THE BASICSName: Lysander Savage
Former Character's Name (if you had one): Ross & Co, Bo Madigan, Tyler Tressier, Roman Bryant
CHARACTER DETAILSHouse Request:Slytherin.
Year: Sixth, same as Hero Savage.
If not, seventh.Bloodline:Pureblood
Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning
Magical Weakness (pick one):Divination
Biography: THEN
He had never seen them as being two seperate people. Two sides of the same coin, maybe, but he saw her more as his other half. He could walk into a room, and know instinctively where she was. She was his right hand, his shadow, from the moment she had followed him into the world sixteen years ago.
Lysander Middle Name Savage and his sister, Hero, had quite an unconventional upbringing. What child wouldn't enjoy exotic animals as pets, or being able to make sandcastles on Christmas? As a child, Lysander was quiet and content: the only friend he needed was Hero, and he never needed to worry about being abandoned by her. Anywhere he went, she was there, too: the jungles of South America to uninhabited Asian islands.
It was on a Thursday night that the world as he knew it changed.
Strange that he could remember that more than anything else. It was difficult to keep track of the days when they were moving from place to place, but just earlier his mother had mentioned about expecting an owl post later that day. It stuck with him, and he'd doodled a makeshift calender in the sand later that afternoon in a vain attempt to see how many days were left until the best day of the year: their birthday. It would be the last memory of his mother that he could call up even to this day, consider that was the night she died, vanished from camp after an attack while he and his sister had been out with his father's exploration team. Herman Savage was left utterly distraught, understandably, but it manifested itself in different ways. The once outgoing and charismatic man withdrew into himself and his work. The twins were to be placed unceremoniously in the care of their great-aunt Agatha, a strict old woman who preferred that children be seen but not heard. Their names were also withdrawn from Hogwarts. Herman, who had once lived a dangerous and reckless life, now saw the twins safety as key. Hogwarts, with its unskilled witches and wizards, not to mention its somewhat bloody history, was no place for Hero and Lysander. They were to stay in London, under the watchful eye of Agatha, where no harm could reach them. The twins, with nothing but their plain black suitcases beside them, found themselves on the steps of Agatha’s Kensington lodgings no less than two weeks after the death of their mother.
His daily life had taken a drastic turn for the worst. Used to wide, open spaces, it had been a shock for the boy to be surrounded by walls. He developed a strange sense of claustrophobia, until itt finally got so bad he attempted to make a run for it during a routine trip to Diagon Alley. Agatha, old and crotchety as she was, still had amazing reflexes and he frozen mid-pace within an instant. After this instant, the troublesome two then tried to be as badly behaved as possible, becoming partners in crime in their mission to make life as hellish as it was for them now. It was Lysander's only comfort, knowing that no matter what, Hero would always be there.
Maybe that was the day their undoing began. It started as a normal evening, some time later, that Agatha tripped over the cat and fell head first into the Apothecary cabinet. This would have perhaps been unremarkable, had Agatha not earlier that day prepared a fresh batch of Anti-Tentacullus Potion which in large doses would have adverse effects. It made a rather uneventful event immediately became a rather serious one. The twins found themselves listening to the St Mungo’s nurse who explained that this was “going to take some time to undo, to put it lightly.” Agatha was not physically able to look after them and even if that had not been the case, she was rather shaken from the matter. There was nothing for it, she told Herman ferociously as a tentacle waved around on her head. The children must be sent to school! It was time that they grew to have their own lives, in her high opinion. The twins had come to rely on each other too much under her roof. It was "unnatural" for a brother and sister, she called it. Herman, who had barely seen his children in four years, simply agreed and left without another word. It was decided then: one would go to Hogwarts, the other Durmstrang. Hero would remain in Britain, Lysander would go abroad as was befitting of a young boy.
The end had come. Without even being properly sad, Hero had the indecency to actually look excited. She would be all alone, with no one to look after her, and she barely shed a tear. Lysander was furious. Fourteen years they'd barely been out of each other's sight, and she couldn't wait to leave him. He picked fights, he cried...but still she refused to fight their inevitable departure. It was then he realized how little you could count on anyone. But he would show her...He would make her realize no one would be able to replace him at that stupid school. He refused to speak to her their last day, not even to return her kiss on his cheek as he stepped into the fireplace that would take him to his new life.
As the green flames obscurred his vision, a strange thought popped into his head. It was Thursday.
NOW
There were no pictures of him in her room.
Lysander Savage prowled the perimeter as if he were an explorer newly arrived on an exotic island. Everything was different, and yet the same as when he had departed so bitterly two years ago. This room was most definetly her's. He could see her in the careless way the bag had been tossed on the bed. How she arranged her journals and collections, her school books neatly stacked on the shelf beneath them. Her touch was everywhere. And yet his absence from the room was palpable.
Lysander had made his way to a stack of photographs, looking newly developed. There was Hero, avoiding the camera with a hand blocking the shot, but you could still see hints of her smile. Smiles that used to be reserved only for their time together. He flipped casually passed pictures of others dressed in similar uniforms - red and yellow ties, the occassional green and blue. These meant nothing to him, but he lingered again on a photo of Hero and another boy in a matching yellow uniform. He removed it from the pile, discarding the others to their previous disarray.
He wanted to burn it, but instead decided to pocket it for later. Research, he reminded himself. It was as Herman and Rosalie used to be so fond of quoting before diving into a new culture. Thorough preparation makes it own luck. His parents, although he rarely thought about them these days, had been masters of blending into, incorporating their family into the nuances of new locales and villages.
With that in mind, he picked up a journal at random, and flipped through his pages. His eyes were hungry for mention of his own name, but more and more he was finding others: Edgar, Lydia. Kellen. Ellerie. More Edgar. His mouth was beginning to twist into a frown when a floorboard outside creaked. He stilled, but didn't bother putting down the book.
His back was still to the door. It could only be one person.
"Come now," He called out. His syllables were tinged only slightly with a Russian accent. "That's certainly no way to greet your brother."
SAMPLE ROLEPLAYOption II:“Oh, come now!"
Astrid Bixby’s voice carried down the corridor, the tall blonde girl not far behind. Her interviewee – or victim, depending on perspective – turned a corner and she frowned. They were always soelusive when she needed them. Sure, they would talk as if there was no tomorrow during class, but once she actually needed them to say something, they were nowhere to be found. Gryffindors.
Flustered, Astrid stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared, her parchment hanging limply from her hand. She was a good reporter, really, and she always did her best to make sure that everything she wrote was accurate. She glanced down to the quill, eyeing it with disdain. It wasn’t her fault if her quill misquoted. How was she supposed to know? It made for interesting articles, at least, and if she had misquoted the Head Boy last term as saying he had a love for stuffed animals, then that gave him personality. Astrid sighed.
A pout formed on her lips as she turned away, discouraged. The corridor was mercifully empty, though the doors to The Spellbound – the school newspaper – were ominously closed. Corbridge was a mercifully sweet editor, but Astrid was terrified of disappointing her all the same. She hadto come back with quotes.
Her eyes, blue, trailed her surroundings before choosing a new path, and she turned down a new corridor. A figure was ahead, and her eyes lit up, an impossibly rosy smile blossoming across her lips.
“Hey!” Astrid called, her voice light and singsong. She trotted to catch the person, her shoes clicking on the stone floor. “Wait up! It’s for the paper!” Her legs aided her admittedly poor running, and Astrid gasped as she came closer. “What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”
Sample Roleplay Response: They had different schedules.
He hadn't expected that, but Hogwarts wasn't exactly living up to how it thought it would be. The weather was indeed more tolerable, but he couldn't help but feel like it was beneath him. How did Hero enjoy herself here? They had been raised in with the world as their classroom, and even in Durmstrang he had found himself challenged...
“Wait up! It’s for the paper!” Here, he was interview for a school newspaper that no one would read.
Lysander leaned against the wall, stopping before entering his next class as he waited for the girl to catch up. It was out of sheer boredom that he agreed to see what she wanted. Maybe she would question him about his opinions on the Ministry's newest policies, or maybe she had some insight on those deaths Lysander had heard about all the way in Russia....
“What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”Alas.
"The legs are fine. If you close your eyes and pretend it's chicken, you'll love it. It's cow stomach that I have a hard time with. I've heard it's an acquired taste." He shrugged, wondering why he was even bothering to answer her. She smiled prettily at him, so Lysander let their shoulders brush together as the gap between them closed. Before she could open her mouth to ask him another petty question, he decided to counter with one of his own.
"Tell me...what have you heard about Hero Savage? I want to know everything."
