Aceptado! 
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If you have written other characters here, list them all: Arius Tristisa
Full Character Name: Rocio Eloise Adair
Character Birthday & Age: November 11, 1979; 28
City & Country of Birth: Holland, The Netherlands
Pureblood, Halfblood or Muggleborn?: Pureblood
Alma Mater: Hogwarts
Occupation: Owner of Adair Boutique
Type of Criminal: While at the moment she would simply be considered a Dark Witch, Rocio also likes to dabble in the black market every now and again, using her loyal snake menagerie for venoms and other ingredients vital to potions making. Her boutique is her primary form of business, and mostly the black market things she has she trades with close friends.
Allegiances / Loyalties / Political Faction:While Rocio could be considered the Black Widow of the
Wizarding Blood Alliance, she isn’t sure how much she believes in what some of them have to say. In her opinion it seems that some of them have lost their Slytherin traits and are losing that self-sufficiency that she believes is so strongly a characteristic of the house. Of course, since the group is not known, those who are not in it are unaware of her participation in it.
Previous Convictions or Crimes?:Rocio has never been convicted of any crimes though she has been involved in underhanded dealings. She trades on the black market, especially for her prized serpents and provides venoms and potions ingredients. She has attempted to try and cross her lovelies to create more deadly creatures but to little avail, especially failing at making the Ashwinders not all die immediately after laying their eggs. In her aims to perfect her spell casting in the dark arts she has dedicated time to capturing small magical creatures and animals and torturing them, using them later to feed her snakes, thus destroying the evidence.
What crimes might you commit in the future? Discuss all possible:This is unknown as of yet. The Wizarding Blood Alliance has yet to gain enough direction for me to be able to clearly state what types of crimes would be committed. Torture, perhaps. Maybe even a nice murder here or there. Extensive abuse of house elves, if that is considered a crime, though I doubt anyone could be convicted of it as there would be no proof and house elves do not seem the type to be reliable witnesses in a court of law.
Are you currently under pursuit by the Ministry of Magic?: No.
Wand Description:[Wand Core:] Dragon Heartstring
[Wand Wood:] Olive (symbolizes Healing, Peace, Fertility, Potency, Protection, Lust) with a Magnolia (symbolizes Fidelity) handle
[Right or Left-handed:] Right
[Length:] 8 ¾”
[Color/Stain:] A deep green stain was used on it.
[Surface:] It's very smooth. It was polished exquisitely.
[Thickness:] It's rather thin
[Strength/Suppleness:] It's strong for it's thinness, but also fairly swishy.
Physical Description:Rocio is very Spanish with dark hair and eyes as well as her perpetually tan skin. Her hair color would best be termed as black, though in the summer it lightens to a softer brown. She has brown eyes that are almost always exquisitely lined with eyeliner and her long lashes caked in mascara. She loves to have her makeup done and thinks it distracts from – what people have called – the bird-like features of her face. It is well defined, and some people think she looks like a bird due to it. Her eyes are bright and don’t really give away much about her. She is visually attractive, however, and tends to attract men whether she wants to or not. She is fairly short, standing at only 5’2” and has a slim build.
Personality Description:Rocio is very Spanish in her actions, despite not having lived there for a very long amount of time. Her parents attempted to instill in her their culture, and Spanish was always the language spoken in the home. She still has the habit of using Spanish words in her spoken English, especially when she cannot find the right word or phrase in English. She believes that sometimes the Spanish version is simply superior. This immersion in her own culture is something that she is very proud of, and despite living in England and having been married to an Englishman as well as having been born in the Netherlands she does consider herself very Spanish. Her parents were very important in this development, and through showing her other cultures very early in life they gave her a greater love for her own culture as well.
It is in an interesting manner that Rocio is cultured. The majority of the time the more people see other cultures, live among them and become immersed in them the less bigoted and prejudiced they tend to be. However, it may simply be that while Rocio has experienced other cultures, she has always done so from a Wizarding point of view. Although her parents always tried to teach her the importance of non-alignment she was almost always surrounded by other purebloods in every place they went. It wasn’t that there weren’t muggleborns and half-bloods, there were plenty of them but not so deeply immersed in the magical world and so her parents tended to keep society similar to what they had left everywhere they went. Even in Spain they lived in a small pureblood colony.
Rocio can be sensitive at times, though it truly depends on the people she is with. Her compassion only shows through when she is with her closest friends, the ones who she deems as the most trustworthy. This status is often given to them on blood status, or alignment with her own beliefs. She still holds some friends from Hogwarts – those who didn’t die in battle or end up in Azkaban. More often than not though she is biting and cruel, having a distinct distrust of nearly everyone the Wizarding World throws at her. She even believes that some of her friends may be shifty, though she has dealt with some shady people in the black market, in particular when trying to get her snakes.
She is very intense and powerful with a magnetic personality and great potential for either good or evil. On the outside she appears to be cool, calm, collected - a bit aloof even, but underneath this exterior is a power-hungry, self-serving and manipulative Scorpio. She is easily stirred into a ferocious rage which can be directed towards anyone and anything. Despite her small stature and slight frame she harnesses much aggression, in particular because of the past. Her moods can change on the drop of a hat and people never expect one of her outbursts unless they know she dislikes them, it is very hard for her to mask her feelings when she detests someone, and she rarely tries to hide the truth of it. It would come out sooner or later anyhow.
A certain amount of magnetism draws people to her despite her withdrawn nature, yet she is highly observant and if she stays back it is merely because she would rather observe the goings-on around her than get into the midst of it all, yet she is also a social creature. At gatherings she is pleasant and gracious to all she speaks with, providing warm conversation in a dignified and reserved manner – she was born and bred to the life of a diplomat after all. Even in conversation she can be intense and her dark eyes have been said to be ‘hypnotic’ at times. She does have self-discipline, however, and if faced with someone she does not like at a gathering tends to stay away from them rather than allow herself to butt heads.
She is very willful and passionate when she cares about something. Yet she has a propensity for extreme likes and dislikes as well and her emotions tend to lead her down some precarious paths when she allows them to cloud her judgment. As such she tries not to let that happen. She is very suspicious and tends to detect it when people insult her, even if they didn’t mean to, causing her to file it away in a little box for future reference as to why she does not like them. She has a superb memory of hurts and disappointments but also of love and pleasure. Slighting in her speech and actions, she makes enemies easily for all her difficulties in finding trustworthy friends and can be overly critical of anything and anyone. When she dislikes someone she can be blunt to the point of cruelty, and when she likes someone she can be as sweet and docile as a baby lamb.
Rocio is known for her energy, which is abundant in all of her projects. Her shrewd nature and self-confidence – a trait she had to grow into during her Hogwarts years – allows her to throw herself into any project with the mindset that she will succeed. She is ambitious and self-serving but can also be magnanimous towards other people – provided that she likes them, of course. She has never seen herself above being vindictive and is often deliberately cruel about it. She is demanding and unforgiving of any faults she sees in others due to her constant drive for perfection. She strives for it in all that she does and is not aware of her own shortcomings in life, often hating that in others which she does not notice in herself.
Despite being a traditionalist, she is also rebellious against the rules, a trait she believes to show her Slytherin nature. She can be utterly unscrupulous when she wishes to be. Resentful, sadistic and depraved would be great words to describe her. Her arrogance can lead her to be showy and flashy at times but a level-head keeps this down to a minimum and only around people that she knows she could trust with her life. She does love being praised though, and when she does have friends who she knows will appreciate her doings she will regale them with tales of her life.
Although she has no love interest at the moment, Rocio is very flirtatious and can use this to manipulate men that she meets. She is resourceful, and like a good Slytherin will do whatever she has to do in order to achieve what she has set to achieve. If this means that she has to throw herself at an unworthy man who she is not interested in, then she will do it. The ends justify the means in her opinion, no matter what the end or what the means are. However, she also has a tendency to talk down to those who she finds inferior to herself – which would seem to be a very long list of people.
There is a certain sort of courage in her though, not typical Gryffindor courage which she always sees lauded in the papers, but rather a Slytherin courage. She could have just let herself rot away after Zachary’s death but rather faced the past – to a certain extent although at times she seems still stuck in that moment when she learned that he died – and accepted what happened. He had been brave and fought for what he believed in. If he had died defending his beliefs, then Rocio respected and admired him the more for it. He had been courageous in his own form, even if he was acting as a follower.
Ro’s personality is best reflected by the pets she keeps. She does not have any fluffy bunnies or cute puppies or kittens, rather she has poisonous and deadly snakes. One bite from some of these can have the victim dead in minutes. She adores them all, and each of them has a name and their own space within the menagerie she had attached to the house. There are magical snakes as well as non-magical, and she feels they reflect her personality not just as a Slytherin but also due to their cold nature. They are her babies and her family.
History:Rocio Andreas was born on a chilly November 11 to Claudio and Anamaria Andreas. She was a bouncing baby girl, and everyone expected great things from her in the future. Of course, it helped that she led a fairly unusual life, starting with her birth. Although Spanish– - her family hailing from Andalucia, Spain - she was born in Holland, where her father was stationed, serving his final year there as a Mid-level Diplomat. He had moved through the career fairly quickly, and was happy to finally have a child at the age of 33. Anamaria would be unable to bear anymore children and so Rocio would become their little princess, the center of attention and daddy’s beautiful little girl. There was also the added benefit of being the youngest grandchild on her mother’s side which made her the baby doubly-so there. As such, from the beginning she was spoiled rotten.
Being an only child certainly had its perks, and Rocio grew to live and love a lifestyle that was a tad different from that of others perhaps. Everyone around her spoiled her to the core and yet much was expected of her as well. She was raised mainly by nannies and the like, who instilled in her a strict discipline, of the sort that would please her parents. After all, they were used to a certain sort of lifestyle and their daughter had to fit into it…. even if they did really give in to her every whim and allow their world to revolve around her. However, she was expected to be a little lady. As such, she was always dressed to the nines, and rarely was a hair on her head found to be out of place. She was pampered to no avail. She always needed to be prepared in case her father had to take her to some function or other where she would make a quick appearance and then disappear into the background once more, her nannies tucking her in.
At the age of five, it was decided that Rocio should begin her formal schooling, but sending her to school was not truly an option. After all, the family was constantly travelling and it would be heart-breaking to Anamaria to have to leave her baby girl in Spain while she went to school. As such, she had the finest tutors the continent could offer. Signor Andre Camaratto arrived by floo every morning precisely at ten o’clock. From ten to one, she studied languages: French, Spanish, Italian and English. These three hours also encompassed her literature lessons every day. Her other tutor would arrive after her one hour break, precisely at two o’clock in the afternoon. This was Monsieur Gaspard DuPoumayrac who taught her math and science as well as the few odd wizarding subjects, mainly enough for her to be well informed upon entering whatever Wizarding School was nearest to where they were living at the time.
On Saturdays, Mam’selle Reinard arrived promptly at two to have tea with the young girl and instruct her in the finer arts of etiquette. Not to mention the feminine arts of music, embroidery and dance. As much as she sometimes detested these Saturdays, she later grew to be grateful for them. After all, one never knew when such knowledge might come in useful, what with all of the balls and such that would be held later on in her life. At any rate, however, one can always do with knowing how to be a lady. This was something that her parents held to be of high importance, her mother had learned how to be a diplomat’s wife just like Rocio had to learn how to be a diplomat’s daughter.. She put up with Saturday lessons more for them than anything else, and they were six long years to put up with Mam’selle Reinard.
Her tutors always followed wherever Rocio and her family went, following them pretty much across Europe, educating their young pupil in all things she might need to know. Shortly after Rocio turned ten, her father was assigned as an ambassador to the Ministry of Magic in London, England. She had been in Spain for a year while her family awaited their reassignment and had no time to make real friends when she was moving to the next spot on the list. They went to London in February 1990, and that is where she has lived ever since. The transition was not as easy as others, as she was nearing school age and her own nerves about it were coming to light. All of this moving around hadn’t allowed her to make any real friends, though she hoped school would fix that.
She spent the year worrying and making preparations, as well as acquainting herself with new children, hearing them speak of how sure they were that their Hogwarts letters would be coming made her nervous. What if she was sent to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang or somewhere else? It seemed that every child she had ever met knew what school they were destined for based on where they lived. She had lived so many places though, what if the letter got lost? Or what if the school couldn’t find her? Her nerves were wracked endlessly and it wasn’t until she got her very own Hogwarts letter on November 11, 1990 that she finally felt secure in her future. That was when she was able tos tart planning for what lay ahead.
She walked into Hogwarts prepared and perhaps a little bit afraid of what was to happen. Her tutors had told her all about the houses, and she only wondered which one she would be sorted into. She hoped it wouldn’t be Hufflepuff! That would probably be a fate worse than death, surrounded by all those children who probably knew nothing of the Wizarding World or the world at all! Her family was not one of purists and her father always preached nonalignment in any cause. He was a diplomat, and that meant that he had to be for whatever party was appointing him at the time and what they stood for didn’t really matter. Unfortunately this was not a lesson his daughter would learn readily. She was merely looking for acceptance.
She waited anxiously, a lump in her throat as she noted that they were going in alphabetical order. That meant that she would be up sooner rather than later. She walked as one or two students went and sat on the rickety-looking stool and put the ratty hat on their heads. After a few moment’s deliberation the Sorting Hat - as it was called – would call out to the assembly the house that the student was going to and the child would go off in the direction from which clapping emanated. She was still worried about where she would be sent when she heard her own name called and approached the stool cautiously, as though it might bite her instead of letting her sit on it. She finally sat down and the hat was placed on her head, sliding down over her ears and just about covering her eyes.
It spoke to her and she wasn’t sure how one responded to a hat. She responded to it cautiously and felt like she was there for the longest time before the hat finally decided. “Slytherin” it called out loudly, and relieved that she had been told she was too deficient and had to leave Hogwarts – which - would have been a blow to any pureblood - she made her way towards the table, seating herself at the end near where the other first years were sitting, pleased to watch the sorting now that her part was done. To her family it was a bit surprising that she should have been sorted into a house that so strongly aligned itself in one direction, and they only hoped that it wouldn’t have a negative effect on her.
Her first year was fairly rocky as she adjusted to a new school and making friends. She had never been in such a place as this before and she could only marvel at, well, everything. Pureblooded though she was and having seen many different Wizarding cultures, Hogwarts was something utterly unexpected and awe-inspiring. She had also never seen so many wizards her age in one place before. She had met other diplomatic children, of course, and her multitude of cousins but it simply wasn’t the same. These were all new people with different experiences and Ro was excited to be here, despite not having all the comforts of home. She did, however, meet a boy who would change her life, even if she didn’t know it yet.
Her attitude began to form around the ideals of her house and she could best be described as snooty. She had been merely spoiled before, but now she was more proud of it. This was what a year at Hogwarts had done to her, who knew what could occur at the end of seven. Whatever it was, her parents were worried about it. They could only hope that she would go in the right direction and not follow in the silly direction that it seemed most Slytherin’s ended up following. She would choose for herself, she was far too independent to follow just anyone! They expected that she would remember, nonalignment at all times was the safest path to follow.
Second year continued to prove an adventure with her new group of friends and her newfound attitude. Her beliefs and loyalties were being called into question, but all was answered and solved by her acquaintances. She had found herself a niche among good purebloods. They weren’t at the top rung of the purebloods in her year not Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and that lot but they were all associated nonetheless. Her group was quieter, less open about their allegiances, though everyone knew where they lay and what their family members probably did. The only oddball out really was Rocio, but she scraped by speaking of pureblood superiority and getting good marks in her classes.
Her third year at Hogwarts was passed like the others, ignoring the doings of the boy-wonder and living her own life, happy to be stable for once in her life. Not to mention a budding romance occurring in the Slytherin common room between herself and Zachary Adair. He was a part of her group and they got along well. Their verbal sparring matches were often sources of amusement for her and his air of superiority was something she liked. He had confidence, and she liked that. Her admiration for him and his own surety in his beliefs was well known.
In their Fourth Year, he invited her to the Yule Ball and together they joined in the fun of the evening. Dancing the night away along with the others they found that they had much in common and from then on they were practically inseparable. They could be found sitting together in classes, on the grounds, in the library and at all meals. The common room often found her in his lap on the couch in the Common Room. This was truly the beginning of a great romance, and they couldn’t dream of being with anyone else. They were young and no one thought it would really last, except for them.
Last it did. The relationship carried on throughout their fifth and sixth years, at the end of which both parties opted not to return to Hogwarts. Rocio’s parents were not pleased, but Zachary’s family took her in. Her parents didn’t disown her but it wasn’t until the events of what would have been her Seventh Year at Hogwarts that they would be relieved she had left when she had. She really was just following Zachary. He had turned Seventeen in January of their Sixth Year, and her in November. Legally an adult, he simply wanted to join up like his father and be done with school, he wouldn’t need it anyhow. She didn’t know how she would take a year without him and so that was why her decision was made.
He took his oath and less than a year later, on February 13th, 1998, they married. It was a small ceremony and no one but their family and closest friends attended. A slightly rushed wedding due to the affairs in the outside world, to them it was still perfect. It was all that Rocio could want and she was happy to have pledged her love for Zachary. They were happy for that short period of time, she mostly ignored his comings and goings, and he never left without a goodbye kiss. They were still living in their honeymoon phase, their own little candy coated world. Rocio knew that the war was coming and that was why when Zachary had proposed she had jumped on the idea and planned the wedding in such a short time. She was nervous, more nervous than she would willingly admit.
The three months they did have together were spent in sheer bliss. The last month he did get busier and busier up until that fateful day arrived when the fortunes of all would be decided by the bloodshed of many. He was called away and with a kiss and a hug they said what they never suspected would be their final goodbyes. That night Rocio couldn’t sleep, and she hasn’t slept on the anniversary of that night since. She is still stuck in the past, that last moment that last kiss and hug. Upon learning of his death on the following morning, Rocio fell into a deep depression and seemed to be crazy for quite a bit. She still hasn’t allowed anyone to touch anything that was Zachary’s and so his belongings sit in his house collecting dust. Since Zachary’s death she has not found another love to interest her.
In 2002, Zachary’s mother Elizabeth finally passed away. Her own heartbreak and inability to reconcile with her son’s death and her husband’s incarceration led to an illness which claimed her life. This left Rocio as the undisputed heir to the Adair fortune. She was the only Adair left alive and free, even if she was only an Adair by marriage. She was unfortunately the one who had to break the news to Gerard Adair, from then on they had each other. Ro’s parents were alive but off an assignment somewhere or other and so Gerard Adair became like her father and she like his daughter.
In the year following Elizabeth’s death Ro focused her attentions on opening her own boutique, named for the family she had been taken into.
Adair touted as the boutique holding fashions for Wizards and Witches with flair. She designs the fashions and spends a lot of her time running the boutique. It is a project just large enough for her not to focus her every waking moment on Zachary. She did start to overcome the fact that he had died, just enough to move on with her own life and do something. She has yet to see if she can ever find someone to love in that way again.
Writing Sample:Ten Years Prior.
February 13, 1998
“I do,” she said softly, her eyes gleaming as she stared up into his perfect face. She was proud, proud that she had such a brave man to protect her. His own smooth answer came next as he too accepted the words spoken with the same ‘I do’. She had never been happier, certainly. The signatures went down on paper, and the guests all clapped. A small ceremony and a wedding sealed with a kiss. This was what she had wanted, what they had decided on. They were young, and they loved each other, not to mention that trouble was brewing and a war soon to come she knew they had to move fast. He had only proposed a month earlier and everything needed to be arranged quickly, they didn’t want to waste even one moment.
May 2, 1998
She had never joined; she had never been brave enough. Not like him, he joined up straight out of Hogwarts, following in his father’s footsteps. When they were called away, his mother and Rocio sat in the parlor of the house all night, waiting. They were proud of their men, their loyalty and bravery but they were unsure what to do or say, nothing seemed quite right. His father, sent to Azkaban and the house raided. As for Zachary, the news was not so good. Killed in Battle. A loss that was easy for the good side to take and one which made Rocio, at age 18, a widow.
Present Day
May 2, 2008
Birds chirped and a crisp spring day began in the twilit dawn, the last dregs of winter on its last dying breath, just this one day. Soft dew had settled over the grounds and everything seemed like the picture of calmness. Then again, it was still early in the morning to be judging the weather for the day; the sun hadn’t even come out yet. When the sun finally rose, much like it did every day, oblivious to the goings on of the people of the world, the sky was a clear blue unlike that red sunrise of ten years prior.
Ten Years. Ten Years had gone by since the day that she had been informed that he had died. Not even married for three months she had been widowed. Their wedding portrait still hung over the fireplace across from the bed they shared for a short period of time, and she had no plans of taking it down anytime soon. A fine dust had settled over the room, and nothing had really been touched. It all looked the same as it had that day in May. The last time he had left the room, embracing her and saying goodbye with a passionate kiss. His clothes were all there, pristine and folded in his own armoire. Here was also where she kept her collection of mourning garb. It wasn’t until after his mother had passed that she had been left the house. Then she had taken the liberty of moving into the Master bedroom and leaving this room to be used once a year, and locked with a key the rest of the time.
She rose from the bed, leaving the green silk sheets on her side of the bed in disarray; his side would forever be untouched. A wave of her wand brought her the first drink of the day and she made her way towards the mirror. The night prior had been spent lying awake, allowing sleeplessness and memory to consume her. That was how she spent the First of May
every single year. There was nothing new to this and she had known it was coming, there was a pattern. She had spent May 1, 1998 in the Parlor and when she had been coaxed to go to bed by the late Elizabeth Adair, there had been no sleep. She tossed and turned, reaching to his empty side of the bed as though hoping that he might appear at any moment and envelop her in his warmth as he had done so many times before.
She seated herself in front of the mirror and looked into it for a long while, observing the under-eye circles which sat there and wondering how exactly to hide them. Thankfully her presence wouldn’t have been missed at the Hogwarts ceremonies the night prior, not that she could have put on a happy face for them at all. She would much rather have seen the Quidditch Pitch burn down with all those people in it than have to sit there pretending to be mourning the dead on their side. Then again, that Quidditch Pitch held so many memories. She had been at every single one of the matches and he had been his biggest fan the few times he got to play as a replacement for someone else. They had met in the Pitch as well, first year. They had been sitting next to each other and he had commented on how he liked the funny little accent she had.
History is always written by the victors, and thus this was how this day was to be spent for the rest of eternity. Her loving Zachary would never be remembered as more than a villain, if he was remembered at all. It was far more likely that he would be completely forgotten by everyone who walked the earth and those foolish blood traitors would keep it that way. She huffed softly and took a large gulp of her drink, beginning her morning ritual of beauty charms. There were not many of them to do and when she was finally pleased with her appearance she slipped into a simple black dress, and it’s matching black pumps. A black sun hat and then her large black purse would be out in the hallway along with her fabric swatches for the room she was working on. She took a deep breath and blowing a kiss up at his moving portrait left the room, turning behind her and locking it, depositing the key in a small compartment in the wall where it stayed all year, opening only once.
She made her way down the halls of the house, walking past portraits of him and his family ancestors, finally reaching pictures of how she had remembered him, how they had been together. She had never met anyone quite like Zachary and he had been all she wanted. She stopped in front of that final portrait of them, taken a mere three days before the battle. They had been so happy, and the war had ended it all. Those horrible blood-traitors had ended his life when it was in its prime. This was something she would never forgive and never forget. She would keep with her routine today, stick to what she always did. As soon as she grabbed her purse she was in the floo and on her way to Azkaban, to visit Zachary’s father, the poor old man only had her left and she did what she could.
A rather dirty floo ride laterRo appeared at the prison and with a wave of her wand cleared herself of any dust that clung to her pristine black clothing. Taking off her sunglasses she stowed them carefully in her purse before approaching the entrance. “I’m here to visit Gerard Adair,” she said to the guard, who always knew where she went. She was patted down and had her wand taken away from her as well as her bag and her hat. Her black hair fell loose about her shoulders as she was taken by one of the prison guards through a long, dimly lit hallway and into a visiting room. He reminded her of the rules – which she had already heard a million times before – and went to stand warily in the corner. A door at the other end of the room opened and Gerard Adair entered the room. Ro imagined that was what Zachary would have looked like if he had been allowed to get old – well and if he had ended up in prison.
She stood up and glanced at the guard, silently asking him for permission before rushing over into her father-in-law’s arms. He patted her back gently and squeezed tight before leading her back to the table. While it was certainly no obligation for her to be there, she was essentially the heir to his family’s fortune, and as such he was her responsibility. Not to mention the fact that she found the old man endearing, he was an anchor to that life she had lost. “How are you today?” she asked him softly, her hand reaching out to clasp his across the table. She knew it was difficult for him, possibly more than it was for her. She had lost a loved one but he had lost so much more. In the thick of battle he had lost his only son, his heir. Not much after he had lost his freedom and his cause. Then, eventually he had lost his beloved wife. He had been badly beaten by life.
“I am as well as one can be when in here,” he said with a chuckle. He wanted to make light of the situation, for her sake. Azkaban had been hard on him, much of his will to live anymore was fading and it was perhaps because of the desperate looking woman across from him that he continued to draw breath. He wasn’t getting younger and life in prison was going to take a toll on him eventually. There were ways to die, and he had contemplated it more than once. Today though, was not only about him, it was about her as well; the life that had fallen apart when her dreams had been shattered. They had taken everything from her just as much as they had from him and he knew that. “And you? How are you today?”
She paused for a moment, the truth settling itself heavily on her shoulders as she airily told him that she was fine. This was no time for her dramatics or her tears. Enough of those had been shed in the sleepless night that had come before this meeting. “I am happy to see you today. This is better than being where other people have gathered.” Her voice grew icy, dark eyes narrowing as it happened, her thoughts floating back to that image of those people losing their lives as they mourned for their loved ones who had fallen, as though they were the only ones in the entire Wizarding World with the right to mourn. She was taken out of this place by his touch on her hand. She looked to him and he nodded his agreement with her statement, which pleased her greatly. She loved her Azkaban visits with Gerard, they actually brightened her day.
Sum up your character in one paragraph:Rocio is very prone to extremes, in everything. Her personality sways one way or the other and she is very decisive for whatever way she leans. She can come off as utterly batty to those who don’t know her well. A true Scorpio, and a good Slytherin, Rocio is not one to be messed with lightly. “Nemo impugn lacessit” – Attack me not without impunity. She does get bogged down by the past sometimes but attempts to move forward as best she can. Not all evil, she does have good qualities and could be a great person had she devoted her life to good. However, she chose the path she is on and she doesn’t regret it not for a moment.
Rocio Adair: Fashion Designer/Owner of Adair Boutique