Post by rabbet on Mar 28, 2008 19:39:33 GMT -5
basics[/u]
name;; Sirius Black
sex;; When and whe-
...Male
birth date;;
blood status;; “It doesn’t matter which old bat in my family married wh-”
(Pureblood)
school[/u]
house;; Gryffindor
year;; 7th, “and I can’t believe we’ve come this far.”
details[/u]
personality;;
“Hey, I don’t have to talk about myself. Other people do it for me.”
Sirius has real, genuine, undying love for those close to him. His trust is unwavering, but not easy to establish. Once lost, his confidence is lost forever. Displeasing him, however, is not difficult. Living in a family of people he grew to hate (hating to the point that he scarcely referred to, or even thought of them, as his own family) had hardened him, making him touchy and defensive, fragile to the anger inside him. The only people to whom he shows his anger, however, are his closest friends. Those he is very intimate with. To anyone else, he’s casual, passive, and lives effortlessly in his own glory. This doesn’t mean to say that he complains constantly about his situation to his mates. It is with them that he’s most comfortable in any mood.
Well, most moods.
There are those feelings associated with girls, of course. Girls. He could go through three in a week and leave them feeling like empty sacks, and not notice a thing. Women are a hobby to Sirius, little more. He seems to be waiting to find something more, perhaps waiting for the surprise of falling in love. With his lack of attention to detail, though, it’s unlikely that he’d even notice he had strong feelings for something with breasts. Girls seem to think he’d be an ideal partner, despite this. He always has the right things to say, and knows the right actions to take to display an emotion, without really feeling it.
The best senses of humor often belong to those who are most troubled. As if it’s a way to make up for his disappointment with his family, Sirius can hardly go a day without making half a dozen jokes, at least. Even when he’s in a somber mood, the bitterness only enhances his wit.
Despite the common bottled-up resentment, Sirius is far from a pessimist, and by no means is he always thoughtful and brooding. He’s not an eager or an ideal student, but a pleasingly bright one, with intelligence beyond his years (that became clearer and clearer as he progressed his way through Hogwarts) and a desire to rise up and out of curriculums’ limits. There’s no doubt about it, though – without his friends, he’d be half the person he is. It’s with them that he’s ended up in detention so many times, and with them that he shares a secret wink and an uttered “It as so worth it[/i].”
Trouble finds Sirius easily, but doesn’t hang around. His charming, coaxing and cajoling manner makes him easily forgivable. One thing that gets him in less visible, less obvious, less frequent messes is his affinity to things he knows he can’t have. Whether it’s the feeling of satisfaction he gets after a good, illegal prank or an actual material object, he years greatly for forbidden fruit of any kind. While not always doing anything to achieve the feeling of accomplished mutiny, he’s aware of the desire.
“What did I say?”
physical description;;
“I’m rather comparable to a winged horse.
Imagine its great wings, swaying in an effortless way that makes the beast look weightless as it soars into a setting sun. Its eyes are beads of onyx, and a glossy coat of liquid silver ripples with its astounding muscles. This horse is seldom alone – it is the mount of a stunning Veela. The Veela QUEEN.
Yeah.
The only thing she grooms more than her steed is her own cascading hair.
I’m not finished yet, don’t interrupt.
Daily, Queen Veela and her winged horse daily visit a ... Oh, sod it. I’m really handsome.”
“Alright, then. If I have to be serious, I will. I’ve got dark hair, very reminiscent of the rest of my blood family. My eyes are like gray sapphires – have a looksee, darling, if you’d like to be blown away. I’m certainly tall. James mocks me for being ‘short’, only because he’s a little taller. Have you seen his arms and legs, though? He looks like a primate.
I’m very easy on the eyes, always a pleasure to look at.”
Except for his obviously over-arrogant smirks and grins.
family History;;
‘UGLY, INSUFFERABLE WAIF, TRAITOROUS URCHIN, YOU’RE NO SON OF MINE.’
“I have a beautiful role-model of a mother. She delights in my presence (as a mother should), and I in hers. Her name is Constance Potter, my father’s is Henry. Good chap. They’ve got another son, too. We’re in the same year in Hogwarts, and the same house. He’s not quite as good-looking as me, or as kind and generous, and he usually smells a little by the end of the day, but he’s tolerable.”
(Parents are Walburga and Orion Black, younger-by-one-year brother, his only sibling, is Regulus Black.)
“I’ve got to mention my dear cousins, also at Hogwarts. There’s the stunning Andy, and.. well, two others, but I can’t remember their names.”
(Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black)
“I’m not going to talk about them. Leave me alone. They don’t matter.”
role play sample;;
Somewhere from within a curtained, sleepy world escaped a scarcely-rested Sirius Black. Under his eyes were the dark marks of too little sleep, but on his lips was the ghost of a comfortable smile (visible only if one could see past the scowl, of course). Without question, someone had been drinking. His head pounded harder than an aspiring marching-band drummer. There was undoubtedly a taste of liquor on the back of his tongue as he pulled himself out from underneath his blankets, and makeup on his lips. Now, now. Sirius Black wasn’t one to resort to sporadic, hermaphroditic episodes – even with whiskey on the brain. But makeup came with feminine lips, and feminine lips with girls and their peppy, sixth-year selves. Coincidentally, those peppy, sixth-years in question usually came with Sirius and his lips, as well as his tongue after a certain time. And his hands – those rude, obtrusive...large, soft and warm hands. The name of the girl he’d been with could have been anything from Jane to Riverbirdglovemansong. It was possible that he’d never even learned her name, for all he remembered was her eagerness and the back of her mouth.
Ah, and the pink scarf she’d been wearing that had somehow made its way, crumpled and balled up, to the end of his bed. He gingerly raised himself completely out of bed and blinked into an almost empty room.
And almost died when he caught his own eye in a mirror.
He’d /definitely/ been drinking.
The hair on one side of his head was matted and flat, and on the same side of his head were haphazard lines (evidently indentations from his pillow) and a small, crusty something dried at the side of his mouth that certainly, he thought (while hurriedly scratching it off), was not drool. He was still wearing the same clothing he had the previous day, but he’d pulled that one off before.
Then, of course, there was the lipstick.
What a mess.
The next twenty minutes of his morning were spent on sitting in bed thinking about getting up and cleaning himself, actually doing it, and then staring at himself in the mirror. There was no admiration or critical thinking employed as he did this, just observation. He found it easy to get lost in his own reflection, forgetting himself, forgetting who he was, and just turning off his thoughts entirely.[/size]
name;; Sirius Black
sex;; When and whe-
...Male
birth date;;
blood status;; “It doesn’t matter which old bat in my family married wh-”
(Pureblood)
school[/u]
house;; Gryffindor
year;; 7th, “and I can’t believe we’ve come this far.”
details[/u]
personality;;
“Hey, I don’t have to talk about myself. Other people do it for me.”
Sirius has real, genuine, undying love for those close to him. His trust is unwavering, but not easy to establish. Once lost, his confidence is lost forever. Displeasing him, however, is not difficult. Living in a family of people he grew to hate (hating to the point that he scarcely referred to, or even thought of them, as his own family) had hardened him, making him touchy and defensive, fragile to the anger inside him. The only people to whom he shows his anger, however, are his closest friends. Those he is very intimate with. To anyone else, he’s casual, passive, and lives effortlessly in his own glory. This doesn’t mean to say that he complains constantly about his situation to his mates. It is with them that he’s most comfortable in any mood.
Well, most moods.
There are those feelings associated with girls, of course. Girls. He could go through three in a week and leave them feeling like empty sacks, and not notice a thing. Women are a hobby to Sirius, little more. He seems to be waiting to find something more, perhaps waiting for the surprise of falling in love. With his lack of attention to detail, though, it’s unlikely that he’d even notice he had strong feelings for something with breasts. Girls seem to think he’d be an ideal partner, despite this. He always has the right things to say, and knows the right actions to take to display an emotion, without really feeling it.
The best senses of humor often belong to those who are most troubled. As if it’s a way to make up for his disappointment with his family, Sirius can hardly go a day without making half a dozen jokes, at least. Even when he’s in a somber mood, the bitterness only enhances his wit.
Despite the common bottled-up resentment, Sirius is far from a pessimist, and by no means is he always thoughtful and brooding. He’s not an eager or an ideal student, but a pleasingly bright one, with intelligence beyond his years (that became clearer and clearer as he progressed his way through Hogwarts) and a desire to rise up and out of curriculums’ limits. There’s no doubt about it, though – without his friends, he’d be half the person he is. It’s with them that he’s ended up in detention so many times, and with them that he shares a secret wink and an uttered “It as so worth it[/i].”
Trouble finds Sirius easily, but doesn’t hang around. His charming, coaxing and cajoling manner makes him easily forgivable. One thing that gets him in less visible, less obvious, less frequent messes is his affinity to things he knows he can’t have. Whether it’s the feeling of satisfaction he gets after a good, illegal prank or an actual material object, he years greatly for forbidden fruit of any kind. While not always doing anything to achieve the feeling of accomplished mutiny, he’s aware of the desire.
“What did I say?”
physical description;;
“I’m rather comparable to a winged horse.
Imagine its great wings, swaying in an effortless way that makes the beast look weightless as it soars into a setting sun. Its eyes are beads of onyx, and a glossy coat of liquid silver ripples with its astounding muscles. This horse is seldom alone – it is the mount of a stunning Veela. The Veela QUEEN.
Yeah.
The only thing she grooms more than her steed is her own cascading hair.
I’m not finished yet, don’t interrupt.
Daily, Queen Veela and her winged horse daily visit a ... Oh, sod it. I’m really handsome.”
“Alright, then. If I have to be serious, I will. I’ve got dark hair, very reminiscent of the rest of my blood family. My eyes are like gray sapphires – have a looksee, darling, if you’d like to be blown away. I’m certainly tall. James mocks me for being ‘short’, only because he’s a little taller. Have you seen his arms and legs, though? He looks like a primate.
I’m very easy on the eyes, always a pleasure to look at.”
Except for his obviously over-arrogant smirks and grins.
family History;;
‘UGLY, INSUFFERABLE WAIF, TRAITOROUS URCHIN, YOU’RE NO SON OF MINE.’
“I have a beautiful role-model of a mother. She delights in my presence (as a mother should), and I in hers. Her name is Constance Potter, my father’s is Henry. Good chap. They’ve got another son, too. We’re in the same year in Hogwarts, and the same house. He’s not quite as good-looking as me, or as kind and generous, and he usually smells a little by the end of the day, but he’s tolerable.”
(Parents are Walburga and Orion Black, younger-by-one-year brother, his only sibling, is Regulus Black.)
“I’ve got to mention my dear cousins, also at Hogwarts. There’s the stunning Andy, and.. well, two others, but I can’t remember their names.”
(Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black)
“I’m not going to talk about them. Leave me alone. They don’t matter.”
role play sample;;
Somewhere from within a curtained, sleepy world escaped a scarcely-rested Sirius Black. Under his eyes were the dark marks of too little sleep, but on his lips was the ghost of a comfortable smile (visible only if one could see past the scowl, of course). Without question, someone had been drinking. His head pounded harder than an aspiring marching-band drummer. There was undoubtedly a taste of liquor on the back of his tongue as he pulled himself out from underneath his blankets, and makeup on his lips. Now, now. Sirius Black wasn’t one to resort to sporadic, hermaphroditic episodes – even with whiskey on the brain. But makeup came with feminine lips, and feminine lips with girls and their peppy, sixth-year selves. Coincidentally, those peppy, sixth-years in question usually came with Sirius and his lips, as well as his tongue after a certain time. And his hands – those rude, obtrusive...large, soft and warm hands. The name of the girl he’d been with could have been anything from Jane to Riverbirdglovemansong. It was possible that he’d never even learned her name, for all he remembered was her eagerness and the back of her mouth.
Ah, and the pink scarf she’d been wearing that had somehow made its way, crumpled and balled up, to the end of his bed. He gingerly raised himself completely out of bed and blinked into an almost empty room.
And almost died when he caught his own eye in a mirror.
He’d /definitely/ been drinking.
The hair on one side of his head was matted and flat, and on the same side of his head were haphazard lines (evidently indentations from his pillow) and a small, crusty something dried at the side of his mouth that certainly, he thought (while hurriedly scratching it off), was not drool. He was still wearing the same clothing he had the previous day, but he’d pulled that one off before.
Then, of course, there was the lipstick.
What a mess.
The next twenty minutes of his morning were spent on sitting in bed thinking about getting up and cleaning himself, actually doing it, and then staring at himself in the mirror. There was no admiration or critical thinking employed as he did this, just observation. He found it easy to get lost in his own reflection, forgetting himself, forgetting who he was, and just turning off his thoughts entirely.[/size]