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Archived Applications / The return of Samael Gray
« on: 27/08/2018 at 19:32 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Samael Sanford Gray

Birthday: 9 March 1937 (17 y.o.)

Hometown: Ehh. Originally somewhere in Wales. That island that the Protheros live on. Except he kinda ran away and has been alternating between living in muggle and wizarding London for a while. From time to time the Protheros manage to get a hold of him and kindnap him back to the Prothero Castle, but he'll get out of there. He also moved in with his older sister by 16 years, Tegan, but ran away from there as well...

Summary: He has spent the last few years running away from most things, living sometimes on the streets of muggle and/or wizarding London, sometimes in the forest or other natural sites (exact position irrelevant), and occassionally in the Prothero Castle on the Welsh coast until he's managed to escape again. Aaaand repeat.

Bloodline:
Halfblood (son to Michael Gray and Dahlia Prothero)

Magical Strength (pick one):
Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Transfiguration

Year (pick two):
6th or 5th (no preferrance). Backstory: Sammy entered 1st year in 49-50, and was already a year behind then because he really struggles with school (and general learning, truly...). I do not find it unlikely that he could be 'held back' one more time, since he practically dropped out of 1st year, and has been attempted (with pressure on attempted) homeschooled since then, to everyone's great frustration.

Biography:
He had never asked to be born, and there was no arguing that he had been an unwanted child. Unwanted by the father that was never there, unwanted by a family into which he'd had to grow up as the black sheep among pureblood elitists. Unwanted by a world that liked to line things up, to organise and categorise in ways that made him unfit, that wanted to label and reject him.

There were several harsh truths that he'd had to grow up with.

One was the fact that when you were told to sit quietly on your chair, people somehow expected for this to be followed through. Why exactly it was that Samael had this strong need to do the exact opposite of what they had told him, was hard to explain. Part of it could be due to the common rebel of the child in need to test borders and limitations. The problem was that no matter how hard the consequences, no matter how fierce the punishment, Samael kept on going, pulling the string further and further, until it snapped and he, or someone else, eventually got hurt.

Perhaps it was because the world was so loud, and that Samael wanted to be louder. However, the young Gray was not a particularly talkative person - rather, he kept to himself in all things private. His ever growing collection of Michael Gray articles hidden deep into a drawer, underneath the layers of fine clothing that the Protheros attempted to force onto him. Transferred into his trunk now, these written account of the myth that was his father, there in one moment, gone in the next, yet never present.

He had been the master runaway, the acrobatic little thing that could wriggle his way out of the strongest hold and the tiniest window. His constant escape in crowded places meant that they kept him home as much as possible, with the result that he felt even more caged and became even more impossible to handle. Whichever mould they had been trying for so long to press him inside, just wouldn't fit. He was the stark contrast to the others of the Prothero Castle, and perhaps this was what had once brought its young Head of Family to seek out the grown-up sister (and to another predicted failure at keeping him restrained). No matter how much they attempted to love him, it did not appear to be what he wanted.

Needless to say, Samael needed the change in environment, needed the change in scenery, running his laps through the forest rather than on a windswept, barren island somewhere on the Welsh coast. The city provided him with new opportunities, and he took to exploring the streets of Diagon, the corners of Knockturn, always spontaneously and never knowing where he was going. In that way he was turning out quite like his father - always somewhere, but never there.

Many wrongly interpreted it as blatant stubbornness, as conscious unruliness, or worse - that he was a dimwit, and that every piece of information that they tried to give him - on where to be, on how to act - passed into one ear then right through the other. They thought of monstrous unnaturality, for the boy that was born into love, into money, and had never suffered any hardships that were not (obviously) created inside his own mind.

The articles had slowed in number now. Only occassionally was there a notice in the Prophet, an image of the senior Gray, either from his time as Head of the Auror Office, or in its most extreme contrast, as the ragged beast locked up in Azkaban. The man that everyone had known and recognised and acknowledge (against his will, for Michael Gray had only ever wanted two things, and these were neither of the listed), reduced into the caged animal that he had been once before, and that he had become again now.

He had ran away from it all, over and over had he ran, been found, and ran again. Lived on the crumbs of others, snatched golden watches off their wrists and sold them for food and tobacco, got his hands bleeding in provoked and unprovoked fighting. Learned things about the world that children should not know.

And ran into the forest in ragged clothing and high boots. Set his snares, burned his fires, and ate his own self-caught food, often degraded, often dirty.

But he lived.

And he was free.

When they finally managed to re-capture him (for that was the only way to control him - thought they, anyway) another decision was made to try again. If anything, at least the loud little Sammy had become the somewhat more quiet (though no less explosive) Samael. Pushing the responsibility onto the staff at Hogwarts School yet again, the Protheros made one last attempt at creating a decent human being out of Samael Sanford Gray.


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

House Request:
He was previously sorted into Ravenclaw, for mysterious reasons. Feel free to re-sort.

Personality: Stubborn to a certain degree, though surprisingly feeble-minded in that he does not appear to have many opinions (or feelings?) of his own. He can be swayed (or bought) into doing practically anything and has little to no remorse. An extremely short attention span and lightning-speed ability for getting distracted makes it very hard for him to focus on school work (which he will not do anyway). Extremely freedom seeking. Trying to tie him down will likely end in violence. Should probably be kept away from Quidditch. Can be outright cruel, and will hit girls back.

If there even are any talents, he is pretty street smart, is agile as hell, a very fast runner, and physically strong. Often he appears to react on instinct rather than thought. His ability for escaping can probably be interpreted as some sort of creativity. Can occassionally be seen building things, such as snares or tools or outdoors shelters - has inherited his father's talent for survival and outdoor living.

Extremely independent, though detached from the rest of the world is possibly a better way to put it. It is hard to tell whether Sammy has any solid bonds to other humans at all.

Appearance:
Blonde hair, brown eyes, about 5'10, well built. Looks a lot like his father, but has his mother's dark eyes.

→ RETURNING STUDENTS.
Note: This section is only for students who have been previously played at Hogwarts. Please see here for more information about Castle Dropouts levels/how many levels you are eligible to claim.

Link to your last levels request (if you never posted one, link to your last accepted student application): Application

Number of New Levels Requested: 5 years passed = +10 levels. (Old levels C1D0T1S2)

New Levels Request: C4D3T2S5

How your character kept up with their studies: He didn't. Other than on-hand 'practice' for necessary reasons. Incredible measures have been taken in order to try to home-school him, so some information may or may not have slipped into his mind unconsciously. He has a 'talent' for C/S and is thus naturally somewhat stronger in this branch of magic. Besides anything that is directly useful to him, as a child/teenager primarily having lived on the street. This is despite having being born into an incredibly wealthy family.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not Evangeline's or Hugh's.

Option I:

He liked the Dungeouns, although what it was about them that appealed to him was hard to say. It was their plainness, the way that they'd just been left her portraying nothing but the dungeons that they actually were - something that had not been changed and altered into pretending it was something else.

It was the cold of the stone walls, the dripping sound from dark corners. The solitude, a place where people did not go in order to do their homework, or to chit-chat and be friendly. He supposed he fit into them, these dungeons, a chameleon against grey-stained walls. They were as filthy as himself, somehow - in a sense he felt a sense of belonging inside this large quiet. And if you ever met someone down here, it was rarely in big groups as long as you avoided the main path to the Slytherin commons.

He liked the complexity of the tunnels.

The way there was always something new to discover.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

Samael turned his head, looked back down the tunnel. He'd heard of the ghost - ghosts were one of those things that peaked his interest, that made him pay a bit more attention, listen to the voices around him. She was someone who had died in here in the Castle, and he wondered how she'd died, whether it had been particularly bloody.

In fact, she was a main reason why he had come down here to look for himself.

He snuck back, silently, the way he'd come, to try to locate the voice, thinking he could recognise its shivers, the sign that whoever was talking out loud down here was not entirely confident in doing so. Feeling his own excitement growing in accordance with the apparent fright of the other.

Then he sat down, in one of the darker corners, close to her - observing, trying to recognise her, and waiting for her to come closer. He could be a ghost, if he wanted to.

Reaching out his arms, he made himself ready to grab for her legs when she only got close enough.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Altair w/friends.

How did you find us?: In my dreams.

2
Archived Applications / Samael Sanford Gray
« on: 27/12/2016 at 15:10 »

Application for Hogwarts School




? CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Samael Sanford Gray

Birthday: 9 March 1937

Hometown: Recently moved from Wales to London - change of households from the Protheros to his half sister Tegan Owensby because Head of the Protheros, Eugene, got fed up with the antics and conflicts he created (also, because his mother, Dahlia, is too ill to handle him at the current moment).

Bloodline:
Muggleborn / Halfblood / Pureblood / Unknown

Magical Strength (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): 1st, 2nd

Biography:
He had never asked to be born, and there was no arguing that he had been an unwanted child. Unwanted by the father was never there, unwanted by a family into which he'd had to grow as the black sheep among pureblood elitists. Unwanted by a world that liked to line things up, to organise and categorise in ways that made him unfit, that wanted to label and reject him.

There were several harsh truths that he'd had to grow up with.

One was the fact that when you were told to sit quietly on your chair, people somehow expected for this to be followed through. Why exactly it was that Samael would always feel this strong need to do the
exact opposite of what they said was hard to explain. Part of it could be due to the common rebel of the child in need to test borders and limitations. The problem was, though, that no matter how hard the consequences, no matter how fierce the punishment, Samael kept going, pulling the string further and further until he, or someone else, eventually got hurt.

Perhaps it was because the world was so loud, and that Samael wanted to be louder. However, the young Gray was not a particularly talkative person - rather, he kept to himself in all things private. His ever growing collection of Michael Gray articles was hidden deep into a drawer, underneath the layers and layers of fine clothing that the Protheros attempted to force onto him. It had been transferred into his trunk now, these written accounts of the myth that was his father, there in one moment, gone in the next, yet never present. Oh, he did not doubt that his mother had wanted him, that his youngest sister loved him, but in relation to the big picture they appeared like little dirty specks.

He was the master runaway, an acrobatic little thing that could wriggle his way out of the strongest hold and the tiniest window. His constant escape in crowded places meant that they tried bringing him as little as possible, with the result that he felt even more caged and became even more impossible to handle at home. Whichever mould they had been trying for so long to press him inside, just wouldn't fit. He was the stark contrast to the others of the Prothero Castle, and perhaps this was what brought its young Head of Family to seek out the grown-up sister. No matter how much they attempted to love him, it did not appear to be what he wanted.

Needless to say, Samael looked forward to the change in environment, forward to the change in scenery, to running his laps through the forest rather than on a windswept, barren island somewhere on the Welsh coast. The city provided him with new opportunities, and he took to exploring the streets of Diagon, the corners of Knockturn, always spontaneously and never telling where he was going. In that way he was turning out quite like his father - always somewhere, but never there.

Some claimed he was stupid. Others said he just simply didn't care. Perhaps there was a word of wisdom to both of those opinions. Samael had a great deal of difficulty relating to others, lost in his own world of feeling and acting which appeared to be somewhat different from that of others. This, and a rather explosive temper, meant that he had great difficulty making friends.

Somehow this made him vulnerable to being used.

Perhaps it was because he wanted them to like him that he started doing what he was told without questioning his actions. Perhaps it was because they, in their destructiveness, appealed to him in some sort of strange, twisted way.

Quite possibly it was just that he'd found out it gave him the attention that he so wanted - when they looked at him, when they talked to him, the consequences that followed. Someone screaming at you still involved
you, and he could live with that.


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

House Request: Go sort.

Personality: Stubborn, mean, sometimes outright cruel, attention seeking loner (go figure), energetic (ADHD), short attention span, physical, active, has a hard time learning when there's no interest present (which is usually), streetwise, good with his hands, creative, spontaneous, rulebreaker, has absolutely no respect for authority or people in general (or himself).

Appearance: Blonde hair, brown eyes, average height, physically strong.


? SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Option I:

He liked the Dungeouns, although what it was about them that appealed to him was hard to say. It was their plainness, the way that they'd just been left her portraying nothing but the dungeons that they actually were - something that had not been changed and altered into pretending it was something else. Dungeons were not supposed to be a cozy place.

It was the cold of the stone walls, the dripping sound from dark corners. The solitude, a place where people did not go in order to do their homework, or to chit-chat and be friendly. He supposed he fit into them, these dungeons, a chameleon against grey stained walls. They were as filthy as himself, somehow, although that was a feeling he had not yet quite been able to nail. And if you ever met someone down here, it was rarely in big groups as long as you avoided the main path to the Slytherin commons.

He liked the complexity of the tunnels.

The way there was always something new to discover.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

Samael turned his head, looked back down the tunnel. He'd heard of the ghost - ghosts were one of those things that peaked his interest, that made him pay a bit more attention, listen to the voices around him. She was someone who had died in here in the Castle, and he wondered how she'd died, whether it had been particularly bloody.

He snuck back, silently, the way he'd come, to try to locate the voice, thinking he could recognise its shivers, the sign that whoever was talking out loud down here was not entirely confident in doing so.

Then he sat down, in one of the darker corners, close to her - observing, trying to recognise her, and waiting for her to come closer. He could be a ghost, if he wanted to. Reaching out his arms, he made himself ready to grab for her legs when she only got close enough.


? ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Marcus Altair, Fish Weiland et. al.

How did you find us?: In my dreams.

3
Elsewhere Accepted / Behold the coming of Samael Gray
« on: 04/11/2013 at 23:35 »

E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Samael Gray

Gender: Male

Age: Born 9 March 1937 - 2 turning 3

Bloodline:
Halfblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Dahlia Prothero and Michael Gray, although the latter is generally rather absent and not wanted around the Prothero Castle. And yes, they're both played.

Residence:
With mommy and big sis. I think they've been hanging around the Prothero Castle for a while.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
I don't think the Daycare's up anymore. Either way, it's probably enough getting spoiled by grandma. It's not like there aren't enough old ladies at the Prothero Castle.

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:
Marcus, Mikey, Eugene, all the people.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Sammy didn't learn to walk. He learned to run.

And they were little feet, but they brought him a long way in a matter of seconds, an agile little child, motoric in every way but in the ones that required patience. Gifted would some say, if it had been considered a gift running from your already exhausted mother. Samael wasn't easily cuddled, for he couldn't sit still for a second, and it was for many long nights that he had been lying in bed, screaming his lungs out because he didn't want to sleep, yet was dead tired.

For Sammy didn't learn to talk, he learned to shout.

Sammy didn't like peas. He didn't like cold. Didn't like when it was too dark or too quiet or even too loud. If there had been some sort of box to place around the world, to frame it, Samael might have tried and then torn it all back down. Sometimes it was the contrasts that made the world into what it was, yet he barely registered them. To the two-years-old the world was a mass of sounds and colours and movements, and he floated with them. Had to, because it was all bringing him somewhere, and then he had to let it. He did not think, for nobody had really taught him to, and he didn't listen to them when they tried to make him, because there was always something else going on, catching his attention.

But Sammy liked his sister. Even if they didn't share a last name and even if she wasn't truly really his sister because they had different fathers and different bloods. He didn't know what that meant. And he crawled into her bed at night, because Wendelyn Prothero was always warm and it was the only place in which he sometimes wanted to lie still. Although he kicked her in his sleep. He kicked her when they were awake, but he kicked her in his sleep as well.

And his mommy, she was warm sometimes too. And sometimes him and Winnie would crawl into mommy's bed, but he wouldn't lie still at all. Instead he'd jump on top of them both. He looked different from mommy, and from Winnie, and mommy had said it was because his father looked different, but Sammy didn't know who his father was so he didn't understand what they meant and he didn't care either.

Sometimes he pushed his dinner plate on the floor even though he was hungry. And when mommy tried to feed him, he'd turn away his head. And when she told him to stop, in that tired voice, he'd grin. When she tried again, he'd scream until she let him out of the chair. And then he'd scream some more later, because he was hungry. Because, in general, Sammy quite liked food.

He pulled their hair too. All of their hair. Because it made them made funny noises and expressions. And he liked climbing. Once he managed to make a bookshelf fall over, to the Protheros' horror, for they'd thought he'd been underneath. But he hadn't. And from that point his one sole task in life had to be to make it happen again, because of all the ruckus it had caused.

It was way more fun than getting his head stuck underneath the sofa anyway.

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:
They were up in the air, flying. Like birds. He'd tried to catch a bird once, with his hands. Well, several of them really, but they'd all been too quick for him, and he'd ended up throwing a tantrum over the fact that they didn't want his hands on them. That they all took off once he got close. There were no birds here though. And no mommy, for that matter. Samael had seen some girl, let go of his mother's hand, and followed the girl with the broomstick.

She was making a lot of noise.

That was probably why he hadn't found something else to do yet. Some said it was creativity. Others said it was a short attention span. Sammy didn't really know what either meant and he hadn't bothered listening for long enough in order to try to fit the pieces together anyway. He didn't like puzzles.

A sudden idea had him turning around, looking for his sister, but he spotted a tree instead and ran over instantly, trying to get his hands around the lowest branch. He could reach it, so he went for the trunk instead, wrapping his arms and feet around it.

"You!"

The sudden noise had his head turning, and he met her blue gaze with his own brown.

"...Do you want to play?"

He blinked for a bit, and took a second to think, making a quick decision before allowing himself to place his feet back on the ground. He didn't precisely answer the girl (bigger than him - not that it would stop him from taking her on, if he should want to), instead he came over, and leaned close, so that only she could hear what he had to say.

"Your mom is a vampire."

It was a whisper with the uttermost care, for it was a most dangerous situation.

OTHER
How did you find us? Religious calling

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