Post by becki on Jul 18, 2010 15:28:48 GMT
YOU SAY YOU WANT A REVOLUTION.
[/color]RAFE ALEKSANDER WULFE[/color]
YOU KNOW WE ALL WANT TO CHANGE THE WORLD.[/color] [/font]
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YOU SAY YOU'VE GOT A REAL SOLUTION.
[/color][/font][/center][/color]FULL NAME:
NICKNAMES:
AGE:
BIRTHDATE:
GENDER:
BLOOD TYPE:
AFFILATION:
SEXUALITY:
OCCUPATION:
HOUSE:
YOU SAY WANT TO CHANGE THE CONSTITUTION.
[/color][/font][/center]LIKES:
- The sea breeze
- Old books
- Smell of parchment
- Girls
- Sex, drugs, rock and roll
- Home cooked food
- Trouble, in small doses
- Laughing
- Having a big family
DISLIKES:
- Crying girls
- Bitchiness
- Stupidity
- The smell of banana's
- The moon
- People talking about him
- Being a werewolf
- The moon
- Not understanding something
- His parents
STRENGTHS:
- Intelligence
- Sarcasm
- Talking his way out of bad situations
- All things magic
- Loyal
- Friendly
WEAKNESSES:
- His friends
- His family
- A good book
AMORTENTIA:
- Old books and parchment
- the sea
- Firewood
BOGGART:
The moon. Oh how he hates it.
PATRONUS:
A ginger tabby cat
As a child he was frightened to make friends in case they discovered his dark secrets, he struggled with the fact each full moon he became a werewolf without anyone to be beside him. Until a ginger tabby cat adopted him. She stayed by his side through everything. He'd never forget her. She'd always sleep at the end of his bed, or by his head on his pillow. She'd lick his hand to wake him up in the mornings. Dig her claws in when she wanted his attention. They were inseperable.
MIRROR OF THE ERISED:
To live a normal life. Grow old, have a family - a beautiful wife and children. To be normal.
[/color][/size]
Find a cure.
WE ALL WANT TO CHANGE YOUR HEAD.
[/color][/font][/center]FINANCIAL STATUS:
NATIONALITY:
BIRTHPLACE:
CURRENT RESIDENCE:
PARENTS:
SIBLINGS:
IMPORTANT RELATIVES:
OTHER HALF:
OVERALL HISTORY:
DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.
[/color][/font][/CENTER]OOC NAME: Becki.
AGE: 19 1/2
EXPERIENCE: About 5 years.
OTHER CHARACTERS: Vasily Viktor Krum.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
Being a Slytherin means arrogance comes in bucket fulls - being a Bulgarian means he's completely open about it. Seriously, if you haven't realised he's arrogant and sarcastic yet, you're about to find out. It wasn't that he intended to be rude - well, not all the time anyway. It was just his nature, blame it on the Bulgarian blood if you must. But even then people were drawn to him, they always had been. Somewhere deep in his heart Vasily Krum knew he was destined for something big - he just hadn't decided what it was yet. He was something of a novelty within the Slytherin common room - the girls fawned over him and the boys, jealous of the incessant praise and talk of his famous father, sat in groups mocking him, laughing and prancing around the room pretending to be him. That all stopped when Vasily sent a particularly nasty curse at one of the uglier male 6th years.
Coming from a rich family caused a great respect for expensive things, you'd never see him in anything less than the seasons hottest labels after all, he had a reputation to protect. But this didn't mean he didn't enjoy the simpler things in life. See, Vasily is an outstanding quidditch player, this i can guarantee is because of his genes. His father and sister would strongly agree that there is no sensation that comes close to the one you get when you win a match. His skills as a wizard were stronger than most, and a particular curse sent in your direction could cause you incredible pain.
Now don't get me wrong Vasily enjoys many things - they just aren't mentionable at this time. Coming from a Bulgarian rich family meant he carried round with him a strong Bulgarian accent. It diminished over his time at Hogwarts but just a month back in the arms of his home country meant he returned to Hogwarts barely understandable. There really is no mistaking his heritage and if you fail to notice it - which I'm sure you won't, Vasily will remind you on many occasion that he's not English.
Being a ladies man meant that he was often watching his back. It wasn't his fault that girls fawned over him - and if they had a boyfriend, that was their own fault, it had nothing to do with him. It's not like he asked them to drool when he walked by. Smooth talking was one of his strong points - although his accent sometimes does hold him back.
Sleeping-in was a privilege more than anything - a rare privilege.
Opportunities to laze around in bed all morning were few and far between, both at home and in the dorms. There was always a constant nagging at the back of Vasily’s mind, a little voice reminding him that there was always something to be done – lessons, quidditch practice, meeting another girl. Spare moments where he could just exist often passed in a haze; like daydreams or déjà vu. Vasily was never aware of them until they’d been and gone.
His mates had a saying for it, "No rest for the wicked," they’d chuckle, but Vasily never laughed. He knew it was just a figure of speech, a joke even, but it bothered him. It didn’t really apply to him did it? He didn’t think he was particularly wicked, at least no more so than what was expected of someone his age and in the noble house of Slytherin, so surely it all meant that he was being robbed of a pleasure that he rightly deserved.
Well. He wasn’t robbed of it completely.
Vasily couldn’t always complain - especially not on mornings such as this one.
Lazy, languid mornings where he woke up entangled in pale limbs and silk sheets; mornings where everything was dressed in a dusky-blue light; mornings where the world existed between four bed posts that weren’t his own.
Mornings with a girl who's name he could barely remember were easily the best kind of mornings that could ever be and there was absolutely nothing that would change Vasily’s mind; though they happened far too sporadically in his opinion. She was still fast asleep; her head nestled comfortably on Vasily’s chest, an arm slung casually over his waist. Her body fit snugly alongside his, her skin hot and flush against his own. Vasily had been surprised, the first time he touched her. From the very first moment he’d set eyes on her, he’d expected her to be cold. He’d expected ice and frost and glaciers, like her eyes. He’d expected rippling winter and intense blizzards, not a heat wave. But that was what he’d found. That’s what he always found.
The girl, in short was a mystery. He knew little about her - he struggled to remember her name. At times she'd said the wrong things but Vasily had politely ignored them, after all in this game it really was all left down to chance. Being polite and gentlemanly led to these lazy mornings in bed - and if this was his reward it was a mere sacrifice to make, The important matter, though, was that beneath it all, Vasily was just being Vasily. That was something a lot of people just didn’t understand. They didn’t really bother to, but when Vasily thought about it, he always had been quite cautious about whom he let get close enough to even try.
Judging by the light streaming through the gap in the drapes, it wasn’t too early. Sometime around nine am, Vasily guessed. He'd forgotten what day it was - this possibly leading to his downfall.
She stirred against him and he looked down at her. She was dreaming, now, Vasily could tell; her eyes were darting back and forth behind her eyelids, her brow slightly furrowed. Consciousness wasn’t far off. She’d wake soon and then the perfect moment would be lost forever. He always did prefer it when they were sleeping. They’d possibly flirt a bit, and banter, she'd try to cling to the final fibres of the little world they'd created under the bed sheets before reluctantly making a return to reality.
Procrastination would be his downfall one of these days, Vasily was convinced of that. Flirting and banter was one thing, but when his hands and mouth entered the equation, they crossed over into dangerous territory. He wasn't beyond pushing his luck, that much was certain.
RING.
Vasily sat up, knocking the delicately pretty girl from his chest. She grunted loudly and cracked open her eyes. Remembering the night before a seductive smile began to creep across her face. She opened her mouth to bid him good morning, propping herself up on her elbow, but he beat her to it. Sprinting out of bed he began to ram his legs back into his trousers.
"Where are you going?" She called lazily her eyes narrowing in eagerness, "I haven't finished with you yet!"
His eyes narrowed in annoyance, "Did you not just hear the bell, Vot day is it?" His voice was full of demands and arrogance. He pushed his arms through the sleeves of his crumpled shirt and began to hastily do up his buttons. Placing his feet in his polished black shoes he waited for her to answer. He eye's followed her as she began to role around among her bed sheets, "Oh i don't know" She grinned wickedly, "Friday i think." She turned to face him expecting to see relief but her face fell. Grabbing his tie from the back of a chair and throwing his school bag over his shoulder he turned and fled the room. She sat bolt up right and flung her pillow at his retreating back,
"Where are you going?" She shouted after him. "Get dressed" He called back slowing now to wrap his tie around his neck. "Lessons have begun."
How he managed to reach his Charms lesson in time he'll never know. Looking a little worse for wear he slowed as he reached the heavy wooden door. Taking a glance at himself in the shiny metal of a near suit of armour he ran his hands through his hair. Tucking in his shirt he slumped into the class and took his seat. He knew as soon as his neighbour noticed his dishevelled appearance they would not stop until she hand every little detail.
'and the lion ate the lamb, end of story'.
Coming from a rich family caused a great respect for expensive things, you'd never see him in anything less than the seasons hottest labels after all, he had a reputation to protect. But this didn't mean he didn't enjoy the simpler things in life. See, Vasily is an outstanding quidditch player, this i can guarantee is because of his genes. His father and sister would strongly agree that there is no sensation that comes close to the one you get when you win a match. His skills as a wizard were stronger than most, and a particular curse sent in your direction could cause you incredible pain.
Now don't get me wrong Vasily enjoys many things - they just aren't mentionable at this time. Coming from a Bulgarian rich family meant he carried round with him a strong Bulgarian accent. It diminished over his time at Hogwarts but just a month back in the arms of his home country meant he returned to Hogwarts barely understandable. There really is no mistaking his heritage and if you fail to notice it - which I'm sure you won't, Vasily will remind you on many occasion that he's not English.
Being a ladies man meant that he was often watching his back. It wasn't his fault that girls fawned over him - and if they had a boyfriend, that was their own fault, it had nothing to do with him. It's not like he asked them to drool when he walked by. Smooth talking was one of his strong points - although his accent sometimes does hold him back.
Sleeping-in was a privilege more than anything - a rare privilege.
Opportunities to laze around in bed all morning were few and far between, both at home and in the dorms. There was always a constant nagging at the back of Vasily’s mind, a little voice reminding him that there was always something to be done – lessons, quidditch practice, meeting another girl. Spare moments where he could just exist often passed in a haze; like daydreams or déjà vu. Vasily was never aware of them until they’d been and gone.
His mates had a saying for it, "No rest for the wicked," they’d chuckle, but Vasily never laughed. He knew it was just a figure of speech, a joke even, but it bothered him. It didn’t really apply to him did it? He didn’t think he was particularly wicked, at least no more so than what was expected of someone his age and in the noble house of Slytherin, so surely it all meant that he was being robbed of a pleasure that he rightly deserved.
Well. He wasn’t robbed of it completely.
Vasily couldn’t always complain - especially not on mornings such as this one.
Lazy, languid mornings where he woke up entangled in pale limbs and silk sheets; mornings where everything was dressed in a dusky-blue light; mornings where the world existed between four bed posts that weren’t his own.
Mornings with a girl who's name he could barely remember were easily the best kind of mornings that could ever be and there was absolutely nothing that would change Vasily’s mind; though they happened far too sporadically in his opinion. She was still fast asleep; her head nestled comfortably on Vasily’s chest, an arm slung casually over his waist. Her body fit snugly alongside his, her skin hot and flush against his own. Vasily had been surprised, the first time he touched her. From the very first moment he’d set eyes on her, he’d expected her to be cold. He’d expected ice and frost and glaciers, like her eyes. He’d expected rippling winter and intense blizzards, not a heat wave. But that was what he’d found. That’s what he always found.
The girl, in short was a mystery. He knew little about her - he struggled to remember her name. At times she'd said the wrong things but Vasily had politely ignored them, after all in this game it really was all left down to chance. Being polite and gentlemanly led to these lazy mornings in bed - and if this was his reward it was a mere sacrifice to make, The important matter, though, was that beneath it all, Vasily was just being Vasily. That was something a lot of people just didn’t understand. They didn’t really bother to, but when Vasily thought about it, he always had been quite cautious about whom he let get close enough to even try.
Judging by the light streaming through the gap in the drapes, it wasn’t too early. Sometime around nine am, Vasily guessed. He'd forgotten what day it was - this possibly leading to his downfall.
She stirred against him and he looked down at her. She was dreaming, now, Vasily could tell; her eyes were darting back and forth behind her eyelids, her brow slightly furrowed. Consciousness wasn’t far off. She’d wake soon and then the perfect moment would be lost forever. He always did prefer it when they were sleeping. They’d possibly flirt a bit, and banter, she'd try to cling to the final fibres of the little world they'd created under the bed sheets before reluctantly making a return to reality.
Procrastination would be his downfall one of these days, Vasily was convinced of that. Flirting and banter was one thing, but when his hands and mouth entered the equation, they crossed over into dangerous territory. He wasn't beyond pushing his luck, that much was certain.
RING.
Vasily sat up, knocking the delicately pretty girl from his chest. She grunted loudly and cracked open her eyes. Remembering the night before a seductive smile began to creep across her face. She opened her mouth to bid him good morning, propping herself up on her elbow, but he beat her to it. Sprinting out of bed he began to ram his legs back into his trousers.
"Where are you going?" She called lazily her eyes narrowing in eagerness, "I haven't finished with you yet!"
His eyes narrowed in annoyance, "Did you not just hear the bell, Vot day is it?" His voice was full of demands and arrogance. He pushed his arms through the sleeves of his crumpled shirt and began to hastily do up his buttons. Placing his feet in his polished black shoes he waited for her to answer. He eye's followed her as she began to role around among her bed sheets, "Oh i don't know" She grinned wickedly, "Friday i think." She turned to face him expecting to see relief but her face fell. Grabbing his tie from the back of a chair and throwing his school bag over his shoulder he turned and fled the room. She sat bolt up right and flung her pillow at his retreating back,
"Where are you going?" She shouted after him. "Get dressed" He called back slowing now to wrap his tie around his neck. "Lessons have begun."
How he managed to reach his Charms lesson in time he'll never know. Looking a little worse for wear he slowed as he reached the heavy wooden door. Taking a glance at himself in the shiny metal of a near suit of armour he ran his hands through his hair. Tucking in his shirt he slumped into the class and took his seat. He knew as soon as his neighbour noticed his dishevelled appearance they would not stop until she hand every little detail.
'and the lion ate the lamb, end of story'.
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[/color][/CENTER] 