Not A Hogwarts Student?? {Retired Application}

[Michelle Ryder]

Name: Michelle Ryder
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: Outspoken, begrudging, can be self-centered, unpredictable
Sample of your RPing:

All lights were on her. The stage was set to take the world by storm once again. It had been weeks since Michelle had found an open mic night, mostly since she had traveled to Austria from London. The streets of London were constantly filled with musicians looking to make their mark on the world, just waiting for someone with power to walk down the street and hear their vocal chords do what they did best. It was always a possibility that just singing on a curbside when a record producer walked by could turn you into the next millionaire song-writer. Michelle had been carrying around that dream for over four years, hoping to be discovered by someone on the London streets. So far, she had become nothing short of a girl who sung on the bar at first opportunity and kept her guitar case open while on the streets, hoping that some paper money might replace the usual number of coins.

Tonight, she was working though. Getting a gig at this club had been the best thing in the last few weeks, and the good news was they actually paid. When signing up for her time slot, she had even overheard another artist talking about how someone in this very same restaurant had been signed only a month ago by a record label. Some big shot had been in, looking to get drunk and had instead found himself in front of some great talent, apparently. Michelle’s eyes lit up at the thought of possibly being one of those lucky girls who came in on the right night at the right time. If she could only get herself out of the rut she had been stuck in for ages, she might actually be able to make something of herself. Her sacrifices she had made her whole life would actually be worth it.

Slipping off her trench coat, she revealed a gold tank tucked into a pair of shorts, complimenting her gold flats that sparkled in the hot spotlights. The colors against her pale skin worked so well, much better than the black that sometimes made her look like a ghost. It was far too warm up on stage to be wearing her jacket through the performance but once you got this Ryder going, it was hard to get her to stop, even if she was on the bridge of heat exhaustion. Behind her, Michelle could hear the track she had brought being slipped into the player and the familiar sound of instrumentals filling the air. It started off soft but it only took a moment for the soothing jazz sound to get twisted into something a little more her style. The guitar and drum sounds hit the crowd with a wave of her infectious song as her hand wrapped around the microphone, pulling it from the stand with ease. This was her home. She was back where she belonged.

“Take me, I’m alive. Never was a girl with a wicked mind but everything looks better when the sun goes down…”

Important Word from Rules: ACCEPTED
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[Damon Santiago]

Name: Damon Manuel de Santiago

Will your character be an adult or a child?
Vampire.

Describe your character in seven words or less:
Demanding-
With more than a hundred years under his belt it's fairly safe to say that Damon likes things his way and is fairly used to getting them that way. He may not be a complete perfectionist but he has a way he likes things and a way he likes them to be done- and he expects them to be done that way.
Arrogant-
This is a well known fact, and an obvious one. He knows he's gorgeous, he knows he's intelligent, and he knows that he's charismatic even with all vampire compulsions aside. If he were to believe in a god he would be sure to think he had made him as some sort of a gift. As it is he shows it in other ways.
Stubborn-
Could probably go best with demanding. He likes to think he's right- even when he isn't- and stands by what it is that he believes. The saying goes that you can bring a horse to water- no matter how resistant the horse- and while this is true it takes a good deal of convincing and evidence for him to come around.
Charming-
Damon's fairly good at getting what he wants when he wants it because of how smoothly he handles situations. Although it isn't always the only reason behind the charm. Regardless of how up to date he's been keeping himself he still has a sort of old world charm- and in some ways a way of looking at things. Particularly women.
Whore- There is no pretty way to put it. Damon likes his women- short, round, tall, thin, curvaceous, thick, loud, shy, vibrant. It doesn't really matter to him as long as it's his name that they're screaming out. When it comes down to it though it's not always the fairer sex that he has an interest in, even if they are his main preference.
Ruthless-
When it comes down to it he's not above getting bloody- actually he rather likes it- and if you're standing between him and what he desires it's more than likely you'll end up that way.
Bloodlust-
is NOT something he learned to control over the years. Sure he exercises restraint but he never acquired a taste for something that wasn't coming out of a warm body- consensual or not.
Intense-
It's not necessarily something he can control.
Bipolar-
In the extreme. He can go from joking and laughing to intense and moody without any recognizable offset.
Sample of your RPing:
He was rather impressed with the way his companion was conducting himself, despite the criticism he could most competently point towards his companion. But then again Roman was an overly critical type of person, one that could find fault with even the most exquisite piece of art, though he was nowhere near comparing his counterpart to that of a work of art despite what he'd heard of his school day reputation. After all, the boy had been in jail a good six years, past reputation meant nothing after those days spent in captivity. And even if he held past reputation in light, his popularity with those of the opposite sex mattered little in what they were about to enter into. What mattered to Roman was that he conducted himself well through the preliminaries of this meeting, and proved to at least somewhat matched the intelligence he was rumored of having. So far he'd proven himself smart, and more than a little knowledgeable about what he was doing. While his trained eye had caught into the smallest mistakes Malfoy had thus far made, any other just passing by would have far from noticed. He could easily have passed for one of the wealthier crowd that occupied the opposite end of Knockturn Alley. In a way it was Roman's fault for bringing him to the seedier end, not that any part of Knockturn Alley wasn't, but the establishments and people themselves did tend to digress the further you went in. But it couldn't be helped. He'd heard that Malfoy was the utmost concerned on matters of privacy regarding this, and with his recent stint in Azkaban Roman could well understand why. The Cat's Eye was the one place he could be assured no one would stoop to look for his blonde haired counterpart, and the one place he could be sure no one would report from.

He'd allowed his mind to wander slightly on the walk here, even as he had opened the door for his companion. His facial expression conveyed nothing at all, the firm set of every particular feature mostly identical. There was business to be held at hand, and relaxing wasn't an option. Neither, at this stage of the arrangement, was becoming to comfortable with his counterpart. He doubted the man sitting across from him held any warm feelings towards what they called the Ministry these days. It was far more than obvious that the judicial system was corrupt. And not only according to the prophet either. All the same he was still slightly cautious of the fact that his companion could be informing for the Ministry in exchange for his release, they'd tried before to catch Roman. Though none of their attempts had come even close to touching, or scraping for that matter, even the surface of his operation. Waiting patiently he let the tips of his fingers come together to form a steeple, his elbows securing themselves on the edge of his knees, generally joined hands falling just between his knees. His 'good then' was muttered softly in reply, his vivid green eyes hidden under heavy lids, chin notched slightly to the floor. It was better to get straight to what the person seated across from him wanted him to do... And if Roman would do it. Not a matter of could. He was confident, arrogant in fact, that he could handle any job handed to him. The question was rather he wanted to or not.

His mind was set to rest very slightly at the obvious unease of his companion, though it could be that he was a phenomenal actor, though he was sure he hadn't heard anything to that score from any of his contacts. In the following silence he let himself become acquainted with the features that had been before hidden from his eyes, his heavily hooded iris' making a short work of it. He could see where he'd earned the romantic aspects of his former reputation from. Even with the drawn out look he held now you could clearly see the sculpted features, and some of what he had been. He supposed that Azkaban did that to one, though looking at him he knew his companion wouldn't take much longer to bounce back to his former glory. It was looking in his eyes that decided him finally. Before, with the opaque lenses between him and his companion he couldn't really say definitively one way or another what he thought. The vulnerability was there, carefully masked by the unease, and an emotion that could only be described as some form of intense passion. Hatred would work well enough, though not knowing the target it could just as easily be a spurned love, not that he found his companion to be so fickle. He let a mental sigh rush through him, though no breath of air passed his lips. From the description he had been given he expected some form of a metro-sexual, something he really couldn't abide by, even if half of his client base was one. It was sad really, what the male sex had disintegrated to over the years. He had no problem with homosexuals, at least the ones who weren't so fake that it was blatantly obvious. But metro-sexual? He didn't understand why one would wish to be classed under a category that made you seem more feminine. While some qualities were to be admired in those of the fairer sex, having the aspiration to be one yourself, and still go after girls would never quiet ring true in his ears...

He was digressing again, though at the sight of his partner seemingly getting ready to say more his eyes snapped to attention, the heavy lidded look disappearing even before the first word was completely out of his mouth. He showed no expression at the utter of a name, he'd expected something more finite than what had come, though it served well enough. The only thing he knew of the name was that he was a famous quidditch player, and good at the game judging the few games of his Roman had been to. Not to mention that there were rumors of dubious activities surrounding his name, though nothing finite, or exactly clear as to whom it came from. From many mouths the name was uttered with utmost respect, and awe. Coming from Aiden's lips however he could practically see the loathing within his companion's iris', the dull tone of voice doing nothing to disguise the emotion behind the eyes. He nodded thoughtfully as he waited for his companion to elaborate, after only the three worded specification he allowed himself the small pull of a smile. "I assumed that was the reason you came to me... May I ask why? And some history, though if your not too willing with that at least a sketch..." He paused his eyes assessing his companion frankly. "I'm not the most moral of characters Aiden, but I don't do senseless murders. If you want him for some squabble that isn't justified I'm afraid I can't do business with you, though I'd be happy to direct you to one of my acquaintances." And with that little speech over he lent back, one arm resting lightly on the arm of the couch, the other crossing his midsection resting on his legs, fingers curled ever so slightly. He hoped the boy would be willing to speak, because to be honest with himself he was intrigued... something he'd quiet forgotten the feel of.

Important Word from Rules:
ACCEPTED

And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us?
Cams baby.

[Deleted]

Name: Malachai Hanley
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: Dark, moody, chain-smoker, observant, quiet, short-tempered.
Sample of your RPing:

Malachai had been forced to make life-altering decisions before. They were a rarity, but with his occupation, not too uncommon. The one thing that they had all had in common was that they were his and his alone to make. This one was no different. Everything was at stake for him. His home, his money, his lifestyle, and his life in general. This time, however, another life was attached to the conundrum he faced. His son’s. He had known about Blaine’s existence for a year now. He hadn’t had the easiest patch with the young boy. His mother was a woman apparently known for getting around the block frequently. Even with the uncanny resemblance’s Malachai still had issues with accepting paternity for the young child. The boy seemed like a good kid. Every time he saw Blaine, the boy was quiet and kept to himself, not a far reach from his supposed father. It didn’t help either that the kid’s mother kept pushing the boy down his throat, not even giving Malachai a chance to accept the possibility that the kid was actually his and not the result of another one night stand. Even if the boy was his, there was nothing about his life that welcomed the intrusion of a child. By trade, he was a DeathEater. He worked for the Dark Lord when needed and lived a quiet life of solitude in his downtime. It was a not at all a lifestyle suited for a father. He thoroughly enjoyed his late night outs, drinking until the sun came up and getting into the occasional bar fight or two. The life of a bachelor had been his for years now and he had no interest in changing it.

That had been until a few months ago. Malachai had just gotten back from a two day trip to London when an anxious looking owl greeted him at the door of his rundown apartment. The scrawl was unfamiliar but random owls were a regular thing in his business. The letter had been from the landlady of Maureen, the kid’s mother, urgently requesting him at her apartment. He wasn’t sure how the witch had gotten his name and was close to ignoring it when his eyes caught Blaine’s name at the bottom of the letter. He still isn’t sure to this day what caused him to apparate to Maureen’s apartment, considering he hadn’t had any interest in the kid, but he did. Upon arriving, the landlady informed him that the woman had been on a drinking binge for the past three days and had landed herself in the hospital for alcohol poisoning. If Malachai didn’t take the young boy, he would have been given to the state and placed in foster care. He had looked to Blaine after the old woman had finished speaking. The boy was sitting off in a corner playing with an action figure missing a leg, somehow oblivious to the world around him. Once realizing that he was looking at him, the young boy stopped playing long enough to stare him in the eyes with a sad look that reminded Malachai of himself. It was then that he realized that Blaine was his and that he had been foolish to deny his son for as long as he had. Without saying another word, he walked over to his son, picked him up and apparated the both of them back to his tiny little apartment in Dublin.

The days he had with Blaine were some of the happiest of his life. It hadn’t taken the either long to warm up to the other. Malachai’s happiness was short lived though. Only three days after picking up Blaine from his worthless mother’s home, Ministry representatives arrived at his door to take away the child. Since his living conditions were not suitable for the boy, he was to be held in custody until either parent could provide a stable environment for him. As he watched his crying son being taken away from him, he vowed to be the parent Blaine would be coming home to. The first, and most important, change of his lifestyle would be his career change. Malachai had been losing interest in the work of the Dark Lord for awhile now. This was his opportune moment to remove himself from the situation. He wasn’t a fan of the good side by any means, but figured that by associating himself with the side, it would help the state look at him favorably. No one knew of his connections, but with the times now seeming to require people to pick one or the other, being against the Dark Lord was better than nothing. That, and he wanted Blaine to not have to grow up around shadiness any longer. That had been what helped Malachai stray to the dark side so long ago. His parents had never been there for him so rebellion had ensued. Blaine didn’t deserve that life.

All Malachai needed now was to get his affairs in order. As much as he loved his home, there was nothing for him in Ireland. If he really wanted to make his presence known, he needed to go to the center of all the activity. He had only been to Austria two or three times during his tenure under the Dark Lord. He didn’t have anything against the country but it didn’t hold a flame to the place he had called home for all of his life. This wasn’t about him anymore though. It was about Blaine and doing what needed to be done to get his son back with him.

Important Word from Rules: --ACCEPTED--
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[Marlon Wagner]

Name: Marlon Wagner
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: Refined, Intelligent, Poise, Kind, Guarded
Sample of your RPing:
Today was the day. He could feel it in his bones. He had to, if he turned around and went back to work without seeing her, again then he wasn't ever going to be able to forgive himself and would have to let Cammie kick his butt one more time. Marlon was starting to wonder if maybe she had been watching him this whole time. If she had any idea how often he came this way on his lunch breaks, how often he stood on this very spot staring at the doors as people came and went. He was fairly certain that if he stood here for too much longer that the spot under his feet would start to be worn down under his shoes. Then he really would be given away. His royal blue eyes lifted upward to scan the rows and rows of windows for that auburn head of hair. Was it even still the same brown? The color that managed to catch and reflect sunlight and yet manage to smell so nice and touch so soft. He felt his fingers wiggle against the Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands involuntarily. How long had it been since he had seen her? Almost a year. He had caught a glimpse of her before collapsing on the ground behind a potted fern plant, he had just gotten so nervous and didn't want her to see. Before that? He wasn't even sure. All he knew, was that just about every Thursday afternoon he came out there to stare at these same set of doors from the promenade. He would purchase two large latte's from the same cart who now knew him by name and had his items ready just as he was arriving. They would talk for just a little, since the man was married to some Secretary within the Ministry, billing if he wasn't mistaken they had enough to talk about. It was a medial job, but Marlon assumed that it was fulfilling enough to warrant keeping it for all these years. Once they were done, Marlon would walk over, to his spot just to the right of the main entrance and wait. He assumed that with her schedule she just never came out this way, if she even worked on Thursday's at all. He had never managed to make it into the Hospital to find out.

He wasn't quiet sure what he would do if he ever found out that Autumn knew his pattern, that she had known all along that he came by every week and waited for her. Waited to pluck up the gumption in order to go inside and have a conversation with her. In his mind, he had worked over dozens of topics, twice as many apologizes, and even more scenarios of what might possibly happen as to how she would react. Perhaps she was sitting on the third floor right now, looking out of a window watching him. Maybe she was drinking some tea and sitting in all of her scrub clad glory watching him. Perhaps it was the romantic in him, but that almost sounded like a date to him. How pitiful they both would have been, sitting in the same spot looking at each other unspoken, only so far away at the same time. His lips upturned at the corners at the thought. He could feel the steam lifting out of the cup and bathing his hands in a lightly fragrant steam. He shouldn't be here. The negative thoughts were starting to consume him. It wasn't fair, her life had to of carried on down whatever path to more wonderful things that she was destined to travel down. He had to of been just a bleak speck on the otherwise shining highway of her life. There was far too much to going on in his life to bog down another soul with, yet a part of him craved to spill to another person. To share in some not so innocent conversation, to hold his own body close to another persons. To be intimate with all of his clothing on, the same intimacy of the soul that he had only felt in reality with one other person. Was that just his childish innocence or was it something else? He should have spanned out his feelings, but then again he had his weekly date with this spot on the floor to attempt to think through his feelings. In more ways than one, this was the only real time that he got to himself at all throughout the week. His home hadn't even been his own sanctuary as it once would have been. Of course, the old drafty house never really had been enough for him. It was too large for one person, it was meant for a family, at the very least a couple. It was a house that had seen so much hate in it's years that it needed to have love in it. Love would be exactly what the peeling wall paper would have needed.
Important Word from Rules: ACCEPTED
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[Deleted]

Name: Rosalyn Lucille Harlow.
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult.
Describe your character in seven words or less: Fiesty, opinionated, free-spirited, kind, focused, brave and easily excitable.
Sample of your RPing:

The one thing that had made Autumn so successful in her life was her commitment. Nothing was impossible. Sure, some things took longer than others to accomplish, but it was possible to do them. One just had to have the right focus and dedication to get the job done. She had always prided herself on having the trait. She had never been quite sure of where it came from but figured it had a lot to do with her always studious nature and yearning to make something of herself. It was single-handedly the reason why she had progressed up the ranks of Healers at St. Everdines in such a short period of time. She had been with the hospital only four years and had already worked through being a meager resident, an apothecary, a trauma Healer who worked nothing but emergency and now a full-fledged Healer who had access to seeing a variety of patients and the ability to work all the floors. There were still ways to progress in the medical field but for now Autumn was content. She wasn’t quite ready to spend a majority of her time behind a desk filling out paperwork to keep the hospital running. She had no qualms with meeting with medical representatives and other important people, but she didn’t want to speak with them only to plead for their access to crucial supplies or funds the hospital needed. Most importantly, she couldn’t order people around to do tasks that she was more than capable of doing herself. She was a hands-on worker. She knew she had to make full use of it for as long as she could.

Commitment was what made the world go round. There were various ways of it but it was truly the driving force behind everything. As much as Autumn hated to even think about it, even the Dark Lord himself had used his commitment to plan his massive attack against Gringotts and to constantly do what he felt needed to be done to work towards his goal of ultimate power. It was a sickening fact, but it was true. No one could expect to get themselves anywhere in life without that drive. She couldn’t be fully happy with what she was doing unless she knew she had done everything to the best of her ability. Like now for example. Art was one’s own creativity. Nothing had to be perfect. It was simply whatever the artist saw as they were painting, sketching, sculpting or whatever outlet they chose to express themselves. There were no set plans. An artist simply allowed their mind, body and soul to take over their hands and let them do the work without any questions asked. Unfortunately for Autumn, things didn’t always pan out that way when it came to her drawing. Often, she got so into her pictures that she needed everything to be as perfect as possible. She attributed this to her perfectionist side. There was no one to impress, yet she didn’t feel as if she would be truly satisfied unless her drawings or paintings that came from inspiration happening right in front of her was life-like. The children she was sketching deserved to have every aspect of their youth captured on her faded sketch pad. She wanted them to be like she had taken their picture straight from a camera where every detail and movement was forever etched in paper.

Commitment was also what made Autumn too absorbed in her tasks to notice things going on around her. The hours she had spent at the library studying for her Healer exams were often cut off by the librarians at the Alzubra Alley Public Library who told her that the building was about to close for the day. There were times she got so caught up in her reading that it well past her bedtime and only a few short hours before she needed to get up and go to work. Then there were the situations where she would be so honed in on her real-life drawings that she would add an extra person or item in that shouldn’t have been in her picture or exclude one that had recently joined. It was one of Autumn’s worst qualities. She wished that she could get better with it, but it seemed nearly impossible with the endless amount of time that had been devoted to disconnecting with the world due to the books in her hands. While it was admirable to some, and something she tended to be thankful for at some times, she knew it was something that would get her in trouble. And it had once or twice before. Potential suitors didn’t like a girl who could tune them out with a simple word or phrase that reminded her of something that she had read or had happened to her at an earlier time, just as an example. Men weren’t a must in her life, but they deserved respect if the same was being shown to her. Marlon had been the first, and only, man who had made it better than it certainly was now. Sometimes Autumn just simply preferred her dream world over the real one.

She would glance up every few seconds or so, but never really took in her surroundings. Autumn’s attention was solely on her sketching pad and the children’s snowball fight before her. Her pencil moved faster along her sheet of paper as she got closer, excited that so many more details she missed were popping out at it. She could now see the skinny tree branch weighed down by the snow that had fallen on it, sure to collapse at anytime on top of the girls fort. She could see the bit of exposed grass at the base of the boys from all the snow that had been gathered from the snowballs. She could also see the various shapes and sizes of the snowballs traveling at different speeds, each completely different from the others around it. There was so much that needed to be in her picture, but Autumn didn’t mind it. Everything was so captivating. If she wasn’t careful, she’d wind up tearing out pages from her sketch pad to create the entire backdrop of the children’s snow war. That would only result in her staying outside longer than her body could handle and having to mix up a potion at the end of the night to ease the runny nose and coughing that would result. She smiled as the laughter of the children became deeper and happier. It was so easier to draw when her subjects were full of such life. It truly made her creativity jump out and take over control, which she was more than fine with. After the prolonged absence of her muse, it was so refreshing to have it back.

What would happen next was something straight out of one of the muggle movies that Autumn loved so much. She had been finishing up the touches on the girl’s jacket and getting ready to shade in the fabric protecting the child’s arms and chest when something hit her. Needless to say, she was completely caught off guard. Unable to keep her balance, her body fell forward. Her hands, so desperate to keep herself from serious injury, also went forward, causing her sketching pad to fly from them and land on the ground a few feet away from where she was. She braced herself for contact with the ground, but it never came. Instead, Autumn fell on a soft, but solid, mass. A short grunt left her mouth once things had stopped. Finally being able to focus on what was in front of her, Autumn’s eyes and mouth widened in terror as she observed the fabric of a sweatshirt. She had landed on a person. She could feel the color rush to her cheeks, her face quickly becoming warmer than it had all day. She was humiliated. Her obliviousness had gotten her in trouble before, but never actually causing harm to another individual. Her body was frozen, too mortified to move. She didn’t even want to look her victim in the face. Her petite hands were still pressed against the chest heaving uncomfortably as it struggled to take back the air that had been driven from its lungs. She needed to force herself to move. She knew well enough that even though she wasn’t a heavy girl, any amount of pressure on organs that were trying to stabilize themselves didn’t help anything. It would only be her luck to have to use her medical training on the poor soul she had knocked over.

Finally, Autumn’s head began to move. Without fully realizing it, it was lifting towards the face of the person she was on top of. She had heard that when people first set eyes on another, the time it takes for words to be first exchanged between the two was an indicator of the impact that person would have in the other’s lives. She could vouch for that. Marlon had been the first. He had turned out to be her first love, her first everything. Damon had also turned out to be another one. Though she saw him in a completely different light from Marlon. He was her first wild and unpredictable friend, acquaintance, whatever they were. Then there was this man. As soon as her gaze landed on the blue eyes of the scratchy, rugged face of the gasping man, Autumn was hit with it again. It often amazed her how things happened and fell into place. How things could start out one way and go completely unexpected until the end. The face of her victim was one she would have liked to have been introduced to under completely different circumstances. He was so handsome. So much that her cheeks were burning. Not only because of the embarrassment but because her shy demeanor was slowly coming forth. She wasn’t good at socializing with attractive men outside of work. There had never been a book on that. If so, she certainly would have read it by now. The silence between the two was long but not completely awkward, which was strange considering the circumstances. However, Autumn knew this couldn’t last. They were complete strangers in a position usually reserved for friends or lovers. Since the man was still unable to do anything, she would have no choice but to initiate.

Autumn’s way of initiating the process to better the situation only made things worse. “B-b-breathe in and out slowly,” she tried to say, her medical knowledge kicking in but her mind too jumbled to realize that she needed to get off of the man in order for him to do so.

Important Word from Rules: Manticore.
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[Robert O'Conner]

Name: Robert O'Conner
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: Quirky, Chatty, Funny, Spirited, Adventurous, Persistant
Sample of your RPing:

He felt the slick bottom of his shoe shuffling from one step to the other as Gavin lazily moved about the stairs. He had no incentive to rush, if he did then he would just be coming face to face with the first years. He wasn't a prefect for a reason, he didn't like to deal with people that he didn't have to. He had given Draco a pat on the back out of pity before he had ducked out of the feast as soon as the plates had been cleared. He liked to be the first to the dorm, sure it was the same arrangement every year just like they always chose the same bed placement every year but it was the principal of the thing. He liked to have his things situated before everybody else came in, that way he didn't have to waste time unpacking whenever he could be spending that time sleeping. He wasn't a night person, he was much more a fan of sunlight. Contrary to the popular Slytherin stereotypes that they were all similar to vampires. Of course, it wasn't like at home where he had to hang all of his clothing in a wardrobe and hang his ties on a rack. He wasn't given such luxuries here, the closet that he go to a wardrobe was the two garment bags that he hung from the corner of his four poster bed holding his better suits. It was almost depressing, since whenever he did have occasion to wear them, it was going to be wasted considering the only people who were going to see them were mostly mudbloods. Yet, he tried not to let that get him down. He had loaded the proper things into his bedside table and fluffed the remaining clothing left within his enchanted trunk. He had been forced to change into his uniform only moments ago, despite all of the humiliating moments he had endured during the sorting ceremony. Gavin was a very well dressed individual, but he hated to be clothed in improper attire, it was degrading. He had made it a point to clean himself as quickly as he possibly could and dressed properly, even though it would be curfew shortly, so it was essentially a waste of a pressed uniform.

The feast had been uneventful as it normally was, it was a small kindness that he was very grateful for. There was conversation, wonderful food and as always a very long winded speech about safety and staying out of the forest. It would have been nearly intolerable if it weren't for Draco's amusing running commentary on the old bat. What the ferret face lacked in compassion he certainly made up for in wit and humor. He could hear the shuffle of tiny feet as they sorted themselves out at the bottom of the stairs. As he made his way down he spotted the open door to the third year dorms and heard conversation happening within the confines of the room but had no interest in eves dropping. However, he did pause because he had no intentions of coming face to face with the prepubescent ones at the bottom of the stairs. Pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to just above his elbows despite the knowledge that he was going to stretch them out, running his hand down his tired face. It was times like these that he detested his good looks, for some reason unbeknownst to him, it seemed to invite all matter of questions as well as unwanted attention. Even with his attitude and superior graces people turned to him. Today, more than he normally tried to, he needed to avoid the nagging questions of others. He still felt on edge, like he needed to find some outlet to vent his emotions from earlier today. Since there wasn't anybody around, he didn't need to make a spectacle of himself by shouting at an eleven year old who bothered him. Whenever the feet seemed to have calmed down, and he heard the slamming of a door he started to head back down again, one step at a time, letting his feet slide down the stairs with ease.

He peered around the corner, only moving forward whenever he double checked that the coast was clear. Smirking to himself he moved forward into the comfortable room. His fingers ran over the back of the couch, relishing in all of the comfortable smells. He very much preferred the common room after it had been lived in for a few months. Whenever there were scarves and papers placed about the room. Whenever people were milling about and extra possessions were just left out for the taking. Slytherins had excellent possessions so it was always a win win. Like this, in it's current state where the house elves had scrubbed and polished all of the surfaces, and all the bookshelves were still empty felt hollow. It was his house, but it wasn't his home. Not yet, not this year. So many memories, and not one of them was really just his own. All of them were tainted with the fact that the only reason that his years here at Hogwarts weren't as boring and run of the mill as all of the years before his, was because that stupid 'Chosen' boy was in his year. Only a two full more years until he was rid of that brat, and if anybody was willing to take care of the issue sooner, Gavin would put himself in that line quickly. There were a few people still lingering in the common area, which was to be expected because nobody had been up in the common room whenever he was in there. He had managed to catch the very end a sentence by one of the men that shared his dorm with him. ”idiot free once more.” Shaking his head, he removed his hands from his pockets and perched himself on the arm of the couch opposite the man. “Where? Certainly not Hogwarts” He let a sarcastic laugh die on his lips. “Any promising new talent amongst the grunts?” He thumbed in the direction of the first year dorms.

Important Word from Rules: - ACCEPTED
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? Referred by Michkayla

[Torsten]

Name: Torsten
Will your character be an adult or a child? Vampire
Describe your character in seven words or less: immortal, ancient, cunning, vindictive, angry, sly, passionate
Sample of your RPing:

She didn't want to look at him, she didn't want to be in his company at all. So instead, she chose to focus her eyes on the people walking past, the small throng of people filing out of the double doors. She could catch glimpses of the outside world, and wished that there was anybody, anybody but Sidney that could come and steal her away for whatever purpose. ”Fine” “What?” Turning her head a little bit too quickly she stared up at him with her impossibly green eyes. He was just going to accept defeat like that? He was just going to give in and let her win...was this some sort of game? “How about I make it up to you over a pint? If we’re lucky, they’ll still have the Christmas brew – you know the one that flashes from red to green as you drink.” She felt...flabbergasted, totally blindsided by his sudden, and very strange change of heart. He couldn't possibly mean it. Shaking her head, she laughed a very strange laugh, disbelieving. Shuffling her arms around, she pulled on her coat, and went about tying the sash around her waist while she did so. She should have worn stockings today, she knew it, she could already feel the cold air hitting her bare legs every time that the door opened and a gust snuck in. She knew the drink that he was talking about, and while she normally didn't care for beer of any kind, she did like the way that the colors tended to change. Once her coat was on, she tucked her purse under her arm, and left her arm wrapped around it . “What do you say? You wanted to relax, and I am now parched.” Looking back up at him, her eyes searched for something that might hint that he was lying to her. She wanted to see the good in people, but he had proven to her that he wasn't good time and time again. This, was something that the fantasy version of Sidney might say...

She must be imagining things, which was a plus. Shaking her head she nodded, muttering to herself 'yeah, pint alright'. She felt herself being herded toward the entrance along with the rest of the patrons as the goblins were doing the best to close up shop. Once outside, she found herself squeezing her eyes shut and opening them slowly, waiting for him to dissipate like her fantasy images usually did. Yet, he stood fast. This was, a strange situation. He was just standing there, looking like a normal man. Not like the man who had tormented her throughout her school years or that called her names and insulted her family. Sidney, with his oddly warm brown eyes and crooked nose. Her brow furrowed, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and huddling her coat closer to her body. She really didn't know what to say to him. “Your friend back there nearly gave me a concussion with that lantern.” Her lips parted, but no sound left. It took her a full minute to collect herself “He did no such thing, and you provoked him” She said in defense of her employer. Slowly, she took a step backward down the alley. It was in the direction of both home and the Leaky Cauldron. “I’m surprised you kept a level head back there. You could’ve knocked my lights out like you did Dean Harris.” At the memory, her cheeks flooded with red and she averted her gaze. How could anybody possibly remember that, except for Dean of course, it was something that would likely be imprinted on his brain for the rest of his days. She hadn't really meant to put the poor boy in the hospital, and it was a freak occurrence. However, he had learned his lesson and left her alone since he had returned to school. “That, was an accident” She gushed, brushing her bangs back and behind her ear as she spoke.

“I’m surprised they didn’t throw you in Slytherin after that. I swear that sorting hat must be daffy for putting you in Ravenclaw.” He was being...kind to her and she didn't know how to take it. Of course it was a welcome change but she didn't know how to react to it. At least, he was being his version of nice she supposed “I'm proud to of been in Ravenclaw” She stated defiantly. She didn't even realize that they had been walking, he must have been guiding her without her realizing it. Whenever she looked up and noticed that they were standing under the frozen sign that read 'Leaky Cauldron' she would have thought he had apparated them here if she weren't able to look back and see her own footsteps in the snow. She was shifting her weight from one foot to another quickly, it must have been her nerves from the impossible finally happening. She knew it wasn't the cold bothering her because she adored the cold weather. “Well...I suppose because we're already here...” Turning away from him quickly, she pulled open the door for herself, if she had allowed him to do it, she might have fainted.

Important Word from Rules: -ACCEPTED
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? On another site

[Katharine Makari]

Name: Katharine Makari
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: Attention addict, adrenaline junkie, outspoken, well dressed
Sample of your RPing:

The streets of England were bustling with people ready to spend their hard earned money on useless things that would get them nowhere in life. Katharine happened to be one of them. Her family had no riches, nor did she have a high paying job to supply her wants and needs that came from these expensive stores, however she had managed to find her way into a small amount of cash through a lovely muggle family who was more than happy to supply her with a days’ worth of shopping. Her first stop had been Gringott’s to convert the dollars into galleons.

The good thing about goblins was they didn’t ask where you got the money and they didn’t look at you strange when the look on your face showed pride as the money transferred hands. They really didn’t care what humans thought. All they knew was the faster they helped the person standing in front of them, the sooner they could be rid of them and back to their lonely, miserable lives. Kat didn’t understand why they wanted to be alone all the time or why they hated humans as much as they did, but as long as they did their job and got her the money they were looking for, that was all that mattered.

Swinging a bag on her arm, Katharine walked into the next store in line. The bag she carried already had two pairs of shoes inside, both high end heels and both that needed an outfit to go with them. Her next stop in the alley was a relatively expensive looking clothing store. The windows showed skimpy outfits that barely hid the risqué pieces of plastic the manikins had to show. Some were far beyond where Kat would go. Though she did enjoy flaunting the assets her mother provided, she was nowhere near a prostitute. Normally, she tried to go for the clothing that still covered her up and provided just enough coverage to keep the average male guessing. So although this wasn’t her typical store, she knew the outside wasn’t the only thing available on the inside.

As she stepped through the threshold, her eyes immediately fell upon a red dress dead center in the room. It was a one shoulder dress, a-line cut, that dropped down to mid-thigh. That was it. It was perfect to go with one of the pairs of heels she had just purchased. With the two in combination, she would be unstoppable at a bar full of drunk men. Every single pair of eyes would be on her, even those that were already attached to another with a ring. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Walking forward confidently, her free hand went straight for the hanger that had a small number 2 labeled on the top. The next stop, the dressing room and from there? The world of men was at her fingertips. From there, she could go anywhere.

Important Word from Rules: ACCEPTED
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? Proboards Support

[Catherine Drakonas]

Name:
Catherine Rochelle Drakonas
Will your character be an adult or a child?
Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less:
Cunning, Ambitious, Cold, Calculating, Dangerous, Powerful, Wealthy
Sample of your RPing:
There seemed to be a reoccurring pattern concerning her alone time, one she wasn’t sure how she felt about. Regardless of when she left or where it was that she took herself to it seemed that someone always managed to find her these days. Given the fact that she, when not on business, was used to spending the majority of her time alone it was something that she was beginning to find both disconcerting and more than a little odd. Even this place that she had found seven odd years ago and never once come across another person in was now playing host to two living, breathing bodies. The fact that she hadn’t alerted him to her presence or shown anyone the area itself only furthered the statistical impossibility of him stumbling across it. As far as she knew she was the only person to inhabit it on a regular occurrence, actually she’d never found any physical evidence that anyone else had been in there… ever. It was always the same, every time she came, no matter where or what she’d left within the alcove it was always in the same spot. And yet this curiously pollyannaish character had stumbled upon her here, and she had given him the directions in. Something she wasn’t regretting yet, but there was the question of whether she would later or not niggling at the back of her mind, wriggling its way slowly towards the forefront. He had such child-like enthusiasm, such utter faith in the fact that he would be well received that it was hard to do anything but though. He was charismatic, she would give him that, words that should have irritated or at least bothered her doing nothing more than starting a familiar cadence, another thing she wasn’t sure she was okay with. Who was he to just appear like this anyways? There was no way someone could be this optimistic, this friendly all the time. And it couldn’t be pawned off on the fact that she was Irish, she knew other Irish people and they could be just as surly of a lot as the rest of the world. Which meant that either he was putting on a show or he was just … this… happy? She tilted her head slightly at the mischievous glint that was dancing through his green eyes, her eyebrows raising just slightly at his skepticism. Even before he was done uttering his disbelief at her reasoning she found herself further justifying it in her head, refusing to just give in. It wasn’t even that it bothered her or that she found it particularly important- she just had this undeniable urge to correct him, unable to just let the subject fade inconsequentially into the background. “Universal?” It was her turn to be skeptical, her head shaking back and forth in two definitive movements. “There are entire cultures that don’t make use of chairs, some that find them altogether uncomfortable as a furniture piece entirely.” Something that she was familiar enough with from her extensive travelling. There was a client family in Persia that considered it rude for their guests not to longue with them on the floor mats that were provided in the familial part of the estate, a defiance of their hospitality. This man was so unusual she was having some difficulty tearing her eyes away from his form, watching as he glanced at the enclosing around them, wondering what was going through his head. This wasn’t her house, she hadn’t been lying. She more than considered it her space, but it was still public domain, still not directly hers in any proprietary sense. But then she wondered if that mattered to him, when he seemed so unconcerned with the polite, political way of going about things. He didn’t seem to observe any of the societal rules that she had come to see as the norm, other than their brief handshake a bit earlier, he was just… seemingly completely unaware of their observances.

Of course once he was explaining who it was that he really was it was making some sort of sense within her mind, even if she couldn’t completely acknowledge it. Robert O’Conner. Of course he wasn’t dead, that was something she’d never truly accepted, something she couldn’t wrap her mind around at the time that they had started those rumors. Her brain was at such a standstill she was having issues responding the way she should have. There was some of the boy she had grown up with coloring this man’s features, the same mischievousness she had found so remarkable earlier reminiscent of a younger him, the eyes and the familiarity behind them so very obvious. And yet still she couldn’t completely grasp that it was Roberto, the same Roberto that she’d grown up with those many years ago sitting in front of her. He’d been a bit older than her but with the family that he hailed from it was no surprise that she had been so close to him back in the day in a matter of speaking. Their mother’s had been best friends, their children bundled off together when one of their drunken adventures begged to be embarked upon, forced to coexist in some sort of manner. The fact that Robert had been a bit closer to her older sister Fawn’s age hadn’t stopped he and Micha from ending up together more often than not though. Fawn wasn’t terribly interested in anything other than herself, preferring to spend her time locked away in her own room in those days, and Micha had been left to fend off Robert’s teasing herself. Her hand rose idly to the area he had tugged on her hair earlier, fingers brushing the locks with a look of confusion painting her features. Of course she wouldn’t have been able to recognize him just off of the fact that he tugged on her hair, it wasn’t like that was the most prominent memory of him that she had, although it was the most often reoccurring. But he had left after his first year, disappeared from her life completely. Her eyebrows drew suddenly together as the memories assaulted her completely, the shock of finding her parents dead coupled with the harsh words in the letters she had received from him in return bringing a light flush to her cheekbones. They had been friends once upon a time, even if she had been annoyed with his constant jesting and teasing, they were together so much it had been only natural, and they had had all sorts of things to get up to and into back in the day. Her hand jerked down from her hair in a sudden movement, her features going almost completely still. Of course that’s why he had left, he had gone off to some prodigy school, and when she had tried to contact him he had written back to tell her that he no longer wanted her in his life. And why not? He was better than her after all now- obviously. Her muscles tensed upon her chair and she found herself swinging her legs off of their perch, pushing her body back into the corner of the chair, her arms pulling her legs to her chest and hugging them there, hands clasped loosely around her tense arms. She let her chin lower slowly to the tops of her knees, her eyes going back to his as she nodded once, almost dismissively. “Yes. Dead. Or a hooker. I don’t really remember all of the rumors.” Fuck him and his Irish accent. “Wasn’t all that important anyways.” She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, her eyes going back to his somewhat accusingly. It wasn’t like she hadn’t written him some odd number of ten or so letters trying to find out herself even after the fact.


She refused to feel bad about the fact that he seemed to be angry at her explanations, refused to care that his good mood seemed to have diminished somewhat. Good riddance. If you disappeared off the map you couldn’t expect the rumors not to abound like that, and you certainly had no right feel like it was unjustified of someone to tell you it back verbatim. That’s all she was doing after all, it wasn’t like she actually cared. She twisted her lips into some semblance of a sociable smile, all the easy relaxation from earlier disappeared from her posture, the friendly greeting she’d given him a distant memory. “By she I’m assuming you mean my grandmother or you mother. The last I heard from your mother was that you’d gone off to some prodigy school.” The last she’d heard from her grandmother was to dismiss him from her mind. That had been just before she’d written the letter her seventh year to try and find out what had really happened to him. And after it came back with the biting response in it she had been forced to admit that her grandmother was probably right. It would have been best to dismiss him then. He had been ‘too busy’ for their friendship when he had first left. She couldn’t even remember what had possessed her to write him again in her seventh year, why it had been so important for her to know the truth behind the rumors. But the letter she’d received in return had been enough to stop any such foolishness after. It had been even more cold and impersonal than the last two she had gotten back. “Our friendship was juvenile, I don’t have time for somebody like you.” The parting line had stuck with her, she felt the urge to spit it back in his face now, repeat the shit that he had sent to her now, though she doubted that he would even remember the exact wording he’d used. Her fingers dug into her arms slightly as she repressed the urge to remind him, or say something. But it didn’t matter, not really. Her pride had just been a bit dented, that was all. And she didn’t give a fuck that it sounded off in her own mind, obviously she was just getting the wording wrong somehow. She watched as he moved once more in the chair he was seated, her eyebrows going somewhat sarcastically up as he pulled a badge out. What? He had to show her that his prodigy school had paid off and there was a reason for the snobbery that he’d pushed through? She almost refused to read the words that were engraved upon it, the childish urge to ignore him tearing at the back of her mind. Which was silly. She could appreciate that he’d gotten something out of life with the witch he had for a mother, and she didn’t mean literally. So she let her eyes run slowly over the lettering, her eyebrows drawing together tightly as she ran back over it. “But that can’t be right.” She couldn’t help it as her thoughts slipped out through her lips. Because he wasn’t a muggle. She had grown up with him.

She let her eyes run over the badge once or twice more for good measure before looking back to him again. “You aren’t a muggle.” She said it definitively, the curse that should have been the word not even present. But he wasn’t a wizard. Because wizards didn’t hold that title. Which left very little wriggle room between. He couldn’t be any other race, his mother hadn’t been the one with fidelity problems. Her eyebrows knitted further together as her brain raced towards the conclusion that she wasn’t sure she could acknowledge just yet. Because if he wasn’t a muggle and he wasn’t a wizard that left only one thing with the family he had. “I don’t remember.” She answered his question somewhat distractedly, her eyes not even on his form anymore as her teeth worried her lower lip as she continued trying to piece the puzzle together. “You had tutors or something because you were so special,” the last word managed to have some venom in it even as she made a dismissive gesture with her hand before letting it go back to her arm, her gaze returning even more slowly to him.

Squib.

The word that had been jumping around inside her brain finally made headway, her eyes still slightly narrowed as she took her companion in. That would make him a squib. Her eyes ran over his figure quickly as if to dismiss the claim, doing a quick inventory of his person, looking for the telltale shape that was so obviously a wand. Her own was tucked into the right front pocket of her jeans. His was nowhere to be seen. His wand could be in his back pocket of course, but no wizard actually left it there when sitting, especially after the movements he’d been making between the chairs. So his mother had sent him to a prodigy muggle school? Squib school? She almost shook her head. Of course if he had decided that wizards were somehow inferior… which made no kind of sense, even if it did explain the tones of his letters. Or maybe he’d just been pissed off that she wasn’t one. “Is that why your letters were so antagonistic?” She couldn’t help the question, her brain berating her instantly as the words left her mouth, her lips shutting in a fine line as she realized her mistake. Fuck. “I mean. Did you think you were better than me because you managed to get out of the circle?” The circle from hell. She let her chin lift a notch, the daring glint in her eye the only hint to the anger she was holding out of her voice as much as possible, the unidentifiable emotion niggling at the back of her brain pushed aside once more.
Important Word from Rules:
-ACCEPTED
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us?
It is I, Leah.

[Joel Foster]

Name: Joel Durden Foster
Will your character be an adult or a child?Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: Country, Shy, Gentleman, dancer, motivated, charming.
Sample of your RPing:

There was a soft, slow tune coming in short bursts from the cracked jute box in the corner. Some pathetic crooning tune about somebody inconsequential and their heart break. ”Don't even know what heart break is” He slurred to himself and anybody who was listening in on his personal dialogue. Slamming the dark glass of his beer bottle down on the bar top a little too hard and the foam started to bubble out of the top quickly. He was forced to lower his mouth back down to the neck of the bottle to slurp noisily to keep from spoiling any drop. He hated to waste anything, most of all alcohol. This would have been shaping up to be a fairly nice night, if it weren't for the flies that seemed to be incessantly buzzing around his head. By flies he meant women, and this group were particularly annoying. He had lost count of the hours a long time ago, he had been in here since it had opened this morning at least...if not earlier if that was even possible. “Please....for the love of all things holy, just leave me the hell alone” Not that he really believed in anything holy anymore. It was more of a figure of speech for him now. She was older, probably in her late forties, but her skin showed some excessive UV damage. She might have been a looker in her younger years, but the decades of smoking combined with habitual drinking had turned her face gaunt. Pair that with sagging skin stuffed into clothing that should have been more fitting for somebody no doubt her granddaughters age she wasn't the least bit appealing. Not to mention her little gaggle of groupies sitting in their booth against the wall were spouting off cat calls and encouragement to their more brazen friend. She had been attempting to buy him drinks, and to wedge herself between him and the bar for the better part of an hour. She didn't seem to be taking the hint, if this was all that this sorry town was able to offer then he was really in for a bad time. He was already the outsider and didn't want to have to prove himself. He just wanted to keep to himself, take care of his business and then just move on. He had only been here a day and a half and already it seemed more like they were just wanting to get inside of his business, put up camp and stay for a good long while.

“Come on good looking, just try me on for size” her weathered, boney old finger reached out to him, stroking down the length of the exposed flesh of his arm with her knuckle. It made him almost gag. She was crossing a line, so long as there had been music to listen to, and beer to be had he had been able to ignore her for the most part. She had been inching closer and closer for awhile now, obviously waiting for him to shove her away or leave. He might have been tempted to go to the bathroom if he didn't think that the old bat would have followed him and trapped him in the stall. Uncomfortable. Chugging down the last of his long neck he grimaced, a low hissing intake of breath resounded from between his teeth. He rose to his feet, his hand fluttering to the sore spot on his ribs as he did so. He towered over the obviously drunk girl. “Take your drunk ass back to the pit that you crawled out of...please” His teeth were grinding together out of pain, and attempting to will her out of existence at the same time. She really was barking up the wrong tree. If only she knew how wrong. Her face crumbled, and she started to spout off obscenities that could have made a sailor turn red with shame. She didn't seem to need to breath, and somehow managed to include lewd comments about herself and her 'hot body' into the same run on triad. He he tried to walk away, he tried to get out of the trap she had set for him, forcing him to keep an uncomfortable angle between her, the bar, and the stool that was welded to the ground. At he was contemplating his predicament, she hoisted her cheap margarita off of the counter and flung it into his face. All he could smell was drug store tequila and feel the bits of sludge dripping down his face. His jaw set, anger flooding up to his ears.

He lifted his fingers to his eyes, and swept off the excess liquid, flinging it out to either side of his body. Did she really just do what he thought that she had? He was offended for two reasons, one, because she had been the one to throw herself at him. Since he chose not to catch some sort of sexually transmitted disease from her, he was the jerk? Two, because she had wasted a perfectly good drink. It wasn't like he was strapped for cash exactly, but his secret stash of savings was starting to dwindle. He didn't spend money whenever he didn't have to and she was forcing him to empty his pockets faster than he had wanted to. He lifted an index finger to tell her off, or to physically remove her from his company. Then she punched him. Stupid broad had watched for his sign of weakness, and whenever she had finally gotten the point that he didn't want her company she had punched him in the ribs. His vision spun out of focus ever so slightly and he was forced to grasp onto the bar top for support. He was wheezing now, and that was a more miserable feeling than whenever he had gotten the wound in the first place. She turned and attempted to 'strut her stuff' back to her group of friends who were now calling him a jerk, a scumbag, and not good enough for her. Sometimes he really hated women. Bitch had to of cracked his already fractured ribs. He felt the need for a doctor, but knew he wouldn't be able explain how he had gotten the injuries. He was going to be out of commission for far longer than would be possible...or he was just going to have to risk it. He felt his eyes close for a moment as he recalled the injuries. Last night had been a whirlwind. His first lead in months and he had gotten away he had never seen the damned barbs coming. The damn thing had gotten the best of him. He had managed to just get out of the way in time, the barb had jutted out of her wrist so quickly...it had broken straight through his shirt and ripped away the flesh on his ribs. Luckily nothing serious had been punctured, and nothing was worse than bruising. It was his ego that was broken, which was better than his ribs by far. He wasn't used to this yet, to the hunting. Sure, he had shot his share of buck and brought home his fair share of fish with ease but this...this was something entirely different. He was still growing accustomed to how this all worked. The proper way to slay each thing was different. There was a feel to the way his arrow would leave it's notch, or the way his finger would itch just before he would pull back the trigger. His targets had never looked mostly human before .Nearly everything that he encountered now, looked human. The one he had been sparring with last night, looked no older than thirteen. He had had it on good authority that she was from the same 'group' as the bloodthirsty succubus that had been the last to know anything about his daughter. He felt like the path was growing colder and colder each and every day. He just wasn't used to the hurting. Deer hardly ever fought back. This girl had been spry, and learned of his lack of skill rather quickly.

The rest...was, just a blur. He still wasn't sure how he had managed to make it back to his motel room in one piece, or how he had managed to make it here at all. He assumed that his train of thought had been that drinking would dull the pain. Leaning over the counter, hand holding his ribcage gingerly, he grabbed a bottle of jack and told the bar keep to put it on her tab. Without second thought, he turned around and limped his way outside. He was really screwed now.

Important Word from Rules: -ACCEPTED
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? Google.

[ray]

Name: Ray McClellan
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult, Werewolf
Describe your character in seven words or less: Smart, attractive, extroverted, compassionate, generous, ‘garbage disposal’
Sample of your RPing:
The sun was high in the sky and the heat was radiating off of the grass. Ray couldn’t have thought of a better place to spend his day. He was lakeside, sprawled out in a wife beater and jean shorts, ray-bans blocking the sun from hurting his not-so-delicate eyes. It was the perfect day, at least until everyone else began to come out of hiding. It had been raining for the last three weeks and Ray was sure everyone in Austria had expected today to turn out the same as every day prior to it. He knew better, though. If there was sun, he took a chance on it. There had only been about five other people out by the lake besides him and with how big of a lake it was, he hardly noticed they were there. However, now that the sun was beginning to reach its peak in the sky, everyone was crawling out of the woodworks. As the foot traffic near his piece of real estate began to increase, Ray began to realize his time at this lake was nearing an end. He hated crowds, mostly because he wasn’t sure what to do in them, so when they began to form close to him, he left. Plain and simple.

Fortunately, Austria had plenty more locations to offer up. This wasn’t the only lake around and it certainly wasn’t going to be the busiest, but he was sure he could find one that matched the details he was looking for. It was just going to take a bit of searching. As a female came and took a seat near him, that became Ray’s queue. He immediately sat up and rose to his feet, brushing off the grass blades from the back of his shirt and shorts. The woman was obviously upset that he had moved so quickly when she had sat down but Ray was not taught when he was growing up to notice such things. His focus had been on school work and training, never the female counterpart. He guessed he had his father to blame for that. If his mother had her way, he would have never been single. She hated the thought of her boy growing up without a girlfriend. Luckily for him, his father had the reign of the castle. If it wasn’t on his homeschooling curriculum, it didn’t happen. That meant females. So with his lack of understanding of the other side of his race, Ray put his hands in his pockets and walked away from the muggle lakeside until he was out of view. Once clear from wandering eyes, he apparated to the next place he knew of where there might be some privacy.

Important Word from Rules: ACCEPTED
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? Proboards

[Sebastian Verhoeven]

Name:Sebastian Verhoeven
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: cold.
Sample of your RPing:

Today was perfect. There was a fine layer of snow on the ground, it was unmelting and sparkled like glitter. There was no wind, so the cold was just still. The air had the smell of pine needles, the kind of air that just felt good whenever one inhaled. The trees were still clinging to their blanket of snow. It had been this way all day long and Charlotte just couldn't keep herself indoors. She had the whole weekend off, but nothing to do. Which, was perfectly fine by her, she didn't need anything more than the company of those two furry faces who loved her so much and a great novel to cozy up to in order to be happy. Best thing about books were, they could be read anywhere. She hadn't taken enough time to really let her dogs burn off much energy. They got so terribly cooped up inside of the flat while she was at work, and a lot of the time she was so exhausted by the time that she got home at night she could hardly make it through their walk without falling asleep on her feet. She had been neglecting her pets, and it was unforgivable. Luckily for her, there was a park so close to her apartment building that it would be no issue at all taking the time to go there with them. Once she had dressed, and pulled on her coat, she had clipped their leather leashes onto their collars, packed enough things to make a day of it, and had been on her way. The second that they were outside, she could just see their little moods lift sky high. They were loving, but simple animals, they didn't need much to keep them happy. She had to practically run after them just to keep up, which was not easy to do in heels. It had taken some time in the snow to cover the distance, but by the time that they had reached the park, their canine energy hadn't diminished even a little.

She trusted them, enough that she didn't need to watch them every second of every day. They were well trained, and they loved her, they wouldn't run off. So, she had let go of their leashed and they had taken off while she had looked for a place to settle down. Eventually, she had settled on a bench and one she had charmed the snow off of it, was perfectly suited for what she was looking for. She had shifted the way that her cloak had covered her body to where she was sitting on it, and turned her gaze back to her dogs. Ripley and Bex were running about in circles, nipping at the heels of the other. Tiny frozen water particles clung to their golden fur as they rolled around and made playful yelping sounds. She couldn't stop from smiling, if only she could make herself as happy so easily as they were. Her hand wrapped around to the bag next to her, resting on top of her legs. In her purse was a sandwich wrapped in a napkin in case she were to get hungry, as well as two containers holding dog food and some bottled water. She wasn't certain how long she was going to be here, the bench was comfortable enough and she had a book that was good enough to sink into for hours if she so chose. She had been watching the two animals play, their leashed dragging around in the snow behind them, or taking turns walking each other. Her legs were curled up next to her, her dress sprawled out over her black tight clad flesh. She felt perfectly at home in the cold, and could almost feel the pallor of her skin lightening, turning more rosy with her growing state of happiness. Luckily, there weren't any other people around the section of playground that she had claimed as her own. Or else, they might just think that a pink skinned woman was very strange.

She extracted the book that she had chosen today, it was an old favorite, one that she had read so many times over that the binding was starting to fray and the pages had long since yellowed. She didn't open it, rather just held it in her hands, so that it was ready if she choose that she wanted something else to do, but for now she was more than happy to watch them play. So carefree, she wanted to feel like that just once in her life, she found that she was always over thinking things, having to do them for a purpose or wondering what was going to happen because of her actions. Heaving a sigh, she was just going to let herself pretend that she could share their joy, like there was a light shining from inside of her body.

Important Word from Rules: -accpted
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? Referred.

[Deleted]

Name: Diego Resendez

Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult

Describe your character in seven words or less: Selfish, Malicious, Dangerous, Rebellious, Lethal.

Sample of your RPing:

Important Word from Rules: -ACCEPTED
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? You guys know me.

[Deleted]

Name: Alina Camille Rocher
Will your character be an adult or a child? Adult
Describe your character in seven words or less: Cunning, quiet, intelligent, passionate, manipulative, well-mannered
Sample of your RPing:
The music roared in the countryside. It could be heard far away from the concert hall, and the lights shone brilliantly, dazzling as far as the eye could see. Whoever set up the rave knew what they were doing, and Lawrence was going to take full advantage. As Lawrence grew closer and closer to the music, he took more and more swigs of his bottle of brandy. Nothing like it in the world. The burn felt good, but the disappointment settled each time the burn faded down his esophagus. Nevertheless, He could feel his body getting warmer. As he walked and drank, he thought about the conversation he had with Georgia earlier that day. It was so different from what the dynamic they used to share. Now, things were boring. They talked about work. The government. The old days. Work. Work. The present times. Work.

The music pumped louder as the concert hall grew closer. It wouldn’t be too long before Lawrence could find himself immersed directly in the thrill of the night and forget about everything else for the moment; it was all he really wanted. Lawrence smirked. He coughed and began talking – or more like slurring loudly – to himself: “It’s been so damn long since I’ve done something fun. Something thrilling like this. It’s been so long that I’ve had any f*cking fun. I need to get out more. Do more. I need to do more things with my life. Life is short.” A girl in a short skirt passed by him and threw him a weird look. He laughed, and slurred louder: “My f*ckin’ job. My boss never lets me take off one damn day of work. I can’t even get another job.” The girl turned back towards him, increasing her walking speed. Lawrence scoffed; she was running like he was some kind of threat towards her. “Hey chickie!” he croaked, “Whatcha running so fast for? Concert’s not even halfway done yet!”
Important Word from Rules: -accepted
And just for our curiosity, how did you hear about us? Alum member

[Grace Patterson]

Name: Grace Amelia Patterson.
(Adult, Child, Werewolf, Vampire, etc?): Adult.
Sample of your RPing:
As Grace’s chest grew heavier and her tears begin to sting and dry her cheeks, she thought about the state she was in. The shock, the pain, the total loss for words, not understanding a single thing going on around her. It was an all too familiar feeling she had experienced far too many times in her life. Grace thought about the letter she wrote to Warren and Ash, the wait and disappointment from never receiving a response, the disastrous attack at the minister’s ball and finally, when she snapped and fled Galaxia immediately after graduation. Most of all, she thought about Ash. She could formulate the most clear pictures in her head… Ash holding Georgie, crying over her lifeless body. Ash laughing with Georgie on their wedding day. Ash smiling at her, loving her, showing a side of himself Grace had scarcely seen. She had missed so much… and to think, she had blamed him for so much.

Through tears, she saw the glistening tombstone again. There were no flowers anywhere, no rocks in her honor, and Grace grew even more sad. Who cared for her here? What was Ash doing right now? She could imagine that even after a year, the devastation still hit every morning. Though Grace had never been in a relationship where she slept with a man in the same bed, she could still imagine the pain of turning over and not seeing your lover beside you. It was obviously very different than the camping slumber parties her, Warren and Ash had together, but she knew that warmth of waking up to Warren’s closed eyes, with one arm wrapped protectively across her body. Grace imagined this purity, this innocence, in Georgie and Ash’s love and began to weep harder.

She heard some footsteps in the distance, but took no notice of them. Breathing was getting harder now. Her thoughts and memories only elevated her tears and made her wish she could do something, fix something. In her travels, she acquired this need to fix everyone’s lives, to help others, as her whole life had been spent being aided by those around her. Though she was grateful to those who helped her, she couldn’t believe what a ‘damsel in distress’ she had become. This realization came to her while she was waitressing in Bordeaux. Her French had greatly improved at this point; she distinctly remembered this moment. A regular, Monsieur Lucé, ordered his usual cappuccino with soy milk and a croque monsieur, with extra bacon. Grace had just written down his order and flashed her sweet smile when she realized what she was doing here. Working in this restaurant, covering shifts her poor boss couldn’t afford to take on because of her single-mom-of-two status, she was making a difference in her life. Her boss relied on her, trusted her to help her. To be there. In this realization, Grace knew that at the end of the year, she had to be there again for those that needed her most.

Her friends. Her family. How could she have left? Before this grave, this question became more cruel than ever. Could she have done something? She didn’t know Georgie well, but Grace kept thinking to herself, would have things been different if she was there… would something have turned out for the better?

Just as she was ready to collapse onto Georgie’s grave, she felt a pressure against both of her shoulders and then a head of blonde, tangled hair digging into her shoulder blade. She knew that hair, that warmth. Through her blurred tears she thought she saw someone before her, but she wasn’t focused on the present. Too delusional. Almost instinctively, she wrapped her own arms around the figure, clutching his muscular back and stroking the blonde head of hair. Grace knew this boy, no, no this man in her arms. How could she not? Her brother, her best friend, her true family. There was no one in the world who hugged her like Ashton did, no one who smelled just like he did. Grace didn’t say anything. Did anything really need to be said? They had both wronged each other in the past, she especially, and they would talk on it. For now, she could see that he needed to cry… Heck, she wasn’t done crying! He needed to cry because there was no one ready to cry with him, sit with him, and still see him as the beautiful, strong man he had grown to become.

Grace’s guilt captivated her body, inching through her arms and legs so that they shivered. She sniffled, pulling him closer and whispered his name. “Ash.” She choked on his name, trying to say it again. Perhaps words weren’t necessary, but they were necessary so he knew that she was wrong. Wrong to ever leave the three musketeers in the first place. “Ash.” She said more clearly. She couldn’t muster a ‘sorry’ or ‘forgive me’ or ‘I can’t believe I hurt you’, but in the back of mind, after the guilt and the sorrow, she knew that he understood.

He was here. She was here. Before Georgie’s grave. Safe. That was what was important.

Important Word from Rules: -accepted