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Archived Applications / Atlas Undergove
« on: 05/08/2021 at 18:02 »

Application for Hogwarts School


→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Atlas Undergrove

Birthday: 19 April 1952 (11)

Hometown: Virginia Water, Surrey, UK

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): 1st (preferred) or 2nd

Biography:
Atlas Undergrove was born as much out of necessity as he was desire. His parents wanted a child, but they needed one just as much as they wanted one. They needed to ensure that their name, their status, their position in the upper class world of Virginia Water would be retained long after they had ceased to be a part of the world of the living. Atlas fit the bill perfectly, being born a healthy male. His destiny was written from the moment he took his first breath, though he would not know his significance for many years, and he would never quite come to care.

Atlas was raised as most privileged purebloods were. Learning to walk, talk, read, and think in the long and winding corridors of the Undergrove’s manor, Evermore, he was brought up to value his blood and value the name his family carried. He attended his first soiree when he was two, saw the inside of his parents’ cavernous vault at three, and received his first top of the line broomstick at the age of four. However, much to his parents' chagrin, Atlas expressed no interest. No, he found himself far more interested in his books, in his pillow and blanket forts, in napping in the window sills of the giant vaulted windows, and climbing up the ancient tapestries that hung all over the manor to see what little pictures were tucked away at the top of the artist’s work.

His parents worry deeply for their son as he is far from the social creature that most respectable purebloods are. They simply cannot see him sitting on the Wizengamot one day, or standing to deliver a toast in front of a party, or speaking to a government official to ensure the family interests would be retained. All they could see him doing was blending in and living a quiet life, and it scares them deeply. But Atlas remains oblivious to their fear.

Atlas lives most of his life in his own head. His books have helped him to build an entire world in his mind where he is a character in an ever expanding adventure. He daydreams from the moment he awakens to the moment he goes to sleep, and then he dreams some more. His comfort with where he is now has left him uninterested in Hogwarts. His parents have insisted he prepare as it is every upstanding wizard’s duty to be educated, but Atlas remains skeptical of the ancient school. He is going along most unwillingly and does not look at the seven years that lay before him with any shadow of fondness.

Atlas’ solitude has never been a problem for him before as it has been a self imposed exile. Moving into a castle full of life and activity is the opposite of the life Atlas has imagined for himself, and he has not quite figured out how to swallow such a bitter pill. No amount of daydreaming can remove him from the prison of the castle and no amount of trying will allow him peace and quiet and solitude.

Hogwarts may be ready for Atlas Undergrove, but Atlas Undergrove is painfully unready for Hogwarts. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Ravenclaw, but could be left up to the hat as well!

Personality:
Atlas is prickly, particular, and more set in his ways than an 11 year old should be. He's quiet at first, but once he gets to be more comfortable with you, you'll be put to the litmus test of how long you can stand his nitpicking. He isn't shy about saying when he thinks something's not worth his time and not worthy of interest. He much prefers his books, his pillow forts, and his imagination. But, deep down, what he wants more than anything is friendship but he has no idea how to make that happen.

Appearance:
Atlas is small, even for his age. He hasn't hit a single notable growth spurt yet, standing at no more than about 4 feet 10 inches. He is skinny and lanky, with his legs and arms being quite long. His hair ia a bit longer than his parents would really care for, but they don't push it as he keeps it neat and tidy. Atlas has blue eyes which he gets from his father though like his father, it's expected for this color to darken further out of being such a light blue as he gets a little older.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.

Option I:

The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet travelled since her arrival at Hogwarts.

A place she really was just fine with not knowing; but it was too late. The dare had been accepted, even if it had been done in fear of being kicked out of Gryffindor, like the older girls had said she would because Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.

The air changed instantly when she hit the main corridor of the dungeons. The dampness was almost too much for her and she instinctively took a deep breath to avoid the sensation of being suffocated. There was also a sour burning smell which Evangeline assumed was from many, many Potions lessons.

Further and further she walked, her steps so slow and gentle they made no noise against the stone walls and floor. The feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine and raised the tiny hair on the back of her neck. Shivering, Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she missed the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room. The fire was always going and it made her feel at ease.

Why had she let those girls talk her into this? She was only eleven, she didn't have to be brave. Surely the Headmistress would not kick her out of Hogwarts for not being brave.

If only she had these thoughts while being dared to search for the ghost of one Emma Birch, whom supposedly haunted the dungeons. It was not, Evangeline had learned, the place where the sixteen-year-old girl's life had ended but as she had been from the house with a snake as its mascot, it was the place her spirit had returned to. That common room was down here somewhere, she'd been told.

Something - the small blonde girl wasn't quite sure what - but something made her stop in her tracks suddenly. There was a low, dull thumping noise. Or maybe that was her heart beating so loudly she thought it was coming from outside her body.

"H-h-hello?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Remembering that she was supposed to be brave, Evangeline tried again.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

The sound of her own words bouncing back at her off the walls made her jump.


"I'd never go down into those smelly old dungeons, no matter how much chocolate was up for grabs!"

Atlas had made that declaration so confidently that night when the boys in the common room starting daring each other to do all sorts of stupid things. Yet, there he was walking down the staircase to the Slytherin lair. He certainly was not enjoying playing the game, but his sweet tooth seemed to guide his brain when all of the chocolate had been placed on the table. Now here he was in search of some stupid ghost, all for some bars of candy he could write home for any time he wanted.

He'd never been down here before and once his foot had stepped off the last step into the dungeons, he knew why. It was cold, it smelled, it felt like a place where no human should be yet there was an entire house crammed down here. Mumbling curses to himself, Atlas walked down the corridor, eyes darting from left to right in search of anything that looked like a ghost.

He wasn't trying to be quiet, anyone around could hear him. It seemed that however or...whatever...was down here with him wasn't trying either as the sounds of movement that was not his own echoed down the walkway. His nerves were alight, but he kept walking. How bad could it be? Surely the headmistress would never allow something genuinely dangerous to be down there waiting for the students.

However, those little assurances fled his mind when a voice cut out from the darkness, asking if he was Emma Birch. The name was that of the ghost he'd been sent down there to find. Pressing himself up against the wall, Atlas took baited breaths. Was this Emma talking to him, trying to trick him? Was she trying to spring some sort of trap?

He had to think fast.

Lowering his voice as deep as it could go, he said "No..this...ah...Colonel Plisken. I'm the head ghost in charge of these dungeons. Who goes there?"

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Timothy Winchester, Edmund Whiteclaw, Christopher Beckett

How did you find us?: Topsites

2
Elsewhere Accepted / Atlas Undergrove | Elsewhere Child
« on: 04/07/2021 at 05:01 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name:
Atlas Undergrove

Gender:
Male

Age:
11 (19 April 1952)

Bloodline:
Pureblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Apollo Undergrove
Willow Undergrove

Residence:
Virginia Water, Surrey, UK

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
No

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Timothy Winchester
Edmund Whiteclaw
Christopher Beckett

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Atlas Undergrove was born as much out of necessity as he was desire. His parents wanted a child, but they needed one just as much as they wanted one. They needed to ensure that their name, their status, their position in the upper class world of Virginia Water would be retained long after they had ceased to be a part of the world of the living. Atlas fit the bill perfectly, being born a healthy male. His destiny was written from the moment he took his first breath, though he would not know his significance for many years, and he would never quite come to care.

Atlas was raised as most privileged purebloods were. Learning to walk, talk, read, and think in the long and winding corridors of the Undergrove’s manor, Evermore, he was brought up to value his blood and value the name his family carried. He attended his first soiree when he was two, saw the inside of his parents’ cavernous vault at three, and received his first top of the line broomstick at the age of four. However, much to his parents' chagrin, Atlas expressed no interest. No, he found himself far more interested in his books, in his pillow and blanket forts, in napping in the window sills of the giant vaulted windows, and climbing up the ancient tapestries that hung all over the manor to see what little pictures were tucked away at the top of the artist’s work.

His parents worry deeply for their son as he is far from the social creature that most respectable purebloods are. They simply cannot see him sitting on the Wizengamot one day, or standing to deliver a toast in front of a party, or speaking to a government official to ensure the family interests would be retained. All they could see him doing was blending in and living a quiet life, and it scares them deeply. But Atlas remains oblivious to their fear.

Atlas lives most of his life in his own head. His books have helped him to build an entire world in his mind where he is a character in an ever expanding adventure. He daydreams from the moment he awakens to the moment he goes to sleep, and then he dreams some more. His comfort with where he is now has left him uninterested in Hogwarts. His parents have insisted he prepare as it is every upstanding wizard’s duty to be educated, but Atlas remains skeptical of the ancient school. He is going along most unwillingly and does not look at the seven years that lay before him with any shadow of fondness.

Atlas’ solitude has never been a problem for him before as it has been a self imposed exile. Moving into a castle full of life and activity is the opposite of the life Atlas has imagined for himself, and he has not quite figured out how to swallow such a bitter pill. No amount of daydreaming can remove him from the prison of the castle and no amount of trying will allow him peace and quiet and solitude.

Hogwarts may be ready for Atlas Undergrove, but Atlas Undergrove is painfully unready for Hogwarts. 

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:

Godric Park was a great escape for most, but a prison for Atlas.

What interest should he have in a place so overrun with throngs of people making such noise? He couldn’t even think, let alone focus on the adventure that rested in his hands pressed between two worn covers. He was not here by choice, that was for certain. No, he was here because his mother’s get together with her old school friends at the swanky little cafe was running far beyond the promised conclusion time. She’d sent Atlas off to “play” so as to not bother them or stifle their conversations. He of course had a book in hand and had every intention of finding a hidden place to read, but no such place existed. Everywhere he looked was occupied by some slump talking much too loud, saying nothing worth hearing.

He took a seat on a bench in the park in a huff, unsatisfied but with nowhere better to be. He’d opened and closed the book at least half a dozen times but not a word had been read. Something or someone always broke him from the small bit of concentration that he’d managed to procure for himself. He was giving the book another try when the barking, demanding whine of a nameless source called out in his direction.

”You! Do you want to play?”

Atlas stared at her for a moment, no words even approaching the cusp of his lips. He wanted to tell her to shuffle away back to where she came, but he could not form the words in his throat. She expected an answer, and he simply didn’t have one. So, he met her in the middle and shook his head no. He was not about to get roped into playing Quidditch with a bunch of rough housing older boys and a stuffy, huffy little girl.

Who did they think he was?

OTHER
Originally found you on Google!


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