Your Nickname: Aero
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Is this a Primary or Secondary Character?: Primary

Full Character Name: Demitria "Strellie" Slaave Strelnikov
Character Birthday & Age: April 21st, 1993; 15
City & Country of Birth: Strelnikov Manor, 35 miles from Arkhangel'sk, Russia
Pureblood, Halfblood or Muggleborn: Halfblood
House & Year: Slytherin, 5th year

Wand: 10.5" Cherry Wood, Hippogriff Talon; Inflexable with a spiral shaft

Physical Description: The first word one would think when they see Demitria is “pixie.” She has a build as slender and as delicate as a butterfly’s with no overbearing features. She tries to stay in top shape at all times, for if she gains even three or four pounds, it is immediately noticeable. Her legs make up slightly over half of her body and give her what little height she has.
Her face is an oval, but since it is also small, it appears rounder than it actually is. In her face, she has almond shaped eyes that sparkle with an internal mischief that rarely lets itself out. The color of her eyes is a green so pure it doesn’t hold another shade other than the twinkling jade. Her nose is defined, as any true aristocrat’s nose it, but it softens at the tip as to not be so sharp. Her lips are small and naturally rose toned. Her skin tone is immensely pale, but because she enjoys sports, she usually has a healthy flush spread over her cheeks and nose. She has not a single freckle or mole on her entire body, leaving the skin pale and smooth. Still, her face is not unblemished. A single long scar dances over her left cheek bone. When reminded about it, her usually soft expression goes as hard as a rock and her twinkling eyes become shards of glass.
Her hair naturally falls in soft ringlets that she keeps cropped to just above her shoulders. Its color is the unidentifiable shade that falls between a dirty blonde and mousy brown. It has tones of golden wheat, olive, corn, chocolate, and strawberry to make it nearly impossible to describe. When asked, Strellie usually just says dark blonde. She sometimes straightens it, but usually leaves it alone, finding it much prettier curled. She wears her hair in many different ways, but the majority of times, she keeps it loose or in a high pony. 
She wears minimal makeup, not seeing the need for it. Still, she has everything handy for special occasions. For day to day use, she only uses a rosy/peachy lip gloss, blush, and eye shadow. Her clothing is a different matter altogether. She only uses the best from magical and muggle companies alike. Even when things look rather simple, one can be sure it cost a pretty penny. She loves dresses, but her usual outfit consists of jeans, ballerina flats or heels, and an in-style top. She has a tendency to pick up hippie styles, so many of her shirts are loose and flowing, with beautiful designs.
But if Demitria were to turn around, many would shy away. Each individual scar on her back looked like the scar on her face, but there was a nearly fatal difference. These scars littered her backside, leaving only minimal spots unmarked. If she lived at sea, one would say she had been flogged by the cat-o-nine-tails. One may sometimes catch a glimpse of these marks if her shirt slips up, but Demitria is terrified of showing anyone. Because of this, she will never wear swimsuits or low back shirts.


Personality Description: Demitria is like the wind, the element she has a strong connection to.
She can blow soft and warm. She smiles easily. Many things amuse her and she has a sarcastic and witty sense of humor. She’s fun loving and laughter is her favorite past time. She would run for hours or cliff dive just to feel the adrenaline pumping through her body. She stands out in the cold dungeons like a bright star.
 She is untamable. She can be one of the most stubborn people one ever meets and she never backs down from any challenge throw at her. She is vaguely elitist and can discriminate against people she deems lower than herself, but if she thinks they can be useful, she doesn’t care where they’re from. Demitria is extremely competitive and will work tirelessly to make sure she gets what she deserves, and for her, that is nothing less than the best. In her head, there is no such thing as second and third place. There are winners and losers. She knows that she is beautiful and even though she doesn’t rub it in people’s faces, she can be narcissistic.
She is art. Strellie loves to dance, sing, and most of all, play piano. From an early age, music was encouraged in Strelnikov Manor, so she learned to play the piano. Her true escape is moving her hands over the keys in endless rhapsodies and cadences, flipping into arpeggios, and pounding out octaves. Her fingers move like the wind dancing over the land.
She is everywhere. Like the wind, she touches everyone in a different way. She can be cold to some and warm to others. She doesn’t make friends or enemies too easily, but once they reach that status, almost nothing can remove them.   
She can hail storms. When something angers her, Demitria can calm so drastically, everything around her seems to chill. The twinkle in her eye is still there, but there is a cold emptiness behind it. Her ready smile is still there, but there is no happiness in it. Her usually warm disposition evaporates leaving a cold shell.
She can blow with a vengeance. Demitria’s fatal flaw is pride. If someone she trusts betrays her or someone humiliates her, it’s all going down. She’s a very patient person, so mind games are favorite solution to her… problems. People learned not to mess with her very quickly, so these humiliations rarely occur, but when they do… The wind seems to blow a little harder.


History: The sun had been up for more than fifteen hours by the time a handsome man strolled into the ports of Wizarding Arkhangel’sk. His expression was dour and he wondered how Darya would take the news. One child that was not hers had not given her much pause, but another? The imposing man stopped and massaged the bridge of his nose. If only that serving wench had used some sort of protection, but no. Now, she was going to have his brat sometime in April. Things were not looking up for Taras Strelnikov…
On April 21st at 1:24 in the morning, two sparkling green eyes peered at their father. They then squeezed tightly shut as their owner wailed. That same early morning, Taras took the baby away from its mother and carried it to the stone manor in the heart of the frozen forest. The baby was the first girl born to him and he was determined to make her a queen. She would fetch a handsome price someday when he was ready to marry her. Thus, she could never know about her soiled blood. She would be a pureblood. She would be Darya’s problem anyway. After all, he had his own issues to resolve in Mongolia.   
The little girl they named Demitria Slaave, meaning Glorious Earth, was soon given free reign of the magnificent stone manor.  She knew nothing of her past and saw only the dazzling opportunities of a pureblooded witch. Despite many notions of what a pureblooded manor was like, Strelnikov manor was a warm home where laughter abounded. Demitria thrived in the softly lit stone halls and libraries with her three half brothers and the young muggle kitchen maids. That is, she did when Taras was not around. When Taras was home, everything changed. There was no more laughter, no more running down staircases, and no more reading. Because of this, Strellie developed a shell. Every time she was with her father, she would slip on a skin that was not her own. This shell served to protect the wild and untamable spirit blossoming inside. She wasn’t stupid. She would have to abstain from showing her true self if she wanted to survive. Darya, Demitria’s “mother”, had to step in when Demitria was five. Even though Taras did not approve of educated women, Darya began to teach her daughter in private. She told her stories of long gone worlds, of muggles, wizards, and dragons. She taught her about history and great evils that had been overcome. Demitria soaked up this information like a sponge, wanting to know everything. Her brothers, Jaska, Luca, and Maxim, teased her endlessly about her tireless pursuit of stories and knowledge, but Demitria ignored them. They were just her brothers after all and brothers are supposed to tease their sisters. When Taras was away, Demitria, or Strellie as she was affectionately called by her friends, would run down to the kitchens and learn to cook with the muggle chefs. Afterwards, she and Tanya Komarovskii, her closest friend, would go play in the frozen forests surrounding the manor.
Year by year though, things began changing. The twins, Luca and Jaska, went to Durmstrang the year Strellie turned six, leaving the manor much quieter than when they had been there. Demitria found that the quietness of the long days made her lonely, so she began to teach herself piano on the full 9-foot grand in the entrance hall. One day, Taras came home early and found the then seven year old playing. Maxim had left two weeks earlier to join his brothers and Taras had forbidden the little girl to play with “mere servants,” so she was completely alone in the lower house. When he floo-ed in, he heard the delicate strains of the notes and saw his little girl playing with such an expression of joy on her face that he didn’t know what to say. Demitria didn’t even notice her father until he spoke behind her. She immediately pushed herself away from the piano and tried to run, fearing punishment, but instead, Taras simply said, “I think it is time for you to see a teacher, is it not?”
From that day on, Strellie’s days were filled with lessons all day long. She was tutored by Darya in the mornings and her afternoons and evenings were devoted to dance and piano. She learned easily, but in her mother’s lessons, she would bore just as easily. She was tireless in her pursuit of knowledge and if she already knew something, she would lose focus.
At night, a few times a week, Demitria would still sneak away to play with Tanya. After all, a young girl cannot be alone at all times. Strellie craved human interaction and her scheduled once-a-month play dates with other pureblooded children left her just as bored as lessons sometimes did. With Tanya, she could be free as a bird. In the dark of night, deep in the frozen forest, they would explore the icy caves and streams, creating their own worlds and stories. They paid no heed to the flurry of creatures that watched them with avid curiosity and often times, malice. When Demitria turned eight and a half, in the dead of October, one of the creatures finally moved against them.
“Strellie?” Tanya’s voice fell into a whisper, “What is that?”
“I think it’s a dog. But… oh,” Demitria’s voice wavered.
“What? What is it?” Tanya’s voice began rising dangerously.
“It’s a crup. Mother had a lesson on them. Get behind me Tanya.” Demitria’s jade eyes were shining nervously.
“Why? What does it do?”
“Just get behind me, Tanya. Please.”
“Stop! Strellie! You’re scaring me.”
The tiny girl stepped out to the growling figure. “Hey puppy, how are you? I’m a witch. Yes, I’m a witch. You like witches, don’t you?”
The dog-like creature stopped growling and a snuffling was heard.
Then silence.
“Did it go away? What did it want?” Tanya’s voice came out in a squeak.
“Crups are just wizard bred animals. But-“ Strellie turned to look at her friend. “But they hate muggles.”
“Then what are they doing in this forest?”
“I think my grandfather had a few that ran away and have been in here ever since. We have to leave now, Tanya.”
They linked hands and began to run. They ran as fast as they could, stumbling over rocks and stumps. They were nearing the edge of the frozen forest when barking was heard.
What happened after was the best possible outcome. Two crups leaped at the slightly older and bigger Tanya who went down shrieking. Demitria threw herself at her friend and tried to protect her from the crups’ onslaught. Their claws tore at her back as they tried to get to Tanya. The little girl shouted at them to go away but even Tanya didn’t hear her as Strellie’s face was buried in Tanya’s form, trying to cover as much of the larger girl as possible. So, to stop the terrible onslaught, Demitria, bawling from the fire in her back, spun around, one of their claws catching her face. Desperatley, she shouted at the animals to stop. All at once, the crups froze. One by one, the wild creatures slunk back into the forest. Demitria passed out from blood loss, and Tanya, who suffered minimal injuries, carried her back to the house.
Demitria may have died that night if Arkhangel’sk had been any further away. They had to place her in a coma for two months for the infected wounds to heal completely. Still, even with the best medicines, they told Taras and Darya that she would still have the scars. It had been all they could do to heal them, for the crups internal magic prevented the wounds from being healed in muggle and most magical ways.
Taras had flown into a rage and kept muttering about lost money and worthless servants. Tanya disappeared from the kitchens and was never heard from again. Taras told Demitria that Tanya had run away in shame and didn’t want to see Strellie again. Demitria was a recovering child, of course she would believe her father.
Demitria’s road to recovery was slow, but being a free spirit helped. On her ninth birthday, her back was as healed as it could get, so Darya let her begin her lessons again. More than ever, her piano was her closest friend. Taras had left two weeks after Strellie woke up and hadn’t returned. He sent a few owls, but they were vauge. All they knew was that he was in Mongolia.
In early July, four wizards appeared at the manor with a note that once again changed their lives. Taras had been found in Mongolia and was arrested for treason against the Russian Ministry. He had been setting up a rebellion to overthrow the Ministry. All of the Strelnikov holdings were then confiscated by the government, leaving Darya and Demitria a considerably large portion to start their own lives somewhere else. All the kitchen muggles were obliviated and sent back to muggle cities. Darya tried moving to Moscow for a few months, but the glances and sneers that fell on her and her nine-year old daughter were too much. Packing what she owned, she found an unplottable piece of land on the coast of Wales in the U.K. She had a quaint two story house built there and finished raising Demitria on her own. Going from seeing her mother as the queen of a vast manor to a bright eyed, cookie making, laughing, wildly shopping witch was a shock to Demitria, but she soon overcame it. She once asked her mother why she had changed so much and Darya simply responded, “Because I’m finally free.”
The money the Russian Ministry had allowed them was a considerable sum, especially when going to a healing Great Britain. They lived a comfortable life with only the best life had to offer, but also in a simple way. Demitria became accustomed to waking up to her mother singing in the kitchen and the smell of pastries baking. By the time her Hogwarts letter came, Demitria didn’t want to leave her mother alone. That year was also the year that Jaska and Luca would finish at Durmstrang and they agreed to look in on their mother from time to time.
When Demitria went to Hogwarts, the hat placed her Slytherin, the house of cunning. The small girl felt as if she had been thrust back into the cold manor of her childhood, but promised herself that nothing, not even stereotypes would stop her from living how she wanted to live. In her first four years at Hogwarts, she turned out to be the Slytherin flame. A bright, easily bored, adrenaline seeking, witty, sarcastic persona was born and projected through the school. Still, she wasn’t a chatterbox or a gossip. She loves information, but only if it is useful and that meant she wasn’t one to be spurting off random quips about the season’s hottest color or other senseless things. Also, she found she didn’t care which house a person was in as long as she considered them at least an equal. If they were, then they got thrown into her enormous “friendly” group.
There was one thing that she missed above anything else, and that was her instrument. For the first three years, life passed slowly without her oldest friend to comfort her. She pleaded with all of the teachers for a piano, but all of them turned her down. Near the end of her fourth year, she was walking in a shady hallway when a door appeared out of nowhere. Out of curiosity, she entered the room and found it nearly empty except for a large, nine-foot wooden piano in the center. Every Saturday, she would sneak there to play. It was her secret and if it would mean it being taken away, she wasn’t about to share it with anyone.   


How Do You Fit Into Your House?: When the hat was placed on Demitria’s head, it had a dilemma. The hat knew many things within her pointed to Slytherin. She is cunning and sarcastic. She is drawn to the things that can help her get to the top, no matter what. To her everything has a use. Demitria is vengeful and plots the others demise, not caring to strike blindly. She studies opponents carefully, a very Ravenclaw trait, the Hat thought, but instead of finding strengths and weaknesses, she only needs to know her enemy’s weakness before continuing her plot. Still, the Hat sensed a fear of cold and harshness. It was debating putting her in Ravenclaw, but the deciding factor was a hardiness within her that told the hat she flourished in adversity. Thus, it placed her in Slytherin.

Writing Sample: The smell of cinnamon floated through the softly lit, purple room. A few notes from a piano mingled with the smells of sweet rolls and together, they danced around the light beams from the eastern window. A form wrapped in large, fluffy blankets rolled over, feeling for something on the bedside table. The searching hand, the only thing protruding from the mass of covers, found what it was looking for. A little clock was quickly pulled under the sheets, courtesy of the pale hand and a groan quickly followed.
“Six-thirty. Of all times in the world, why six-thirty?”
Swiftly a head, arms, torso, and legs popped out of the mountain of sheets and onto the floor. A giant yawn split the eleven year old’s lips. “Mat’?” Demitria called downstairs. There was no answer, but the piano’s musical tinkling was enough to know why. Standing up, the tiny 4’9” girl quickly threw on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt.
“Mat’! I’m awake. You can stop playing C scales without resolving them now. It’s driving me crazy!” Demitria cried as she descended the stairs swiftly, forsaking any elegance.
The older woman looked up at her daughter. True, Demitria may not have been her blood daughter, but raising her for the past eleven years made her as qualified as any to be Strellie’s mother. She thought hopefully that Demitria would never find out the truth of her birth.
“Strellie, you’re awake I see, and as musically aware as ever,” The brunette smiled, the mischievous twinkle in her eye mirrored by her daughter.
“Mat’, you are impossible. And-“ Demitria’s nose twitched. “Is that the smell of sweet rolls burning?”
“I completely forgot!” Darya exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen. In Russia, all rich households had wizard/witch staffs that you were required to pay. If you kept muggles, you weren’t required to pay them, but suitable living conditions were law. After moving to England, such things were unheard of and Darya absolutely, without a doubt, refused to keep houselves. She couldn’t stand the sight of the pitiful things. Sometimes, she would get a maid to clean for her, but since her house was relatively small, she usually just had Demitria do it. As for cooking, even though she did not know how, Darya was persistent in her attempts. Once again, Demitria was usually the one making the meals. All the time in the kitchens when she was younger paid off.
When Demitria walked into the obnoxious yellow kitchen (Darya had magically painted it one day and refused to repaint it, no matter how much Strellie complained), she began sneezing furiously. “Oh, Mat’ how many times have I told you not to use that much cinnamon.”
Darya rolled her eyes. “Of course you’ve told me many times, but I really thought I had it this time.”
“You say that every time.”
“Respect your mother.”
“Yes, Mat’.”
“Oh!” Darya’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. “I have a surprise for you today, darling. Which reminds me, you’ll be leaving for Hogwarts in two weeks, so start packing.” The imposing woman’s eyebrows knitted. “Which also reminds me… speak English. You’re going to go to school with that terrible accent.”
“You’re not helping by speaking in Russian all the time.”
“Respect.”
“Sorry.”
“See what I mean? How will anyone even understand you?”
“Mat’… I mean… Mother.” Demitria whined.
“Oh fine. I’ll show you you’re surprise then I can apparate us to Paris for breakfast this morning,” Darya sighed, a small smile on her face. She was greatly going to miss “her Strellie” when the little girl went away. Even though Demitria was still a munchkin, Darya had to remind herself that her daughter was, in fact, growing up.
“Cover your eyes,” The Russian witch ordered. She led Demitria into the living room of the house. This was the room where both of them spent the most time when they were at home. The walls were a beautiful shade of burgundy that contrasted beautifully with the pure white of the carpet. Various couches were splayed artfully around the room and the walls were line with bookcases. Then, there were the pianos. Demitria’s was a wooden upright. It was against the outer wall and under the window that peered out onto the ocean. The piano was protected with multiple charms against the light and dampness of its window spot.
Darya’s shiny, black, nine-foot grand was in a much more piano-conscious spot. Away from windows and other elements, it lay regally at the foot of the staircase that led to Strellie’s room. It was the one Darya had woken up Demitria with.
Once inside, a little hoot made Strellie’s eyes fly open. They scanned the room before finally finding the source of the noise lazily perching itself on her piano. “An owl? I thought I was going to take Minx.” Demitria looked at her mother, completely confused. The cat in mention looked up from his spot on the bookshelf.
“Well, for starters, I want you to be able to send letters whenever you please, not depending on whenever Mina shows up,” Darya explained pointing at her Spotted Owl. “Also, if you take Minx, how can I play the part of the crazy old cat lady?”
Demitria rolled her eyes. “Funny, mother. But only one question.”
“What would that be?”
“How is that mouse with wings supposed to carry letters?” Demitria scoffed. The Owl her mother had chosen for her was a Pygmy owl. It hopped over, sat on Strellie’s finger, and continued preening.
“He can, love. Trust me. The man at the shop demonstrated.”
One look at her daughters face told Darya she wasn’t buying it. “Oh, darling, just look at him. Isn’t he the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?”
A tiny smile crept onto Strellie’s lips. “I guess.”
“English, dear. Anyway, what are you going to name him?”
“I think I’ll call him El’fiiskii.”
“El’fiiskii. That is Elfin in English, correct.”
“Yes, Mat’.”
“Cute.” Darya’s face lit up. “El’fiiskii, welcome to your new home.”


Sum up your character in one paragraph: Demitra Strelnikov is a force to be reckoned with. One who does not make or loose friends easily, she is strong and stubborn. She loves to laugh and strives to be the very best. She’s an adrenaline junkie who gets bored with the normal and obvious. She is a light that shines bright in the dungeons. She is as free as the wind. Still, she has many secrets and many grudges she doesn’t let go of. She is prideful and sometimes can fall into a pit so cold, it freezes her heart as thoroughly as winter did the land where she was born. To her vengeance is a game she can play well, but still dislikes. Yet more than anything else, Demitria is open. To her, everything is a challenge that she is determined to take, leaving her with as many times victory as failure.                 

Accepted! ~Elle

Character Name: Demitria Slaave Strelnikov
Age: 15
Please provide a link to their Application: http://absitomen.com/index.php?topic=5404.0
Do any of your other Characters have Special Abilities?: No
If Yes, then Please provide their name and a link to their bio:
 
Special Ability: Veela Charm
What level is this ability at?: Beginner
At what age did your character gain this ability?: birth
How did they learn or hone this ability?: Veela blood runs through the Putilova (Strellie’s grandmother’s) line in twisted, overlapping ways ((see Taras Strelnikov bio for more detail)). For countless generations, there has been a constant veela influence. But not every child inherits it… It’s always been the oldest male or the youngest female. When Jaska, the older twin, didn’t inherit the veela charm, Mimi’s father Taras suspected the line ended with him. Then he had one daughter.  Demitria actually has no clue that she even has it. She knows that people tend to gravitate toward her. Plants and Animals love her. People listen to what she has to say and usually listen, but Mimi thinks that’s just because she’s a smart girl and a good strategist. Soon, though, she’ll figure out she has this ability. That’s when the work will begin to control it. 
Describe how the Special Ability influences their life.  What do they use it for?: At the moment, since she has no clue she’s even using it, her veela charm shows itself sporadically. It more leaks from her than anything else. It’s very similar to the natural, uncontrollable magic that shows up in young wizard children. It still plays a considerable influence on her life, though. How else does she manage to balance being friends with most of the school’s populace? Without her veela charm, would it even be possible to hang out with Kitty Li one day and Sophie Flickwick the next? It may seem practically impossible, but with her extra assets, it’s within her grasp. Without a little veela thrown in, the concept of a lovable bitch is slightly hard to grasp.
Write a description of what happens when your character is exhibiting this Special Ability: When Strellie is unconsciously using her veela charm, she feels like the center of the world for a few moments. Sometimes she feels giddy, but most of the time she feels powerful. She’s a manipulative, strategic genius even without veela charm, but when it acts up, those qualities are magnified by a hundred. Having the charm gives her a serious confidence boost as well. To those around her, Strellie is a bright, laughing girl who can come off as a bit bitchy. She’s just a normal highschool girl. When the veela leaks out, usually when she’s talking, people lean in slightly to listen to her. Because it’s unintentional, it isn’t hard to be disobeyed, but after hearing her, people want to do what she says. On certain days, especially those where she’s talking a lot, Mimi feels especially drained. This is an after effect of layering too much charm on.