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Messages - Mercutio Duke

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Elsewhere Accepted / ADULT - Mercutio Tobias Duke
« on: 19/10/2014 at 09:58 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Mercutio Tobias Duke
Gender: Obviously, the masculine.
Age: Ageless since 7th October, 1921.
Blood Status: Pureblood & pedigreed. Unquestionably.

Education: 
Private Tutoring - Ages four through eleven
Hogwarts School - Graduate Gryffindor House ‘40


Residence:
Mercutio Manor (formerly, St. Werstan’s Hall), Hampshire UK

Occupation:
Investment Broker, Private Equity - Gringotts

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?
My family has many connections. Are they mine? If I wanted them, I suppose.

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 6
  • Divination: 10
  • Transfiguration: 9
  • Summoning: 7
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
One can never really cut family. Tedious as it is, it isn’t always bad to have a few strings attached. However, on this occasion, I stand alone.

Mummy would be so proud.


Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Some greek nonesuch. Laskos or some sort. I think they make carpets-- dreadfully common when it comes down to it.
Et al.


Biography:
’Dear Master Duke, esq.

We at the private the Lost & Fund for victims of Vanishing Sickness, humbly invite you to our annual charity ball occurring on Saturday next at the Oberon Parlor Rooms. Cocktails and Hors D’ouevres served. We --- ‘
The eldest son of the eldest son discarded the open, creased parchment on his dressing table. They couldn’t even write it on a heavier stock. Cheap. Even the sound of it landing, crumpled on the  polished Noir Belge sounded frail. Did no one appreciate the niceties of stationary any more? As if they were passed notes over school desks.

Not that Mercutio Duke had ever passed notes on anything but 100 percent cotton. And he certainly did not waste it on trivialities.  In cases such as that, he would not be bothered to reply. And so the letter of invitation would remain abandoned, until shepherded like an unwanted guest by a chambermaid into the waste bin. Just like the positive rubbish it was.

He ran an idle finger through artfully tousled hair, its cousin gracing the slim silver filigreed handle of his morning tea cup. Nevermind that it was nearly half past eleven. The sun brightened through the overhang of dull, hazy clouds. Perhaps he ought to go shooting that afternoon. His shot with ‘expulso’ was getting positively untidy. He, during his competitive dueling days, would have been appalled. The namesake of Sebastian Duke’s manor, breathed out leisurely, letting any other cares he might have had with it. 

With a casual flick of his thumb, he ran a grooming nail through his brow. Immaculate, always.

Yes, today he’d go shooting.

“Dewey,” he summoned, his languor curt, imperative. “Don’t lay out the morning jacket just now, I’ve decided I’m going to the range this morning. I’ll need my shooting coat.”

“Did you prefer the dove or the camel?” his valet answered from a corner of the room. Having been with the little master since the heir’s terrible twelves, Dewey was fluent in the reigning language.

Looking out again through the window and their silk taffeta dressings, the eldest Duke child considered. “Rather gray out already. I’ll wear the camel. Put a good ‘-- calideus’ spell on it would you. I’ve got the engagement at the Family Manor and I can’t be bothered by something so common as a cold.“ He was not about to be scolded like a small boy with a ruddy nose.  Now above twenty, he ought to be fully in possession of himself as much as he was of his own fortune, not to mention acknowledged as such. Whatever Marcellus had to say on the manner (a sentiment which on occasion, he had the suspicion his fathers at times shared), he was a grown man.

“No, sir,” came Dewey’s automatic reply in simple acknowledgement. Agreement was tacit.

“And for the breeches the Halliwax ones.” Coated with an enduring ‘Impervious’ concoction. Proprietary. Expensive. Mercutio did not need to clarify to his man whether he had meant the caramel or the ivory or (Merlin forgive us) the citrine and Dewey did not need to ask. Of course it was the ivory.

Roleplay: 
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option One -

Roleplay Response:
Stolling back through Diagon after a rather successful visit to a new client’s lunch parlour, it seemed like nothinp Mercutio Duke. As most things in his life, things simply fell into place, the path cleared for him of obstruction, people stepped aside to avoid his way. It seemed a universal law of nature.

That is, until a shoe tumbled haplessly scuffed about on the cobblestones until it was forced to halt before the superior sole of a particularly well-crafted oxford. Mercutio looked down at the obstruction before retrieving it from the ground. Though handled with the care of a connoiseur (and of far better quality than this particular specimen of footwear), when lifted, the heel did in fact disown its other (equally unworthy) half. Casting a look around, it was not hard to discern the heel’s tousled owner. There was a distinct tinge of regret that passed over his face like a windswept cloud. But, the shoe in hand he was already embroiled. And so, with all the honor of his condescension, he offered the his other hand to the scattered woman, much as he had her shoe. 

”Well, my dear, it isn’t any wonder you haven’t had anyone give you even the time of day.” His eyes gave a very measuring look down the woman, in an expert’s glance taking stock of her entirety. The exasperated lift to his defined, dignified brow in clear estimation that it did not amount much.  “An outfit like that and one would assume what is the point if you can’t even tell that a tweed of that shade-- never mind
the color-- will only ever sallow you out?”

M.Duke, on the other hand (gloved, Veles 1940 Fall), was dressed to expectation. His single buttoned jacket in Catalina blue with tiger’s eye buttons and personally tailored by his well-capable valet gave tightly maintained form to his well maintained frame. Slim as a young man of business and incontestably smart in a suit, he still had his duellist shoulders. The blue gave depth to the ice of his eyes and heightened the hale tone of his skin. In his completeness he stood apart from the general raff of the wizards and witches around him. As much as he may have deplored the lack of such precision in others, the distinction was singularly gratifying.

He was a young man in his prime.


OTHER
How did you find us? Word gets around, thought I’d dabble just to say I’d done it.  You know what they say about hype, and temptation is the one thing I can’t resist.

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