on the upper part of his forearm was disguised by a tattoo. After all, muggle authorities would never think to activate it to figure out his identity.
The new Abram Petrovski struggled to fit into muggle society at first. Cars, planes, phones, and television where alien and foreign to him. However, he was a resourceful young man and made his way to Moscow where was able to find errand-boy work for the Russian Mafia. Gaining favoritism from its higher soldiers was easy since he was familiar with mafia’s hierarchy that reminded him of his ancestor’s organization. Abram was able to quickly rise in rank. He was able to live a life beyond his dreams, with cars, and planes, phones, and women. And, he was not afraid to commit murder or harm those in his way, despite how quiet-natured and calmed he seemed. Some say this is the violent effect of Zolotov blood, and though it was quelled, it was not entirely eradicated. Abram, as described by those who knew him, was considered a cold, calculating kind of handsome, with a closet full of secrets and mystery that shrouded him.
As for his family left behind on Wrangle Island, they held a funeral for their son, lost as sea. For even if he found land, he’d surely die an unfortunate death.
The Moon to His Stars
Elizabeta Marie Valevach (birth dates) was born to Lidija and Aramazd Valevach a prominent, and popular family in the Russian wizarding world. The Valevach family were heavily woven into political careers in the Russian Ministry of Magic many years later, with most in the sect maintaining upright, and legal career paths. Elizabeta was the middle child of three children (Edik and Vlassi), and was raised with nearly the best of everything. From private witch lessons, to the latest trends, and best wands and broomsticks, she lived a life of luxury and abundance. She was raised strictly in the wizarding world and when she became of age, she attended Koldovstoretz and excelled in potions, even winning the Wizarding Schools Potions Championships twice.
There’s something to be said about living a perfect life, and that’s it becomes perfectly boring after a while. Once Elizabeta graduated from Koldovsteretz, she moved home and was instantly paraded about by her mother, looking for marriage prospects. Elizabeta wanted to open a small potions shop, but instead, her mother insisted that she follow the steps of her father, who was the current Russian Minister for Magic. At the rebellious, yet mature age of 23, suffocated by the rules and regulations of her life, and feeling imprisoned by the Valevach name, Elizabeta started to sneak into the muggle world for a bit of fun.
It was during these trips to the other world that Elizabeta met the handsome, cold, calculating, and reserved Abram Petrovski (now age 31), whom she believed was a muggle. They met at a club in Moscow, and before long were smitten with one another. Abram Petrovski was a powerful man for his age at that time, becoming one of the youngest Russian Oligarchs dealing in online espionage, uranium, and mafia activities. Despite his bad boy demeanor and reputation, Elizabeta fell in love with him and the exciting danger of their life. Sadly, as most stories go, their love was not accepted by the Valevach family. Though they were seemingly progressive and upholding citizens, many secretly frowned upon intermingling with muggles, tainting the pureness of their magical bloodline. Elizabeta was cast from her family, disowned, and severed from the life she once knew, of course.
Abram and Elizabeta were married on (insert date), shortly after Elizabeta’s confession to her family. Rumors say that Abram adored Elizabeta, and that she was the soft side of his blade, the beating of rock-cold heart, and the moon to his stars. Though Abram’s love for Elizabeta was insurmountable, he still kept his Zolotov heritage a secret, leading her to believe until her death that he was a muggle.
The Garden of Eden
The Apple Never Falls...
After 6 months of marriage bliss, the couple conceived a baby girl. Eden Valery Petrovski was born the 1st of February, 2009 in her home located in a small town, supported by many Russian oligarchs, outside of Moscow. Her earliest memories consist of her mother dancing between lace curtains in beams of sunlight and her father's dark eyes, olive skin, and black hair, wrapping his arms this magical woman as classical music filled their home. Her memories are ripe with beautiful parties, luxurious cars, and extravagant family trips. But as Eden grew older and became more aware of her surroundings, she started realizing that something wasn’t “right” with her father’s business. Elizabeta and Eden lived under strict protocols and rules that prohibited their entry into certain parts of their home, socialization with certain individuals, and constant surveillance. Strange men came to visit her father and there were times when he’d come home with rumpled clothing, a fleet of footmen pacing their home with guns visible by their sides.
Eden only remembers seeing her father fearful one time, and one time alone. Maps of Russia and the world were prominate decorating pieces within the home, for they were necessary for Eden's home schooling. Her entire house was filled with tools and items to foster her education, from books on plants to skeleton models of the human body. One evening while spending time with her parents, Eden played with a giant globe, spinning, and spinning it until her finger landed on Wrangle Island. Something from deep within her woke, and a desire to visit the island grew so immense that Eden's fascination worried her father. She obsessed about Wrangle Island for weeks. Dreamed about it, and would relentleslly ask her father questions, or make demands.
"I want to go there. I must go there," Eden had said, unable to explain this unnatural need to leave her home at such a young age.
"You can't go, Eden. It doesn't really exist," her father explained, his facial hair graying as well as his dark eyes from worry. Bags sagged the flesh beneath them -- he hadn't slept for days. If Eden were ever to step foot on Wrangle Island, she'd never be able to leave, activating the Zolotov Curse.
"But, it's on the map. It's on all the maps, papa."
That was when all the world maps, and globes, were removed from the home. Eden's education on geography was limited.
Elizabeta seemed to understand the need for such protection and shared the truth of her magical abilities with Abram to ease his anxiety regarding her and Eden’s safety. Abram, on the other hand, was fearful that his magical turbulent past may come to haunt him, and insisted on raising Eden as a muggle, forbidding the use of magic in the household. Never in Elizabeta's wildest dreams, would she have predicted that she married a Zolotov, one of the tragically cursed. She assumed that her husband was scared of magic and wanted to protect his daughter, therefore she agreed to raising Eden in such a fashion, rarely using magic herself. Instead, Elizabeta told Eden stories of magic, and wands, and moving photographs, and spells. Eden loved these stories, and truly believed her mother was a fairy in another life, trusting that magic was real and not so much a fable. Abram remained fiercely protective of his family until one night, he could protect them no longer.
The Night of Unspeakable Horrors
The night in November that changed the Petrovski’s life forever started unremarkably in many ways. The cold was its typical blistering, the stars were bright, and the town nestled into a fog that blanketed the street lights. Families were tucked away in their beautiful homes, protected by all the luxuries money could buy. Untouchable. Infaliable. They were near to royalty in Russian society. Fuming chimneys of dark smoke created dusky clouds that smelled of cedar and pine – a woodsy, peppery scent that always made Eden sneeze.
She was 8 years of age on this particular monotonous night -- old enough to know where she was not allowed to venture in her own home, but young enough to not fully understand the repercussions of disobeying these restrictions. Old enough to know the dangers her father tried to hide, but young enough to let her curiosity get the best of her. She liked sleeping with her window open, however on this very eve the peppery scent that made her sneeze woke her. After closing her window, she heard it.
A barbarous, inhuman howl shook the house, rising from its bowels through the floor boards and into Eden’s ears. Never a fearful child, more bullheaded and carless according to her mother, Eden snuck from her bedroom to investigate the source of the noise. Bare feet against the cold floor. A gust of wind clipped her naked arms and night gown from a broken window. The house shook again.
The otherworldly sound of agony scared Eden, who cowered on the steps behind the wooden banisters that created bars of safety. The door leading to the cellar of their home physically shook, nearly off its hinges. An earie smoke the color of an acrid, green slime heaved in puffs from beneath it with yellow light spilling from its cracks. When Eden finally worked up the courage to run back upstairs to wake her father, she saw him burst through the door. His face was laden with so much fear and panic that his olive skin had paled, and his hair turned completely white. Sweat soaked through his shirt, and his red face looked as if he were petrified.
“Papa!” Eden had shouted, both excited and worried to see her father. She’d jumped up from behind the stairs to run to him.
“Eden. Go upstairs. Go to your room and lock your door,” her father had demanded in a hoarse, cruel tone that she’d never heard before. He grabbed his leather coat and hat, rushing out of the house with a loud bang of the back door. His motorcyle tore through the driveway, kicking dirt and smog behind it.
This is the part where we discuss the repercussions of going places little girls ought not be and how curiosity killed the cat. The noises and sound of breaking and crashing ceased for some time creating an illusion for Eden that all was well. A little peek at what her father was doing wouldn’t hurt anyone. Would it? And, instead of doing as she was told, Eden crept down the stairs and turned the brass handle of the door to the cellar.
Past the frigid, uneven cement stares, through a musty wine cellar, and behind dusty storage room, there was another room where something was moving. The tiniest, softest voice begged for her help.
"Help me," it had said, whimpering in a voice similar to her own. "I'm trapped, please help me. Open the door."
Unable to leave someone prisoner, and eager to help her afther, Eden did as she was told. Behind a heavy silver door that she had to muster all her strength to open, a caliginous, smoke swirled and moved in seamless circles that snapped like broken bones. Beneath the cryptic mass was a noir oil or slime that dripped from the tips of its mist, and it seemed to reach for her like the tentacles of an octopus. And, from within the swirling tapestries of evil, a pair of piercing blue, glowing eyes appeared, with blood dripping from their core. And the blood, turned black when it touched the ground, spilling from the door frame as if stretching its arms.
“Where’s Abram,” it asked in a low, gargling voice that sounded like animals dying, tortured and maimed, and not the little girl it had pretended to be.
Frozen in fear, unable to grasp what she was seeing, Eden responded. She stumbled back. “He rushed out. He grabbed his coat, and his hat, and rushed out. Where's the little girl?” she foolishly asked.
“Ah… so he’s getting what I neeeeeeed.” It seemed to purr, only it mimicked distant thunder, and it’s whirling, swirling calmed so that it was mostly a dripping puff that floated above the floor. It extended a wisp of smoke that formed a finger, and it curled under Eden’s chin. “Zolotov…”
“Zolabov?” Eden asked, still shaken. She slowly backed away from the monster, with it’s bleeding eyes, and suffocating scent of death.
“Come clossssssser, little girl,” it hissed, as more threads of smoke reached out to grab her, "I want to taste you." The ink on the floor crept to her feet beyond the door frame, sliding between her toes, creating a sticky tacky substance that made it difficult for her to move. The hands of smoke created by the monster pulled her closer, and closer still, weaving through her hair, and beneath her nightgown. “Too bad, Zolotov won’t do, but just a taste...”
Frightened, but not in shock, Eden managed to break free before the monster got complete hold of her. And, instead of closing the heavy metal door behind her, or the door to the cellar, she ran as quick as her tiny feet would let her. She ran, leaving behing the sticky trail of slimy footprints, up to her mother's room where she tried to wake her. The Unspeakable Horror followed Eden, where her mother, Elizabeta, was brutally killed trying to save her daughter. Having abandoned the use of magic for many years Elizabeta's fight was herotic, but not enough. Eden was spared, but not left unmarred.The monster streamed into her open, crying mouth, damaging her vocal chords, so that she could never speak of the night or what she’d seen.
There are some evils that words cannot even express, some wickeds that should never be verbally described.
Then the Unspeakable Horror crept through their neighborhood like a sluggish, lethal plague, that feasted on the lives of all the children and their mother’s in their sleep.
One by one, the lights of every house turned on. One by one, the cries of the husbands and father’s left behind filled the clear night. Eden couldn’t feel the cold anymore. She couldn’t see the stars. And the smoke, that once filled the air with a peppery scent, was no longer a bother, because she could barely breath, nearly on the brink of death. As it turned out, that very night was remarkable in many ways, and Abram Petrovski found himself to blame.
The Quiet After the Storm
Unfortunately, Abram’s disappearance from Wrangle Island, and the muting of the Zolotov curse was not as easy as it originally seemed. On the first-year anniversary of his new life, during the 3 nights of Zolotov freedom, he woke to a noise of something in the room with him. It was a the tiniest, speck of black darkness that dripped a single drop of ink beneath it. It made no words, and barely any sound back then, pooling in the palm of his hand the size of a pea. When he tried to flush it, it returned. He tried to kill it to no avail. Every November, during the 3 nights of Zolotov freedom, it appeared, making its demands. And over the years, the dark mass grew, learning how to speak. One year it requested one thing, and that was the blood child, to be sacrificed in order for him to remain a muggle and free from Wrangle Island. Fearful of the consquence, Abram complied. Every year thereafter it asked for more blood each time growing larger, more rowdy and violent. Unknowing what to do with it, he created a secret room in his home, blocked by an enchanted door and barrier that would not allow the monster to cross, but trapped it there during the 3 nights of freedom. The only people allowed to open this door would be those with Zolotov blood, and considering he was the only one who knew of the door, the flaw in the spell-work didn’t seem to matter at the time.
Not only was a monster brewing and cultivating under Abram’s watch, he began to use dark magic on the 3 nights a year of his freedom, to try to keep it at bay, resealing the door. And, he unwittingly used dark magic to help his business, casting spells and trickery on his foes, thus encouraging his darkest secret to grow larger, and larger still. Until, one eve, the monster he’d been hiding in his very home, and prisoner of, requested that he bring a child.
“I waaaaaant a live one,” it grumbled as it whirled and swirled, dripping ink up and down the walls of the room it was outgrowing. “I want it to be fat with moving legs, and arms, and a nice biiiiiiig brain.”
“I won’t. I can’t do it,” Abram said, using his wand to hold the beast back in its room, trying to keep it from spilling over the barrier. “If I’ve got to kill you myself, and die, I won’t sacrifice a child.” For he’d gotten away with stealing ample amount of blood from children, leaving them fatigued and relatively unharmed. But a living child for consumption was preposterous.
“I neeeeeeed to eat a live one, Abram. I waaaaant it. I waaaaaant it,” the monster protested, banging itself into the walls hysterically. Wisps of its smoke like tentacles reached past the barrier in fits of anger, knocking over items in the storage room.
Abram fought the beast back for what seemed like hours, barely shutting the door on the creature to contain it for what would be the last time. Fearful of the mess he’d made, Abram left his home as quickly as possible to get help from someone in the wizarding world. There’d have to be someone, anyone, who’d be able to help him, even if it meant being sent to Azkaban, or Wrangle island, away from his wife and child.
Abram did return home with some help, though the wizards and witches he convinced were not of the best moral standards, it was all he could gather in a short period of time. When he returned home, he knew it’d been too late. The entire town looked as if it had been struck with a silent, selective nuclear bomb that wiped out all the women and children. Ambulance and police cars filled the streets as the cries of the community permeated through the night. Abram found his wife dead, and daughter on the brink of death. He fell apart, in the literal sense, as all his secrets finally came to collect their toll.
Eden’s recovery was slow, and she spent many months in the hospital. The damage to vocal chords was not visible, however, every time she tried to speak she felt as if she were being choked. She’d gag, and cough, gasping for air. Words were formed with excruciating amounts of pain, forcing her to not speak at all. As soon as Eden was healed enough to return home, Abram took her to his daughter to Lidija and Aramazd Valevach’s house (her maternal grandparents) to live. There was now a warrant out for his arrest in the wizarding world, for the colossal catastrophe he’d caused. Eden was sent to their door step in the middle of the night, with a note from Abram. Upon first site of Eden, they knew who she was, because the child was a spitting image of her beautiful mother Elizabeta. This was the last Eden saw of her father, before he disappeared into thin air.
As for Eden, she believes until this day that she’s the reason for her mother’s death. That The Unspeakable Evil, was released because she was a terrible child, that did not obey her father. That, because she didn’t close the doors, all the innocent mothers and children in her town died. That, because Eden ran to her mother, Elizabeta lost her life. Eden Petrovski understood why her father wouldn’t want her, yet she mourned him. She mourned them all.
The Magic in E
Eden slipped into a very deep and dark depression after being delivered to live with her grandparents. Perhaps using the word “slipped” isn’t the best description, because it implies that the sadness that overwhelmed her was an accident, when it had been a culmination of deliberate, and uncontrollable situations. She remained in bed for months at a time, crying over the death of her mother and the absence of her father, mourning the life she once had, never to know again. These losses were added to the new world of magic she was introduced to. The senior Valevach couple, Eden’s grandparents, relocated to the UK for “retirement”, hoping to spend a few years with a sick friend of the family. In actuality, they wanted to take Eden from Russian and as far away from Abram as possible. Thus, Eden was tasked with learning English, as well as, learning the intricate and complex culture of the wizarding world. Attending an elementary school for young wizards and witches was overwhelming considering she’d been homeschooled as a child, protectively surrounded by her father’s guards. Thus, the child preferred to remain in bed, to weep.
Because Eden appeared to be a shell of a girl, her grandparents where worried that she might’ve been a squib. Which to these elders, wouldn't have been too farfetched and became their worst fear, an obvious result of Eden’s muggle blood. Life with the Valevach family was difficult, and Eden’s grandmother rarely seemed pleased with her. Lidija, was especially frustrated with Eden, because she was convinced that the girl could speak, and thought Eden was just being stubborn. After all, casting spells and catching up with the curriculum of her new school proved to be… rather difficult and the Valevach’s were accustomed to being the absolute best in everything. Thus, Eden spent most of her time alone, curled on her bed, eyes glued to the window of her bedroom.
But, there was a boy named Elliot Shaw, who’s family worked for the Valevachs, that woke Eden from her slumber. He slowly worked his way into her heart with his charm, wit, and over abundence of fun. They soon became best friends despite her lack of words. In fact, it was almost as if Elliot could read Eden’s thoughts. They were two peas in a pod, living each day to worry, and drive Lidija crazy with pranks. Elliot taught Eden how to smile, to laugh, to play tricks, to run, and play games. He became her safe place. Her person. And, she’d really needed one back then.
One summer day 3 years later, Grandmother Valevach took both Eden and Elliot shopping to buy school supplies. Elliot’s magic had presented itself years before, and he was going to attend school at Durmstrang Institute in the fall, a likely attempt to separate Eden from him. The glee and delight Lidija expressed that day during their shopping spree for a boy she barely liked was sickening, and sad. So, Elliot and Eden ran off for some fun, happy to delay the inevitable. However, it was on their adventure in the town, that they’d run into a group of rowdy, ill-mannered kids that teased Eden at school for her inability to speak and lack of magical abilities. A fight broke out, resulting in Elliot taking a tumble into moving traffic.
Eden was frightened, and felt a warmth in her stomach, a fear that squeezed her heart like the Night of Unspeakable Horrors, and shouted “Move!” at the top of her lungs – a clear, beautiful, and commanding voice that brought the bullies to their knees, the cars that were charging toward Elliot slammed to a stop, nearly crushing those within them and each other, and glass shattered, blowing out gas lights and sizzling electrical lights, creating infinite darkness. There were casualties that night, however Elliot was safe. And, Eden vowed never to speak again, fearful of the power her voice might have. When Eden’s grandmother arrived at the scene, she was shocked and relieved at Eden’s showing of magic. Her treatment of Eden changed soon after an owl delivered a letter and she was immediately enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – a place her father Abram Petrovoski would not think to look for her.
Him & I: Lysander Diaval (2025 - )
"Wanna go ice-skating?" she asked him at the start of the semester. This boy who always sat by himself in the great hall, cloaked in shadows and mourning. He never smiled. He barely moved. Much like a statue he sat timelessly as people blurred by him. Edie wasn't sure exactly what prompted her to ask him to go with her. "Wanna get out of here?" she whispered to him at the Yule Ball, after dancing for hours on the balls of her feet, high off euphoria and his touch. "I love you," he said after Hearty Party. Three words that melted her core and pulled her heart further toward him. Now she's swimming in the ink colored pools of his eyes, soaking her wings, landlocked in his embrace. "I love you, too."
Years 1 - 4 (NPC)
Year 5 (2024 - 2025)
Eden has pale porcelain smooth skin that easily tans in the summer months. Often times she returns to Hogwarts with a caramel, candy colored hue, and seemingly, even more freckles than she cares for. She’s got a freckle infection, and they are literally everywhere on her. Everywhere (to her greatest annoyance). Her extremely long, blond hair is typically tangled and somewhat frizzy around the edges, thus she keeps it up in a ponytail, or braided in some fashion. Her dark hazel eyes are murky, and her plush, syrup covered lips look edible. But, be warned. Eden is quite… tart, for lack of a better word to describe her. She’s of medium height for her age, with a body that’s fairly unremarkable, and probably not desired by the opposite sex. Not that she minds at all.
Because she cannot speak, or refueses to because she’s scared of it’s power or the pain, Eden expresses herself in her clothing. She can be seen wearing pairs of golden wings to special events and functions. Otherwise, she’s very fashionably dressed in the latest muggle trends (one of her favorite subjects). She is also usually dressed in her house colors of blue, gray, white, bronze, or yellow, so that students cannot mistake her for anything, but an Eagle.
Eden’s personality is sculpted by her life’s experiences. She loves to have fun and adventures (as taught by Elliot), and is a generally jovial and happy person. In fact, she can appear to be down right goofy and silly. She’s friendly with most people, and loves to tease and pick fun at her friends. However, she’s got her secrets and her own haunts that she hasn’t shared with anyone. Because of the seriousness of her past, and the guilt she carries, Eden overcompensates with trying to stay happy, ensuring everything she does is of some type of amusement to herself, sometimes at the expense of those around her. She can be often times misunderstood as a mute. She smiles often, but maybe she’s not really smiling. Maybe, she’s thinking the dirtiest, nastiest things about someone, which then makes her smile. Eden is full of trickery, plotting, scheming, and collecting secrets, and sometimes has ill intentions, using the guise of her disability to wear a faux halo. This isn’t always the case, and most people rarely know of her duplicitous nature. For the most part, she prefers to be on the peripheral of her group of friends or big crowds, hating to be the center of attention. Why? Because it’s harder to be terrible while in the spotlight. Also, it’s harder to communicate and it's just… frustrating. Eden prefers small groups of 3 people or less.
She keeps most people at a distance. Even her close friends don't really know her. No one really knows her. Perhaps Eden preferrs it this way. It makes life... easier.
However, Eden is very studious, and feels most at home in the library, surrounded by books. She’s fascinated with the Dark Arts, and researching her father, as well as The Unspeakable Evil she’d witnessed as a younger child. Thus, she appears to be a bookworm, diligent in completing her homework, and passing most of paper examinations. The paper most is emphasized, because casting spells verbally has been quite a chore, and difficult task. She’s endured the mind splitting pain of speaking, just enough to pass, but sometimes her finicky beech wand makes that nearly impossible.
Oh, and Eden loves to dance, even if she's a bit terrible at it. She'll dance on her own. She doesn't need anyone in her zone. :P
Eden’s abilities are few and far between. Her lack of speech makes wielding magic really difficult. Thus, when most students are inclined to use magic to solve problems, Eden tends to go about things the “muggle” way. Which, in essence, is very well with her, because she was raised as a muggle for half of her short life. This isn’t to say that she’s not excited for when she can start casting non-verbal spells. It will make communicating with her finicky beech wand so much easier.
- Rylan Worthington
- Ahreum Song
- Imogen Cornelia Featherstone
- Charlotte "Charlie" Merle
- Jinyoung So
- Rowena Magnusson
- Lysander Diaval
- Caryxander Mordushku (Literal partner in crime)
- Otter & Denna Glaus
- Nadia Knight
- ..... tbc
Fifth Year - Fall Semester
- "Frozen" - Sabrina Claudio
- "Lights" - Lo & NOVAA
- "Filthy Rich" - Evalyn
- "Kicks" - Au/Ra
- "ET" - WENS
- "Smoke Too Much" - JOY.
- "Something New" - Tokio Hotel
- Fasion Queue: http://mischiefmanagedsl.net/2017/11/fashion-queue/
Out of Character (OOC)
Hi there! I'm open for roleplaying, and I have simple rules which are listed below. I love drama. I love heartbreak. I love scenes that can make me feel something. I'm easily annoyed by perfect, sweet, angelic characters with no flaws that never do anything wrong. I want to do everything wrong, and figure out how to fix it. I love story telling, but I don't like being the only person who's doing it. So, share your ideas with me and let's brainstorm things! I'm also not one to plan a scene to precision -- I like seeing where things goes and being spontaneous. <3
Writing Style: Obviously, I enjoy writing. Please don't be intimidated by this wikia page. I'll match what I'm given. If you like paragraphs, I can do that as long as there's something worth writing a pargraph about. If you like simple lines and more dialogue, I can do that too. :) I will not write three whole paragraphs of nothing, because I like story progression. ~.^
Availability: Mostly weekends. Some week nights. Feel free to leave me a notecard or IM me to see if I'm free. I also don't mind making play dates.
- No killing my character without permission
- No metagaming (or reading her thoughts and acting on them)
- Feel free to hurt or harm my character, however I will not accept permanent damage unless its agreed on (and makes the story delicious)
- Be nice about my typos. My fingers are small, and fast, and don't like to press all the keys. LOL Or sometimes, my brain types entirely the wrong words, because my hands are faster than my brain :P If you're confused by something I've written, or I got a scene wrong, just poke me. I'll fix it!