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General Information
Character Name:
Vespera Mulciber
Age:
16
Date of Birth:
24 October 1904
Blood Status:
Pureblood
Residence:
Cornwall
Family:
Father: Albert Mulciber.
Mother: Edith Mulciber (Maiden Name: Carroway)
Younger Sister: Clara Mulciber
The Mulciber family is steeped in mystery and darkness. Expectations for all children to achieve greatness are an ever-present force to contend with during their school years. The Mulciber estate lies nestled—no, carved—into the northern cliffs of the country, where salty mist sprays from below, waves crashing and storms lashing the landscape. The land is a tempest in itself; the estate, a force of control in its very existence.
This pureblood family is lorded over by Albert Thorne Mulciber, cold and stoic in his precision through life and parenthood. He demands excellence and nothing less than perfection, his manipulation and insistence on unwavering loyalty almost painful to uphold. He is the patriarch of this noble family, and his orders prevail above all else. In mirror fashion, the matriarch is Edith Couli Mulciber. She is as brutal in her expectations as Albert, though her demands for perfection lie more in the social sphere. She frequently ridicules her daughters to tears, picking apart every single aspect of their social and physical image—excusing it in her mind without a second thought as she shapes them into the perfect, meticulously curated beacons of the Mulciber legacy.
Her sister, younger and still holding that small spark of unbridled curiosity, is Vespera’s only link to a warm and lively childhood. She feels a fierce need to protect Clara, determined to keep that spark of life alive. She will not allow her parents to snuff it out—she won’t. Clara is gentle, and Vespera suspects she may be the first Mulciber to actually land in a different Hogwarts house than everyone before her. Maybe a Hufflepuff?
Personality & House Preference
Personality:
Vespera is nothing if she isn't exactly what she was moulded to be since she could walk. A blade, a razors edge, a serated knife. Cold, witty, and sometimes even downright creul - she pushes everyone away. Not because she doesnt want to be close to anyone, but rather because she has trouble even knowing where to begin to make friendships blossom. She is lonely at her core, her razor wire insults and stiffly pressed uniform armor to keep everyone from know how fractured she really is.
Her aptitude for cruelty is what she learned from her parents, and isnt quite sure how to overcome that which has been instilled in her for so long. She frequently keeps people at arms length, hiding things, keeping secrets, and only telling half truths to protect herself from truly being known by anyone.
Vespera is intelligent and easily bored, this usually leads her to playing with spells and magic too advanced for her or incantations that teetered on the line between usable magic and the dark arts. Her interests lie in dark arts, and herbology as well as potion making.
History:
Vespera Mulciber was born into a home made of stone—both metaphorically and literally. The estate was no home; there was no kindness here, only cruelty and an unyielding expectation of greatness. She and her sister were treated not as children, but as heirs to the Mulciber dynasty. By the age of five, Vespera’s parents were discussing her future marriage with other pureblood families, as if she were already a piece of property. Her father drilled lessons into her mind about control, discipline, and cunning from an early age, shaping her from the start to be a legacy, not a person.
As a preteen, she devoured history books and learned about the world around her at an alarming rate. She was also taught—often brutally—how to conduct herself in the company of others. Which fork to use for salad versus seafood, how to sit straight as a pin and never slouch, how to sip pumpkin juice without slurping. These etiquette lessons were day in and day out, alongside strict diets to keep her thin, makeup to accentuate but not conceal, and a focus on practicality over frivolity. Her mother instilled a deep-seated fear of appearing unpolished, unready, or visually undeserving of the Mulciber name.
Upon receiving her owl and invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she was not overwhelmed with joy at being chosen—because she had expected it. She wasn’t sad to leave her family, because this was all planned. Everything felt like a simple, predictable set of actions she was meant to follow to be the best and make her parents proud. That’s what she was born to do, right? As the eldest heir of their noble blood, she would become the best witch in the known world and earn her place in her parents’ ever-changing favor.
House Preference:
Slytherin is the house she expects, Ravenclaw would be a close second, and would definitely shake things up at home. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would be last resort choices for her.
Year Preference:
6th
Prompt Response:
All Is Proceeding As Planned
(The day your character got their Hogwarts letter.)Word Count: 754
Tableware clinked and chimed as the Mulciber family ate their breakfast at a vast, blackened-wood table far larger than one would expect for a family of four. Distance seemed to comfort them, the cold air of distaste for cozy familial living palpable in the large dining room. The energy was harsh, cold, and procedural—everything was in its place; everything had its purpose. Two little girls eyed each other across the table, their ages about five years apart, their expressions revealing nothing beyond the benign boredom they usually felt in the presence of their parents. Chewing their food—this morning, a mushroom and truffle omelet, cooked soft enough that its contents oozed like molten gold—they savored the one dish the chef made that Vespera truly relished, rather than merely choking it down to appease her parents. A dollop of fresh caviar rested on top, accented with a sprig of chive.
The decor of the spacious room—and the house beyond—was decadent in its own regal way: crown molding on the walls that weren’t carved stone, silver filigree accenting the gothic theme of the space. Large silver chandeliers hung from above, candles nestled into them—charmed to never go out, their wax reserves endless, each prong of the antlers dripping with half-solid wax. The large labyrinthine estate was mostly carved into the cliff face itself, leaving many of the rock walls unfinished—rugged and sturdy. Vespera always thought it was an interesting choice for a family so obsessed with control and domination.
The family continued to eat in silence, save for the occasional scrape of silverware against porcelain or the wind whipping past the windows that enclosed the room. Vespera had lessons today—etiquette lessons from her mother—and they had recently been practicing ballroom dancing. She, being 11, thought she’d never need to know how to dance. Why would she ever want to take part in such nonsense? To her mother, this nonsense wasn’t nonsense at all. According to the matriarch of the Mulciber family, learning to dance was perfectly logical and would impress her future husband. This sentiment made Ves want to gag.
As she finished her omlette, daintily pressing the black cloth napkin to the corners of her full mouth - an amber colored bird flew through the slightly ajar window to the south of the room, it landed gracefully on the chandelier and dropped its parcel. She then noticed it was not just a bird - it was Barn Owl, and in its beak it had held not a parcel at all, but a thin envelope stamped with a plain red seal. The latter was addressed to her.
“Well, go on.” her father drawled, as if not only unperturbed by the sudden avian intrusion but bored of the matter altogether. He gestured to the letter, staring at Ves with expectation in his inky black eyes. Her mother continued to eat in equally bored silence, while her sister eyed the owl curiously, as if enthralled by its presence. Vespera took the envelope and just as quickly as it had arrived, the owl took flight - back out the window, as if it'd never been there in the first place. Opening the envelope with delicate dainty movements, she unfolded a piece of parchment, reading it and looking towards her father expectantly.
“I am to attend classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” She mumbled, any enthusiasm she had for getting out of this estate of manipulation and cruelty quashed by the scrutinous looks on her parents' faces.
“Youre mumbling again darling.” Her mother said, before taking a sip of tea from an ornate teacup, somehow cruel even in the smallest of instances. “At any rate, we knew you’d be getting your letter any day now.” Her father clasped his hands in front of him, boring a hole through her as he stared intently.
“You will not only graduate with high marks in Slytherin House, but you will conduct yourself with the control and dignity I expect any member of the Mulciber family to exude. Am I understood, Vespera?” She nodded silently - feeling like her throat was closing up, “Good. I will be very disappointed if I find you to be lacking.”
Her plate and cup were whisked away without a word by nameless servants of the Estate, and she silently stood next to her chair, “May I be excused?”
The only response was a curt nod, and she retreated to her bedroom to prepare for today's lessons, the oppressive weight of expectations was not new to her.
So why did it feel heavier than usual?
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