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Elsewhere Accepted / Miguel Ibarra || Elsewhere Adult
« on: 24/06/2021 at 22:18 »
E L S E W H E R E A D U L T
CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Miguel Ibarra
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Blood Status: Muggleborn
Education:
Hogwarts - Gryffindor, graduate of 1950?
Residence:
Typically resides upon the merchant vessel he commands, whether at port or at sea
Occupation:
Captain &
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?
No
Requested Magic Levels:
- Charms: 7
- Divination: 9
- 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?
Nope.
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Eviguin Lackless, Tippa Lackless, Muriel Hollybarrow, Oxford Emerson.
Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Miguel Ibarra saw the world in shades of grey.
Blessed with remarkable insight, the man eschewed the oppressive binary of good and evil, black and white, right and wrong. An individual chooses self-restriction for no good reason when adhering to such judgment of action.
Intention mattered to a wizard. It amazed him how few of his kind seemed to apply the same concept to other areas of life. Most saw intent as important for magic, without applying the perspective more holistically to the evaluation of character.
Did Miguel act in ways which knowingly harm or disrespect other persons? Of course not. But nor did he flee from the potential of harm simply because the risk is present. Why carry a wand, then, if it may facilitate curses of injury and suffering? Why carry healing potions if in excess they contradict their original intent?
For that matter, why carry anything at all?
By trade, Miguel didn't bother with such stipulations because he, or more literally, his ship, carried goods with potential for whatever the intent. Responsibility for said intent should be attributed to the one who uses the goods, not the one who acquires, transports and sells them.
It was important for Miguel to muse on the moral justification of his profession with some frequency, usually as he supervised the crew of his modest merchant vessel. Hands at the helm, spine straight, knees yielding to the suggestion of each rolling wave, Captain Ibarra spat over the starboard side in a gesture which owed more to habit and social influence than to superstition. If he were a superstitious man, as sailors often were, he might be warding off whatever bad luck clung to his cargo.
There were more critical titles to describe the work he performed, but he preferred to think of himself as a middleman. A facilitator. Miguel purchased his goods fair and square with legitimate coin and sold it the same way. If they changed hands in illegal circumstances prior to entering his possession... well, Captain Ibarra obviously didn't know about those circumstances, or else he would not have engaged in the transaction.
Most knew Miguel as a merchant. Few knew the details about his business dealings. Even fewer knew anything personal about the man, who enjoyed the shroud of outrageous rumours he himself had disseminated: He's taken a dozen wives in some countries and a dozen husbands in others. Half of Portugal could carry his name, if only he'd shared it as well as he shared his attentions. He sleeps only two hours a night, one eye at a time. You wouldn't believe the size of his --
"Gybe ho!" the man called suddenly, echoed gruffly by the most attentive of his crew. "All hands on deck!"
With all his considerable attention turned to the sudden challenge of the sea, he grinned into the fickle wind.
Roleplay:
Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.
“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“
Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.
Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.
She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.
Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.
“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.
Roleplay Response:
Miguel Ibarra, Captain of the Santa Teresa, had once dreamed longingly of hero opportunities. As a child, waving a wooden stick threateningly at sheet-covered chairs in defense of the helpless damsel (his mother) gave him notions of triumph and renown.
Many years later, he considered himself rather disillusioned, because being a hero required much more work and difficult choices than the stories suggested. Renown, he'd found in a different way, and triumph accompanied much subtler endeavors. Truth be told, he enjoyed the company of smiling and confident women. They were usually far less trouble than the ones in distress.
So when the cry caught his ears, a plea to stop him in his tracks, he hesitated.
And then acted.
Notions or no, Miguel could not in good conscience ignore a call for help, even if he did need to heave a sigh about it first. A sharp sailor's eye caught the flash of red hair between busy bodies passing by, ignoring her plight. Miguel wedged himself, half kneeling, against the flow of foot traffic.
"Here," he offered and extended his hand to the fallen woman.
OTHER
How did you find us? Originally a reference, many years ago.
