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Pax Fellwater | Charms


Pax Fellwater:

Character name: Pax M. Fellwater

Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Faye Aberdeen & Co.

Character age: 25

Character education: Hogwarts, Ravenclaw

Strength and weaknesses (details please):

Always striving to be the life of the party, Pax proves to be enthusiastic about whatever he is doing. Usually that means he's choosy about what he's doing, and if he's not enthusiastic, he's finding a way to delegate. Whatever he does end up committing to will get done with competition standard, whether he does it himself or charms a talented team into doing it for him.

He is resourceful and clever, and likes to take the lead (and the credit). He's a showman who likes attention and considers the spotlight a responsibility. All his resources go toward doing it justice. He expects the same of anyone who wants his respect, and this arrogance makes him often dismissive of those who don't seize and thrive on attention themselves. Toward them he can be aloof and neglectful, preferring to take over their work to ensure it's done to his standard. He doesn't expect everyone to be perfect, but he expects himself to be and he most engages with others who are likewise striving for excellence.

Physical description:

Pax carries himself like a man who knows just how good he looks. He is tall, standing at 6 feet 2 inches, with a lean, athletic build and a perfectly considered outfit to accentuate it. He is always well-groomed, and his copper-brown hair is his prized possession. He has warm, brown eyes that are great for getting lost, and an easy smile that's good for making promises.

Personality (nice, rude, funny etc. Paragraph please.):

Pax is the embodiment of charm. It's drips off of him. He's the kind of person who will mold himself to the good graces of peers and authorities he respects, going to great lengths to impress them. He is generally nice and easy-going, unless he's under pressure or dealing with someone who's crossed him, at which point he can become frazzled, vindictive, and manipulative, though he will try to hide it. He's a closet perfectionist that aims to appear equable.

In the classroom, Pax is generally laid-back, preferring the students to take charge of their own ambition than him forcing it onto them. Earning a reputation as a "favorite" professor is important to him, and he tries to facilitate that by making his classes entertaining and fun.

Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?:

Pax is trying to become somebody, and, at 25 he still doesn't quite know what that means. He's determined to make a name for himself, but after an unsuccessful attempt at launching his own magical hair product line, he's found himself reliant on managing the careers of budding models as his primary source of income. While the work is satisfying, the pay is not, and he doesn't have his foot quite far enough into the door to make the two match. So he's turned to other avenues seeking monetary stability and the praise of the wizarding world.

Biography (500 words minimum. There is never such a thing as too much.):

In seven years, so much could change, but then so much would not.

When Pax left Hogwarts in 1956, it was with the whole world and his life in front of him. It had been without a care. He’d done well, made friends and connections, learned so much, and if Pax wanted to, he could have chased a career in the wizarding world, earned a name with his ambition. He thought he’d learned enough, and at 17 the world was his oyster.

His naivety was somewhat understandable, for privilege and indulgence had dominated his life, with just enough adversity to validate whatever victimhood he might feel. Growing up on a farm was “humble beginnings” even though that farm was anything but “humble.” He was a halfblood, shunned into lower station among the old pureblood families, but that muggle half was an old pureblood family in its own right, and if he just gave up a little bit of magic, all that privilege could be his.

So he did. Pax pretended, and his father pretended, and paid for Pax’s galavanting lifestyle for half a decade: models, cars, parties, the works. Pax felt so impressive that he didn’t realize how unimpressed the man who had no hand in raising him, who thought the other half of his son’s life was strange and the source of eccentric behavior, had become. Pax didn’t realize this until his father unceremoniously cut him off.

It was back to those “humble” beginnings, though humility never really took hold. His mother welcomed him, of course, but she expected things of him, too. So did his aunts and uncle. So did the chickens, and Pax found himself hiding out in haystacks as he had in his youth. He found himself arguing with his uncle about chores, too, and being chastised like a fifteen-year-old again. He found himself coming up with excuses to visit London, rather than address his lack of gratitude. He made friends that could get him into parties, and met women that looked good in pictures. He made connections, and built a network. Women began asking him for advice and tips, and he thought to start charging them for it, though it wasn’t much to live by when seeking the lifestyle he’d had on his father’s dime.

Coming back to the wizarding world demonstrated to Pax his need to make his own way. If his muggle of a father could pull himself up by his bootstraps and build a fortune, then Pax could wingardium leviosa his way to the top. Coming back, however, also showed him paths to do it. He would be an entrepreneur, like his father, and he would take his passions, like his mother and their family. Thus PaxWax Hair Solutions was born.

Then promptly died.

Because work was hard, it turned out. So Pax fell into a cycle. He’d stay in London until his funds dried up, at which point he’d slink back to the farm and begrudgingly do his uncle’s bidding until he’d earned enough to march back off to London. It wasn’t sustainable. So when the chance to return to Hogwarts came in the form of a job opening, Pax forgot about that promise he’d made to himself seven years ago to never return.

After all, so much could change in seven years.

(Please respond to to this in third person past tense. Do not write the other characters' reactions. Only your own.)

It was the largest office in Hogwarts and, perhaps to students and newcomers, the most intimidating. The shelves were filled with various odds and ends, with a place of honor for the Sorting Hat, and the walls held all the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses.

In the middle of the room sat a large desk. Everything was in order, for the current occupant had always despised a messy desk. It was the sign of a messy mind, and she had always favored neatness.

A clock sat on the desk, which currently showed the time to be 2:05. The meeting was supposed to begin at 2:00 precisely.

Along with order, Anneka valued punctuality. She was a very busy woman these days. Even during the summer, she had a number of matters to attend to. Interviewing and hiring staff was only of those matters. The newest potential member of her staff wasn't making a good impression.

She paced the room, black heels clicking against the stone floor. When the door finally opened, Anneka turned, her expression reminiscent of a Russian winter. "You are late."

Explain yourself was what her face said.

Roleplay Response:

Five minutes was hardly enough to be considered fashionably late. Pax was an expert at “fashionably late.” Under normal circumstances, at least a quarter hour was needed, but he happened to be aware that “fashionably late” was not at all in Anneka Ivanova’s vernacular.

To her, five minutes was probably a personal affront, but it was the most he’d ever allotted anyone. He reasoned it was an error of translation. They spoke different languages to the world. Headmistress Ivanova spoke with authority and bent the world to her will. Pax played coy and took his time, letting the world come to him.

Still, as he made his way through these all-too-familiar halls, he found his steps quicker than normal. He stopped short of her office door, wiping his palms against his slack, and wondered whether this all had been a mistake. Who did he think he was?

The thought was gone quicker than it came, and Pax pushed into the room.

The click of her heel as she turned toward him punctuated the expression on her face. No, she probably did not find Pax timing charming, whether it was fashionable or not. His throat worked a bubble of air down with difficulty and he forced a grin to his face.

“Headmistress,” he fell into a casual tone, as if the pressure of her eyes did not make the click louder, “Please forgive my tardiness. It’s been so long since I’ve walked these halls, I’m afraid they turned me around.”

The words came easily and saying them released a tension Pax didn’t realize he was holding. By the time he reached her, hand outstretched and smiling, the ease and confidence with which he spoke and moved had become genuine.


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