❝ if people were rain
she was a h u r r i c a n e ❞
she forgot how to love —
perhaps she never knew how
victoire delacour; 25, former slytherin, tattoo artist & knockturn alley resident
Louis moved his chin up, away from the far too big book his nose was formerly buried into. Locking eyes on his sister, a smiled curved on his face. “Hullo, Victoire.” He gestured to the seat next to him. “Please, sit.” Louis thought his sister looked frazzled. Perhaps he was wrong, however. “Are you alright,” he questioned, a curious look recoiling to his face.
A small smile pulled at her lips. “Hey Louis.” He was always an amusing sight. Had it not been for the facial hair and well, his no-longer boyish features that too-big book would have dwarfed him and reminded her of her brother as nothing but a little boy. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a little wet.” Or a lot. Her hair framed her face like rat's tails and Victoire raked a hand through it in attempt to make it look somewhat better. She pealed off the rain jacket and sat herself down next to Louis. “So...” She cleared her throat. What are you reading?”
Sunday is always thought to be the relaxing day of the week. Business in the parlour was always booming on Saturdays and then errands were run as soon as she left. Sundays were her solstice. Whenever she thought of the last day of the week it was with a light, dreamy sigh. She would either be curled up in front of the telly, the heat of a hot mug of tea tickling her palms and finger tips or stretching out on the couch only to doze off into an extremely satisfying nap.
She hadn't exactly hoped to be soaked to the bone as the dark heavens above opened up to release their fury. What use was a rain coat ( what a total waste of money ) when it only ended up clinging to you like a second skin? All she had wanted was a change of scenery. Instead of a relaxing stroll, the young woman now raced through the small, cobblestone streets only to veer to the left and push into a café — a safe house.
The place was booming. It was hard to hear yourself think. Everyone in London seemed to have sought refuge in the cute little coffee shop. There seemed to be only one free chair in the entire room. So, even as a knot of discomfort fashioned into a pretzel in her chest, Victoire shuffled forward and mumbled, almost in audibly —
☓ — Name: Victoire Elodie Weasley Delacour (prefers using 'Delacour')
☓ — Nicknames: None
☓ — Date of Birth: 07/04/2002 ;; age 25
☓ — Blood Status: Pureblood, 1/8th veela
M O R E —
☓ — Gender/Preferred Pronouns/Sexuality: Victoire didn’t puzzle over her sexuality much as a child — it was naturally, never a major aspect in her life until she reached her teen years. She discovered the term ‘pan’ when she was fifteen and that’s when she understood the butterflies in her stomach that fluttered any time she had a crush. She didn’t lean towards males, females or anyone non-binary. What drew her in was the person themselves. Yet she never experienced sexual attraction until she first discovered love at seventeen. Prior to some research, Victoire now considers herself a cisgendered, demi-sexual and pansromantic individual.
☓ — Occupation: Victoire ended up not going to college and is currently working in a magical tattoo parlour in Knockturn Alley. She always had talent for sketching and a steady hand. Her shifts could be better but she loves the beauty of her work. Once she whispers the spell to allow the tattoos to come alive (‘animari’) they seem to really live. They adopt a personality of sort and Victoire adores her work.
☓ — Residence: Much to her family’s disgust (not that many are invited over to visit), Victoire lives close enough to her work place by renting an apartment she managed to polish up in Knockturn Alley. The loft stinks of damp and mould and Victoire needs two duvets at night just to keep the goosebumps away — but somehow it became her home. Despite it’s many flaws and the fact the sun never seems to fully shine in through the windows, it’s cheap and simply suits her.
☓ — Lifestyle/Habits: The young woman likes to kid herself that she’s somewhat healthy. She walks nearly everywhere and never past her apparition test despite taking it six times. After her last trip to St. Mungo’s for splinching off her left forearm and hand; she decided perhaps it was time to throw in the towel — something Victoire does not do easily. Despite the exercise she gets, she completely rewrites her health by smoking muggle cigarettes too frequently for her healer’s taste. A bad habit she picked up when she was twenty-one that she can’t shake — not that she tries too hard. Though she started chain smoking in her early twenties, she smoked occasionally throughout her teenage years; having smoked her first cigarette at thirteen years old. As well as that, she must have at least seven mugs of tea everyday. Never herbal tea though, she can’t stick the stuff. She never eats junk food however and simply dislikes chocolate (though she’ll indulge herself with biscuits more often than she cares to admit).
☓ — Style: For a swirling storm with skin, Victoire doesn’t dress like one. She always adored the dresses her mother laid out on her bed. She loved the bows that were tied among the ringlets that were her very own crown. As a teenager and an adult, the only thing that really changed about her style was the old, worn leather jacket that belonged to Bill that she adopted as her own and wears everywhere. For the most part her wardrobe is filled with pastels and bright coloured skirts and dresses.
☓ — Appearance/Distinctive Features: As a young girl, Victoire was always taller than others her age. She hit her first real growth spurt when she was only nine years old and towered over her peers. However, she didn't seem to grow after she turned fourteen — though by then she was 5'8. Her hair used to be more gold then platinum, unlike her mother, though with time it darkened to a brown with light highlights. For the most part, Victoire isn’t particularly freckly though there’s a smattering of freckles decorating her left shoulder. When the Weasley turned fifteen, as a birthday gift to herself, she got an enchanted tattoo of a single sparrow (it hadn’t been hard to convince the parlour she was of age). The tattoo has no special meaning to her but she adores it. Since then, she’s gotten another bird that can usually be found behind her right ear and a peacock that often displays it’s beautifully crafted plumage over the constellation of freckles on Victoire;s shoulder.
☓ — Hogwarts House: At the sorting, Victoire was a hatstall. Much like many of her cousins, she wasn’t assigned the house of the lions — instead, the choice was between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The sorting hat took two whole minutes to decide, while hundreds of faces stared the young girl down and left her fidgeting madly. Eventually, it sorted her into Slytherin. At first she was terrified, having heard the portraits at Grimauld Place. But she found warmth and solace among the snakes lair, blossoming like a flower among the cunning and ambitious ones.
Victoire Weasley is a rebellious introvert. She’s always preferred to wander off to poke at gnomes with the toe of her shoe than sit in the living room with the rest of her family at the Burrow during Sunday Lunch. The Delacour home in the south of France was always much more pleasant to be in. She simply never enjoyed the noise that accompanied the Weasleys and when she began to learn of the generation before her’s accomplishments she grew ever more uncomfortable around them all — particularly the Boy Who Lived. Like most of the Weasley-Potters, Victoire constantly felt the weight of a war she had never even seen on her petite shoulders.
For her first year or two in Hogwarts, she stumbled in shadow of the legacy of her family and it got to be too much. She found herself leaving her books to the side only to find company among the wrong kind of crowd. When she came home during the holidays, she had only a sharp tongue and doors were frequently slammed. They introduced her to hazy dreams in the astronomy tower and trips to the Forbidden Forest that left her shivering. Her parents greatly disapproved but she was happy with them. They gave her room to breathe; backed off and respected her. They didn’t care about her family — they only mentioned them once or twice. Victoire learned to speak her mind and can be brutally honest at times.
She can be blunt and inconsiderate of other’s feelings though depending on her mood, she can be warm; sweet-natured.
P L O T I D E A S —
☓ — Bound By Blood: [/weasleywolfhowl] God, I just want family feels. Angst galore. Anything works though I'd love a relative Victoire never got along with. As children they'd kick each other under the table and leave scratch marks on each other — as adults they're not much more mature. They just run in different circles and desperately clash whenever the two come in contact. But really, any sort of family plot would be wonderful.
☓ — We are the reckless, we are the wild youth: Victoire has one best friend — the one person she can truly trust, love and let her hair down around. To be honest, I'd love a friendship based off of this. Something really fluffy and fun for both of us and just some stellar interactions. Gender doesn't matter and if a family member wanted to do this that's totally cool too! I also like the idea of a group of three so it's Victoire and two other people — a brot3.
☓ — Burnt like a Supernova: I'm a big fan of romantic plots that are very much we almost were. Shy glances turned to flirty comebacks but for whatever super painful reason they never became anything more. Or perhaps a relationship that lasted about two weeks but the flame burnt up quicker than expected and now they're forced together in some awkward situation.
( These are just some ideas but I'm absolutely up for anything and everything! I adore plotting from scratch! )
PLAYED BY: CHRISSY. 17. FEMALE PRONOUNS. ANGST ADDICT. GMT.
