Post by Deleted on Nov 12, 2022 0:12:19 GMT
ISABELLA NAOMI DUTCHKESS
This is Isabella Dutchkess who is a 7th Year Slytherin.
She is 17 years old, and look a bit like Maddison Firth.
Played by meepster.
TW: Family member death, implied eating disorder, implied SH (the latter two you’d have to read between the lines)
You always knew you were destined for great things. From the moment your parents, or should I rather say, your mother laid eyes on you….she was disgusted by you. You were exactly like your father, or at least, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, the ugly piece-of-shit giant he was. But your mother couldn’t just cast you out, for her family, the poorer purebloods they were, needed some sort of heir to carry out the Dutchkess name. And so your mother took a deep breath….and didn’t chuck you out into the street. You know she still has some sort of prejudice against you, but maybe it’s to cover-up her own faults.
As it turns out, your mother’s mother’s side of the family were all Maledictus, why? No one would ever know. Stupid genetic curses that just so happen to exist in your side of the family, but nobody you lived with would ever admit that out-loud. You were raised to be the Dutchkess heir, the proper, perfect, golden girl. Straight As, straight sexuality (like that would happen), straight hair, straight teeth. Everything about you seemed perfect. Of course, you just had to bask in it. You were homeschooled from the time you were young, your mother and grandmother tutoring you. Had this been the 1800s, you would’ve been primed for the social season.
Your mother would constantly glare at you with that look of disgust, but your grandmother was more kind. She told you about the curse, taught you to ‘control’ it…though everyone knew what had happened to the entire maternal side of the family in the end. Your grandmother was young, in her early 40s, which made your mother in her mid 20s. But eventually the curse took her, both of them in the same day, the day before you were set to go off to Hogwarts. You watched in horror, for there was nothing you could do as your grandmother and mother quite seriously turned into foxes and ran off. You were young, you were naive against the ways of the world. You couldn’t chase after them. But then yet again, were you a coward?
When you arrived at Hogwarts, you were initially ostracized. You were taller than average, heavier than average, and you loved to command a room. When you got older, in Dueling Club, the spells cast on you had lesser harm against you. There were whispers, rumors about you. Especially since in your latter years…you were a bit of a playgirl. You had that charm about you, and if people could get past everything else about you, then you made them. You made people forget they’d ever said shit about you, the good ole’ fashion way of blackmail and manipulation. You didn’t at first mean to do it, but eventually, it was the only option.
For the few friends you did have, you did genuinely care for them. They were your posse, your clique, you spent it felt like every waking hour with them. You went home to your grandfather in the breaks, but you mostly kept to yourself around him. You studied, but you never did well in classes. You got all Es on your NEWTs. Which…you didn’t really care about. You were Seeker on your Quidditch team starting your second year, finding it a lot easier to get your anger out about other students when you could just pummel them with a broom.
As for your Maledictus curse, you managed it, we can say. You were hesitant to use such a cursed ability, transforming as little as you could, but you wanted to sometimes. Even if they were half-right about you being non-human, you would never tell anyone about the curse. Not even your closest posse knew. There was that one time…in sixth year…when someone happened to notice, someone from Frog Choir, but you swore to them over their holy grave that they wouldn’t say a word. Who is this person? Well, that’s the way the story goes.
Your seventh year has finally arrived. The last year before you get the hell out of this place and into a nice, stable job somewhere in Liverpool or Paris. You just want out of everything, at least until you know your time is up. You’ve started to write some stuff on the side, either ranting about your life, inflammatory shit about anything, or about why there isn’t a summer camp for half-giant teens. You’ve just kept writing. It’s a way to distract yourself when you feel about ready to explode. When pen to paper is the only way to fix something. Because maybe physical violence isn’t always the answer.
But a distraction is only temporary, is it not?
(NOTE: Not the full version, which is well over 2,000 words. If you REALLY want that, DM me.)
“Wh-What are you doing here?” Isabella staggered back in shock, gaping. She could slowly feel the bright, fiery fur fade away from her, the pain slightly unbearable for only a moment, before staring back at James before her with an aghast look on her face. “For the love of god, Cunningham, you shouldn’t be here!” Her voice took up an octave in intensity, before she sighed, rubbing her temples with a manicured hand. “Okay. Listen to me, asshole. I don’t know what sort of business you had coming out here, but since contrary to your belief, I actually care about you: you mind leaving?”
Watching him intently, she flipped her hand up in the air, before taking a deep breath. She knew what she had to say. No matter how much she hated to say it. “I guess you deserve the truth, huh?” Her eyes gained a wistful look as she started to pace, her gaze not even close to meeting his, and she started to monologue. “Well…the truth is: I’m a half-giant Maledictus. Yeah, yeah, feel free to stand there in shock and gape for a few seconds.” Her voice gained a dry tone for all of a few seconds as she did a playful eye roll.
“I’ve always had trouble accepting the legally right. Because we’re human, or in my case, half. Who made up the laws that govern our country? Who told those kids to be bitches? Who told ME to be a bitch?” Even though she was underage and had no intention of touching a bottle of alcohol, she felt so damn drunk. “James. Please. Just promise me one thing. Swear to God over your heavenly grave you won’t tell anyone, right?”
She placed her hands on her hips, tilting her foot upward to do her signature alpha bitch pose. “Cunningham…” Her voice gained a playful tone as she placed her hand gently on her friend’s shoulder. It only took one look into his eyes to know the solid, unspoken promise between friends that was just made. And so she smiled.
That is….until a certain someone happened to walk right out.
