by selasphorys » Fri Jan 03, 2025 4:07 pm
Mildred Fong | 68 | Female | 1st Year Winter Student
Pronouns: she/her
Sexuality: Heterosexual (happily married)
Appearance:
At just 4’ 9” (and a half, don’t forget that), Mildred is a tiny woman. She wasn’t much taller in her prime. She has a honey-colored complexion with warm brown eyes. Her salt-and-pepper hair is pinned into a short, feathery bob. Mildred has a round face and build, with a crinkly smile and many years of laugh lines. She has come to accept the wrinkles and white hair as products of time. Though she’s a little old lady, Mildred still has a sprightly energy to her steps. She attributes this to her morning walks and Tai Chi, as well as the social dancing lessons she took with her husband on weekends. While not in uniform, she wears a rumpled, purple cardigan embroidered with phoenixes of gold and silver thread. She insists on putting on brightly-colored crocheted mittens, scarf, and hat while practicing cryokinesis, muttering something about catching a cold.
Personality:
Mildred is a cheerful lady, treating each day with a can-do attitude. She tries to find wonder in the little things, holding onto little bits of light in otherwise dull days. She makes the best of things. A nurturing soul, she will take anyone under her wing. She cares for others but tends to neglect herself. Mildred loves to keep herself busy, helping out when needed and butting in when not. She’s always ready to offer advice and wry remarks. As a student, Mildred is meticulous and industrious. She generally follows rules, tradition, and authority. She often gets lost in the details when she devotes herself to her studies. Her status as a non-traditional student makes her timid in class. Mildred struggles to keep up with the others, but she refuses to seek help. She would rather put on a brave face, studying alone under the light of the moon.
Bio:
As long as she could remember, Mildred centered her life around family. She showed her love through duty. Though she was fascinated with the moon and magic as a child, she listened to her parents’ wishes to study something more practical. Mildred went to university, became an accountant, and soon started a family of her own. As she raised three kids, she forgot all about her childish dreams. Rushing home from work, getting food on the table, helping with school projects— she fell into routine. Mildred hardly knew who she was anymore. But even then, there was something wistful in the back of her mind. A pull toward the window and the open sky beyond. In the cover of the night, Mildred slipped out a beginner’s book on magical theory. She would steal a few hours of study a week, with only the moon for company as she sat alone at the kitchen table. This nightly study sparked her first interest in lunar magic.
After the kids left the nest on paths of their own, she finally felt ready to do something more. She was running out of time. With retirement came the chance to live a dream. She dove into her studies, sent out applications to every magic school she even had a chance at. Out of a sea of rejections came an invitation from Featherwick. Her first attempt was met with failure as she floundered in the Trials. The second year, after much preparation, she finally made it. She lulled a cicada to sleep in the Dome, steeled herself to cross the Bridge. An old granny with a bad knee would never make it past the Chase, but she survived with a clever bit of trickery. She cast an illusion of a person about to reach the boarding area, and as the last stragglers gave up, she walked through the illusion and took the final space. If tackling an old lady was fair, this would surely be allowed, right?
Mildred came to Featherwick to realize a dream from long ago, to reach out her hand and grasp the stars that were once out of reach. She doesn’t have high expectations of becoming a master spellcaster. She can’t even see herself as comparable to the bright-eyed young students who had studied magical theory their whole lives. All she wants is to one day crochet a blanket that will chase away bad dreams and insomnia for all who use it. The blanket would always smell of home, whatever that meant to you. An illusion, yes, but a kind one.
Other:
- of Cantonese descent
- speaks fluent Cantonese and Mandarin
- enjoys knitting, crochet, and embroidery
- struggles with cryokinesis and transmutation