Wizarding Realm -> Victoria Isley
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 Victoria Isley
Victoria Isley
 Posted: Jun 19 2017, 12:01 PM
Quote

" I'm scared to get close and I hate being alone"

AGE:
15
YEAR:
5th
HOUSE:
Hufflepuff
CLASH:
Aegis
HEIGHT:
5'10"
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
155
Rep: 2 pts [ + | - ]

Victoria Isley
© Storm //
Awards: 11



THE UGLY SORTING APP


Name: Victoria Isley
Age: 15
Bloodline: Pureblood
Do you have more than one character? If yes, did you get permission to make this one, and from which admin?:Yes, I shelved Luci with permission from Emilex <3

Appearance:

Victoria has eyes like a moonless night sky, both shrouded in darkness and yet so full of life. And it had been the eyes mirror the soul had it not? Although there is darkness in her gaze there was also passion and love with a touch of chaos. In some ways it was as if those dark eyes had already seen too much of the world, already wary of the shadows that lurked around the corners. Dark hair, almost black accompanies her dark gaze. Almost matching in color if not for the highlights within the dark strands. The ballerina has always had a gentle way of doing things, from the way she smiles to the soft tone that generally accompanies her words. Even with all the height the girl has acquired, Tori is otherwise lacking in most other areas. There are no curves to her outline, straight lines and edges make of her silhouette. Of course she tries to hide it, tries to keep the questions at bay and to go unnoticed by those that surround her on a daily basis. Even with hiding behind over sized sweaters and loose clothes, it would be hard to miss that Ted Isley’s daughter is too thin.

Personality:

Growing up in the shadow of a name, Victoria grew to become quite outspoken much to her parents disapproval. All the girl really ever wanted was to have a voice, and not to be silenced simply because she was a girl. Unlike her brother and the rest of her family, Tori did not believe herself to be above anyone. People were people, regardless of what their blood type or species was. Being treated as a lesser person did little to change the girl’s mind on this matter, even if she was a single voice in a crowd Tori would make a point of being heard. No one can be free when someone is being oppressed, and it was something that she herself knew to be true. It was beyond her why most of the pureblood girls that she knew just simply went along with whatever they were told to do.Girls were controlled down to the very core, expected to act a specific way and to be seen and not heard. At least her brother had never expected that of her, even if he was a bit big headed when it came to other things.

Tori is generally tolerant of most people, it takes someone really pushing her buttons to get her angry enough to do something other than a witty comment here and there. Although there are many people that she will happily talk to, and even enjoy speaking with, it is a bit hard to become a permanent fixture in her life. Tori has a close circle of friends that she holds close, and happily protects from any would be assailants. Though, honestly to date she had never had to fight anyone off for her friends. Mostly because Durmstrang seemed to run off a pecking order, and TJ and Sev had always maintained a spot where most feared crossing them. Its the thought that counts though, right? That she would defend them if they needed her protection. They had already lost Sig, Tori was not going to let any of her other friends meet their end. Not with her just standing around anyway.

When faced with a decision, as to whether to follow her pureblood upbringing or to do what she feels is right, Tori will always turn her back on tradition. You could say this hasn’t always worked out in her favor, ever actually. Even those that are closest to her are elitist beyond comfort, and more than once the girl has found herself at the end of a stern talking to. People telling her that she is wrong just because it goes against elitist ways have never been treated kindly. Tori can be a bitch, quite frankly, when someone wants to feed her a load of bull. Placing her words carefully and manipulatively for the most damage, the girl certainly isn’t afraid to go toe to toe with anyone who wants to question her. Although she can keep her cool with someone poking fun, or making jabs, once angry you would have a hard time getting her to back down. Its been said that the wrath of a angry Spanish girl is one not to be played with, in Victoria’s case it would seem like even just having half the Spanish blood would be enough to have her following in her ancestors steps.

Truthfully, the times she has to resort to being snarky are few and far in between. Most of her friends know better by now, or at least they are more careful about shoving their ideals down her throat. Other than the occasional confrontation the girl is generally sweet and kind to those that don’t make it a point to piss her off. Even if she does not know the solution to every problem, Tori has always been good at listening. Sometimes just being heard, and letting someone know that they have a voice could do far more good than any shot in the dark to fix their problem. Tori thought so anyway, there would always be those that disagreed with her.


Character Background:

Many things can come from a name, especially in the wizarding world. Some names carried shame and their ancestors traitorous acts, while others were thought to be above all else. Isley had always been a well known family name, they were known to only marry their children off to those of equal purity. Ted Isley would find his young self matched up with a fiery young spanish girl. With only the holidays to get to know one another, it wasn’t a marriage that was formed out of love but necessity. Charlotte Santiago would go on to graduate Beauxbatons, marrying into the Isley’s a few months later and joining her ambitious husband in London. It would be a long tedious climb through the ranks of the ministry, but eventually Ted Isley would find himself sitting just where he had always aspired to be. Minister of Magic, the title had come with a long to do list, to include being well liked in the public eye. Sure the Isley’s were elitist behind closed doors, but to the public eye Ted Isley fought for equality for all.

Ted and Charlotte Isley would not settle in and have children until the exact right time, TJ would be born roughly nine months after the election, with Victoria following a year later. Together the Isley children would grow up, partners in the double life they found themselves immersed in. Her brother would be her closest friend, always following him around and trying to act like him when she had been younger. With age the girl would develop quite the independent streak, always making sure that her parents heard her voice. She was a person too, and Tori would not be the one that got lost in the background like so many other girls she saw. Always expected to just do as they were told, and act pleasantly in the company of others, even when they were being rude. You could say Ted Isley did not take kindly to having a defiant child, especially a outspoken daughter.

After two terms in office Ted Isley would retire from Minister of Magic, taking the time to mold his kids into the next generation of Isley’s and follow in his footsteps. TJ had been six while Tori was five, suddenly finding themselves pushed even further into the pureblood community. While her brother seemed to enjoy elitism and all that went with it, she had always been a bit more weary of it. Though at the age of five she hadn’t really known exactly what had made her drag her heels about all of it. Being a girl in a traditional pureblood family was not ideal, not for her anyway, especially as she watched as her brother was treated completely differently. Somehow everyone just expected her to be happy with whatever they decided was best for her, and worst of all they expected her to stay quiet. Well TJ didn’t, he brother had always looked at her as more than just a girl. It was like having a single person who believed you could be so much more, and it was the boy’s confidence in her that helped Tori become even stronger and more stubborn than she already way.

From an early age, Victoria Isley has had a mission, to be known as more than a girl. For her family to hear her voice and not look at her with contempt. It was never an easy fight, always finding herself being sent to her room instead of getting to have her say over the dinner table. Most nights her brother would sneak down the hall and into her room, sometimes with a snack if he could get to the kitchens and back. Through the night they would talk about everything father had taught him, discussing the historical relevance of wars through the wizarding history. However it would not be the girl’s sharp mind or wit that would gain her their father’s respect, no it would be something that threatened the family name. Time and time again, boys would come to meet the girl and leave with their tails tucked as they tried to leave as quickly as possible. Ted Isley would agree to allowing his daughter join them for discussions, he even promised to help her get any job her little heart desired -- with the exception of minister of magic- as long as she stopped chasing suitors from the house.

Even if she didn’t want to be married off, without her thoughts ever being considered, it was too good of an opportunity to give up. Most of the boys that she knew already would have thought twice about ever talking down to her anyway, how bad could it possibly be? For awhile there had been talk about Severin Larsson, and really the girl had simply avoided that whole idea. Sure she got along with Severin, but they had grown up together and Tori looked at him as an older brother more than anything else. TJ had already been arranged to marry Sig, couldn’t they just forget about marrying her off?

The year TJ went off to Durmstrang was the worst, not only did her brother leave but so did everyone else. Severin, TJ and Petra were all the same age with Sig being a year older and already gone. It just meant that she would be alone, or trying to play nice to whoever her father was interested in her marrying. It would be a lonely year, filled with plenty of owls and even more time in the library as she brushed up on her knowledge so that her brother wouldn’t be that far ahead of her. True to their agreement, even with TJ gone lessons continued and Tori got her chance to shine.

As expected her own owl from Durmstrang would come on her eleventh birthday, though she would not have anyone to run to and share with. It marked her time alone as an end, the young girl quietly waiting at the breakfast table for her parents to join her before presenting her letter as she watched their faces, the approving glow that hardly ever went with anything she did. That look was almost solely reserved for her brother, not that it was his fault, she never held it against him. With a quiet mask of indifference the girl listened as they planned out the day to get school supplies. Oh joy, she wished TJ was here but it looked like she was going to be spending the afternoon with her parents.

At the beginning of the next year, Tori would find herself joining her brother and childhood friends in Durmstrang. Everything would fall into place, being the sweetest of the bunch she would find herself being the ears of TJ and Sev. Always keeping an ear out for anyone who spoke against them, they had to stick together, Durmstrang was a dog eat dog world and no one wanted to be left on their own in such a place. As they got older Victoria Isley would become someone that few wanted to mess with, not that she herself was notoriously spiteful, there were others that were a little bit overprotective of the girl.

Everything would change during her fifth year, first a cold blooded murder that was far too close to home for comfort. The Larssons had always been like a second family, an extension of her own. Tori remembered trying to talk to Sev, but it just seemed like her words had fallen on deaf ears and the boy refused to look at her. Victoria, along with her family would attend the burial and service, her brother and parents stone faced and cold just like the perfect family they were expected to be. Emotions were dangerous in her world, always with the possibility of being seen as weakness. So it was herself and her brother often withdrew instead of letting anything crack the mask of perfection that they had been raised to wear.

It wasn’t fair really, but Tori didn’t know how else to respond. It was really the only way she had known. Severin was gone, like a vacant seat at the table, she felt it everyday but distanced herself from losing him too. Although Sev was not dead, he was gone to her in a way, and perhaps she silently grieved for him as well. Theodore continued to receive owls from the swede, while she instead found herself just sending her wishes at the end of TJs owls, a tiny and Victoria wishes you well at the end of the pages they would send each other. It made her feel pathetic, not knowing how to talk to the boy that she had always known and grown up with.

Just when i seemed like things could not have gotten any worse, well they did. Ten fold. In the middle of the night she would find herself unexpectedly being dragged from her bed, the sound of her wand snapping as a hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. The rest was a blur of being dragged from the castle and away. Although she did not remember falling asleep the night before, and only vaguely of being drug from her bed, Tori would find herself locked away in a dungeon. For the most part, she was alone, the very bare essentials being provided. Most that came by did not bother talking to her, ignoring the questions the girl repeated. Why would they have even wanted her? Tori was not really much of anything really, not to her parents anyway, TJ was the one that would carry on the family name.

There was one person who talked to her, and Victoria found herself suddenly clinging to this person who treated her like a person. Andrew was special, he was kind despite the fact that she was a prisoner and he saw her for more than just being an Isley. He knew and liked her for being herself, and that meant more to the girl then anything. Nothing in the world compared to being accepted as a person, and despite her current predicament Tori would find a little bit of happiness in her life. After a few months in captivity, and getting to know Andrew, the boy would selflessly help her escape from captivity. Little did anyone on the outside know, Tori had fallen head over heels for the boy who liked her for being Victoria and didn’t care what her last name was, and secretly the two started dating. It was scandalous, an Isley dating a werewolf, and yet Tori didn’t care. Pureblood tradition had always been the thing to drag her down and make her less of a person, Andrew had done the opposite. For that and her freedom the boy had her complete loyalty. As authorities questioned who had taken her the girl pulled out the perfected mask of perfection, quietly telling them that she did not know. Sure the Whelans were suspected, but she would not give them away.

She couldn’t give Andrew away.



The Sorting Hat is placed on your head. What are you thinking at that moment?: I don’t mind really, you're the expert here, but I suppose if I had a request just put me with those who seek to do the right thing? Is there a house for that?
Special Request (available at Novice**) None

OOC Name: Storm
How did you find out about Wizarding Realm? Once upon a time I asked the google gods for a home, and ta da Wurr popped up.

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Victoria Isley
 Posted: Jul 1 2017, 01:29 PM
Quote

" I'm scared to get close and I hate being alone"

AGE:
15
YEAR:
5th
HOUSE:
Hufflepuff
CLASH:
Aegis
HEIGHT:
5'10"
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
155
Rep: 2 pts [ + | - ]

Victoria Isley
© Storm //
Awards: 11



Victoria Alejandra Isley
Hufflepuff
Fifteen
Pureblood


Appearance
    There had always been a gentle type of chaos the surrounded Victoria, so easily falling into the background while the stars demanded attention. The stars were unlike the moon in that they were not gentle companions of the night but instead burning furiously against time as they died. The skies were simply their graveyard while for the moon such a place was a prison, a place she so desperately sought to escape. And so the ballerina would spend the nights silently taking gentle steps across the skies in search of somewhere safe, in search of someone who could make such a place less terrifying. It was as if she moved weightlessly, like a discarded feather simply caught in the breeze. And like the moon she was always transforming into something else, shrinking away as the shadows played off her insecurities. The moon did not see herself as beautiful, and perhaps she was not even in the eyes of others. If only the ballerina could have let go but to let go was to surrender the one thing that had always been there. And the ballerina was lithe and tall as if at any moment she could have gently plucked the stars from the sky. Through it all, no matter what the badger would refuse to give up the one singular thing that granted her control. Not all demons were so bad she thought, as at times it would seem like the lesser evil that existed within herself. And so the girl would dress in oversized sweaters, layers of clothes covering the body that she was so ashamed of. And at times she would feel weightless, as if gravity had forgotten to keep her feet on the ground. Even with her feet planted firmly on the ground it was as if the ballerina could have reached up and gently plucked the stars from the sky if only she had desired to do so, for while she was small in so many other ways the ballerina's height had always reached for the stars.

    It would always seem that while those around her were painted with thoughts of the sky and the sea in mind, her very own painting was comprised of the warm earthy tones that breathed life into the crisp autumn days. The ballerina had always admired those with eyes that shone like the bright summer sky reflected within the sea, and they all seemed to have hair that spoke of the sun. These people had always seemed so beautiful to her, such things that were not meant for someone like herself. It would always be the flaws and imperfections that would scream at her from the mirror, so easily overshadowing all that could have been beautiful. Instead of having hair that sung praises to the sun or eyes that held the beauty of the sea Victoria had been granted what would always seem like just shadows in comparison to such things. There was no sunshine within her hair, only the dark roasted coffee that frequented the mug that sat within her father’s office, she simply could not see the beauty of such things. And she had a warm smile to match, a smile that was always closed for the badger had always thought her smile looked off. All this with eyes like the darkest of nights, such things could not speak of the summer days that seemed to illuminate her friends.

    There would always seem to be ways to hide within plain sight, to not completely disappear from the lives of all those she loved. So the ballerina would hide beneath layers of clothes and oversized sweaters that both kept the cold at bay and prying eyes away. Such things would always seem like both a shield from people and from the cold. Victoria was always cold, always fighting to keep from shivering despite the warmth of even the summer days. The lightest of breezes could send a chill down her bony spine. Long flowing sleeves would seem like a sanctuary for hands that had seen better days, both torn from battling with the steel strings of her violin and marked with violent displays of desperation. Just as it would seem such things would start to slowly heal, they would once again break open. And while the badger’s taste in clothing would always teeter between the muted neutrals and bright splashes of colors her makeup would be a different story. Eyes always gently lined with winged liner with the soft warm tones to complement the ballerina’s lightly sun kissed skin. At times she would simply be too tired for all of it, instead opting for hoodies and warm pants, a pair of yellow flannel pajama pants amongst her favorites to wear on such days.

    The weight of the world could grow so heavy over time, becoming unbearable as the ballerina would tremble beneath it. Victoria did not see herself as beautiful, and while she resembled someone who could have been in different circumstances there was something about such a thing that felt like control. Of course for someone like the badger, there was very little that felt in her control and how terrible it was to feel out of control. Perhaps that was why the ballerina clung to the one thing that had always been there through the darkest of time, when nothing else could calm the trembling in the night. It did not matter that such a thing had robbed the ballerina of her beauty, or that such a thing was simple a slow drawn out suicide. And so her hair would grow brittle in time, falling from her scalp without regard to what society saw as beautiful. It was not as simple as simple her hair, as such things rarely came alone, as the cold would seep into her bones and call the place home. The once sunkissed skin had grown pale, her face gaunt and full of exhaustion, it was so easy to grow tired.

    And like the moon the girl was not whole, not always complete… and yet the ballerina would still rise to dance amongst the stars all the same for one did not have to be unbroken to merely survive.

Personality
    And if one could only see the things the way the moon did…

    In many ways Victoria was like the moon, watching the world pass her by with eyes like the tragic night sky. As if already they had seen too much chaos in the world to ever settle. All the beautiful stars within the sky, so full of brilliant possibilities and it was things such as this that would always light a fire within the girl. For the ballerina was a passionate person, for the eyes mirrored the soul did they not? A soul so full of gentle love and yet so afraid of fear all at once. Oh and what a wild soul, embracing all the chaos of the stars, so ready to rebel against all that lurked within the night. There would always be a fear within the girl, built out of insecurity and cultivated in self-doubt, so afraid to of the brilliance that might have been waiting for her. The mortal world could not handle the chaotic stars, the way such things could both bring such beauty and destruction at the same time. And while Victoria’s eyes held the chaos of the night sky her heart would always hold the love between the moon and the sea. Just as the sea would always chase after the moon, the ballerina chased after her dreams even as they too always seemed just out of read. Unattainable dreams, just as the sea would never find the moon, the ballerina would never be like the sea; she would never be free.

    There would always be too much hurt in the world, this the girl had come to understand and yet could not separate herself from such things. The ballerina felt too much, too intensely connected to it all because in the end she cared too much about those who did not care at all. In a way she felt connected to it all, just as the darkness knits the moon and the stars together each night. There would be times when the ballerina so desperately needed the comfort of another, and yet all too often she would find herself alone. Unable to break through her own insecurities to burden another with her problems. Locked in the seclusion of her own mind, lost in the outside world that would fall away into the background. And it was in these times when poetry would pour from her fingertips, scratched into parchment as if the words had been carved into the fragile bones of the ballerina.

    The moon would always have a gentle way of appearing within the night just as the Spaniard was gentle despite the coarse edges of her existence, not hardened by the fears and insecurities of the world. And maybe it was these insecurities that made the dark-haired girl so perceptive to those around her, easily connecting to such feelings and gently offering comfort to all those who needed it. At times it was simply because the thin badger could never turn a blind eye to those around her, it just was not in her nature to ignore the suffering of others no matter how big or small. In the end it was also something that would secretly destroy her as she would never be able to only give a little bit of herself to another, always giving all of herself to all without discrimination. It was something that she would never be able to understand, the way someone could destroy another person without a single thought, easily crumbling the world and leaving the rubble for others to sift through to find the pieces of what once was. It was the way of the world, everyone was broken or had been broken at some point in time and Tori could understand that. The silent language that connected them all on common ground. And the pieces never quite went back together the same ways, sometimes it was better that way she thought. It was the strength through healing that build one into a stronger version of their former self, or at least that was what the badger liked to believe. It made everything seem a little bit softer, a little less cruel. There would always be a storm on the horizon that waited to rip one down, dragging the pieces out to sea. The Hufflepuff would always be the calm within the storm, offering sanctuary to those who needed a place to rest, for all those that feared the pounding of the rain and the power of the sea, such things would always destroy even the bravest of souls for they were but mortals trying to fight against gods.

    Even with the calm there would always be something that lurked below the surface, waiting for when it was needed. At times even the sturdy rock could be reduced to sand in time and such things were not lost on the girl. Victoria had a fierce heart, so passionately devoted to all that she loved and cared for. So deeply connected to it all, to the existence of loved ones as if their fates had been long ago intertwined and bound together through time. Losing any of them would have been losing the world, losing the meaning of her existence. Within the fragile cage of the girl there was a heart that would at times roar, rattling the bones that held it prisoner. It was such a delicate thing, for even the strong could grow weak. So fragile the ballerina was, oh how breakable she had become over the years. Shame would always be a powerful emotion, turning all around it dark. It could undo the bindings of what holds one together, leaving just the unraveled mess for the world to see. The ballerina was ashamed of her existence, of all the things that she could not fix despite her efforts. It was this deep seated shame, this insecurity that aided the world in making her feel ugly. Making her feel unworthy of love, how ugly the world could be preying on the insecurities of others. It would always be those that illuminated the darkness that would suffer the most, so easily targeted and so easily destroyed by those that were simply cruel.

    And although the girl had a gentle nature, there would always be a place within that held onto anger. She was not quick to anger, and yet such things had a tendency to linger over time, brewing into grief for not being able to let go of such things. It had always seemed like anger was what fueled those that were weak of heart, the one thing that could destroy everything in an instant without there ever being a second thought. It is not often that she expresses anger, but when those feelings bubble over there would always be words that could never be taken back. In the moment anger would always feel justified, it was often in the aftermath that the badger would regret such things. At times such things did not matter, for the badger simply could not stand by and say nothing when those who preyed on the weak would not see reason, would not see the that words could destroy a person. The ballerina would always speak up even if she was but a single voice in a crowd that did not want to listen. In her mind, it was always those capable of forgiveness that were the true heroes of the world, the heroes that the world deserved and yet so rarely saw. In the end of it all, the only thing the ballerina had ever desired was to have a voice. To have a voice and to be heard despite the chaos of the world around her. It was not so much to ask was it? Perhaps it was a selfish thing to desire, but a life without purpose was no life at all.


Background
    Not all things in the world that grow in the darkness are inherently dark themselves, and such was the case when it came to Cecilia Marzán. The girl’s childhood would be filled with sunshine and the warm summer breezes of Spain, and yet such things were not also so warm or bright when it came to family life. In some ways it just seemed to be the way the world worked, balance to all things that existed. For where there was light, darkness must have also existed or such a thing would not have been so cherished. Life was not always as it seemed, and to the outsider looking in one would have thought that Cecilia Marzán had it all. The perfect life in a perfectly constructed world. It was not as it seemed though and it did not take long for the dark haired child to learn that the world could be an incredibly cruel place. It was often the softest of souls, those of gentle kindness that suffered the most. There would always be a single saving grace within such a world, the silver lining that illuminated the dark clouds that always seemed to roll in from the horizon. Isabel, the sister that a young Celia would both love dearly, and ultimately lose to the greed of their father. These were not the ideal children for someone of such power, for not only were they not son but they also were not ideal daughters as well. While Isabel had been ill ever since childhood, Celia simple would not bend to their father’s will. The girl was far too rebellious, too outspoken to be left to her own devices. And so it was, the Marzán daughters would live their childhood days within the villas in Spain, only traveling by portkey between locations and never staying in one place for too long. It was not a bad life, the summers were warm and the smell of the sea was always in the air.

    Life with Isabel was like always having the sun to outshine the storms that brewed in the distance, the girls would always be close. At times they would simply sit within the gardens, talking until the sun had long ago gone to sleep until someone ushered them to bed. Even after the lights had long been turned out, Celia would sneak down the hall to join Isabel during the night, quietly whispering secrets with only the moon as their night light. Such happy times would never be meant to last, as it would seem her dear sister’s failing health would not allow her to attend Beauxbatons. And so a few years following the decision for Isabel to remain safely in Spain, Celia would be leaving for wizarding school. It was not how it was suppose to be, not how she had envisioned going to school as those stories had always had Isabel there by her side. For the first time in her life, there would not be an Isabel to brighten her day. It was a sad day in what they had built up to be their own paradise. The girls promised to write everyday, Celia sharing the adventures of Beauxbatons through letters as Isabel would keep her younger sister in the loop of what was going on back in Spain. Every holiday, every break and every reason there was to leave school the rebellious girl would come back to her sister with stories to tell and more independent than before.

    Of course there was love in the world, but such a thing was not meant for girls like Cecilia. No she would need a husband that could both keep her inline and further the political ties for the Marzán family. That after all was her purpose it would seem. The Isley’s had always been influential in the pureblood community, and actively involved in politics of the ministry. Such a marriage would benefit both families, and so the girl would find herself engaged to Theodore Isley III. Of course such things did not occur quietly and without protest, seeking comfort in Isabel when all else failed. It was not that this Ted was hard on the eyes, or cruel to her, no it was much bigger than that. As a child the girl had always lived in a world of fairy tales with happy ending. Such things were simply not meant to be, those things only existed upon the pages of story books and within her own mind it would seem.

    It was not like the boy was a bad match, not he came from a strong and influential family, it just was not off the pages of a story book was all. The Isleys had long ago snaked their way into politics, always a hand in the cookie jar so to say when it came to dealing with the ministry. Insiders that put on a show to stay in the good graces of those they saw as simple sheep, and they the shepherds that would ultimately lead their followers to meet their end. It was never anything that could be traced back to them, always a terrible tragedy that just so happened to occur to those who were in ill favor of the family. Of course such things were not entirely known to the public, only those within a close circle of families that sought to keep pureblood families in power. And so the Isley’s frequently went to support muggleborn rights, taking action to promote the acceptance of beasts and creatures, and yet behind closed doors they would take off the mask of public defender. Years ago, the great grandfather of Ted Isley had been Minister of Magic of Britain, and the boy had high aspirations to follow in those footsteps. Ted Isley would prove to be charismatic, a natural born leader when he needed to be. There was a secret to the way of the Isley’s though, one that gave such a family the upper hand when it came to convincing others for the need to change policies. Many that found their way into the ministry and politics just so happened to also be empaths, using it to manipulate emotions. Being able to either calm or enrage one’s audience was the driving force behind some policy changes, changes that would leave a loophole for the Isley’s and those they were close with to do as they saw was fit.

    It was only natural for such families as the Isley’s and the Marzán’s to join forces, as such things would benefit the cause of both.

    Ted and Celia would use the holidays in their final years of school to get to know each other, different worlds colliding for the very first time. Celia was like the hot summer sands that covered the beaches, and yet Ted was like the sea; both able to be calm and serene at times with moments of rage that would sink invading ships. In a way, they worked perfectly together, playing off each others emotions and providing stability to each other. A marriage that had been formed out of necessity rather than love, as it would turn out, did not have to be the end of a dream. Together they would take on the world, together they could make the world bend to their will. They became a team, full of ambitions and aspirations. It would be a tedious climb through the ranks of the Ministry, shaking hands and offering smiles at all the right moments to the right people. In due time Ted Isley would find himself exactly where he had always aspired to be, the Minister of Magic with Cecilia by his side.

    Everything had it’s place and time, and children would not enter their life until Ted had secured the seat of British Minister of Magic for himself. Like clockwork, roughly nine months following the election Theodore Isley IV would come into the world. And how proud they were to have a son, someone to carry on the Isley name and to someday make them proud. It would only be a year later that Victoria would be born, joining her brother in the double life that came with being an Isley. Of course there was sibling rivalry, especially when it came to gaining the affections of their father who seemed to prefer TJ. Such was the life she had been born into, imperfectly born into a world meant for the perfect ones. It may have been this sense of rejection that pushed the girl to become so independent, so defiantly going against all stereotypes that would be thrown at her. Then again, Cecilia had never been the ideal daughter either and maybe she saw a bit of her rebellious youth in her daughter. It would always be her mother that would smooth over the the rips and tears that formed between father and daughter, encouraging them to make amends. Even so it would always be TJ that she would seek out for comfort, finding solace in the one that shadowed her somehow. Maybe it was because the blame was not his to carry, or perhaps it was because it was hard to hate someone who tried to be the voice of reason in a world that did not make sense.

    Sometimes the only way to survive was to lose oneself, to allow something else to fill all the empty spaces. Just as the moon would lose herself in the stars, for sometimes even love was not enough; the ballerina would lose herself in the music. It was like the blood in her veins, the pulse that proved that life did in fact exist. In time the tiny ballerina would silently traverse through the skies, defying the darkness that tried to stomp out the spark that lived within. As with all things those first few steps had been clumsy as small feet learned to work themselves in ballet slippers, in time the sloppy steps would evolve into graceful, flowing movements. It was as if the ballerina would become weightless, nothing more than a delicate feather following a warm summer breeze. In some ways the moon was different from all else that existed around her. The moon did not accept that darkness was all that there was, Victoria was confident that if one would simply look to the stars that they too would see that there could be beauty despite darkness. For even when darkness tried to consume the world, they would always shine just like the pieces of sacrificed stars that lived within them all.

    Not all things that come to an end are bad, sometimes it is just the beginning of something new and exciting. A new chapter in life with its very own reason for existing. Following the retirement of Ted Isley, the family would move to Sweden and into one of the estates that had been in the family for generations. It was a glimpse into history, generations of family that had come to pass lining the walls in portraits. Old runes lined the doorways to bedrooms, and more specifically an old office that would come to hold all the secrets that had been kept in the dark. Of course there was a single feature of the home that stood out to the young girl, dark eyes wide in both awe and uncertainty. Within the archway to home resides a carved basilisk, runes etched within the scales and jeweled eyes that seemed to be always watching. In some ways the snake offered comfort, as it seemed to be something that would protect the family and yet… Victoria could not shake the feeling that something such as this was not entirely innocent.

    In these new lands that brought flower crowns and celebrations around bonfires, the friends that had once only been like a glimpse within her life would grow into a permanent fixture. And although the ballerina was meant to play with the girls and to attend classes based around etiquette and such things, it was not what she desired in life. It was not uncommon for the slender girl to slip away from these classes to run barefoot through the gardens, playing vikings with her brother and friends. Severin had always been TJ’s best friend, and yet in a way the boy also became like a brother to her. The Larssons would always feel like an extension of her own family, and of course there was Erik. Warm summer afternoons spent braiding flowers into each others hair or taking her own dolls hostage in their games. It was an innocent time, when nothing seemed to matter as it was easy to shrug off the pressures of her parents when it felt as if the night had become so full of the stars she held so dearly.

    It would always be at dusk when the sun and the moon would meet, two worlds colliding for the very first time. In time the ballerina would learn that peace could live within the chaos, and it came to her in the form of Mars. It was her dearest cousin that could shine so brightly, so easily bringing a smile to the ballerina’s face. In a way the boy was all that she envied, and all that the dark haired girl knew that she would never be. For the sun could shine ever so brightly despite the darkness while the moon at times would hide from all those that cared for her. The moon could not handle the shame that sat within her, for shame was a terrible thing to carry all on one’s own. The moon was not so powerful, for at times she would borrow light from the sun to keep the darkness away. And for the first time the ballerina felt noticed for all that she was, for all that she could have been and together they were like the sun and the moon laughing at the sky. It was easy to smile when the world around them seemed to fade into the background, to enjoy life simply as it was and not to worry of all the things that lurked within the night.

    Such things were never meant to last though, and in time all those that had once kept the darkness out would leave the moon to fend for herself. It was in the absence of the sun that the night would consume that moon, robbing the ballerina of her innocence and what had once made her so pure of heart. Oh how the night polluted the moon against herself, playing off her insecurities until all confidence had withered away into the shadows of the galaxy. In those times Victoria had never felt so alone, banished to suffer in isolation from those who had once vowed to fight against the skies that threatened to consume them all. It would seem that when it rained it poured, poison running through the gardens to corrode away the happiness that had once grown there. The laughter of what once was vanished into the darkness. So innocent they had been in such a treacherous world, where the promises of children were destined to die in a single breath., the graceful footsteps that had once traversed across the skies so blissfully seemed to fade from the world into silence. It crept into her veins, all consuming, killing the garden that the sun and the moon had once created together allowing the weeds to invade and take over the decaying territory. Even so, the moon could not accept defeat, and so despite the darkness flowers would bloom from fragile bones to provide momentary beauty within something that had become so rotten. Such things were not meant to last though, and the flowers would wilt within the starving garden. So the moon would starve, withering away until there was nothing left to save, for the moon did not want to be saved. The child from the gardens had long ago vanished, becoming nothing but a faded memory that had been devoured by the darkness. All that remained were the bones that guarded the moon’s tormented soul. The moon would fail to shine without all those that had once surrounded the girl, the empty night sky suddenly so lonely.

    Once upon a time a letter had come to inform all that Victoria Isley had been accepted into Durmstrang, to school with those of the purest of blood. There would be no one to run to, no one to enjoy the moment with. It was bittersweet, a chance to run away from all that haunted her and yet it meant going away to a place that turned away so many. It seemed a shame for someone that viewed all as equals, for all people felt the same and all would bleed just the same as the rest. It made little sense to the ballerina why such a thing as a name would carry such weight, and yet it was a weight the girl had always felt. At times such a thing could be crushing when all she wanted to do was spread her wings and to fly far away from it all. At least Durmstrang would be far away from her father, far away from those who looked down upon the girl that did not fit into their perfect box. There had always been letters within that lonely year, letters that would come from far away places as if all those that had once existed within her world had gone off to live within galaxies on the other side of the universe. At least in the following year she would once again be united with all those that she held so dearly. All but one, as Mars did not attend Durmstrang.

    It would not be hard to adjust to life away from home, as finally after a long awaited departure the youngest Isley would arrive at Durmstrang. It was easy to fall into a routine, to follow along with the flow of the school. With her brother and friends by her side the ballerina felt invincible within a sea of students, it would seem her brother and Severin had already established themselves at Durmstrang. It would seem that even though the ballerina was a soft soul, most knew not to mess with the girl. Such a thing would have been unwise, and it would have been unkind. It was not a surprise that the world seemed to be full of unkind people that lived within a world that could be so cruel at times, it just seemed to fit together like the broken pieces of a discarded puzzle. When it came to those closest to her, Tori would have done anything to ensure their safety. Even so, the thin girl was not much of a fighter as violence was not in her nature. Of course hot works would occasionally come about in heated moments, full of passion and shining with the love for those that dared to shine within the night sky with her. The ballerina may not have been a worthy opponent to many, but those that surrounded the girl were. The moon once again had the stars by her side and the sea below, balance once again had been restored within her life and that darkness would fade away.

    The stars were not meant to shine solely for them, as such things would have been selfish. It did not mean that she did not wish that such a thing was possible, as laughter would fade from the world and grief would take its place. It seemed to touch all, tainting the world around them until all that had once shined turned to stone. And the blood would run coldly from their veins in what would seem to be a mindless murder, slain in cold blood. Those that had once been like an extension of her own family, those that the ballerina had held so dearly and close to her heart would fade away from life and leave more questions then answers. Memories of those who had once been a part of her life had been pressed into her mind and soul like flowers safely pressed between the pages of a beloved book.

    Not all had been lost in that single night, and yet at the same time in a way it had. While Severin was very much alive and breathing, it felt as if she had also lost him as well. So suddenly it felt as if the distance between them spanned galaxies, the moon could not reach him as such things simply seemed out of reach. Tears for the fallen would fall like raindrops in an endless storm. Sometimes it was all one could offer to those that had so tragically left this world for the next. It was easy to get lost in grief, as if such a powerful emotion was a tidal wave and the only option was to drown within it. Within the sudden vacancy of her heart, all the Spaniard could remember so vividly was their last goodbye and the pain of watching him walk away as if they had never shared a life together. Grief it would seem was an ocean, drowning all those caught in the riptide and dragging them away from the shoreline. At times it felt like drowning, as if the world was just too much to bear all at once. And yet, sometimes drowning was the only way to learn to swim.

    Each day the moon would die a little more, losing pieces of herself along the way; and yet the moon did not see the grim in the night. For each time the ballerina would find herself falling apart she knew it was just like the stars. Pieces would fall into the night sky like stars that dared to cast themselves from the heavens, Victoria felt just like a rebellious star and found comfort in such a thought. Just like the stars that would self destruct in brilliant and terrifying ways, only to be reborn out of star dust just to haunt the night skies.

    Everything would become a blur, the last memories of Durmstrang surrounded in fear as shadows came to life. She remembers the smell of smoke and the sound of her own wand snapping within her grasp, the jolts of a dying wand running through her body before everything would fade away into darkness. Lingering memories of a place that had once felt safe suddenly so tarnished, corroded within a single moment. Former Minister of Magic Isley’s daughter vanishes without a trace, and yet the girl would know nothing of the efforts from those that worked to rescue her from such a fate.

    And darkness rolled into her life as if the sun had suddenly lost the war with the night, collapsing into the cold darkness and fading away from the world that surrounded the girl. The warmth that the world had once held vanished, just the same as Victoria vanished from existence without a trace. The innocence of the world suddenly lost, the moon stolen from the night and locked away from the world that had once adored the gentle glow within the night. One would find that in the darkness there are no companions, only isolation, only the screaming within one's own mind to drown out the silence. Such things were no different for the girl, reality bending the rules of time and what once had been could never again be the same. In the shadows of her mind - within the twisted reality that had become life - Victoria questioned if anyone had ever really loved her, questioned her own existence within the world. Would they even bother to look for her, or just call it a tragic casualty? It was easy to feel forgotten, as if the world had only paused for a moment of silence before continuing on with life. Trapped in the darkness and surrounded by only isolation and the screaming thoughts that brewed within her own mind, the darkness of the world suddenly felt timeless and everlasting.

    It was in those moments that stretched into the timeless night -that hung so heavily in the air, so heavily on one’s soul- the girl had never felt so broken. Oh how breakable the ballerina had become, how lost she felt even within the confines of her own mind, as if the Spaniard had never even truly known herself at all. And it was like waiting for two worlds to collide, for the sun and the moon to eclipse at just the right moment. It felt like a moment that would never come, just as the warmth of the world that had forgotten her felt so far away, just a distant memory of distant times. In those long moments of waiting it was as if Victoria had already died a hundred times over within her own mind. And yet this existence -or lack therefore of- would not allow her to escape, for the moon would forever be a prisoner of the night.

    At times it would seem like silence was the loudest sound in the galaxy, silence that spanned across galaxies and linked the stars together. And yet as the world around the moon erupted back into life all she could do was wish for the silence to return. Or at least for the world to be just a little quieter. It was all a blue of colors and sounds, everything felt foreign and unknown. It was like being shoved back into existence, the moon so casually thrown back into the sky and somehow expected to act as if none of this had ever happened. As if nothing at all had changed, and yet it had all changed. It felt as if the only way to survive was to withdraw away from it all, to shy away from those that had questions. It was not like the ballerina had any answers anyway, how sad was that? To return with nothing to offer in exchange for her freedom? Was it really freedom though, it did not feel like such a thing would ever exist. Girls like Victoria Isley would never be free, always trapped within the confines of society.

    As it would turn out it would ultimately be her grandfather that would put the pieces together and actually locate his missing granddaughter. Unknown to Victoria though, the information that she had been found alive was only released once the family had insured that the girl had not been compromised. There was no place for a rabid dog within such a family. In the event that such a thing had occurred there had been plans to dispose of the girl, and to frame the werewolves. It was better to mourn the loss and blame the obvious villain then to allow such a thing to exist within their perfect world.

    In time all the stars that had once shone so brightly within the night would once again illuminate in the darkness, suddenly the terrifying night did not feel so lonely. In time Hogwarts would become like a sanctuary, and although many of those she loved did not love the school the ballerina embraced it for all that it was. Many things would initially be too much, the way students would hustle through the corridors and the sound of their shoes scraping against the stone floors. It was the feeling as if everyone was staring, and realizing that no one was actually paying attention and it was simply the paranoid thoughts that would creep into her mind. Sleepless nights would flow into blurry days, as if every thought was fuzzy and out of focus and yet Tori would try to maintain composure when inwardly everything was falling apart. And maybe that was part of the problem, for the ballerina did not want help as she did not want to feel weak. It felt as if she had already been so weak for too long, as if any moment of strength was a tiny victory. The ballerina thought of herself as unworthy of many things, and so the position as Head Girl had been a surprise. It left her wondering why me of all people? What could they possibly see in someone who was like her? There would always be those who believed in her, those who saw what the ballerina could not see for herself. There had been hesitation, even reluctance to accept such an esteemed spot when it seemed as if there would always be someone that could do a better job. In some ways it was the only thing that got the badger through the day, spending her time focusing on the struggles of other instead of facing her own demons. It had always been easier for her to lend a helping hand to other, so much easier than to accept help herself. Perhaps it was because Victoria had always thought other deserved so much more than they had, while those feelings did not apply to herself. It was a way to lose herself, to further bury all the memories that haunted her.

    In time the sun would return to the moon, bringing along with him the light that had once shone so brightly within her childhood. Even so secrets would always seem to linger between the two, such things that neither wished to speak of. It was as if the distance between the sun and the moon could have filled the pages of a book, thousands of pages left unread. Even so it would always be at dusk that the sun and moon would meet, and somehow the ballerina hoped that this would be the beginning of something new. A chapter within a story that had yet to be written, she could only hope that such things would bring happier times for at last the rebel and the ballerina had been reunited.

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