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Messages - Jarvis Ricardus

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Elsewhere Accepted / Jarvis Ricardus
« on: 10/05/2013 at 19:54 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Jarvis Ricardus.
Gender: Male.
Age: 34 (born 16 November 1903).

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Slytherin '22.

Ricardus Hall, outside Freethorpe, Norfolk, United Kingdom.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank - Security.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place?

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 12.
  • Transfiguration: 6.
  • Divination: 6.
  • Summoning: 8.
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Only the Ricardus family.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Some said children was a joy, others said they were a duty. And to some people everything that you did was part of a competition, part of a game in which you had to make yourself important to the world.

So he did. He had done everything that he'd ever been told, taken his fair share of what anyone could expect as being part of the Ricardi. And now he waited, for he didn't feel like watching his wife being turned inside-out, could hear plenty of sounds, of yells, from his position in the parlour, knowing exactly what was going on.

Producing babies had always been a bloody business.

Most of all Jarvis just wanted to inspire some sort of pride in that cold soul of his father, feeling that childish want for recognition. In a family as big as theirs they had to fight for the attention, always, and it hadn't stopped when they'd grown up.

Still had he forgotten it all the first time they reached him his own baby, pink and screaming and ugly, but still his own,
his work.

The second time had been a little less glorious, for he knew what avaited him of sleepless  nights and toddler messes.

The third time he'd looked at the girl, thoughtful, brows furrowed, for he knew what his brother thought behind his back. Ainia, exhausted, didn't get that same glance, holding their daughter in her arms, looking up expectantly.

He didn't give her any more attention than they gave him.

He did what he had to do. And sometimes a little more, for even the coldest of men found comfort in the warmth of a woman sometimes. But he let her know that she should never expect anything - Jarvis didn't let his woman order him around, and nobody would ever think that he did, least of all his family.

The forth time they tried to reach him a girl an inkwell went flying, smashing to spread its contents on a silky wall, and perhaps they should've been happy there hadn't been anything bigger in his immediate surroundings. His three daughters hid under the table, because they knew that they should never be in his way when father got angry. By all means, he treated them well, with all the respect that daughters of his own person deserved to be treated, but his brother was spewing sons, and Loxias was winning yet another of their games.

All three of them were commanded to go to their rooms, of course, and they obeyed at once, without a word. There had never been any lack of discipline at Ricardus Hall, and even if he'd wanted to soften it wouldn't happen, because the walls had ears and he knew all to well that any softness was directly translated to weakness.

It was the translation he made himself. The one he'd learned to make.

The world was a cursed place, unfair, Jarvis must have been jinxed at his birth. Always a step behind, always frustratedly pulling at every available string, involved when he could, but superfluous.

Third born third served.

It was the way the world worked and still he reached out for them, the stars, twinkling high above. He had wanted to be the sun, and now he found himself in the eternal shadow of his father and his brothers, draped upon the world in heavy folds. It was a hostile darkness and a dangerous game, yet he found himself staring out the window at night, caring too much when those surrounding him seemed to feel nothing at all.

His wife had reached out for him and he turned around underneath the sheets, facing the cold wall. He stayed for another half an hour, before leaving her completely on her own, pregnant for the fifth time and helplessly alone.

He left her for a glass of firewhiskey, for the peaceful solitude of the night when the world seemed to calm down for just a moment before life itself exploded in a new day.

The glory of the rising sun upon the horizon.

Some men were born thinkers, others were born talkers, and he seemed to be both. But to say what you thought was deemed a crime, he knew it, but still he had to do it, stealing the attention for just a second, to feel their eyes upon him, cold and ungrateful.

Basking in the light when it was possible - that was the law of the opportunist.

And some men were born rulers...

But he'd get there. One day would he get there.

One day...

Roleplay Response:
He waited, was always waiting - for his life, for time to pass, for something interesting to show up. The place wasn't up to his standards and Jarvis found himself wrinkling his nose at more than the interior. There was a smell, some ungodly smell that left him feel lower, lesser, than he was supposed to be, reeking from somewhere behind the bar.

Whatever they hid behind there he would never have ordered his food anywhere near this place. Luckily the drinks were poured from bottles and didn't appear from some mysterious whole in the floor.

They probably kept him waiting here on purpose.

A finger pointed to his empty glass, and a young waitress hurried over and refilled the golden liquid, smile faltering when she saw the cold blue eyes lingering at her. Jarvis was never able to terrify people like his brother was, but it wasn't in his interest to do so either - he didn't find satisfaction in knowing he sent a chill down their spines.

He just wanted them to know their place.

Although he liked the attention, the nervous blush in her cheeks as she asked whether there was anything else he'd like. He just told her to put it on his tab, and she scurried off again.

Then there was something entirely different. The pulling of his robes caught his attention, but he felt himself backing slowly in the chair, glaring at the hairy creature that was reached out for him.

Without saying anything at all he got out of the chair on the other side, moving over to the bar with a few long, annoyed, steps, and stole the attention back from the waitress that had just served him.

He pointed at the problem with a finger, obviously offended by the fact that they were letting the rats wander about the place unattended. He didn't care where the girl came from or where she was going. Or that she was lost - he wasn't going to take her anywhere.

"Fix it," was the simple command.

Hopefully they could at least give him that much service in this place..

How did you find us? Can't remember...

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