RIGBY, elanora melrose

[ELANORA MELROSE RIGBY]

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ELANORA MELROSE RIGBY
"People moving, all the time,
Inside a perfectly straight line -
Don’t you want to curve away?”



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OKAY, SO GIVE US THE BASICS !

"ER, HELLO THERE. I AM ELANORA MELROSE RIGBY BUT YOU CAN JUST CALL ME ELA, NORA, NORSY, OR SOME OTHER VARIATION OF MY NAME THAT YOU PREFER. I HAVE BEEN WREAKING HAVOC FOR FIFTEEN YEARS AND I DON'T REALLY PLAN ON STOPPING SOON. I GRACED THIS WORLD WITH MY PRESENCE ON JUNE 28TH, 1960. I BRANDISH A EUCALYPTUS, 13 ¾ INCH, UNICORN TAIL HAIR WAND, I KNOW YOU ARE JEALOUS. I AM IN THE HOUSE OF RAVENCLAW, FIFTH YEAR, AND DAMN PROUD. I WAS BORN WITH HALF-BLOOD, NOT THAT IT REALLY MATTERS. SO YEAH, ARE WE DONE?"

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SORRY, NOT QUITE. SO WHAT ARE AND AREN'T YOU INTO ?

“Oh, my. Where to begin? I suppose that above all else, I like to mix things. I happen to be pretty creative, and pride myself in being a bit of an ‘amateur inventor.’ It drives my housemates crazy, but I like to experiment with various food/drink combinations at the dining table – you should try mixing orange juice and Tabasco, some time. I’m the learn-by-doing type, naturally, and though my reservations in some areas keep me from learning how to do some things {i.e., how to maintain a love-relationship for more than a couple of hours}, I like to keep the doors of my life open to chance and possibility. I love the vibrant, continuingly unforeseeable nature of life itself – so long as the surprises are mostly good ones, that is.

“I also love the little details of things – the cross-stitched bindings of plays written by Malecrit, or the flaky layers of the stem of quills – no matter how trivial these things may seem to others. Of course, I like the bigger picture of things, too; I’ve had more than one person tell me that I’m a dreamer, though I try not to be too idealistic in this regard. I adore traveling; my family goes on vacation in a different place each break, and I never get tired of sampling the different cultures and languages, sights and sounds. I’m a terrible klutz, but I can’t help but dance a little when I hear any sort of music, even if it means taking out a nearby end table, or, heaven forbid, a fellow student. The only music I won't tap my feet to is classical, probably because my father played it to put me to sleep when I was young. I happen to enjoy it just as much as I enjoy modern music, if in a different way - it's one of the only things that really helps me to relax.

On a more basic, note, I happen to like all of the following: quidditch, romance novels, classic literature and poetry, day-dreaming, sixty degree weather, and days without humidity. You may be surprised to hear that I enjoy a good bit of physical activity as well - running or swimming, mostly. I don't mean to brag, but I'm a right natural in the water {if not so natural as merefolk}. In terms of classes, I adore transfiguration – though it’s my worst subject at an ‘A’ average - while Muggle studies and DADA happen to be my two best. I also like bright colors, anything with more sugar in it than is logical or healthy, the smell of peppermint, the taste of wine. Firewhiskey is fantastic, too - please don’t tell my father that I said that, though. Oh! I absolutely love my friends. I keep an odd assortment of people at hand for my ‘inner circle’, which happens to work out nicely, as I’m a touch flippant in my moods and fancies.

“The things I don’t like, now, yes? Well, that’s a bit simpler. I don’t like boorish or childish behavior – albeit, we're not grown adults, here, but surely boys have something better to do than toss around the first years like quaffles. I don’t like the pressure my father puts on me to be a doctor, "like him," when I get older. I think that stems from the fact that my dad was a Ravenclaw. Sometimes I wish I’d been sorted into Gryffindor, like my mother, because in all honesty, I’d rather deal with the creatures that cause the problems than the injuries they leave behind {even if I'd probably be scared to death}. On top of that, I don’t like that I get emotional all-too-easily, or that I find myself attached to other people before I even know it. It makes it even harder when they turn out to be different than they first appeared – not that I have a problem with people being different {would I even have room to talk?}. I just can’t stand to feel like I’ve been fooled.

“Also, I don’t like people that are completely one-dimensional – be they completely full of themselves, or totally submissive. It bothers me even more when people are given opportunities of any kind and they absolutely refuse to take them. Inhibitions – what good are they?! Better to do it and regret it later, instead of wondering what it might have been like, in my opinion. That might just be me, though – it’s not that I’m an outright risk-taker, but I’m dreadfully curious. The whole ‘wondering-about-it-after’ ordeal would put me on a stretcher. Aside from that, I’m not much of a fan of gravy, plain lettuce {I’m not a rabbit}, empty promises, or my letters in Transfiguration. Why can’t I be good at the one class I really love? As a final note, I absolutely HATEHATEHATE the fact that I epically fail at relationships. Even though I’ve never had a real one {most likely, because of said FAIL}, that’s something I’d like to work on.”

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HOW ER... INTERESTING. EVER LOOKED INTO THE MIRROR OF ERISED ?

"I want to fall in love. I want to get married. And I want to have two kids – one boy, and one girl. Is that asking too much? Because if not, I have more – I want to continue to travel the world; I want to scope it from top to bottom, side to side. I don’t have a career in mind, exactly, but I’d love to write a book. I have no idea what kind. I certainly don’t want to spend my life doing mindless, trivial things, however. I want to change the world, or at least, whatever small part of it to which I find I truly belong. And I’ll need to find that place, first. Help the people in it. At least once in my time here on Earth, I want to save the life of another – even if doing so draws my own life to a close. It’s a noble enough pursuit, I think, that regardless of what I’ve done in my life altogether, I’ll at least be remembered for one undeniably good deed. I don’t have a death wish, mind you – that’s just the way I’d like to go when I’m, say, sixty-four.”

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WHAT MAKES YOU SHAKE IN YOUR BOOTS ?

“I’m spooked by loud noises, and startled easily altogether, really {probably because my head is always in the clouds}. I once fell down two flights of stairs, so I can’t descend them without notable caution, now. I'm also terrified of choking to death or being poisoned, though I have only myself to blame for that, sadly enough. I’m afraid of being criticized, because I happen to love who I am, and how I do things. I can do almost anything when there’s someone there with me, but without a partner in my games and fun, there are no games to be had, sadly enough. I go mad if I’m on my own for too long, and truly, it petrifies me to think I might be alone my whole life. I don’t mean in the physical way – in the important, connective one. I need someone to understand me and complete me in a way that makes me aware that I was missing half of myself before they came along. I know I’m still young, and maybe I won’t find that person now. But, what happens if I don’t find that person, ever? Won’t I just be half of what I was meant to be? What can half of a person do to change the world? There’s something that scares me more than that, if it’s possible – finality. To think that everything I know to be may suddenly vanish in one swift, foul swoop; to think that I may not get a chance to fix a mistake, or mend a friendship, or tell someone how I feel. What if something ends against my will? What if all my efforts were in vain? The finality of anything – especially, death – is something so far out of my control that I can scarcely fathom it completely. That thought in itself leaves me with a chill so powerful, it can linger for days upon end.”

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EVEN YOU HAVE TO HAVE SOME GOOD QUALITIES, RIGHT ?

"Sure, there are some alright things about me – I’m creative and rather witty, I must say, but such things come naturally for a Ravenclaw, I believe. Most people have this terribly poor impression of me as some shy, quiet girl, probably due to the fact that I don’t parade around and draw attention to myself as if my life is some glamorous public show. But I take pride in that – my life is a show for the people who matter, and I always give myself fully to those whom I hold dear. I’m incredibly loyal; I find fidelity to be the best policy. I don’t think I have it in my bones to betray the trust of another, really. I’ve been told my shoulder is rather comfortable by more than one companion, so I suppose I’m an alright person to go to if the going gets tough. Being curious helps me to be an incredibly sharp listener, and I’ve got a sliver of experience and wisdom hidden under my belt. I’ll offer a shoulder, an ear, and a notch of my belt to any who ask for it. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“I try to be welcoming to people; maybe I don’t throw myself at people who don’t fit in, but I still feel for those who are misunderstood. I find superiority and narcissism to be petty and fictitious identities, good for nothing more than false, ephemeral security, or a mat upon which to wipe the sod off of one’s shoes. I’m very passionate about all those things in life that inspire me, and I find myself inspired by many things. The good in people, mostly – I think it outshines a great deal of whatever bad one’s life may hold. I tend to cling to my own good: my friends, my hobbies, and the majority of my memories and thoughts, maybe a little too tightly. I’m very protective of the things I hold dear, and have yet to let any of them fall to ruin. Though it’s a common trait for a Ravenclaw, I, too, have a very deep way of thinking. I use my mind to its maximum capacity, even if it leaves me brain-dead every once and a while. Sure, I have a tendency to stow away worthless trivia - in fact, I could probably name just about any piece of classical music by ten seconds in, if I tried - but I do focus on important things, most of the time. I care about the bigger picture. Not everyone appreciates that in a person, but it’s the ones who do that I really care about. And if there’s anything that I take pride in, it’s the fact that I won’t change for just anyone. No matter how quirky or complex I may be, I’m that way for a reason. It’s that way I choose to stay.“

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AND IT'S QUITE OBVIOUS YOU HAVE YOUR BAD, HUH ?

"I’m not all confidence and wit – I happen to be a victim to such things as chronic boredom, as well as the tendencies of a perfectionist. Oftentimes I’m forced to amuse myself with wild stories or crazy plots and schemes to keep my mind occupied, but there are also times where simply fidgeting with whatever’s lying in reachable distance will do just as fine a job of keeping me from going totally mental. I hate that I can never use any of the harebrained schemes I come up with on a daily basis because of my relative spinelessness, even though I still get a sort of cheap thrill from doing bold, audacious things. I ramble a lot - I guess that's a negative quality? If it isn't, it's made negative by the fact that I continue to ramble/talk in my sleep - which I only know because my roommates enjoy the conversations in which I try to sell them muggle cars or other random things. Also, I dislike the way I think too much, and overanalyze things, which leads to dwelling, which always leads to mood-spoiling doubt – or worry. Worry is worse. If I had a wart, it’d have ‘worry’ written on it. Hmm. Maybe that’s a bad thing about me, too – I have a rather odd way of explaining things. Aside from that, though, I am admittedly a light cynic when my mood is particularly low. I’m also distrusting to a fault - or, am I trusting to one? Maybe I'm a bit indecisive, too. Regardless, I connect to people very quickly, too quickly for anyone's good. I have a lot of highs and lows, too, probably because I have literally no control over my emotions. I'm a touch over-dramatic, I suppose. My over-sensitivity leaves scarcely any room for logic or practicality, which is quite frustrating for someone with an otherwise logical mind – trust me.

“When meeting someone new {especially an attractive member of the opposite sex}, I often turn into a nervous mess; everything I say comes out in such a rush that sometimes I end up saying random, totally irrelevant things {or, not saying anything coherent at all}, which is horridly embarrassing. Ugh - I’m such a girl. Not to mention, a hopeless case. What’s even worse? When I get angry – I mean, really REALLY angry – I start to hiccup. Now, honestly, can you expect anyone to take your yelling seriously if you’re hiccupping every two seconds? The whole thing turns into a BIG JOKE. I know from experience. At least the anger doesn’t last long, that way. Though, it’s usually replaced with a heavy bit of relentless sarcastic banter. Ah, well. Otherwise, I guess my sweet-tooth could be a weakness, too. I always have the same breakfast - bitter coffee or tea, coupled with something sugary enough to put a normal person into a state of shock, if not a coma. What can I say? Chocolate and licorice are my downfall.

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LET'S GET DIRTY. WHAT TURNS YOU ON ?

“I like boys – not just any boys, of course. Naturally I like the attractive ones, but a real romantic interest has to be a little more substantial than that. I like someone who’s honest, and humble, though still upbeat enough to have a good time. I like a wily smile, a quick retort, a sharp mind. I’d melt into a puddle of Ela-goo if someone could name a quote from a book when I mentioned it. GAH, I’m such a nerd, aren’t I? Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to hold down anything romantically. I’m not particularly keen on all-brains-and-no-anything-else, you see, but I don’t want someone without common sense, either. I like an equal balance. A slight bit of mischievousness mixed in with a natural good nature {I’m not one to judge, but I can’t say I’d want to date someone with the nature of a jailbird}. Laughing and having fun is a plus. I like being close to people, really – I can only dream of the kind of ‘close’ where words couldn’t say anything more than what’s said in a look, or an embrace. You know what? I think, in all truth, I’d like nothing more than someone who genuinely likes me. Someone who could hold my hand and be happy to let others see. I like sappy, classic romance, you could say – so long as it’s not too willy-nilly.”

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DO YOU LOVE YOUR FAMILY ?

“Of course I love them, even if they can be a bit, oh, should I say – overbearing? Really, I’m lucky to have the family I do. I know there are others who are far worse off. We all get along pretty well, even if we grate on each other’s nerves once and a while with our individual quirks {or, in my father’s case, lack of them}.

“There’s my Mother – Selma Olivia Bostwick, age thirty-nine, muggle-born. Bostwick is her maiden name, so she’s Selma Rigby now, of course. My mum’s a former Gryffindor, and she puts those qualities to good use from what I can tell. She works for the Ministry in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and has a nasty scar on her left leg from a kappa she encountered once. That’s about all I know regarding what she does on a daily basis {though I sincerely hope it’s not wrestling kappas}, other than what she does at home. She’s much more…lenient, I guess, than my father. More forgiving of my scatterbrained daydreaming, too. She likes that I have a broad range of interests, and she even humors my love of mix-and-match anything. Once, when I was five or six, my father made a comment that I was too much like a patchwork quilt – that I’d never find something as curiously mixed as I was. Next day, mum gave me a doll made from a patchwork quilt, and made a point to show my father that it consisted of 48 different designs. I still carry it in my trunk with me.

“My father is Signor Dean Rigby, age forty-eight, and happens to be the Head Doctor on St. Mungo’s First Floor: Creature-Induced Injuries. I’m positive that my mother and father met when she was injured by that Kappa, though they haven’t admitted it to me yet. My father is a bit stringent, you see. Very practical. A traditional Ravenclaw. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m a contemporary Ravenclaw. That’s what I call it, anyways. He’s bothered by the fact that I don’t know what I want to do when I get out of school – other than that it won’t be in the medical field, from what I can tell. I don’t know what he’s thinking – I’m only fifteen. I have two more years – hell, all of my life – to figure out what I’m going to do with the remainder of it at the time. He’s a bit put off by that, I think, but I can tell he loves me anyways. Of course he says so, too. He’s not that uptight.

“My younger brother, Fillip Edgar Rigby, is the last of my immediate family. He’s a special thing, he is. Six years old, and completely insufferable. I love him more than I should, for all the horrid pranks and tricks he pulls on me when I’m at home. It’s alright, though. Despite my mother’s protests, I always get him back in one way or another. One of the few times I can plan a trick and go through with it on my own is when I’m using it on my brother. Hah. I’m rubbish for an elder sibling.

“Other than those three, I have my maternal, muggle grandparents. We visit them often on their farm – they live less than thirty miles from us. Then there’s my Great Aunt Marjorie, on my dad’s side. She’s ridiculously old, and great company – she’s a metamorphmagus, which is really something. Both of my paternal grandparents have passed away, sadly. But we still have the family dog, Romulus, as well my owl, Omni. His name is actually ‘Omniscient’, as he seems to always know where someone is. I mean, the exact location. I think that’s just an owl’s job, though.”

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WHERE YA FROM, BY THE WAY ?

“We live in the interestingly named town known as Framlingham, Suffolk, in England. It’s about a hundred miles from London, so my mum and my father apparate to work every day. Framlingham is really a small place, not much to do. Nice and quiet, though, and very picturesque. Great for reading, so long as Fillip isn’t your brother.”

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THE DEMENTORS ARE HERE. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ?

“Remember that time I fell down two flights of stairs? Well, maybe you don’t. I do. It was in my second year at Hogwarts; I was just getting to the top of the stairs when they jerked suddenly, so hard that I went tumbling down, right off the edge of the staircase I was on. I was lucky that I fell onto another set of stairs. If not, I probably would have plummeted to my death. I don’t know how it is that I’m not afraid of heights.”

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BETTER GET UP A PATRONUS. WHAT ARE YOU REMEMBERING ?

“Hands down, the night my brother was born. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen my father cry {from happiness, I’m pretty sure}. I can’t help but feel as if he had the same reaction when I was born, and that alone makes me giddy in a bittersweet way, because he’s not the type to let his emotions on display like me or my mum. The feeling in the room is what really made an impression on me. I felt as if we were all the same, blissfully happy person – we were united by a powerful connection that night, you could practically see it tying us all together. That sounds incredibly melodramatic, I know, but I was only nine. It was for me then exactly how it sounds to you now.

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HI, I AM FALON AND I AM EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD.
I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR AN ETERNITY! {about eight years – four or five of them with relative literacy} AND I'M NOT
QUITTING ANYTIME SOON. WELL, I GUESS I NEED TO SHOW YOU I'M THE SHIT,
SO HERE IT GOES.
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4:10 a.m. The blaring buzz of an alarm clock found itself quickly silenced by a five-manicured-finger-death-punch that struck with enough force to mute the thing, permanently. They never lasted very long, alarm clocks. ‘Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. BUZZ. BUZZ.’ For anyone within their right mind, the sound of was annoying to an infinite degree. And if there was one thing the woman hated, it was monotony – most especially, monotonous sounds: the ticking of clocks, the ringing of bells, the recaps of affairs done by that same guy at the end of every meeting, the buzz of alarm clocks. The only exception to this standard rule was the sound crickets made – Juliet particularly enjoyed that sound. It was peaceful, unlike most noisy, repetitive things. If only there was an alarm clock with a cricket-setting. Maybe she wouldn’t go through three or four of them a week. Alas, she hadn’t come across such a thing just yet.

A groan. A sigh. A static-ridden, tangled head emerged from under the very hotelesque-patterned comforter. The fingers of the hand which rested still in fist-form atop the alarm clock spread out around the thing, gripping it tightly, as if to strangle the last drops of life out of it, before dropping it into the trashcan. She didn’t bother to unplug it before she peeled herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Ten minutes of showering. Five minutes of drying off and lotion. Two minutes to comb the hair, six more to dry it. She stops momentarily to start the kettle. Four minutes and thirty seconds go by, and she’s already dressed, brushing her teeth and primping up with a bit of light make-up. The teapot begins a shrill screech, relentless and demanding, signaling departure from the bathroom, and the three minutes she has to drink her first cup of tea. Her bag is packed, and she’s gone in another five from out of room #641, and down the hall, into the elevator that will take her to the main lobby, where she’ll check out at the desk. After that, her feet will take her to the sidewalk outside, where she waits for the taxi that takes her to the airport.

This had been the routine of Juliet Fitzgerald for the better part of the time she’d spent within the United Nations. It was not something Juliet particularly enjoyed, monotony, and all that. Today had not disappointed – it had been just as routine-esque as the rest of her days. Only, there was a particular difference in this one. Not in the routine itself. That had been flawless. It was the fact that this morning was quite probably the last she would ever have this exact routine. If all went well and God would permit, tomorrow, she’d finally have a new one.

At 5:50 a.m., Juliet boarded the plane for England. Her only company for the flight was a single briefcase filled with paperwork and files, all top-secret sort of jazz that she had to finish reading before the five-hour flight was up. The plane would land around eleven. She had to be briefed and ready by 12:30 – she would be meeting a very important person.

Slender fingers combed back the mass of locks that fell into the woman’s face as she read, bent over the food tray that was covered by a disarray of papers. It had been a mistake to let her hair down, though it was what she usually did for flights. It also made it impossible to read – and she was just getting to the good part. The unexplained happenings, the intelligence that had been collected about this ‘other world’. Dark eyes consumed the myriad of words with a gaping abyss of intrigue. With each sentence she swallowed, she had to defend against the chill that crept up her spine.

12:27 – A small amused smile tugged at the corners of a soft-lipped mouth. Juliet disbanded her cab in front of a curious looking place, the sign of which naming it as the ‘O’Malley’s’ for which the woman was searching. A strange place to meet someone important, if one was referring to a high-ranking official, or a CEO. Sure, she was meeting a doctor, and that was a bit up there in the ranks. Alas, even doctors have human tastes. Especially doctors that doubled as old childhood friends.

With a certain air of grace and confidence {not an overbearing one – more like a light fragrance}, the woman took the few steps needed to reach the door of the pub, and prepared for a long-awaited, desperately-needed rendezvous – the beginning of a whole new life.

{I want to give a big, BIG thank you to Erica, who was absolutely the kindest person in the world by allowing me to use Mary Winstead as my face claim. thank you so, so much, Erica. <333}

^{made by VERA SAY WHA ?! of caution 2.0!}

[• BEKI]

accepted.

oh. my goodness. this is a fantastic app.
i basically LOVE her, to be honest. the
character's so well thought out, and i
really feel like she's REAL and not just
someone who's been made up. you really
thought of EVERYTHING when you wrote
this up, and i am really, really impressed.
welcome to wywg, falon my dear! we're
ridiculously happy to have you. ♥