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Author Topic: Nemo Georgson  (Read 698 times)

* Benjamin Maynard

    (08/08/2013 at 12:58)
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E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Nemo Georgson
Officially born as Hunter Francisco St Alabaster III

Gender: Male.
Age: 27. (29th April 1912)

Hogwarts School, Hufflepuff Dropout (just before his graduation) of ‘30.

Goodman Street 21C, Whitechapel, London, UK.
Although he tends to move a lot.

Bad boy. Criminal; Fraud. Pickpocket. Burglar. 'Handyman'. 'Errand boy'. Thief.

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?

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 9.
  • Transfiguration: 10.
  • Divination: 5.
  • Summoning: 7.
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
You know me; Ignis Fides Rivers, Salazar Ricarus, Arcus Ricardus, Loxias Ricardus Jr., Cladis Perses Gallion

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
People died twice. Once when the heart stopped beating and the blood was drained from the dead man’s face to collect itself at the back of his head. This was a shallow death because you still lived on in the words and memories of others. As long as your name would be called, you would still be there somehow. When people stopped calling your name and dropped you into the dark pits of oblivion, then you were indefinitely dead.

Hunter Francisco St Alabaster III was one of the people that was somewhat indefinitely dead.

Hunter had put his own life in the wage and had then committed suicide in the Family Vault, of all places.

It was not like anyone would care that Hunter was dead, had been his cold reasoning. It was not like someone would even raise a brow at the unfortunate demise of one of the sons of the St Alabaster Family. No one had ever been interested in the boy that followed the commands of his Father Elijah St Alabaster like a lost and helpless puppy dog.

He had just been there, following the commands as he was raised with humility and respect. He had soaked it all up and had executed the role well enough to make people believe him, but failed plenty of times behind the scenes when he simply could not remember on what side of the plate the fork was supposed to be and where on earth those little wooden stakes were for. He had been believable when he had needed to be, and had dropped the act as soon as he had been alone. When he could admit himself to be nobody.

(Because of his shortcomings as the heir that his Father would have wished for, he thought himself unworthy. Forgotten. Shut off. Unloved. Blind to all the affection and kindness he received from his Family as he drowned in egoism.)

This son had been a bit of an outcast if you considered all the other St Alabasters. Hunter had been sorted into Hufflepuff while his Family cherished a long line of Ravenclaws. But it was probably for the better, for Hunter was not capable of anything the Ravenclaw house stood for. He did not possess the brain that would contain ideas and ideals on how to get the fortune back that his Family had lost and he certainly did not have any ferocious or ambitious plans for his future.

A nitwit was all that Hunter had been, his brothers being better at everything even when they were younger than him. They were better at school and they did a better job by keeping their friends close. They were the ones that his Father would proudly claim as his own.

Not Hunter.

Not the man that did not want to tell people his name. Not the man that was more at ease when he did not have to announce his name to perfect strangers. Not the man that was better off with nicknames, the man that surrounded himself with the inferior and lower ranks of the society. The scum that wandered the planes of the earth.

It was simple, the boy had been convinced to have just existed and no one had looked at him. He had been blind for it, pitied himself while he did not have a reason for it. The dark haired boy had been a waste of breath and he would not be missed. The world was better off without him and his sin that was the very same reason that he had planned on killing himself mentally. The sin of greed and the capability to contain it quickly and easily without any resistance or with people to notice until it was too late.

And that was the exact reason that Hunter had ‘killed’ himself by robbing his Family vault. His name had not been spoken ever since that he had walked out of the vault he had robbed, and had shouldered his way through the crowds like a shadow of that what he had been. He had not been called after that, uncatchable and unattainable like the wind.

And that what he was now, was just a shade. A nobody.

Just a little nobody. A little Nemo.

Reply as your character to the following:

It was impossible for Dianne to stay out of trouble. It wasn't that she was looking for trouble, it's just that trouble always managed to find her. Today she wished she could find something equally familiar but more comforting.

The five-year old girl hugged her puffskein closer to her and brushed her face in its soft fur for comfort. She had named him herself and he was always her special pet. No she was certain she had never gone down this side street before. Her anxiety increased every second as darkness fell as she walked down the road. A loud noise came to her left and she buried her face in her pet's fur completely. The scared girl bolted the opposite way slamming the both of them into the wall of the nearest building. Tottering back a few steps she found a door a few feet to her right and ran to open it. What light there was inside spilled out into the darkness and she spilled into the room.

Once in, she was caught between the impulse to curl her cloak up more tightly around her and loosen her grip on it. She wasn't alone anymore but she was now among strangers instead, which was nearly as terrifying. Her puffskein had recovered from the shock of the wall and now was purring contentedly as the girl hugged it, causing a mildly calming effect on the girl. Gathering her courage, she marched up to the nearest person, pulled on the nearest clothing hem and blurted out in a loud voice:

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home."

She paused to draw a breath in her nearly never-ending sentence, "He misses my and his mommy."

To explain the scared girl held up the custard-colored puffskein. Sambundeakin the puffskein, however simply purred as if nothing on earth was wrong in the world.

Roleplay Response:
Apocalypse had ten letters, but the strength of the word didn’t seem to fit just ten letters. It looked like it was about to burst, the whole word. With the riders galloping through the ‘o’ and ripping the word apart. It was so fragile to catch the vengeful riders in the innocence of human tongue.

And it was even more foolish to explain the term, the word, with other words. It was the irony of explaining one word with a waterfall of others, that Nemo enjoyed so much. His dictionary was therefore his most prized possession and the only thing that he ever took with him when he moved out of a place that he had only rented for a little while.

Dwelling was for some.

Straggling for the others.
Nemo was the one to straggle, he was the one to hover about town to find a place for the night. He did have his flat, of course, concealed within the inner workings of a building, but he rarely slept there out of fear that the smart Nathaniel would come knock at his door to arrest him after all those years.

The man had settled into a chair in the back of the room, a secluded place. The shadows reached him, and only his sprawled legs found the light. Lazy blue eyes looked as the scene in front of him unraveled itself, the way that all the other people seemed to find a soon way to hell while Hunter had simply ordered a glass of milk.

He needed to be alert and fast if he had to.

And he had discovered that reading his dictionary didn’t work with a muddled brain.

Bending himself over his dictionary again, he flipped the yellowish pages quickly as he looked for another highlighted word before he felt someone tugging at his arm. His heartbeat froze in his chest as he tilted his head to look at his invader. A small child with one of those living fur balls.

(What were they called again?)

”Yeah, ya know, only fools give their pets such names.” His gaze went from the humming ball of fur to the child that looked at him like she was about to cry. ”I don’t help fools.”

Still, he shoved his glass of milk in the direction of the child, untouched, and then nodded at someone who looked far more reliable than him. Nemo wasn’t here for helping the innocents.

Only all the others.

How did you find us? And then once, sleeping beauty came at my doorstep and convinced me to join this site.

Eirwen Medraut

    (08/08/2013 at 14:39)
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