Evans, Lily [U/C]

[Lily Evans]

Lily Jane Evans



Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champaign on ice
And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device."
In the masters chambers they're gathered for the feast.
They stab it with their steely knifes but they just can't kill the beast...

If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one,

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The Applicant

Name: Twiggy
How many years have you been role-playing?: Two to three
Contact:
AIM; OMGztwiggz
Neopets; retrozombie_

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Drying in the colour of the evening sun,

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The Character

Full name: Lily Jane Evans
Nicknames: Lils/Lil, Evans, Flower, Lilyflower, etc.
Gender: Female
Date of birth: 30 January, 1960
Age: Seventeen
Year: Seventh
House: Gryffindor
Wand: 10 and ¼ inches, Willow, swishy.
Blood status: Muggle-born
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Ethnicity: British
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Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away,
But something in our minds will always stay,

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Hair: Lily’s hair is a brilliantly deep hue of red. It is composed of gently swaying ringlets steaming down her back halfway.
Eyes: Lily’s eyes are an extraordinary feature of hers. They are almond-shaped and coated with a sparking green unlike any other.
Build: Lily is rather tall, yet certainly not lanky. She is quite thin, with an hour-glass figure and fit muscles to balance herself out.
Distinguishing features: Her fire engine red hair and her twinkling green eyes, of course. She can be spotted from a distance with her long, fiery mass of hair swaying swiftly after her, while her eyes are as if a beautiful summer’s day, simply glistening brightly ahead in the murky future.
Face claim: Cintia D***er

Overall appearance: [Please make this at least three to four lengthy paragraphs.]
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Perhaps this final act was meant,
To clinch a lifetime's argument,

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Amortentia:
Three scents which attract the wonderful Miss Evans include the following -
+ The smell of a thick, lush forest coated with old, rain bitten trees and patches of wood flowers.
+ The smell of the ocean drifting through the open fields and rolling hills of Northern England.
+ And for some odd feeling, she’s quite attracted to the smell of broom polish.
+ The old, historic scent that lingers in the Shrieking Shack.

Patronus: Doe

Boggart: [Worst fears]
As the boggart slowly creeps from its hiding it place it simultaneously transforms into a version of Lily's family, all three of her closest family members, her parents, her sister, Petunia, all of whom lay silently on the ground, stricken...dead... She would be lost without her family; they are her moral support, the people she cares for most.

+ Though Lily is also afraid of flying and heights, as well as of dying young.

Mirror of Erised: [Deepest desires]
Upon gazing into the depths of the Mirror of Erised Lily finds an image of herself alongside a beaming Mr. and Mrs. Evans and a sparkling Petunia, a Petunia who is at rest with Lily's current situation, all staring happily back at her... Though once or twice as she glanced back at the mirror for a mere second she thought she saw a quick image of herself and James Potter happily embraced in each other’s arms.... Whether it was simply a twist of the light or her own imagination she still isn’t sure, but it’s caused her much unease....

Worst Memory:
Lily’s worst memory is that of the day on which she received her invitation to Hogwarts.... Her sister, Petunia, and she had a horrible row that day; she still feels quite uncertain with her choices at the memory of the pain and fury in her sister’s face.... It was rather frustrating actually, and she would very much have liked it if her sister had also been admitted into the school, though their relationship has changed since then; they aren’t quite as close anymore.... She daydreams often of what her life would consist of she had denied her invitation to Hogwarts.... Though even at that she feels a far greater pain clenched at the pit of her stomach; she would never be able to live with herself if she had denied these powers of hers. She would feel utterly hollow, numb.... As if something were missing.... Moreover, she feels a much stronger bond to Hogwarts and its magical history than to her sister. Yet, she would very much like it if the two were on good terms.... But, alas, the sight of that happening dwindles with every passing year.

Best Memory:
On the other hand, Lily’s best memory consists of the day when her best childhood friend at the time, Severus Snape, confronted her privately and accused her of being a witch. She had nearly swarmed with joy at the thought; she certainly thought it was possible for she was well aware of the strangest situations she had found herself in as a child. In addition, she had always felt viewed herself rather different than most of the children frolicking about the quiet town she had grown up in. Or so she did as she was nearing the age of eleven. She had felt as any other child of her age at the time, running about the village, exploring the contents nearby creak.... Though as she grew closer to receiving her letter she had somehow knew the tight pit at her stomach had meant something; she was different.... She would sit on the window sill of her bedroom looking out at the large, looming clock tower and simply think for hours at a time. So she certainly took Severus up on the idea of her being a witch, and him a wizard.

After all of this occurred though, and she received her letter pronouncing her invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, no memory as of yet was far better than that of the day on which she bought her wand. She remembered it rather clearly up to this day.... She had walked in, rather shyly at first, though rather excitedly and exuberant on her way out, and asked quite sheepishly for a wand. And after a short pause, and a bewildered expression plastered onto her face as she gazed about the shop, she had asked if wands really /did/ perform 'magic.' Merely staring at her, as if stunned, Mr. Ollivander has simply chuckled softly and had gone into a lecture explaining that a wand was as bread is to butter; Lily had found it fascinating. Shortly after, leaving her quite stunned, he had gone off in search of the ‘perfect wand,’ as he had called it.

Perplexed, Lily simply awaited his return, mulling over everything she had been told, and once he came back, a small box in hand, he set it down on the count in front of her, pulled back its lid, and revealed the object most magicians used as a prop - an object meant to have ‘magical value’ though really possessed none. Laughing slightly at the sight of it, for the thought of a magician of some sort tapping this very item sprawled in front of her against the brim of a hat and pulling out a large assortment of rabbits from its interior had crossed her mind.

Though this wand was far different.... It was made of wood and had the air of holding a most strangest of values…magic. It was glossed to its fullest extent and had a rich history to its touch; as if had been waiting for her for centuries to come. Instantly the thought of it being a joke of some sort was erased from her mind, replaced with the burning sensation of embarrassment; this really wasn’t a dream. And once she wrapped her gentle hold around the wand a warm rush had swam through her veins and deep inside her chest. She felt as if she longed for this feeling never to cease.... She felt as if she was welcomes with the warmest of welcomes to a world far beyond any other.... Home.... “Well give it a flick!” Mr. Ollivander had called softly with a reassuring smile, for she was mesmerized, her eyes running over the wand’s exterior. Looking up to a few of his nods, her eyes had swiftly averted back to the magic she held in her hands. “Swish and flick; it’s excellent for Charms!” He finished, his voice distant as she quickly obeyed his orders. She twirled her wrist slightly and at once a heap of books lying against the shelf placed neatly behind Mr. Ollivander came to life as they flew above the pair, their pages flipping to random parts of each book. “Excellent!” Lily was mesmerized…speechless.... And as gazed up at the thick books, her breath caught in her throat, her heart thumping rather quickly, she felt as if she had entered a world unknown.... As if nothing else was as true and pure as this.... She felt her stomach give a few quick lurches as she felt as if she were trapped in a reality hidden to her all.... As if the time was swarming past her in the mere blink of an eye; she felt as she had gazed up at the books for hours until Mr. Ollivander finally uttered with a rather large grin creeping up his lips, “Outstanding! And that would be ten and a quarter inches long, Willow, and swishy, which is quite astonishing at Charms work as you see, yes?” She merely uttered a quiet, “Yes,” her eyes glued to the levitating books. At once the possibilities began to flood through her mind; she would have to buy textbooks…many, many textbooks, a slow smile sliding its way up her face....

Likes: [at least ten]

+ The warm and inviting smell of her rather comfortable home.
+ Sitting up quite late in the deserted common room, curled up on the armchair resting before the fireplace, simply watching the fire dwindle into ashes, thinking...
+ The feel of a thick, new hard cover book under her gentle touch.
+ Knowledge.
+ The library.
+ The rich and sugary smell of Honeydukes.
+ Rock & Roll
+ The old haunted feel to the Shrieking Shack. (:
+ Peace
+ Keeping calm, yet she lashes out on certain people when extremely irritated.
+ The towers of Hogwarts.
+ To gaze about the grounds of Hogwarts and the surrounding scenery through her dormitory window and the owlery.
+ The smell of the wild grounds surrounding Hogwarts.
+ Sitting in on rainy days simply watching the drops skim the windows.
+ The Eagles’ ‘Hotel California’

Dislikes: [at least ten]
+ Cruelty
+ Bullies, liars, betrayers, & users
+ Her unique hair color, for she is easily spotted when not wished to be.
+

strengths: [at least ten]
+ Charms & Potions (:
+ Her ability to see the good in all people....
+ Her bravery.
+ Her belief that there is still good in the world.
+ Her will to stand up to wrong-doers, and to fix wrong-doings.
+ Her knack for learning and finishing her school work quickly, yet efficiently.
+ Her skill to be nice and pure at heart. (:
+

Hobbies: [at least eight]

Habits: [at least eight]
+ Standing up for the weak.
+ Staying up rather late reading through thick textbooks, and simply thinking....
+ Doing her assignments instantly after they are assigned, thus, finishing her school work quite early.
+ Getting rather irritated at those who don’t follow rules, though she tries to lessen up on this for fear of being too up-tight.
+ She also gets slightly irritated at those who continuously need to copy down her notes and work, though she chooses to be nice about it and gladly helps out those who ask for it.

Weaknesses: [at least ten]
+ She can be rather stubborn at times.

Overall Personality: [At least five lengthy paragraphs] [/font]

That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could,

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Family: Lily was born to Muggle parents
along with her Muggle sister. Her family is comprised of the following -

+ Mr. and Mrs. Evans
+ Petunia Evans

Place of birth: Lily was born to Muggle parents near Spinner's End in a small town in Northern England. She enjoyed spending days among the nearby creak or even taking a stroll through the clock tower.

Overall History: [at least five lengthy paragraphs][/font]

For all those born beneath an angry star,

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Member title: lily.among.{thorns}
Secret Phrase: The clocks go flying at the speed of sound.
Sample:

Lifting her eyes up from her feet she watched as he rose from the
table, and walked away. She felt as if something wasn't right, as if
something had gone terrible cold inside of her... As if something was missing. She watched him go, many of their fellow students cheering them on, one even slapping him on the back as he went. She could feel the stares of her classmates hot on her back, but she simply couldn't move. Normally, all would have been right. She would have gone back to her breakfast, feeling as if everything was right with her life. But she didn't... Continuing to stare at his back, she felt as if the fire behind her flushed cheeks had reached its boiling point. She felt as if they were as red as the ripest of apples, and as hot as the earth's core. She could feel the heat creep up into her eyes. If felt as though they were burning, as though they might bleed her blind. Slowly, she tried to blink it away, as if none of this had happened. As if any of this could possibly have a positive outcome... But no, /she/ was positive it wouldn't. Watching him walk away from her, further, and further, she could feel her eyes growing glossy. 'No, I don't care,' she tried, but unsuccessfully, and to her dismay, she felt her eyes growing rather wet as well. Why? Why did she feel this way? It's not as if she had feelings for him! Slowly bringing her hand back
up to her eyes, she gently touched her face, and as she brought it back down, she realized it was slightly wet. She could feel her stomach give a small lurch, and as she looked back up she found that James /had/ moved on... 'He must have been telling the truth, then,' she thought as she stared after him, as he walked off with some girl. 'Well, good for him...' She blinked, analyzing him as
he walked out of the Great Hall, and out of her sight, the ends of his shaggy, dark brown hair sticking up here and there, remembering how just a few days ago she had, oddly enough, found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her hands through it just once, dazed out of her Transfiguration essay... But it was too late now. She felt as if she could simply get up and run after him. She felt as if she could simply /tell/ him how she felt. She felt as if she could simply explain to him the thoughts and feelings she received while she was around him. She felt as though she could she could /tell/ him the sensation she was felt as of lately whenever she saw him walk into the common room or across the hallway, while she pretended not to notice. She felt as if he could /help/ her in figuring out all this. She felt as if she could simply /accept/ him. But it was too late, for he truly /was/ over her, and he it would never be the same as it was just yesterday... With a rather dead expression on her face, she ran her hands over her face, rested the elbow of her right arm on the edge of the
wooden table, her left trembling slightly in her lap. She leaned forward, her face resting into the clutched hand of her right arm, now covering her mouth. Looking down at the palm of her other hand she swore she noticed a tear drop into it, easing its trembling form. She felt speechless. And she couldn't do anything to help it...

'The day you slipped away
Was the day I found it won't be the same
I've had my wake up, won't you wake up
I keep asking why?
And I can't take it it wasn't fake it
It happened you passed by
Now you're gone, now you're gone
There you go, there you go
I missed you...'

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No matter how much she had tried to convince herself that he wasn't worth it, she simply could /not/ keep on dwelling on how she had felt back in the Great Hall as she turned his back on her and walked away; how she /still/ felt. As if she had just done something terribly wrong. Something she would regret. And as she sat there, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, the corridor empty of all people except for herself, she also felt as if something had been ripped away from her, something that she had grown to love and care for throughout the past few years... And no matter how much she didn't want to admit it, she simply couldn't force herself /not/ to do it. Alas, it slowly dawned on her; she /did/ have feelings for him, after all. But as she let out a silent sight she knew she knew she should at least save her breath; it was over. All of it. Gone. Over. And there was no turning back. Yes, knew there /was/ a way of fixing it all, but she couldn't will herself to do it. She didn't want to live a lie... He was done with her, and there was most likely nothing she could do to fix it... She was helpless... And to think, she was a Gryffindor, brave to the heart, but at this moment all she felt was a dead, numb feeling slowly growing inside of her; nothing close to brave. In fact, she wanted to escape, to simply walk out the door and never return. Lifting her face, now wet from her constant flow of tears, she looked out the open door, the slight breeze flowing through swaying her fiery ringlets against her flushed face... It was a beautiful, warm summer day with a clear, rich, robin's egg blue sky and not a cloud in sight... She knew, from the exuberant screams and shouts echoing out of the Great Hall, that every single person in there was completely careless and free... Free of this pain she felt. They were all eagerly awaiting the end of term, and she knew, that once she walked out of those doors, everything would change, yet still, she felt a sudden lurch at the thought as she realized she would have to live with this guilt forever if she didn't fix it... But what was there for her to do? The least she could do is not bother him at all... Seeing as she was finally over her, she was sure he wouldn't mind one bit, and perhaps they could settle with simply being friends, in the end. But no... She couldn't live with herself if they 'simply settled with being friends' because...because...she wanted to be /more/ than friends, she thought, now staring straight ahead, her tears slowly ceasing. But just as it had crossed her mind so many times before this morning, she knew it would never happen, for she had ruined it... If only she had expressed such feelings before...before, when everything was right...

'Don't think too hard, if you think it hurts that bad
Don't talk about it, don't let it get you down
It's only one part, of the story
Just let it go, don't let this get you down now.
Sing the last thing on your mind
The last word on your breath
I'll be the one to keep you, keep you at your best
The last thing on your mind
'Cause I don't need your mess
I'll be the one to keep you one disaster less'

Sighing heavily, all she felt like doing at the moment was silently walk back up to her dormitory, curl herself up by the window, and get lost, far, far away from this world of hers with a simple book or two. Getting up to her feat, she picked up her back, and as she began climbing the marble steps towards the moving staircases,
she ran her hand across her eyes once more, trying to shake all thoughts away, but she simply couldn't. Her eyes still swollen and red, she walked up the staircases, staring nowhere but at her own scuffed ballet flats. Step after step brought her closer to her dormitory, and far away from all of this... Yet, still, the pain of guilt grew stronger and stronger inside of her...

'I didn't get around to kiss you, goodbye on the hand
I wish that I could see you again, I know that I can't
I hope you can hear me, 'cause I remember it clearly'

And now he was gone, and she couldn't bring him back... As the two staircases connected with a loud bang, she stepped forward only to come in contact with the end of black cloak. "Uf!" she let out as she leaped forward, catching onto to the banister as she tripped over the end of the cloak, naturally shutting her eyes for fear of coming in contact with the marble steps... Seeing as she wasn't going anywhere, she slowly opened one eye, and to her surprise it was James' cloak she had tripped over. James Potter. And there was no sixth year in sight. Flushing much to much for her own good, and quickly running a hand across her puffy eyes, she straightened up, looking down at the ground. "Sorry," she
muttered quietly, slowly begin to move back up the steps. He didn't want her here. She was nothing to him anymore. Nothing. Simply a pile of scum that had cost him many years of his life chasing after... Just as the color had begun to rinse away it quickly crept up the sides of her shining cheeks once again at the thought. Yes, she most certainly was scum to him... A small tear slid down the side of her cheek, but she did nothing to wipe it away. She was powerless in his presence; she couldn't do anything but walk on. Standing rather sheepishly at the edge of the staircase, she waited for the next to come. Simply waiting...

Lest we forget how fragile we are...

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