|
|
Post by raidenrosier on Sept 16, 2010 1:18:56 GMT -5
 __________________________________________________________{ A B O U T . Y O U }
Name: SKAR!
Gender: FEMME
Age: blankity blank blank
E-mail: you has
Twitter: blankity blank blank
Years of RPG Experience: idk
Other: brainz
__________________________________________________________
{ Q U I C K . Q U I Z }
How did you find us?
What about ISS inspired you to join?
Do you have any suggestions for us?
__________________________________________________________
{ A B O U T . T H E . C H A R A C T E R }
Name: Raiden Rosier
Age: Seventeen
Gender: Male
Year: Sixth
Face Claim: Paul Wesley
Canon or Original? Original canon. Does that make sense? No?
Facial Properties:
“There’s a story waiting to be told in Raiden Rosier’s face if someone has enough time to decipher it.”
I’m a guy and I don’t pull Donny’s shit. That should speak for and of itself. I’m not vain and I don’t care enough to be. What you’ve got is all you’ll ever have, whether you like to admit it or not. Then, there are idiots like Donny, who think that they can change the world with creams, lotions and bullshit. So, there’s that and then there’s me, who doesn’t really give two shits about it because…I don’t put any effort into it.
“I don’t think there’s anything soft in Raiden’s face. Then again, it’s appropriate, don’t you think?”
I’ve got a strong jaw, making it look like my teeth are always clenched. I know it gives off a hard image and that’s probably why a lot of people stay away, because it looks like I’m a ticking bomb, but honestly? That’s fine by me. As long as it keeps the time-wasters away, I’m perfectly okay with my square jaw. I think it’s the Oaks family trait in me. Anything else, though, it’s totally the Rosiers. Some say I look more like my third cousin Evan than I do my brothers, but who gives a shit? We’re all family in the end, so so what if my eyebrows are bushier than Donny’s and Dyon’s? I don’t care, which is why I think I ended up with them. Donny would’ve spazzed and then died if he had them. Well, not really, but you know, he would’ve cared more than me.
“The guy’s pretty intense so, logically, his eyes are too. I don’t even know what color they are, I can never meet his gaze.”
Brown.
Physique:
I work out because I like being alone, and working out means that I don’t necessarily have to be involved in an activity that requires more people. Therefore I would definitely be able to throw you in a bar fight, no wands. I dislike being at a disadvantage because it rarely, rarely happens, so I try to cover all my bases. You can never tell a guy he’s too prepared for whatever life throws at him. My stature is medium. I’ll never be as tall as Dyon and Merlin knows how mercilessly teased I get because of that, but I’m okay with it. I have broad shoulders and long legs…I don’t know, man, what am I supposed to say here? Talk about how much I love myself and how I could fuck myself because I look so good? No, thanks. I’ll leave that to Donny.
Wand Type:
10”
Demiguise hair core
Inflexible
Spiraled shaft
Elm and Alder hybrid
Elm: Elm is a tree associated with communication, and many born in this sign share a love of language. They are voracious readers, erudite and eloquent, with the ability to express themselves in both a vivid and witty manner. Elm people are natural communicators and others may find themselves captivated by their tales and anecdotes. Many are excellent speakers with a natural ability to entertain and encourage others. Sometimes, however, their sense of humor can be sarcastic or cutting and others may take offence. [source]
Alder: Psychologically, the Alder is uncomplicated and will usually express any opinion quite openly. […]Physical Goal: To be aware of the unique quality in self and in others. To keep eyes open in order to see the unusual and to acknowledge what is seen in another, if at all possible. Mental Goal: To utilize something that was previously overlooked. Oracular skills are not easy to acknowledge and the mind is sometimes unwilling to deal with the intuitive part. [source
Wand Expertise: Transfiguration (from the elm) and Protection Charms and Counter Curses (from the alder).
Patronus:
Vulture
Boggart: Donny and Dyon, dead.
Personality:
I’m not competitive. I believe there’s no point to that type of game. More so, when you know you’ll never lose. Up to this day, whenever I tried my hand at this silly charade, I always won. My opponent never mattered, because they all had the same weakness. Weakness that would have been mine also if it hadn’t been for the fact that I discovered said weakness and resolved to strengthen it. Thus, their failure. No, don’t confuse this with arrogance either. Face are fun because of that exact deal: they’re facts. They will never change, they will always be true and solid. That’s why I enjoy knowledge so much. It will always give you the upper hand. Ignorance is everybody else’s new best friend*. It just happens to be my enemy. It’s fitting for another aspect of my life too. There are some people that were born to be loved and adored by everyone; but I’m here to correct that and finally make it true. Some people were born to be loved and adored by almost everyone. Except for me. I tend to stay away from the types everybody fangirls over. Oh, you know exactly who I’m talking for, don’t try feigning obliviousness. The bubbly types, the happy ones, the ones that are always so nice and so open and receiving and caring. Yeah, those types. The people you think would never develop into something unpleasant turn out to be the real nasty ones. Don’t dare say no to that either, because I’m calling bullshit. They get big heads, even the humblest of them all. It’ll be unnoticed by the majority of the cherishing population because they’re too engrossed. I, on the other hand, loathe them. Or is that too strong a word for my strong indifference? Well, perhaps I don’t loathe them as people, but their attitudes. I loathe the self entitlement they posses, as if they were righteous in their entire life. I find myself lacking in the desire to associate with them time and time again as I am thrust into their presence. For they are inescapable if you plan on living in the real world, and alas, I am doomed to that fate. I do not respect them, because, in my eyes, there’s no merit in a person who can smile and have the entire universe smile back. There’s nothing praise-worthy behind it, but they think there is, thus, my non-interest.
Don’t place me near a person like that, because there won’t be anything except dead silence. I’m not the type who puts an effort into small talk just to be pleasant. Society’s norms can fuck themselves twice over when it comes to me—or my brothers. We come as a package, at any rate. We don’t adhere to a set of standards or styles of human and art*. Maybe Donny does to fashion—but that’s not my story to tell. If you are the type of person who’s social and chipper and oh, so popular, you’ll learn to stay the fuck away from me at an early time in your life, because I won’t be the one who makes your life pleasant and let the sun shine out of the crack of my—you get my drift? I don’t believe in talking unless there’s something important to say, and while a lot of the people in this world need, desperately, some kind of knowledge, I will not share it with them, because I’m not the sharing type. I’m selfish in a way that not many people will understand, but I will always justify. You work hard for what you’ve got*. Where would the fairness be if I let it go like that? Sure, life is unfair, but let me tell you this: you think Life’s bad? Try us. I don’t believe in bragging and I don’t believe in grand talk. You show what you know and what you are through your actions, no words involved. You don’t need them when you’re proving a point. Arguments will be deemed invalid if the person cannot back them up. The sport of arguing for the sake of arguing is lost in me. Actually, a lot of the social rituals of the nowadays leave me feeling disconcerted and irritable because I find no meaning behind them. Doing something just for the sake of doing is not something anyone should be proud of. If anything, it should be anything we should all shy away from. That’s the rotten core of all of our existence, isn’t it? To think we’re progressing by doing a lot of things that mean absolutely nothing. Instead of going forward, we’re taking three leaps backwards. I lost my faith in people a long time ago. We’re nowhere near perfect, flawed to the brink of atrocity and a lying generation. I would know. Deceiving people—as horrid as it is—is a subtle art. When I’m not feeling exaggeratedly poetic, I call it ‘the subtle art of bullshitting’. It’s true, though. You can let your imagination run wild, you can let it become a city, a country, a continent, a world, a universe, but if you pull the wrong thread, it will all unravel at your feet. For that and many other reasons it’s denominated subtle. The bullshit part should be rather obvious and you feel a desperate need to have it pinpointed to you, I’ll do it. Only because no one else will and I want to prove how stupid we can all be. Bullshit: to speak insincerely with a certain flair for the dramatics while trying to keep a straight face. Like me right now, for example.
Unlike Donny, I do not believe in what he calls a necessity. Romance is something reserved for the ones in need of a cheap thrill. Needless to say, I am not one of those people. Romance, liquor or coquetry are worthless. However, I will admit to one dire flaw: I’m into card games. Poker, blackjack, bullshit—you name it. I wouldn’t be into this entire business if it weren’t for Donny and his constant need of ass-saving. See, my older brother is idiotic. No, I do not say this as a way to ‘express my affection’, nor as an ‘endearing term’. He’s not the brightest wand in the shop and he continuously finds himself in situations that are not the most optimal. He’s gotten swindled too many times to count, even with me guarding over his movements. Sometimes you can’t cover all aspects of his life, but, I digress. It was during one of those times, where he’d lost a lot of money and needed it back in order to cover his tracks from mum that I came into the picture. Honestly, Donny’s good for nothing and then nothing when it comes to thinking and planning and being devious and clever in general, so he came to me. By now, Dyon was already out of the Hogwarts picture and I think Donny still has enough common sense to not turn into an actual crybaby and try to keep things as controlled and hushed as possible. Anyway, the point is that he somehow convinced me to help him win the money back. It was a very urgent situation and, as always, I find myself cajoled into awkward and unnecessary situations thanks to him, so it’s needless to say that I accepted. I knew the basics and logistics behind card games before Donny even mentioned them to me, because, I like to try things out at least once. Besides, being a guy with three two older brothers and not know how to play cards? Beyond lame. So, I went in and saved Donny’s skin. Believe you me, he did not deserve that saving, because those guys were dumb. There’s no other term to describe them. I would use idiotic, moronic and many others, but their level of intelligence didn’t reach that far. We all agree that in order to be qualified as stupid, your words and actions have to have a level of…something in your brain, yes? Well, these guys were severely lacking gray matter. It was like stealing a kid’s candy. Or to be less cliché: it was like getting Donny to shut up. Easy, necessary and so amusing. At some point, anyway. My winning got so bad that I was making plays for them before the night was over, just so I could have something to challenge myself with. I suppose you could say that after getting a taste of constantly winning galleons that have no strings attached to your family whatsoever, I got hooked. My one-time experience turned into several experiences until it was routine to sneak out Wednesday nights and bet my entire allowance—only to win it back threefold. But, that’s one of the few ‘experiments’ that has stuck with me after I’ve tried it. Smoking’s another one, but come on. With Donny lighting up around me like a fucking chimney, you get tired of being a passive victim of the damn smoke and turn into an active one. A very active one.
Speaking of experiments though, what does that tell you about me? I’m open to suggestions. The more you try, the more you know, the more you can ascertain. Nobody will be telling you lies or stories or wound up concoctions. You will know. This is what’s most precious to me in reality. When I believe in something, it’s non-negotiable. When I choose to believe in something I don’t do it blindly nor with puppy-dog adoration. Research, my friends. Give me proof, give me numbers, give me solid and then we’ll talk. If that makes me a skeptic, then so be it. Before you even get started, because I’ve had people try to preach before, no, I don’t live a miserable experience. As a matter of fact, I do believe I lead a more satisfying life than yours. Why? Because I never have doubts. Nobody can destroy the foundations of my entire thought system with a well-aimed interrogation. Can you say the same thing? Careful, though. This does not mean I have trust issues. I’m picky with what I believe. It’s different than not trusting anyone at all. I know trust. I experiment it daily with the losers I call family and with people who are worth my time. Granted those are scarce and far in-between, because, see, loyalty is a fickle thing. I know loyalty. I know it with Donny and Dyon, but everyone else? It’s negotiable. I have standards, so I won’t double cross you if there’s no real meaning behind it. I don’t do that sort of things just for fun. There’s an ultimate goal, a motive behind what I do when it comes to…toying? Would that be the appropriate expression? With other people’s minds or feelings or person in general. If you’re willing to associate yourself with me, there is a phrase you should be familiar with before you even come near me: quid pro quo. I’m not restless. I can be eternally patient in order to take what I believe is mine. I also have a fantastic memory, so you better think twice before wronging me, because there’s no telling what I’ll do. I’m not immediately violent like Donny, but Dyon’s a totally different brand of fucked up; which is why my version should be the perfect balance of these two, considering I’m the youngest one. I extract what I can work with and use it. I’m not impulsive and I’m not reckless. I think things through ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent is left for whenever my lips find themselves attached to a liquor bottle. When that happens, I recommend everyone to hide because I do not know what I am capable of. It all depends on the mood I find myself in. It’s like I’m a totally different person, which is why I try to stay away from it as much as possible. Being the youngest of four three, though…it’s not an easy task. I don’t stick around to face consequences. I’m patient and intelligent, so as a conclusion we can all deduct that I will never fall into the ‘stupid’ category. I’m no coward, so I’m able to face different types of situations, but sometimes it’s simply foolish to stick around to see end results. It’s as if you begged someone to AK you and then be surprised when they actually do. Sticking around for the consequences of your actions? Stupid. It’s about self-preservation. I’m not selfish per se, but I will always look out for myself before I look out for any other person who’s not blood related. Sentimental ties are useless when you need to move on in a certain direction, which is why I’m used to keeping the bare essentials with me at all times. Myself and my brothers. I don’t worry much about them—except maybe Donny now that Dyon’s gone—because as unexpected as they can prove to be, if they know how to do something, that’s handling themselves. These are my basics, learn to work with them and maybe I’ll be able to work with you.
Maybe.
Likes:
+ Corresponding via letters
+ Knowledge
+ Power
+ Run-on sentences
+ Upfront girls
+ Greece
+ Card games
+ Betting
+ Independence
+ Ravens
Dislikes:
– Note-passing during class
– Alcohol
– Small talk
– Owls
– Contradictions
– Muggles
– Rugs
– Jewelry on men
– Excessive noise
– Music
– Romance
– Travelling
History:
“Sure there’s bloodshed in the Rosier family. How could there not be? If there hadn’t been in the past, I’m sure people would find an excuse to slaughter them now, merely to justify how weird they all are.”
It’s not that they’re what you would call run of the mill weird—but the Rosier family has always had a reputation for being just a touch…eccentric. Oh, not the kinds of people who collect light bulbs or wear floral underwear—no. Their eccentrics run a little deeper than that. Their kind of eccentrics are the kind of weirdness that weirds all people out. When someone from that family walks into a room, you notice it. Not because of their imposing personality, or their dazzling charisma, but because the room falls silent. Don’t mistake it for respect either. It could be called a mixture between fear and the rejection of the unknown. People don’t understand the Rosier family and so, they reject it. The unknown will always be shunned and it’s a sociological fact clearly displayed in the Rosiers. They are not understand and it’s not because they’re complex or anything of the sort. People have never met anything quite like them. Their ways of thinking go beyond what they could be able to grasp and so, they remain. They’re not rejected. I don’t think they could be, because of all the history that comes to their names and mostly out of this fear too. They’re too afraid of the possible consequences if they were ever literally shunned. But it’s okay, because for centuries the Rosiers have known this and they are perfectly okay with it. The more people who stay away, the less chance of them ever uncovering a dirty, little secret of theirs.
See, the Rosier family is nothing if not secretive. You have your standard, little secrets that could also be catalogued as white lies and gray love and then you have the Rosiers. It’s enthralling, really, how they have their own sub-species in the pureblood habitat. They mingle, they dwell and they belong because of their blood. Other than that? Nothing else in common. There are some rare examples here and there, but even the ‘normal’ offspring from their side of the family have a touch for the wild, the ‘out there’. Combined with the Oaks’ blood? They were bound to be one of the wildest bunch. Never let it be said that they’re never up for some kind of experimenting though.
Dionne and Gallagher married young and happily. They do say ignorance is bliss, but in this case it’s not really ignorance when you choose ‘to not know’ something. They made a choice early in their marriage to turn a blind eye to everything that went down and keeps going down in the Rosier family history. You wouldn’t be able to blame them, really, because most of us would’ve done exactly the same after the repetitive and numerous deaths that kept popping out of nowhere—deaths that were strangely beneficial for this rich and old line of wizards. It has never been explained and as far as the entire world goes, it will never be, because they always turn up with dead ends. They’ve been under intense scrutiny for so long that it’s normal to run into Aurors whenever they go out. It’s tradition, as they jovially say. Dionne, fresh out of Hogwarts when she married to Gallagher knew she was in for the long run. Not because she loved him (though she did), but because she knew that when intertwining her bloodline with the Rosiers would ensure her powerful—or at least magical—offspring. The Oaks being purebloods themselves, had been worried about dying out. Their magical blood had seemed to be thinning out, with squibs turning up unexpectedly in arranged marriages now and then and the mixture with the Rosiers was one last, desperate attempt to save themselves. For wizards, being pure of blood and carrying on your line has to be one of the top priorities in their lives. The Oaks were no different from these clichés and they saw in Dionne and Gallagher’s relationship what had been lacking in others: hope. They say that when a couple is highly compatible, there will be sparks. In the wizarding world, this means literal sparks. Or at least it used to. This is a very, very rare occurrence that not many people will be able to witness in the span of one lifetime, but there has been accounts of people who claim they have, and it is with those testimonies that the romantics and the hopeful have survived. In the first kiss, there will be what muggles ignorantly denominate as electricity, but what wizards know as the encounter of two halves of a soul reuniting.
Don’t ask any of the Rosiers about it, because they don’t believe in it. This all comes from the Oaks. The wistful, romantic and sometimes air-headed Oaks who like to believe anything that will make things sound so much better. Dionne, despite being a witch with that blood running through her veins, turned out to be so much different. That’s probably why they placed their hopes in her. She broke the norm of the hazy-eyed lovers who thought everything could be fixed with the simple things. She broke the norm by making sacrifices a lot of people wouldn’t even think about and she married and had four children. All of them male. Needless to say, this pleased both families very much. Four wizards! So promising. The awe only grew when the four of them showed early signs of magic—and then it collapsed when Randall and Gallagher died.
Randall Rosier. Dionne had such a flair for strange-sounding names. He was loved, just like they all were. They were never a dysfunctional family in the sense that there was violence or even psychological games. As far as they were concerned, they were normal. Or their definition of normal, in any case. If that didn’t happen to coincide with everybody else’s definition, it was okay, because they were encased in their own ignoring bubble, where deaths couldn’t touch them, because they were invincible. Dyon, Randall, Donny and Raiden. They all had the one they would choose above the other to hang out with as it is typical in most families, but things have a tendency to change when it comes to drastic events. They all coincide that Randall’s death would qualify as a time for change. Not because of fear or anything else, but because of the fact that they were no longer four. Their comfortable number, their comfortable world, and their comfortable everything had shifted. It took them some time to be able to re-arrange themselves into a working ensemble once again and when that happened, there were no barriers. There were no preferences, no Raiden picking Donny or Dyon picking Raiden—they were them three. With two prominent figures in their family gone, the dynamic had to change. It wasn’t optional. They all took turns in being head of the house. Raiden perhaps didn’t get so much opportunities to prove his worth, but as time has passed these opportunities have increased, even if their roles haven’t. They’re all equally important; to each other and to themselves. It’s not about a competition—it never has been. They’re the Rosier brothers and to them, that’s all that matters.
Sample Post: Please look for Marlene McKinnon's, Sadie MacMillan's, Pierre Scham's or Ethan Cartier's (:
__________________________________________________________
{ C O N T R A C T }
I solemnly swear that I, SKAR, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.
|
|
