ABERCROMBIE, nikolette iliana

[Nikolette I. Abercrombie]

Nikolette abercrombie

QUOTE/LYRICS

ravenclaw

sixteen

female

8-1/2" Maple centaur blood

questioning

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QUOTE/LYRICS

POSITIVE INQUISITIVE: It is in Niko's nature to discover why things are the way they are. She has an inherent need to question the status quo, and collecting information with which to reflect and decide is a predominant use of her time.  PERCEPTIVE: Naturally introverted, Niko would rather listen than speak. She is a decent judge of character, and it is easy for her to understand the moods and subtleties of others. Besides people, she is a careful observer of her surroundings, and is known for seeing things or ideas that others have not. PATIENT: Although it stems from a desire to not involve herself in things, Niko is a patient person. She does not get caught up in the anxieties of time. If her life isn't on the line, there is no reason to be bothered by how slow or fast things happen. CREATIVE: Thinking outside of the box is a pillar of Niko's being. Since she was little, the atypical and off-the-charts have fascinated and drawn her. Artistic expression has always been a sidelined hobby in favor of more practical book work, but when she allows herself the time to create, the products are wild- unapproachable, some, but never boring. CLEVER: A boring tenant, but a necessary one. Unsure if it stems from a genuine pleasure or merely a desire to succeed, Niko has always been a dedicated and admirable student. While not every O can be attributed to raw talent, her focus on her studies and development as a witch are certainly commendable above some others.

LIKES - Fresh air - Waffles with berries - Comfortable shoes - Page-turners - Magical creatures - The smell of wood - Mornings - Salt water beaches - Painting - Wizard Chess DISLIKES - Social gatherings - Combs - Snow - Politics - Liquor - Nuts - Aunt Kaly

NEGATIVE AMBIVALENT: A bright and chipper personality have never come naturally to Niko, as it does for her twin sister. Her resting face is that of blank pallidity, everything happening inside her head staying very firmly there. She does not wear her emotions on her sleeve, and can be criticized for not feeling very much at all. CALLOUS: If you're seeking warmth and friendliness, it can be advised that avoiding Niko would be helpful. One could call her state of being generally neutral, but even that is kinder than the reality, which is that Niko can be indistinct and impolite to people she is unfamiliar with.  PENDANTIC: Cleverness comes at a cost- and there are two types of people who handle it- those that politely move forward when they heard incorrect information, and those that correct immediately. Niko is wildly the latter, unafraid to embarrass anyone, choosing instead to fulfill her desire for all facts to be check and correct. Why bother saying something if you're not going to make sure it's true? TRUCULENT: From her many delightful flaws, tension develops between Niko and others. It's not easy for her to let things go, to move forward, or to put herself in someone else's shoes. She is quick to argue and often doesn't back down, even if there is no basis for a proper argument.  REACTIONARY: Despite her ready silence and keen observations, Niko is quick to act. She makes snap judgments about situations and people, and even if she doesn't not take action immediately, she can hold grudges based off singular incidents without properly considering every factor.

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QUOTE/LYRICS

the exposition

Their love story went rather unspoken, and you didn't fully understand why. Parts of you thought that they wanted to deter you from choosing a partner in your adolescence, something noted as considerably ill-advised by parents to their children, even when those parents were culprits of the action themselves. Maybe it wasn't so glorious, and whatever was existing in the impalpable ethers between them was from years of commitment and companionship. But as you watch them through more mature eyes- how she watches him surface from his workshop each morning through crisp morning light, the way his shoulders soften their focused tension from the affection in her touch- you know it to be true. There was something inexplicable between them, so much so that they stopped bothering to explain it themselves.

the beginning

As you got older, you would weave in and out of different phases of enjoying the solitude of the riverside property inside the Forest of Dean, a naturally wooded area not a fifteen minute walk from the small town of Kingswood, on the country outside the city of Gloucestershire. Your father loved the privacy, your mother loved the personality. You wouldn't appreciate the uniqueness of such a childhood until you had some more perspective.

Perspective like learning about other Hogwarts students. Not like the whole seeing the future thing.

the firsts

Calysta was born to two very different parents, both filled with excruciating love and fear. Your mother wanted children, plural, enough that they might simply surround her and bury her with their little hands and eyes and noses. Your father wanted your mother to be happy, but his relationship to the concept of fatherhood was strained and inexperienced, hesitant to enter into the lifelong contract of loving what he may not understand. Apparently, the challenge of a first child was not enough. Nor the postpartum depression or having child seer. Cal also needed to lose her eyesight. At an incredibly rapid pace.

She was half blind by the time Silas was born. He was born to parents that could withstand most anything, having been dealt every blow imaginable to their psyches as they fortified themselves for the endlessness of terrifying true love and parenthood.

A perfect preparation for unplanned twins.

the seconds

There's a lot of suspicions about twins being viscerally connected, implicitly aware of one another, the yin and the yang of perfectly complimentary balance. Twintuition. Two sides of the same coin. You know this is at least partially true, but you deny any explicit statements thereof. Just like Calysta and Silas are siblings, so are you and Cece. You just happen to have shared an experience together. And pretty much every experience after that.

You wore your differences as badges of pride.

When you were younger, you didn't care much that your mother dressed you the same. You were perfectly fine being placed in anything, as long as it didn't inhibit motion or make your skin itch. Somewhere along the line, it became universally accepted that you were incapable of returning clothes to their hangers without stains, rips, or wrinkles. You didn't have a 'respect for the cloth' like your sister. 

Neither of you could sit still very well- you both had active minds in need of constant occupation. You'd always rather be outside, no matter the circumstances, for happiness was found diving in the shallow creek or crawling (to the dismay of both your parents) along the line of the roof after climbing out of your parents' bedroom window. You existed mostly inside your own head, but there was a comfort to being around your siblings, even Cece, who you would allow to paint your nails as long as she didn't get mad when they eventually chipped.

You were told from a startlingly young age how like your father you were, which began to perturb you the older that you got. You disliked being assigned, almost as much as Cece seemed to adore being compared to your mother. You loved your father dearly, and you admired much about him, but you did not wish to be him, he who was lucky enough to have found a woman who tolerated him reclusive hermitage.

While you did not always throw yourself into the world, as your sister did, you did not wish to hide from it. There was joy to be found in observing.

the end

You had your first vision much too young. Before Cal, even. How strange, that your first memory is of something you haven't done yet.

Which was die.

You remember that it hurt your eyes. It felt like the world was blurring before you and mixing with a shiny tar of oozed blackness. There was no ease, no simplicity to how you transitioned, and before you know it, you saw your adult hands and arms, and shortly after that, you didn't see anything at all.

Your mother tried to convinced herself that you'd just passed out, from the heat of the summer and not drinking enough fresh water. But she knew. 

That you were a seer, of course. Not what you saw. You'd never tell anyone that. 

the split

You avoided having visions at all costs. You would clench your fists together when you felt the first traces, avidly resisting all connection to the power boiling under your fingernails. There was too much of your father in you, despite you wishing otherwise. You didn't want the future to be scripted, you didn't want to know what lay ahead. You'd already Seen too much, and you'd hardly Seen anything at all.

The older you became, the more Cece's frivolity made you livid. She enjoyed Seeing- but for the silliness of the weather or what color Evadne would wear to the next family meal so that she didn't clash- at least, this is how you began to generalize her use of the Sight. It was useless to try and bully her out of it, and you didn't have much patience for argument anyhow, but the existence of your displeasure was never quite silenced.

Going to school was a welcome relief, though you found yourself missing the house and the riverbed. There were quite a number of fully foreign others, and you'd never been good at getting to know others. Well, in so many terms. You would get to know them, by watching and listening and generally perceiving, but this one sided exercise did nothing for you in terms of friendships.

Though you would never hate her, you hated how easily Cece took to her new house and her new friends. Part of you wanted her breeziness and beauty, how swiftly she could talk to anyone no matter their age, gender, authority, or charisma. But another part of you rejected that notion and embraced the title of strange that others applied to you. You were fine with who you were and how you chose to be. Cece never seemed to care- why should anyone else?

It took a few years, but you sank your talons into Ravenclaw. Your friendships developed slowly, but naturally. You took to your studies with the ease that Cece took to socializing. You didn't rely on her, or Cal, or Silas for help or humor. You were happy to be on your own, at least a little bit. The pair of you were still together quite often, and you would never be sure if this was Cece needing you or you needing her just as much.

the growth

You are a sixth year Ravenclaw on the cusp of true adulthood, and your carelessness in the void of ambiguity may be coming to a close. Your dreams are grandiose and abstract; they have no pinpoint, apex, or true direction. You simply know what makes you happy, and you seek to continue to find out.

You've grown into a woman of spirit, drawn and leveled by your own recreations of your perceptions of the world. You paint, mostly, but your true inspiration manifests into off-beat creations of your own designs, strange materials, and flippant concepts that are meant to confuse, terrify, and awe. You relish in those who admire but most by those you disgust. You cannot be beaten into disliking something of your own conception.

You don't wear makeup and you allow simple recommendations from Cece on  your style, but the majority of your outward appearance has taken on a likeness of whatever is swirling around you, be it the same shirt you've worn for the past ten days, or a slew of loud and gaudy jewelry that simply speaks to you.

You've entered the final stage of your schooling. You're an "older kid" now, after having been labelled young or younger for the entirety of your life. 

You're pristinely content. You could burst.

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[PTab=PLAYER]

QUOTE/LYRICS

played by JIGGY! TWENTY-FIVE - EST - PM

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STASEY, caitlin as nikolette abercrombie

deltra of gangnam style

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