Casiphia Hughes

Casiphia Demelza Hughes
Biographical Information
Born	26 December 1920
Died	8 April 1943, 22
City of Birth	Hay-on-Wye, Herefordshire
Current City	Herefordshire
Residence	Clifford Estate
Blood status	Creature
Also known as	Sivi
Physical Information
Species	Vampire
Gender	Female
Height	5'6
Hair Colour	Dark brown
Eye Colour	Hazel green
Skin Colour	Wheatish
Relationships
Father	William Hughes, Baron de Clifford (deceased)
Mother	Madhuri Singh (deceased)
Siblings	David Hughes, Baron de Clifford deceased
Education
School	Hogwarts
House	Ravenclaw
Class of	1939
Classes Included
Occupation
Title: Apothecary Employer: Independent Title: Curator and Private Historian of Clifford Estate Employer: Independent
Character Information
Playby	Anya Chalotra
Biography
Glitter Bomb

Casiphia has been a creature of contradictions and the in-between for her entire life: neither a daughter nor a ward, and yet both; neither Indian nor British, yet each; neither accepted nor an outsider; neither living nor dead.

She is compassionate, yet bloodthirsty. She's kind, yet stern. Friendly, yet untrusting. Lonely, yet reclusive. Drawn to beauty and art and life, yet repelled by her own nature among the undead. Freed from the laws of physics, yet trapped by her environment. Passionate, yet restrained. Longing for more, but stuck in her ways.

Appearance

Casiphia has her mother's Indian features of large almond-shaped eyes, full mouth, graceful hands, wheatish complexion (turned paler after death), slender build and long, dark, wavy hair. Her eye color, inherited from her British father, is hazel green with brown and grey upon close observation; depending on the light and distance, they appear amber, darker brown, or almost lavender grey. A rare smile would reveal the presence of a dimple in her left cheek. Height: 5'6" Weight: 134

Personality

Reserved, thoughtful, observant, and well-read, Casiphia always made for an insatiable student, whether tutored at home, at school, or otherwise. She values her privacy and independence, plays piano, is enthralled by music and sings with great feeling, tends to her plants, potions, and books, and generally avoids other vampires and the concept of covens as a the whole. A fondness for animals and solitude finds her keeping mostly to herself. When she does converse, she doesn't often waste time on niceties and half truths; pragmatism guides her words and renders her sense of humor dry. Casiphia's tendency for candor is offered as a courtesy. While capable of compassion, she has little patience for ambiguity and is disinclined to suffer fools or games. An extensive vocabulary owing to a well-cultuvated personal library of classic literature renders her style of speech inadvertently archaic. Some of this is unconsciously done and sometimes simply because she enjoys a well-crafted sentence. Though her temper is not easily lost, Casiphia has limited tolerance for impertinence.

History

Casiphia's father was Colonel William Robert Rhys Hughes, the son of a lesser aristocrat whose ancestral home, the Clifford Estate, was situated in the Wye River Valley, on the Welsh side of the border opposite Herefordshire, in Brecknockshire. He was, for all intents and purposes, a good man who made mistakes. His wife, Mary, was a kindhearted woman who accompanied William to Punjab, where he was stationed for several years. While the powder keg of political allies and assassins was exploding in 1914, Mary was becoming especially close with an Indian servant named Madhuri, who upon the loss of her own husband to the war became an ayah, a nursemaid, to William and Mary's infant son, David, born in 1915. 1918 and the Great War's end saw the young family returning home. The promised return to normalcy was cut tragically short, however, when Mary succumbed to the Spanish Flu in 1920. Devastated, Robert took solace in the constancy of Madhuri, who had accompanied the young family back to continue caring for young David. Madhuri, also grieved by Mary's loss and reminded of her own husband having fallen five years previous in the trenches, likewise craved an anchor of steadiness. Some months later, the two found it in each other's arms.

It was more impulsive than the conscientious man could remember having ever been, and the following morning, he was full of remorse for what he saw as taking advantage. Confident that neither his family nor the posh circles in which they ran would look kindly at a lawful arrangement between he and Madhuri, William was nonetheless determined to do right by her, most especially once time revealed a lasting consequence to their night together. Madhuri's pregnancy was kept quiet and William arranged for a nearby annex to house both her and the child. Repentant though he was, William adored his daughter and named her Casiphia after a sister he'd lost to scarlet fever as a child. Though neither could call what they had "love," William treated Madhuri with a gentle concern, and she, with respect. The two became friendly enough that, when Madhuri succumbed to pneumonia when their daughter was 6 months old, William took it very much to heart and saw to it Madhuri rested not far from Mary in the family's private graveyard.

William threw his focus into the care and upbringing of his two children. Casiphia was still housed apart under the care of a governess, but her father visited daily, often with his son David in tow. Though the household staff more or less deduced the girl's ancestry, the official story went that Madhuri had been pregnant by her late husband when she accompanied the pair to England. The math did not add up, but most among the staff knew better than to comment, and those who did not were quickly hushed.

The woman who raised Casiphia, a Mrs. Fox, was a no-nonsense old maid with plenty of time devoted to her young charge's education but very little time for what she referred to as 'coddling.' How that translated was that encouragement came without conditions; affection was offered generously, but indulging in childish tantrums or self-pity were staunchly not permitted. She was also very matter-of-fact when it came to explaining why people looked at her differently. Mrs. Fox could offer nothing at all when it came to teaching Casiphia about her mother's culture or native tongue, so she reasoned it all the more important for Casiphia to know French and Latin. As she got a little bigger, her half brother David became a regular playmate. He never cottoned on to their true connection, but they were inseparable until he was old enough for boarding school. Once he inherited the estate, William saw to it all the more diligently that Casiphia had access to his library and stables, his hothouse and kennels - any place in his home, any interest she desired to pursue. Though unprepared to send her to school like he had her brother, William denied her as few privileges as he deemed possible. Casiphia's love of music (she was particularly entranced by the gramophone in his study) and literature (she was determined to read the entire library) and of the natural world, was one adopted from her father.

Great was their surprise in 1932 when it happened that Casiphia would not only be sent away to school at the age of 11 after all, but to a most peculiar one, at that. William had supposed his daughter's way with his hothouse roses was the result of an extraordinarily green thumb until the arrival of a letter-bearing owl illuminated just how special his younger child was.

It was with awe and delight that Casiphia discovered she was far less peculiar a person at Hogwarts. Though she often missed her father, brother, and Mrs. Fox, her thirst for knowledge only grew and found reward in abundance. Unfortunately, the early 1930s were as much a time of unrest in the Wizarding World as in the Muggle one. This time it was not her mixed parentage that was the problem with her blood: being Muggleborn in the school during the publication of the Pureblood Registry was, nonetheless, yet another thing she could in no way alter. Once again, she was caught between worlds, belonging to both and to neither. Determined not to let biases stop her again, Casiphia buckled down in her schoolwork and dug in her heels with a mulish determination.

Upon graduating, Casiphia's NEWTs scores awarded her the opportunity to apprentice with an apothecary out of St. Mungo's. But when the Muggle's second World War brought devastation raining down, she took it upon herself to escort many groups of Muggle children, one train ride at a time, back to her home in the Wye River Valley where, among many others, her father and brother had agreed to open their home to those seeking refuge from air raids. Though they were safe at home, Casiphia's fate would forever change in 1943 after joining relief efforts in nearby Cardiff, despite her family's protests for her safety.

In the wake of the final air raid the city would see, Casiphia was among many searching the rubble for survivors in the wee hours of the morning. She had no idea a predator lurking in the shadows would have been present to take advantage of the melee's cover in order to hunt.

Casiphia Hughes died just after 4 in the morning on May 18, 1943. She was 24 years old when turned.

She remained at the side of her sire for over a decade. This was more out of necessity than any sense of loyalty or affection. From Casiphia's point of view, they had perhaps the same civility of a prisoner and her captor. She needed protection and to learn the ropes of her new existence, and he was only too eager to teach her. But Casiphia was also anxious to sift through the fog and remember the life that had been stolen from her.

It was the mid 1950s before she remembered enough to make her way back home to Hay-on-Wye. It was not the return to normalcy she hoped: her father had passed, and as the family fortune declined along with the aristocracy, her brother had been forced to sell and take a more modest home in London. A new family with new money now owned what had both almost and never really been hers. In a wild fit of grief and rage, Casiphia sent the family running and promptly moved in. Rumors grew among the local Muggle population of the vengeful spirit said to haunt the old Clifford place. She reinforced the rumor by allowing the grounds to grow unkempt; vines of climbing roses overwhelmed the gates and walls of the stony exterior of the house. Within, she tended her home in a fastidious manner that belied the gloomy façade of disrepair keeping intruders at bay - for the most part. The more foolhardy thrill-seeker was certain to find more daunting hurdles on the grounds.

Over the decades that followed, Casiphia became something of a recluse. She procurred blood from the blood bank at the new moon or took a quick nip to the Wolf & Lamb if hungrier than usual, and otherwise kept to herself when not fulfilling potion requests in the semi-anonymous method she'd set up to make ends meet. Though powerfully aware of her isolation, she was very reluctant to join a coven; after the loss of her father (who'd thought she'd died in the air raid) and subsequent losses of Mrs. Fox and David to both distance and time, the idea of mortal companions felt unbearable. Certain of the local wildlife were used enough to her presence that she was able to take a degree of comfort in watching the badgers trundle about and foxes hunting, but it wasn't a true comradery. By flight in bat form, she found a little more freedom, and often Casiphia was drawn to attending symphonies and concerts from the rafters - though in later decades, the music grew too loud for sensitive ears. She would often stay till all left and take advantage of the acoustics to sing or play piano (the estate's instruments and even her father's old gramophone having been sold in her absence, along with so many things). In such moments, she felt almost human.

Home

The Clifford Estate

Not far from the ruins of the original Norman motte-and-bailey castle lies the Clifford Estate, a Jacobean manor of some size built in the early 1600s. It lies in the midst of its feudal barony holding of a few thousand acres, though in the last fifty years, the edges of some nearby villages have technically encroached on the barony lands. As the last known baron died childless and no (known) relatives could be found, the barony drifted into abeyance.

It was said that the grounds featured stables, kennels, and hunting ranges, as well as a well-stocked lake, a thriving apiary, and groves of apple and olive trees.

Though the aristocracy declined and the last Baron de Clifford was forced to sell, the family who took the estate on did not last the year. Rumors spread among the villagers of a vengeful spirit, perhaps the ghost of some long-departed baron haunted the manor. It was not long before few were brave enough to venture into the lands, now a wild tangle of overgrown weeds, brambles, and wild roses heavy with thorns. Beasts of unknown shape and size were said to roam. Stories said the manor itself, now also ruined, and even the high stone wall surrounding the manor grounds, were almost wholly overgrown with climbing roses.

Interior descriptions to come.