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Messages - L Azuriah

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Character Classifieds / Looking for: ITALIAN CONNECTIONS!
« on: 02/04/2014 at 06:12 »
Specifically, a Pureblood purist Italian family, to tie to waaaaaaaaaay back in the Azuriah family tree, for backstory and ridiculous prejudices. Also, plot things whenever the Italians and the Azuriahs meet, most probably.

PM/PC me for questions! And if interested!~

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Archived Applications / L Azuriah
« on: 01/04/2014 at 06:45 »

Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Caerleon L Azuriah. He really dislikes his first name; he thinks it's inapt.

Birthday: June 30, 1928

Hometown: London, UK

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration

Year (pick two): Second or Third

Biography:

L pouted and buried his face further into Yasu’s fur, not that he could go any further than an inch due to its shortness. The slightly coarse fabric tickled his nose, and he turned his face so it would brush against his cheek instead. He hugged the tiger closer to him, feeling himself getting calmer and calmer.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. They were steady and purposeful, and could only belong to one man.

L quickly stuffed Yasu (he was not a toy) back under his pillow. Grandfather did not like Yasu.

“Caerleon,” Grandfather said.

L’s eye twitched. He hoped the distance between them didn’t make it noticeable.

His grandfather stood in the doorway, looking smaller than he was due to the size of the doors, yet he still managed to loom.

This was what his older sister had idolized about Grandfather; this was why she went away.

“This has gone long enough,” Grandfather said, steely. “Two extra years is long enough for an extended private tutoring, don’t you agree?” His tone said, ‘Don’t you dare contradict me.’

L nodded, internally disagreeing.

“Good.” Grandfather seemed to square his shoulders in a way that said he wouldn’t attack – for now. “Then I shall say it again: you will be attending Hogwarts on the upcoming term. Am I understood?” His tone was harder than before, and L knew better than to argue this time, like he’d done an hour ago.

L nodded, internally seething in frustration. “Yes, Grandfather.”

Grandfather seemed to have an aura of satisfaction about him as he walked away.

L took his wand from the bedside table and passed it gently through the air. The door closed shut with a soft click. He locked the door for good measure.

He stood, and flicked the wand to open the closet doors as he approached. He started getting undressed, and dressed. Shirt and trousers off, in exchange for (he flicked his wand again to reveal his secret collection) a purple collared silk dress with lace trim (it had almost been binned, since it had not fit his older sister Caminus anymore; it would have been a terrible waste, too). He decided to skip the petticoat and stockings. He slipped the bowtie underneath the collar, and finally relaxed when it finished tying itself.

Finally, he could breathe easier.

He made sure to conceal his secret before stepping lightly towards his desk. He flicked his wand once to fetch Yasutora from his bed, once more to flip open the leatherbound notebook on his desk, and once again to dip the quill (a soft yellow to complement his dress). He brushed the velvet seat with his hand, knowing that it was clean since he was the only one who ever sat there, but one can never be too sure, and took his seat, hugging Yasu to him.

Then he began to write:

Why Private Tutoring Is Better Than Going to Hogwarts

1. There probably isn’t a very detailed Linguistics course there.

2


Footsteps sounded in the hall. They were steady and purposeful, and could only belong to one man.

L picked up his wand and waved it at his dress, mourning the loss of the feel of the silky fabric against his skin, changing it back to his former attire. He waved it a few more times to hide Yasu again, and fetch the Hogwarts letter he’d received two years ago.

Grandfather stepped into the doorway again.

L looked up from the letter.

“Also, Caerleon,” L’s eye twitched, “you will be attending this summer camp, for the school. Starting tomorrow. That is all.”

Short and to the point, nothing unnecessary, and Grandfather walked away again.

L sighed, rubbing the fabric of his bowtie between his fingers, willing his frustrated, pounding heart to calm. Then, “Pip!”

A house-elf hurried towards him. “Yessir?”

“Start packing my things.”

“Yessir.”

He turned back to the letter, not seeing the words. He rubbed the edge of his bowtie between his fingers.

“Tedious,” he muttered.

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

House Request: Ravenclaw (probably).

Personality: L was never close to his older sister, but he still shares some traits with her: like, the impulse to make sure absolutely everything is clean (though the impulse is not as strong for him), a love for pretty things, and a dislike of being looked down on or bossed around, and a preference for being the one doing so. Problem is, he's anxious about it. He's anxious about pretty much everything, actually, especially people, most especially large groups of people. When his anxiety gets so bad, he usually puts on a dress or hugs his stuffed tiger or touches his bowtie or makes a list (depending on where he is). Sometimes, he gets night terrors when the anxiety of the day got to him too much, but he rarely gets them now, much to his relief. He's never been out of the house before, since he can hide quite well from his Grandfather when he wants to, due to his slim stature. He tends to be cold and detached, but he isn't timid, though he may seem that way; he just doesn't talk much because he considers words to be precious and not to be wasted, and he doesn't socialize much either because he considers people to be tedious. His love of linguistics pretty much spurs on most of his decisions, and sometimes his knowledge of it too.

Appearance: L is fairly short for his age, slightly skinny, and lightly tanned (the only sun his skin ever sees is whenever he's sitting on the balcony, reading, which happens a lot). He has dark brown hair that he grows out, despite much scolding from his Grandfather, and blue-gray eyes that never focus on anything except blank pages, written words, or shiny things. He is never seen without a bowtie around his neck, even when he's wearing one of his dresses.

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

L disliked the Great Hall at these times; all those people, assembling in one place, and for what? Some sporting event where people have died. It was all so tedious. And, not to be redundant but, all those people in one place like that. He didn’t know whether to grimace or to shudder. He did both.

But. His stomach was demanding attention. He had skipped lunch in favor of going to the library, and he’d even planned on skipping dinner, but the sensation was distracting him from his reading.

He sighed, frustrated at his body’s tedious needs.

“Pi-” He shut his mouth. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he scowled at himself. He kept forgetting that his house-elf wasn’t supposed to do things for him at this school (something which he’d already added to his list of Hogwarts: Cons), and that he had to get his food himself. His eye twitched.

L sighed, resigned, and stood. He made sure to close and replace his book back on the stack (which was another item on the aforementioned list, as well) carefully. He checked on Yasu, making sure he was still there, unnoticed, unnoticeable. He looked at his unclear reflection in the glass of the window (also another list item) to straighten his bowtie.

Finally satisfied, he went down to the Great Hall.

The hallways were eerily silent, probably due to everyone being in the Great Hall, and he basked in it, relieved. It felt like he was home again.

"WHAT!"

L cringed. Perhaps, not entirely like home, then.

He kept walking.

There was a boy in front of the doors to the Great Hall. L scowled. “You’re in-”

"Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture!"

L’s scowl darkened. Upon closer inspection, the other boy was crying.

(Loser [LOO-zer], noun. English. A person or thing that loses or has lost something. From Middle English, losere meaning destroyer.)

“Tedious,” L muttered.

“You’re in my way,” he said curtly. “Move.”

→ ABOUT YOU.

Previous Characters (if applicable): Yvonne Dechavez & co.

How did you find us?: I followed the trail of Disney gifs.


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