Basic Information
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Date of birth: May 21st, 2010
Nationality: Welsh
Residence: Aberporth, Wales
Blood status: Wixborn
Year: Fifth
House: Mercator
Origin: Balanced
Nationality: Welsh
Residence: Aberporth, Wales
Blood status: Wixborn
Year: Fifth
House: Mercator
Origin: Balanced
Aptitudes:
Physique - 4
Intelligence - 10
Charisma - 10
Spirit - 8
Agility - 6
Sorcery - 8
Physique - 4
Intelligence - 10
Charisma - 10
Spirit - 8
Agility - 6
Sorcery - 8
Physical Description
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Small and slight, Enid is definitively bird-boned and is certainly no athlete, which suits her just fine. Her colouring is a study in pastels, with pale, sparsely freckled skin, light blue eyes, and long, strawberry blonde hair. Though she has a somewhat small mouth, all of her expression tends to live there, and she's always sporting a wry grin, or an angry scowl, or a disappointed pout. It acts as a sort of weighted balance to her small, rather squinty eyes, that leave even her most neutral expressions looking like some mix between bored and spiteful.
Personality Description
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A delicate composition of one part vanity, two parts ambition, and three parts spite, Enid Pryce is like a trendy new wine that everyone clamors all over themselves to serve at their parties, for no other reason than to show off it's monolithic price tag: an acquired taste, and never quite as complex as you'd like it to be.
Enid is the patron saint of order and structure: she applies the same rigorous standards that she holds her appearance and belongings to to her personal life and aspirations. Her hair is curled, her uniform is pressed, and her makeup is reinforced with two seperate water-proof charms, just in case. In parallel, she has a firm idea of what her life should look like and what the path should be like to get there, and meticulously journals to keep herself on track with her self-designed plan.
One would naturally expect this level of detail-orientation to be accompanied by a innate willingness to take up her spade and put in the hard work to propel her forward, but they would be sorely mistaken. Often disinterested and lazy, Enid is intelligent enough to be considered an above average student, but is reluctant to put in the work it would take to be truly great. She really only has the inclination and patience to put work into her most cherished hobby and intended future career: journalism.
It is important what your peers think of you, what your community thinks of you, what people in positions of power think of you. Some naively believe that this means you should push off in pursuit of the world liking you, but Enid doesn't labor under the same delusions. All one really needs to bolster their success is respect. She'll take fear though, in the absence of it. She's not picky.
Students of Penwick can expect to find all manner of news and rumors published in the weekly school paper. Sometimes, those rumors may very well be about the person reading it. Watch where you walk, and tread carefully. Enid is well aware of the power that a whispered word pushed mercilessly into the light can have. She's admittedly self-absorbed, but she also deeply loves all of those in her inner circle, and has few moral qualms about lying, cheating, and outright slandering in order to protect them, or to get revenge on theirs or her own behalf.
Also, sometimes she just gets bored.
Enid was rather relentlessly spoiled by her grandfather and former Headmaster, as such hasn't faced nearly as much punishment for her mean streak as she ought of. She is in no way ignorant of the partiality and privilege that this has afforded her, and while some more morally scrupulous individuals might try and shy away from success built on a family name, Enid prefers to simply wield the blade with precision and accuracy.
Blood status means next to nothing to her, but family legacy and connections mean a whole damn lot. Her lower regard for muggles and those raised by them is simply a modern flavor of the same old prejudice, wrapped in a veil of liberalism: magic has nothing to do with the blood that birthed it, but the generations of magical kin paving the way and building inroads for you? Those are important. What could a muggle upbringing offer you in the way of that? Surely little of worth.
There is a second, softer Enid reserved for those closest to her. Her parents, her younger sister, Santi. They get the best sides of her, the excited, curious creator, passionate in her craft, and the fearless adventurer, unafraid to face whatever life throws at her. and always pushing those around her to their full potential. She is physically affectionate, tending to drape herself over you, and has a talent for stumbling across thoughtful little gifts to show a person that she was thinking about them during her day to day. She has an endless font of patience to talk you through your fears and anxieties, though she isn't afraid to also give you the blunt advice that she thinks you need to hear.
She's both the life and death of the party: she will plan it, flit around to every inch and corner of it in search of a good story and a good time, and then get up early to clean up after it the next day. She is picky and capricious and more stubborn than anyone ought to be, but she is fiercely, unflinchingly loyal, and she will never let a promise fall and shatter out of her hands.
Never quite as complex as you'd like it to be. Thankfully, though, it's not your expectations that she's trying to meet.
Enid is the patron saint of order and structure: she applies the same rigorous standards that she holds her appearance and belongings to to her personal life and aspirations. Her hair is curled, her uniform is pressed, and her makeup is reinforced with two seperate water-proof charms, just in case. In parallel, she has a firm idea of what her life should look like and what the path should be like to get there, and meticulously journals to keep herself on track with her self-designed plan.
One would naturally expect this level of detail-orientation to be accompanied by a innate willingness to take up her spade and put in the hard work to propel her forward, but they would be sorely mistaken. Often disinterested and lazy, Enid is intelligent enough to be considered an above average student, but is reluctant to put in the work it would take to be truly great. She really only has the inclination and patience to put work into her most cherished hobby and intended future career: journalism.
It is important what your peers think of you, what your community thinks of you, what people in positions of power think of you. Some naively believe that this means you should push off in pursuit of the world liking you, but Enid doesn't labor under the same delusions. All one really needs to bolster their success is respect. She'll take fear though, in the absence of it. She's not picky.
Students of Penwick can expect to find all manner of news and rumors published in the weekly school paper. Sometimes, those rumors may very well be about the person reading it. Watch where you walk, and tread carefully. Enid is well aware of the power that a whispered word pushed mercilessly into the light can have. She's admittedly self-absorbed, but she also deeply loves all of those in her inner circle, and has few moral qualms about lying, cheating, and outright slandering in order to protect them, or to get revenge on theirs or her own behalf.
Also, sometimes she just gets bored.
Enid was rather relentlessly spoiled by her grandfather and former Headmaster, as such hasn't faced nearly as much punishment for her mean streak as she ought of. She is in no way ignorant of the partiality and privilege that this has afforded her, and while some more morally scrupulous individuals might try and shy away from success built on a family name, Enid prefers to simply wield the blade with precision and accuracy.
Blood status means next to nothing to her, but family legacy and connections mean a whole damn lot. Her lower regard for muggles and those raised by them is simply a modern flavor of the same old prejudice, wrapped in a veil of liberalism: magic has nothing to do with the blood that birthed it, but the generations of magical kin paving the way and building inroads for you? Those are important. What could a muggle upbringing offer you in the way of that? Surely little of worth.
There is a second, softer Enid reserved for those closest to her. Her parents, her younger sister, Santi. They get the best sides of her, the excited, curious creator, passionate in her craft, and the fearless adventurer, unafraid to face whatever life throws at her. and always pushing those around her to their full potential. She is physically affectionate, tending to drape herself over you, and has a talent for stumbling across thoughtful little gifts to show a person that she was thinking about them during her day to day. She has an endless font of patience to talk you through your fears and anxieties, though she isn't afraid to also give you the blunt advice that she thinks you need to hear.
She's both the life and death of the party: she will plan it, flit around to every inch and corner of it in search of a good story and a good time, and then get up early to clean up after it the next day. She is picky and capricious and more stubborn than anyone ought to be, but she is fiercely, unflinchingly loyal, and she will never let a promise fall and shatter out of her hands.
Never quite as complex as you'd like it to be. Thankfully, though, it's not your expectations that she's trying to meet.
Backstory
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Enid is the second of three daughters to Gawain and Alizé Pryce, fitting the middle child stereotype to a T. Gawain, a soft-spoken, introverted man, is a portrait painter by trade. Though he is immensely talented in his craft and does well for himself, it certainly didn't hurt that his father was endlessly happy to patronize his children's various pursuits. He met his match in Alizé de Lac, the charming and whip-smart eldest daughter of a French family in the business of the production and distribution of teas made from magical plants.
For most of her early childhood, Enid's life was idyllic. Her parents were doting, and though she and her sisters fought, it was always in the way sisters tend to, which is to say: vicious and razor sharp, but easily forgiven and forgotten in a matter of moments. When she was eight, however, Alizé would fall sick for the first time, though it certainly would not be the last. Her mother would spend the next seven years in and out of the hospital in Brynwell, spending long, exhausting months there as they tried to treat a magical illness that seemed to feed on both her energy and her magic. She'd occasionally be deemed well enough to return home to her family, only to end up admitted again within another month or two.
All of them handled Alizé's illness differently. Gawain did his best to fill the role of both parents, but was, at the end of the day, only just one man, and one who was weighed down by the suffering of his wife, at that. Regretfully, he often fell short, leaving his oldest daughter, Cerys, feeling as though it was her own duty to try and fill the shoes that their mother had left behind. Enid, for her part, responded remarkably poorly to all of this; she had nowhere to put all the fear and anxiety she felt regarding her mother, which left Cerys, who was attempting to assert authority far beyond that of a teenage sister, looking like a particularly appetizing scapegoat.
As the two of them would continuously butt heads over anything and everything, their youngest sister, Siân, who was as soft and introverted as their father, would often end up withdrawing into herself rather than being forced to take sides. Their disputes followed them all to Penwick, where Enid would be sorted into Mercator away from her sisters in Modron and Floranti, respectively. Perhaps the distance did them some good, as things tended to ease during Alizé's brief periods of wellness, only to boil over again when she inevitably returned to the hospital.
Enid did her best to exert a certain level of control over her life at Penwick that she was unable to achieve for herself at home, carving out strategic friendships for herself, as well as joining the staff of the school paper in her second year and slowly taking on more and more responsibilities. In her third year, she met Santiago.
Well, she'd already met him, going to the same school and all. Now all her friends were starting to notice boys differently than they had been, though, and Enid was determined to catch up.
She had liked Santi because he was simple, which is a laughable thing to say about someone their age: all of them were simple, the first few tentative outlines of a person. Santi, though, had possessed a kind of easy warmth that she gravitated to like the 'bug' he fondly called her. No matter how far you dug, fingers stretching to reach through roots and soil, that kindness was always still there, to the very core of him.
He was probably her best friend, as strange as that was to say about a boy, rather than one of her her housemates or anyone she sat with at lunch. It was true, though. While she may have been tangled brambles and sharpened canine teeth to everyone else, Santi always got the best of her.
She wishes he dressed better, though, and took his future more seriously, like she does. She'sworking on it, though. He'll get there.
In March of Enid's fourth year, her mother's doctors seemed to discover a breakthrough. They'd claimed many similar things in the past, but this one seemed to be sticking, and as Enid prepared to start her fifth year, Alizé had been home for a record five and a half months. Kept on a strict potion routine, her children watched, both too nervous and too jaded to hope for anything, as she slowly reintegrated herself back into their lives, as well as worked to find her footing in the de Lac family business again.
It's a good change, but it's left all of the Pryce sisters in limbo. Cerys, who graduated Penwick the previous fall, is now struggling to step back from the previous in loco parentis role that she's been filling, leaving her and Enid's relationship even more volatile than ever, as Enid seems determined to push every boundary and leave their relationship lying in a hulk of smoking rubble. Siân, who spent so many long years doing her best to stay out of every dispute, now seems determined to play peacemaker as she's worried about the effect that the fighting will have on their mother's fledgling health.
Their home was already something of a powder keg, so Enid was genuinely baffled and beside herself when her mother agreed to take in her childhood friend's son, Kasimir, after he was expelled from not one, but two different schools. Enid suspects that he intends to make Penwick his third. Everything always seems to come in threes.
By August, Enid was well and truly desperate to get out of their house and board the zeppelin back to school. Her grandfather's retirement and the subsequent appointment of Aunt Rhiannon may be an unknown variable, but whatever's in store for her this year has to be better than home.
For most of her early childhood, Enid's life was idyllic. Her parents were doting, and though she and her sisters fought, it was always in the way sisters tend to, which is to say: vicious and razor sharp, but easily forgiven and forgotten in a matter of moments. When she was eight, however, Alizé would fall sick for the first time, though it certainly would not be the last. Her mother would spend the next seven years in and out of the hospital in Brynwell, spending long, exhausting months there as they tried to treat a magical illness that seemed to feed on both her energy and her magic. She'd occasionally be deemed well enough to return home to her family, only to end up admitted again within another month or two.
All of them handled Alizé's illness differently. Gawain did his best to fill the role of both parents, but was, at the end of the day, only just one man, and one who was weighed down by the suffering of his wife, at that. Regretfully, he often fell short, leaving his oldest daughter, Cerys, feeling as though it was her own duty to try and fill the shoes that their mother had left behind. Enid, for her part, responded remarkably poorly to all of this; she had nowhere to put all the fear and anxiety she felt regarding her mother, which left Cerys, who was attempting to assert authority far beyond that of a teenage sister, looking like a particularly appetizing scapegoat.
As the two of them would continuously butt heads over anything and everything, their youngest sister, Siân, who was as soft and introverted as their father, would often end up withdrawing into herself rather than being forced to take sides. Their disputes followed them all to Penwick, where Enid would be sorted into Mercator away from her sisters in Modron and Floranti, respectively. Perhaps the distance did them some good, as things tended to ease during Alizé's brief periods of wellness, only to boil over again when she inevitably returned to the hospital.
Enid did her best to exert a certain level of control over her life at Penwick that she was unable to achieve for herself at home, carving out strategic friendships for herself, as well as joining the staff of the school paper in her second year and slowly taking on more and more responsibilities. In her third year, she met Santiago.
Well, she'd already met him, going to the same school and all. Now all her friends were starting to notice boys differently than they had been, though, and Enid was determined to catch up.
She had liked Santi because he was simple, which is a laughable thing to say about someone their age: all of them were simple, the first few tentative outlines of a person. Santi, though, had possessed a kind of easy warmth that she gravitated to like the 'bug' he fondly called her. No matter how far you dug, fingers stretching to reach through roots and soil, that kindness was always still there, to the very core of him.
He was probably her best friend, as strange as that was to say about a boy, rather than one of her her housemates or anyone she sat with at lunch. It was true, though. While she may have been tangled brambles and sharpened canine teeth to everyone else, Santi always got the best of her.
She wishes he dressed better, though, and took his future more seriously, like she does. She'sworking on it, though. He'll get there.
In March of Enid's fourth year, her mother's doctors seemed to discover a breakthrough. They'd claimed many similar things in the past, but this one seemed to be sticking, and as Enid prepared to start her fifth year, Alizé had been home for a record five and a half months. Kept on a strict potion routine, her children watched, both too nervous and too jaded to hope for anything, as she slowly reintegrated herself back into their lives, as well as worked to find her footing in the de Lac family business again.
It's a good change, but it's left all of the Pryce sisters in limbo. Cerys, who graduated Penwick the previous fall, is now struggling to step back from the previous in loco parentis role that she's been filling, leaving her and Enid's relationship even more volatile than ever, as Enid seems determined to push every boundary and leave their relationship lying in a hulk of smoking rubble. Siân, who spent so many long years doing her best to stay out of every dispute, now seems determined to play peacemaker as she's worried about the effect that the fighting will have on their mother's fledgling health.
Their home was already something of a powder keg, so Enid was genuinely baffled and beside herself when her mother agreed to take in her childhood friend's son, Kasimir, after he was expelled from not one, but two different schools. Enid suspects that he intends to make Penwick his third. Everything always seems to come in threes.
By August, Enid was well and truly desperate to get out of their house and board the zeppelin back to school. Her grandfather's retirement and the subsequent appointment of Aunt Rhiannon may be an unknown variable, but whatever's in store for her this year has to be better than home.
First Instance of Accidental Magic
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Gawain Pryce was terribly allergic to basically everything: pollen, dust, and creatures of every variety, especially. There were plenty of potions to mitigate that, but no one wanted to have to take allergy potions every day for the rest of their life. After an unfortunate mishap with Cerys' first and only fish (may Duke Mugwort rest in peace) a general ban on any and all Pryce family pets was issued.
Enid found this to be incredibly unfair, what with only being five years old and not having had any chances to fuck up any pets of her own, yet. The solution seemed simple: the garden was full of pets: pets with pretty wings, pets that wiggled and wriggled, pets that glowed in the dark, and, Enid's favorite, pets that would sing songs, once it got dark outside.
She started stealing jars from the kitchen when her mother and the their housekeepers weren't looking. She'd poke little holes in the top before filling them with dirt and leaves and sticks, the perfect homes for her new pets. She knew she wasn't allowed to have pets, though, so she'd hide them in the garden boxes on her windows and balconies, slowly amassing herself a small collection.
This all came to a head when her grandparents came to visit from France: her grandmother, being Enid's favorite person in the world - an easy feat when her world was mostly limited to ten or so people - was privy to all of Enid's most solemn secrets, so she was eager to whisper to the older woman at dinner that she'd gotten brand new pets of her very own. Her grandmother, who wasn't familiar with the pet ban, naively assumed that they'd gotten some crups or kneazles or the like, and encouraged Enid to bring them to her to see. Enid, eager to share them, filled her hands with her favorite of the pets, and ran downstairs to graciously deposit two dozen or so crickets into her grandmother's lap.
All hell broke loose at dinner, of course. At the end of it all, Enid was crying so hard from the chaos of the event and the anger of her parents that, once she finally ran out of tears, her body resorted to hiccoughs instead. Thus ushered in her first-ever incidence of magic: a five-year-old Enid Pryce, balefully hiccoughing pink and blue bubbles while her parents attempted to wrangle an entire herd of crickets away from the side dishes.
She'd earn the nickname grillon from her grandfather, and the christening would stick with her long past that night; she'd be called her childhood nickname of Cricket by her family members far more often than they used her actual name.
Gawain and Alizé reached out to hypoallergenic breeders, after that, and established a lovely compromise of letting the girls keep allergy-friendly cats and pygmy puffs. I regret to inform you that there were no more crickets kept in windowsills.
Enid found this to be incredibly unfair, what with only being five years old and not having had any chances to fuck up any pets of her own, yet. The solution seemed simple: the garden was full of pets: pets with pretty wings, pets that wiggled and wriggled, pets that glowed in the dark, and, Enid's favorite, pets that would sing songs, once it got dark outside.
She started stealing jars from the kitchen when her mother and the their housekeepers weren't looking. She'd poke little holes in the top before filling them with dirt and leaves and sticks, the perfect homes for her new pets. She knew she wasn't allowed to have pets, though, so she'd hide them in the garden boxes on her windows and balconies, slowly amassing herself a small collection.
This all came to a head when her grandparents came to visit from France: her grandmother, being Enid's favorite person in the world - an easy feat when her world was mostly limited to ten or so people - was privy to all of Enid's most solemn secrets, so she was eager to whisper to the older woman at dinner that she'd gotten brand new pets of her very own. Her grandmother, who wasn't familiar with the pet ban, naively assumed that they'd gotten some crups or kneazles or the like, and encouraged Enid to bring them to her to see. Enid, eager to share them, filled her hands with her favorite of the pets, and ran downstairs to graciously deposit two dozen or so crickets into her grandmother's lap.
All hell broke loose at dinner, of course. At the end of it all, Enid was crying so hard from the chaos of the event and the anger of her parents that, once she finally ran out of tears, her body resorted to hiccoughs instead. Thus ushered in her first-ever incidence of magic: a five-year-old Enid Pryce, balefully hiccoughing pink and blue bubbles while her parents attempted to wrangle an entire herd of crickets away from the side dishes.
She'd earn the nickname grillon from her grandfather, and the christening would stick with her long past that night; she'd be called her childhood nickname of Cricket by her family members far more often than they used her actual name.
Gawain and Alizé reached out to hypoallergenic breeders, after that, and established a lovely compromise of letting the girls keep allergy-friendly cats and pygmy puffs. I regret to inform you that there were no more crickets kept in windowsills.