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Messages - C. Jameson Montclaire

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Elsewhere Accepted / Cornell Jameson Montclaire
« on: 09/06/2012 at 06:52 »

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Cornell Jameson Montclaire
Gender: Manly Man.
Age: 43 - Born April 21, 1930.

Education:  
Hogwarts, Slytherin Class of '48.

Residence: 
In a lovely bachelor pad in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Occupation:
Daily Prophet Reporter/Columnist


Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (example St Mungo's, the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
Employee at the Daily Prophet, affiliate with the Order.

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 6.
  • Transfiguration: 10
  • Divination: 10.
  • Summoning: 6.
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason? 
No.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Maurus Gale, et al.

Special Phrase: Tibbles' Beard of Power

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Life, or at least, a life worth living, was something you had to secure for yourself.

That was something Jameson firmly believed.  Nothing was handed to you on a silver platter except the stuff you were born with: Skin, organs, and the like (C.J. had never had any problems with his, so he couldn't complain), parents (his were quite easy to deal with and incredibly supportive, although naïveté was, unfortunately for them, a decidedly un-Montclaire-ish trait), and probably a few other philosophical things C.J. didn't have time to think about.  After all, he had articles to write.

(Writing was simple, really. You start with something that happened in real life, or a thought, or anything, really.  Take that, then pick out the bits you don't like, perhaps filling in a minor detail here and there, and then making a big deal out of the bits you did like. It was like painting a picture.  Journalism was art, and Jameson was an artist.  It was a power most people failed to take stock of, the press, but one subtle tweak of a word could make a revolution.  Just ask Thomas Paine, after all.)

The rest of the stuff, you had to work for. A man was only as good as his career, and Jameson had, as far as he was concerned, the best.  (Again, the business about unseen power comes into play, and all that Jazz.)  And life was, unfortunately, all about the material things, nowadays. Jameson had the market cornered there, as well. An upscale, elegant house, an array of fine wines... Albeit most of it was at the expense of his naïve parents, the money was bound to become his, anyways. (One of the setbacks to having unnoticed power is, unfortunately, an unnoticed paycheck).

 But, above all, a man has to make a name for himself. Half of the work was done for Jameson Montclaire (C.J. among friends, Jameson everywhere else, but never Cornell unless in front of a judge), being the son of one of Britain's most prestigious families.  Beyond that, however, C.J. had become famous for his initials, which graced the bottom of every work of art (also known as news articles, in the Daily Prophet) he created.  C.J.M., they read, in his unique curly scrawl that always rested just so picturesque underneath the standard type of the paper.  That was where Jameson's heart lay; beneath the black and grey of the newspaper, even beyond wine-tasting, fine yachts, and expensive watches. 


ROLEPLAY
Reply as your character to the following:

It was impossible for Dianne to stay out of trouble. It wasn't that she was looking for trouble, it's just that trouble always managed to find her. Today she wished she could find something equally familiar but more comforting.

The five-year old girl hugged her puffskein closer to her and brushed her face in its soft fur for comfort. She had named him herself and he was always her special pet. No she was certain she had never gone down this side street before. Her anxiety increased every second as darkness fell as she walked down the road. A loud noise came to her left and she buried her face in her pet's fur completely. The scared girl bolted the opposite way slamming the both of them into the wall of the nearest building. Tottering back a few steps she found a door a few feet to her right and ran to open it. What light there was inside spilled out into the darkness and she spilled into the room.

Once in, she was caught between the impulse to curl her cloak up more tightly around her and loosen her grip on it. She wasn't alone anymore but she was now among strangers instead, which was nearly as terrifying. Her puffskein had recovered from the shock of the wall and now was purring contentedly as the girl hugged it, causing a mildly calming effect on the girl. Gathering her courage, she marched up to the nearest person, pulled on the nearest clothing hem and blurted out in a loud voice:

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home."

She paused to draw a breath in her nearly never-ending sentence, "He misses my and his mommy."

To explain the scared girl held up the custard-colored puffskein. Sambundeakin the puffskein, however simply purred as if nothing on earth was wrong in the world.

Roleplay Response:
Jameson needed quills. He always needed quills, of course - He could never seem to keep track of the ones he had, and there was the constant search to find the perfect quill. That was where he currently stood - At the counter, looking at a variety of quills, acutely inspecting the tips.

"Oh?" he said as he felt the tug on his coat.  He looked around to find the little girl underfoot, grabbing his suit.  He didn't really like children, they were needy and sticky and there was a reason he didn't own any.

"Excuse me," said Jameson, annoyed, "I'm busy."  He didn't even hear her annoying pleas for help.  "If you're lost, go speak to the nice lady at the desk.  She's trained for these sorts of things," he said.  "Or, at least, you should hope so."  He chuckled at his own little joke, and promptly went on ignoring the girl, hoping she went away, but ultimately forgetting about her.  




 
 

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