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Messages - Tobias Jeffries

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Elsewhere Accepted / Tobias Jeffries
« on: 17/04/2015 at 17:42 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Tobias Anselm Jeffries
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Blood Status: Pureblood (will register as Halfblood)



Paper pusher or something equally mundane - Gringotts. (Could the subbie say 'German Defector', please? <3)

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?
Not yeeeet.

Requested Magic Levels:
  • Charms: 8
  • Divination: 7
  • Transfiguration: 6
  • Summoning: 11
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Lars Jeffries (son)

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Viola Vane & clown car.


He must have said a thousand times what an adventure it was going to be, to pick up and move. Lars had either believed him or played along, and Tobias wasn't sure that he cared one way or the other.

He was simply happy to be out.

Home life had been everything he'd never thought he would want - peaceful, fulfilling, bordering on mundane. His fifteen-year-old self would have hated him for it, but he'd made his peace with that long ago. After all, falling in love with a muggle had been an accident.

(Yes, really.)

Others would call it fate if they wished - for he would not have been in Berlin that day except to check on his lone research project there, and quite unexpectedly, too. Nicole had been a student at the university where the rest of his team was stationed (—secretly, of course, away from the eyes of muggle staff and students; rather clever to use a university, if you asked him—), and he'd only recently realized how terribly odd it was that she had been attending university in the first place, in 1926. Further studies of her produced desirable results, including a wedding and a child, forcing him to craft exceedingly vague descriptions of his work for secrecy's sake.

And then - there was the matter of his work itself.

It was inconceivable to him that Germany's obliviators managed to find every muggle who happened to stumble upon what used to be the most safely hidden corners of their society. Even Tobias, who had studied barrier magic his entire career, was forced to uproot his family - what was left of it, for Nicci was gone - from their home in search of a stable, muggle house.

And he conceded that what happened next was mostly due to the fact that he'd succumbed to his anger, to his and his countrymen's craving for vengeance. His expertise was desired, and he would later wonder what his lack of hesitation said about his character. There was no longer an air of discrimination surrounding his marriage to Nicci - it was irrelevant, as far as their problems went, and he was welcomed into the fold of conspirators.

The motives of the machine that had formed soon turned away from their original goal, and Tobias had come to the conclusion that perhaps they were not as in control as they tried to convince themselves they were. He had not signed up to oppress and rule all of Europe.

Nicole was gone. He missed her dearly. But none of it was worth the constant strain on his conscience.

He left in the dead of night and took Lars with him. The name Jaeger wouldn't do, where they were going, and so a substitution had to be made. Jeffries made him sound like he might be able to fit in, only a face in a crowd, if it wasn't for his accent. It made finding work in Britain difficult, but not impossible, and he made it a point to keep his head down and get through the war without putting either of them in danger.

He knew for certain he was a wanted man. He only hoped they wouldn't look for him here, in the place they sought to destroy.


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:

It was a routine quite unlike the one he'd been used to in Germany. It was mundane, and he did his work quietly, not effectively enough to garner the attention of his superiors, not poorly enough to gain their ire. He wanted to be done with it; blending in had never been appealing to the man, but he knew that he simply couldn't. Not after the choices he'd made.

He'd heard the woman's pleas from far enough away that he could adjust his path accordingly, making sure to take a wide arc around her. He could not afford to be quoted in a newspaper, least of all the Prophet, even under a false name. Tobias exhaled, relieved, as the woman seemed to saunter off, a few feet ahead.

And then she fell. Right in front of him.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!”

Panic caught in his chest; he tried to step to the side and ignore her, but the crowd was too dense. He stopped dead in the middle of the alley, just in time to avoid stepping on her. More panic. His thought process slowed. He hesitated before quickly dipping to one knee and attempting to help the woman up quickly, without uttering a word.

(Merlin, what a scene it would be if his accent came out here, in the middle of this crowd.)

He badly hoped she wouldn't try to mention this in the paper.

How did you find us? I woke up one morning and was missing a kidney...?

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