Errin Ailishe

[errinailishe]

ABOUT THE CHARACTER
Name: Errin Rhea Ailishe
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Year: 5th
Celebrity: Anna Friel

Canon or Original? Original

Facial Properties: Errin is neither a hideous gorgon nor an exceptional beauty. While she does have the potential to be either, she tends to stay poised on the safer side of ordinary. Her face is rather square in shape with a strong jaw line and smoothly rounded chin. Her nose is wide at the base. She has round and plump well-defined cheeks with thin lips and a smallish mouth. Her eyes are on the large side, round and a deep, murky green colour. She has thin eyebrows, a large forehead and tiny ears that are usually concealed by hair. Her hair is generally styled the same way; either stick-straight or in large, gentle curls and waves. Her hair is layered, and she has bangs that reach to just her eyebrows. Her hair reaches to her shoulders and is a light brown in colour. Her skin is fair with a light, almost imperceptible dusting of freckles on the apples of both cheeks, reaching toward her ears.

Physique: As a younger child, Errin had always been one of the tallest of her friends. Reaching the middle of her teenage years, she has not much grown and it seems her family’s height deficiency has caught up with her with full force. She stands at a no-longer-whomping five feet and two inches, and remains rather gangly which proves for awkward, and slightly disproportionate limbs. She has a short torso and long legs which, with a pair of heels, might make her appear taller. A whole number of typical, teenage identity crises have made it hard for her to keep most of the muscle tone in her upper arms from rough-housing as a young tomboy. Her arms are covered in a pale dusting of freckles, perhaps a little more abundant than those on her face. Her fingers are long and slender, paired with small palms and her feet are an average size for women, roughly four and a half (British Sizing, of course).

In terms of clothing aside from the uniform, Errin has discovered a great appreciation for knee-length skirts and knee-high boots of all shapes and sizes. She is not afraid to be daring with her wardrobe and doesn’t shy away from strong blasts of solid colours or various prints and/or patterns. She has currently become rather fascinated with the Victorian and Edwardian era and their styles, but most of the modernized versions are too expensive for her to purchase. A lot of her clothing has been found in bazaars or flea markets. As well, she has a penchant for long, dangling, chandelier-like earrings.

Personality: Errin likes to describe herself as an agent of change; a conscious chameleon, if you will. While she makes this sound rather exciting when spewing out dictions of her own life’s philosophy, the reality of this fact is simply: she is one of the most indecisive young women one will ever come across. She has no fear of trying new things, actually, one of her skills might be this absence of apprehension for the unknown, but in spite of this, she offers herself too much choice. She cannot stick with, or focus on, one aspect of anything for too long without finding something else to try. While any old muggle psychiatrist might peg this as a behavioral disorder curable with but a mundane prescription, Madame Ailishe cannot fall under the A.D.D. category considering, as mentioned earlier, the quick changes are conscious goings on.

There are plenty of positives to such open-mindedness, of course, such as the talent of easing into anything, be it an activity, style or frame of thought. She has certainly become a Jane of All Trades, if you will, which can definitely come in handy in a various number of situations. She has acquired the almost uncanny ability to see all sides of one story, albeit she can never quite weigh one side against the other effectively due to her complete disregard for decision making. While this awkward skill can be, at times, excruciatingly frustrating, it is most definitely an asset when faced with a potential detention from an angry professor. Yet another thing the fifteen year old has no scruples with; getting into trouble. Not saying she’s on the lookout for it, but should it arrive on her threshold she’ll take it like a witch.

In the world of academia, Errin only does well during those high-stress days when every single professor decides to assign feet, upon feet of parchment due all in the same week. This sort of phenomenon plays into her inability to stick to one game plan at a time, therefore researching or studying multiple subjects at once is the only way she can keep up with school work. During those lulls when only one assignment is due, mostly during the beginning of the year, she can barely, if ever, get her assignments in on time. This has a fairly bad effect on her overall grades thus proving that efficiency is not quite a substitute for the appropriate application of acquired knowledge. This is not an implication that Miss Ailishe is stupid, no, simply that the academic side of the intelligence spectrum is not her forte. She can, in fact, be quite clever.

When faced with members of the teen-aged clan, Errin is not really shy. Upon a first meeting, she may seem slightly reserved and almost formal, but this generally lasts just long enough to reach the “weather” discussion before she will shed the display and offer the real deal. She doesn’t seem to have any trust issues whatsoever, and is quick to open up to people, yet even she has yet to come to terms with the reality of this. Frankly, she has yet to even trust herself and so the person she portrays varies depending on her company. She is smack dab in the middle of her identity search and so she occasionally slips up in being her various selves which frustrates those she has come to call friends, occasionally burning bridges between them and herself. She does find it difficult to get close to people without disappointing them sometimes, and that is one of the few things she can honestly claim to abhor: being a disappointment.

Finally, Errin has a dreadful sense of humour. This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t know how or when to laugh, but that she herself cannot tell a good joke even if something very important depended on her. Her greatest downfall? The always head-smacking love for puns.

Likes:
Rickety, Old Buildings
Chewing Gum
Fruity Drinks
Charms
Transfiguration
Muggle Studies
Muggle Artifacts
Children’s Literature
Meteorology
Tweed

Dislikes:
Potions
Maps
Pomp and Circumstance
Ketchup
Wet Socks
Folded Parchment (It’s supposed to be rolled!)
Divination
Animals
Modern Art
Being Alone

History: Errin Rhea Ailishe was born on a serene, summer evening, the more precise date being June 15th. She was the first and only child of a young and eager wizarding couple named Calvin Ailishe and Rose Blithe. Roughly ten years earlier, Mr. Ailishe and Miss Blithe had been graduating students at Hogwarts. He, a Quidditch-buff in Gryffindor and she, a soft-spoken Hufflepuff, had not actually met until eighteen months after graduation when the two had moved into the same duplex in a small wizarding village on the outskirts of London. What started out as a cliché “sugar-run” had turned into a pot of tea, followed closely by dinner and then a wild romp in the sack. It had literally taken a day for the two to hit it off, and although their personalities clashed on occasion, it was only another six months until Rose herself had decided to propose. Two years later they were married.

Calvin had converted the bottom of their duplex into a small repair shop for books and other magically inclined leather goods. He continued to follow Quidditch religiously. Rose worked at a salon a few doors down, always having been adept at Potions. Almost ironically, at the start of the 70s she had begun to take a keen interest in the Feminist movement, and by the time Errin was born she was involved in full-swing; protesting with bra-burning-manifestos of gender equality by night, and taking full control as super mother of the household during the day. It was a fairly decent life. They weren’t the wealthiest or pureblooded of folk, but for the moment, having a child was just enough.

Errin’s name had actually meant to have only one ‘R’, but the housewife who delivered her had been rather old and hadn’t changed her prescription in roughly twenty years, and her hand had a bad habit of shaking when grasping a quill. Young Errin didn’t mind, however, she liked the sound the ‘R’s made. As a babe, Errin had not been easy to take care of. She would cry when she didn’t receive attention of any kind and started out as an extremely picky eater. Growing into a young girl, she liked to watch her father work, mostly because he would tell her all kinds of stories. Little Errin also liked to sneak into her mother’s wardrobe when she was out for the evening, trying on the robes and shoes and make-up. She very much enjoyed imagining herself as a character from one of Calvin’s tall tales. She also liked learning about magic from both her parents.

At about age eight, Errin had entered into a sort of tomboyish phase, playing Quidditch with the boys who lived down the block and frequently making them cry. She liked playing beater and was very often able to knock a good portion of the other teams off their brooms. It goes without saying that they didn’t like this very much and soon didn’t invite her over much anymore. This didn’t seem to affect little Miss Ailishe much, since she had already lost interest in Quidditch and was moving on to more interesting pursuits.

Considering both Calvin and Rose were Half Blood, Errin had never had much contact with muggles until her first year at Hogwarts. While her parents did preach about tolerance to a great degree, they had felt a certain anxiety about letting their daughter get too close to their non-magic roots. There was a dangerous current floating around the wizarding world that didn’t bode well for those with too many muggle roots. Of course this omission worked both against and in their favour. Errin hadn’t really thought about asking too much about muggles, nor begging to visit London, but she did have a secret fascination with the unknown of the un-magical. This fascination has followed her even after learning more about them and their coping habits without enchanting abilities.

Upon receiving her Hogwarts letter, Errin had been absolutely ecstatic, not really able to wait to start on such a new and exciting adventure. Calvin and Rose were also thrilled, although they wouldn’t have minded if she attended the local wizarding school, as long as she was happy. Since her first year at Hogwarts, Errin has not yet grown bored of the school, especially considering how much change occurs during the year within and without the castle. Now in her fifth year, she has not yet come to terms with the lack of direction toward her future, although were she to dwell on it, she might discover that growing up with extreme tolerance of everything and anything may not have been entirely beneficial. Perhaps only in theory.

ABOUT YOU
Name: Lauren
Years of Experience: Erm. Approximately 6 years? Or could it be 7?
Sample Post:
Author’s Note – If this is a little too graphic, I can offer another one, but I thought it would work to display versatility or what-not. Enjoy.

The apartment was in a state of grievous disrepair. The dust mites and cobwebs made it all the more obvious that the place hadn’t been properly cleaned in a long enough while. It smelled faintly of mould, but reeked of something else. Something entirely different, for mould was comprised of organisms which thrived with life in such rank surroundings. One might wonder at the sanity of an individual who could live in such a place. The apartment had once belonged to middle-aged wizard man named Arnold Virgil. A dark and dreadful soul, really, who took great pleasure in patrolling the streets of muggle infested London for child prostitutes. It was imperative that they were under age, for the scarred remains of their innocence brought forth the most wonderful release through their torture. The climax for Arnold being the obvious intention of their impending deaths.

Now perhaps it wasn’t fair to say that the apartment “had once” belonged to Arnold, for it still very much did. As a matter of fact, he was much more present than he used to be. Ever since three days ago he had not left the apartment, not once. And there he remained, a heap of half-eaten carcass in the corner of the nearly empty living room. He might be the only explanation for the reeking stench of death which also inhabited the apartment. Although that could be attributed to Arnold’s new roommate.

Something solid and yellowed flew across the room, hitting the wall with a harsh bang before landing neatly on a pile of similar objects. A great growl echoed through the apartment followed by the awkward sucking-ripping sound of something that could only be described as a limb being pulled apart from its body. Now both of Arnold’s arms were missing. A large, bulky form sat on its haunches, tearing the flesh off of the dead human’s upper arm. Sharp canines and molars worked fiercely, chewing the meat with an unrelenting hunger. If there were a discernable threshold between human animality, it was clear that this individual had bounded over it at full speed. His human potential at rationale paired with his animalistic brutality made him all the more dangerous. There were many who had been faced with this, Arnold had been one of them, and there were many more that would have the great pleasure of encountering it as well. Whose pleasure it might be was the optimal question.

Fenrir Greyback lifted his head, open jaw dripping with saliva, pieces of human flesh and only Beelzebub knew what else. A pair of terrible yellow eyes looked towards the mostly boarded window from which a few slanted rays of sunlight filtered through. Fenrir gave a low growl, allowing the sound to vibrate almost therapeutically at the back of his throat. He could feel the dangerous hum within his core that came, without fail, at the time of the full moon. Like many calculative predators, Fenrir had placed himself in an exceptional location for the hunt he would take part in at the moon’s rise. It was purely coincidental that Arnold happened to share the same tactic, not to mention their similar interest in human youths.

Using one of Arnold’s meatless phalanges, Fenrir picked at his teeth, grinning despite himself. Tonight was to be less focused on the hunt. It was a recruiting mission. Now that the great Albus Dumbledore was dead, the wizarding world teetered on the threshold of war. Fenrir rose from his crouched position by the dead heap on the floor and lumbered over to the window, peering out at the street below. He closed his eyes, inhaling the musty stench of the apartment as though it weren’t potentially lethal. The face of a boy floated across the back of his eyelids. A boy with glasses and a scar jaggedly seared onto his forehead. The gigantic form of Fenrir Greyback shook with a great unbridled fury. His mouth opened wide in a monstrous growl as he launched what was left of Arnold’s middle finger at the opposing wall. It hit like a dart, embedded into the plaster and wood, vibrating from the impact.

“Sleep well tonight, Harry Potter, it’s best to take advantage of life while you still have it,” rasped the werewolf as he turned from the window and approached the stiff carcass of Arnold Virgil to conclude his afternoon meal.

Other: Mimbulus Mimbletonia

[Professor Albus Dumbledore]

Great application with excellent literacy. Definitely

Accepted.

I had a hard time deciding into which House Errin would fit in more, but finally, she's been sorted into Gryffindor.

-A