E L S E W H E R E A D U L T
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name: Arcus Ricardus.(I did not really make it to the last check in, and I also value this as a good opportunity to re-explore this character of mine again and finally give him an occupation, oh my.)
Gender: Male.Age: 20 (24'06'1922).Education: Slytherin, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (‘33-‘36)
transfer to Rook, Salem Institute (‘36-‘40).
Honors:[/i] Rook Society Delegate ('37-'40), Senior Medic ('38-'40), Quodpot Captain ('37-'40), Duelist ('38-'40).
Residence: Dukes Avenue 18A, Haringey, London, UK.Occupation:Hermit & Wandmaker.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 at the moment.Requested Magic Levels:
The levels requested are the ones that I have gained over time. They're already set.
- Charms: 14.
- Divination: 16.
- Transfiguration: 13.
- Summoning: 10.
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:Loxias Ricardus Jr. and Co..Biography:The fingers of his right hand curled themselves over the block of wood, his hand molding itself to the rectangle shape of it. His other hand went searching for the needed tools to cut out the wand that had been hiding itself inside of this block, perhaps not so eager to get out. The art of wand making had been taught to him by his early professor Pendragon.
But that man was gone now.
(Peculiar.)
Just like everyone he ever met, people would vanish from the surface of the earth. Not to knock on his door once more with an easy smile and a bottle of fire whiskey that needed to be emptied the same afternoon. Not to catch up with how he had been doing, what he had been up to.
He blamed them, even though he knew he himself had caused the major part of the lack of any social contact over the last few years. He had always been the one to cut off any social contacts, to cut off any ties that he had. He had become good at making enemies out of friends by ignoring them straight after he left. Their letters unopened on a stack in the corner of the room, used to light the fireplace when the winter set in again.
The stream letters would stop after a little while.
They all did.
He had cut himself out of their lives. Out of his family's, out of his brother's, his friends', out of the memory of the man he had once loved. It had been safer for them to not hang out with the man who had to look over his shoulder every second of every day. The world outside had become more cold and more lethal. There was more danger lurking around the corners, more frosted eyes with cold condemnation in them. There were more people out there who would be ready to judge, who would hand him over to his family for justice.
For he was no longer allowed to use their
name as his own.
But he so teasingly did.
Blue determined eyes focused themselves on the block of wood as he started to peel off the edges with a chisel. Bangs of blond hair fell in front of his eyes as he bent forward to see his handiwork, absorbing the beads of sweat that started to form themselves on his forehead.
There was a knocking on his door that startled him, his hands immediately dropping the work that they had occupied themselves with. The block of wood motionless on the table in front of him, the chisel on its way down to the floor, ready to make yet another cut in it. Its thunk replaced the sound of his skipped heartbeat when the adrenaline was pumped into his system.
Arcus crawled back, clawed at his surroundings to steady himself until his back hit the wall behind him to provide a spine. His body shook, his eyes shot restlessly from the right to the left before they lingered on the open windowpane. He would be able to make it out of this situation if it was possible. Leave all the wands behind that he had stacked in boxes against another wall. Nothing was irreplaceable, only his freedom.
The knocking repeated itself, and the blonde man had to bite his bottom lip to stop shaking and just stare blankly at the door. It had been a long trip of amnesia and seclusion to turn the jolly curious young man into the paranoid gifted bugger that he was right now.
Little was left of the young Arcus Ricardus, and all there's left in the dark confines of his mind is in need of restoration.Roleplay: Option Two -"Coming through! Coming th--- arrrgh!"He automatically hunched, readying himself for the coming attack. For the hand that would fetch his collar and would drag him down the streets like a scapegoat. To look the person in the face that he had been terrified all along he would literally run into someday. To see the ice cold eyes look down on him with so much indignation that it would freeze the soles of his shoes to the ground and glue his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
It was therefor that he almost jumped when the several long strands of tinsel covered him. It hadn't been in the slightest what he had been expected, it was something that he was confused about. His left hand curiously reached up to touch the tinsel and pluck it out of the blond bangs of his hair. Blue eyes searched his surroundings for his attacker, still a bit weary.
"For Merlin's sake!"Arcus was about to say the same in relief, although he was not quite sure wether he should be pleased that he had been attacked after all. His face scrunched itself up in confusion, blue eyes clouding over with thoughts while reflecting the falling snowflakes.
There was of course a possibility that the man in question did not have any ill intent and that it was merely a followup of events that lead to this very moment. On the other hand, there was no way to say on which side this man was. How much he knew, what he could accomplish in his position. What he would be able to do to Arcus, the real kind of harm that he could conjure. Even the kindest faces were painted black by the worst kind of paranoia.
"I am so sorry! This blasted snow!"Arcus just plucked the last of tinsel out of his hair, thrusted it helplessly in the direction of the man. His gaze cast down as the routine crashed in of hiding his face.
"Oh -"
