Mivuli

Closed.

@HaleyTheRandom Haha, I'm more worried about whether or not Zeke'll be accepted or need any changes. But Alva sounds like a real cool character! I do think Zeke will enjoy her company and be amused by her energy (warning: he'll also probably like to ruffle her hair a lot). Right now though I'm not sure if Zeke trusts anyone - I'm still reading through the CSes and trying to figure Zeke out - but I think he would be endeared a lot towards her spunkiness

Closed.

Thanks for reading!

Zeke Rowle/Slytherin

_{Zeke Rowle}

_{"I'm just a mirror, darling, and none of us are all that pretty."}

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More Than Just A Name

Name:

Ezekiel “Zeke” Anthony Rowle

Nickname:

Zeke

Birth Date:

31 October

Age:

17

Sexuality:

Bisexual

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Eyes Of The Beholder

In Depth Appearance:

Zeke’s most notable feature would have to be his hair, a testament for a Metamorphmagus gene somewhere in his DNA code that he think he got from an ancestor back in the Victorian era. Flaming red and unruly as bramble – but soft as cotton – Zeke easily stands out in any crowd. Standing 185cm (6’) and weighing 67kg (147lb), if his hair doesn’t first get your attention, his posture likely will. Zeke tends to slouch, and he is often caught with his hands in his pockets, or with his dark brown eyes staring into the distance as his lips whistle an indistinct tune. He has a whole range of facial expressions, though the most common ones would be various interpretations of scowls. His eyes however always remain bright and alert. Neither muscly nor buff, Zeke has an average physique that could be described as lanky. It’s hard to tell if his shoulders are broad, because he habitually rounds them in a sag. His complexion hangs between pale and relatively-tan, since he doesn’t get out much. Zeke has a lip piercing, which he can detach but would rather not. For the interests of remaining recognisable, Zeke tends to keep his bright shocking mane and doesn’t alter the rest of his appearance much, unless very keen to.

Clothing Style:

Zeke has a severe weakness for scuffed sneakers, jeans with scars running up and down their lengths, old bomber jackets and wooly hoodies in the autumn. On a good day, he might look like he had just come off the streets. On a bad day – well, perhaps we shouldn’t explore the possibility. He enjoys casual clothes and his nightwear often comprises of graphic tees and pants.

Tattoos | Scars | Markings:

One lip piercing, and a scar on his jawline just above his chin he got when someone decked him two years ago.

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Behind The Mask

Likes:

• Integrity
• Hot drinks
• Being indoors while rain beats against stone walls
• Reading
• Muggle movies
• Emotional connections
• Being understood

Dislikes:

• Having control wrenched out of his hands
• Being made to feel powerless
• Baseless first impressions
• Meeting new people
• Losing out

Fears:

• Having no chance to prove himself
• Screwing up that one chance
• Losing sight of what is important – he thinks he could already be on his way there

Personality:

♦ Bitter ♦ Guarded ♦ Sly ♦ Ruthless ♦

Zeke likes to keep his cards close to his chest. He doesn’t think he can trust people with his life-story, so he tends to keep mum about that unless his lips have been loosened – with drinks or bribes. But if presented with the latter, Zeke could very well be lying. He could be said to be suspicious, or unnaturally disbelieving of people. Then again, he isn’t entirely dependable himself. If Zeke catches sight of a goal and develops an affinity for it, he would be hard-pressed to let it go. Not stepping on toes while he reaches for what he wants, but instead stepping around obstructing figures, is a new paradigm for him that remains largely unexplored. Manipulation and fibs have been stepping stones for Zeke to take advantage of so far.

Zeke tends to reflect – project your thoughts onto him, and he just might throw them back at you. It makes pinning him down as a study difficult, and he likes it that way. He also has a penchant for holding grudges. He places no little effort in focusing on what is before him every day, so wrongs that pass his way are not easily forgiven, much less forgotten. Discerning, scrutinising and a caustic sceptic at heart, Zeke is not very tolerant of bullshit and lying to him is sure to get his guard up – or at best his tongue sharp and wagging. Which is ironic – and perhaps hypocritical of him – since he employs less-honourable tactics to get his way at times (though in his defense, only under urgent need).

All in all, Zeke seems like a very distasteful caricature of a person. He keeps people at arm’s length, though he could be easily persuaded to lean closer into house-mates or people like him to spot the similarities. He does everything – the consequential and the petty – intensely, with his heart, and this takes a toll on him daily. He’s a study in contrasts, and while he likes his own solitude, he knows how lonely his own head can be.

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Delving Deeper

Background:

Ezekiel “Zeke” Anthony Rowle – though for the love of all that is good and holy please do not call him Ezekiel – was born into a well-off, pureblood family. His parents were decent, and he had been taught from young to be respectful, compassionate, and compromising. Perhaps his parents were trying to wash the stain off their name, one generation at a time, because they were closely – if not directly (it got so hard to keep track of criss-crossing family trees sometimes) – related to another Rowle who had been an active follower of Lord Voldemort during the Second Wizarding War.

The aristocrats were always the worst class of people, who gossiped the most and behaved pettishly, and Zeke received no end of mocking and heckling from his peers of similar blood and class for being a Rowle. The status quo had been tipped on its ear. Zeke absolutely hated the undisguised stares his family received in public; how mothers would pull their children by their stunted hands across the street he was walking down; and how wizards and witches in Diagon Alley pointed them wordlessly towards the dingy shadows of Knockturn Alley – without fail – every time they thought to visit Flourish and Blotts or Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. They had been verbally-accosted before, though it was an occasional occurrence, and Zeke can remember being accused of being a Muggle-Hater more than once. His parents would tell him not to pay them any mind, to keep his head up. They tipped the soothing words into the shell of his ear as blood pounded in his head and his hair turned alarming shades until the stream of words replayed verbatim, an assuaging melody, and his locks smoldered back to black with streaks of copper, embers waiting to be relit into a roaring blaze at the slightest provocation. After all, it was a specific breed of people who were offensive and brazen enough; they weren’t worth his anger.

Zeke listened, at first. Initially desperate to prove them wrong, he took to Muggle clothing. After a few debacles involving currency conflicts in clothing lines, he had an entire wardrobe full of vests, jeans and hoodies, while his robes and curve-toed boots were crammed into a corner. Looking back, he doesn’t know why he even thought that would work, but he hasn’t changed his fashion since.

After a while, Zeke’s attempts turned into apathy, and then hardened into bitter rancours. It didn’t matter that he crossed other children with a smile and a wave, if they all ran away screaming with cries of murder, followed by shrill laughter while he watched their backs disappear. It didn’t matter that he shook hands and greeted adult wizards politely, if their smiles slipped off their faces faster than essence of eel when they asked for his name and he answered with a reluctant grimace. His name was a bad rep, and no matter what he did he never could seem to convince people to look past what he had been born with to see anything else. And so his smiles turned to glowers. His waves turned into a pointed finger while he whispered “Avada kedavra,” so the children had a soundtrack to their game, a reason to turn their laughter into terrified shrieks. He met grown-ups with deadpan stares and offered his name before he did his hand so he wouldn’t have to feel theirs stiffen and quickly rescinded. He turned aspirations into ambitions, and humoured charm into cunning. Somewhere, along the line, in trying to prove people wrong, Zeke had come to accept that they were right.

Extra:

Fred and George Weasley – no splitting hairs there!

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Hogwarts Information

House:

Slytherin

Year:

7th

Blood Status:

Pure Blood

Wand:

Made from apple, with a dragon heartstring core, Zeke’s wand is 14 inches and supple.

Familiar:

Black raven

Patronus:

Northern Goshawk

Professor?

No

Death Eater?

No

Quidditch?

Beater, if he plays

Extracurricular Activities?

None at the moment

Closed.

@HushedWhispers Noted, for all. I'll try to get a CS up today, but I have my exams tomorrow. I'll do my best!

Closed.

Haha! Oh, I see, that's a pleasant surprise! Is there a deadline I should try to get a CS in by?

Closed.

Hi, sorry for intruding. I'm guessing that you may not be open anymore, but I figured I might ask?

Looking for several partners 1x1[Casual/Advanced]

Hey, you've got some cool ideas!

Rica's FxF 18+ 1x1 Hunt Fandom and Original (Updated Consistently)

@Rica Sent you a PM (:

Closed.

@dee Can I just say your avater, signature - your everything - is giving me life?

Closed.

Lim Ming Hua, Noah

With messy and overgrown hair that looks chestnut under a bright light but otherwise appears raven-black and can never be tamed with a comb, Ming Hua (or Noah, he has no preference) has a rather scruffy appearance. Thin and lanky, with lean muscles that aren’t prominent enough to intimidate anyone, really, Ming Hua is made up entirely of odd edges and curves, tapered fingers and chin and olive skin. He stands 1.77m (5’8”) and weighs 55kg (121lb), making for a slight and lightweight figure. He has black eyes that glitter when he smiles, and grow – somehow – darker when he glowers. He looks fine-boned, delicate even, but he can hold his own fair enough. He has a mouth that loves to curve into a smile – the smaller and more teasing, the better – and feet that are quick to side-step him out of any sticky situation.

Age:

15

Gender:

Male

Birthday:

30 November

Age:

Mutant

Power: Speed

As is probably easy to guess, Ming Hua can accelerate incredibly fast. He has always liked to sprint, used to spend his days running away from a raised hand, but that has taken on new meaning now that he could probably run a hundred-meter dash under three seconds without losing breath. He used to perform magic tricks to entertain the younger kids in his primary school, and sleight of hand has reached new levels now that his agility has improved tremendously. Landing punches on him or focusing on him as a target in general is made more difficult when Ming Hua just can’t keep still.

Coates

Personality:

Ming Hua is deft when he moves, and his tongue is just as smart and quick. Often delivering raw truth in more palatable forms of raw humour, he prefers not to bar honesty from people. He tends to say lack of integrity is a form of disrespect – and he does believe that, to a degree – but he really just enjoys being frank. Mostly because he is his own harshest critic, and isn’t inclined to spare others from his barbed tongue. At the same time, this doesn’t define Ming Hua as a heartless boy who will crush souls and dreams and call it a game. He is a decent human being, with empathy and compassion, and he tries to treat others the way he would like to be treated.

He can be deceptive at times, and when the going gets tough he will not be afraid to do what it takes to survive. But on a good day, he’s largely a pacifist: meaning that, in a confrontation, he would rather negotiate a compromise rather than bulldoze his way over the opposite party, simply because he wouldn’t like to be steamrolled over himself. It makes the confrontation less fun, and short-lived. Ming Hua isn't innocent to the ills that plague the world; he's seen them, and experienced some. But when it comes to worldly matters, he could be considered relatively fresh-faced.

He has a persistence about him that has borne him far in his brief lifespan and, when coupled with a penchant for laughter and cheekiness, moulds the mischievous boy you see before you, with a heart stemmed in sobriety and a – very much hidden – capacity for seriousness.

Brief History:

Ming Hua was born in Southeast Asia, and spent the better part of his early childhood in Singapore. He spent five years with a gang of ragtag rapscallions older than him who – when not pickpocketing or slipping roti (bread) from bakeries – taught him how to have fun, even with a growling stomach or a parched throat. There was no end to play in their dingy little alley where they were kings and queens of rubbish and cockroaches, but the easy life soon came to an end when authorities rounded them up and displaced them into proper homes.

It took Ming Hua another three years to settle into comfortable nights under a roof and blankets, huddled behind brick walls from the mercy – or lack thereof – of the cold. It took a little more than that for him to properly warm up to his foster parents, though he has never called them by the endearments Mama and Papa. He remembers little from the subsequent years of home, education, and drudging normalcy, but when time is sluggish his mind often turns to memories of his first friends, and their daily escapades on the streets involving angry merchants they’d stolen from. His foster parents – and himself – agree he came in a feral child of sorts, only he thinks of the term wistfully whereas they seem glad to have scrubbed that persona away from him. But sometimes – when he drifts between sleep and wakefulness, when a hulk of a school-boy shoves him roughly out of the way – he can see the black wide eyes of a boy from another lifetime staring back at him with an unsaid question, hollowed from constant hunger but brimming with the twinkling joy of an unleashed stray.

There is a certain beauty in free savagery, and just as many creature comforts to be had in structure and order.

Ming Hua was then relocated to America to further his studies overseas – it had always been a dream of his foster parents – and he has been under the homestay programme with a Mrs Rochester and her sallow husband. He took up the second name Noah after his first day in school when the teachers who tried to introduce him to the class butchered his Chinese name horribly, and he figured Ming Hua in America could be more of a nickname to the people who could pronounce it.

When the disappearing occurred, and the Rochesters disappeared from their home, Noah relived the freedom for but a second, before the mass disorderly chaos of the kids who had remained turned him off it. He liked his share of destruction, to be sure, but the scale at which it was being taken to was downright ridiculous. Despite his distaste, Noah began to align with the Coates rather than the Townies. He would follow his own rules; they could go about breaking someone else’s. But he feels irked by the Townie-Coate system, seeing as he doesn’t feel cemented in either. Noah thinks of himself more as a straggler, a bird to perch on the fence who could be swayed to either side at a turn of the wind. He’s not big on swearing allegiance so early in the war, and could easily be persuaded to defect to another side without much compunction.

Theme Song

Be My Buddy?

Hey! I wouldn't mind Arabian King/Prince x Servant or Criminal x Detective. What say you?