Owner of Herboristerie Amortentia
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Joined: 29-June 15
Last Seen: Aug 4 2017, 12:34 PM
Local Time: Aug 24 2017, 09:40 AM
58 posts (0.1 per day)
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Apr 19 2017, 06:27 PM
A swan perched atop one of the spectator stands towers surrounding the pitch where the Gryffindor team had been practicing for what was probably around two hours. It felt like it had been going on for a lot longer though, but it wasn’t because Artemisia was necessarily bored with the game. To be fair, she was still struggling to follow what was going on exactly with all the different bludgers and quaffles flying hither and dither, and then there was that golden snitch too, and it was really quite a challange to pay attention to everything all at once. But what the rest of the players did was of little significance anyway since she only really had her eyes on the goalkeeper and what was going on around him. But she was just very eager for the practice to be over.
The day had finally come and Artemisia couldn’t be more thrilled. Of course she could have waited for a Hogsmeade weekend to see her son but the anticipation and the excitement that had been building up inside her for the past few weeks leading up to his birthday left little room for patience. Besides, the notion that a school should have any right to dictate when she would be allowed to be with her son was simply preposterous and not something to which she was going to abide. She wanted to see her son and she wanted to do it now, and nothing was going to stop her.
Once the last player had left the field and only Mickey remained did she leave her spot atop the tower, and she disappeared behind the stands. A moment later she reappeared in her true shape, striding out onto the large grass field. She didn’t call out to him but rather stood there waiting for him to see her, which she figured he would do eventually.Mickey Crawford
Mar 3 2017, 01:17 PM
It was a rare occasion to find Artemisia cooped up in her little abode above the shop, most often seeking the freedom of nature to fill her days, whether it was foraging or simply to roam, but recently that rare occasion had been the case for several days straight. The majority of her waking time had been devoted to a project she meant to gift her son for his eighteenth birthday and it was a time consuming undertaking indeed, consequently leaving little time for much else.
As soon as the sun set behind the horizon however, and darkness fell over the little village she finally decided to put her work down, carefully returning her project into the large wooden chest which held the few but most precious of her belongings. From this wooden chest she then drew a silky robe the colour of a moonlit night sky, which she changed into. It was a remarkably simple gown, yet elegant, with large dolman sleeves falling to the knuckles of her hands and a bodice hugging the contours of her torso as well as her hips, only to fall into a cascade of flowing fabric around her feet. It was a garment which held a special significance for her. If the veela had anything similar to an equivalent of traditional garment it would be this gown. Colours varied a little from region to region, of course, her own tribe favouring this particular dark shade of indigo blue.
Covering herself in her travelling cloak and pulling the hood far over her head, she then slipped down the spiral staircase into her shop and continued out into the alley outside. She proceeded briskly and stopped only when she was far beyond the outskirts of the village. Taking a deep breath, she summoned a gust of wind into which she disappeared like a swirling stream of smoke only to reappear moments later outside the large iron gates of Dorjan’s castle.
It was a magnificent estate in all accounts but what always caught Artemisia’s delight was his garden. Buildings, however opulent and grand, never did impress her or had any impact on her at all for that matter. They were simply just that, building, some larger than others, some more unassuming where others rodomontaded with lavish gold and marble. But nothing could ever truly rival the grandeur and magnificence of nature.
Entering through the gates, she walked the long gravel path leading to the entrance, but slowly so as to allow herself the time to admire the serenity of his garden silently resting in a seasonal slumber. It was not the time of year unfortunately, when plants in this climate were given the opportunity to express their utmost beauty, but the arrangement was still a sight in which to delight.
Having finally arrived at the doors leading into Dorjan’s dwelling, Artemisia tapped the knocker twice and then waited.Dorjan
May 4 2016, 05:35 PM
The sun was setting behind the mountains just as Artemisia appeared on a cobbled road at the outskirt of the small village of Hogsmead. She was tired and hungry after a her journey back from the primeval forests of northern russia to where she had been summoned some month previous to sit vigil at her chieftess deathbed. It had been a long, sorrowful ordeal and Artemisia was very thankful for it to be over, and to put all of that and the place where she had grown up behind her once again. It would of course always be her home and hold a dear place in her heart but it really wasn’t where she belonged. Being back there had reminded her of that and reconfirmed that she had made the right decision to leave all those years ago.
She strode up the road into the village, the stone cobbles cold against her bare feet. It didn’t bother her though. She actually rather liked it. Shoes were, in her opinion, yet another one of man’s attempt to separate themselves from nature, to place themselves above it, which was one reason she despised shoes so very much. And honestly, they were mostly uncomfortable.
Rather than go to where she resided - the small flat above her shop - she went directly to the small inn in the hopes of getting a bite to eat. And indeed, the Three broomsticks, a place she had not visited before now, greeted her with the smell of roasted meats and ales, and the sound of people making merry.Jon Crawford
Jul 10 2015, 06:14 PM
Artemisia adjusted the hood of the long silvery white cape she was wearing to hide her face from view as she exited one of the apothecaries in Knockturn Alley where she'd bought some items she needed for her business, and at quite a bargain too which was one of the perks when there was a man behind the counter. A mere wink and they were practically begging to knock of twenty percent of the price and really, who was she to deny them? Besides, she usually gathered her own herbs and flowers which she used for her products, although it happened on occasions that she needed to purchase the occasional ingredient or two, so there were no reason to spend any more money than necessary. Granted, she could have gotten the goods for free with a little more effort put into her flirtation but she hadn't really come all this way for a bargain hunt. She was here because she knew a certain someone was here and that was far more important than taking advantage of any weak-minded men.
She secured the clasp on her satchel bag as she descended the small stair leading down from the shop and stepped onto the unevenly cobbled alley which was surprisingly busy. This was Knockturn Alley after all and there were plenty of dodgy people with sticky fingers stalking these passageways, and today wasn't a good day to disembowel someone in broad daylight for pick-pocketing. Not that a little sunshine had ever stopped her before but it would be most unfortunate if she should have to cancel her plans because of a slight accident. Besides, she could feel that he was near. The sensation was weak, certainly, and sporadically even ceasing all together which was rather odd and strangely unnerving, but he was definitely here somewhere and she began to mover towards Diagon Alley where she guessed he must be dawdling. Or that was her impression of what teenage boys usually did. A terribly loitering lot. But maybe he wasn't dawdling at all. Maybe he was skipping between shops like a man on a mission. Or, for all she knew, maybe he was glued to the window of that shop selling equipment to that utterly nonsensical activity the wizarding people called a sport. She knew he liked that sort of thing. All that spying on the boy had certainly provided her with a great deal of information.
Jun 29 2015, 05:44 PM
Real Name: Alionushka
Current Name: Artemisia Evergreen
Other aliases: Valeriane Noire. Leyla Hines. Giselle Orsini.
Blood Status: Full-blood Veela
Place of Birth: Virgin Komi Forests, Russian Empire
Date of Birth: Around 1915
Spoken Languages: Russian, English, French, Italian, Latin, Old veela language
Relationship Status: Irrelevant
Hair: Silverly blonde
Look Description: Artemisia is exceptionally beautiful. Her hair is silvery blonde and seem to fall around her shoulders with a feather-light bounce. She has long graceful finger with pointy and well-manicured nails which are surprisingly sharp. Her eyes are best described as enticing with an intense gaze which once caught can be next to hypnotic. Being a veela of old age, her very presence has some sort of affect on most men, though some more than others, and she possesses the power to ensnare almost any man with a mere wave of her hand should she so desire. When she moves it is with an exceptional, superhuman grace with flowing and seemingly gravity-defying motions. Had it not been for the visible proof of her feet touching the ground one could easily have assumed that she was floating in air.
When angered, Artemisia becomes almost the opposite of her beautiful self. She arches her back in a sort of feline-like defence and her eyes seem to glow like illuminated topazes. Baring her teeth which are slightly more pointed than the average human teeth, she produces a sort of hissing high-pitched growl as a warning. If this does not scare off the agitator, Artemisia may turn on her full fury, transforming into a pale, almost translucently skinned bird-like creature which is both frightfully grotesque and magnificent at the same time. Sharp talons burst from her long, thin fingers and scaly wings sprout to an impressive size from her shoulders in matter of seconds. Her face turns unrecognisable and malicious. Her eyes grow larger and rounder and turn completely white, almost like glass orbs in which shimmering pale smoke is entrapped. None of her facial features remain and left it a sharp, hawk-like beak able to tear flesh from bones like a warm knife through butter.
Dressing Style: Artemisia's dress of choice is no dress at all. Being completely in the nude makes her feel more in tune with nature and true to her veela kind. She does know though, that wizardkind are all a bit conservative on that matter and therefore she would seldom walk around so amongst them. When she’s dressed she wears flowing, loose kaftan-like dresses and robes made of lighter, sheer fabrics such as chiffon, silk and organza, but can be seen in more figure-hugging dresses as well on occasions. Never ever would she wear trousers however, or tight tops or jumpers which she finds too confining. She prefers to be barefoot but will wear sandal-like shoes occasionally.
Character Description: Artemisia is a mysterious woman who is difficult to figure out and she does little but add to the mystery with her stories. Rarely does her tales of her past tell the same story twice. She's a master of manipulation and deceit, speaking lies with as much conviction as she does the truth making it impossible to tell which is which. She’s sly and resourceful, and very self-serving in everything she does. She’s a loving woman though, kind and compassionate to those she care for.
She's generous to strangers from whom she sees a potential to gain something and she likes to engage in conversation with just about anyone. Whilst Artemisia is firm in believing veela to be a superior creature, she has an insatiable curiosity of wizarding folk and finds them to be oddly interesting creatures. She cares very little for their politics however and is disgusted by their human-centric arrogance.
Artemisia is fiercely passionate and an extremely sensual creature. She doesn’t understand why one should have any self-restraint when there’s so much pleasure to be had by following ones every desire. As a veela she's also extremely temperamental and impulsive, which can be a very dangerous combination or even lethal.
Quirks: Loves to be naked.
Strengths: Passionate. Cunning. Alluring. Curious. Outgoing. Protective. Loyal.
Weaknesses: Temperamental. Selfish. Capricious. Untrustworthy. Deceitful. Jealous. Possessive.
Likes: Herbology. Botany. Flowers. Healing. Being naked. Swimming. Nature.
Dislikes: Wizard superiority. Destruction of nature. Disrespect for flora and fauna.
Wand: Artemisia doesn’t require a wand to perform magic.
Boggart: A cage.
Other: Can transform into a swan.
Owner of Herboristerie Amortentia
Amortentia is a small shop in Hogsmeade offering a wide range of scents, perfumes, essential oils, creams and moisturisers, soaps, beauty products and cosmetics as well as tonics and teas.
Family and History
Son: Mickey Crawford
Background: Ekatarina Valentinovna Mironova was born to Valentin Anatolyevich Mironov and Olga Ivanovna Mironova on a chilly spring morning in 1901, in a small but loving home in the Russian countryside. Ekatarina, or Katja as she was called, was one of nine children and was taught to farm the land at a young age. Despite hard work, the Mironov family was very poor and food was always scarce. Upon reaching the age of twelve Katja was sent to work as a maid in the landowner’s large manor to earn money for her family and she was soon courted by the landowner's son and she fell madly in love. Naïve and knowing little of the world, Katja bought false promises he whispered in her ear, and overpowered by love and hopes of a better life she gave away her innocence trusting that they would marry and live happily ever after. This was never to happen and distraught to learn the truth Katja threw herself into the lake where she drowned.
Through the death of Katja and out of the water glittering with the magic of the fae rose Alionushka like so many of her veela sisters before her. The tribe to which she would belong, resided in the primeval forest of northern Russia where she began her life dancing and frolicing in the pale moonlight. Preferring the solitude of the woods, the tribe prayed mainly on vagabonds and peasants who strayed too far into the forest. Although young and still knowing little of the ways of the veela, Alionushka soon began questioning the chieftainess and the traditions of their tribe. After some years, Alionushka left Russia and her tribal sisters to go explore the world on her own and seek out other tribes. From the thousand lakes of Finland to the Transylvanian alps in Romania, to the ancient cities of Greece to the dark forests of Germany. Everything Europe had to offer right at her fingertips and Alionushka absolutely loved it.
Eventually, after many decades of roaming the continent, she settled just outside Grasse in southern France, in a small muggle village overlooking endless fields of lavender. During her travels she had gained many different skills but there was one skill she had perfected above all others and that was the art of botany, particularly the art of growing and preserving herbs.
Curious of the lives of these little muggles she adopted a muggle name - Valeriane Noire - and set up a small herboristerie in the village selling creams, ointments, tonics and teas for medicinal purpose, which proved to be a fruitful business. Whilst in Grasse she discovered another passion and that was the beauty of flowers and preserving their scents in oils. She soon began crafting soaps, lotions and perfumes which became wildly popular amongst the ladies in the village. Valeriane herself became increasingly unpopular however due to the effect she had on the men in the village and soon enough she was banished. Furious, Valeriane slew every last one of the villagers, leaving the village in flames as she set course for Britain.
In London, now going by the name Leyla Hines, she fell upon a handsome Irishman. He wasn't like any other man she had ever been with and she was absolutely entranced. Perhaps blinded by the love for this Irishman Leyla was ready to go against all the believes of her veela tribe and settle down with this human. She got pregnant, something which she wasn’t quite prepared for, and it both intrigued her and frightened her at the same time. A part of her wanted to flee and ridden herself of this man and this unborn creature in her belly whilst another part, a much stronger force called to her to stay and nest.
Upon the birth of her child, the most beautiful little creature she had ever laid eyes on, Leyla was absolutely in love. With there being no veela men and the baby showing no signs of creaturesque features, though admittedly Leyla had never seen a veela child before, she presumed that her veela powers were absent in the boy but loved the child no less for it. Her love and need to protect her infant offspring soon grew maniacal. She became evermore possessive and hostile, and even jealous of the love the father had for their son. It infuriated her to the point where she wanted the man dead. Fear of her own temperament and of hurting her beloved Irishman whose life she treasured more than her own, Leyla knew of only one way to keep her Irishman safe. She knew she had to leave and she had to give up her son, a wizard who belong amongst his own kind. So she disappeared never to look back.
She began travelling again, rarely staying anywhere more than a few months and she became the old, untamed Alionushka once more. Any thought of her Irishman and the son they shared faded into the back of her mind and would eventually be seemingly forgotten. She met some fellow veelas in southern Italy where she remained for many years, leading a hedonistic life of pleasure with no concern for tomorrow, freely using her alluring powers and in plentiful, taking lovers and seducing whichever men she desired. As time passed however, Alionushka grew restless. She wasn’t sure why but a strange force was beginning to call her north, back to Britain, and towards the highlands which could only be described as a sort of unsatisfied hunger which grew ever stronger.
Curious she would circle the skies above Hogwarts and Hogsmeade in the shape of a swan and every once in awhile when she did so she became overtaken by a strangely warm feeling inside. One day she spotted a group of children in the courtyard and there amongst a brown-haired boy whom she recognised immediately as her son and she knew she couldn’t be anywhere else but wherever he was.
Now going by the name Artemisia, she hastily settled down in the little village of Hogsmeade.