WELLS, Imogen.

[Imogen Wells]

T H E P U P P E T E E R

Alias: Kaleigh.
Age: 15
Experience: muchos.
Other Characters: Orlaithhh

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imogen wells

The Character » T H E P U P P E T

Canon or Non-Canon: non canon baby.
Characters Name: Imogen Wells
Nickname: Im-hoe-gin
Age: Seventeen Baby
Year: Seventh
Blood: Half
House: Ravenclaw
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Straight

Likes:
○ to come out on top
○ knowing secrets
○ being able to double cross people
○ partying hard
○ her smarts

Dislikes:
○ people who out-do her
○ being taken for granted
○ bad attitudes
○ ignorance
○ people who don't try

Weaknesses:
○ lads who make her swoon (nigh impossible, note brad pitt.)
○ her inability to forgive and forget
○ binge eating

Strengths:
○ seduction
○ unforgivable curses
○ brain power
○ confidence

Fortune or Friends: friends
Love or Power: love
Strength or Intelligence: intelligence
Courage or Fame: fame
Rebellion or Atonement: atonement

General Personality:
Strong and unforgiving, Imogen is that girl you don't want to cross. Complete with brains and power, she is most certainly a force to be reckoned with. Her one pet peeve is ignorance and she has an apt way of flipping out violently. But apart from this, she is your ideal student who works hard and plays harder. Top of the class, top of the social pyramid, she's known for heartless bitching and being able to wreck your world, although he exterior is quite innocent. She craves power, and often finds guys a weak spot, being able to make her crumble so much more easier than she would ever let on.

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Appearance » H A N G I N G B Y A T H R E A D

Celebrity Claim: Laura Conrad
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Build: Svelte
Height: 5'6
Clothing Style: Utterly Stylish baby yah.

General Appearance: That old school blonde hair blue eyes beauty that is both captivating and somewhat fake, although the hair protruding from her scalp is an entirely natural colour and matches the hair down below. She nails are always manicured to perfection, and never one hair out of place, or if it is, her casual I-own-the-world attitude makes it almost not matter, though inside she's probably sobbing like a babe. Her body is slender, but not skinny in the least, the one biggest insult she gets is that maybe her hips have too much meat on them for her to ever be size 6 or the like. Toward those bitches, she doesn't care.

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History » K I L L I N G T I M E

Parents:
○ Paul Wells, Welsh, Owns A Solicitors Firm, Father, Husband
○ Lea Wells, Welsh, House-Wife, Mother, Wide


History:
Imogen grew up a little rich girl through and through. Her parent's doted upon her like the precious people they were at home, but their attitude outside the house was so much more stuck up, that it found its way into Imogen, who gained some rusty characteristics from them. Her thirst for knowledge often landed her in trouble when she was younger, as she often went off on explorations. Then when she got into her teenage years, it got worse, she found alcohol and hangovers found her. Her parent's simply ignored her attitude, and soon enough their work paid off and it was rubbed away from Imogen's person.
When she was sorted into Ravenclaw, it was really no surprise to anyone, but in her first year even, she commanded attention and windled her way up to Queen Bee of the first years. Snooty at times, people often got frustrated with her, especially her peers. As she grew up, though, so did her personality, and she found her bossiness calming down, but still quite high in the popularity chain. She received the utmost attention from the lads, with her body developing well under the age it was meant to and in fifth year, she went through a stage of being easy. But then as she progressed into Seventh, her legs only opened every once in a while when she got the feeling for it.



RP Sample: Surprisingly enough, the owners of The Edelweiss Inn were incredibly racist. Their hatred of Austria and Germany rang throughout the pub, in various hangings upon walls, even down to the statues of German idols being publicly humiliated upon the bar top. The intense lack of all beer German and beautiful was apparent, serving only well known and old English wines and spirits to the oh-so-English customers. For example, the old greasy know all sat at the bottom of the bar on his fat arse drinking a cold pint of Bitter with the biggest smile on his face. There was a distinct smell in the pub of pipe smoke and weed. Despite the strong regulations on smoking inside within England, it appeared that the Anti-Nazi, Anti-Austria owners couldn't give two shiny coins. With dusky oak furniture, rotten legs on aged chairs and the stickiness upon the counter of spilt beer from decades ago, the muggle would not speculate for even the tiniest second that the chubby wrinkled woman from behind the bar used magic to clean her pipes.Although the spell cast was only ever weak. Every good landlady knew that the lager tasted better if the pipes were grimy.

For many reasons she could not specify, Niamh's favourite place at this time within her life was the Edelweiss without a shadow of a doubt in her mind. Conversing with the common pauper, like herself, mostly magical, often not, made the whole situation disappear. There was a strict unsaid rule within the Inn, that the mention of the horrors going on outside would never be spoken of inside. It was a quick, short sanctuary, rarely visited by a Death Eater or the like. Which in turn provided a hovel of sorts.

With natural hair pulled into a tight bun, and a wig of silken chocolate coloured hair upon her hair, falling in waves around her face, Niamh's skin looked fairly pale, her dark aquamarine eyes flashing boldy from beneath the heavy side fringe. Her lips were tinted with a light red colour, giving them more of a shine rather than a full on primary shade, and her cheeks were flushed from her first drink of the tangy Tetley's lager within the cold glass clutched in her hand. She took a long, deep sigh of relief as the uptight poured slowly from her bones, and her shoulders drooped, a loose smile on her mouth. She pulled on the grey sleeve of her sweater, the soft material clinging loosely to her curves and the dipped neck clung to the bulge of her breast. Black jeans scooped around her hips, curved down her thighs before coming to rest of the heel of grey plaid dolly shoes.

Niamh lifted a chilly hand to the back of her neck, massaging the tight muscles there with untrained fingers. Her eyes grimaced at the bulge of the nerves there, and the sensitive feeling that flew through her brain. She felt too tired, although the day had been spent just doing washing. Fatigue was often one of the emotions she portrayed now a days, along with complete boredom. But now, she was content, and lifted the lovely lager to her plump lips, taking a long, slow drink of the liquid that made the worst of problems disappear, because after all, time is never wasted if you are wasted all the time.
Other: weas-ar-ley.

[Rose Weasley]

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