Post by patrick mitchell bones on May 2, 2011 21:44:32 GMT -5
PATRICK MITCHELL BONES
PATTY , 15 , HUFFLEPUFF , DYLAN FORSBERG
light hearted - trusting - short attention span - energetic - empathetic[/CENTER]
"Life is far too important to be taken seriously."
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Patronous although unable to cast it currently, it will take the form of a lamb – this is associated with the memory of Amelia's return from St. Mungos.
Boggart open pages of a blank diary; because at this moment in time he is so concerned with his secrets being found out, but he has nothing to really be afraid of and it perplexes him.
Amortenia apple pie from the baker down the street from home, vanilla, and fall leaves are the smells wafting up from any love potion.
Dementor the worst memory that would cloud the atmosphere if ever he is so unfortunate to come across a dementor is slipping into a street drain at the age of six, worried most about never seeing sunlight again.
Wand ten inches made from holly wood, with a pixie dust and raven feather core.[/ul]
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EXPERIENCE four years
CONTACT girlgeek42@live/yahoo girlgeekxx42 = aim
MEMBER TITLE 5th Year Hufflepuff Prefect
CHARACTER'S:
HOUSE: Hufflepuff
HAIR COLOR: Blonde
EYE COLOR: Brown[/ul]
OTHER CHARACTERS severus - rita - kevin - ollie - lainey - philip - bella - alastrina - vinnie - lyle
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE
Rain splattered across his face, pounded into his pores. Severus gasped for air, his white knuckles digging into his knees, bent over in breathlessness. The heavy front door slammed shut behind him, blowing the gray, moist air at his back and pushing him down the steps. In his throat Severus could feel the beat of his heart, erratic and hard. His deep gulps of breath stopped cold at the lump his heart made, like a lump of coals never to be fired. He clutched his side, desperate for air, feeling the weakness spread over him from a lack of oxygen, and he buckled, almost hitting the stone below. But he turned his head and stared at the closed front door through a wall of watery blue eyes. The corners of his eyes warmed with tears and they billowed, pushed to the edge, broke the surface, and fell down his cheek heavier than any drop of rain.
Not one day could pass where Severus walked the halls alone and safe. Not once could he imagine life as anything but a long and narrow rode, hands and feet locked to move constantly, leading him to the next foul word, the next gentle but horrifying shove, the next curse flowing directly into his veins and kicking him when he's down. As Severus stood before the school bulletin board, worry welling up inside, chilling him to his core, and his eyes moved from note to note memorizing the loop and crosses of the scrawled black ink, Severus was being watched. The Ravenclaw quidditch team slopped in from practice, their voices distant rumbles of the storm approaching. Most dragged their feet to the steps and ascending towards their ivory tower, but two stayed behind and locked their cross hairs on Severus.
He, normally acute to the changes of atmosphere when young boys got it into their heads to make a little ruckus, kept his back turned to the boys. He kept his mind pinned to the bulletin board, analyzing the scraps of parchment with carefully worded paranoia spreading across them. The two boys, still wearing their bronze and blue, mud streaked jerseys, silently edged up to him baring their sharp teeth and claws. As Severus' pale hand reached for the last note, his finger resting on the raised question mark, they attacked. Their hands grabbed him, wrapped their claws around his shoulders and his neck, and pulled him back into their clutches. He grabbed, ripping the parchment and crushing it in his palm, and as he flew backwards into their callused hands and flexed, strong arms, his eyes flickered shut, knowing the familiar feeling that was about to wash over him.
He could feel finger nails digging into his skin, and one trickle of blood as the stronger of the two kept him down. The other laughed, his cackle deep and full, and he pointed his wand at Severus. You know that Potter, I don't think he was a good enough wizard to really teach you that lesson. He sneered at Severus, his words wrapping around the high pedestal he stood on. Let me have a go! The tip of his sturdy wand stabbed into Severus' flailing legs, steadying them. The boy holding him down, gripped his shoulders tighter, his thumb finding the crevice between his collar bone and his stopped heart. Severus opened his eyes, and kicked, his whole body revolted in anguish, and he knocked the wand away. It scattered across the hall, the clink of wood on stone echoing as Severus bit his lower lip in angered silence. You've got some fight in you, ain't that bloody right Snivellus? The boy dropped him, his body thumped against the floor, but he wasted no time wallowing. Severus scrambled to his feet and bolted from the castle.
The rain drowned out their laughter, and Severus stumbled on, knowing full well he was still on that narrow path. He would never escape. His legs wobbled across the courtyard, beyond the pale stone arches that dripped with dark, murky water. His right hand still crumbled the parchment, his left instinctively took hold of his wand, and as the strength slowly flooded back into his muscles Severus ran away. He stopped in the grass far behind the whomping willow, his knees dropping to the ground, and his hands falling at his side. His body convulsed as he wept, his shoulders heaving up and down with the sobs that poured from his eyes, from his wounds. Not one day could pass without torture.
He lifted his fists to his eyes, and forcibly pushed away the dried stains of tears. His wand dropped from his hand and landed silently beneath the tall grass. He pulled his hands away, opened his right palm and gently unfolded the parchment. The rain still pounded down through the sky, muddling the ink, running the words together. Severus had already made up his mind who wrote these things, he recognized her handwriting faster than he recognized his own when scribbled in old text books. He just hadn't the time to understand her final message, her final words...but they hit him now. They raced across his synapses, and jolted him in his gut. The rain poured through, the parchment becoming weaker every second he stayed in onslaught. Emma Logan. Had he seen her today? Severus gulped, the air once again stopping at his cold esophagus, he hadn't. He knew that for sure.
In the castle, perhaps waiting for him, were those boys. In the castle, the whole of the student body waited, but Emma Logan didn't wait, she had already begun fading. Without a thought Severus was up and running again. His sneakers dug into mud and pulled out again, letting the wet fly up against his black trousers and stain his gray uniform sweater. The rain had flattened his hair, it dangled before his eyes, passed his nose in some places, and plastered against his skin. The stones of the courtyard darkened under his trampling, and he flung open those heavy doors in a flurry of strength. The Hall was empty, but the orange glow of fire burst from it and spilled into the darkening night. Severus jolted inside, his body still cold, the fires seemed miles away. They flickered, teasing him, reminding him that nothing here was capable of feeling what he felt, except for Emma. She understood, she played along and complimented the orange flames with her black and blue life.
Instinctively Severus climbed the grand staircase, his hand flying up along the banister, dragging the soaked parchment with it and leaving trails of ink along the smooth alabaster stone. She'd be somewhere no one else would, somewhere so distant and prone to pain that people generally avoided it like a sickness. Moaning Myrtle cried out, her agony depressing even the most cheerful of souls, and that was enough to send people off in the opposite direction, but not Severus and Emma. They sought out those places, those tiny moments where loneliness was a synonym for survival. She would be there, he hoped beyond all hope that she would be there breathing and warm to the touch. His insides were cold, and hers were like ice, but her touch, her flesh still building cells and tissue was like a fire that ignited his own passion to burn. He didn't want to give in, to be put out, and this time, with his own flame, he'd keep hers alight.
The first floor corridor was crowded, Severus' panicked eyes found Alice's golden hair floating amongst the group. Alice! He screamed silently, his mouth agape, his eyes wide. Snivellus! was the response clamoring after him as he pulled himself up another flight of stairs. It rang against the halls but this time it didn't reach his ears. He nearly flung himself against the flat surface of the second floor, his hands scrambling against the dirty floor, his nails digging into the cracks, picking up all grime. He spat, his hair flying away from his face and his legs pushed up once more to carry him to the girls bathroom only a few feet away.
The door was slightly ajar, and in the flash of time that Severus spent just outside he could see her dark hair desperately trying to pull free from her braids, wildly searching for freedom across her face. She lay motionless on the floor, he now knelt beside her, his knees stained with grass. "Emma! Emma please!" Severus moaned at her, his hands wrapping around her shoulders, a tight grasp that felt gentle all the same. His own thumb now rested between her collar bone and heart and he could still feel it beat. He knew it wasn't his beat, it was her always steady tone. He shook her, pleading with her to be anything that resembled okay. She didn't move under his slender hands, and Severus leaned over her, his hair falling against her chest desperate to hear the beat, and his eyes lingered level with the ground.
The glint of a lavender vial caught his glance. It lay under the stall, left a trail of clear stone where it had wiped away the dust of years of isolation. The potion dribbled from the end, spilling the last drop of poison onto the floor. He watched it drip, his eyes following the edge of the vial to the floor, his heart racing with the knowledge that she had only swallowed it a moment before he came for her. He reached for his wand, the parchment fluttering out of his hand and landing on her stomach -- so thin the ribs poked through. His trouser pocket was empty, and his mind traveled fast down the steps through the entrance hall, flew down the steps and lingered in the tall grass so far away. No wand. He dug, desperately into his pockets, the creases and folds of his sweater and into the confines of his robe. The life saving lump of his bezoar, a last minute project before the potion exam next week, rolled into his grasp. He shoved it into her thin, dry lips. He held her close to him, his heart racing, his lungs depleted of all air, knowing that he wouldn't last long without her friendship, knowing that he might not ever want another gulp of air.
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THIS APPLICATON TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY JANASAURUS! OVER AT CAUTION!
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