to say she stopped by these corners would be a distortion -- whenever she had to stop by knockturn alley, her steps were quick and her steps with resolve, but there is times, once or twice, that she must come to a halt. today is one of these times -- the fault would be of the sounds, those too familiar for her just to ignore as she passes by; it was her job not to turn her back on those who needed, especially those who asked for help.
often, the rustle of her cloak would be enough for a crack to be heard next, as the perpetrator apparated not to be caught, but instead of a loud apparation, the snap heard is that of bone breaking. she winces, and her eyes find the other womanâs, then falling down to the man whose blood tainted the stones crimson.âno, you can not.â being impolite does not suit her -- elizabeth was one of kind words and courteous nature, who walked past otherâs ill manners, but she would not let herself be ran over or intimidated, even if by a woman who was clearly wicked. no, she tells herself, blinking as she kneels by the man, gripping her wand with one hand and touching upon his ribs, then his sinuses, with another. the nose was broken, obviously, and there were plenty of other damaged areas--and that was from a quick investigation only.
âhas he done something to you?â she questions, not pulling her eyes from the injured as she points her wand to fix his nose -- this was never something she would condone, but she always tried to seek out a reason, any reason to explain how could someone do something this vicious.
            đč   â     hello friends. iâve already stopped by the ooc blog but since iâm a sloth & am lacking on stuff, i want to be Proactive & iâll need your help for that. so drop me a word / sentence as a reply to this post and iâll make a starter for us ( might hit you up or not who knows ).Â
mobile edit: don't like this,,,, drop a word children,,,
WHEN: MARCH 1979, 2:25PM
WHERE: THE GARDEN AT ROSIERâS HOME
WITH: ELIZABETH ROSIER, @chosebravery
     CALM AND PEACE â RARE WERE the days those two are connected, as rare as it has been a day in which both him and elizabeth were home at such an hour. even so, there are no complains. how could there be any, when they knew they were marrying in the middle of a war? having and raising kids in such a stressful moment? it did not matter then, it barely matters now, however â not when their kids are laughing and having fun, and their youngest is struggling with her slow, first steps. of course itâs dangerous but⊠how could domitius not enjoy or regret this? these little things he had never once guessed he would have in life?
ânot there, ettie!â he is the first one to notice where the one-year-old is going, pushing himself up and going after her. even tiny, she still rushes her little legs, making domitius laugh softly at how she seems to try to run from him â but he is quick when she trips, hands coming under her arms and picking her up from the fall. âyour siblings already ruined the roses when they were your age, the story is not repeating itself,â he keeps saying, a soft smile on his lips as he looks at her. different from the twins, she is one that looks a lot like elizabeth, the chocolate brown hair and eyes, curious and kind.
domitius moves closer to his wife once again, both him and the baby in his arms staring down at her, attentive at how she takes care of the plants. the garden was her idea when they first moved, but far from the man to be against it. it was a lovely idea, one he knew to be worthy in many ways⊠and not just to grow their herbs for tea. the result is obvious now, of course. feeling as cosette struggles to get off his arms, he smiles and puts her down, watching as the baby walks up to her mother, little and chubby hands trying to reach for what the woman is taking. âwell, someone wants to help,â he comments with amusement, crouching down beside them.
      days in the sun are a rarity these days â either that be by the brewing chaos, by daily appointments or just by the well known awful english weather â so when there is an opportunity to enjoy a moment outside, one must learn how to take it. and today, there is the blessing of the skies, of war, and, more importantly, the twins â the pair finally enjoyed a nap post lunch, one that the youngest rosier child did not join, but at least cosette did not mind to explore on her own, without her siblings trailing and tugging after her.
instead, she had a father interrupting said exploring, and elizabeth's eyes rise from the buds to watch as the man picks up the baby; his words makes her press her lips together in order not to laugh at the scene â elizabeth did not enjoy comparison between the siblings, as each had their own time and own temperament, but it was inevitable for them to compare what was to be first time parents to a set of unruly twins to being more experient parents to a baby that was, the least to say, milder.
the mother becomes distracted with her tasks in the garden soon enough, eyes once more on the greens and browns and yellows â she had never been able to grow something before hogwarts, and to actually work on the dirt instead of piling up pots was only made reality after marrying. many who knew her as the gracious healer did not think she would be fond of this, of getting dirt on her elbows, on her palms, under her nails, but elizabeth simply adored. and it would be for the best to spoil her plants before she was to return to the merciless routine on st mungoâs.Â
( well, her plants and other darling ones ).
âmama,â the whining pulls the brunette from her thoughts; ettie was anxious herself, a little breathy as she reached out for the shovel in her motherâs hand. âthis?â elizabeth questions, raising the equipment, only for the little girl to whine again and stretch her arms as if to be held. âdid you miss me? you missed mama?â the brunette asks, making her voice a bit higher as she leans in to smooch cosetteâs nose. âiâm not going to touch you, baby. mama is dirty.â elizabeth makes a face, nose wrinkling and pout out as she tries to put her hands out of the babyâs reach, only for cosette to dip down and take a handful of dirt, promptly tossing it upwards before any of her parents could stop her. âdirty!â she excitedly says a new word, giggling and grabbing at her motherâs dress â it isn't enough to stop her from finally falling down though, face first on her mother's now stained dress.
"well, you can't say this has been done before." not on the dirt of their garden, at least, elizabeth thinks, glancing at her husband in solidarity.
me, late? you can (troy bolton vc) bet on it!!!!11!1
good morning / afternoon / evening, my children. my name is tea (or t, or anything you want; s/h pronouns) and i have been struggling with a flu for over a week now and things,,,have been difficult but i'm going to power through because i already adore this rp (the writers in here are no joke???) and i ought to present yall my daughter. i will babble a lil about her under the cut and if you want me to reach you out, like this post!!
 * âł â the dark lord has targeted [ ELIZABETH ROSIER NEE HEPBURN ] !  the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ ALICIA VIKANDER ]. the [ TWENTY EIGHT ] year old [ female ] was [ WARM & HELPFUL ] before the war, but have now become [ STUBBORN & SELF RIGHTEOUS ]. though they were once a part of [ GRYFFINDOR ], they have now taken up the position of a [ HEALER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ MUGGLEBORN ] is actually [ AN ORDER MEMBER ], but i wouldnât report that to the daily prophet.
the only child out of a quite unlucky couple, elizabeth was born in a household where people made gold out of grass. her parents were poor and unfortunate, but they loved each other--her father still claims so, even after her mother's passing when the girl was just three. mr. hepburn's optimism was what supported them--that and his gig at a pawn/repair shop at linlithgow; while he went on that and any part times he could find to keep up rent and put his daughter through school, said girl would be at home, holding onto what needed to hold and distracting herself with tales of other worlds.
as the daughter of an immigrant and an outsider, elizabeth grew to be peculiar, standing out from the rest of the people in the small town she came to live on after her motherâs passing. on the mid fifties, on a scottish town where nothing happened, people didnât take very kindly to strangers disrupting their routine, but it was where elizabeth was to grow nevertheless; with a few years, name calling was something she learned to become unfazed by. despite however isolated and shunned she was then, she never imagined the magic of her books could become reality--the butterflies in her stomach were both of excitement and nervousness, a mix of feelings she would come to feel many times over the rest of her life. for good or bad, she was different (and this, too, would follow her for the rest of her life).
when her letter came, what she assumed to be a well conceited prank turned out to be her new astonishing reality. as she went through a wall and boarded a train, she was both terrified and amazed.
soft spoken, quiet and isolated, with a preference for long books and a tendence for distraction, elizabeth hepburn was hardly the model person for a gryffindor--she didn't think of herself courageous when the hat was placed on her head either, but there are all kinds of courage in this world, she was told. in the seven years to follow she had never watched injustice go free, nor she backed out when someone (anyone) needed her; beneath honey and unfailing kindness, in moments necessary, her voice was like thunder and her will unbreakable.
of course, sometimes it wavered--many were the times she almost gave up the wonderful magical castle when she thought of her father, all alone. he has refused this many times: she was meant for something more than a small town with ordinary people who did not appreciate her, mr. hepburn would tell her.
those years away at hogwarts installed a tradition of very long letters, written at least twice by week--flowery, extensive and very descriptive, they are still kept to this day by the old hepburn, and its sight is enough to make the daughter blush and smile sheepish. she is a sight when excited, all who know her know her passion.
her career in âwizard medicineâ was a suggestion by a professor, who was aware of her excelling in herbology and potions, and her people skills (ironically, since she, then, was not the most social kid & her willingness to socialize and reach out was belated). despite over ten years working on st mungo, she still aspires for something more; her husband & her shares a dream to open a book shop of their own, but due to more pressing events, it keeps being pushed forward.
she married domitius on the spring of 72, about 26 months after they bonded while she nursed him back to health. her interest in men -- or relationships in general -- had been nonexistent until then, so it was a surprise not only for his prejudiced pureblooded family but also for those who knew elizabeth. regardless, she claims he is first her best friend, her soulmate, then her husband--he is also father of her children: five year old twins daniel and isolde & little cosette, not much older than a year old. if you catch fictional characters names in there, youâre spot on (she is a nerd even as a mom, yes--fitting too, as her own name had come from the iconic austen heroine).
currently she works at the janus thickey ward as its healer in charge, although her presence is often required on the dai llewellyn ward due to her experience with some incidentsâ injuries; itâs not uncommon to see her reading the newspapers, books and letters to the patients.
however, it has been over a year since she last stepped on st mungo. her youngest child was born on early 1978, so elizabeth has been on maternity leave since then; as much as she loves her children (and she does, overwhelmingly so), the life of a stay at home mother does not agree with her anxiety so she is very eager to return to her routine, even if it means she has to stay away from her children for more than she wished she would--she takes as advantage her father is so good with them, and always willing to crash in their spare bedroom.
she is virtually incapable of staying still--if not with her nose in a book, itâs likely she is walking around, doing whatever needs to be done around wherever she is (and this does not only apply to her own house, much to her friendâs dismay). her nervous tics include tapping her fingers, tucking her hair behind her ears and biting her lips; fiddling with her clothes and her wand also apply so itâs not uncommon she is keen to hold peopleâs hands to prevent the anxiety to be too transparent.
elizabethâs ethical code is incorruptible, which is one of the main causes for any friction she may create with others--another would be her inability to stay still in face of wrongdoing; blindly, she will not admit she is a bit of a nosy judgmental holier-than-thou. thankfully (debatable for some), all that makes her just right to fight for the order.
elizabeth has an intimate knowledge of muggle mechanics, due to her fatherâs main line of work during her childhood years; even now, when she has lived most of her life in the wizard world, she is still curious and eager to learn and be connected with the muggle world and often finds herself doing things the muggle way.
EXTRAS (ish):
she is a saggitarius!! which is not what people first think of her, but elizabeth is just like um donât judge a book by its cover ok. but i donât blame people who take her as a virgo because ya know, girl is kinda....very virgo lmao (it is her ascendant anyways shhh). she was also born on 1950, which makes her a grandma tiger; she graduated hogwarts on 1968 (i donât think thereâs anyone who could have been classmates w her but,,,iâd die for this so pls bring me more old people!!!)
her wand is made of laurel wood & phoenix feather; it is quite bendy and is 10 3/4 in size. overall, i found it all very fitting!! laurel wands are said unable to perform a dishonorable act, and it does not accept lazy owners, who are often on a quest for glory -- it combines rather well with the flexibility, fitting for a woman who can not stand still / doing nothing / saying nothing for more than ten minutes.
her patronus is a weasel! people with this patronus tend to be ruled by instincts and very intuitive, and to be polite, honest and hardworking. (source)
her amortentiaâs scents are old manuscripts (she is passionate about books, but she adores old editions because of how personal they are), fresh ink (she is often writing something, and always carries both quills and muggle pens with herself), the first batch of bread of the day (she just,,,loves bread. it is a very nostalgic scent for her, remeting from her childhood), geer oil (her father is a mechanic, and often she helped him), chamomile (known for its calming effects, the rosier plants chamomile in their garden & it is elizabethâs husband to go choice of tea).
talking about scents, homegirl often smells of herbs. her husband keeps telling her she smells so good and like, yeah, he is cheesy as hell, but iâm pretty sure she does smell like heaven.
also about scents: she hates coffee and is the founder of coffee sucks society âą . expect dissertations about this on my writing.
pretty much all else i can say / know about her are on the many profiles iâve sent on my app. you can find them here if you donât mind the length ( 1, 2, 3, 4) & her aesthetics here + a weheartit collection (aint nobody got time for that other site) here.
RE: ELIZABETH ROSIER.
TIME STAMP: APRIL 1979.Â
LOCATION: SCOTLAND.Â
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TEST, test, test, test, test
TEST
đč Â Â â Â Â Â ( đđđđ đđđ ) Â walk into the club like wait nevermind can we go home.
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