MALFOY, narcissa

[Narcissa Malfoy]

Character's full name: Narcissa Black Malfoy
Nicknames?: Cissa, Cissy
Age: 23
Blood status: Pureblooded
Graduated from: Slytherin, Hogwarts
Residence:Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England
Wand:10 ½ inches, Ash, Unicorn tail hair
Alliance:The Dark Lord
Occupation: Unemployed

Height:5'5"
Weight:107
Appearance:
Narcissa Malfoy has always been relatively comfortable with her good looks (or at least the products most her monthly spendings went to). From the top of her lustrous, soft blond locks, to the vividness of her incandescent blue eyes, past the body always fashionable dressed and kept in it’s peek conditions, and finally to the toes of her daintily sized feet you would always see a spectacle of vanity. She’d been proud and pretentious of her looks from childhood, and kept them up for more than just social stature. No one loves a wrinkled, aging woman.

Her hair is a natural, flowing blonde. It tends to curl gently, and is hardly ever at any extreme end of the scale. Two arched, blonde brows sit above two bright blue eyes. Her natural completion is overly pale, making her bright red lips stick create a natural focal point on her face. Her high cheek bones seem to point out her rather small head, as does her fairly long nose.





Likes: (5, please explain)

• Men. Narcissa is a woman of standards, and not any man will do. Her current fixation? One specimen with blond locks and a chilling look; her husband.
  
• Status. To Narcissa if you're not somebody known, than you're simply nobody.
  
• Comfort. The blonde woman was raised in world where she didn't have to life a finger to get whatever she wanted. It's only natural she prefers comfort over anything.
  
• Pretties. Jewels, lovely Robes, hairstyles. Anything that she finds attractive makes her rather happy.
  
• Entertaining. Throwing and planning parties seems to be Narcissa's niche. She excels at it, and makes it her own goal to throw the best ones.
  
• France. Her French ancestry has been a recent fascination with the young blonde woman. Whether it is little complaints on why they can't visit Paris or slipping in a French word here and there, Cissa doesn't appear to be letting up any time soon.
  

Dislikes: (5, please explain)

• Anything that could change her world from the way it currently is. Narcissa is not a women who enjoys change.
  
• Anyone in her family being in danger scares Narcissa. She loves them all dearly and seeing them hurt is far worse than being hurt herself.
  
• Rain. It's drab, boring, dull rain. You can't do anything in with it!
  
• She hates being alone. Narcissa grew up with two sisters, houseelves, and both of her parents being at home most of the day. It boggles her mind when she's left in the manor by her lonesome, and she finds it horribly boring.
  
• Poverty. If Narcissa didn't have money, she'd be nothing and had nothing.
  
• Filth. Honestly, is there a reason they exist? All they do is pollute the world and dilute good, pure blood.
  
• Boredom. Narcissa has to be constantly entertained or something bad with surely happen.

Personality:
Child
Many believe Narcissa’s personality to be straightforward and simple, however it can be classified only as a product of her environment. She was raised in a luxurious and defined household. Most would claim she ‘became quickly adjusted to her wealth’, but there was no adjusting. She was raised not knowing that anything outside of her world existed.

When she was old enough to handle it, her father and mother preached what would become the fundamental of her life from that point onward; if you were not pureblood, you were nothing but a blasphemous street urchin. The thought was preached and ingrained into the open mind of Narcissa Black, and stuck with her through most of her life.

However, though her childhood was strict and she was raised to follow certain procedures that were expected of her, she grew up to expect and receive the best of everything from clothing to friends. She respected and ‘loved’ her parents, and when they were sure she would never disrespect them or harm their social standing, they ‘loved’ her in return. When it was her father’s will to take an upstanding husband, she did (though it should be said she would have taken said husband if she hadn’t been asked in the first place).

The patriarchal household had its other effects on Narcissa, creating a woman who was obedient to the male gender. Far less outgoing in either sense than both of her sisters, she clung first to her father’s household and rules and then to her husband.


Wife

Narcissa is hopelessly and often blindly devoted to one, Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps it’s a need to be dedicated to something and loyal to someone, or perhaps it’s simply love. There's something in the way the man talks, or the way he simply does anything that draws Narcissa's eyes and heart. However she can’t deny that she would continue to be dutiful him even if she loathed the man. Maybe she just has an issue with the entire male populace.

Whatever the reason, she never questions his actions or commands towards her. She follows the rules of propriety her mother set down for her when she was old enough to understand a ‘Woman’s duty’, and defends her husband to the woman’s vicious rumors she hears. Though is this simply being a good wife, or protecting her own ego and good name?

Woman

Narcissa is self absorbed, turning her head to only care for her son and mind her husband. Her breeding has gotten her far, her looks even farther. She is fully aware that she won her standing into today's society. However, she's changed from who she was before. Teenager no longer, Narcissa feels a new, important chapter of her life approaching.

She has a short temper, and most of those close to her will tell you to avoid her when she gets into one of her 'moods'. Her temper is even shorter with dealing with the kind of people she can’t stand. Rejection is also something that hurts her quite deeply; for she really has been denied so few times she doesn't know how to cope.

History:

Narcissa Black was born to Druella and Cygnus Black one sparkling spring morning. She quickly became tried to emulate her two elder sisters, Andy and Bella who in turn ignored her presence. Both were much older than her, and found it pointless to try and do anything with such an immature child as herself. This didn’t necessarily matter to Narcissa, as she wasn’t one to notice when people were avoiding her company or ignoring her. She was rarely seen out of the presence of either of her sisters (though it wasn’t for her sibling’s lack of attempts), except the school years she was left at home.

As all three of the sisters grew older, Narcissa learned the politics of the world and of her own household. It was forcefully engrained into her mind that anything to do with tainted Mudbloods was blasphemous, and happily excepted it. She grew into herself more as she aged from awkward child, to preteen adult. Cissa followed Bellatrix around more often, trying to repeat anything her eldest sister did (of course, big sisters don’t see the adorableness in this often enough, and Bella ended up showing her youngest sister out of a room many a times.) while she ran to Andy for advice and consolation. That was of course, till Andy decided to become different, then Narcissa avoided her like the plague. Something was up with her, and Narcissa wasn’t about to chance being punished or becoming different as well.

It was during her school years, the time when social lives were on a constant see-saw and saying the wrong thing could lead to the extinction of your social life quick enough, when Cissa realized she had to disband fully with Andromeda. The foolish girl fell in love with filth, and was removed from her agenda. Narcissa Malfoy fully claimed that she only had one sister, and didn’t have to visit the Black House to know she’s been removed from the family tree. Cissa fell in with Bella’s group of friends, as much as her sister still pushed her out of the way.

As unbelievable as it may seem, Narcissa didn't burst onto the social seen as a young teenager. She'd watched for years as her sister danced ploughed through the men that would show up at her home for formal functions dressed in their best dress robes. When it came time for her own outing into society, Narcissa attempted to stay out of Bella's way- it was still her time to attempt to find a man. At this time, that hardly came naturally to the budding narcissistic young woman. She couldn't help but notice the fact she was far more easy on the eyes than her often brooding elder sister almost as much as she couldn't help but have that natural, easy way of slipping into conversations and luring dancers away. Most men weren't a challenge- so Cissa picked the one who was.

She didn’t lie and push herself on her goal, but instead went to her mother. That was the way to do things. You didn’t pine and cry and do other sorts of silly things that most young woman do. You tell your mother that you want to marry Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa had discovered at an early age that mothers talk, especially mothers of high standing. Both were expected to marry correctly once out of schooling, and it was quickly assumed that the Malfoy heir would take one of the Black sisters as his wife. Cygnus attempted to be helpful, and chatted up Abraxas on the subject. Of course, he missed the point, and his Port scented breath had suggested the match be his eldest and Lucius. When Narcissa heard this, she vowed Bella would regret it. It took hardly two days of hysterics for the situation to be rectified.

Druella met with the Malfoy mother and promptly fixed it, "Bella just has the lazy eye. The Lestrange boy thinks she marvelous though. Plus, wouldn't a blond grandchild be more enchanting?"

Four and half years out of school, Narcissa was finally wed to the the man. Now residing at her own place of residence away from over zealous parents, Narcissa is finding new ways to enjoy herself.


RP Sample as that character:

Interruption. Disruption. Disturbance. An intermission from her real life, hoping and pleading that what’s the norm will take the stage once again and return it to the way it once was. The way before everything changed and the world was thrown upside down and rattled around. The way that wasn’t full of panic and worry and hope that perhaps she’ll die with less pain than she expected. The way life was before everything changed. Changed to the point where she’s wondering if the second act will ever come. If the actors that once graced her world’s stage will return safely to her to her every night. Narcissa Malfoy was more than emotionally changed, but physically as well. Her pattern of life that was so familiar and long-run was no more. The habits she’d formed in nearly 40 years of living and had stuck to since their formation were askew and undone. Buttons were unbuttoned and ribbons were left hanging helplessly. It was gone. It was imperfect. It was how things should never be.

Ever since her husband’s capture things had been swirling around her like an out of control mist. The kind of mist that seemed harmless enough, but filled your vision with nonsense and hysteria worse than fog. The kind that blinded you till you couldn’t see the end of the tunnel. Narcissa just couldn’t see clearly what was going to happen to her and her family, and that more than anything scared her. Even now that he was safely back home, she was still scared to see the outcome. The man she held so dearly in her life seemed to be no more than a shell of who he once was. Rituals they’d been happily got into the motion of were no longer there. He didn’t tell her when he went to bed now, it was simply assumed that when he disappeared without her for the night, she was not to follow. He no longer joined her after dinner and before bed in the oak paneled room that they’d never given a name to, but both knew it was there. And the passion, tenderness, and simple civility that once captivated other couples who were paired up not for feelings but for money and status was now no where to be found.

And it was here in this oak paneled room she sat, or well, slumped. She would never admit she was slumping; it was such an unladylike thing to do. Lucius wouldn’t approve. But I digress. Here she slumped. And empty tea cup hanging by one finger, her eyes closed. Had they been revealed behind their puffy lids, you would have seen bloodshot eyes. Bloodshot from the crying that just would not cease, thought the tears came less often as her son returned to her arms and her husband mimed doing so. Her clothes were hanging off of her shoulders, her body thin from lack of appetite. She seemed disheveled, and that’s exactly what she was.

A grandfather clock chimed somewhere in distance announcing the second hour of the morning. Her body ached, giving her the need to stay in the chair and to move to a bed at the same time. Her mind was split between beds and chairs, and floors and stairs. Could she walk? Or would she fall? Could she chance being found curled up on the second floor hallway? Would it make a difference? Who would see her there? Lucius would. He would be so ashamed at having her for a wife. Draco wouldn’t. Or if he did notice, he’d ignore her. He always did now. He would ignore his own mother dead before him now. What had become of them all? Thoughts drifted from her mind, threatening to bring up more tears. She was finally only being distracted by the slight pressure on the cup she still dangled on the side of the arch chair.

Opening one blue eye, she caught site of one of the horridly ugly creatures that served her home. Reaching up, she back handed the animal, careful not to break the porcelain of the tea cup.

“I told you not to disturb me.” She snarled. For effect she stood and glared before placing the tea cup on the mantel piece and heading up the stairs. She gave orders for the cup to be thoroughly clean, though how they little beasts would get it down was not her problem. In fact, that was the point. She wasn’t normally this cynical, but she truly had demanded not be disturbed when she was asleep. And she had been half asleep .

She reached her room, adjoining her husbands, without falling. Her nighttime rituals were the same as always, except for the knock on the door. She always knocked on Lucius’ door. Some days it was simply left unlocked, and she would have wandered in and wrapped her arms around the man, who would have been pleased. Other times it had been left locked, but he would open (or fling, depending on how well the day went) and things would persist from there. Now, if she had knocked, no one would answer or open the door. Or if he did, it would be to a steady glare that she received. This, for Narcissa, was the worst rejection she’d yet faced in her life.

Narcissa curled into her bed, and fell into a light sleep after a few moments. She tossed and turned, waking up and falling back asleep. Her bed was too hot, the air was to cold. The curtains were not dark enough. There weren’t enough pillows. Her sleep was little and poorly done that night. When she awoke, it was to an aching back and heart. She debated getting up today, as she always seemed to do now. Finally, upon hearing Lucius’ door shut and click next to hers, she resigned herself to life again today. Slipping into her dressing room, she preceded to get ready.

The hot water brought up for her bath left Narcissa with a pink flush around her whole body. Looking in the mirror, it was almost as if she was perfect again. The pale pink robes she wore that day were better for her fading completion than the darker ones she also had. Cosmetics did the best they could for her tired eyes. She looked better than she had last night. Nearly forty-five minutes after she’d awoke, Narcissa slowly made her way down the stairs and into the dinning room. She took her place, to the right of Lucius, and began sipping the cup of tea that was put at her place moments before she entered. Cringing to herself, the house elf placed a plate laden with food in front of her. Any significant amount of food seemed no longer able to mix well with her.

Wanting to look away from that which caused her stomach to twist, she turned to Lucius. The man looked more tired and weary than even she, even as he was able to nourish his needful body. If he had not been eating, she would have slid her hand to his, trying to show some small amount of support to him now that he seemed to avoid her larger ones. Instead, all she could offer her husband was a gift of a few words.

“Good morning, husband.”

What can we call you:Maria
How can we contact you:I own the site.
Age: 16
How'd you hear about us:My head. =)
Passphrase:ADMINEDIT

[Creator]