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Topics - Elliot Blythe

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1
Archived Applications / Elliot Blythe 2.0
« on: 24/12/2014 at 19:02 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Elliot Oliver Blythe

Birthday: June 22nd, 1927

Hometown: Dublin, Ireland.

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Year (pick two): 6th year.

Biography: [Elliot's metamorphmagus ability has already been approved]

Elliot fiddled with the collar of his dress shirt, steady hands grazing the fabric. He drew his lips into a thin line. In the reflection of the mirror, he noted his furrowed brows, a concentrated look. He creased the fold. Then, he ran his newly unoccupied fingers through his hair, fixing loose strands and messy bits of bedhead toward the back. The hairs on his neck bristled. He hesitated, then locked his gaze with the creaky floorboards beneath his bare feet. He couldn’t look too closely in the mirror; he could hardly recognize himself anymore. He could hardly remember what he first looked like.

The mirror was a new addition to his crumbling apartment; with a little costume change, he’d been able to fool the landowner into thinking he was in his mid-thirties. He lifted his gaze back up. A broader shouldered man looked back at him, speckles of grey in a nest of black, hands worn out and scarred like a carpenter’s. The only trait they both shared was the same name.

Tearing his eyes away from the mirror hung in the entrance way, Elliot ignored the stack of unreturned textbooks at the corner of his dingy flat and sank into his red sofa, one armrest torn to shreds: a metamorph episode he wished he could forget about. He spread out, his feet claiming one end, his head claiming the other. All window blinds were raised, exposing him to a cloudy, gusty afternoon outside. The wind seemed to rattle his entire apartment with him inside.

Stuffing his hand between the two cushions of the sofa, Elliot extracted an orange bottle of pills. He frowned, five tablets left. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the doctors had diagnosed. Interaction with the outside world had been limited after that. Elliot popped the top off and swallowed two as instructed; medication for anxiety. All the pills really did was give him an energy high. Then, the  numbing effect kicked in and he’d stare into the ceiling for two hours--he would fall asleep if he got lucky.

With a heavy exhale, Elliot stuffed the bottle back between the cushions. He studied his hand, changing it from carpenter’s to his own to elegant woman’s to his own to carpenter's; this he did with an eerie ease. A year prior, he could hardly control changes of eye color; now, he controlled every ounce of every trait he changed. He had made mountainous progress. Crow would be proud, if Elliot still kept in contact with the man, or anyone else nowadays.

Now, only silence kept his company.

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

House Request: Hufflepuff

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.

Elliot weaved passed the crowds, his quiet gaze targetting a clean way through without any altercations. A group of first year girls giggled and spoke among themselves--Elliot recalculated his route and avoided contact. Woman: to this day, they made his blood run cold and his hands go clammy. He had firm to his messenger bag and pursued a path towards the moving staircases.

“Hey!"

Elliot's gaze betrayed him; he locked eyes with one of those reporter girls who seemed to patrol the corridors twenty-four-seven attempting to affirm their gross gossip articles. Elliot briefly wondered how long it had been since the girl ate or slept or bathed; did she ever really leave the corridors or were her stories simply more important?

“Wait up! It’s for the paper!”

Elliot shifted, turning to walk away as he mumbled to himself, "That's exactly why I'm leaving." His heart fluttered as she gained some distance between them, the clacking of her obnoxious shoes growing louder. Elliot ground his molars as he forced himself to stay. Woman; they scared the shit out of him, but he wasn't about to run away.

“What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”

Elliot turned back to face her, the human adaption of a songbird. He sighed and took a step back; did this girl know nothing about his personal bubble? "I don't care," Elliot responded indifferently.

He studied the girl's expression. He had to admit, his response wouldn't leave her with much to write about. He added hesistantly, "If anyone's complaining about the food here, they've got nothing else to complain about."

Elliot turned to leave.

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Elliot Blyth, Rodric Medraut, Samuel Oliveroot, Elise Ferris.

How did you find us?: Magic.


2
Archived Applications / Elliot Blyth
« on: 01/04/2014 at 04:34 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Elliot Oliver Blyth

Birthday: June 22

Hometown: Dublin, Ireland

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Year (pick two): 4th or 3rd Year [Preferably 4th]

Biography:

Elliot softly pursed his lips together, slightly chapped, his gaze traveling along the missing childrens’ section of a coffee stained newspaper laid across his lap. The edges had curled inward after being exposed to the steamy liquid inside the coffee mug upon his desk before drying over the past few nights indoors. Swallowing the lump gradually forming in his throat, Elliot bit into the inside of his cheek hard as he tossed the paper aside and collapsed onto his twin-size bed.

Elliot Oliver Blyth, fifteen years old, doting son of well known author and researcher, Alec Blyth and full-time mother, Blaire Blyth, was last spotted April 13th, 1940 in the Iveagh Gardens, Dublin, Ireland. Elliot was last seen wearing a checkered short sleeve dress shirt with black pants. Elliot is described as “lacking muscle”, 165 cm tall and “timid”. His hair,  “overgrown”, and eyes are both a dark brown color. If spotted, contact the Dublin Police Department immediately.

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to vomit and then explode into a million pieces and then vomit again. Rolling over in his bed so that his pillow muffled any sound that escaped his lips, Elliot groaned, a tight knot forming in between his eyebrows as he contemplated what his next plan of action was. The paper was two months old. He hadn’t spoken to his parents in over two months, which could only mean one outcome: ultimate, devastating and inevitable destruction.

The moment his parents figured out where he was and what he was doing, they would destroy him. No, “destroy” was an understatement. They would eliminate any evidence of Elliot Oliver Blyth ever once existed on the face of the Earth. They would go back in time just to make sure Elliot Oliver Blyth had never been conceived.

Elliot raised his face from the comfort of his moth-eaten pillow as he heard his bedroom door slowly creak open, revealing the essence of bright blue eyes and horribly bleached blonde hair through the narrow opening. Victor, the boy who had housed him for the past few months, hesitantly walked into the room, a concerned expression highlighting each of his sharp, distinct features.

In a sorry attempt to keep himself together, Elliot held his breath and remained completely still, willing his face not to contort into a mess of mushy skin and salty tears.

“Hey Eli...Oh,” Victor paused, hands pressed against his hips as he studied Elliot’s puffy eyes, “--Eli, come on, don’t do that…”

Elliot’s mouth hung slightly ajar, his chin trembling as he struggled to find the right words to articulate what he had been feeling last night and the two nights before. Slowly, he sat back up and glanced around the overbearingly barren room he had been sleeping in for what felt like years. A slow,  high-pitched whine escaped his lips as he bent into his lap, collapsing into tears.

So much for trying to keep himself together.

Elliot could count on two hands how many times he had found himself in the very situation he was in now: cornered between a wall, the floral wallpaper peeling off from the top corner over time, and Victor, with a pitying look in his eye, standing before him. Elliot had never been able to hold himself together for very long.

His chest ached when he became exceptionally upset, and there was no stopping the tears after that. Especially in front of other people, especially when he rather do anything than talk about his feelings in front of other people.

Before, his mother would always explain to her husband’s colleagues that Elliot had always been a  shy boy who had trouble speaking to people, especially women, and was currently receiving counseling from the best in town. Meanwhile, his father would explain to his colleagues how Elliot’s lackluster interest in sports was only minimal because of his severe anxiety, which, of course,  inhibits Elliot from performing basic athletic tasks. Before Elliot had officially run away, excuses flew faster in his house than the planes above it.

“Hey,” Victor spoke softer as he carefully sat on the bed beside the huddled mass his friend was suppose to be. Laying a hand on the small of Elliot’s back, Victor leaned in, his head resting on the boy’s shoulder. His heart skipping a beat, Elliot pulled away, shrinking further into himself.

“What’s wrong?” Victor prompted, ignoring how the boy pulled away, “You’re going to suffocate yourself if you bury your face any further into your crotch.”

Elliot chuckled at the comment, reaching towards his cheek to wipe away falling tears. He then wiped his runny nose on his sleeve, emerging from his huddled form to face Victor who seemed relieved to see some glimmer of hope in the boy’s bloodshot eyes.

If there was one person in the world who Elliot cared about more than Subject, the old cat who took refuge in the same rundown house he did, it was Victor, who, no matter what the circumstance, had never not been able to cheer him up.

“My mother’s going to kill me,” Elliot murmured in between sniffles, reaching for Victor’s hand to play with. “First, she’s going to lecture me until my ears turn blue and begin to bleed. Then, she’s going to set fire to everything I’ve ever loved. She’ll finish me off slowly and painfully,  I’m not sure how yet, but it’s going to be full of pain and full of slowness.”

Victor snorted, shaking his head, “You’ve certainly had a lot of time to think about this, but it’s not the end of the world, mate. You’re going to go to that special school of yours and you’ll make it from there...You’ll always have a home here, you know?”

“I know,” Elliot answered a little bit too fast, running a shaky hand along his overgrown fringe.

“And you’ll make a lot of friends, and you’ll get over that stupid phobia of yours-”

“Gynophobia,” Elliot interrupted.

“--Right, Gynophobia,” Victor said, squeezing Elliot’s side, “-And you’ll write me a ton of letters, which I will read over and over again.”

“Yeah, I will,” Elliot replied, “And you’ll take care of Subject while I’m gone.”

Victor nodded, getting to his feet before reaching for Elliot’s hand. “It’s only 186 days. You’ll be home before I know it.”

“Before you know it.” Elliot said, taking Victor’s hand and pulling himself up, careful not to let his eyes wander towards Victor’s exposed, defined bicep. Elliot knew he was an overly impulsive boy, he tried to keep himself calm and under the radar above all else.

Under the radar, as if that were easy to achieve after being in the local paper for two months straight. At least he wasn’t wandering through Dublin anymore. He had been staying with Victor in Dufftown, Scotland for a good long time. Perhaps everyone had forgotten about him after properly searching the town, if anyone even did that much to find him.

Victor pulled open the door, gesturing for Elliot to walk through, “You wouldn’t want to miss your train,” He insisted with a smile that never truly reached his eyes, as though he were deep in thought about something else more important than being late for a train to some boarding school like program.

“Right,” Elliot murmured, taking one last look at his room before walking out the door. Victor slammed it behind him, and together, they walked downstairs and towards the front door.

Elliot sighed deeply  as he gathered his luggage. Under the radar: he wondered whether he could achieve even that.



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

House Request: Hufflepuff. [Second choice: Ravenclaw]

Personality: Elliot is a timid soul, prone to quietly lurking through the boys’ laboratory during late hours of the night and through the gardens during the day. He has a passion for herbology and the care of magical creatures, however his phobia, gynophobia, often inhibits him from completing basic tasks in a public setting.

Easily frightened, surprised and sick, he isn’t the strongest boy on the block; however, he is typically overly kind to others around him, though he frequently avoids the female gender. Despite his timidness, Elliot is known to be dramatically impulsive when he is most nervous, which has gotten him in trouble a number of times before. His cleverness is average, he lacks in the bravery department and he’s about as smart as a typical student.

Appearance: Elliot’s mop of dark brown hair overlaps his line of sight and curls around the base of his neck. His hazel eyes, under certain frames of light, are highlighted with greenish brown specks, as he has often observed himself in bathroom mirrors. His skin is fairly acne free, although he does suffer from a few bad breakouts every few months or so, like any average teenager his age.

His choice of clothing is usually casual; it’s difficult to imagine him in a suit strictly because of his everyday wear. Not too tall and very slim, he isn’t the most intimidating boy and he lacks in muscle mass.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.

Elliot slung the strap of his scuffed up leather bag over his shoulder, ignorant of the students, oblivious to how loud they were being, who passed through the corridors during the day. Their voices blurred into one continuous background noise, a soft buzzing Elliot had pushed toward the back of his mind as he paced passed. He was known simply as The Mute, the boy who never spoke unless spoken to, the boy who would rather listen than speak, the quiet one from Dublin.

Elliot made a list inside his head as he desperately tried to ignore a group of giggling girls who passed him by in the same corridor. He missed Victor, the boy he had known before all of this silly school business, otherwise known as his secret security blanket complete with bleach blonde hair and bright, seemingly radiant blue eyes.

He missed his parents, who were bound to figure out where he had stowed away in good time. He missed a time when he hadn’t had to suffer from gynophobia, his severe and unexplainable fear of women. He missed Subject, his very own feral cat. He missed practically everything, and nothing and no one seemed to miss him except--

Hey! A shrill, overly enthusiastic voice erupted from behind Elliot; afterwards, faintly echoing down the hall. Panic bubbled up in his throat, rising in out of the sudden nausea that ran laps across his stomach lining.

Elliot weighed the chances of a first year boy shouting after him over the cheery sound of a girl’s voice following him down the hall. He begrudgingly believed in the latter. The soft clicking of footsteps became heavier as the caller gained on Elliot, despite his desperate attempt to speed up and avoid confrontation.

“Wait up! It’s for the paper!”

“C-Cant, can’t possibly wait up, I-I have a class to get to,” Elliot shouted back with a shaky voice, his heart racing as he turned another corner and contemplated whether or not to start running until the stranger practically chasing after him lost his trail. With a sudden gasp, the voice froze. Elliot looked back, immediately regretting the reflex as his eyes met with the girl he had previously been pacing away from.

“What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch?”

Elliot stood with his mouth gaping, his feet subconsciously shuffling backward, away from the girl. His hands shook feverishly and the way his heart beat against his ribcage hurt his hoarse throat. He swallowed hard, “W-w-wait, what?”

“Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”

“Uhh…” Elliot jumped as he backed himself into a corner, “I--Uhh, god, um, I’ve never had fr-frog legs before, so I-I guess I don’t know…” His eyes darted both ways, silently pleading with the girl to walk away.


→ ABOUT YOU.

Previous Characters (if applicable): None. Yay, newbie!

How did you find us?: Through a friend.


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