Name: Ethan Honoré Battersea
Former Character's Name (if you had one): In order of appearance: Gwyllim Battersea, Etain M Battersea, Charles Stellus Battersea (in HDK,) Ewan Thurston Battersea, Keller Myles Battersea, Diarmaid Kincaid Brennan, Riordan Niall Brennan, & Oliver Fredrick Winterdawn.
Character Details__________________________________________________________
House Request: Though this bio should speak for itself, the character was a Ravenclaw NPC two terms ago. Therefore I would humbly request he remain there for continuity purposes. However, as a better explanation might be in order. We all possess qualities that each house espouses, there is little doubt in this. However, it is the qualities--the core of our nature--that is espoused the greatest that should always be taken into account. While Ethan may possess a degree of bravery, loyalty, and perhaps chivalry, his ideas of bravery is geared toward postulates: 'if x takes place, then y,' his loyalty is to family first and friends second and his ideas of chivalry are at best antiquated and subdued, thinking before acting and contemplating the outcomes of ventures overall.
Secondly we come to House Hufflepuff and the idea of hard work and fair play. Any hard work Ethan does is directed toward one thing: academics and secondly to his music. Considering the idea of fair play falls back to the idea of having a measure of principles on which to judge things; Ethan doesn't care about fair play so much as the principle of the matter; moral bias guided by reason. Thirdly, on matter of House Slytherin, let me first say that being pureblood does not equal Slytherin; never has and never will and is an argument I have made over the years. While the Battersea Family is grounded by a deep sense of traditionalism it is geared toward their dusty academic reticent nature. Ethan's ambition lies in the direction of his studies; knowledge is power and family aside, little else matters.
Year: 4th (His twin sister, Elspeth is also 4th.) If there's no possible way, then 5th.
Bloodline: Pureblood
Magical Strength: Summoning
Magical Weakness: Transfiguration
Biography (Soundtrack, Bach Cello Suite 2 I. Prelude):
"You can take a piece, play it front and back incorporating all the minor nuances the composer has set in place. But if all you can do is 'play' and not 'feel' what it is you're doing then that music is worthless; little more than a note here and a rest there. Music-- real music--requires the heart and mind to be one, not separate, and until you realize this, you will never become what you aspire to be."
The blonde-haired boy stepped into his room, pausing a moment before closing the door. His eyes narrowed briefly as he thought he heard someone within, possibly Elspeth or Oliver. Occasionally his room was used as a place to read more by his baby brother than his twin sister as she spent a lot of time with their father. Ethan typically didn't mind Oliver in his room; despite their youngest brother being the rowdiest of the three, which wasn't saying much, he was a great kid, just a bundle of energy. Still, at least the boy enjoyed hearing his big brother grind away on the cello. Moreover, it was a blessing that Oliver never brought those bagpipes into his room anymore; though he was becoming quite talented, one time listening to the droning was enough!
Closing the door, Ethan looked around, slightly puzzled, until his eyes caught what he had mistaken for an unexpected guest and sighed quietly. Earlier that week the boy had taken a book from their family library to read and being half asleep when he put it down, placed it precariously on one of the two bookshelves in his room. Grimacing slightly, the blue-eyed teenager immediately picked it up and placed it on his desk before turning back to the room itself. On his walls were pictures; a few were family portraits, the most recent taken barely a week ago. Others were trips taken through Scotland; Glasgow, Edinburgh, Fort William, Inverness, the Orkney and Shetland Islands. The others were of France; Perpignan, Narbonne, Montpellier, Arles, Marseilles, and Avignon. Battersea Castle with its majestic towers and Waldgrave Villa with its beautiful gardens in Southern France.
At any rate, he reminded himself to take the book back to the study in the morning and to find that cauldron of his. Even though he had some good habits, Ethan was bad about stashing away leftover items until the last moment. Oliver would probably be in there engaged in drawing or painting; the boy always seemed to have a knack for it, though some of his work--vampires, dragons, and vampires verses dragons--were decidedly fanciful and to a point, morbid. At least he studied the books around him to get a sense of accuracy and scale. Elspeth he imagined, if not that morning then later that day, would probably be on the daybed reading whatever it was she fancied to her heart's content. It was the best place to read; warm light spilling upon it allowing one to soak it up and use it to pour through a tome or two. And out of three, she was the unofficial claimant to the thing… he wasn't going to argue!
Among the pictures and books of varying sizes upon his walls and bookshelves in his room, was the only other object cherished as much, if not more than his sources of knowledge. Perhaps it was all those centuries of tradition and protocol instilled within the Battersea Family, almost genetic in its being, that Ethan, the eldest of three was in some ways a clone of his father. Within the home, among his family, the boy showed great love and affection toward his parents, grandparents, and siblings. To the lattermost was a strong but healthy sense of protectiveness due in large part that he was the eldest child. Beyond the home and his family Ethan displayed little emotion. He wasn't being angry or aloof, the boy was just too reticent for his own good. Seeing this early on, his parents turned him toward one possible outlet--music--and at the age four started him on the piano, followed by cello lessons at age five. Along with his study of Classical Languages, History (Magical and Mundane,) Philosophy, Mathematics, and Science--a typical Battersea education--Ewan and Eglantine arranged for their eldest son to take cello lessons from the finest teacher in Great Britain.
He carefully picked the musical instrument up off the bed, chiding himself for not putting it in its case before leaving his room. Had father or mother seen it out like this they would have chastised him and rightly so. It had no business lying about where it could be damaged. Already the boy was muttering in equal measures of Scottish Gaelic and French on the foolishness of such matters. Though he had to admit that it couldn't be helped. Their Grandparents, his father's parents had come from Battersea Castle to visit, and in his rush to see them, had left the thing on the bed. Grandmother Rossalyn later found Elspeth and spoke to her about the school year, while Grandfather Daven sat and talked with him and Oliver. The previous year or two his grandparents had taken them aside and given them a special book regarding the family. Within was cited family history, the genealogies of the four family lines (Estienne, Martin, Blasé, and Isembart,) along with a few other things he hadn't realized. The young Battersea had thanked his Grandfather or Seanair, later hugged his Grandmother or Seanmhair, and wished them a safe trip home.
Ethan took up the instrument studying it thoughtfully as he walked over and sat in his chair with his bow in hand. This one, the one he performed with at home was a Tecchler cello. It was for lack of a better term a gorgeous instrument, tonally and visually. And through the workings of various magics was made as impervious to damage as an instrument of its caliber and quality could get. He had a perfect replica of it to take to school with him, and while he loved that instrument, he had a greater rapport with the original. Pale blue eyes looked it over a few times admiring the workmanship that went into making it. Then he bowed his head, eyes closed as his mind, brimming with thoughts began to slow into one cohesive stream of consciousness. Opening them and putting himself in 'the moment,' the tow-headed youth took the bow and began to play the first notes of Cello Suite 2 i-Prelude by Bach, a piece he had been working on for the past month independently of anyone's assistance.
The moment Ethan had taken up the instrument it was clear to his parents that this was indeed the proper way to go. The boy was a natural; one might have easily called him a child prodigy. But after hearing him before his family, Ewan and Eglantine felt something was off. On matters of technicality, he played almost perfectly; taking into account every detail set in place by the composer, Ethan was arguably a promising virtuoso. However the more they listened as time went on, the more they felt that something wasn't connecting--until his father entered the room, watched, and listened. When asked how he did his father had praised him for his technical skill, then soundly removed the music from the stand muttering it was already memorized, threw it on the bed, and told him to play it again, and this time to become one with what he was playing.
Inevitably he wasn't angry at what his father had said; in retrospect it was better to hear this than ten or twenty years later. Maybe that was the reason he was playing this particular piece again. Something about it spoke to him, drew up a feeling within that at first scared him. It wasn't like the other pieces; the stuff he had been playing, encompassing all spectrums, from Baroque to Twentieth Century ranging from fast and light to technically difficult. And while he was used to such major composer such as Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms, he had never comes across this particular piece. Perhaps hearing the distant echo of his father's words, Ethan realized he couldn't play it and that was that. For the oddest reason the piece invoked something within him, something that made him want to express feeling into each movement he made; a tugging at his heartstrings.
Ethan found himself taking his time, with it, but not necessarily slowing down the music. This was not a piece to be rushed. Like all of Bach's work, it had its mood, timbre, and most importantly its form. Even more to the point the young Battersea found himself slowly incorporating his own interpretation into each stroke with the bow, eyes closing as he brought his own feelings to the fore. There were permutations of anger riddled with bitterness and tinctures of frustration. There was an overriding sense of melancholy with distinct undertones of sorrow and reflection. He wasn't sure what he was calling forth or why and at one time postulated that the feelings were merely a result of the interpretation of the piece. He had even researched the idea in the family library, pouring over book after book, compiling and refining a paper on the subject until he was satisfied the underlying spirit and idea behind it was correct. Not surprisingly this paper was presented to his private tutor who was confused, though intrigued at the same time.
At the climax of the piece, leading up to a grandiose pause, tears sometimes formed and he often stopped in the middle of it all just to wipe them off before continuing onward. But this time, just this once he would let the music take full control. And in that pause, where all that could be heard was seemingly stifled breathing, Ethan continued onward from it, eyes closed. What creativity he had when he first began continued to be weaved into the piece, not letting the melding of interpretation discourage him in the least. Playing the last note he listened as the tones died away and then took a deep breath as he leaned back in the chair to reflect on what had been played and also to wipe something from his face. Furrowing his brow he paused to consider the implication further noticing a wet drop or two on the cello…
And just outside his door, his father, who had paused to listen, walked away, face full of unspoken pride and nodding to himself in satisfaction…
Additional Information_______________________________________________________
Personality: Ethan is a reticent boy, much like the rest of his family, though invariably friendly and courteous to anyone who meets him. Above all the boy is observant; rarely do little details escape his attention owing in part to his shrewdness. Though he enjoys being outdoors there is never a question whether he's introverted or not, and his inclination toward that traits plus his intelligence could label him as shy, antisocial, and at the extreme potentially condescending. Whether he realizes any of this is a good question as none of those appears to faze him. Beyond this Ethan is rather mature; being a big brother he feels as though giving his younger two siblings a positive role model is what's best.
However, despite any positives exhibited, Ethan did inherit something of his father's personality, in the form of his common sense. More to the point, it is a lack thereof towards such things as relationships and romance. While he can develop friendships, even to the point of having a friend who he'd stay with 'thick and thin' as it stands his idea of love is rather null. For instance, he might point out when a girl's blushing, assume they want help on their homework, or more comically if hints about birthdays or holidays are coming up, he might suggest a research paper on the topic.
Lastly, while Ethan is like the overwhelming majority of the Battersea Family--academian first and foremost--and coming off anywhere from taciturn to hidebound, the emotion and passion he exhibits when playing his cello can be quite surprising to most people who witness it. It is as though the instrument is his emotional outlet upon which he can communicate effectively with the rest of the world.
Appearance: Ethan is very much a chip off the old block in similarity regarding his father. With a willowy physique developing, he's taller than average coming in around five-feet-six-inches in height. Possessing a pale, though healthy complexion he has sandy-blonde hair and light blue eyes.
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Sample Roleplay (Option II):
“Oh, come now!"
Astrid Bixby’s voice carried down the corridor, the tall blonde girl not far behind. Her interviewee – or victim, depending on perspective – turned a corner and she frowned. They were always so elusive when she needed them. Sure, they would talk as if there was no tomorrow during class, but once she actually needed them to say something, they were nowhere to be found. Gryffindors.
Flustered, Astrid stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared, her parchment hanging limply from her hand. She was a good reporter, really, and she always did her best to make sure that everything she wrote was accurate. She glanced down to the quill, eyeing it with disdain. It wasn’t her fault if her quill misquoted. How was she supposed to know? It made for interesting articles, at least, and if she had misquoted the Head Boy last term as saying he had a love for stuffed animals, then that gave him personality. Astrid sighed.
A pout formed on her lips as she turned away, discouraged. The corridor was mercifully empty, though the doors to The Spellbound – the school newspaper – were ominously closed. Corbridge was a mercifully sweet editor, but Astrid was terrified of disappointing her all the same. She had to come back with quotes.
Her eyes, blue, trailed her surroundings before choosing a new path, and she turned down a new corridor. A figure was ahead, and her eyes lit up, an impossibly rosy smile blossoming across her lips.
“Hey!” Astrid called, her voice light and singsong. She trotted to catch the person, her shoes clicking on the stone floor. “Wait up! It’s for the paper!” Her legs aided her admittedly poor running, and Astrid gasped as she came closer. “What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”
Sample Roleplay Response:
The blue-eyed youth paused a moment at the castle entrance, looking back across the area before proceeding inside. Ethan had just returned from wandering the grounds and now he was ready to return back to the Dormitory. And though erratic in his movements, his path served a purpose. From the shore he watched the movement of waves as they crested and crashed, tracing their ebb and flow in subtle variances of amplitude and serving as a internal way of organizing his thoughts. This was followed by a walk through the gardens and finally the maze which turned into a thoughtful mental exercise centered around observation and spatial coordination.
All of this served a purpose for the Battersea youth of course. While it was of course typical to find Ethan in his chosen place, the library, when he wished to compose his thoughts, reflect upon what he had learned and/or the events of the day or week, the tow-headed youth found himself taking a walk here and there, away from distractions that sought to inundate him with moronic actions and comments. Unfortunately even venturing further into the castle wasn't going to get him away from such things as he heard a voice being directed at him from behind.
"Frog legs?" Ethan stopped, a brow raised a moment in speculation. "I suppose it depends on the location; some place would call it a delicacy while others would of course view them as disgusting. However…" The brow softened as he looked at her, voice more thoughtful this time. "They're not that bad… rather odd when you first hear what they are, but so is escargot. With the right seasonings there… yes… pretty good."
Ethan nodded to Astrid, giving her a cordial smile and continued walking. It was after all what she wanted, an interview, and the young Battersea gave her one. Now to finish that essay he was working on earlier that day…
