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Archived Applications / Gwenaël LeBlanc
« on: 03/12/2020 at 08:01 »




Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name:
Gwenaël LeBlanc

Birthday:
6th Jan, 1946

Hometown:
His parents chateaux is located near Les Molliets

Bloodline:
Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one):
Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination

Year (pick two):
Fifth Year (first choice) Sixth Year(second)

Biography:
Gwenaël was born in the south of France on the 6th of January 1946 to Sylvain and Céline. His parents were not only pureblood, but old blood, members of a fading aristocracy (although no less rich for it).

As such Gwenaël was kept much apart from his peers for most of his upbringing, his mother vetting his visitors and friends to make sure her son's social circle only included those of appropriate standing.

When alone, which was most of the time, Gwenaël was kept to a rigorous time table of tutors and instructors who educated him in a wide variety of topics; from English rhetoric and Latin to ballroom and traditional dancing, from etiquette to astrology.

While it pained his mother to send him, it was decided that, at 11, Gwenaël should attend Beauxbaton Academy.
This transition turned out to be just as painful for Gwenaël as it was for his mother; he found his classmates rude and boisterous and the lessons easy and dull. He made few friends but stayed until the end of his second year when his mother's nerve gave out and she pulled him out of school in favour of educating him herself.

For a few years, Gwenaël's father was happy to let this arrangement go on. However, as his son grew older and cleverer he became concerned that his wife's overprotective nature might stunt his growth. Important milestones began looming in Gwenaël's future, exams that might reach far into his adult life. So it was decided Gwenaël could be sent away, to where he could learn independence and, although Sylvain didn't say as much to his son, get a healthy reality check. For while his son was certainly intelligent his natural talent had made him lazy, while he was handsome, he wasted a lot of time on his vanity and while he had a healthy sense of pride it was growing fast into conceit.

So it was that Gwenaël was sent with his au pair to England, to improve his language and attitude and, hopefully, achieve a respectable set of O.W.Ls.

For his part, Gwenaël wasn't interested in visiting England, and while he cared nothing for leaving his friends and family behind, just the thought of attending school once more made him break out in hives. Still, it wasn't worth arguing with his father when Gwenaël wanted, above all else, do as he pleased with as little grief as possible.

For the past 9 months Gwenaël has been living in Hogsmead with an au pair to improve his English. It has taught him a few things; English (of course), patience(at least in his opnion) and that he really hates England.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request:
Ravenclaw(preference) or Slytherin. Anything but Hufflepuff.

Personality:
It is difficult for the untrained eye to see the difference between Gwenaël’s good and bad days. Always wearing a hard mask of manners to hide his true feelings. Although Gwenaël’s feelings are rarely positive, with a prideful attitude and an unmatched vanity Gwenaël has more bad days than good because his patience is so easily run thin.

Gwenaël thinks that only brutes battle with wands, he battles with wits. As such he can often be found reading, enjoying theoretical pursuits (transfiguration, astrology, history, pianoforte, languages), and hates doing things that involve getting dirty. Herbology is his mortal enemy and Care of Magical Creatures is a close second.

Though naturally clever Gwenaël is lazy. Though quite attractive he is incredibly vain. Though he has self-confidence it is more akin to arrogance. His greatest wish is to have an easy life; read his books, play the piano, exchange witty repartee with his peers and flutter the heart of a lady or two or five.

Appearance:
Gwenaël did very well in the biological lottery; he is quite handsome.

Tall for his age Gwenaël stands at 5”11 and is still growing, his physique is taut from swimming in mountain lakes (although nothing else). He has pale skin, taking care not to get too tan, and his fingers and limbs are long and slender. Trained in classical dance all his movements are graceful and poised.

Facially Gwenaël is most akin to an ice sculpture; all the lines of his face are crisply chiselled. His cheeks are hollow, his brow is sharp and his lips form a perfect cupids bow. Gwenaël’s eyes are an odd shade of pale grey.

Gwenaël’s hair is his pride and joy, reaching down to his hips in a long silver waterfall. Gwenaël spends a lot of time maintaining it, he usually leaves it down but can be seen with it braided or decorated with ornaments. Those that get close enough will note his locks are infused with the smell of honeysuckle (this process takes some time behind the scenes).

Fashion is a passion of Gwenaël’s. Although, while he revers modern and high fashion his own way of dressing is significantly more unusual. Admiring the clothes of old Gwenaël opts to dress in clothes from the regency period, as it tickles his romantic sensibilities. This includes, but is not limited to, cravats, waistcoats, tailcoats, buckled boots and top hats (although he draws the line at stockings, preferring modern trousers) Black is the predominant colour (as it’s very slimming).

All that said there is a, somewhat, androgynous air about Gwenaël. One would assume this doesn’t both him as he has no problem wearing jewellery and makeup.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.



Option 2:

That rat of his was in for it now.

The gray little rascal had disappeared from his clutches at breakfast. Again.

Before Hugh even knew what was happening, Merlin had shot across the floor, somehow managing to avoid all the feet walking across the hall and had escaped through the open doors.

Which meant that Hugh was now stomping through rows of flowers and other various flora, searching for the small creature. It was like the rat knew Hugh was allergic to most flowers. Merlin always chose to run to the gardens whenever he got away from Hugh. It was as if the rat did not want to have him for an owner.

Hugh had named his pet Merlin because he had hoped the powerful name would give the rat more incentive to be more than a rat. Not that he expected Merlin to change into a wizard or anything, but rats were just so...useless, for the most part. With a name like Merlin, Hugh thought it might give the rat purpose.

The only purpose Merlin seemed to have was getting away from Hugh as often as possible.

As the fifth year trudged into the second row of flowers, not taking much care to avoid trampling the first row, he felt the first sneeze building up pressure in his nose and behind his eyes.

"You blasted rat! Where are you?"

He pulled apart a section of bright red flowers; he didn't know what they were called because he despised flowers, and ducked his head low to peer into the depths of the flowerbed. It was moving closer in proximity to the flowers that finally did it. Hugh took in three great breaths and then let out an almighty sneeze. It was strong enough to disturb some of the dirt on the ground before him.

Groaning, he stood up again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It was as he was turning his head, his nose running up and down his arm, that movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Normally one who preferred to put his best face forward, Hugh was a bit embarrassed to be caught wiping his runny nose on his robes.

Nevertheless, Hugh put on his best haughty voice. albeit a bit thickly with his plugged nose and said, "Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."


It was a fabulous summer’s morning, and Gwenaël was determined that it not be ruined by a horde of children screaming over breakfast. He had declined any implied invitation to join the house table and had simply grabbed an apple and retired to the veranda.

Out here he could barely hear the racket in the great hall, and it soothed his ire (why did he have ire, one might ask? Gwenaël always seemed to at Hogwarts. It stemmed, he thought, from trying to hold his tongue around so many utter idiots). Gloriously empty benches lined the stone wall, facing beds of crimson hibiscus and yellow dahlias. They were, of course, only common flowers, Gwenaël’s taste leaned much closer to roses and lilies. But they were better than no flowers at all, and closing his eyes and breathing in their soft scent was just as calming as if he had done it in a rose garden.

Gwenaël retrieved a book from his bag, a History of Goblin Literature, and opened it at his bookmark. He sat reading happily, taking an occasional bite of his apple until the disturbance appeared.

The boy crashed through the doors with all the grace and subtlety of a stampede of wildebeest with bells tied to their legs. Gwenaël did his best to ignore him. Furrowing his brow, he directed his glare at his book.

But with all the crashing and smashing and stamping it was impossible to take in a word.

Gwenaël looked up again, in time to see the boy trample his beautiful dahlias, and winced.

Then, in front of his very eyes the boy let out an ungodly sneeze and, Gwenaël physically shuddered, began to wipe his nose on his sleeve – practically sawing his face up and down.

Usually, Gwenaël hid his emotions but it had been a long time since he had been so utterly disgusted by a single display. His stomach physical roiled in rejection of the sight before him and he stared with a dumbly open mouth at the boy, pig, was perhaps a better word, trampling the flower patch.

At last, the boy caught sight of him. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Gwenaël managed to shut his open mouth and say, in as measured a tone as he could given the circumstances, “I don’t think you’re in a position to be lecturing anybody on manners,”

He considered adding a ‘Sir’ to the end of his sentence, Gwenaël usually addressed people with honorifics. But the boy was not worthy of the title. Better to keep his mouth shut.


→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous):
Colin Blythe? (awaiting approval)

2
Elsewhere Accepted / Gwenaël LeBlanc
« on: 06/10/2020 at 21:54 »
E L S E W H E R E  C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Gwenaël LeBlanc

Gender: Male

Age: 15

Bloodline: Pureblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?):
His parents are Sylvain and Céline LeBlanc, neither are played characters.

Residence:
Type your response here - where does your character live?
Gwenaël lives with his parents in their chateaux in the mountains that straddle the border between Austria and France. However, he is currently staying in lodgings in Hogsmead to help improve his English more before he starts his first term at Hogwarts.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Hopefully, Gwenaël will apply to Hogwarts in December

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:
Gwenaël is my first character here

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Gwenaël was born in the south of France on the 6th of January 1946 to Sylvain and Céline. His parents were not only pureblood, but old blood, members of a fading aristocracy (although no less rich for it).

As such Gwenaël was kept much apart from his peers for most of his upbringing, his mother vetting his visitors and friends to make sure her son's social circle only included those of appropriate standing.

When alone, which was most of the time, Gwenaël was kept to a rigorous time table of tutors and instructors who educated him in a wide variety of topics; from English rhetoric and Latin to ballroom and traditional dancing, from etiquette to astrology.

While it pained his mother to send him, it was decided that, at 11, Gwenaël should attend Beauxbaton Academy.
This transition turned out to be just as painful for Gwenaël as it was for his mother; he found his classmates rude and boisterous and the lessons easy and dull. He made few friends but stayed until the end of his second year when his mother's nerve gave out and she pulled him out of school in favour of educating him herself.

For a few years, Gwenaël's father was happy to let this arrangement go on. However, as his son grew older and cleverer he became concerned that his wife's overprotective nature might stunt his growth. Important milestones began looming in Gwenaël's future, exams that might reach far into his adult life. So it was decided Gwenaël could be sent away, to where he could learn independence and, although Sylvain didn't say as much to his son, get a healthy reality check. For while his son was certainly intelligent his natural talent had made him lazy, while he was handsome, he wasted a lot of time on his vanity and while he had a healthy sense of pride it was growing fast into conceit.

So it was that Gwenaël was sent with his au pair to England, to improve his language and attitude and, hopefully, achieve a respectable set of O.W.Ls.

For his part, Gwenaël wasn't interested in visiting England, and while he cared nothing for leaving his friends and family behind, just the thought of attending school once more made him break out in hives. Still, it wasn't worth arguing with his father when Gwenaël wanted, above all else, do as he pleased with as little grief as possible.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby. "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
Gwenaël LeBlanc shut his eyes for a moment, wishing away the headache that was beginning to plague him. All he had wished to do was take a turn in the park, and enjoy the last of the brisk autumn sun. A little peace, a little quiet, a little break from his au pair who wouldn’t know a dessert from a fish fork if he were to use one of each to impale her eyeballs.
But no, the place was overrun with squalling children, loud Quidditch players and nosey busy bodies, who peered about the park from noise to noise, with nothing better to do with their time. It reminded him, with a shudder, of school.
Gwenaël shut his book, crossed one ankle over the other and leaned back, spreading his arms over the bench, not so much to stretch as to prevent any over zealous strangers from sitting themselves down.
Oh, how he missed France. In his mind he compared the bench he now sat on to the bench in his garden at home. Gwenaël was no snob; it’s not that he needed complete privacy and solitude, there was usually a servant and a gardener or two near his bench at home, but they were quiet and when they did speak they spoke French! What an ugly language English was, and the way everyone shouted it at one another in harsh accents, it was enough to make Gwenaël’s ears bleed.
“You!” Gwenaël looked up, affronted to see it was he who was the subject of the demand, “Do you want to play?”
Gwenaël appraised the little girl, and the sad stick of a broom by her side. It was one of those toys, with height restrictions for very young children. He himself had never had one, as soon as he’d been old enough, he’d been taught to fly properly. Not that Gwenaël  would have hankered for such a toy even if he had been denied it; flying and Quidditch had always struck him as rather boring and pointless.
“I’m afraid I don’t know any games ma petitie fille,” Gwenaël said, making a shooing motion, then changing his mind, “But you are welcome to sit and read of you care to,”
His au pair was always nagging him to be charitable with his time, well he couldn’t think of anything more charitable than helping a, he assumed illiterate, little girl learn how to read French.


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