Silas T. Ramsey

[Silas T. Ramsey]

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Dr. Silas T. Ramsey
Gender: Male
Age: 37

Education: 
Hogwarts and Higher education in the medical field

Residence:
Mostly resides in his London apartment but has a manor in the country.

Occupation
Doctor of his own private clinic

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
Yes, he’ll be running his own private clinic/rehabilitation center.

Requested Magic Levels:

• Charms: Type your request here.10
• Divination: Type your request here.5
• Transfiguration: Type your request here.10
• Summoning: Type your request here.7

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
I will contact via PM or PC

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

A dress shirt, vest, a tie, trousers, socks, loafers, cufflinks, a straw hat, and enough starch in his shirt to make a beautiful sunny day a miserable one. Silas was a young master now. In a few years he’d attend Hogwarts. And young masters didn’t wear play clothes anymore.

Annice sat poised and at ease, As if the whalebone corset she wore was comfortable as a pillow and as pliable as a blade of grass. It couldn’t be. Not at all. He’d had snuck into her room after dinner while everyone was in the parlor and inspected one of them. She was a mystery to him even if she was always free with her words when it was just the two of them.

He rested with his back against the tree and his straw hat rested next to him, as he’d seen his older cousins and uncles do.

‘How do you manage to get Annice Evelyn’s attention, Silly? She must use you to play us all against each other.’

Their family was full of idiots. Annice knew this and knew he wasn’t one of them. That’s why he got her attention.

“Edith’s getting married. She’s lucky she doesn’t have any siblings but… poor Edith…” Annice said.

Silas gave a soft chortle, the one his father gave his mother when he wasn’t quite sure what to make of what she was saying.

“Poor Edith? She’s not poor at all,” Silas said. He watched the wisps of hair in Annice’s Gibson Girl like hairstyle move against her neck in the breeze. She had a mole on her neck she generally hid with a high collar or necklace. Silas had always wanted to touch it and see how raised the skin was there.

Annice turned her upper body too look back at him. She was a doll, perfect in everyway. She moved liked a doll, always posing and incapable of being flawed. She had told him once how much she disliked the company of other woman. Silas wondered if it was Annice or other women who disliked the other first and in turn made the feeling mutual.

“I was getting to that. I said poor Edith but she was lucky to be the only child. But wealth can hardly ever get you what you want or need,” Annice told him.

“Perhaps so, but she certainly needed a husband,” Silas smiled at his joke. He had heard Annice say something similar before. He waited to see her smile back but it never came. He felt his chest tighten as his expression fell. She didn’t seem to find it funny at all. She turned away from him and looked out at the manor house from where they sat on the estate. The walnut tree offered plenty of shade, but the clear blue sky gave way to the intensity of the afternoon sun. His collar was becoming increasing more  uncomfortable around his neck.

What had he said or done to deserve a frown? She was always a mystery to him.

“Edith was the closest female I had to a friend. Her husband lives in Wales, I won’t be able to see her. And I’ll never go to Wales, you know I won’t. It’s a dreadful place,” Annice told him.

“Weren’t you there just last month for a dinner party?” Silas scowled in thought.

“Yes, but I didn’t stay the night! No, I mentioned the duck was unlike anything I had ever tasted and returned home that night, ill,” Annice said. Unlike anything she had ever tasted… Silas knew that was never a compliment coming from his cousin. She used it often and people believed her to be sincere. It nearly killed him every time he witnessed it personally.

“You’ll understand when I get married and leave,” Annice told him so casually it almost hurt. He was quiet and very conscious of his breath entering and exiting through his nose. He couldn’t bear to see her with a man who lacked the intellect to challenge her wit. She would walk all over him and make him into a fool and he’d resent her for it. He would kill her spirit and everything that made Annice Evelyn who she was.

“What if I married you?” cousins getting married was normal, especially in wealthy pureblood families. Annice looked over her shoulder at him, her lips pouting.

“Stop it Silas,” she softly snapped at him.

“I’m much too old for you. Don’t you dare think of me that way. I’m your friend,” she told him. His heart sped up. He placed his palms down on the ground. One landed and crushed his straw hat. He stood up quickly gave one tug on his vest to straighten his clothes out.

Gracefully, and as agile as ever Annice stood up. He lifted his head, clenched his teeth, and tried to stare her down. She was tall, regal, beautiful, and emitted an energy around her that made him anxious, nervous, elated, and ashamed all at once.

He wanted to tell her everything he felt. That he dreaded the day her last name became another’s. How much he hated his cousins for even speaking her name. Silas has planned his confession of love and edited each verse over and over. He had memorized every word of it. But as he looked in her eyes it all faded away.

“I could never love you like that. You’re just a Silly boy,” She told him. There was pain in her eyes when she said it. Her fists clenched and shook in a very un-Annice Evelyn way. She looked almost like a child, like him. Who was she to say such a thing like that in such a manner? If he had blinked he would have missed her slide back into her poised and effortless manner. Her shoulders relaxed and she walked away down the hill and away from the shade of the walnut tree. He watched her until her hourglass figure was hardly recognizable. Silas shook. Silly, she had called him.

Silly.

His hat had been ruined by his rush to stand up. Mother would be unhappy he had treated it so poorly and father wouldn’t notice. He picked up the hat and turned it over in his hands. It was crushed unevenly. Silas pushed on the side that remained intact, trying to turn the rest of it inside out. After he failed to do so he repeated punched the center of it until it bent to his will. He shouted in frustration and then fell to his knees. He brought the palms of his hands to his eyes cried uncontrollably.


Roleplay: 

Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.


Roleplay Response:

“It’s the law Irene, it doesn’t matter much if you agree with it or not, now does it?” Silad adjusted his fedora as they walked through the crowd and pulled up the collar of his trench. He never quite understood why she complained if she never meant to do anything about it. Something about how she couldn’t be trifled with people who would never change. Silas liked smart women, but Irene would be smarter if she held her tongue every once in awhile.

“You know, if this Order group was more moderate we could really get some things done for this country. But they seem so far up their own-” Irene was on a rant again and Silas grimaced and put his hand around her shoulder as he led her away from a group of men who had decided to stop and talk in the middle of the streets of Diagon Alley.

Politicians never changed. Silas didn’t get upset about it anymore. Irene still had hope and faith that the men running their country weren’t as evil as they seemed. At the very least she cared and had passion. If only she could direct that passion into something more useful.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!”

Silas patience had been thinning as Irene went on. And then he heard a shout and watched a woman fail about as she reached for a shoe.

“It’s a shoe you crazy girl! Why are you in the middle of the street?” She was going to get herself hurt if she wasn’t careful. Silas stopped and took his arm off around from Irene. He felt he should help the woman but he wasn't quite sure how.



OTHER
How did you find us?
They built it and I came.

[Shepard T. Kedding]

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