mod ana, nova hypatia vector, and 2 more like this
Post by Harmony Vector on Jul 14, 2023 16:49:11 GMT -7
Harmonious 'Harmony' VECTOR
WAND cherry, unicorn hair, 10" - rigid.
APPEARANCE 5'8" - Harmony looks much like her playby. | pronunciation hahr-mon-ee nickname harmony. age & birthday 36 29th Feb 1992 gender & pronouns she/her blood status Half-Blood (Half-Veela) sexuality heterosexual face claim blake lively | |||||||||||||||||||||||
PERSONALITY In Harmony’s mind, personality is nothing but the face a witch puts on in the morning. Does she rouge, for sweetness? Or darken her lips, for attraction? Is her smile crooked, to appear charming? Or, does she wear a thoughtful frown, to appear wizened? Her character is based on her fleeting understanding of what she feels will aide her most in her adventures. Harmony values wealth and success, it is all she has ever strived to know. She is a woman of depth, but few may see beyond her painted façade. She desires less to be understood, than respected. Harmony has a deep, controlling love for her three children. They belong to her, in her eyes. She created them, three little protégé to mould as she sees fit. Her mother taught her how to control, and be controlled. She attempts to wield this with her children, with limited success. A clever, ambitious woman, Harmony will stop at nothing to achieve what she most desires. Even if this is to her children’s detriment. She cannot excavate herself from that which she deems intrinsic to her being. She has a complicated understanding of ‘self’ outside of her own personal opinion. Harmony has never had to share her freedoms, so why should she sacrifice to please another? She has an impressive rage – something left over from her mother, and is known to lash out if she feels cornered or rejected. ORIGIN & RELATIONS hampshire, england father - archibald sallow, property investor (deceased 2020) mother - duchess sallow, full-time mother (unknown) step-mother – anna sallow, full-time wife (deceased 2020) husband - octavian vector sr., con-artist (deceased 2021) step-child - octavian archimedes vector jr. , arithmancy professor, b. 1996 step-child - nova hypatia vector , baker at the pi pâtisserie, b. 2003 step-child - ada vector, b. 2009 step-child - irené vector, b. 2009 daughter - idele venn vector , b. 2012 son - isaac vector, b. 2012 son - alan vector, b. 2012 HISTORY It is considered a punishment from the Gods to be born beautiful, at least that is what Harmony’s grandmother used to say. Over a nip of sherry, flushed in the face and potted with liver spots and deep crevices she powdered smooth as she could. Harmony remembered looking up at her and saying quite plainly ‘and how would you know, nana?’. Alas, that was Harmony’s second lesson in life, beauty is anything but everlasting, but it was worth its weight in gold if wielded it correctly. Harmony is the result of a purely advantageous and ‘ill fitting’ marriage. She did not know quite how her parents had met, but her father was a fickle man according to all who knew him. ‘Good with the galleons, that’s about it’, she heard often from her grandparents. They did not approve of their ‘good blooded’ son marrying a Veela he’d met in the South of France. ‘Base creatures’, her nana would say into the bottom of her sherry glass. ‘Full of beauty and ambition’, and true enough it was. Duchess was a creature who beguiled Archibald and married him sweetly, never quite showing just what she was capable of. She’d come form a nameless nest who encouraged their broods to marry well blooded wizards and to have respectable, magical offspring. Duchess moved back to Hampshire with Archibald once they were married, kept like a polished trophy to be taken out and displayed at fancy dinners and charity events. ‘Look what I have, see how beautiful it is, how rare!’. Harmony was born soon into their union, with Duchess’s hand wound tightly around her pretty little neck. She would not allow her precious child to be anything but perfect. A cold woman, Harmony had no warm memories of her mother. She remembered a face that was so pale it seemed to gleam like fresh moonlight. She remembered milk sweetened with honey and cold fingers that would pull at her cheeks to remind her ‘smile, smile pretty’, in her curling, base language. One she only shared with Harmony. Duchess taught her daughter the importance of being a woman. Harmony was never to cry unless it helped her get what she wanted. ‘Never cry if you mean it, sweetpea,’ her mother would say. ‘Only when it means nothing at all’. She was punished if she disobeyed these fine orders, and soon became the picture of perfection. A little blonde baby with soft skin and a gleaming white smile. Everybody was beguiled by the even-tempered doll, but behind closed doors Harmony’s palms were stripped raw for her voluminous rage. As a young child, Harmony attended tutored lessons in magic, history and even Latin. She could play piano, paint water colours and speak French and German. She was her mother’s pride and joy, the second trophy to be taken out at parties and lofted about, performing choreographed dances and singing for the simple joy of guests she was never allowed to fully interact with. And at the end of each performance, she was permitted to smile sweet, hold out her palm and charm the guests for a fine gold coin. Behind closed doors, Harmony would rage in silence, expelling what she was not allowed to in common company. Even half-Veela’s may be born with the creature’s searing rage. Harmony was invited to attend Hogwarts, but Duchess refused vehemently. She spoke at great lengths with her husband, lighting many fires in their sprawling Hampshire estate as she raged on. It was a school with a terrible reputation, it wasn’t safe, it was out of control. There was no way to monitor Harmony’s progression, she had no faith in the simple-minded wizarding professors. Harmony would wilt in such an environment. It was settled eventually that she may be homeschooled, attending examinations at the school only, so that she may leave with the proper qualifications. Duchess slept easy at night, with her ear pricked for any sound of a wandering daughter. Harmony knew no better, though she was desperately lonely. Harmony’s father paid no dear interest to his only daughter, he had always wished for a son. Someone to inherit his profession and his fortune. A thing Duchess refused to give him, she had no want for a son, not when she had given him a prideful daughter. This vexed him greatly, for he saw no gain from a single daughter. That was, of course, until she was a little older. When good, well-respected families began asking Archibald how keen he was to have his daughter married when she was of age. Archibald Sallow finally, after 15 years of overlooking his little girl, realised how he might gain from having just one child. He would accept no offer less than the best, finally taking his daughter under his wing as he began arranging courtship meetings. Harmony was invited to luncheons, given endless bouquets and sweet favours. This, of all her lessons in dictation and decorum, was Harmony’s most favoured practice. Oh, she did love to be loved. Boys dropped at her feet like dying insects, desperate to impress their parents and secure the pretty Sallow bride. Harmony preened under all this new attention, the most she had every received beyond her basic tutelage and parentage. It grew inside of her a mean, selfish little thing that would blossom into an ego that was quite frighteningly big. Harmony was just eighteen when she first met Octavian Vector. A fine, handsome man who smoked thick, cloying cigars with her father and performed ‘business’ she was not permitted to ask questions about. He was deeply charismatic and for once in her life, Harmony found herself beguiled – some might even hazard she was obsessed. She hung on his every word and limited interaction. Soon enough, the man consumed her every waking moment, and sleeping too. He was not someone actively courting her, or showing any base desire to do so, but that just made it all the more appealing to have him. He’d been married of course, had children already. A poor widow three times over, according to the whispers. ‘Such an unlucky man, cursed perhaps’, the women would say. ‘And those poor children!’, they would titter, while secretly staring over the rim of their cocktail glasses. High society did enjoy a beautiful scandal, especially when it was so tragic. Harmony, in all her young ambition, vowed she might be his last wife. And that is exactly what she would become. At eighteen, Harmony was ‘of age’. A mature half-Veela, for all intents and purposes. She could marry, she could bear children. She was an ‘adult’. Harmony reminded her mother of this often, viciously spitting rage as she rebelled against her mother’s tightening leash until it snapped. Duchess would not be disrespected; she made her stance known. No daughter of hers would marry a man so old and ‘weathered’. She suspected Octavian’s mutual interest had dark ties, and perhaps she was right. ‘I’ve spoken to my Gods, and my Gods do not sanction this union’. Unfortunately, her mother’s Gods were not Harmony’s own. With her father’s gold-plated approval for the marriage, Harmony pulled out from under her mothers grasp and accepted a marriage proposal from Octavian Vector. It might be suspected that Archibald’s approval was spiteful, an act of rebellion to reclaim all he had lost from his obstinate wife – that sting of no son leaving him bitter enough to seek an equal punishment. Let her lose her precious daughter, he might have thought. The evening of the engagement ball, Duchess stripped the home of all she deemed valuable, and she left the Hampshire home. She left on letter, she did not say goodbye. Veela’s were nothing if not stubborn, and Duchess had meant what she had warned Harmony of. No daughter of hers would marry Octavian Vector. And suddenly, in a single moment of teenage obsession, Harmony found she had no mother to speak of. Harmony grieved her mother’s absence more than anything, but she did not change her mind. Swept up in her nuptials, she used it as an eager distraction. Soon, she took the name Vector and moved into his fine, modern home. She took no great pleasure in being the new ‘mother figure’ for a brood of children she felt no affection for. In fact, his eldest son was only a mere four years younger than she. And how they hated her for it. The feeling was very mutual. Harmony had such a limited understanding of childish wants and needs, she distanced herself. Falling into a pattern of attending dinners and events with her handsome husband. It was a life she dearly dreamed of, the beautiful wife in the beautiful dress, sipping fine wines and enjoying all the fine attention. She saw only Octavian, the apple of her eye, and he preened within it. Happy to be doted upon by a woman with such a limited attention span. Her obsession did not wane for quite some time, even when Octavian was less than kind to her. When he left her in his cold home for weeks on end, forced to interact with his horrid, bastardised children. They were like orphans, she would think, stray pets he left unintended to run wild and gnaw on the bespoke furniture. She did not understand why they might desire the company of their father. And his family, how they hated his ‘child bride’. She hated them evenly, for their existence contradicted her happiness. However, when she grew fat with her own children, she didn’t fully consider the fact that she would soon by a mother all on her own. It wasn’t until Harmony gave birth to triplets that her world view would shift. No longer was Octavian the centre of her Universe. Suddenly, she had three defenceless creatures to keep healthy and alive, and Harmony loved them dearly. They were all her own, with fat pink faces and fine heads of hair. She missed her mother dearly after giving birth, the absence aching more than it ever had. But, no owl’s ever found her, and no letters were ever returned in answer. She was motherless, and how she resented it. With Octavian out of her world view, Harmony began to realise how cruel and cold he could be. He had no great love for the children he’d helped create, stating that he was no ‘paternal sap’, after all. Kissing her sweetly, but leaving her sour. Harmony considered her children the only three that really mattered. They were the Vector’s with the family name, they were worth their weight in gold. Harmony felt the chill of reality as the years trod on. Her children were as bright and stubborn as she, and Harmony struggled as a young parent. She wished only for the best, with her mothers sheer force of will pushing her to control, shape and push her children to be the best they could be. And while doing so, she realised exactly who her husband really was. Harmony had been so utterly enamoured by Octavian, she had never considered how his ‘luck’ had lost him three wives. Never once, stupidly, had she considered that he might have disposed of them himself. She knew he was rich, she knew he worked in ‘underground dealings’. She had simply lacked any real care or concern. At least he kissed her sweetly, and bought her pretty things. But, as time went on and Harmony grew viciously protective of her children, she was forced to face that harsh reality. It took the death of her father to lift the veil entirely. Archibald Sallow had always been rich. A man born with gold tipped fingers, he was a fantastic investor. After Duchess had left, he had remarried a meek little witch from a good family in Wales. Harmony rarely even saw him; he sent a milky white card with three fine galleons inside to congratulate Harmony on giving birth, but that was all. No mention of how his only daughter was fairing. They barely spoke at all, the transaction had been paid in full, she was Octavian’s problem now. So, when she realised Octavian had been conversing with her father again, she thought it strange at first, especially as he made no mention of it to her. Octavian had always filled her ears with sweet nothings, explaining that his only real interest had always been ‘her’. She was the apple of his eye. So, why after all this time, did he care to speak with her father? As it happened, news filtered through that his new wife Anna was pregnant. A son, according to the stars. Harmony barely flinched, let him have his precious son. She had two of her own. Harmony did not think of her inheritance at that time, but Octavian had. In summer 2020, a fire swallowed the Sallow Hampshire home in minutes, they said. A great blaze seen for miles, even the Muggles had sent aide. Inside, Archibald and Anna Sallow perished, along with their presumed unborn son. It was a tragedy that swept the news circuits for weeks. The investigation revealed that Archibald was running a fine blaze under the home, illegal potion-manufacturing, they suspected. Something had gone horribly array and there was nothing but ash to bury. As the soul heir of the Sallow fortune – and a fortune it was – Harmony inherited three vaults worth of gold at Gringotts. No house though, they told her, and what a shame it was! But, Harmony need not want for another thing in her life. Octavian soon made his intentions known. He started softly, prodding at Harmony to invest in his ventures with her inherited gold. What good would it do her, he picked, she wanted for nothing as his wife. Harmony shrugged him off without a second thought, it wasn’t gold for business, it was gold for her children. They needn’t want for a single thing, they had a vault worth of gold each. As he said, she wanted for nothing. Octavian hated her for it. After pushing and pushing, he suddenly stopped, and Harmony felt his vile hatred almost like a sixth sense. No more sweet kisses, no more fine dining. He wrenched out of her grip completely. And Harmony felt the impending doom like an anvil over her head. Harmony deduced quickly that Octavian had been the ‘illegal potion-manufacturer’, not her father. And had disposed of him in kind, lest she never inherit his precious fortune. She found scraps of their dealings while investigating his office. The perfect business venture, he’d told Archibald, ‘for your strapping son!’. It made her sick to her stomach, though she did not mourn her father still. Octavian had no reason to suspect his silly little wife for digging into his dodgy business deals. Always underestimating Harmony’s fine-tuned intuition. She had no link with her mother’s base Gods, but she reckoned they didn’t hurt guiding her in the correct path. Soon enough, Harmony connected the dots to all of his ‘missing’ wives. How he gained his fortunes with a precise, cold caculation. As the sole inheritor of each of their vaults, Octavian had come out of each grieving period with pockets lined in gold. Harmony vowed, cold with the realisation, that she would not be the next wife to disappear. Her children stripped clean of all they were rightfully owed. It was terribly easy to kill Octavian Vector. Once she had thought about it, Harmony took the rest of the year meticulously planning the demise of her dear husband. Alongside her, Octavian planned a similar venure himself, but for his fourth wife. Unfortunately, time was not on his side, as he felt terribly pushed to postpone her demise long enough for the news circuit to forget about the great wealth she had just inherited. This gave Harmony time to speak to the vendors she had donated to – the paintings she had created and sold for countless charities. Harmony did not particularly care about the benefactors, she had simply grown fond of how people petted on her when she did. Harmony was not known for her intellect, but she had been tutored by some of the best learned professionals in all of Europe. While she had favoured the arts, she was perfectly adept at potion-brewing. Over time, Octavian was dosed with just enough poison that it made him look weary and unwell, but fit enough to continue his conning nonetheless. Planting a seed of unrest among those who knew and interacted with him. Didn’t he look a little worn?, they would say later. Harmony would bemoan that she had warned him to live kindly. And before he grew suspicious, one evening Octavian finished a glass of whiskey poured by his pretty wife, and bid her a stiff goodbye for his latest adventure. He would never return, dropping dead in the basement of some gritty little chess den. An old man, with an old heart, worn through from countless tragedies. Harmony mourned appropriately. She was no longer the hapless eighteen-year-old, moon-eyed with attraction. She wore black, cried openly, and promptly sold their cold, modern penthouse in London. Though she wanted for nothing, Harmony disliked the idea that she would inherit nothing – after all, if Octavian had had his own way, he’d have outlived all of his children by a long shot. She had given them an ample opportunity that they had not earned. With her pittance of a payout – his bastard children were greedy little parasites, she bought and opened a glass walled gallery in Horizont Alley and a flat in Hogsmeade which she lived in during the school term. Harmony still could not bear to be free of her children, despite their best efforts. She spends her late husband’s money like she’d been paid to get rid of it. Spitefully wears the gaudy, emerald engagement ring on her wedding finger, like a good wife in mourning. And as her children grow, Harmony pretends that she cannot see her wicked husband peeking through their impressionable faces. And all the while, she remembers her mothers fair warnings from so long ago, with only mild regrets. SITE EVENTS REACTION Harmony has no hand in political news or opinion. She spent little of her time concerning herself with he matter of Purebloods and Purifiers. Hearing only through high society gossip rounds how things progressed, with very limited interest. Her chief concern having always been her children, she did attempt multiple times to have them removed from the school when concerns grew at large. Though not muggleborns, she feared their Veela-blood would put them at risk of persecution. This was batted off at every opportunity, which is why Harmony chose to move to Hogsmeade during the entire term. And her concerns were aptly proven correct as the school was destroyed She had her children sent to Beauxbaton, where she briefly moved to accompany her children, as they all appeared to refuse highly acclaimed home-schooling – much to her confusion and distaste. Harmony donated generously during the laborious renovations of the pesky school. Though she had hoped her children would chose not to return once the restoration was complete, it was to no avail, as soon enough they were back in the newly adapted learning environment. WANT AD
OOC
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deltra of gangnam style
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