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Archived Applications / Pax Fellwater | Charms
« on: 15/08/2021 at 15:29 »

CHARACTER INFORMATION
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.

SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
(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.

2
Archived Applications / Pax Fellwater
« on: 21/08/2017 at 00:10 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Pax Fellwater

Birthday: June 26, 1938

Hometown: London, Bristol

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration

Year (pick two): Third, First

Biography:
Five girls surrounded the beautiful boy, their soft fingers dancing across the fine seems of his clothes, picking away any loose strings, smoothing away the wrinkles, setting the thick mop of his hair so it would sit more attractively. Pax preened, enjoying every pampered moment. He had grown to love this ritual attention.

“Don’t forget to pack them emerald robes, they catch the flecks in your eyes!” motherly Maia beamed.

Vega nodded, “If you manage gettin’ away to Diagon Alley while you’re there, be sure to check out the broomsticks! I heard they’re experimentin’ with some new models.”

“Do you remember that charm to keep your cheeks rosy?” her sister Nashira added.

Alba giggled declaring that spell was only for girls, “Want me to paint your lips and eyes, too?” she teased.

Pax ignored her, but smiled at the joke. His participation in the conversation was not necessary if they could pick his dress and tidy him. And today was a travel day for the boy, a special occasion.

Pax’s mother, Fiona was the youngest of Clementine Fellwater’s four daughters, and those women were closer-knit than Egyptian cotton. They were women of the ‘70’s and everything from their bright garb to the loose way they wore their hair screamed it. They’d all had quite the time adjusting to the era at the end of the timeslip. There was no color in this new world. Fiona especially, the youngest of them and most spirited, fought hard against new social norms.

The women banded together out of convenience and necessity, intent on keeping their carefree lifestyles at least with each other, raising their families together. Fiona was unmarried and Magda, the eldest divorced. Diane and Sheila were both married, though one to a muggle (whose farm they’d retreated to in the worst parts of the ‘40s) and the other into a very old pureblood family. They were undoubtedly an odd bunch, but between the sisters war and disaster and necessity had fostered a fierce loyalty, despite uneven ideologies. And the children had been growing together seemingly as closely.

“When will you be back?” little Rana asked tentatively.

“I’ll only be gone a month, silly. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone,” but Pax gifted her with a glance, “Besides, Aunt Sheila will be here by then and you’ll have even more cousins to distract you. Think of it as trading one for three.”

“Four. Granny’s coming, too!” Vega reminded.

“Yeah, but you’re more fun than all of them,” Alba mumbled too loudly. Maia fixed her with an admonishing look.

“They’re our cousins, Alba. Don’t be wicked. ‘Sides, me and them are the oldest of us,” she gestured meaning the cousins. “We got more to worry about than entertainin’ all of yo--OH!”

Feathers flew and mad giggles burst into the air as Alba lobbed a pillow into her elder cousin’s face.

In truth, Pax wasn’t sure he was ready for the next month, even though he’d be blessedly free from Danny. Danny, his cousin, the older boy. It was only Danny, Pax and Apollo for the boys in their gaggle. Apollo was only six, too young to be more than bothersome, too old to be cute about it. But Danny was going to be a seventh year this coming term. Danny was a responsible boy near grown. Danny the know-it-all, who could tell you so much about the muggle war, and had assured Pax, when the younger had approached him after finally getting some answers about his father’s identity, that he probably didn’t need to worry about it too much because all the muggles were killing each other anyway. Danny had been Pax’s mother’s hopeful male role model for her son. Unfortunately, the boys hadn’t taken to each other.

Despite Danny’s imminent arrival, Pax thought he might prefer to stay. At least the girls would be here, and there were plenty more of them than Danny, who did his best to avoid them. But, instead Pax would be spending July with his father, a man who had indeed survived the war, but who Pax barely knew. In fact, Robert Warren Baker had only learned of his son’s existence four years prior, when Fiona had decided to finally cave to Pax’s insistence for information.

To Fiona Fellwater’s credit, there had been a great many barriers and unusual circumstances which made the secret understandable, if still unfortunate, though the only reasons Mr. Baker knew of were his war service and the circumstance of his prior marriage. Mr. Baker did not know about the secret, magical world Miss Fellwater belonged to nor the strange, temporal phenomenon her people had been a victim of. Fiona had been unaware of the distinguished sailor’s wife, though her ignorance had not lasted. Pregnant and ashamed of her own vulnerability, she’d ended the affair without word or warning, and denied the conniving hooligan even the knowledge of his son or where his mistress had vanished to. When the war picked up, she and two of her sisters fled to the country home of a third, where most of them still lived. More and more isolated, keeping the secret that was Pax became less an effort and more a habit.

Like her ignorance, though, Fiona’s spite eventually faded. And when her bright son began pestering about his mysterious origins, she found she didn’t have the heart to hide the truth from Pax, no matter how she wished to keep it from his father.

Pax met Robert first when he was nine, at the man’s office because Millie, his wife, was not yet privy to the situation. Mr. Baker’s secretary, Janice, however could hear the argument between her boss and Fiona soak through the walls and door just as clearly as Pax, and her face seemed as drawn and pale as Pax imagined Millie’s would have been. Curious.

It was the following summer, when Pax was 10 and after Millie had been included, that Pax spent his first summer. And he’d kept the tradition the past two summers as well. Now, it seemed, the trip had become an annual ritual.

But it was always uncomfortable. Strangely, not because of Millie. Though her iciness toward her husband would persist across the summers, she would not leave him, and a lack of children of her own made her oddly accepting of Pax. They bonded surprisingly well. Unlike Pax and Robert.

Mr. Baker was a manufacturer, a hard-worker and an ex-Commander of the Royal Navy. He believed in productivity and the strength of a man’s hands and character. He took Pax every day for the first week to the factory where he and his brother manufactured avionics equipment. The war had sent the industry skyrocketing. But Pax hated it there. It was impossible to stay clean. He clothes would wrinkle and stain as fine metal dust and dirt mixed with his sweat and sketched gritty lines everywhere the fabric creased. It settled under his fingernails and in the creases of his nostrils. And the noise was atrocious. The vibrations of the machines would buzz in his ears and his bones for hours. Returning home, he would bathe for an hour. He once overheard his father wondering aloud to Millie what business a boy had investing so much time and hot water to being pretty.

Pax also had to hide that he was a wizard. Neither Robert nor Millie were aware of his abilities, and maintaining the lies could be exhausting. The boy lavished in his relief as his father’s rigorous work routine distracted him from the son so different from him. Instead, Millie and he would go out. Or just he would go out. Millie did turn out to be much more lax than Fiona about the boy’s independence. A socialite herself, Mrs. Baker was only too happy to endorse his city education. Sometimes she’d take him to fancy luncheons or dinner parties, sometimes to the cinema, sometimes to a friend’s house to listen to a radio broadcast. Other times, they’d ridden the train just so Pax could see the city a “different way” Millie had said. Mostly he enjoyed these muggle outings. They had a different kind of magic to them.

London became his back yard, and with a great deal of time to himself, Pax could find relief from the drab holiday, sometimes even sneaking off to Diagon Alley. This had been especially enjoyable since he’d started attending Hogwarts, when closeby friends made prospects more interesting.

“Will you bring me something special back from London?” sweet Rana asked again. She even more than the others had a special affection for Pax.

“Ha! Then I’d have to bring something special back for everyone! By that time it’ll be you four,” he gestured to the young girl and her three sisters, “Alba’s lot,” another three, “plus Val, Danny and Beth!”

On cue all the girls began twittering affectionately, sighs of “Don’t worry ‘bout us!” “We don’t need nuthin’!” and “Think about yourself, lover!”

“We’ll all be going before September, anyway!” Maia finished pleasantly. Rana’s face fell a little, but Pax touched her gently while the others distracted themselves with talk of the new robes they’d get. He winked at her, and she knew he wouldn’t forget her.


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

House Request: Ravenclaw, Slytherin

Personality: Pax is whirl of dualities. At once aloof and focused, affectionate and distant, obsessive and indifferent. Unquestionably he is opportunistic, and maybe an overarching sense of survival has made the most appropriate description of him “adaptable”.

Fiona was undoubtedly his primary role model. She instilled in him a fierce curiosity and a will to match it. These features sometimes battle each other, however. His curiosity can drive him in several directions at once, and in these times Pax feels crippling indecision. However, when they work together, the boy possesses a focus that ensures he’ll find a way to get whatever he’s finally decided he wants.

Being raised in the company of so many women, Pax has come to love being loved. As his cousins and aunts dote on him, he indulges their affections. He is materialistic and vain, but observant. They also taught him (though, maybe not intentionally) the subtle art of social warfare--how important it is to read between the words someone is speaking and how to weave hidden messages into his own. Sometimes this and his creative streak bring forth a compulsion for mis-truth.

But while he craves and will seek this affection, it is a lack of close male relationships that often keeps him from reciprocating. He is kind and happy and most comfortable spending time with women, but he does not fully relate to them. He is less confident and social around men, and had trouble building relationships with other boys. Because of this, Pax often feels alone, though he’s grown very skilled at hiding it. He is competitive, but does not like open confrontation without knowing that he can win. His smaller frame has turned him toward relying more on wit and resourcefulness than physical strength to gain an upperhand.

Appearance: Pax is lean and fit, though not athletic. He is often called “pretty”. His features are delicate with a heart-shaped face, dirty blonde hair, and almond eyes the color of chocolate.



→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.

Option 2:

That rat of his was in for it now.

The gray little rascal had disappeared from his clutches at breakfast. Again.

Before Hugh even knew what was happening, Merlin had shot across the floor, somehow managing to avoid all the feet walking across the hall and had escaped through the open doors.

Which meant that Hugh was now stomping through rows of flowers and other various flora, searching for the small creature. It was like the rat knew Hugh was allergic to most flowers. Merlin always chose to run to the gardens whenever he got away from Hugh. It was as if the rat did not want to have him for an owner.

Hugh had named his pet Merlin because he had hoped the powerful name would give the rat more incentive to be more than a rat. Not that he expected Merlin to change into a wizard or anything, but rats were just so...useless, for the most part. With a name like Merlin, Hugh thought it might give the rat purpose.

The only purpose Merlin seemed to have was getting away from Hugh as often as possible.

As the fifth year trudged into the second row of flowers, not taking much care to avoid trampling the first row, he felt the first sneeze building up pressure in his nose and behind his eyes.

"You blasted rat! Where are you?"

He pulled apart a section of bright red flowers; he didn't know what they were called because he despised flowers, and ducked his head low to peer into the depths of the flowerbed. It was moving closer in proximity to the flowers that finally did it. Hugh took in three great breaths and then let out an almighty sneeze. It was strong enough to disturb some of the dirt on the ground before him.

Groaning, he stood up again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It was as he was turning his head, his nose running up and down his arm, that movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Normally one who preferred to put his best face forward, Hugh was a bit embarrassed to be caught wiping his runny nose on his robes.

Nevertheless, Hugh put on his best haughty voice. albeit a bit thickly with his plugged nose and said, "Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."

__

“Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare.”

Seriously?! Pax thought to himself. Who could help staring at such a spectacle? The boy had come careening into the peace of the gardens, chasing some specter, tramping the marigolds, the daisies, the tulips  without a care, and spewing his snot and refuse all over the warm air. Could he help Pax with something? It was highly doubtful.

Although, Pax thought the bigger boy looked like he could afford assistance.

Pax had to choke back a haughty retort, or maybe laughter. This boy was older than him, and larger. It would not do to get himself in a situation he couldn’t scrap out of. Instead, he put a mask of well-practiced indifference on, touched with just the ghost of a grin, and closed the book he’d been reading before being interrupted.

“I think I’ve got the reading down, but if your creature has wandered into somewhere tight, someone smaller might come in handy,” and he stood to his average height, beaming and covertly eyeballing the arm which had served as a tissue, ensuring it came nowhere near him. This bumbling boy would be out here shouting and sneezing and trampling so much longer without the help, and if Pax could get this over with quickly, he might have time to get back to his novel.


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