Full Name: Olive Penelope Norris
Nicknames: Liv, Livvy, Ollie
Birthdate: April 12th, 1880
Current Age: 14
Gender: Female
Occupation: Student
Reputation: 8 - Olive carries herself as a reserved, respectful young woman, ever polite and causing no trouble. She is soft-spoken and cheerful, but her origin is a mystery. With no memories of her own origins and no clear story as to where she came from, there are no doubt whispers regarding where she came from.
Residence: A small but well-appointed townhouse in magical London.
Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff
Wand: Walnut, 11”, pliant, with a phoenix feather core
Blood Status: Half-Blood
Social Class: Middle
Family: Pandora Foxglove, of whom she is a ward. She must have once had family, but Olive remembers nothing of them, nor of her life before Pandora.
Appearance:

• Ethnicity: Caucasian
• Height: 5 feet, projected 5 feet 3 inches
• Hair: Red, loosely wavy
• Eyes: Grey
• Wand Hand: Right
• Build: Small and slight, she has begun the stage of life where rapid growth trades baby-fat for knobby knees and elbows. She appears almost brittle.
• Attire: Neat, elegant, though often a couple of years behind the present fashion. Olive always dresses modestly, with few frills, and prefers muted greens and dusty blues.
• Demeanor: Olive is a reserved, quiet creature. Not quite timid– she does not appear frightened so much as watchful, measuring her words and her movements with great care and with every ounce of the formality her tutor has taught her. She does not much like to stand out in a room, nor cause any sort of waves.
• Play-By: Annalise Basso

History:

• 1880:Olive Penelope Norris was born into a humble life, the child of a working-class mother widowed far too young.
• 1884Olive does not remember the Laughing. She does not remember anything before the Summer of ‘84, and much of what she does recall is fuzzy. A child’s memories, barely more than a toddler when her mother’s friend Pandora found her mother dead, and took Olive generously into her care.
• 1885-1990
Olive grows up in a London townhouse in the care of a nanny and a tutor, and the passing presence of her savior. Desperate for Pandora’s approval, she dedicates herself utterly to her studies. There is little a child can do to be of use to Pandora, but if she learns well then perhaps someday she might join those friends she knows not to speak of.

• 1891-1892Olive attends her first year at Hogwarts. She is something of a puzzle for the Sorting Hat– hating every second that she is perched upon that stool, the center of everyone’s attention. The relief when that Hat finally shouts her house– Hufflepuff, the home of the loyal– is nearly sickening. The year which follows is difficult for Olive. She is slow to make any real friends, wary of questions about her hazy origins. She adores her studies, but her timid nature makes her an easy target for bullying and gossip.
• 1892-1893Olive’s second year comes somewhat easier. It is, she finds, far more pleasant to watch the Sorting Ceremony than to be sorted herself, and with some tentative friendships already formed she does not have to spend the beginning of the year so utterly alone. This, of course, does little to stifle whispered rumors about her birth. Many agree she must be a bastard, and her peers whisper speculation about whose, but it hurts… less. At least, she tries to make it hurt less.
• 1893-1894Olive enters her third year at Hogwarts excited by the chance to finally explore her curiosities. She signs up for Ancient Runes, Ancient Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures. A full roster, and that suits her just fine. She would so hate to be called lazy.

Personality:

• Polite
• Patient
• Sincere
• Quiet
• Perceptive
• Withdrawn
• Cunning
• Deceitful
• Detached
• Anxious

A dutiful young woman, attentive to her studies and eager to please, if not entirely prepared to be recognized. She prefers to remain in the shadows– out of notice, but also well out of reproach, preferring a private life to one of attention and glamour. She can be quite shy, preferring to listen to others discuss their day-to-day and share little of herself. Only that small handful of friends she has come to trust would know that she is an amnesiac, with next to nothing to discuss about her past– and those few would have had to dedicate quite some months to being called friends, let alone trusted.
Other: Olive has been told that Pandora was a friend of her mother’s, and that when her mother died in the Laughing Plague, Pandora took her in. Unknown to Olive, the guardian to whom she is so completely devoted (Pandora) killed her mother out of mercy, and obliviated Olive to cover any and all tracks. Surely that won’t be a problem if she ever finds out.
Sample Roleplay Post: Each trek overseas felt longer. It didn't matter, really, how long Benedikta spent on a particular trip. Three days loomed like months in her mind. Endless. Sleepless. For all that she'd managed to wriggle free of Barnabas' overbearing grip his presence returned with a vengeance whenever she set foot in Ash. It was like the very earth flowed with his blood, his thoughts, which made this entire venture a terrible idea. Cid would have told her as much-- which was why she did not ask. Slipped away like a fugitive in the dead of night. She'd been doing that since she was a teenager, usually for reasons far less dangerous. Usually.

This venture had not taken three days. A month-- a long, hard month-- with no contact, no food, no sleep, and Benedikta stumbled back off the Twinside port with every minute spent running slamming through the backs of her knees. She looked every inch the bayside beggar. Hair overgrown, half-starved, grey in the face. She had half a mind to stagger into some alley and sleep like said beggar, but even a month into the grave Benedikta had more class than that.

She found an old crate to plop down on instead. With a brittle groan Benedikta hauled one leg up on top and unstrapped her boot, chucking it onto the ground with little care so she could massage her aching foot. That was one challenge met. Return to Storm alive, get her head straight-- half a challenge, then. Finish that and she could work on finding out where her companions had wandered. A month... they could be anywhere. They could be on Ash, for all Benedikta knew.

"Should've bought a fucking stolas," Benedikta muttered to herself, and set about unbinding the second boot.

Name: Arcadia
Age: 29
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