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February, 2019
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Tallygarunga: Term One, VMU: Summer Break

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An AU non-canon Harry Potter-inspired forum roleplay set in Australia.

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Améa Nedvidek

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Améa Nedvidek last won the day on June 23 2018

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    Améadruella Ellazandre Nedvidek
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    Isle du L'Arine
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    Animal Carer
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    Kaya Scodelario

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  • Status Counter 4
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  • Playerx Sadrienne
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  • Birthdate Day 23
  • Birthdate Month 10
  • Birthdate Year 1993
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  1. Améa almost had a tan. It was bizarre to see. Her family were naturally a very pale colour, but being sickly for so long had made it worse. Yet it seemed that even her fair blood couldn't block out the rays of the Australian sun as she worked across the property, and for the first time in her life Améa had a healthy golden glow to her skin. Upon seeing this, Mary had taken to ensuring the girl never left the house without a hat now. Fortunately, Améa was still a stickler about her modest long sleeved outfits and saved herself from getting too burned. Life had settled in a very pleasant way for her. While she still had bouts of sadness and loneliness, there was plenty enough company to keep them at bay. She missed Zane less every day, looked forward to her days with the animals, with Vladimir. She had begun to learn cooking, even a little sewing from Mary. She was still building up the courage to have that honest talk with Stuart, but it didn't feel urgent. Not yet. Améa felt comfortable and at home here. She couldn't remember feeling like that ever before. Once she had gone so far as to slip up and call Mary "Grandmiere". Whether that was a compliment to the woman, or an insult, she wasn't yet sure. No one had made anything of it, good or bad. She was reading when the knock came at her door. Silent and swift as the wind itself, she was at the other side, turning the handle. She knew by the rhythm, the very sound of his bones against the wood that it was him. Instinctively, she knew. It couldn't be any other, and she opened the door with a smile that quickly turned to a concerned frown as he asked for help. "Yes, yes," she said, ushering him in. Normally she might have left the door ajar for Faireth, not overly concerned by her own privacy in the house and she often slept with it open. Tonight she closed it behind them, tugging until she heard the solid click of the mechanisms falling into place. Améa did not want to share Vladimir's company with anything or anyone right now, not even her beloved cat. Not even the very space beyond her cosy bedroom. "What is that you need, mine Vladimir?" Améa stood in the center of the room, watching him carefully. Afraid he might crumble into dust. He needed help, and this meant she should worry. Her heart thumped with sudden anxiety, a thousand and one thoughts of what terrible things might be happening, and still... and still his presence soothed her soul. How was that even possible? To be so worried for someone, and yet so calmed by their existence?
  2. Améa's head tilted slightly as he spoke, taking in his words with serene silence. She knew, very well the emotions and passion that could come from a feeding. The intimacy of it. It would never be merely a matter of convenience and permission, she knew that. She knew it would develop and deepen a bond that was already well out of their control, and in that knowledge she felt comfortable. They had sworn to protect each other, to be there until the end of days---how was this different? Their intimacy was not physical, but it was very much real. "You worry I would reject you, like Terrible One," she observed softly. "That is not mine way. Is like that you are having faults, angers, even be frightening in times---I have no fear. Not of you. Not ever. I am know what ever is you do, is always of love. For one you are caring, you do anything. How can be afraid when knowing pure source of these moments? How can be afraid when mine fault is as deep? I will not reject. Even if is that you become monster, mine monster you will be. Let them fear. Let them hate, mine Vladimir---I will not turn away." Améa stood from her position on the roof, Faireth sliding down to sit on the tiles. A calm had overcome her, a confidence that was otherworldly. Everything right here and right now made sense and Améa let it guide her. Her hand reached out, tips of her fingers stroking Vladimir's cheek. Her heart skipped as she did, those uncomfortably wonderful feelings returning. The ones that made her dream. The ones she couldn't shut out however hard she tried. "I promise always, always we will be. Always."
  3. The words were gone, but the feeling was not. When Vladimir asked what it was she had been about to say, Améa found herself with nothing. Just that deep sense of admiration and awe, gratitude, and the slight tingling in her belly from watching his hands caress the instrument with such raw talent. Her cheeks heated up at the question, she ducked her head in bashful apology. Whatever she had been about to say, she was certain that it was not appropriate. Not suitable for the life they had, the situation they had found themselves in. Eventually she looked back up at him, tucking a long length of dark hair back behind an ear as she did. "Everything is much fine," she said, her cheeks still a vibrant pink. "Mine mind did wander in your beautiful music, you make easy to be getting lost in sound." it was a compliment, and one of the highest sort from Améa. Even the enchantment hadn't entirely been the music, but Vladimir himself who captured her imagination and made her prone to daydreams. It was getting worse by the day and she knew that, but what could she do? Something did occur to her in that moment, as once again she found herself admiring how he sat with the cello. How impossible it was that he could see anything less than she did, when he looked in the mirror. And even if it was always harder to love yourself than someone else, how anyone else could have believed he was a monster. The thought made her angry as it always did, a fierce anger that she vowed to inflict on anyone who would degrade him so again. It didn't matter to her what he was, he was Vladimir. He could never be a monster. "I am been think of late," she added in the gentle but comfortable silence. "Is much you are do for me, mine good friend and protector---always I am yours, this you is must know. But also you is make beautiful music and delight, this I not do back, is not..." Améa struggled for a word. "Is not even. But is other thing I am can do, and willing for. You is must not refuse, mine Vladimir. I is insist." her tone was serious now. "You is feed of me, not just when must but when want," Améa made the distinction clear with emphatic hand gestures. "You is be strong, best of self. Always. Is no harm to me, this we is know. No guilt you feel for desires, this I is demand. Okay?"
  4. "I am not Spencer!" Améa said, her voice hot with deep offense. Perhaps their father had been, and that was fine, but Améa was Sturt. Sturt loyal, even now. Once she was assigned to something, Améa would honour it until the day she died. For all that she had hated her time at Tallygarunga, and as much as she had never been a "team player", she still very strongly saw herself as a Sturt. Huffing out of flared nostrils, she gave Jezebel a disappointed look, as though her twin should have known better. "Of course we tell, is bad to kidnap even sisters," she added as though that too should have been obvious. Améa wasn't overly fond of shopping, but every book and TV show she had ever seen suggested it was an ideal thing for sisters to do together. She already had an image of the four of them in stylish outfits and takeaway coffee, bags hanging off their arms full of bargains. It was worth a little pain having to go into the city and through crowds for something like that, right? Anything that stopped Lauren becoming more bitter and withdrawn than she already was. Améa knew that road too well and she was keen to have their younger sister avoid it. The picnic did sound like a legitimately good idea to Améa, who loved being out among nature. Although this would also mean a full day away from the animals at home, and that was a thought that tugged at her heart. She would just have to give them extra attention before and after she went. "Vladimir is also suggest---I tell Mr Stuart truths of me," Améa added slowly. "He know then if I am daughter good enough. He make choice if I am... if I am allowed." Her voice shook with uncertainty to the end, worried that he would decide against her. Be afraid of what she could, and would, do. It was clear that her attachment to Stuart had increased enough that she was afraid to lose what she had, but still felt it was dishonest with all that (she thought) he didn't know. "You will.. sneak Mrs Mary cooking to me if he decide no?" she asked, a raw and sorrowful whisper at the very prospect of being cut off from Stuart and his family.
  5. Fully awake now, Caleb sat up a little---and stared in confusion at Bethianna lying still on the floor. He couldn't quite comprehend what had just happened, only knew that now he felt---different. Everyone felt different around him, Alex moreso. Alex had always been an exception in Caleb's broad dislike of anyone who was not Adele, and he had always been very attached to his uncle from the moment they met. This was something else entirely. And to Cass and Caitlin he felt a similar, but still different, draw. Sensing she could now move, Adele bolted across the room, wrapping Caleb in a deathly tight hug and mouthing her thanks to Cass. When no one else had been able to do anything, Cass had been there to comfort her boy--and that was something Adele appreciated with her whole heart. Adele also didn't give a damn that her boy was now a sorceror, that his eyes had changed colour, or anything outside of the fact that he was alive. Bethianna's sacrifice had shocked her, but she had no tears for the woman yet. Adele was just relieved that Caleb, too, had not been a casualty of the day. Améa let her own hands drop, realising that if the hold was removed, Alex was likely strong enough to exist on his own. Her gaze was fixed on Bethianna, and her heart was filled with pain. Glad that Caleb was still with them, but like Alex her connection to Bethianna was something more than just her grandmother's rival. Bethianna had taught Améa almost everything she knew, when neither her mother nor her grandmother cared to acknowledge her existence. "Why is... she would do this?" came Améa's mournful cry, before turning a furious gaze toward Millea. "And why is you let none help? Just more some energy, all she need! Us all here, some could help, you make stop!" Millea's expression remained calm even as Améa snapped at her. "Because this was her wish." Millea's simple answer did nothing to soothe Améa, who felt it a poor excuse. How could Millea possibly have known what Bethianna's wish was? Lillian, who was just as upset by her twin's actions, though more quietly so, scoffed in disbelief. "Lian, you know as well as I, and certainly as well as Thia, that a living sorceress can bequeath herself entire to another if she so chooses. Or if she is forced to," Millea added. That had been a dark time in their history. "If this circle failed, if the Violet failed, Thia demanded my word that I would break this chain and allow Alexander that last chance. She knew the cost, and she came here prepared to pay it. All that changed was the vessel to which she bequeathed herself." "We could have help!" Améa insisted. Millea shook her head. "And bequeathed yourself in the process, you ought to know than any other here. Did you not almost bequeath yourself to a mortal husband?" Millea's raised eyebrow was enough for Améa to back down, and it seemed that the woman had been keeping a far closer eye on the family than anyone would have guessed. Crossing the room, Millea took a knee beside the empty shell of Bethianna. She closed her eyes, holding a hand above the woman's blank face, and the body shimmered in the air before flickering out, leaving just a pale crystal in its place. Millea picked it up, held it to the light. The faintest green tinge ran through the gem. "This ought to be yours," she said, handing the gem to Caitlin. "After all, she was your mother."
  6. Was that... was that a bashful smile, and a lean in to the hug that Jezebel gave her? All of these feelings, so sudden and new---she was almost a different person with these smiles and affection and family connection. Her words had pleased Jezebel enough to move and embrace her, and this was... a thrilling feeling. This was sisters being as sisters should be, a place that Améa had never dared dream she would find. Perhaps that was the reason for her concern over Lauren, the hope that their younger sister would also find her way to this happiness. It seemed... very far away. But it had seemed impossible to Améa once, too. "Lorelei is be difficult to her refuse," Améa nodded, the bond between those two girls was far stronger than even blood. The apology would be far trickier. Améa wasn't the sort to avoid something, though, simply because it was difficult. It would need to be real. It would need to be... meaningful. Mea knew she had a lot to apologise for, but at the same time, she felt that many of the reasons behind her actions were very similar to the reasons Lauren herself was so unhappy. Perhaps she could help the girl avoid holding on to that sadness, and find a way forward? Even if Améa couldn't say she liked Adele that much, she at least could be in the same room with her. She at least accepted that Adele had become better over time. "Is not like she be can escape if we do take for lunch," Améa added with a waggle of her eyebrows. Humor? Humor? Even if she was suggesting that they dragged Lauren out against her will, took advantage of the fact that the girl couldn't use her magic to get away, as a means of forcing her to bond with them... Améa was making a joke. Kind of. Maybe she had just spent too much time with Stuart that she was starting to consider pranks of all things. Kidnapping was a prank, right?
  7. Améa's confused and solemn expression warmed at the mention of Nika, as it always did. The unconventional arrangement seemed to be working for all involved, and Nika was happy which was the most important part. There was no question that, being here now, Améa would wait until the children woke up to surprise them and spend some time before she returned home. Améa nodded with a smile still on her lips. While adjusting to being with her family again had been a rough road, the children made it all worthwhile. Their willingness to simply accept her as she was, the fact there was no bad blood already between them. That had made it easier. And even this here, an early morning cup of tea with Jezebel---these were rewards she had not expected to find along the way. It may have been panic and confusion that had driven her here, but it had driven her here. To her sister, to talk about the normal sorts of things that sisters talked about. The feeling in her chest was warm, fuzzy, and dangerously close to happiness. That always scared her. She had begun to connect with Jezebel properly, had a special friendship with Vladimir... was she allowed to have this much? Améa tried not to think about that. "It is all silly dreams in any matter," she said with a shake of her head. The idea that she could be allowed to be happy with Vladimir was a little preposterous, and hinged very absolutely on whether he would ever feel the same. Best to chalk it all up to stupid lust, bodily urges that were determined to be as inconvenient as possible. Anything else was just too tricky to even entertain. "I am glad for you being mine sister," Améa added, the open acknowledgement of their shared blood unusual enough. The warmth and genuine affection in her tone just made it all the stranger. But pleasant. Her time back in Narrie had definitely had a positive effect. Which brought her to another matter of concern, and one she had puzzled on since that night at Adele's house. Améa herself had been distant and bitter when she first came to Narrie all those years ago, and over time she had found her place. Lauren had a long way to go, but... was there a way they could make it smoother for her? "It is needed I make up for hurts to our young sister," she said softly. "Heal what is been broken, help her too find family. I---is not being sure what for start with."
  8. Was she even breathing? The music faded away, but her rapture did not. The world was so small and so perfect, she couldn't take her eyes away for fear of letting reality back in. Even Faireth, cosied up on her knee, was forgotten for a time. This moment belonged to them, the bond so intense and so strong and so real. At any other time, with any other person, such prolonged eye contact would be weird and uncomfortable. There was no hiding here, either. Améa had reached a point beyond concealing herself from Vladimir. She made no effort to obscure her pure love of his music, and whatever else that she harboured there but feared to name. Very few saw her this expressive. Almost none saw her in this state of true happiness. Her dreams may have plagued her with unwanted desires, but the truth was that she was awed by him. He called her "my dear" and those two words made her heart sing. Had she not been frozen in place by his gaze, she might have stood---rushed forward to embrace him. Crashed into that strong body, laced her fingers between his---worshipped them for the magic and the music that they made. Zane's strength had been false. She knew that now. A farce held up by pain, he "proved" his strength with a fist. Vladimir did not need to. Vladimir did not crumble, he did not lose himself if she said the wrong thing, made a wrong step. And he wove beauty from wood and strings. Zane had never made music. Zane had never made anything beautiful for her. Not even herself, and not even as she dedicated every moment to him. Her every breath. That devotion had nearly brought about her end, she had thought that a mere and expected consequence of love. Yet her connection to Vladimir was as strong, arguably stronger than that she had felt to Zane. She did not feel depleted in his presence, she felt energised. Améa's mouth parted a little, breathing in as still she stared back into his eyes. She wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know that when he spoke, her heart skittered a little. That she never felt more secure than when he was near. That the best part of waking up was rushing to his room, and seeing him again. That for all the flaws he hated in himself, he was impossibly perfect in her eyes, that she would quite happily spend the rest of her life reminding him that he was no monster. He was her Vladimir, protector and friend, and no one would ever be able to convince her otherwise. The words bubbled to the surface, her thighs tensed ready to stand and let it all out----but Vladimir spoke first. And the moment was gone. Instead she nodded, certain before the first note even sounded that it would be to her liking. She relaxed again, the words settling back into feelings, admiration and awe. Gods, but if only she wasn't married.
  9. Améa was not familiar with the music by its name. She knew the names of very few pieces, and when she did know what they were called, always found the names paled in comparison to the stories told within the notes. Nor was she particularly familiar with much music outside of what Vladimir played, what was popular around town. The majority of the music she knew was songs of her homeland, pieces entirely unknown here. She would have to start bringing Vladimir sheets to play, she still had them. Back at home. Locked away where the poor violin had been. From the first note she was spellbound. This was normal. Even Faireth stopped her fussing, allowed Améa to absently pat her while the two of them watched Vladimir play with quiet intensity. The long, dulcet tones wrapped around her, the world outside their rooftop seemed to fade away. Sollozzo could have walked up behind her and she would not have noticed, so completely enthralled was she in the music. Watching Vladimir's body as he moved with it, feeling his heart and soul sing between the strings. Melancholic, longing, a delicate dance of desire and hope, fear and caution. She did not know what the piece was called, no. But she knew that it reflected well enough the internal battle that kept her awake long after dark. Did he fight the same battle? She had asked that he play his heart... was this some clue, that he watched her with the same thoughts as she watched him? No---Améa knew she couldn't even begin to let her mind wander down that track. And Vladimir was far too polite for such thoughts. He was her good friend, her protector, and she was a mite confused and (ahem) thirsty with all that had happened over the past twelve months. Vladimir was a man of honour. She couldn't imagine him being driven by such base wants. Captivated, she watched, listened, eyes locked onto Vladimir and almost unblinking. A profound love of music, something else, or... both?
  10. By law, Améa knew she didn't have to. Her personal code was far stricter than the law, though. Laws could be broken when it was required, but her own code could not. And like Jezebel, Améa had seen the dark side of broken vows. And sexual thirst. Adele's quest for blind intimacy and satisfaction had driven her to marry Thomas, and when he was not enough, sought out others too. That had been the beginning of all of this. Thomas was not the first she had done this too either, only the most dangerous to date. Not an example she wanted to follow. Jezebel was not helping as she detailed the insight that Viktor (and therefore, Vladimir) had in those matters. Améa knew well enough the benefits of heightened senses, a previous relationship with a full vampire had been quite educational. Though she had assumed that Vladimir would be gifted in that manner, the confirmation put a significant dent in her resolve. Could she? Should she? Just once? No. "I want for sharing all things with Vladimir," she said, as though this were--or should have been--obvious. "Vladimir is mine good friend, he is protect me and I is protect Vladimir." So she supposed that made sense enough. Her bond with Vladimir was based in trust and it stood to reason that with the feeling of safety she felt near him, such thoughts could creep in. Yes, that was logical. She wasn't so preoccupied with whatever horrible thing might come next, and so her mind was free to wander and think about other needs that she had. She wished it bloody wouldn't. Jezebel's solution might be her best bet. She didn't like it, but she had to do something. Améa took another scone. "It is must do until mine husband is ended," she added with a soft sigh. Because that was the only way out, in her mind. Only until death could she truly part.
  11. And that was it, the violin was being restored. Améa pushed back her unease over the project, better to leave it in Vladimir's capable hands. At least once restored, it could be put away properly, preserved in absolute perfection. She liked the idea of that. She could not part with it, but perhaps a case and display worthy of the violin's beauty, that would be a fitting tribute. Maybe one day, it wouldn't hurt so much to look at it. She followed him back out to the yard, the matter settled. Though she still had half a mind to find her grandmother, demand to know who and why and what on earth they thought they were doing bringing it here, that anger could wait. This afternoon was for music. Faireth circled around her ankles, and she bent down to scoop up the kitten-sized cat just seconds before Vladimir spirited all three up to the rooftop. An experience the cat did not appreciate all that much, though Améa simply shook off the uncomfortable prickling of wizard magic from her system. Perching herself comfortably on the rise of the roof, she settled Faireth into her lap, stroking her fair white coat as she stared intently at Vladimir. "I wish for to hear you play your heart," she said. Essentially whatever felt best, whatever best represented Vladimir's state of being. The cat purred under her attentions, nestling in against the fabric of her skirt as Vladimir prepared to play. The afternoon was nice, so clear and quiet. From here Améa could spot Mary's cabin, most of the animals she tended, and well out toward the township of Narrie, across the flat earth. It wasn't the storeys-high view from Tallygarunga, but it was still nice. "Play for me what you is feel."
  12. "Separate or in same room, married is be married," Améa said with an air of finality. She had made vows, and vows were not to be broken. To death the vows had said, and while she knew she couldn't go back, did she still intend to be loyal? That wasn't something she had even considered. The prospect of breaking those vows was abhorrent to her, but did she really plan to wait until Zane reached the end of his life to move on? It seemed the only solution. Divorce was as sour a word as adultery. "I do not want for wanting it," the last was said with an irritated huff. None of this would be a problem if she wasn't having these dreams, and these urges. Whether it was normal or health, Améa didn't care. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to go back to the time where it was purely functional, not wrapped up in all of these confusing feelings and curiosities. She understood that. Besides, doing such things to further her own happines... that didn't seem right either. But if she wasn't married? If Jezebel's hypothetical was the reality... what would she do? Améa chewed at her bottom lip, deep in thought. "If it is no consequence," she started slowly. "If still Vladimir be mine friend after, if he does want for same---I think then maybe I try," a blush crept up her neck again and an anxious giggle bubbled out of her mouth. "Know for if talented hands make for same music in me as in instrument." Did she want more though? That was hard to answer. What more could there be? What they had was rather wonderful, why risk anything else? Especially when there was her married status in the way, the looming shadow of Zane and his family. And there were other things. Important things, that Améa knew would be an issue in any future they had. Like the fact that he would be a wonderful father, deserved a family of his own, and she still steadfastly swore that she would be no true mother. The blush returned at Jezebel's offer. She wasn't sure what to say. Thank you? Scream and run out the door? "Not is not ready," Améa corrected her instead. "Is not right."
  13. The violin was--or had been--a masterpiece. Lovingly hand-crafted, a one-of-a-kind work made specifically for Améa. It had been beautiful, once. Now it was the sad and neglected reminder of the father who had it made for her, simple, elegant, clean and with no effort spared in selecting the finest materials and adjusting for the sweetest sound. It had been her absolute joy, this violin. She had never seen another that compared, though even the most perfect of examples would always pale in her eyes against the one she had loved so much. Seeing it here and now, in the harsh daylight, she realised how broken it had become. She hadn't loved it enough. She had let it die, like she had her father. Of course, Vladimir didn't know how it got here. Améa wasn't sure why she had asked, except to vent the burst of anger. This had her mothers' family written all over it, specifically her grandmother. What was she playing at now? Améa was sick of the games. Seeing Vladimir handle the instrument, her heart twisted. How could she have done this? Perhaps it was only a violin, an object, a thing in the world, but the way Vladimir cradled it, the way he looked down as if it were a wounded animal, she felt remorse for what he saw. "Mine father had this made for me," she said after a long and sad moment. "I do not play now." And he knew why, too. When he asked if he could restore it, Améa fought back the urge to snatch it from his hands. No. He was being kinder to the violin than she had in many years, she had no right to do that. An instrument like this deserved... better. So she nodded, she would allow him to restore it. That at least seemed appropriate. The next was a flutter of confused delight as he uttered the words "my dear", quickly followed by a deep uncertainty. Be there when it was repaired? For what reason? Would he need her assistance in the task? Did she have to? Maybe it would be better just to lock it away again... but still... it would mean more time with Vladimir. Watching him work. Talking about music. Listening to music. Feeling safe and happy and connected and did it even matter if the violin was a part of it? She was curious as to how Vladimir went about restoring instruments anyway, it wasn't like she would be playing it, and this way she would be able to ensure that the finished result was worthy of her father. "Even if you go to depths of hell, mine Vladimir, for any reason I will go with---only need is you want for me there," she said with a half smile. "If mine company is your desire, this I give in you working."
  14. Yes. That was the word she was trying to avoid. Améa visibly flinched at the sound of it, so vulgar. Jezebel's mention of Viktor being attentive hadn't missed her attention either, she was actively trying to push away any further wonderings on that particular subject. Vladimir was, after all, the sort who did not leave a job done in half---nor could one fault his attention to detail. It would certainly be a different experience compared to her husband, whose primary aim had been to fill his own needs and if that happened to coincide with her own, that was convenient. It was bound to be a very thorough experience with someone like Vladimir. This curiosity was new to her. By and large, she saw sex as a functional thing. You could make new people with it, or you could trade it for something you needed. Or, if you were married, it was a part of the things that couples did. Prude though she could be, Améa wasn't shy when it had purpose like that. But to daydream about someone? To imagine such things with them, to wonder constantly about the reality? That made no sense to her. And there was no obvious advantage to be gained from that sort of intimacy with Vladimir aside from simply doing it. It was wrong. "I do not know if anything else I want, anything else I cannot think about," she frowned. "And every case, Jezebel, I am married. Is not appropriate. Vladimir is mine good friend, he does make safe feeling again---I reward this with make target for mine husband and uncle? No. Is not for worth, just because I be... what you did say." Améa buried the distress in a scone heaped with jam and cream. Bad move. Cream and jam flew across the table, Améa spluttering and spitting in the wake of Jezebel's suggestion. Was her sister really talking about that? It was the height of pointless self-indulgent exercises. She shook her head, clearly she hadn't tried that particular method. "That is only way to make dream go away?" she asked, hoping for another answer.
  15. "No, they are not the separate!" Améa's voice turned to a squeak in her embarassment. How could Jezebel say it so casually? "In dream, Vladimir is there and play me like cello!" It was too much. Améa's ears were so red, and so hot, she feared they were going to burn. She had spent a terrible amount of time lately watching and listening to him play. But mostly watching his fingers move, the self-assured strength as they travelled up and down the instrument. The absolute precision and delicacy of the movements, so fast in places---but slow and sensual in others. At this point there was little Vladimir could do that Améa didn't link to less child-friendly thoughts, but it happened most when he was playing music. "It is not much of fair," Améa said with a frown. "Vladimir worth much and more than these thoughts," Améa froze as she realised that she had also now admitted to the waking thoughts as well as the dreams. "But... is all can be thinking of. Sometimes am miss Zane too, but mostly am just..." Améa tilted her head awkwardly, not wanting to say the word. To be so preoccupied with one thing like this, it was disgusting to her. It made her worry that she would end up on the same path as Adele, driven and owned by that need for closeness. Also, it was quite embarassing. "If Vladimir not always around, then maybe just dreams it is---but he there, and think maybe it is he become in part of it because he close by," she explained, quite certain in her belief that it was simply a matter of Vladimir being the closest eligible bachelor that had caused her dreams and daydreams to fixate on him. It probably could have been anyone and that's what bothered her most. All for the sake of a biological desire that paraded around like a desperate need. "How fix, Jezebel? Want for making dream stop."
Améadruella Ellazandre Nedvidek
Animal Carer 0
25* year old Halfbreed Sorceraic She/Her
Age:  25*
Date of Birth: October 23rd, 1993
Birthplace: Isle du L'Arine
Occupation: Animal Carer
Blood Status: Halfbreed
Species: Sorceraic
Player:  ★ Sadrienne
Pronouns: She/Her
Play-by: Kaya Scodelario

Tallygarunga (Dropped out in fourth year)


Her mother's identity and her royal connections, the homeland she comes from, everything about the life she was born to is a secret from most people. She hides as many of her feelings as possible, wanting the world to see her as invincible. She has a strong sense of loyalty and love to her family, though she never wants to say the words out loud. She both loves and fears her husband, and is afraid that if she walks away, she won't have anything or anyone left.

General Knowledge

Very little is known about Améa outside of her family. She dropped out of Tallygarunga after failing to pass fifth year multiple times, and moved away at the insistence of her husband Zane. Those who do know her know that there's something not quite right about that marriage, and though they've tried to help, only Améa knows the full extent of it and she refuses to be helped.


She's not easy to understand. She is for the most part, a cool calculating woman with a very serious look on life. She takes things personally, and deals with them in a businesslike manner that sends chills across the room. She rarely shows visible emotions, except when she absolutely cannot help it. Her mind works logic in a way completely different to most people, and her solutions to problems are often bizarre. Words mean a lot to Améa, a promise is potent - the word 'love' alone carries volumes and she is somewhat afraid of the word. She takes her life very seriously, believing everyone has a purpose - and she fully intends to fulfill hers.

At times, to those she knows and trusts (a rarity in Améa's life) she is a passionate and caring sort of person. Her choice to endure a child's life was made out of love for her mother, and her desire to create the mother-daughter bond Adele had never wanted to form earlier. She is a child at heart, with a child's needs - but she refuses to acknowledge those 'weaknesses'.


Méa is of medium height, with very pale skin and long black hair that falls to her waist when not tied up. Like the others in her family, she has intense blue eyes that often appear cold, and she is not well known for smiling. She carries herself like a lady, having been brought up with very oldfashioned values, she dislikes clothing with sleeves shorter than her wrists, and thinks that skirts higher than the shin are the sign of 'loose' women. Needless to say, she dresses quite conservatively. She tends to favour blue and lavender in her clothing, and does not wear a lot of jewellery. When she does, it is simple and always in silver.


She was born on the island of L'Arindelle, the heir to the throne. Her father plotted revenge against his wife - Adele, the queen - who had shunned both her husband and her daughter from the very start. Améa, who felt she should possibly be angry at her mother, originally sided with her father before realising her duty as a L'Arine citizen was first to her mother, then her father. 

As a result, it was Améa who put the knife in Pieru's back, stopping his plans of lynching Adele and her lover. Améa lived with that guilt for years, dressing herself up as the mute benefactress Bryndellyn, and refusing to speak a word to anyone. She trained silently under the instruction of grandmother Lillian, and Adele's hated stepmother - Bethianna DeVylissea. She was surprisingly strong in her abilities, surpassing her mother's achievements easily. She lost her innocence early, as tends to happen with those who play their age as older than it is - but never gave herself quite completely.

She lived for a time with Adele and her then-lover David Tallenery, until a fight caused Adele to leave the city of Melbourne for a smaller place, Améa returned home to learn more of her future role. She visited Narrie some months later, to find her mother clinically dead - and with her grandmother's help, returned her to life as a full sorceress. Adele's mishaps with her new power led her to being cut off, and demoted from her position as queen - which Améa was then elevated to. But there were those who didn't like Améa's strict, and sometimes old fashioned ways. She was slipped a draught to quell her powers, and locked into child form so that she was defenceless. 

Lillian rescued her from her captors, bringing her back to her mother for safekeeping - but it was only momentary, as she was kidnapped again and brought back to the island. She was rescued the second time by her mother, and chose to remain as a child (Adele believed she was still locked into it, and would be forced to grow out of it) so that she could continue building on the relationship that had started to form between her and her mother.

Adele's drive to protect her led to some disastrous choices, including marriage to a known criminal in her attempt to find Améa a 'father figure' that could keep them both from harm. In an ironic twist, it was Thomas's threat to Améa's safety that pushed Adele's choice to rid herself out of Améa's life once and for all, thus ensuring her safety. An accident appeared to have killed her mother Adele, and so Améa went into the care of a professor at the school. She also fell in love with an older student who broke her heart, an unwise relationship that she was not ready for.

When Adele came back into her life, Améa was unsure of what to do, torn between her foster family and her true family, Améa struggled to find a place where she belonged. As her mother's relationship with Kellan Miles took a bad turn and her baby brother Caleb was born, life seemed to be pointless overall. She failed several years of school and still struggles, sticking at the Academy only out of pride.

Adele eventually admitted that Jezebel Blair was Améa's half sister, and possibly twin. Améa is both intrigued by her sister, and wary of forging too close a bond with the girl. Améa doesn't quite trust that any family will stand by her, especially a relation as important as a sister. 

When Adele reconnected and married David Tallenery, Améa refused to accept him on the grounds that he had already walked out of their lives before. She felt she couldn't trust anyone she was related to, and so she sought the comfort of a relationship. She met Zane Nedvidek and fell for him immediately, his strength and dominating character made him irresistible to her. She married him against the advice of her family, and now lives with him in a house in Narrie.

Her life revolves around Zane. She lives to please him, to cook and to clean for him. He is always her highest priority, her own health and wellbeing irrelevant. When he asked her to move, she did with no questions---cutting off as much contact with her family as they would allow. Jezebel sometimes manages to speak with her, but the conversations are strained and cryptic.

Active OOC Completed