OUT OF CHARACTER
AGE: 20
TIME ZONE: EST
AIM: faeriexlights
PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE: Draco Malfoy. All other experience can be found at ![[info]](https://www.scribbld.com/img/userinfo.gif) faeriexlights.
IN CHARACTER
CHARACTER NAME: Valencia Zabini.
BIRTH DATE:
AGE: 16.
BLOODLINE: Pureblood.
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual.
HOUSE: Slytherin, 6th.
EXTRACURRICULARS: Slug Club.
AFFILIATION: Herself. While Valencia Zabini does indeed believe in the essence of Voldemort's plans, that Mudbloods need to be purged from society and blood-traitors made to suffer, she doesn't feel particularly inclined to fight for The Cause, and the burden it brings. After all, she has power, she has prestige, and she's been doing quite well in today's world without the exodus of all Muggleborns from society. Certainly, in theory, the Wizarding World would be a great deal better without such riffraff, but she's not willing to stake her own life on it. Let the others sort it out, and in the end, no one'll be able to distinguish, conclusively, whether she was truly on their side, or against it.
PB: Emanuela de Paula.
OPTIONAL HISTORY: Valencia was born into a family that, while its name still instilled a degree of fear in the hearts of knowledgeable Wizarding Folk, was truly declining in terms of prosperity and actual power. The Zabinis, a Pureblood family originating from the Mediterranean region, had, in previous centuries, a great deal of wealth to coincide with their beautifully pure lineage. However, they weren't destined to an eternal life of such great prosperity, and through the years, the family fortune was squandered away by foolish heirs and unwise investments.
By the time Valencia was brought into the world, the Zabinis had not much more than their name, their house, and their excessive pride to show for their previous grandeur, and even these last two seemed to eternally be at stake. Valencia thus grew up in a home where the future always appeared to be, just to that small degree, rather uncertain, and although she was loved by her parents, there was always that distinct disappointment they held that she hadn't been a male. After all, a male heir would have been able to right the wrongs done to the family name, regain the fortune, and bring upon another Golden Age of success.
Valencia grew up with a thirst to do just that; although she may not have been a man by any stretch of the imagination, she was determined to prove that, as a woman, she could do it all, and in a much more subtle, long-lasting manner. She was, of course, sorted into Slytherin (as the Zabinis had predominantly been for ages past) and, although she intermingled often with those she studied with, Valencia made it a point to never discuss her lack of desire to fight in whatever war there was supposedly coming. She was not made Prefect, and although she slightly resented the fact, she was quite content with her place in the Slug Club, which she believed to be much more creditable proof of status and true talent.
And now, her sixth year is beginning, and the whispers of a Dark Lord seem to be getting stronger by the day. Valencia doesn't wish to take part in such a battle, nor does she wish to be caught in the inevitable crossfire, and thus, she's doing her best to make sure she doesn't fall into a sticky situation that even she will be unable to extricate herself from.
PERSONALITY: Valencia Zabini is known for her beautiful looks, her blasé attitude, and her bold actions. Truly, behind that eerily calm facade is a girl simmering with ambition - oh, and a girl absolutely brimming over with barely suppressed. Although Valencia may have the 'I simply don't care' approach to things down to a T, her indifference is quite feigned: after all, her placement in Slytherin is indication enough of Valencia's wealth of cleverness and wile. Being the only child and thus the heir to the (non-existent) Zabini fortune and legacy, Valencia has quite a strong thirst to prove herself; she is determined to, if nothing else, restore honour and wealth to the tarnished family name. Her parents were under the impression that only a male heir could accomplish great things? Well, Valencia may be female, but she considers this more of a help than a hindrance - after all, who would ever suspect a beguilingly beautiful woman of doing any wrong? She knows that her looks aren't at all the norm, and she's quite willing to use this fact to her advantage; there's no use in being attractive if you aren't going to employ your looks to attain your dreams. Playing your traits to your best advantage, that's Valencia's motto; thus, while she is rather intent on proving that a female can do anything a man can do, she's far from being a feminist - shaved legs, waxed eyebrows, and a sultry voice are quite essential, in her opinion, to achieving success in a man's world.
Although the Zabinis may have indeed fallen on hard times, Valencia's upbringing was not in the least inferior to that of her Pureblooded peers - she's had many an etiquette lesson, and has learned to be as prim and proper as the Black sisters themselves. However, that exceedingly polite exterior hides quite a violent, raging personality; Valencia is, in fact, a rather morbid soul who scorns those who faint at the sight of blood or cringe upon laying eyes on an unsightly bruise (now, honestly, isn't the human body simply fascinating?). She isn't afraid to get dirty if the situation calls for it, although really, she'd rather the situation not call for anything of the sort, simply because of the thorough manicure she would undoubtedly need afterwards. One must always keep one's appearance in top-notch shape, after all.
While Valencia is ambitious, she's also rather clever - instead of taking the most obvious route to power, she instead prefers subtle plans, ones that involve her pulling the strings from behind, rather than being the puppet itself, as is inevitable when one becomes a public spearhead. Thus, she's become quite a gold-digger, finding that if she can't afford that expensive item she desires, there will undoubtedly be some bumbling idiot who she can persuade to buy it for her. Valencia realises that money is power, but she also knows that a person doesn't actually need to be the one making said money to reap its advantages; having an intriniscally domineering nature, she thus targets men who're more submissive in nature, using her intimidating stature and personality to control exactly how her beau of the moment spends those coins in that wallet of his.
Valencia chalks in as an exceedingly calculating person; she hardly ever does anything without fully weighing the consequences on both herself and those around her - in her opinion, there's no use in wasting energy on anything that won't prove beneficial. Thus, she's a fairweather sort of friend; she won't hesitate to bask in an acquaintance's success, but she is similarly more than willing to shun the person in question if they have fallen into ignominy. Valencia believes friendship to be a transient thing - she's a friend for as long as she can reap some benefit from the relationship, and after that point, she'll quite readily stab you in the back, and smile whilst doing so. Valencia is fully accepting of this trait in herself, she recognises it, and it perhaps this very fact that makes her a rather untrusting individual - after all, if she's so ready to betray a person who is supposedly close to her, wouldn't anyone else do exactly the same? Thus, Valencia keeps her emotions rather close to her heart, and often acts impassive in regard to things that bother or irk her in any way. She'd much rather have pent-up feelings than have someone else know what she's really thinking, as that sort of thing could undoubtedly be used against her.
Nevertheless, Valencia has an extremely testy temper - she often explodes into bouts of rage and violence, although more often than not, she manages to let her emotions go when no one is around to see her do so. Her temper is not only explosive in the verbal sense, but physical as well: her dormmates, by now, should be entirely unsurprised to find a pillow with a knife sticking out of it tossed haphazardly somewhere in the room. Of course, after Valencia has released all these feelings, she reverts back into her indifferent, impassive self; she finds stabbing pillows to be quite a cathartic experience, one that enables her to display her emotions without any real consequences (other than, of course, causing her roommates to regard her as completely and utterly psychotic). Valencia also has a tendency to let violent phrases slip whilst muttering under her breath but, if questioned on what, exactly, she had been saying, she'll think up something that sounds phonetically similar, but is entirely harmless. "I'll kill you in your sleep one day," she might threaten, but when asked to repeat her words, "Oh? Hm. Tony Blair has fallen ill due to sheep and a barrel of hay?"
It is perhaps due to these odd tendencies that Valencia has been labeled something along the lines of Completely and Dangerously Mad. Despite her reputation for being just this side of utterly loony, however, Valencia is an intelligent girl; most prominently, her proficiency in Potions is one that can't be ignored. In fact, she's become rather adept at concocting potions of a particularly lethal nature, although this is a fact that she keeps to herself - it'd be rather dangerous to let that sort of thing get about, after all.
All in all, Valencia Zabini is a girl with some serious issues but nevertheless, a girl who's quite capable of functioning, and even thriving, in this turbulent world. She's shrewd, she's calculating, and she could quite possibly kill you without blinking an eye if you pissed her off.
SAMPLE ENTRY: I am unimpressed. Highly unimpressed, Rabastan Lestrange; I was, frankly, unaware that an inquiry as to the essay on Confounding Potions was synonymous to extending you an invitation into my bed. No, Rabastan Lestrange, that is not a mirror in my robe pocket, and no, Rabastan Lestrange, you certainly can not see yourself anywhere in my robes, delightful though you may think they would look on you. I assure you, Rabastan Lestrange, while my robes may indeed be made of the most luxurious fairy-wing gossamer, and while they may indeed have been exclusively made by Gertha Gladrags herself, they are simply not the garment for a boy as exceedingly rotund and out-of-shape as you so clearly appear to be. Next time you're feeling the urge to do a spot of crossdressing, I highly suggest you ask someone a bit closer to your own size - Berta Bulstrode, perhaps - for a spare robe or two, lest you find yourself choking on the wand I have ever-so-accidentally happened to lodge down your throat.
In other news, the sun was remarkably bright today. How utterly lovely.
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