Quinnifer Zeea Vega finished

[QUINN ZEEA VEGA]

The Revolution Has Begun

"There's no need to call me sir Professor."



FULL NAME:

Quinn Zeea Vega

NICKNAMES:

Quinn or Vega

AGE:

17

BIRTHDAY:

August 20th

SEXUALIY:

Straight

BLOODLINE:

Muggleborn

HOUSE: (Or Former House)

Ravenclaw

YEAR: (If applicable)
JOB:

6th

SIDE: (Death Eater, Etc)

Undecided

SPECIES/SPECIAL ABILITIES: (Werewolf, Parslemouth etc please note that if too many people have special abilities etc I will put a ban on them for a short time)

None

CANON:
Astrid Berges-Frisbey



"You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!"



GENERAL APPEARANCE:

Quinn stands at 5'7 which is quite tall compared to the lack of growth in some of the girls and weighs a healthy weight of 134 pounds. She is generally caught with books in her hand and black rimmed glasses on her heart-shaped face. There is little to say about her clothing since most of the time she rarely puts effort into it. On her athletic fram body which holds long legs and a short torso you will see very little pin stripes, short tops, empire line tops and dresses, wide belts, pants or skirts with a high waistband, and tapered pants and skirts. 9 times out of ten on the weekends she will still be wearing her school uniform, though.

Generally awkward with the way she stands her grace tends to lie in her morning run and her qudditch skills. When running she is as graceful as a giselle but when walking or standing around she seems to have no stability or confidence. Quinn feels less beautiful around other girls and tends to believe guys are snickering behind her back but it is odd because at the end of the day when she is hanging out with her friends (guys and girls) it seems she is bursting with confidence. Most of the time you will see Quinn laughing and smiling around her friends but when it comes time to do things by herself or having a class by herself she is without a smile and tends to be shy. Most people compliment on her hair which makes her feel good about herself...Quinn loves to recieve compliments, but what girl does not?


MOST LIKED FEATURE:

Her dark brown hair. It cascades down her back in wavy curls. Sometimes it tends to be frizy which drives Quinn crazy.

MOST HATED FEATURE:

Her eyes they are really doe eyed and never convey if she is mad or frustrated with someone, instead most just forgive her instantly or do not take her seriously enough.

HERITAGE: (English, American, French, etc)

French but born in Barcelona, Spain.

ETHNICITY: (African American, Caucasian, etc)

Caucasian



"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure."



GENERAL PERSONALITY:

Quinn happens to be very sociable to her friends and is all ways the light at any party or get together between them. She is bubbly and playful without having to pull off the dumb vibe. She has this special charisma that others get swept up in. She talks when she has something to say but other then that she says very little. Quinn is the most tempormental when she has something to say and no one will listen to her or take her seriously.

Her favorite thing in the world is to debate and she will stick by her words till the very end even she is wrong (which is something she will never own up to). When it comes to her friends she will stand by them no matter what and she is very accepting to anyone with faults. She has a unique trait that some how she never thinks about judging others she just fawns over if they are all right or not. She never gives up on friends even if there are rumors going around. But do not step all over Quinn because if you do she does not easily forgive. Once disappointed by a friend or a boyfriend it is not easy for her to fall back into the same routine they once had.

School work is a must for Quinn she loves Charm's and Potion's class because it where she feels she uses the most skill. Quinn would rather use her talents in a tough class then let them waste in an easy class like most. Sometimes school work does not come easy for her but she is relentless to achieve a great grade.

HOBBIES:

Debating
Cooking
reading
Running
Quidditch

DISLIKES: (five or more)

People who do not stand up for themselves
Swimming
Singing (karoke style)
Dancing (because she cannot)
Substance Abuse

LIKES: (five or more)

Laughing
Succeeding
Sports
Romance novels
Hanging around with friends

FEARS: ( two or more)

Death of family or friends
Locked in small dark place by herself

SECRETS: (two or more)

Wants to fall in love but is afraid to let her gaurd down
Secretly is shy but acts like a fool sometimes to belong in a group


"I enjoyed the meetings, too. It was like having friends."



GENERAL HISTORY: (three paragraphs at least)

"Did they really wanna know that once when I was seven I fell from a tree and broke a bone? or that the scars across my back happened from a ski boat accident landing me into rock during are third stay in Barcelona? The thing is not everyone story is remarkable or to be told in a book and mine is ordinary. Yes, the biggest and most interesting thing happened when I was eleven years old and found I was witch. My parents were and shock and let me just tell you I was dying inside because all I wanted to do was rub it my friend's faces.

My parents are just like any other's, they fight and sometimes shout how they want a divorce, but at the end of the day they find their chemistry and passion over rules any silly argument they had. My parents are eccentric they believe that music heals the soul and the only way to know where you are going is to accept the past. They met each other in Barcelona where my mother ended up staying for three years but still missed her native land, France. After they had me my father found a good paying job teaching University students history. I am surrounded by classical music and the history channel at the end of the day and no matter how many times I get embarrased by them I would not trade any of it.

School, I do not fit into well, I feel it is the knowledge of what my parents taught me that does not gain me popularity amongst my peers, because who wants to talk about piano pieces and who was the Red Baron? I tend to be a little goofy around friends to keep there attention and now-a-days that is who I am the goofy, crazy smart, quidditch play Ravenclaw. I do not mind the title but some day I would like to be taken a little more seriously."

FAMILY:

Mother: Maria Anette Vega (Simone) ,48, Concert Pianist
Father: Aaron Alfonzo Vega, 52, College History Professor


"Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..."



ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: (you're best rp sample, would be prefered as the character your applying for but you do not have to)

Working a tie had never been something that Damon had been good at in the first place, but to have his right hand acting with life of its own (or lack thereof) at the present, wasn't exactly making things any easier. He probably looked like a clumsy child who'd stolen his father's tie and was now attempting to put it on without knowledge or skill of how to. It was almost comical, really, though Damon didn't find it very funny. Frustrating was more like it. The tie didn't really mean much for where he was going that day. It'd been awhile since he'd had to look for a new job, but he was fairly certain that making a good first impression was still of great import during the process. Of course, Graham, Texas was no New England. It was much simpler, and something told him that a whole tie and suit get up would make him stick out like a sore thumb, more than it would impress anyone. As mentioned, a tie wasn't seemingly necessary today, but he was torturing himself with the menial task because he wanted to prove to himself that he could do it.

It might have been in vain, but he thought if he worked on fine motor skills, then he'd be able to better them, and therefore have less clumsy episodes in the future. He was not above using his mouth to help accomplish it, either. He was a twenty-seven year old man, not a toddler; he could tie a damn tie. At some point, he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, a tie tail between his teeth, and the rest of the attempted square knot more like a defected hexagon. Oh, for God's sake, he thought, huffing out a sigh, loosening the tie, only to cause it to catch at a knot, preventing him from pulling it off one-handedly. He tugged and pulled it up around his face, until finally managing to yank it off over his head, slapping it into the sink in defeat, before stalking off into the other room of his tiny apartment. Damon rubbed his arm, tried flexing his hand and making a fist, pacing, as if the attempted ministrations would help breathe some feeling back into them. He was beginning to doubt it'd be a good idea to go out today after all. Who was going consider him once for a job if he couldn't use his right arm and hand properly?

Of course, if his limb would just cooperate until he managed to score something, then it wouldn't matter afterward. He was convinced he could manage, even if it started to happen again. It wasn't like he was looking to fly an airplane or anything. He could work with his left hand, teach himself to make it his prominent one, learn to write legibly. He would've tried sooner, but he was stubborn, and refused to admit that maybe he couldn't do certain things like he used to. Damon could admit to himself he had a tumor. He could admit to himself that he was up shit creek with it. But he couldn't admit that he was somehow lesser a man because of it. He couldn't allow it to control him, or stop him living his every day life. Even if in some ways, it already did, and it already had. After all, he wouldn't have been hiding out if that wasn't in some way true.

He sat forward on the edge of his bed, his arm uselessly across his lap, his other hand cradled the side of his head. He glanced over at the night stand where several prescription bottled aligned the end. One was open and Damon reached for it, taking back a couple of pills from the container. He paused then, his fingers gripping the bottle tightly as a heavy frown graced his brow, and a scowl formed on his face. He launched the bottle at the wall across from him forcefully, before reaching over and swiping the rest from the night stand, leaving the pills to fall about the wooden floor beneath as he stood and went to his closet. After a moment of silent deliberation, he plucked an earth-toned button up shirt from a hanger and slipped it around his shoulders, sliding his right arm in with the left, and then the other, shrugging it on and masterfully buttoning it up one-handedly. He slipped on his shoes (left tied for convenience) at the door and ran his fingers through his hair, eyes darting around for wherever he left his wallet and keys. After spotting them on the counter in his make-shift kitchen, Damon grabbed them and went on his way out the door.

He had no idea where to start looking, but figured that being as small a town as Graham was, the most logical place to begin would be inside town. He parked his truck along the main street and took to walking. He'd never worked anywhere else but as a university professor, so he was sure he would be considered overqualified and under-skilled in some establishments. At some point, Damon came upon a supermarket called Bateman's. Though he didn't feel that working at a place like that would be too hard, he also was aware that he was definitely over-qualified for any position they had to offer. Begging wasn't really a strong suit of his, so Damon hoped it wouldn't come to that.

As someone was coming through the door of the market, Damon stepped to the side to allow them to pass. However, they seemed to be preoccupied and hadn't noticed him, so they inevitably bumped into one another, and something fell out of one of their bags to the ground. "Excuse me," he said apologetically, adding, "Here, I got it," and hunkering down to scoop up the item. Then, he had a thought. "If you don't mind my asking," Damon began again, handing them the item. "do you know of any places around here that are hiring? I'm searching for work, but I'm not too familiar with the town yet, so I'm not sure where to look or who to ask."






"Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate."



NAME: Pip
AGE: 19
GENDER: Female
YEARS ROLEPLAYING: 1 year
LOCATION: Ohio USA
HOW DID YOU FIND US: Caution 2.0

[JAMES CHARLUS POTTER]

Accepted !

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