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Messages - Raphaël Lecuyier
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« on: 28/09/2012 at 06:55 »
Hey Lance! Your application looks pretty good, but there are a couple things I'd like you to look over and alter before we can continue your application process. 1. Invisibility cloaks are extremely rare, and very valuable-- in the canon world, there is only one true cloak of invisibility, and it was passed down through a reputable pureblood family. Where did Lance get it? Why does he have one? 2. If Lance's mother works in Gringotts, it will mean that she has a pretty lengthy commute to work, as Gringotts is in London. I don't think that we have an American counterpart at this time in our canon. Perhaps tweak her occupation a little bit? If you choose not to, please expand your biography to include how Lance might feel about his mother commuting to London on a regular basis. 3. Your roleplay is very creative, and we value creativity very much! However, there was a set prompt which accompanied the application to be completed with it: You come across this post on the site. Please as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions!
What were partner projects about anyway?
Simon wasn't a loner, but he loathed any type of assignment that required him to team up with anyone. In his book, the only truly trustworthy student was himself. So naturally, when he'd been instructed to team of with a classmate and turn in a research report on the Muggle-American Civil War, Simon had been rather disappointed.
The library that afternoon was deserted aside from Simon and his partner. Before them lay a plethora of textbooks. Wars: Old and New by Kevin Torvalt. When You Say Civil... by Emma Jean. Each book was old and worn even more than the last. In a way, it was almost impressive that the books had lasted this long and still been put to such good use. Simon figured that there weren't many things for which that could be said.
Simon leafed through a copy of Understanding America by Harvey Wires, sighing heavily as each page flipped over on top of itself. He wondered what the student next to him was thinking. He was thinking that this was a drag. These books were probably boring beyond belief, despite their interesting appearance. The library was stuffy from the heat outside. Finally growing too bored from the text, Simon slammed the book shut and sat upright.
"How about I write the essay and stuff? You can just put your name on it. Sound good?" Please revise your roleplay response with a reply to the given prompt. Thank you for your patience and your cooperation! - Raffy
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« on: 27/09/2012 at 21:37 »
Accepted!
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« on: 14/09/2012 at 07:27 »
Mlle. Durham, Congratulations, your application to Beauxbatons Academy of Magical Arts has been accepted. Please head to the Palace and sign up for your classes as soon as possible. Raphael LecuyierDirecteur-Adjoint
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« on: 07/09/2012 at 06:58 »
Hey! Your application looks great, but just one thing before we can accept it: Please repost your application in this thread with the account you wish us to grant permissions to.
Thanks for your cooperation!
-Raffy
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« on: 31/08/2012 at 23:24 »
Mlle. Beauchamp, Congratulations, your application to Beauxbatons Academy of Magical Arts has been accepted. Please head to the Palace and sign up for your classes as soon as possible. Raphaël Lecuyier Directeur-Adjoint
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« on: 31/08/2012 at 06:22 »
Accepted!
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« on: 09/08/2012 at 19:35 »
Dear Mlle Jadence, We are pleased to inform you that your application to Beauxbatons Academy has been accepted. Please report to Mlle. Colette Fitzroy in Admissions (east wing, second floor) at your earliest convenience. Currently, it is summer in our universe, and we recommend bringing appropriate attire for the climate as well as your necessary coursebooks. Cordially, Raphaël Lecuyier  Le Directeur Adjoint, Beauxbatons Academy *Please note: Miss Fitzroy is an NPC in our universe. No need to find her!
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« on: 09/08/2012 at 19:26 »
Dear Mlle. Petit, We are pleased to inform you that your application to Beauxbatons Academy has been accepted. Please report to Mlle. Colette Fitzroy in Admissions (east wing, second floor) at your earliest convenience. Currently, it is summer in our universe, and we recommend bringing appropriate attire for the climate as well as your necessary coursebooks. Cordially, Raphaël Lecuyier Le Directeur Adjoint *Please note: Miss Fitzroy is an NPC in our universe. No need to find her!
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« on: 09/08/2012 at 19:18 »
Hey Isabel!
Your application looks great. However, I'm curious about something.
How did Isabel manage to keep the fact that her brother is a Squib out of the knowledge of the staff? Magic is a pretty hard thing to cheat.
Please repost your application with the requested revisions. : )
Thanks for your cooperation!
Raphaël
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« on: 03/08/2012 at 07:30 »
Hey Stacy! Just a couple things before we can accept your application. Why did Stacy come to Hogwarts over Salem if she's from Tennessee? Was it her parents' decision? Does she have some estranged relative in England? Perhaps expand on that in your biography, and then repost your application here  Thank you! Raphaël
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« on: 03/08/2012 at 07:24 »
Hello Primrose!
There are just a couple things in your application that we'll need you to alter before we can continue with the process.
1. As Legilimency is a a special power, you are required to complete an additional application. Please remove all reference to Prim's power as a Legilimens as such and repost your application with the tweaks. And remember: people aren't born Legilimens!
2. Why did Primrose decide to come to Hogwarts over Salem if she's from Virginia? Did her mother send her? Did she make the decision herself? Why?
Thanks for your patience and cooperation. <3
Raphaël
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« on: 03/08/2012 at 06:59 »
Hey Phoenix!
If you could repost your application here with the tweaks in your biography, that would be great. We can continue the application process after such.
Thanks for your cooperation.
Raphaël
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« on: 02/08/2012 at 04:25 »
Dear M. Chabernaud, We are pleased to inform you that your application to Beauxbatons Academy has been accepted. Please report to Mlle. Colette Fitzroy in Admissions (east wing, second floor) at your earliest convenience. Currently, it is summer in our universe, and we recommend bringing appropriate attire for the climate as well as your necessary coursebooks. Cordially, Raphaël Lecuyier  Le Directeur-Adjoint, Beauxbatons Academy *Please note: Miss Fitzroy is an NPC in our universe. No need to find her!
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« on: 27/07/2012 at 06:59 »
Accepted!
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« on: 27/07/2012 at 06:19 »
Accepted!
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« on: 27/07/2012 at 00:17 »
 Application for Beauxbatons' Professor
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Raphaël Georges Lecuyier
Age:24
Birthplace: Amiens, France
Educational History: Beauxbatons Academy, Humanities école - 1959-1963; Philosophy lycée – 1963 - 1965
Magical Levels:
Charms-20
Divination- 17
Transfiguration- 12
Conjuring & Summoning- 13
Strengths & Weaknesses: Though outwardly Raphaël seems to be something of a spacecase, being rather quiet and introspective, he has an extraordinary memory for all manner of things. He is hardworking and dedicated, when it suits him, and has the capability of extreme independence. However, he has a short and sometimes rather explosive temper and very little patience for those who get on his wrong side.
Hopes & Dreams: Ambition has always been an afterthought for Raphaël, staying decidedly out of the spotlight in the interest of staying away from people in general. He enjoys observing from an outsider’s perspective, much as one would look into a zoo exhibit to see an exotic sort of animal. His ventures stem from a pure want for knowledge, of both academic and human endeavours; whether those endeavours are pure in nature, however, is a different matter entirely.
Physical Appearance: Of somewhat average height and small stature, Raphaël has dark hair which he keeps rather short, occasionally swept to the side or combed back. His eyes are an extremely dark brown, so dark that it is difficult to tell the iris from the pupil. This gives him a rather distant, cold look, and paired with the ever-present circles beneath his eyes, gives him the unfortunate appearance of a ghost.
Biography:
Angels and demons.
They had named him for the archangel, one of the Lord’s first and favourites.
Raphaël the healing, the patron saint of the sick and the injured. The invalids, the insane, the blind.
The thought disgusted him.
The uncleanliness of it all, the broken and diseased souls that had brought his namesake purpose—filth. Pestilence. The creeping of mould and settling of dust, of things left behind, neglected and abandoned. Raphaël wanted nothing of it.
He did not speak until he was four years old.
There hadn’t been a reason to, terrible twos forgone by months, years of what seemed like a dead stare, eyes too dark to possibly hold anything but what they feared would occur again. Family clockwork.
They had been ready to send for a mind healer, to diagnose their son’s strangeness—but then, exactly a week after his fourth birthday, he opened his mouth and out came a full-formed sentence, as if he’d been speaking the entire time, too quiet for them to hear.
But no, it was much simpler than that: Raphaël had been listening the entire time.
They had expected that this occurrence would be the end of Raphaël’s disquieting silent demeanour, but it stayed. He spoke when necessary, no interest in spotlight. A convenient disinterest, convenient as the middle child between two sisters, one with needs and the other simply doted upon. Raphaël found himself, growing up, easily slipping into the shadows, spending time alone with his mind.
As he preferred it.
He sometimes staked out spots, late into the night, listening at the vents to hear the gossip of his mother’s friends, the business discussions of his father’s colleagues; and eventually Raphaël found that he knew things—Mrs. So-and-so having an affair with Mr. Who-cared-really , other such blither and mindless gossip—that, likely, others would not want him to know.
At ten, he sat prim at the dinner table, eyes straight ahead.
How well-behaved he is! His mother’s friends cooed, Such an angel! - a tight-lipped response from his mother placating them a moment more, and Raphaël knew his cue to smile. Dazzle. A rehearsed response to forced stimuli. His manners were impeccable, if not starched white, to impress.
He could not stand any of them.
Angels and demons, the world seemed so easily sorted into black and into white.
He did not understand why the ladies all gossiped so, why the men made a point to tell him how strong he seemed, would grow up to be a good husband. He did not understand people, and did not particularly wish to. It was this reason, however, that attracted him to philosophy, and the reason why he graduated from Beauxbatons Academy with honours and a préfet status from the Humanities école in the Philosophy lycée.
Angels and demons, black and white-- he didn't know where he should sort himself, feeling a sticky grayness to himself, darkening or lightening with days and nights, bubbling with a sickening hatred or soothing with too-quiet calm. He reached up often to run digits through his hair, waiting for them to bump into telltale horns or tangle with the glowing halo of his namesake, why don't I know myself--
It amused him somewhat that the headmistress elected him a préfet—it was an aesthetic contest, and those who seemed least likely to throw the école into chaos (from an outside perspective) won without consultation. What stirred beneath the surface was never assessed. It was lucky that Raphaël was good at hiding it behind a cold yet still pleasant expression, what surely appeared to be a serious and studious exterior.
Placating adults was a useful skill, and manipulation was its less beautiful twin—yet just as useful, if not more so.
Angels and demons.
Some people were not so easily sorted.
--
“We will grant you employment on the terms that we can and will terminate your position at any time.”
Winter, 1970.
Raphaël lifted his chin ever so slightly, eyes narrowing. The man sat behind his desk uncomfortably, the papers held at arm’s length, poring over them with squinted eyes through bottle-thick glasses. He rubbed the back of his neck several times, reddening the thick skin there, obviously waiting for Raphaël to answer. When he didn’t, the man continued.
“We don’t make a point to hire those young as you, Monsieur Lecuyier, but these references are…”
“I assure you, you will not regret this decision.” He reached across the table, offering his hand to shake. The man tentatively took it and-- filth pestilence disquieting uncleanliness-- Raphaël did not wince.
“I’m sure I won’t, but—“
Raphaël pulled the man closer, over the desk, looking him dead in the eye.
“I said, let me assure you,” His voice was low, tongue pronouncing every syllable with dangerous care. “Once you’ve granted me this position, you won’t want me to leave it.”
The man went rather pale, and after a moment nodded, a slow up and down bob. He slipped his hand quickly from Raphaël’s grasp, leaving Raphaël to lean back into his seat, eyes still fixed.
He stood, however, straightening his shoulders (careful, careful) and smoothing his suit. And there were no wings to hamper his movement, no halo to catch his head.
“Welcome…” The man cleared his throat, blinking, subordinate. “Welcome to the Ministry, Monsieur Lecuyier.”
→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
He was tiring, very quickly, of all of the smiling he had been forced to do as of late.
One was required to at least seem accommodating when meeting a potential future employer, and one as…. powerful as Madame Sordeau was no different.
His eyes flitted over her clasped hands and smug expression: She expected him to flounder, to stumble through his words and botch the interview. To fail. Others would, he expected, as perhaps she was rather intimidating—powerful women often were. To an extent.
He took only a moment more to gauge her, then spoke promptly. She thought herself a large fish in a small, albeit fancy, pond, and Raphaël flattered himself that he knew exactly what she wanted to hear.
“I consider discipline to be an integral part of education,” Raphaël said, crossing one leg over the other. An air of relaxation would benefit him. He let a tiny smile cut through the mask of his face. “Any student who steps out of line should be dealt with according to the gravity of their offence."
A speck of dust swam into his vision, landed on his trouser leg. He swept it away gracefully, steepling his fingers as he sat back, looking once more at Madame Sordeau.
"But let's not play," He said, tilting his head. "You know precisely why I'm here, Madame, and you know that you will hire me."
A smile.
"Won't you."
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