Welcome to Hogwarts School :: A Harry Potter RPG! It's 1964!

Author Topic: Gwenaël LeBlanc  (Read 261 times)

Gwenaël LeBlanc

    (06/10/2020 at 21:54)
  • **
  • Seventh Year
  • C9D7T11S9
  • Player of the Week Player of the Summer
    • View Profile
E L S E W H E R E  C H I L D

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.

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?

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.

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.

How did you find us? Google | TopSites | Recommendation | Facebook | Tumblr | Other Google

* Marina Lamont

    (09/10/2020 at 14:25)
  • **
  • Marine Magizoologist
  • C14D8T16S10
  • ['48-'49] Quidditch Champions Player of the Week
    • View Profile
I put my armour on, show you how strong I am
I put my armour on, I'll show you that I am
— I'm unstoppable