Ciel Huo
Ciel Huo — 1

Birthday April 22, 2027
Age 15
Status Alive
Pronunciation SEE-el hu-WOH
Family Felix Park-Zelmerlöw (dad)
Yoon Jungkook (dad)
Rufus Yaxley (dad)
Fontaine Eun (brother)
Park Ilman (brother)
Handedness Left
Gender Female
Orientation Pan, pan
Relationship Single
Nationality Chinese
Speaks Mandarin, Japanese, Swedish, French, English
Species Human, Witch
Blood Status Pureblood
Eye Color Brown
Hair Color Black
Height 162cm
Model Wang Yiren
Ciel is intimidating at first glance. From the tilt of her smile to the crinkle around her eyes to the way she sputters out her laugh, it's as if someone took a marble statue and molded it into something warmer. Realer. Candid pictures tell a story of an estranged princess staring down at now callused hands. No longer tender, and act so anyway because what's the point if you can't be every side of yourself? Budgets don't go far. But she does and so does her social circle. Ciel presents in bold colors and designs. She holds nothing back on flashiness when the occasion calls for it. With her beauty? Zero callouts. She was a standout enough without. If you got it, flaunt it. She's not too fond of overaccessorizing. They make her feel weighed down. She does, however, appreciate a good pair of shoes. You can't top quality footwear, not when you're a dancer.
Ciel Huo — 2
Have you heard of the Wus?

You should see how the name slices fear into Mahoutokoro students.

You should hear the whispers of the fool that harmed one of their daughters.

Have you heard of the Wus?

I hope not.

They don't like to be spoken of.

Bad things happen when their mark falls.

Immunity to mom jokes is a treat of a lifetime. Huo Nai'er was born to two wizards who'd only swum in rivers of clover all their lives. They welcomed her into the world with a celebration that could've funded twenty lavish weddings. She had two older siblings, not far in age but far in interests. Her favourite in the playground was the monkey bars, so her fathers had the idea to get her into gymnastics. everything and anything for the glory of the family name. She started off as well as any other child, but in time, her teachers were swearing up and down they'd never seen such raw grit before. When Nai'er wanted to make a point, she drove it home and hugged it like a teddy bear. The commendations and the praise set their home aglow with pride. Her fathers spoke of nothing besides encouragement for all three of them at every family dinner. More recognition came in the form of a entertainment company visiting her school to watch their exercises and picking her out to become a trainee. She was six and she made sure her dads knew how excited she was for the idea. Her cartwheel down the hallway ended with landing at the bottom step of the stairs, unscathed. They couldn't say no after that.

Her brother died.

Do you get your looks from your mom? Before, Ciel would swell with pride as she said no, she got it from both her dads. The halls that once were always lit, open, now relied on the open drapes. Ciel was tracing dust butterflies on the glass windows when one of their few remaining servants came to tell her the next day was her last day at her school. April 20. Two days before her birthday. Her brother's birthday and deathday. The same day she decided Nai'er was no more and years later, Lucien Fleury fondly called her Ciel - sky. It would be the last day she'd ever step foot in her own house or see her bedroom. Grief and loss had ravaged her present, torn apart the foundations of her home, and driven her parents deeper into the underworld. Ten year old Ciel didn't have to unpack at Silencio Records' dorms. When she'd walked out, she'd taken one suitcase and one quivering drop of hope. Off that one drop, she weaned herself from fantasies and accepted nothing less than the truth. The first two years at SR were the hardest. She had brought one change of clothes and had to wake up at the crack of dawn to wash them. The cafeteria charged per meal, so there were days when she couldn't eat at all. Shampoo was too much of a privilege to spend on. The hair had to go. Snip snip. In that time, she dreamed that her dads, who knew where she was, would come to get her. They didn't. The dreams stopped in the third year. Right on time too. Wet pillows were never comfortable to lie on.

People came and went. That was how entertainment worked. Ciel had no time to go out of her way to make relationships. It was good they came to her. Practice rooms are never empty in SR, be it three in the morning or eleven at night. They were where Ciel had most of her social encounters, outside of her dorm. She watched the people she'd shared morning greetings with debut, leave, and for some dissatisfied ones, switch to another label. Amidst the trials of training, unknown kindness lent a hand every once in a while. She owed her first phone to that. Hand me down or not, it was practically brand new when it was dropped into her care. Her Hogwarts letter had come the day before she ran away, but she received her Hogwarts acceptance notification when she had her phone set up months later. If Durmstrang hadn't been so far away from everything and everyone she'd come to know, she would've gone there instead for her pen pal. Not many things and people had stayed the same after her brother's death. Suzanne Fleury was one of the few that came with a Permanent Sticking Charm. In some ways, Ciel went into the orphaned runaway life, not as alone as she originally thought she would be. Trainees were portrayed as this storm of perfection, a whirlwind born to breathe and enact the art. Some were. It was easy to look the other way if they wished for their struggles to be stones unturned and stories with pages torn out. Park Ilman was, is, a total jackass hanging inside a closet, but Ciel's not afraid to air out some less than ideal clothes. Wardrobe malfunctions came with the territory. Ilman was one of them.

In Ciel's first year at Hogwarts, she spent most of her time in the towers. Less people, lots of space, and the stars and floorspace to herself. She stayed out of people's way. Most were out of hers. Ilman? Not so much. For a star student, he was prone to hiding away like some common crook and bumping into her. When she told him of this observation the first time, he told her to fuck off. Apparently, she looked sad enough to make him feel bad about it. This catapulted into a sequence of events making them realize they were both under SR, and that both of them weren't the most social. Much like Suzanne, Ilman got stuck to her without much meditation on the topic. At the start of her third year, she hoped that the breaks that came with the mandatory electives would be worthwhile. It would be the least of her worries. Her troubles came to an all time high. Scandal after scandal hit Silencio, forcing her to leave everything behind and switch labels. New routines, new people, and the new classes chipped away at her. An ankle and shin injury banned her from practice. Worst of all, her older sibling visited before Christmas. She wasn't seen leaving the dorms for months after that.

That year carved new scars into her. And this time they didn't go unnoticed. She joined Lysander in the support group that their labels insisted they go to. Fourth year came and went like a dull knife: barely there but painful all the same. She refused visits from her family and clung to Ilman's presence like it was her last breath. Most of her nights were cooped up half-assing homework and poring over music sheets in frustration. She felt like she'd lost her muse for music and life itself. No longer did she roll out of bed at four sharp. And Suzanne? Suzanne was another issue. She passed her exams through too many extensions, too many remedial classes, and too many meetings with the professors. Her fifth year hasn't begun with a bang, but all she really wants it is to end as swiftly as possible.

Lagom. If you ask lukas, that's what Ciel is all about. Not too little, not too much, just right. He says that in reference to her height ("lukas im gonna fucking fight you smug pucko") but it applies to the rest of her as well. To Ciel, lagom is a privilege. After being written out of her family at such a young age, her life's been a 360 degree turn into dépaysement. she makes the driest possible jokes about it despite the exulnasis that is due to follow. It's easier to stomach than any direct admission of she used to have short hair (that she improvises with borrowed applique scissors) because she couldn't afford to buy shampoo. The look on ilman's face when she told him that is perhaps the one sentiment he shares with everyone. Sometimes the result is pity, sometimes it's anger, and sometimes even disgust. Ciel doesn't have time to be annoyed about it; what she cares about is if they're willing to give a hand. Beggars can't be choosers. It's been so long that she no longer misses the luxury of a bedtime, or the laugh of her parents as they told her to sleep.

Jugaad. Once she had to fend for herself, she didn't take any chances. She brought what she could in her tiny, worn out suitcase and refused to waste anything. Nothing good ever comes out of being finifugal in the stories, so in all the anger of a ten year old, she vowed to take care of herself back then and make whatever she could have last. With every word in her parting note to her family, 'goodbye' was neither a fantasy nor an end. It was her beginning. Her Flootube and life subscriptions branched out from dance to DIY. Whatever was left of the princess that once was stayed with the words she inked onto paper, the fingers that knew every inch of silverware, and the glisten of her beauty against the morning covers. There is no difference between a faucet leak or someone's skepticism. Who thought that one slip and slide was going to stop her from hoppipolla? People can sound their dragon horns all they want. Arrogance has caused them to forget: not all dragons are of wings, some are of stone. By the time they remember, only peasant blood can anoint the birth of a dragon.

Râler. Ready to roll out of bed (without getting tangled; it's a gift) doesn't equal okay with it. Ciel invests in too many naps in the middle of the day as proof of that. dreams aside, she doesn't "reach" for anything. Reality's reality. It's unwise to get carried too far downstream, or to rise higher than your wingspan will allow. Her resentment grounds her from holding expectations that go beyond the mind's eye and taking exports from the land of second thoughts. The glamour of life blacklists those with no bed of sugar, which aren't so different from the salt cushions given as handouts. Cheap as dirt isn't an insult. No, she looks at the grit beneath everyone's feet and sees roots. Roots make up people and lead to what coin side they chose to follow. And she? She knows what she chose, what side's in the pockets of her conscience. The roots beneath her speak and spit of bitterness. Consequences aren't so easy to accept, especially for someone like Ciel. Cracks have had their shot at her pillars of constancy. If Ba Sing Se fell, then she supposes she can too.

You're not scared of fire. You're scared of its tears.


Ciel Huo — 3
Wand Hornbeam, 12 inches, Pixiu hair, reasonably supple
Interests Bikes, dance, different cuisines
Pet Peeves
Star Sign Taurus
Dreams/Goals Debut
Colour Cerise
Song NO, by CLC
Show Aang: The Last Airbender
Movie Bring It On: In It to Win It
Book Pictures of Hollis Woods
The Boxcar Children
Food Croque monsieur
Drink Salted caramel hot chocolate

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