N A M EAlvy Benedict Proctor
N I C K N A M EAl
G E N D E RMale
A G E21
st May, 1999
❖ Seventeen
Pureblood
Swagger comes easily to Alvy; he moves with an easy, relaxed confidence and the every action he takes suits him. Everything's fluid and easily attributed to Alvy - in weird terms, his actions are always on brand. A lot of his movements come deliberately and he often doesn't do things without meaning to. Regardless, everything Alvy does is relaxed and that's evident in the way he holds himself: light and always on his toes. Always on the edge of either collapsing into a sofa, ready for a catnap in the sun, or ready to burst with energy and break into a heavy jog, a sprint down the halls. And that term, "on his toes," isn't used metaphorically because Alvy tends to walk on the balls of his feet and occasionally on his toes. A steady 'tap, tap, tap,' as his shoes hit the ground or simply no sound at all, unless energy rises to an all time high, then that 'tap, tap, tap,' turns into a heavy padded, 'thump, thump, thump.'
Stocky in build, Alvy often wears what's appropriate for him and his stature. Unfortunately, Alvy doesn't reach incredible heights (as evident in the stockiness of his physique; barrel chested, and muscle definition that's rather easily identifiable, and often bulky; he stands at 5'3") and so he often doesn't wear things that make him relatively boxy or shorter. Stripes are usually the bane of his existence (though, sometimes he'll wear a striped tank top anyways), but he likes, mostly, to wear things that are comfortable. And usually that's not the uniforms Salem makes them wear, so style really isn't something that matter during school.
In voice, Alvy has a rather high tenor, though the actual pitch is often hidden under a slight vocal fry, especially evident in held out notes. That fry falls back to the nonchalant tone he uses, giving him a somewhat lazy quality that's only slightly mismatched whenever he hits his high-energy ceiling. Regardless, it's got a mildly soothing quality to it, and, due to having an natural inclination toward music, it can take on a sing-song aspect that's somewhat light and airy, though still vaguely relaxed. Even in his tone of voice, Alvy has a rather strong, distinct New England accent. He's been a victim of using the terms, "Ayuh," and, "Wicked," more often than he'd like. "Ayuh, that Alvy sure is single-minded."
Of all things, Alvy's laugh carries a distinction to it that very easily identifies him. It's one that starts off restrained, as if he's holding it in, until it bursts into a high pitched machine gun prattle that only ever rises in volume. And then it falls into a suffocating, squeak of a gasp that often preludes to Alvy falling out of whatever he's sat himself in - and he'll always find a seat to laugh, which is a giant cue he's about to go on a tangent. His snicker resigns to the held-in giggle that usually starts off the rest of his laughter.
H O U S EGood
Y E A RYear Seven
E L E C T I V E S❖ Care of Magical Creatures
❖ Muggle Studies
❖ Alchemy
B E S T C L A S S❖ Defense Against the Dark Arts (lowkey Muggle Studies, but don't tell anyone)
W O R S T C L A S S:❖ Charms
C L U B S❖ Choir - Tenor
❖ Herbology
❖ Good Quidditch Captain - Seeker
W A N DBlackthorn Wood, Rougarou Hair Core; 10 1/2 inches with extreme rigidity (a wand that has been passed down many, many generations)
P A T R O N U SFennec Fox
B O G G A R TA man in black turns, his face shrouded in a veil of thin, oily shadow; he proffers his hand, the ruffles of his cloak shaking like the feathers of a great, winged beast. Talons unveil from the sleeve, long fingers of metal that look more like a gauntlet than a hand. The other reaches to unmask the visage, claws clinking against the oily material until a latch hisses and the mask slides off. A man - his father - smiles from the other side, half of his face gnarled and rotten. He leans in further, his hand out, palm up, his smile growing the closer he comes. His spine seems to stretch unnaturally as he closes in, turning his palm slowly until a paper unfolds. The face deteriorates as it advances, spines rip and poke from beneath the skin and two grand, black, ram horns rip the cloth hood covering its head. It holds a contract toward Alvy, its other hand coming around to reveal his family wand dipped in blood.
"Join. Us." It croaks.The Riddikulus Charm: The creature reals back as its face sprouts a large snout until its entire head turns into a horse, the cloak turns into a giant floof of white chicken feathers mucked with tar as the body beneath turns naked aside from a pair of white briefs until the being is covered in tar and fathers. It jumps around neighing erratically and flaps its arms around like a pair of wings.
F A M I L I A RBouffe-moi - A little Ortolan bird whose origins remain a clouded mystery. That doesn't stop Alvy from making up ridiculous stories, though, it's just a known fact that he's never divulged the true tale of how he acquired little Buff. The bird itself is a curious sort, often getting his head into situations he likely shouldn't and then wondering why he fell into the mess in the first place. He's got a big pouty streak and will often make a ruckus whenever he doesn't get his way.
P E R S O N A L I T YEverything laid out in front of Alvy comprises of every piece that makes him. Or, at least, everyone who knows Alvy thinks that much. He just seems like the person who doesn't hide much, or anything at all, for that matter. Very trusting, individual, or what some people would call both naive and one-dimensional. Alvy wouldn't argue, simply because that's not what he does. If anything, Alvy avoids conflict like that plague and not because he doesn't like conflict. There's just some things he'd rather not bring out of himself, especially since everyone seems to have this idea of him that he doesn't necessarily want to dispel.
Making a name for yourself and then relying on everyone's perception of you can prove dangerous, in the long run. Sadly, Alvy let the opinions of others shape what he shows people. Everything from the nonchalant, joking attitude to the unbelievable flirt that people believe him to be. Honestly, it's not necessarily a lie, outright; what Alvy does is more so akin to lying by omission. The things he tells people are the truth, what he lets people imagine him to be - none of it is a lie. He just refuses to give people the whole picture and he supposes that's alright because it's exactly what everyone else in the world does. Supposedly.
Beneath all of the jokes and the flirting, the casual attitude that he lets people in on, Alvy contains a side of himself not many people, if any, are privy to. Like everyone, Alvy gets angry and he gets angry for good reasons; however, Alvy's anger tends to veer on the unnecessarily violent side. His thoughts turn absolutely ice cold, often compelling him to take actions he wouldn't normally take. Do things his moral compass would scream at him for. Unfortunately, those thoughts don't only rise during his states of fury, but float around often and in bursts. Sometimes they don't frequent for weeks at a time, and other times they rage in his head multiple times an hour. Dark, morbid thoughts of potentially harming those around him to ideas of ruining lives, taking people down to their lowest and destroying everything they hoped to be. Dashing of dreams or physical harm - his thoughts vary and range. Most of all, they rage and rage and push a constant pressure to do wrong, evil, harm.
This leads to Alvy distancing himself from other people, and when the voices in his head grow relentless, he isolates himself. Turning on the stone cold demeanor is effortless, removing emotion and expression from his face in order to ward those who know him, who call him a friend, away until the thoughts end and he can resume his regular self. And it hurts, every time he does it, to the point he often wonders if it'd be better just to cut all ties and become reclusive - or potentially worse than that.
Regardless, Alvy represents the lighter part of himself the majority of the time and his humor is often of the subversive nature. A lot of the things he says speak across the ranges, and doesn't usually fly over people's heads (though the more satirical aspects of his humor often do). Alvy has a lot of joy to give, but he's often stinted by his own dark thoughts and that hidden, deep, and primal calling to succumb to it.
R O M A N T I C I N T E R E S T SHonestly, out of all of the things to keep a secret, this kind of has to be? If that makes sense. At least, it's one that Alvy holds above others more to taunt than as a badge of shame. It's mostly to keep people guessing, due to the fact that Alvy's a large and enormous flirt with just about anyone. Whether they know it's genuine or not, well, that's for Alvy to know and for everyone to flounder about.
Two legs? Check.
Relatively human? Check.
Reasonably attracted to him? That's a 50/50.
It's almost a double edge sword for whenever Alvy ever does fall in love - or into a crush. There's not much of a difference between Alvy playing his usual card and sincerity. So, whenever he's gone head over heels, it's often recognizable in the way he deflates. Supposedly, it's a matter of deductive reasoning to find out exactly who the boy's got the hots for.
L I K E S❖ Muggle Culture (Muggle Music)
❖ Watching Ballet
❖ Cozy Sweaters
❖ Foam and Whip Cream on Beverages
❖ Smell of Burning Wood
❖ Condensation on Glass
❖ Feathers
D I S L I K E S❖ Being too Cold
❖ No Humor
❖ Cynicism
❖ The Smell of Peppermint
❖ Bitter Food (not bitter drinks)
❖ Screeching/Shrieking Sounds (Like a knife against glass)
❖ Tight Enclosures
H O B B I E S❖ Collecting Bird Feathers
❖ Dancing and Singing
❖ Bird Watching
❖ Gymnastics
F E A R S❖ Caves; Enclosed Spaces; Claustrophobic
❖ Being Eaten Alive
❖ Locked Rooms
B A C K G R O U N DThe Proctor family has its fingers stuck in every pot in the Republic that it's a challenge not to see one in a high position. A position in which they can safely secure their family throne - not a prominent power, by God no, but a definite power within the wizarding community itself. They're more frequent in politics and the like than they are at the head of anything, really. Their ambition usually settles for acquiring security in their own fortune, rather than going cutthroat for the big wig positions. They leave all of that to the individuals that contain some form of capacity or skill to do the job well. More likely, they leave people in positions of power that are easily swayed, whether by a silver tongue or a hefty amount of money or a power exchange. The Proctors often lie in the backgrounds, taking advantage of their numbers and their own snake like skills in order to keep what they've worked so hard for.
Of course, absolute power corrupts absolutely and though the Proctor family has none today (supposedly), its roots lead back to an infamous John Proctor, accused of being a dark wizard - as well as being hanged for a witch during the Salem Trials. There was no saving this man. However, his legacy thrived in his wife, Elizabeth Proctor; however, unbeknownst to him young Abigail Williams birthed one of his children. A dark witch who found cowardice to be her only ally in both the muggle world and the wizarding one. She resides in countless legends that mar her name, paint her as a villainess, or simply both - though, one thing they always get right is her uncanny ability to flee. Regardless, Abigail Williams birthed many of the Proctors to this day.
After the Salem Witch Trials died down, Abigail Williams took to taking care of her child in order to raise her predecessor. She went under the guise of a distant cousin to Elizabeth Proctor and knowingly melded the two families together in a bid to spite the name and potentially John Proctor's legacy, as well. Many of the Proctors, to this day, are indeed descendants of Abigail Williams, though just as many have lineage tied to Elizabeth and John Proctor themselves. Not many truly know, much less are even privy to Abigail's meddling in the family tree.
Alvy Proctor comes from this line of people, cementing his name in history books simply as part of a family tied to the Salem Witch Trials. It's not very prestigious, but modern Proctors expect much of younger generations. As such, Alvy Proctor only ever got the best in life, simply because his father both wanted Alvy to know of his "royalty" and because a Proctor must remain ahead of the game. So, Alvy had numerous challenges in his early life up to his inducting into the Salem Witch Institute - he still has many challenges both laid out before him and at present.
Most of Alvy's life consisted of growing up in a Pureblood household, being exposed to so much magic in his early age and being challenged even to learn that magic, even without a wand. Being the only child of Ormand and Adriane, when Alvy came of age (in their eyes, which was like seven), they passed their oldest family heirloom to their one and only child: a dark brown wand embedded with rougarou. It felt unwieldy and firm, and though his parents never told him, the wand had been known never to quite work for those who'd used it - the main component behind passing it down a generation. It seemed picky and unsuited to those who possessed it, even to the one who'd first had the wand, itself. Though it hasn't brought much trouble in his recent time at Salem, the wand has still felt off whenever used, as if it's very reluctant to even be used.
Through Alvy's years at Salem, he hasn't quite made much of a name for himself, behind being potentially a class clown or just the resident cool guy. Cool guy in that he's very relaxed and chill when approached. The one thing just about everyone knows Alvy for, though, is the fact that he's exposed much of the students (those that don't know much of the muggle world) to muggle music of all kinds. Due to the effects of magic on technology, Alvy makes certain that, during his summers and short times in the muggle world, he uses a spell that can record and mimic sound around him. He's been known to spend hours, upon hours just holed up in a room with great sound quality just listening to whatever he can. Not only that, but he spends his time dabbling in dance and choreography, but mostly gymnastics. His mother's been known to do a whole lot of yoga and Alvy, when not attending Salem, spends a lot of his mornings learning and doing what he can with her. In other words, Alvy's flexible to an intense degree.
Coming to Salem for his last and final year, Alvy's been ruminating under a heavy cloud he's attributed to the anxieties of what he'll do after SWI. Unfortunately, and something he truly does know and willingly ignores, is that the cloud is much more sinister than that and the shadows hanging over him wait for the perfect moment to strike and engulf him in the terrible secret he knows his family is hiding until the exact right moment. When he's most vulnerable. When everything around him collapses and he has but only one choice.
Member
Snowdrops
Damo021
