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With the muggleborns in charge, nothing has really changed since the Battle of Hogwarts. The sides have been switched with those bearing old family names being discriminated against. Once again the revolution is upon us. What side will go to the darkest places to get what they want? Will it be yours?

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Resident of the Forbidden Forest
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Bloodstatus: Veela
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Joined: 29-June 15
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Last Seen: Apr 18 2018, 06:26 PM
Local Time: May 23 2018, 02:16 AM
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Artemisia Evergreen


My Content
Feb 4 2018, 10:58 AM
The University wasn’t exactly on top of the list of places Artemisia wanted to visit if on the list at all but she was incredibly curious to see where her son had chosen to spend his next few years. It had been a long while since she had seen him and she missed him terribly, a fault which was entirely her own but at least she could claim it wasn’t intentional.
Motherhood was a tricky thing and although she tried she just couldn’t quite get the hang of it... It was too easy to slip into the routine of going about living life the way she always had; carefree and capriciously, and in leading such a life one often paid little mind to the passing of time. A week or a month, or six could simply fly by and in the process, though inadvertently, she neglected her relationships. Having also closed her shop, moved out of her abode and seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth without any notice whatsoever - once again - didn’t exactly make matters any better. Unreliability was unfortunately very much in her nature.

As was her way, the visit she had decided upon paying her son that day was on a whim rather than a priorly made plan, which would probably have been more preferable to her son as teenagers in general were seldom in favour of the idea of their parents showing up without warning. But Artemisia paid such formalities no mind and she entered the university precisely in such a fashion.

It quickly dawned on her though, just how large the place actually was and how much more difficult it was going to be to find Mickey than she had originally thought. Admittedly she somewhat expected to simply stroll through the doors and find her son right there.
It was a trivial obstacle however, and nothing Artemisia couldn’t sort with a little bit of charm or by all means through the use of her son’s charm.
Smiling to herself she approached a group of girls whom she quickly found more than willing to not just direct her to her son’s dormitory but rather enthusiastic to even lead her all the way to his door, no doubt in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the handsome quidditch player. Not that she could blame them.

“Thank you girls for showing me the way.” She said grateful for their assistance but uninclined to share the attention of her son with a group of lovestruck girls, she proceeded by ushering them away with a gentle wave of her hand, “Run along now.”
Obviously this wasn’t met with quite as much enthusiasm as shown previously so she added with a lecherous smile, “Worry not my little birds. I will tell Michael just how very helpful you all were. He will be most delighted, I’m sure.”

This seemed to be satisfaction enough for the girls who scampered off giggling. Artemisia then placed a knock on the door.

Mickey Crawford
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.

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.
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