Post by noa on Jan 25, 2012 20:47:56 GMT
boyd carson abercrombie
THE SCARS OF YOUR LOVE
remind me of us - - - - - -[/center]
full name: boyd carson abercrombie
nicknames: "b", "b-boy", "brat" and "gingerboyd"
birthday: twelve, february, two thousand five.
age: twenty-five
house/school: gryffindor, hogwarts
alliance: order
blood status: halfblood
occupation: arithmancer (for hire)
face claim: hampus luck
WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL
[/size]rolling in the deep - - - - - -[/center]
likes: boyd happens to like strawberries, soft surfaces, dancing like a maniac, numbers, big airy rooms, chalkboards, confusing people, his family, cooking, tea, instruments, music (except country music), muggle vehicles, the color purple, and anomalies (he needs a challenge now and then).
dislikes: boyd happens to dislike being judged, equations that just don't want to work, people thinking he has all the answers, clutter, people drawing on his chalkboards, coffee, alcohol (mainly the taste, not the effect), smokers, cooking eggs, bright eye-hurting colors, discomfort, and silver lines (they mean business in the arithmancy world)
strengths: arithmancy, breaking the ice, and cooking.
weaknesses: explaining his findings, transfiguration, and looking presentable.
dementor: the death of his first animal, zoe the cat. boys had found her as a runt kitten, one that no one thought would make it, and cared for her as a mother would a sick child. zoe miraculously pulled through. This was great, until Boyd found her dead body in the backyard. Someone had accidentally let her out, and a neighborhood dog and ripped her to shreds. obviously, boyd was devastated. to him, it was like loosing a daughter and a best friend. he's never gotten over it.
patronus: boyd's patronus is a lynx (for his love of felines), and silly as it may sound, the memory that conjures it the best is the day his little sister came home from st. mungo's for the first time. he had been expecting to hate her, but two seconds after holding her, she reached up and to embrace his face. he had never been happier in his entire life then in that moment. he never thought ill of her again ... well, that is, until she could speak, then of course, siblings will be siblings. he still loves her crazy to death.
sexuality & relationship status: straight (from what he's aware of), currently single.
I HEARD ONE ON YOU
[/size]ill make your head burn - - -[/center]
father: euan abercrombie, 46, editor
mother: eliza abercrombie (nee burness), 45, healer
siblings: --- abercrombie, 23, hufflepuff.
others: his black and white cat, cleo.
overall history: the beginning of boyd's life is fairly simple. his parents were young lovers, and believing they were soul mates (which, turns out, they pretty much are) married and quickly had their first child, which was of course boyd. his mother stayed home to take care of him, and his father at the time was making his living as a high ranking journalist - mainly, all was well. boyd would be told stories before he went to bed by his father, and taught things like simple math and the wizarding world by his mother. it was easy. and soon, they were graced with boyd's younger sister (boyd was two at the time). of course at first boyd was afraid his parents would forget all about him, but he soon realized that as a healer, his mother knew how to juggle patients, so to speak. boyd and his darling little sister never really wanted for anything.
of course there are ups and downs to everything. once or twice boyd's father would lose his job, or just get to angry to work at one and their mother ended up having to work to pay the bills. this left boyd with taking care of things himself, as his father had no idea what to do. those moments in life taught them responsibility, also for boyd a love of cooking. his poor sister had some nasty stomach aches growing up from some of boyd's "great ideas of what would taste good". it was usually because the food was packed with sugar, not because it tasted bad. boyd had a natural gift there. and of course, as siblings do, boyd and his sister would sometimes get into some nasty arguments, many of which boyd refuses to re-account due to the pure ridiculousness of them. the only one he would talk about now is the one that happened when he got his hogwarts letter, and called his sister a snot nosed cry baby because she was crying at him leaving. he feels bad about that to this day. his sister didn't talk to him for months. he didn't blame her.
speaking of hogwarts, boyd enjoyed his time at the school immensely. as he was a gryffindor, like his father, he enjoyed having friendly people around all the time (even the occasional slytherin, unlike his father, boyd tried not to judge to easily) and made plenty of awkward situations for teachers to try and figure out ("no sir, i didn't mean to lock elise in the closet with a waltzing broom"). but his true love lay in two things while at hogwarts: excelling at arithmancy, and baffling the poor divination instructor. you see, due to his natural excellence in arithmancy (which was the noble art of figuring out the future in immense and complicated calculations), boyd plowed through divination without doing an ounce of work. everyone thought he was a great seer by the end of his N.E.W.T.'s, a recommendation that has so far served him well in his current job.
about that, boyd is an arithmancer for hire. he has many regulars - people who want him to punch numbers to figure out their love life or problems - as well as people from the ministry who need help with top secret information. he gets paid rather well. but this is all side stuff for boyd. his true love lies in helping the order. he doesn't go on all the missions, or endanger his life on regular occasion (though if someone were to ask he wouldn't say no to helping), but he does help by figuring out likely outcomes for them to minimize risk. and of course, he does this absolutely free of charge. he just wants everyone to be safe, and the world to be normal again. who doesn't?
YOUR GOING TO WISH
[/size]you had never met me - - - - - -[/center]
name/alias: noa!
gender: of the female persuasion
age: twenty-two (makes me want to read jacob two-two)
contact: my internet sucks for im's D:, pm please :)!
how you found us: i was slinking around caution. i think.
other characters: none yet! darns! there will be men!!
experience: erm. oh lord. over ten. i lost count a bit ago.
role play sample:It took quite a while for Auguste to be able to move freely around the ballroom. It was one of the problems with being prince, you see. If someone wanted to dance with you, you had to do it. If a man wished for your attention to talk of politics (which Auguste actually didn’t mind) you had to do it. If a drunken Madame Cherri had an urge to tell you how cute you were and pull on your cheek with a sweaty hand, you had to smile through it all and just deal with it. It was days like these where Auguste had a half a mind to just leave in mid party. He hated them anyways. He could stay in a pretty good mood throughout the beginning of the party, but after a bit, things just seemed to become… painful for him. For example, having to dance twice with an Edana that purely wasn’t interested, and then having to watch her have fun with every young man in the entire room was probably the most annoying thing Auguste ever had to deal with, however, it did remind him that he was going to talk to the Princess Catriona, Edana’s sister, about such things. Her lack of tact, as a first example.
However, he didn’t exactly know where to look. He knew for a fact she wasn’t on the dance floor, as he had been watching it for the last little while, but the room was so huge, the dance floor only took up a quarter of it. Really, she could be anywhere. He started a search. The right of the room would do for his purposes. He made his way there, and then realized it was thoroughly populated with the Danish. He didn’t mind the Danish, but he was having problems with their language. He had yet to learn it yet, and felt horrible for it. He had had as little speaking with the Danish as possible, through the English language, which they knew sort of, and of course, Auguste knew well. However, they had come to an agreement to allow Auguste to learn their language so he could talk to them freely, without issue, before they spoke of anything politics related, honestly, if he didn’t, negotiating with them later would be terribly difficult and awkward. And due to that, he certainly wasn’t about to go up to them and ask them if they had seen a particular Scottish Princess wandering around.
He made a near circle in a half around the room, avoiding awkward conversations by walking quickly in the other direction here and there, before he finally found her. Twenty minutes later. She was sitting, which was why his initial search didn’t see her – too short at that moment – and was seemingly laughing at something she found thoroughly amusing on the dance floor. Probably Tristan. Auguste knew he was in there somewhere. Couldn’t dance at all, but believed he could rival the Spanish and their Tango. Amusing really. Of course, she could be watching someone else. That’s just who Auguste would look for. He was about to make way towards him when a voice mangled in on his thoughts. “Your highness.” It had a sort of… deepness to it, and a scratch. Markus. He came to parties? Auguste turned and at the last second remembered to look high up at the man above him. “Not now Markus, I’m about to be rather busy.” It was rude, but really, Markus had always had a creepy factor about him. He was tall, seemingly suffering malnutrition, and had the deepest voice Auguste had ever seen. Oh, and even on such a night, wore complete black. Just plain terrifying. Auguste hoped he wouldn’t have to stay and speak to him. He was in luck, Markus bowed deeply, which kind of made Auguste have to take a small step back to not get hit. “I will speak to you about it later, then. It is urgent however.” Auguste shivered, and bowed back, thankful to get away. The Spanish: a pretty culture with sex and a bit of freak thrown in.
He came hesitantly upon Catriona, and appeared before her, as a sort of hope not to startle her. Someone had cared to mention to him a few days ago that his random coming up on people was not as useful as he thought, and really should stop that. He hoped he was being useful in appearing before a person instead of behind them. “Hello again, princess.” He bowed, as a he would to any other princess, and of course, speaking in his horridly accented Scottish. At least he got the language right. “Might I sit with you?” he waited for permission. To be presumptuous would most likely get him a smack. Or something like that. Antoine had said something about it before, honestly, Auguste couldn’t really remember what he said. He might want to start paying attention to that squirt at some point.
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