Name: Zoya Anastasia Morte a.k.a Staz
Age: 13
Gender: Female
Patronus: Bat
Boggart: Her loved ones deserting her.
Wand Type: Blackthorn Wood, Phoenix feather core, 11 and a half inches, volatile.
History: Kiara Rookbird and Aaron Morte were young, in love and delusional. They believed that their love could withstand the pressures of the society that come when a pureblood wizard marries a muggleborn witch. They were wrong, and even the birth of their daughter couldn't help matter and when Zoya turned 12, they filed in for divorce, ending their 14 year marriage. The beginning of Zoya's third year commences their legal battle for the right to her custody, which neither of them want. This has cut her up a lot inside, but her refusal to talk to anyone about it, or even mention the thing is making it extra hard.
Even before the divorce, her parents were cold and hostile towards each other and barely took notice of their daughter. Zoya grew up being neglected by both of her parents, instead, the servants took care of her. She oscillates between periods of trouble-making extremes to academic and behavioral excellence, all in the hopes that her parents would notice. When she turned eleven, then finally her parents took a little time out of their busy lives to argue about which school Zoya would go to. Her father wanted Drumstrange, while her mother wanted Beauxbatons. Sick of them and their arguments, Zoya instead enlisted herself in Durmstrang, a decision which she sometimes regrets.
Her dislike of her family manifests itself in her disregard of her given name 'Zoya', and insistence at everybody at Hogwarts calling her 'Staz'.
Her mother, after the divorce lives a free life from which she barely takes time out for Anastasia, instead she is busy pretending to be young and happening once again with a string of casual relationships. Her father, on the other hand, is dating Ariadne Ellingham.
Appearance: She has dark grey eyes, brown messy hair that never quite stays in style and a very casual approach towards clothes (Read: She just throws on whatever comes to her hand.) She is obsessed with hats and necklaces.
Personality: Zoya is a paradox. She is a quintessential rebel-without-a-cause and at the same time a happy, cheerful girl. She is friendly, but not open and keeps herself locked in a little shell. She never shares her true feelings, instead suppresses them all leading to her seemingly volatile behavior. In flashes, she displays the large amounts of internal anger angst buried in her through her sarcasm, cold and sometimes knowingly cruel behavior. She is a control freak, owing to the lack of control she has over her life. Even though she adheres strictly to personal limits set by her, she completely disregards those set by others and unabashedly interferes in their live, hoping to 'fix' every little problem. She dislikes speaking of her personal life, and continued prying of it can resurface her anger which due to its long suppression, is harsh and stormy.
Oddly enough, she loves arguing and picks up fights with people for no reason at all. She also hates losing and is prone to over-analyzing things. She stresses over every small thing and takes on blame on herself for every incident. She is also very lazy, unless something catches her fancy.
RP Sample: (must be at least one paragraph, 6 sentances long)Read. Scribble. Flip page. Staz ran a hand through her hair in a movement that only one who knew her well enough would be able to tell was a frustrated manner. It had been the same monotonous routine for the last few hours. Days really, if she were being honest with herself. It was definitely not the way she would rather spend her time. But she didn't want to disappoint her father. Again.
She sighed. The words of his last letter floated to the front of her mind. As if I'm not under enough pressure as it is... she thought, rolling her eyes and finally giving into the urge she had had for the past two hours and closing her book with a small snap. She glanced around the library, spotting several other of her year mates obviously studying as well. None of which she really knew or really cared to go out of her way to in any case. She was perfectly happy at her own table where she could kick her feet up on the chair across from her. Which they were. She leaned back in her chair, tapping her quill absently on the book she had just closed.
Thoughts wandering, she didn't notice the annoyed looks she was getting from those in the area. Bloody Sixth year! She thought irritatingly, glaring at nothing in response to her internal voice. How was anyone supposed to have any kind of fun with all this studying and work the professors had dumped on them?! It would serve them right to have some catastrophe or other happen the day of the exams.
Heeeey... Suddenly, her look turned from that of the glare to one of thoughtfulness. Now there's an idea... A slow smirk spread onto her lips as she considered the option, never noticing the person who came over to her table.