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Post by Flint Cotnoir on Jul 17, 2011 11:55:27 GMT -6
-General-
Full Name: Flint Cotnoir
Gender: Male
Age, Birthplace & Date: 17, born in London, England on 23rd May
Bloodline: Halfblood (Pure and Muggle)
Flint is generally considered a handsome young man – Not a claim he makes himself, though, and not an image he fights for. He doesn’t care much for how he looks or dresses, taking only the minimal amount of pride to make himself presentable. His dress sense is, therefore, quite reserved, a fan of simple, plain clothes and nice coats (When not wearing his school robes, obviously). His face is very expressive, in particular his eyebrows, and he often finds his face giving away his feelings before he get’s a chance to react to a situation vocally.
[/left]
Current Year of Studies: 7th
House: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin[/left]
The "Real you"
Alias : Mykull (It’s meant to be a phonetic Michael… I am not good with names
)
Disposable time : A couple of hours a day usually, I’m a student and have a part time job on top of that, plus not an awful social life, but I always end up sitting at the computer at some point anyway
Site you on which you found us : Google
Full Name: Flint Cotnoir
Gender: Male
Age, Birthplace & Date: 17, born in London, England on 23rd May
Bloodline: Halfblood (Pure and Muggle)
-Appearance-
Hair: Short and brown – Often messy, as Flint has the habit of running his hand through his hair when thinking or stressed.
Eyes: Lie somewhere between brown and green. Piercing, often told they look very calm.
Body Type: Average height, rather athletic figure but not too toned.
Unique Features: Small scar on right wrist, under thumb, a reminder of his first flying lesson at Hogwarts.
Animagus: N/A
More Detailed Physical Description :
Play-by = Jensen Ackles
[/center]Hair: Short and brown – Often messy, as Flint has the habit of running his hand through his hair when thinking or stressed.
Eyes: Lie somewhere between brown and green. Piercing, often told they look very calm.
Body Type: Average height, rather athletic figure but not too toned.
Unique Features: Small scar on right wrist, under thumb, a reminder of his first flying lesson at Hogwarts.
Animagus: N/A
More Detailed Physical Description :
Play-by = Jensen Ackles
Flint is generally considered a handsome young man – Not a claim he makes himself, though, and not an image he fights for. He doesn’t care much for how he looks or dresses, taking only the minimal amount of pride to make himself presentable. His dress sense is, therefore, quite reserved, a fan of simple, plain clothes and nice coats (When not wearing his school robes, obviously). His face is very expressive, in particular his eyebrows, and he often finds his face giving away his feelings before he get’s a chance to react to a situation vocally.
[/left]
-Personality-
Boggart: For Flint, boggarts take the form of a third, lurid smoke cloud, slowly expanding across whatever space they are in. This represents two things for him – Primarily, the fire that claimed the life of his father when he was merely a baby, and secondly the idea of all the hard work he has put in at school being for nothing, and his dreams ‘going up in smoke’ so to speak.
Mirror of Erised: Contrary to what people may believe he would see (Success and wealth), Flint sees himself merely contented, a slightly older looking him with a happy, stress free face, having achieved what he feels comfortable with and being able to sit back happy that he has done the best for himself.
Patronus: A wolf, but a small, more cub like one. Flint refers to him affectionately as Balt.
Temperament/Allegiance: A good and just person, but is generally reluctant to act upon this unless called to do so.
Likes: Reading and Learning – This is one of Flint’s biggest pastimes, to the point where it is almost an obsession. What Flint wants, more than anything else, is to be a success, and for him the way to do so is academically, to push himself to his intellectual limit and to surpass all those he can at school. However, Flint is not a naturally brilliant wizard, or even naturally intelligent – He is retentive and persistent, and so he can push himself to a level where he is considered amongst the top in his year. It’s a good thing he enjoys the pursuit of knowledge, or else his need to push himself to being the best and achieving all his goals would be a very tricky path indeed.
Walking – Even the most try hard student has to relax, however, and Flint does this by walking, taking in the castle grounds and allowing his mind to wander. He tries to walk for at least 45 minutes a day, to give him enough time to become almost normal and at ease once again. What few friends he has often join him on his wanders, but in truth Flint usually prefers the solitude and introspection granted to him by this part of his routine.
Duelling – This is something that Flint keeps as secret as he can, but he is a huge fan of the idea of duelling and spells used in combat. He like to fantasise often in his walks of a life as an auror or even privately contracted Dark Wizard hunter, like the numerous Death Eater hunters who still travel worldwide to hunt down the worst offenders of 50 years ago. He knows, however, it is only fantasy, and is under no illusions that his life will lead him down that road.
Other likes – Cheese, Writing, Opportunities to prove himself.
Dislikes: Bullying – Remarkably for someone who is as geeky and bookish as he is, Flint managed to evade any form of bullying or ridicule in his way up school – Possibly because of his well known no-nonsense feelings about it. One of the few times Flint will proactively jump into action is when he sees someone target someone weaker than them in some way for no other reason than to take advantage of their physical or mental dominance. It boils his blood, and he cannot see it be done without intervening – Often something that earns him a black eye.
Being patronised/told what to do – Flint is his own person, and a strong one at that. When someone talks down to him, he considers it the greatest on insults, and will act with a kind of reserved hostility until they cease. As for being told what to do, within reason he is obviously okay with a teacher or superiors instruction, but being dictated to is something he hates almost as much as being talked down to.
Other dislikes – Ignorance, Rosé wine, Intense heat
Strong Points/Weaknesses: Strengths
Weaknesses –
Whims/Habits: Flint’s one compulsive habit is running his hands through his hair when he is either thinking hard or stressed – Which is rather a lot. Aside from that, only the aforementioned study obsession.
Detailed Personality : Flint is a very peculiar person, in so much as he can be both a bit of a loner, and also a very good people person. When he manages to get himself out of his thirst to make something of himself, he is in fact very personable and quite witty. However, it is rare to find him in this mood, and so a lot of people see him as rather rude and isolated.
Character's Family : Elaine Cotnoir (née Winchester) – Mother, age 42
Léonce Cotnoir – Father, deceased
Boggart: For Flint, boggarts take the form of a third, lurid smoke cloud, slowly expanding across whatever space they are in. This represents two things for him – Primarily, the fire that claimed the life of his father when he was merely a baby, and secondly the idea of all the hard work he has put in at school being for nothing, and his dreams ‘going up in smoke’ so to speak.
Mirror of Erised: Contrary to what people may believe he would see (Success and wealth), Flint sees himself merely contented, a slightly older looking him with a happy, stress free face, having achieved what he feels comfortable with and being able to sit back happy that he has done the best for himself.
Patronus: A wolf, but a small, more cub like one. Flint refers to him affectionately as Balt.
Temperament/Allegiance: A good and just person, but is generally reluctant to act upon this unless called to do so.
Likes: Reading and Learning – This is one of Flint’s biggest pastimes, to the point where it is almost an obsession. What Flint wants, more than anything else, is to be a success, and for him the way to do so is academically, to push himself to his intellectual limit and to surpass all those he can at school. However, Flint is not a naturally brilliant wizard, or even naturally intelligent – He is retentive and persistent, and so he can push himself to a level where he is considered amongst the top in his year. It’s a good thing he enjoys the pursuit of knowledge, or else his need to push himself to being the best and achieving all his goals would be a very tricky path indeed.
Walking – Even the most try hard student has to relax, however, and Flint does this by walking, taking in the castle grounds and allowing his mind to wander. He tries to walk for at least 45 minutes a day, to give him enough time to become almost normal and at ease once again. What few friends he has often join him on his wanders, but in truth Flint usually prefers the solitude and introspection granted to him by this part of his routine.
Duelling – This is something that Flint keeps as secret as he can, but he is a huge fan of the idea of duelling and spells used in combat. He like to fantasise often in his walks of a life as an auror or even privately contracted Dark Wizard hunter, like the numerous Death Eater hunters who still travel worldwide to hunt down the worst offenders of 50 years ago. He knows, however, it is only fantasy, and is under no illusions that his life will lead him down that road.
Other likes – Cheese, Writing, Opportunities to prove himself.
Dislikes: Bullying – Remarkably for someone who is as geeky and bookish as he is, Flint managed to evade any form of bullying or ridicule in his way up school – Possibly because of his well known no-nonsense feelings about it. One of the few times Flint will proactively jump into action is when he sees someone target someone weaker than them in some way for no other reason than to take advantage of their physical or mental dominance. It boils his blood, and he cannot see it be done without intervening – Often something that earns him a black eye.
Being patronised/told what to do – Flint is his own person, and a strong one at that. When someone talks down to him, he considers it the greatest on insults, and will act with a kind of reserved hostility until they cease. As for being told what to do, within reason he is obviously okay with a teacher or superiors instruction, but being dictated to is something he hates almost as much as being talked down to.
Other dislikes – Ignorance, Rosé wine, Intense heat
Strong Points/Weaknesses: Strengths
- Good at retaining information
- Proficient wizard
- Just and loyal
- Aesthetically pleasing, apparently
- Good humoured and likable
Weaknesses –
- Obsessive studier
- Can appear distant and shy at first
- Not very proactive in a lot of ways
- Not willing to chase his true dreams, but instead what he sees as more difficult goals
- Can be quite scathing unintentionally
Whims/Habits: Flint’s one compulsive habit is running his hands through his hair when he is either thinking hard or stressed – Which is rather a lot. Aside from that, only the aforementioned study obsession.
Detailed Personality : Flint is a very peculiar person, in so much as he can be both a bit of a loner, and also a very good people person. When he manages to get himself out of his thirst to make something of himself, he is in fact very personable and quite witty. However, it is rare to find him in this mood, and so a lot of people see him as rather rude and isolated.
Character's Family : Elaine Cotnoir (née Winchester) – Mother, age 42
Léonce Cotnoir – Father, deceased
-Training-
Students—
[/b]Students—
Current Year of Studies: 7th
House: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin[/left]
-Character History-
Flint’s very existence can all be put down to one massive co-incidence, one that nearly ended badly. 19 years ago, his father Léonce, a prolific auror for the French Ministry, was on an overseas mission in England to catch a known muggle killer from Lyon, Sebastien Bonaparte. It was unusual for a case to be handled by a forgein ministry, but Léonce had chased Bonaparte down for 3 years now, and knew how he worked very well, so the British Ministry had allowed it. It was in his 3rd week there that he found him, holed up in a lovely North London flat, with a muggle student at wandpoint in a hostage situation. It was tense – If Léonce had overstepped the mark at all, he knew that Bonaparte would not hesitate to kill the girl. And so he, carefully, lined up a series of charms to create a host of distractions, exploding around the flat. Bonaparte spun one way then the other, looking in alarm for others, giving Léonce just enough of an opportunity to launch a well aimed stunner at his head, knocking the criminal out.
The female hostage was, of course, Elaine Winchester, a very academically successful muggle who was terrified. But something about the calm, collected look instantly soothed her fear. Within a month, Léonce had handed in his notice to the French Ministry and had settled down in London with Elaine. For two years they lived an idyllic life, although Elaine chose to stay somewhat separate from the wizarding aspects that Léonce brought. A year after their marriage, they were blessed with a boy – Flint.
It would have been a fantastic atmosphere for a young boy to grow up in, with an intelligent and dedicated mother alongside a passionate and just father. However, it was not to be – 4 months after Flint’s birth, Bonaparte escaped prison in France and came for Léonce and his family. Their duel was extraordinary by all account, culminating in an all consuming fire erupting in the house, killing both wizards while Elaine watched on, a young Flint crying in her arms.
The life that followed was very different from what was forseen. Because she didn’t know much about the wizarding world, and had next to no contacts in it, Elaine could only tell Flint that he was one, not what it would entail or such like. She encouraged him academically through the muggle primary school she sent him to, too much encouragement some may say, as she was very harsh on poor grades. As a result, Flint began his habitual study at a young age, not quite robbing him of a childhood but limiting his interactions with the kids he lived amongst. He was also told by his mother, of course, about his father and how he died – However, the way she told it was almost judgemental of Léonce’s career as an auror, as if the danger was not worth the payoff.
At 11, Flint’s Hogwarts letter came, and despite her misgivings about the magical world, his mother did not even attempt to stop him from going. It became time for her to let her son see what the world his father had known was like. Flint himself was terrified – A whole new way of living that he knew nothing about. As such, his study reflex kicked in even harder than before, and for the first year of school he surrounded himself with books to learn all he could about the wizarding world, so as not to appear ignorant. He wasn’t a brilliant student, but with his knowledge slowly improving and classes becoming easier, he was able to spend some time focusing on spellcraft – and his love for it amazed him. However, all it took was one thought of the very brief memory of the thick smoke from the burning ruins of his babyhood and he repressed this love to a secret vice.
Now, Flint is amongst the top students in his year, excelling in writing but holding back to perform only modestly in practical terms. With a final year at the school he has taken to well ahead of him, it remains to be seen if Flint will take the path his mother laid out for him, or break this mould and embrace the lifestyle more like his fathers, the one that seems to be coming naturally to him…
Flint’s very existence can all be put down to one massive co-incidence, one that nearly ended badly. 19 years ago, his father Léonce, a prolific auror for the French Ministry, was on an overseas mission in England to catch a known muggle killer from Lyon, Sebastien Bonaparte. It was unusual for a case to be handled by a forgein ministry, but Léonce had chased Bonaparte down for 3 years now, and knew how he worked very well, so the British Ministry had allowed it. It was in his 3rd week there that he found him, holed up in a lovely North London flat, with a muggle student at wandpoint in a hostage situation. It was tense – If Léonce had overstepped the mark at all, he knew that Bonaparte would not hesitate to kill the girl. And so he, carefully, lined up a series of charms to create a host of distractions, exploding around the flat. Bonaparte spun one way then the other, looking in alarm for others, giving Léonce just enough of an opportunity to launch a well aimed stunner at his head, knocking the criminal out.
The female hostage was, of course, Elaine Winchester, a very academically successful muggle who was terrified. But something about the calm, collected look instantly soothed her fear. Within a month, Léonce had handed in his notice to the French Ministry and had settled down in London with Elaine. For two years they lived an idyllic life, although Elaine chose to stay somewhat separate from the wizarding aspects that Léonce brought. A year after their marriage, they were blessed with a boy – Flint.
It would have been a fantastic atmosphere for a young boy to grow up in, with an intelligent and dedicated mother alongside a passionate and just father. However, it was not to be – 4 months after Flint’s birth, Bonaparte escaped prison in France and came for Léonce and his family. Their duel was extraordinary by all account, culminating in an all consuming fire erupting in the house, killing both wizards while Elaine watched on, a young Flint crying in her arms.
The life that followed was very different from what was forseen. Because she didn’t know much about the wizarding world, and had next to no contacts in it, Elaine could only tell Flint that he was one, not what it would entail or such like. She encouraged him academically through the muggle primary school she sent him to, too much encouragement some may say, as she was very harsh on poor grades. As a result, Flint began his habitual study at a young age, not quite robbing him of a childhood but limiting his interactions with the kids he lived amongst. He was also told by his mother, of course, about his father and how he died – However, the way she told it was almost judgemental of Léonce’s career as an auror, as if the danger was not worth the payoff.
At 11, Flint’s Hogwarts letter came, and despite her misgivings about the magical world, his mother did not even attempt to stop him from going. It became time for her to let her son see what the world his father had known was like. Flint himself was terrified – A whole new way of living that he knew nothing about. As such, his study reflex kicked in even harder than before, and for the first year of school he surrounded himself with books to learn all he could about the wizarding world, so as not to appear ignorant. He wasn’t a brilliant student, but with his knowledge slowly improving and classes becoming easier, he was able to spend some time focusing on spellcraft – and his love for it amazed him. However, all it took was one thought of the very brief memory of the thick smoke from the burning ruins of his babyhood and he repressed this love to a secret vice.
Now, Flint is amongst the top students in his year, excelling in writing but holding back to perform only modestly in practical terms. With a final year at the school he has taken to well ahead of him, it remains to be seen if Flint will take the path his mother laid out for him, or break this mould and embrace the lifestyle more like his fathers, the one that seems to be coming naturally to him…
The "Real you"
Alias : Mykull (It’s meant to be a phonetic Michael… I am not good with names
)Disposable time : A couple of hours a day usually, I’m a student and have a part time job on top of that, plus not an awful social life, but I always end up sitting at the computer at some point anyway
Site you on which you found us : Google
Sample RP: This is from a superpower RP. My intro posts are always a little longer, and I am out of practice, so it may take me a week or so to get back to this standard of posting.
4.16pm. Well, a second or so out, but then, one never could set a watch perfectly by themselves. Uriel shook the cuff of his shirt over the silver timepiece and returned his attention, undivided, to the file in front of him. It was nothing interesting, benign information on some traffic laws. Heavily revised, of course, now that things were blowing up all over the place. When things had started going up in smoke, Uriel had thought for a second that his job might get exciting, and that he might get to see action that went beyond a parking ticket - But of course, it was only the idiots who didn't understand their cause who fought here. Not like back home. But then, nowhere was.
34 seconds later, he decided it was no good forcing the rest of the file down him - He shut it over and resigned it to the middle drawer of his desk. That was one thing to be said here - Even a uniform like him had a nicely sized desk, with lockable drawers. A cup of coffee perched precariously on the edge, and he raised it to his lips, only to splutter it out a second later. As cold as a dead penguin. Giving a mildly irritated sigh, he put it back down, making a mental note to tip it into the sink next time he got up. Not that that was likely to happen soon - He wasn't on patrol today, instead being banished to the office to catch up on paperwork that nobody would ever read again. Not a waste of time at all.
The phone on his desk bleeped into life, and he picked it up a quarter way through the second ring. "Yes?", he said, his voice calm, his eastern accent barely noticable.
"Uri, you busy?". Elena, the secratary. A poisonous little toad if ever there was one. Still, no reason to be anything less than polite.
"Not particularly, no. Problem?"
"We've got a girl here, says she's been mugged.". Her tone positively reeked of uncaring. What great people skills. "Vivian Carpathia her name is, a shifter apparently. It's probably just some bullshit to waste our time, but we need someone to check it out".
Uriel had the sudden, sharp temptation to shout the loudest profanity that had ever entered his mind down the phone. Quite frankly, he would rather be reading about new roundabout by-laws than dealing with taking a statement. But, of course, it was his job. The best one he could get on this rock.
"I'll be down in 5.". He hung up without any other discussion - Not much need really. He pushed his chair back and stood up, remembering at the last second to grab his stagnant cup of coffee. He took the longer way around the office, so as to pop into the toilet and tip the cold liquid down the sink, leaving it on the desk of a currently absent colleague. He tapped his pocket, to check his badge was there - But of course, it was. He wasn't one to forget that kind of detail.
The elevator was empty, yet the smell someone had left not too long ago lingered. Granted, it may have been here for some time - Enhanced scent was one element of his gift that Uriel was not thankful for. It hadn't been good on the battlefield. Decaying corpses are unpleasant normally.
The doors pinged open, and he was in the lobby. He took a second to fix his collar, then strode out, casting his eyes over the waiting area. Mugging victims were easy enough to spot - Withdrawn normally, possibly in tears. However, there was no obvious one waiting here. Maybe Elena was right - But of course, she wasn't. She was an idiot. His eye was caught by a rather pretty young lady, staring at the floor, and instinct told him she was his victim. Well, not his victim, but you know what I mean.
He walked over to her, stopping a bit away and looking down. This was one of the more awkward moments in policing. If they spoke to you first, it immedietly removed your control of the situation. However, if you startled them, it made the talk afterwards a lot more difficult. Thankfully, Uriel wasn't one to care either way.
"Miss Carpathia?", he said, his voice calmer than it had been with Elena. One could afford to be more natural with other staff - With people coming into the station, it was important to be nicer. Or rather, more gentle.
34 seconds later, he decided it was no good forcing the rest of the file down him - He shut it over and resigned it to the middle drawer of his desk. That was one thing to be said here - Even a uniform like him had a nicely sized desk, with lockable drawers. A cup of coffee perched precariously on the edge, and he raised it to his lips, only to splutter it out a second later. As cold as a dead penguin. Giving a mildly irritated sigh, he put it back down, making a mental note to tip it into the sink next time he got up. Not that that was likely to happen soon - He wasn't on patrol today, instead being banished to the office to catch up on paperwork that nobody would ever read again. Not a waste of time at all.
The phone on his desk bleeped into life, and he picked it up a quarter way through the second ring. "Yes?", he said, his voice calm, his eastern accent barely noticable.
"Uri, you busy?". Elena, the secratary. A poisonous little toad if ever there was one. Still, no reason to be anything less than polite.
"Not particularly, no. Problem?"
"We've got a girl here, says she's been mugged.". Her tone positively reeked of uncaring. What great people skills. "Vivian Carpathia her name is, a shifter apparently. It's probably just some bullshit to waste our time, but we need someone to check it out".
Uriel had the sudden, sharp temptation to shout the loudest profanity that had ever entered his mind down the phone. Quite frankly, he would rather be reading about new roundabout by-laws than dealing with taking a statement. But, of course, it was his job. The best one he could get on this rock.
"I'll be down in 5.". He hung up without any other discussion - Not much need really. He pushed his chair back and stood up, remembering at the last second to grab his stagnant cup of coffee. He took the longer way around the office, so as to pop into the toilet and tip the cold liquid down the sink, leaving it on the desk of a currently absent colleague. He tapped his pocket, to check his badge was there - But of course, it was. He wasn't one to forget that kind of detail.
The elevator was empty, yet the smell someone had left not too long ago lingered. Granted, it may have been here for some time - Enhanced scent was one element of his gift that Uriel was not thankful for. It hadn't been good on the battlefield. Decaying corpses are unpleasant normally.
The doors pinged open, and he was in the lobby. He took a second to fix his collar, then strode out, casting his eyes over the waiting area. Mugging victims were easy enough to spot - Withdrawn normally, possibly in tears. However, there was no obvious one waiting here. Maybe Elena was right - But of course, she wasn't. She was an idiot. His eye was caught by a rather pretty young lady, staring at the floor, and instinct told him she was his victim. Well, not his victim, but you know what I mean.
He walked over to her, stopping a bit away and looking down. This was one of the more awkward moments in policing. If they spoke to you first, it immedietly removed your control of the situation. However, if you startled them, it made the talk afterwards a lot more difficult. Thankfully, Uriel wasn't one to care either way.
"Miss Carpathia?", he said, his voice calmer than it had been with Elena. One could afford to be more natural with other staff - With people coming into the station, it was important to be nicer. Or rather, more gentle.
