Thomas Sincade [Columnist - Style]

[B. Foster]

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Thomas Sincade
Gender: Male
Age: 19

Education: 
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1967-1974 (Ravenclaw)

Residence:
The Warbling Rogue, Diagon Alley, London

Applying to be: (select one, see here)
Columnist

Department of choice: (select one)
Style

Why did you request that particular department?
It was hiring.

Requested Magic Levels: (see here on how to do this)

• Charms: 11
• Transfiguration: 7
• Divination: 6
• Summoning: 7

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Aloysius Carlisle II, Jonas Tuck, Frank Viggano Jr., Caleb Lance, Jane Montclaire

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
My name is Thomas Sincade.

I learned at a very early age that information was an important thing to have when it came to my mother's family. The Carlisles, are an old pure-blood family, with money and influence. There is very little scandal in the family, and they work rather hard to keep it that way. Either paying off those they need to, or silencing others, the Carlisle name is clean when it comes to those looking at their family history. Their reputation is everything, and my mother had used that to her advantage to be accepted back into the family after her marriage with a muggle-born wizard, was torn apart.

It had been a whirlwind romance, which a young Melissa Carlisle had begun out of rebellion and had turned into love. Love became marriage, and soon after I was born.  I was told it was bliss for the first few years as a new family. That was until the head of the family, my grandfather, Michael Carlisle decided that Melissa needed to come back to the family. It took a year or so, until my Grandfather had achieved his goal. Kenneth Sincade disappeared one night, leaving his wife, and his five year old son. I was supposed to go with my father, but it seemed that he did not want to take me, neither was my mother going to allow it.

In the end, I was accepted in the Carlisle family.

I was not all that active as a child, compared to my cousins. I was thoughtful, and I rarely spoke unless I wanted to. My relationship with my cousins was tenuous at best. I was lucky if I was ignored. My cousin Arthur did not like me in the least, and whenever he had a temper tantrum I was his favorite victim. I had to resort to violence to get him to stop. Broke his nose when I was in my fourth year, and he was in his fifth. He only resorts to contemptuous looks now, but I know if I push him correctly I can get him to get into a fight. Have not decided if I wanted that yet.

 I knew from an early age, that me being accepted into the family meant that I would have to make some sacrifices. I was informed of these in my first year of Hogwarts. One, was that I would have to change my name upon Graduation, and another was that I would have to marry who the head of the family chose for me.

I was fine with that.

Girls were of no interest to me then, and as I grew older and saw older students in relationships I found myself rather disliking myself getting emotionally attatched to someone. That was of course until Erynn stepped into the picture. She was my first kiss, is my first love, and I want to say she is my only love.

Roleplay:
Jim hated Mondays.

He had always hated Mondays, really; that cursed beginning of the week, that day where it still should have been the weekend and yet there was work to be done - deadlines to be made - stupid lunch meetings to attend.  Even when ‘lunch meetings’ had been just plain lunch; ‘work’, homework, he had despised the start of classes and - all at once - the next five un-fun days before the weekend started up again.

Now, cloudy October morning, Jim hated Mondays more than ever.

His desk filled with the wide-open arms of the Sunday Prophet, he scribbled furiously over sections with a bright red ink.

All the new graduates with their impeccable NEWTs and superb teacher recommendations had come in last month, only too eager to start preaching the truth - their truth - to the whole of Wizarding Britain.

Jim’s train of thought was bitter, but he smiled wanly, for he had once been one of those recruits themselves.

Most of their dreams should have been been smashed in the first week, from the first time people like Jim had told them to fetch the group some coffee. Day after day, hour after hour, that was what they now said to their youngest colleagues, as their older counterparts had told him years before: At some point everyone has to fetch us our drinks.

Almost every year, the new recruits sat down and took it - and fetched the group some coffee - and maybe it was just the age or the nostalgia, but Jim was fairly certain that they deserved it all.

They did not deserve to publish half-coherent drafts with way too many adverbs and completely unmodulated opinions.

Jim threw down the quill in disgust, ink splattering onto his button-down shirt as though it were blood.

Smartly, he piled up bits of paper, and then, still angry, face marred by an unhappy Monday, deposited the pile in front of his door before reaching out to grab at the first person he saw.

“What happened to this paper?”

Roleplay Response:
Thomas blinked up at the face of Jim. Narrowing his eyes at him for a moment before brushing off the offending hand.

When Thomas had thought about his future, he thought that he would be at the Ministry of Magic, working in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, in the beast division. He had taken an internship with a Dragon Research group in Romania in preparation for that, but he was now at the Daily Prophet. He had never participated in the school newspaper, neither did he have interest in writing or reading insipid gossip columns, or reviews. If he liked something, or wanted to go there he would do his own research instead of following the advice of someone else. This was a job though.

It was a job that paid out money, and he needed that if he was going to survive on his own without the support of the Carlisles.

Taking a deep breath he glanced down at the pile of papers that Jim had tossed before looking back up at him, “It seems like someone marked it with red ink.” Was his calm response. His green eyes looking back at Jim and brow raising up slightly.

“Is there any other questions I can answer for you?”

It was a job, but it seemed that Thomas was not going to do this sort of thing with a smile on his face. Neither was he going to be amicable to people that suddenly grabbed him by his shirt front, and demanded an answer to an inane question.

[G.W. Oswald]

Dear Mr. Sincade,

Congratulations, your application at the Daily Prophet has been accepted.

We  are offering you the position of Style Columnist. Please report to Miss Shore on the first floor for more information, as well as to deal with your salary and benefits, orientation scheduling, and to field any questions or concerns you might have.

Feel free to bring your own coffee.

Yours,

Editor-in-Chief