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Messages - Gilroy Locke

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Archived Applications / Gilroy Locke
« on: 03/08/2018 at 03:40 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Gilroy Locke

Birthday: August 18th, 1938

Hometown: Ramsey, Isle of Man

Bloodline:
Unknown

Magical Strength (pick one):
Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination

Year (pick two):
Sixth Year (preferred), Seventh

Biography:
Gil's early life could be summed up easily by one word: muddy. Mostly in the fact that it can be difficult to piece together, his unwillingness to share the gritty bits, and by the fact that most of his youth he had spent caked in it. Sometimes by choice, other times by lack thereof.

Orphaned at an early age, Gil only had fleeting memories of his actual parents, but of what he could piece together after years of hunting down information - he has found himself no longer caring a single lick for them by the time he had turned ten. They had abandoned him, but whether it was by design or from some misfortune due to the war, he realized that they weren’t going to come back.

Of course, that fact had been a boiling point of his with the neighborhood kids who’d prod him about it, the cause of most of the trouble that he had a knack for getting swept up in. It led to the orphanage he had been a part of to become somewhat of a revolving door, as Gil always found himself back to it in the end. At least when he hadn’t ended up prowling on the streets.

Home after home that he had been placed with had always been temporary, even when the people that gave him a home seemed like good people. It wasn’t their fault, really. Not always. Gil just never felt like he fit at any of them. Like a jigsaw piece with all the wrong sides. So he’d find a way out, one way or another.

(The good homes were always the worst. Sure, the people in them treated him nice, but he could never tell what their angle was. Were they being generally nice? Or just trying to save face. To win some hidden respect in the eyes of whatever Gods they believed in?)

When he got his letter, however, he found himself a new place to try and fit in. It was short-lived of course, as just when he was carving out his own niche, he found himself shipped off to yet another new home.



→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Slytherin | Open

Personality:
Gil is rough around the edges, has a sharp tongue and a flashpan temper, but he rarely - if ever - acts on it. Although that hasn't always been the case. His misspent youth has afforded him the opportunity to live in a less than reputable way, and because of this he thinks himself clever enough to read people. In actuality, his readings are usually hit or miss, but it depends on how long he has been observing the person.

Appearance:
Tall, dark and freckled. Gil's hair is usually well maintained, and he his clothing crisp and well fitted despite his upbringing. Thanks mostly in part to his current patron. He still has a habit of having some dirt under his nails, and his hands are rough and callous from years spent living roughly.


→ 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."



To say that today had been a good day was as far from the truth as humanly possible. Then again, human probably wasn't the right word either, as Gil didn't feel very much like one of those today either. His hope had been that things would improve following breakfast, but that thought had been oh so foolish on his part.

You see, Gil had spent the morning with a throbbing headache, and his fingers itched to reach into his robes for something that he knew he wouldn't find. It was something that had caught him off guard at least twice a day since he had transferred here, and he figured it would be even longer until he had kicked the nasty habit altogether.

Still, in the absence of his vice, the boy stalked the grounds with what seemed to be a burr stuck in his shoes. His eyes fixed dead ahead of him, a grimace curving his lips.

"You blasted rat! Where are you?"

When the words reached his ears, Gil twitched violently. While the logical side of him knew that he wasn't the one being addressed, rat was something that always caused his hackles to rise. If only ever slightly, as it was a term that he had been referred to often growing up. No one here knew him though, which helped to keep the storm that roiled inside of him at bay, but it still showed wildly in his eyes.

Of course, the boy he stumbled upon - the source of the exclamation, it seemed - did little to curb the situation. If anything, his haughty tone only stoked the flames inside of Gil, and he tried his best not to bite the boy's head off. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, placing a hand to his chest and trying his best to fake being spurned by the scolding. "Being polite was never something I was any good at, y'know. Then again, at least I'm not caking my robes in snot."

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous):
James Knight & company.

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I'm so old.

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