Stamina - 9 | Evasion - 9 | Strength - 8 | Wisdom - 7 | ArcPower - 5 | Accuracy - 8
+1 from Broom Racing Win (x)

Approved

Approved

Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 9 | Strength: 6 | Wisdom: 5 | Arc Power: 6 | Accuracy: 6

Approved

Approved

[quote][size=125][b][u]Extracurricular Activities[/b][/u][/size][/quote]
[quote]
[b][u]Is your character a Broom Racer?[/u][/b] NO

[b][u]Is your character a Quidditch Player?[/u][/b] YES, CHASER

[b][u]Is your character a Duelist?[/u][/b] NO
[/quote]
[quote][size=125][b][u]Stats[/b][/u][/size][/quote]
[quote][list]
[*] Stamina: 10
[*] Evasion: 8
[*] Strength: 5
[*] Wisdom: 7 
[*] Arcane Power: 5
[*] Accuracy: 5 [/list][/quote]
[quote][size=125][b][u]Abilities[/b][/u][/size][/quote]
[quote]
[i][u]First Year: Fearless[/u][/i]
[size=75][i]Word Count: 498/400[/i][/size]

[reducio]Louca had always been the first to agree to do….well, anything. His parents believed in experiences and that showed in all of the things Louca had done in his somewhat short life. He had jumped off of cliffs, with bungee cords or into a body of water, he had swam in cages with the sharks and he had free soloed several cliffs. Those were only a few of his accomplishments. It seemed clear to his parents that there was something about their son that was special.

In the conversations he had had with marks, tourists and passersby, Louca had all heard them describe this feeling they had whenever they were about to do something they were afraid of. It made no sense to Louca. He couldn’t understand that others would be sweating, cowering, or even just refusing to do something, their heart pounding, hyperventilating. Instead he had felt exhilaration, and joy, an eagerness to beat the challenge. But he just shrugged it off figuring the exhilaration was likely fear, or he was misremembering things to make himself seem cooler.

It wasn’t until Louca was 8 and had decided to go free soloing on a cliff that rose close to 15 feet above the flat ground near where his family had set up their camp. He had climbed almost to the top, only losing a foot hold or hand hold once or twice, and it was nothing to grab back on to the rock. He felt nothing in that moment but joy and excitement, even looking down just made him excited to finish the climb. Louca came to an area of the cliff where there was a much larger gap between the next handhold then he had thought, it was more than he could reach, and Louca determined that if he was going to make it, he was going to have to do a jump, and grab a very precise rock and pull himself up with that one handhold. 

Louca didn’t hesitate, although his heart did begin to beat faster, but that was not from fear of missing or falling, instead it was excitement that he was actually going to do this and defy gravity even for a little bit.

Throwing his body to where it needed to be, Louca whooped out loud when his hand grabbed hold. Pulling himself up so he could place his feet where they needed to be to help hold his body, Louca realized that this truly was not fear, and that he had just done something with no gear, that most adults would fear to do (though they likely would have had the arm span or leg span to cross the gap). That was also when he realized that, no, he had been right in that he had not experienced fear, and instead had just been trying to fit other people’s experience into his own. Determined that he would not do so any longer, Louca finished his climb, grinning from ear to ear.
[/reducio]
[i][u]Second Year: Rapid Reviver[/u][/i]
[size=75][i]Word Count: 498/400[/i][/size]
[reducio]

Louca, as was his normal, had been out exploring the woods near the town that they had just moved to. It was something he did alone, frequently disappearing for a few hours to just enjoy the nature and beyond that it was something to do. Sometimes he just hiked, other times he found bodies of water and took a swim, and the best of times he found a tree or cliff side or something that he could climb. He had no fear and he loved the challenge that climbing presented, especially without a harness as a backup safety net. It got his brain working and his blood pumping. Louca enjoyed the rush and it kept him sharp. 

But today he had decided that he would hike and scout out some locations to visit later. Especially as this was the first time he had explored the forest since they moved here. He may have no fear but he also wasn’t stupid, and if he was going to go climbing, he let his parents know so that at least if he didn’t come back in a certain amount of time then they would know the general area to search for him. He had also learned to only explore for two hours at a time, checking back in with his parents throughout the day. It was a good thing to do to keep his parents from worrying but also because he never knew when they would pack up and move to the next place. There had been times he went exploring only to come back and everything be packed and ready to go.

In his exploring he did come across people sometimes but had not expected it on this trip as it seemed like the house they were renting was the only one close to the forest. But apparently he was wrong, he heard a few branches cracking and then the thump of something landing on the ground to the left of him. Curious, Louca crept carefully towards where he thought the sound had originated, surprised when he arrived to see a small figure at the base of a fairly large pine tree. Hurrying closer, he noticed their eyes were closed. Unsure of what to do he inched closer, trying to decide what to do. He could see their chest moving slightly so at least they were alive, but it seemed they were unconscious and Louca was not certain if he should move them or what even he could do. He kneeled on the ground, placing his hand towards the back of the kid’s head, trying to determine if there was something there, when their eyes flew open and they sat with a gasp. Scurrying backward, Louca asked quietly [b] “Are you okay?”[/b] Waiting until they moved their limbs and gave a shaky nod, Louca walked alongside them until they got to the edge of the woods before turning back to where he believed his house to be without a word.
[/reducio][/quote]

Approved

NPC Name: Theodore Duncain
Link: Here!
Year: Third Year (Moving up to Fourth Year)
Abilities:
Catch-426 Words
If one thinks of Theodore Duncain, one could probably think of quite a few things. Starting with his seemingly always great mood, his love for adventures, his tolerance and patience, but not to forget, his desire to make sure that the people he cares about are fine. Being the oldest of four children, he had been taught to take care of them at a very young age already. It wasn't like Charlize and Virgil Duncain weren't the most loving parents imaginable, but with the little money the family had, both parents were working hard.

And while the Duncain parents were working to get six hungry mouths fed, it was often up to Theo to take care of the three youngest, make sure that they did their homework and keep them entertained after school so their parents could work in peace.
With his invitation to Ilvermorny, everything had changed. After the first mistrust in something so surreal, Theo's parents were actually really excited for their eldest son to take the chance he had been given and also successfully persuaded him to go after promising him repeatedly that they would be fine as well as his siblings.

So Theo left and naturally found some friends at Ilvermorny soon. Having taken care of his younger siblings all his life, there was suddenly a gap to fill and just as naturally his new friend from Ilvermorny began to fill that gap. Theo became the kind of friend that would always try and cheer people up, but also protect them in more serious situations.

Perhaps that made it all the more ironic that he joined first one dangerous sport in which trees were literally out to kill the players and next one that involved metal balls that would attempt to knock kids off their brooms. His task was clear, keep those metal balls in check, but that did not at all mean that Theo didn't pick a different task for himself. While he liked Quidditch, attempting to injure people wasn't really his thing, so he tried very much to just protect his team and hit bludgers somewhere, where no one was who could get hurt.

And if there was the occasional player falling of their broom, well... Theo left his post without thinking about it twice. If the young thunderbird could help it, none of his classmates would ever fall to hit the ground, in fact he had become pretty good at spotting and catching them before they hit the ground- yes, unfortunately that did include one or the other opponent.

Trunk Coding:

Code: Select all

[center][/center]
[quote][center]Stamina: 10
Evasion: 8
Strength: 9
Wisdom: 8
Arcane Power: 9
Accuracy: 11
[revelio]Total: 55 Stat Points (5 from duel wins)[/revelio][/center][/quote]

[quote][center][b]Quidditch Player - Beater[/b][/center][/quote]

[quote][quote][center][b]Ability 1: The Muggle Condition[/b][/center] [reducio]
[b]Why does it fit my character?[/b]
Theo had no idea of magic before he was told of it and it had opened up a new world to him. He does not longer waste time on muggle abilities, which he can easily replace with magic, but he had to for eleven years. 
The young boy grew up in the muggle world, visited a muggle kindergarden and a muggle pirmary school. Whe he had still visited school, his only target had been to get to the best possible secondary school. And then magic got inbetween. But since he had never expected it, he acquired the skills that one just learns when one is young and spends a lot time with other boys. Not to mention simply loves to provoke others. And just can't resist to put a toe across the boarder, as soon as the consequences become acceptable.

Theo knows how to throw punches. He knows how to physically fight. He even learned how to do it secretly, after it got him and his parents in front of the principal a few times. 

Although he doesn't necessarily need those skills anymore, now that he learns many very interesting spells, he has noticed, that thisseems to be exactly what all those purebloods are thinking. They didn't think it would be necessary to acquire certain skills that might be more important in the muggle world. Theo simply loves to get them by surprise through easy muggle tricks. 

Just before he went to Ilvermorny, he even took his time to learn simple muggle card trick to brag. It works perfectly and he is extremely proud of it. 
Through simple muggle games, Theo has made himself a name at Ilvermorny, used his bloodline for his own advantage. 
Sometimes he questions it. Sometimes he thinks that something might be wrong with him, as there are only very few muggle borns at Ilvermorny, secretly of course, Theodore Duncain has no insecurities. 

But in the end he is a creative and optimistic boy. He can see opportunities in almost every bad situation. Theo knows a lot about muggle technology as well and he just likes to show off the aditional knowledge he has. Of course he made sure to inform himself about the magical world before he started to  show his knowledge off, it would have been embarassing if someone could have shut him off with one seemingly simple question about the wizarding world. No, Theodore Duncain, the muggleborn would not stop trying until his circumstances helped him go up in the 'hierarchy' of students.[/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][b]Ability 2: Calming Presence[/b][/center][reducio][b]Why does it fit my character?[/b]
Theodore grew up, always carrying the responsibility one automatically carries being the oldest kid amongst a bunch of younger siblings. It was him, who was responsible for looking after the three others on their way to school, him, who made it his task to be there for his little sister, the only girl, as much as the two other boys, as hard as it was for a while. He always valued the bond he had with his siblings, and it was undenyable him, who convinced the three that they were invincible as long as they stuck together.

That dream image didn't quite work like he hoped it would. Theo's siblings would stick with him- but seperately. Amongst themselves the twins and Anabelle were almost indifferent about one another. It was Theo then, who tried to be the counterpart for Anabelle, that the twins were for one another, and at the same time to be the cool older brother for the twins.
That on the other hand did work. Where other siblings might have tried to avoid there siblings in public, even pretended not to have one, out of puberty embarassment, Theo was a cool older brother for them, who they went to when they had issues in school, with other children or were scared of something.

As the oldest, it was mostly him, who his parents asked for help or shared their worries with. Even after entering puberty, he was still the least troublesome of the siblings and took a great deal of stress off his parents' backs. The boy was pretty much carrying the whole family on his back, and while it might have stressed out other childre, Theo was happy to make his family happy, or at least make things easier for them. While on the outside it looked like they were simply a family that could work perfectly well together, the family knew that it was Theo, who was keeping it together. It was visible when he was in school longer than his siblings were. When he came home, he would often walk in to his mother yelling at the twins, but it would most of the times stop immediately. At home it always seemed like Theo was radiating calmness. It was a place he knew, he felt safe at, a place where he always had things under control.

Things changed after he went to Ilvermorny. He exchanges owls with Ana, but although her vague responses never include any negative things, he is sure, that there is a lot of chaos at home. After he got used to the school, he went back to his rather calm self. At least when he is not provoked. If one doesn't know him, he can seem a little intimidating, as he likes to tease and joke around with people, but when it is serious, danger or simply the need to talk, he would not let anyone down. In one on one conversations, one would feel that calming presence particularly strong.
One thing, that his sister Anabelle said before he went to go to Ilvermorny, made him think for a long while.
[i]"Theo, you are the anchor of ship Duncain. We'll be drifting away for a while, without a doubt. But we'll get back on course. If there is no anchor, we have a steering wheel. If it gets serious, we can all navigate this ship."[/i][/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][b]Ability 3: Blindvision[/b][/center][reducio][b]Why does it fit my character?[/b] Sometimes Theo himself cannot quite believe how sharp his own senses are, especially in the darkness. He is a person who enjoys colours, naturally he is more wary in the dark. Perhaps it has something to do with his family. The young boy is muggleborn and when he got his invitation to Ilvermorny, his dad sat at his bed and had a long talk with him. He had told Theodore that he always knew that his eldest son was different, that he always had a feeling that eventually something like this would happen. But in the first place he had warned Theo. Although Virgil Duncain had no knowledge of what would await Theo in the magical world, he had told him to be careful, to watch his back. For the muggle man, magic was a word that belonged into fairytales and stories, not into the real world- His Theodore was going to a place neither of them could imagine, a place that was separate from the world he knew. Maybe his father's words had made him be more careful.

Maybe it simply came with being an older brother. Steve and Elias are Theo's two younger twin brothers, and while he loves them, they have always given him a reason to watch his own back as well as theirs. It was quite possible that the two boys got the joy from playing little pranks from their older brother, Theodore learned very soon that it was a bad idea not to watch whatever he touched, ate or put on. Once they had collected some beetles and put them into his bed. Theo had hesitated to go to bed on that evening, all his senses telling him not to and so he found the insects und his blanket. 
After some years he had developed something like a sensor for dangers in the dark. Sometimes, although he probably only imagined it, he just almost smelled it, like a bad sent in the air. The hairs on his arms prickling for seemingly no reason. 

Theodore always got along with his younger Sister Anabelle very well, the two of them could as well be the same age, they would hardly be any closer. While the young boy enjoys every minute of his time in Ilvermorny, he promises his sister and himself every year to come back to her. That his father was right and things really tended to become dangerous in a way that... simply wasn't from this world was something he had especially noticed in Hogwarts. He didn't get into dangerous situation himself so far, but he had heard stories of murderous dolls, things he would prefer to stay in horror movies and not come to life. All that added to the slight paranoia he developed in the dark. Who was to say that the shadows wouldn't come to life?

It is not like the young Thunderbird could really see in the dark, while he was magical, he was certainly not Magic Mike. But since he had set foot into the magical world, his senses were sharp like they had never been before, he simply had a feeling. He didn't always need his eyes to know what was happening in front of him.
[/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][b]Ability 4: Catch[/b][/center][reducio]If one thinks of Theodore Duncain, one could probably think of quite a few things. Starting with his seemingly always great mood, his love for adventures, his tolerance and patience, but not to forget, his desire to make sure that the people he cares about are fine. Being the oldest of four children, he had been taught to take care of them at a very young age already. It wasn't like Charlize and Virgil Duncain weren't the most loving parents imaginable, but with the little money the family had, both parents were working hard.

And while the Duncain parents were working to get six hungry mouths fed, it was often up to Theo to take care of the three youngest, make sure that they did their homework and keep them entertained after school so their parents could work in peace.
With his invitation to Ilvermorny, everything had changed. After the first mistrust in something so surreal, Theo's parents were actually really excited for their eldest son to take the chance he had been given and also successfully persuaded him to go after promising him repeatedly that they would be fine as well as his siblings.

So Theo left and naturally found some friends at Ilvermorny soon. Having taken care of his younger siblings all his life, there was suddenly a gap to fill and just as naturally his new friend from Ilvermorny began to fill that gap. Theo became the kind of friend that would always try and cheer people up, but also protect them in more serious situations.

Perhaps that made it all the more ironic that he joined first one dangerous sport in which trees were literally out to kill the players and next one that involved metal balls that would attempt to knock kids off their brooms. His task was clear, keep those metal balls in check, but that did not at all mean that Theo didn't pick a different task for himself. While he liked Quidditch, attempting to injure people wasn't really his thing, so he tried very much to just protect his team and hit bludgers somewhere, where no one was who could get hurt.

And if there was the occasional player falling of their broom, well... Theo left his post without thinking about it twice. If the young thunderbird could help it, none of his classmates would ever fall to hit the ground, in fact he had become pretty good at spotting and catching them before they hit the ground- yes, unfortunately that did include one or the other opponent. [/reducio][/quote][/quote]

Approved

That link is NOT to your character's encyclopedia. That brings me to an roleplay in the Owlery. I took the time to find it -- here, please save future e or whichever admin does this next time the effort/time of looking next time, verifying these is a long day.

Old Stats:

Stamina: 6 [+2 graduation] = 8
Evasion: 8
Strength: 7 [+1 graduation] = 8
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 6
Accuracy: 6 [+2 graduation] = 8

Total: 45

New Stats

Stamina: 10
Evasion: 10
Strength: 10
Wisdom: 8
Arcane Power: 6
Accuracy: 12

Total: 56

This matches what Katrina has for stats but I do not know where those stats came from. for future updates, please tell me where the extra (1) stats are coming from.

All updates and new abilities have been Approved

[quote][center]sport
Broom racer[/center][/quote]
[center]Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 8| Wisdom: 6
Arcane Power: 5| Accuracy: 7

[quote]Abilities
Year one, calming presence[reducio]Nick has always made people calm. It may be because he can change the mood to a happy one, or the fact that he is normally always calm. Never angry or sad, at least he doesn't show it. Whenever he came around people who where stressed his presence calmed them. Another reason might have been the fact that he seamed very trust worthy, he simply didn't give off the vibes of a liar. He wasn't a liar, he was extremely trustworthy.

Once his older sister Emma she had an audition for a part in a play. She really wanted the part, she was extremely stressed about it. Nick saw this, he went over to her. He didn't know how he would help, but Emma was his sister and he wanted to try. Nick let his sister practice some lines on him, and she aced them! Nick had gone to see her in the play he sat first row with his parents grandparents and siblings to see his sister preform. She didn't miss a line.

Nick started to call this thing his 'superpower' naturally his parents didn't believe him when he said that he had a superpower as they only exist in comics. They kept saying that until they experienced it themselves. When Nick had shown his first instance of magic they freaked, Nick was calm and thought that his confetti burp was quite humorous. His parents noticed how calm there child was and calmed down a bit, not entirely but some. Probably because he didn't seem in pain. As his parents tried to comfort him, Nick was trying to comfort his parents.

Another example of his superpower was when one of his muggle friends had scraped there knee when they fell of a bike. Nick stayed calm, and never left his friends side. Doing so grandly helped stop his friends tears. Even if it was just a scraped knee. He stayed until an adult who had a first aid kit came and put a band aid on his friends knee. His friend was to scared to get back onto his bike. Nick saw this and helped his friend get back onto his bike, and in Nicks words "show the bike who was the boss" his friend got back on the bike.

His 'superpower' had never went away. It stayed for what will be forever! Nick loved his power as it helped him help out people.

WC: 406[/reducio][/quote][/center]

]Approved

[quote][center][size=125][b]Trunk[/b][/size][/center]
[b]Stats:[/b]
- Stamina: 14
- Evasion: 10
- Strength: 12
- Wisdom: 9
- Arcane Power: 5
- Accuracy: 15

[b]Abilities:[/b]
- Calming Presence
[reducio]Phyllis, even though she didn't realize it, had a presence about her that set people at ease. Despite her reputation, which wasn't the best and would normally lead someone to be unsettled when first meeting her, she just had this easy-going nature that lent others a sense of calm. Yes, her family had associations with Dark Magic, and, yes, she was known as a troublemaker, but be it her smile, relaxed posture, or something else, perhaps intangible, she had a calming presence.

The presence first became apparent when she was four. Her family, being wealthy Pure-bloods, had a number of house elves working for them. On that day another family high in status was visiting and one of the house elves spilled tea on one of the guest's dress. Naturally, he was kicked from the room and told to go punish himself. Phyllis, feeling badly for the creature, followed. She couldn't stop him from banging his head repeatedly against the wall, but she was successful in calming the poor elf down.

Such instances came up throughout her childhood in similar manners. When she moved with her mother to Canada, Phyllis became the peacemaker in the ring of friends she found in a magical urban area. The kids she hung around were far from well-mannered and had a tendency to get into fights even amongst themselves. Phyllis was the one to break those fights up and help everyone calm down.

And in situations where Phyllis and a friend were setting up a prank, she made it easy to relax. Sure, they were in the middle of doing something that could get them into trouble, which could be a bit stressful, or one might be overly excited, but with Phyllis around they were able to execute their prank without blowing their cover.

The same carried over to Quidditch. As a first year, Phyllis hadn't made the team but even just when playing for fun her teammates found it easier to play. Even when they were down, the girl was unflappable, never getting frustrated or giving up. In her mind, so long as you kept trying there was always a chance of coming back, of winning. They just had to focus and around her doing just that was much easier.

Even without each and every situation that made it clear her presence had an effect on people, her personality alone lent itself to helping others relax. Phyllis could be intense when she wanted to, but most of the time the redhead was laid-back, carefree. Grades weren't a concern; in fact, not achieving top marks aided her goal of irritating her mother. Plus, the way she saw it, things just [i]happened[/i]. You couldn't always do anything about it, so why not just go where things took you?

To those she cared about, Phyllis was solid, unchangeably loyal. In every other aspect of her life she was unpredictable, but when it came down to her friends counting on her she wouldn't let them down for anything. It was another aspect of her that helped her friends, her allies, not worry and instead focus there energy on succeeding.

It was true that Phyllis wasn't the smartest, hence the reason she hadn't identified the aura of calm she possessed. But she didn't have to know about it for it to be there. Without a doubt, Phyllis had a calming presence.[/reducio]- Fearless
[reducio]No one was truly fearless. It simply wasn't possible for a human to not be afraid of [i]something[/i], be it spiders, the dark, losing a loved one, or one of the other numerous things there were to be scared of. All that considered, Phyllis was as close as you could get to fearless.

Growing up the way she did, Phyllis [i]had[/i] to be fearless. It was that or be scared out of her wits of what her mother might do with all her Dark Magic next. Not letting anything get to her was probably not all that smart, but Phyllis wasn't exactly known for sharp intellect. Her sometimes reckless bravery led to many a not-so-great circumstance. For instance, climbing a tree too high without checking if the branches could hold her weight. That had been a painful day, what with tumbling to the ground when the branch under her snapped and breaking her arm. It was a good thing indeed that she'd grown up with magic to fix such accidents. Or, another time when she'd jumped into an icy lake to save one of her friends even though she had no clue how to swim. She'd been awfully lucky to survive that.

Still, not being scared of just about anything had its benefits. She didn't dread big occasions, didn't have to deal with stage fright, and wasn't afraid of just walking over to someone and striking up a conversation. In relation to that calming presence she possessed, the fact she wasn't scared made it that much easier for the people around her to relax.

When the Ilvermorny students had been invited to Hogwarts and fights had broken out at the Masked Ball, she'd charged straight into them. It was far from the smart thing to do, especially since she had next to no spells under her belt and all, but that didn't mean it hadn't been proof of her lack of fear. Maybe it was just the sort of bull-headed bravery you'd expect out of Gryffindors. Maybe it would get her killed someday. It wasn't as though she were scared of the potential repercussions, so what did it matter?

There were, of course, the things she was scared of. Being in the dark alone, for instance. Her childhood had taught her full well the horrors that hid in the shadows. Water, too--when she'd tried to save her friend, she'd learned just how terrifying it felt to drown. Neither of those fears would stop her from anything, though. Phyllis would still plunge into the shadows, still jump into water if it meant saving a friend or if it needed to be done. Perhaps that was the most important thing about her, more important than being mostly fearless in the first place: when she did get scared, she faced her fears anyways. Between the fearlessness and the bravery, Phyllis would not be stopped by fright.[/reducio]- Statistically Relevant [+2 Stamina]
[reducio]Phylicia Stanwood was tough. It was apparent even when she was a toddler; if she fell down, she was going to get back up. Throughout a childhood full of often reckless pursuits of excitement, scrapes, bruises, and the occasionally broken bone were common. She was quite the adventurous little thing, and when she played, she played hard. She was always outside, running around, climbing trees, doing cartwheels, flying her toy broom, and generally looking for any way to have fun.

Over time, her outdoor activities strayed away from simple playing and more into improving her physical abilities. Her endurance was possibly the only thing she admired about her family; Stanwoods were known for never giving up. Granted, the things her parents worked at until they got what they wanted were hardly admirable, but she was going to be different. Better. And that started by being the best broom flier out there.

Zipping around the grounds surrounding her family's manor brought a whole new set of dangers. See, when Phyllis flew, she only had one speed: fast. The little girl didn't know how to go slow; she was in it for the rush of adrenaline, the feeling having the wind streak past you. Instead of the occasional tumble out of a tree, now she was running straight into them, along with boulders and the occasional fence. Perhaps the resulting head trauma caused her to become even more reckless and stupid, but she never once cried. Instead, she always got back up, grabbed her broom, and walked back to the house to get fixed up.

This resilience wasn't just physical, though. Sure, she could take her fair share of hits and keep going, but getting up required a mental aspect. She knew how to shake things off. She chose to be optimistic, to believe even through growing up with parents that mostly ignored her that things could and [i]would[/i] get better. And if she believed there was always a light at the end of the tunnel, it was easier to get back up.

In addition, over the course of her first year she took to running in the morning. It wasn't as amazing of a feeling as zipping through the air on her broom, but it still felt good, feet pounding on the ground, propelling her forward. By the end of the year she could go a pretty long time without having to stop or slow down. She felt ready to face whatever came her way. Felt ready to keep pushing through.[/reducio]- Catch
[reducio]Phyllis loved sports, and broom sports in particular. She loved winning, and even just playing, flying; the feel of wind in her hair and pushing her broom faster and faster still. But here was the thing: things like broom racing and Quidditch? They were brutal. You were playing one minute and the next you were plummeting to the ground below. A lot of the time, you didn't get back up after that. The brutality itself wasn't really Phyllis' problem with it; Merlin knew she got a little too excited to roughhouse. No, what she didn't like was losing a teammate. It happened, but no one wanted to see a teammate sprawled on the grass. No one wanted to win and then watch a teammate grapple with the delivery of the news and the fact they hadn't been able to finish the game out, and of course it was only worse when it was a loss to report. The redhead's philosophy, not that she was entirely sure what philosophy meant, was that no one should get left behind.

She lived it. In her first broom race, despite the buzz of nerves and itch to speed ahead, she hung back because her friend and teammate had a slower broom and she wasn't going to leave him in the dust. When things had gone wrong at that first Masquerade Ball, the thought of leaving without her friends never once crossed her mind. She'd never let a prank partner take the fall; either they both got out of there or they took their punishment together. Simple as that.

Maybe that was why she ended up leaving the broom racing team. It was too individual of a sport. Yes, you had a team, but the whole point was for someone to race out ahead to cross the finish line first, not so much to work together. If someone was attacked, too bad, let them be targeted so you could slip by. Combine that with the fact she'd been in love with Quidditch since she knew what it was and she had her mind made up.

As she took to the skies in a different sport, she had a new way to keep up her code. If ever a teammate was to be knocked off their broom and it was remotely possible, she'd swoop down, getting a little faster in her rapid decline each time, and tug them out of their fall. It was a lot of fun riding together, anyhow; you could hear each others' jokes that way! The team was what counted to her, rain or shine, win or lose. No one left to fall.[/reducio]- Wandmaker [Snallygaster Heartstring | Dogwood | 33 cm | Quite Flexible]
[reducio]Distant was probably the best word to describe Phyllis' relationship with her father. It was true, more or less, even before her parents split, with him so often caught up at work. Always work. Maybe that was why he didn't fight for Phyllis to stay with him, why he seemed content with only the handful of times they saw each other a year and the letters. And Phyllis was fine with that. Life held too many good things to get snagged on wishes her father wasn't so distant, literally and emotionally. She had more than enough amazing friends to make up for it.

So when one of his letters strayed from the usual, surface-level discussion of what they'd been up to, Phyllis was surprised. He wanted to see her face-to-face, to spend a few days over the summer together? They hadn't spent that kind of time, just the two of them with no social function attached, in... well, in forever. So why now?

(Phyllis knew why. It was because she'd been asked to be a part of Ilvermorny's Hexiwizard team. There'd been congratulations when she'd joined the Quidditch team, but this was different. This was enough to catch genuine attention, maybe even pride. But it hurt to think that only this was finally good enough, so she was going to keep on pretending it was just out-of-the-blue.)

Her father inquired specifically about her wand--Was she attached? Did it work well?--with an offer to take her wand shopping at the special place he'd gotten his, if she wanted. Once upon a time, he had promised a small Phyllis admiring his wand with bright, wide eyes that he would go with her to get her wand, and that hadn't happened. She'd forgotten about that. Phyllis was not hung up about this promise he was a good three years late on; she hadn't even thought about it until the letter knocked it loose from the dusty recesses of her brain. She couldn't say she even cared for these sticks wizards so treasured, for spell-casting at all. 

Actually... that wasn't true, actually. Phyllis did care, she saw things like Maxi hitting two people with one incantation and thought that was [i]so cool[/i], wanted to do it herself. But she was used to being passing, at best, with a wand, really a downright disappointment for a pureblood. So she made her identity friends and flying, instead, using magic only where she needed to. Cool things like splitting spells just weren't in the cards for Phyllis.

But maybe, just maybe, she could be better with a new wand. It couldn't be any [i]worse[/i]; there existed very little connection between her and her current wand. Something had sparked enough for it to pair with her in the first place, but something--Phyllis' lack of effort, just not meshing--had made the length of wood feel like little more than a stick. And maybe the time with her father would be nice. Somewhere inside, there was a little girl who [i]had[/i] cared, confused and missing her father, who did want that promised wand outing.

So over the summer, Phyllis would spend several days with her father back in England. On one of those days, he would take her to this wand shop. He spoke of it highly, and from what Phyllis gathered, it was prestigious, expensive. High-end was probably the right word. Thus commenced the hunt for the right wand, her father hovering excitedly at her shoulder and finding combinations for her to try. Whether to be annoyed or endeared by the interest, Phyllis wasn't sure. Some of that energy did seem to rub off on her, though, hope that perhaps she could find a new, better wand breaking through her lack of enthusiasm.

[b]Wood: Dogwood[/b]
First impressions were important, and it wasn't uncommon for people to come away from meeting Phyllis with the word [i]loud[/i] in mind. This was especially true when she was younger, the little redhead always having things to say and the projection to make sure people heard her. When she arrived at Ilvermorny, she got a bit better at managing her voice level and not talking [i]nearly[/i] so much, because she realized people found that annoying. Still, loud was a word people might think about her, and if not, extroverted, sociable, and enthusiastic certainly were.

She was talking when she picked up the wand that would become hers, making some idle joke to her father because it would be much too boring to do this in silence, and perhaps that was half of the battle in winning the wood's allegiance.

[b]Core: Snallygaster Heartstring[/b]
The wands being funneled her way were primarily of the strongest cores. It was a very intentional thing, so that even Phyllis, with her limited knowledge of wand components, could notice. That was hardly a surprise, she was sure her father would be happiest if she came out with what was the best possible wand on paper. But she felt nothing with those--she didn't really think she had the necessary power, or whatever--and eventually their search expanded, which is how she ended up with a wand of Snallygaster Heartstring in hand. Did Phyllis even know what a Snallygaster was? Not really.

But it was this core that chose her, and if she had known the traits this core typically bonded with, she wouldn't have been surprised. She had that physical aspect, speed and grace shining through when she spun through the air on a broom. She had the warmness, optimism and openness being how she carried herself and aggression something very rarely expressed. And she had the self-awareness, in touch with how she felt about things and remarkably cool-headed for someone who appeared so expressive. The wand knew what it was looking for in a good match, even if Phyllis didn't.

[b]Length: 33 cm[/b]
Phyllis barely even noticed the lengths of the wands she tried out, but a short wand was just never going to fit. She was loud, expressive, humorous. [i]Dramatic[/i] was not something she typically was, unless it was sarcasm, but otherwise she fit the bill of a longer wand perfectly. Phyllis had a bigger presence, and so would her wand. Plus, it just felt right in her hand.

[b]Flexibility: Quite Flexible[/b]
Beyond preferring her wand to bounce a little when she swished it, a more flexible wand was only fitting. Where many might get nervous to try something new, for Phyllis there was only excitement as she chased the adrenaline of novelty. Constantly she was pushing her limits on a broom, and she was fine dropping plans to do something else with friends last-minute. Going with the flow seemed to her to be the best way to live.

Phyllis was not, however, a pushover. She had defined lines on certain things; she wouldn't be cruel, or exclusive, or follow through with ideas that were nothing but bad. That kept her laid-back approach to life in check. Most things didn't hold too much weight to her, but she would hold firm on those that did.[/reducio]
[b]Extracurricular:[/b]
Is your character a Broom Racer? No
Is your character a Quidditch Player? Yes - Keeper
Is your character a Duellist? No[/quote]

Approved

Thank you for linking where your additional stat came from, helps me a lot. wonderfully organized also, easy to read. Thank you.

NPC Name: Elliot Arthur Bexley

Link: Click Me!

Year: Fourth Year

Stats: Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 12 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 8 | Arcane Power: 5 | Accuracy: 12

Abilities:

Evasive Maneuvers | Word Count: 647

Reducio

Though Elliot Bexley’s raw ability in magical pursuits is far from the level of refined required to be considered expertise, he is an excellent evader of everything from homework to his home life to most of the jinxes mostly-rightfully sent his way. It would be expected that wearing tinted sunglasses everywhere and anywhere would degrade the quality of his eyesight, but such is evidently not the case with Elliot. He was nothing if not insolent in the face of challenges, and he would’ve worn five hundred pairs of every hue in the rainbow just to prove that he could dodge hexing and hoodoo as fabulously as he excused himself from family dinners. As with everything on his resume, he’s been caught exaggerating his exact prowess in the matter, but the fact that he totally aced the doctor’s tendon test last summer remains. You know, as does the Hello Kitty bandage the doctor’s nose would have to don for a while.

As far as he could tell, there hadn’t been any training montage or Forrest Gump speech serving as his origin story. Simply, he was created a naturally nimble and active specimen of youth, crawling away from cribs to explore as a curious child would do, and eventually his limbs and quarter of a brain caught up with the speed at which he’d have to run away from his latest little accident. After joining the dueling team and witnessing one too many burns or bruises disgusting even to his desensitized-by-Elm-Street eyes before getting healed, his subconscious made it a mission to maybe not get magically kicked on his butt. He certainly wasn’t turning down his flamboyant flair for an inordinate amount of annoying his opponents, but he wasn’t backing down from the sport for the mere reason of danger when the thrills and glory were what he wanted. He had his idols, as any boy would, and among the motley crew were action figures, masters of martial arts, and the odd wizard here and there whose achievements in the ignorance of warlock welfare had caught his…well, attention could never quite be the right thing to describe what Elliot could give, but he gave it anyway. Why not let their influence be used for something, well, useful, right? He wasn’t becoming a chucker of nuns or whatever in between Ilvermorny’s curriculum and his distinct lack of weaponry that wasn’t his wand and the strange substance that had found a home in the holes of his socks, and so it was figured out that, hey, maybe he should focus on ducking right under those bright beams of death instead of trusting his literal redhead stereotype of a body to toughen up and take it.

Further helping the development was his desire to prove himself as someone impressive, someone who mattered. He had a knack for spellcasting and cramming in last-second studying, sure, but that alone wasn’t going to set him apart from the student body in the ways he wanted. He wanted to not get his butt kicked, he wanted. Obviously, physical strength and brute force wasn’t going to work for that, so he had to do what he always did but didn’t want to do: make an effort to improve. Small challenges of sidestepping paper airplanes, veering out the way of an overenthusiastic first year, or simply running along the castle built up his confidence and capacity for cheating a sly Steleus of its prey.

Elliot had, for the most part, enjoyed his time practicing the art of adroit avoidance, only becoming more aware of what could happen if he failed as years passed. He didn’t want to be careful, he never did, but he didn’t really have a choice when trouble came his way. After all, running scared or dying on the spot wasn’t as cool an ending as living to tell the tale with a few scars.

Charmer | Word Count: 595

Reducio

Depending on who you asked within Elliot Bexley’s social circle that very closely resembled a globe, there were a few possible reasons as to why the peppy Pukwudgie was so vexingly charming. A paradox omelet cooked of a very smiley egg filled with hammy ham and cheesy cheese as much as it was populated by surprisingly salty family grievances and complicatedly emotional tomatoes, Elliot didn’t have layers so much as he had. He also never really learned how to eat or cook an omelet properly, so that probably related to the analogy in one way or another.

All things considered, Elliot’s charm lied in his zinging zeal for life and how it spread like radioactive orange juice through his veins. He may not have been wholly genuine, but he tried his best to be whatever the given victim of his conversation required, and it seemed that most responded to earnest enthusiasm with a sprinkling of sweet talk better than the bitter truth. He understood the partiality, and in a world where everything was unpredictable and wild and as much of a blessing as it could be a curse, he found it fun to play the role of emotional support as long as he got to be the main character in his own movie. Of course, he couldn’t be typecasted for everything. To some, his smile was an irresistible invitation, and to others it was a toothy, lopsided show of arrogance. To some, his ignorance of hair combs was a statement on societal expectations, and to others it was laziness rearing its disheveled head. And to some, the glasses were–okay, he couldn’t lie, to everyone the glasses were just weird, but they still got attention wherever he went. That’s what charm was all about, to him. Being in the spotlight, even for the smallest of moments, and staying in the audience’s minds long after his departure.

Elliot remembers in terrible clarity how his parents’ parties used to go. They weren’t parties of actual celebration, they weren’t things of straight-to-DVD television filtered under pink and purple lights and filled with cheesy late 90s hits. And, yeah, it’s kind of possible that his standards were messed up early on when they had that chick flick marathon running as he baby-babbled and sucked on a tragically plain looking pacifier, but it’s also kind of possible that his parents were boring and hated him. It was never charm or mutual fondness that bonded their family to an executive there or a board member here, it was business and ulterior motives he wasn’t sure he wanted to figure out. He remembers black suits and polite nods stifling him, stiffening him where he stood as it came crashing on him all at once that he did not belong. He didn’t want anyone else to feel that way, and it was a given he never wanted to feel that way again, and the answer to that was being fond of everyone, to a degree, and letting them feel that way.

A silver tongue made not silver spoons to feed it should it not be able to speak, and so did Elliot know that every one of his traits would have to be flipped or folded or otherwise be used in his favor. He could never be consciously, maliciously manipulative, and the wizarding world itself would sooner collapse when put in comparison to his moral pillars. Still, he makes his purposes for being such a social butterfly clear as day: being remembered for brightening up someone’s day and possibly setting their breakfast on fire.

Advanced Casting | Word Count: 583

Reducio

Let’s get one thing straight real quick: Elliot Bexley is not a nerd. He hasn’t reached the stage in loser evolution where he furiously clicks and clacks at a chip-dusted keyboard about the difference between the two terms, but he and his extensive DVD collection and his five non-school-related books and a singular copy of one of those how-to-draw-horses comic things that he forgot to return to the flower-filled kindergarten library would like the record to show that he is a geek. He isn’t going around correcting people’s grammar on their essays or fixing up their wand wrist posture or dumping down paragraphs and footnotes from his number of begrudgingly-owned-school-related-books, okay? He isn’t half an expert on any of those things, and he isn’t going to pretend to be one.

What Elliot Bexley is, however, is a guy who knows how to play to his strengths. Few and far between as he ultimately believes such strengths to be, he’s noticed that he’s depended a whole lot on magic to get where he is, i.e. alive and passing school. It was a given, considering that he was in a magical school, but the thought of relying on dumb luck and praying that for his entire academic career made him feel weird, almost sick. He’d already won the lottery by wrestling past generations of completely normal people to be what he was, so he had to be running low on the whole luck thing, right?

So, yes, he had his difficulties at first. NatGeo Kids didn’t have all the answers when it came to adapting to new environments, but it did have bad animal puns and a personality quiz about the types of intelligence that he trusted with his life. A visual learner to his core, he knew it wouldn’t be practical to, like, actually practice if it wasn’t explicitly required within class. In times of boredom (which translated to any moment wherein he wasn’t preoccupied with a prank or a procrastinated assignment or shining up his precious sunglasses), he assumes the pastime of practicing wand movements and muttering pronunciations until the words run dry on his mouth. He wasn’t going to settle for less than impressive, so the only logical conclusion was reaching for greatness with all the length of his rather Lilliputian arm. If that meant he’d have to stay up for hours on end getting down that one charm or amass an armada of practice dummies to haunt him with the sins of his past, he would do it. If that also meant he’d have to work on his grammar and read footnotes and stop nearly snapping his bones in dramatic, sweeping gestures, he would do it.

So, yes, Elliot Bexley might be a nerd, and a geek, and a loser whose greatest achievement and legacy will 100% end up being inventing a charm that allows the automatic typing of an inappropriately aggressive online comment, but he’s also a hard worker, whether or not he’d admit it. He’s endlessly and hopelessly fascinated by magic in all its forms, and he can’t let the wonder wane and wax because he needs it to be who he is: a sparkling sun of sorcerer skill who deserved the cards he was dealt, ace or Joker or anything in between. Mixed with the desperation, of course, is childish glee at the euphoric experience of doing something right, and he’s willing to mess up as much as he needs to in order to do more things right.

Extracurricular: Duellist

Trunk Coding:

Code: Select all

[quote][center][quote][img]/images/upload/f5kirm.webp[/img][/quote][/center][b][quote]Is Your Character a Broom Racer?[/b] No
[b]Is Your Character a Quidditch Player?[/b] No
[b]Is Your Character a Duelist? Yes[/b][/quote]
[quote][b]Stats:[/b]
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 12 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 8 | Arcane Power: 5 | Accuracy: 12[/quote]
[quote][b]Abilities:[/b]
[u][i]Fearless[/i][/u][reducio]Elliot's environment growing up could be likened to one with traps set on the floor, traps near invisible to the eye that if stepped on would trigger a reaction of sharp spikes sticking out, with seemingly no chance of escape. All one could do was keep on avoiding, keep on trying, but fail in the end. Elliot had figured this out soon enough, that he would always be lesser than in their cold eyes, and so he began to become braver. To rebel in any possible way, whether it be through actions involving more than a bit of fire, or words dripping with sarcasm.

His family also tried to use taunts and such to chip away at his confidence, to no avail. He was immune, putting up shields with witty comebacks stolen from action films and endless thoughts of what would, and could, happen once he turned of age and could finally run out of this place with no worries as to where he could go back.

Both parties, parents and child, had learned there was no disappointing or deterring the other from their respective missions, to make Elliot their new golden boy, and in the boy's case, to piss his family off to the point they didn't care anymore. However, both still persisted, even if in his father's mind, Elliot is far too gone now.

While he did have a solid roof over his head, Elliot spent most of his time in the streets of New York as a muggle magician, daring to use quick hands to make more than a few adults lose their money to a game of spotting the peanut under the cups. His pride, for both better and worse, was something impossible to strike down after his first solo act of tricks and cards, with him taking every criticism as a compliment and twisting words with his mouth, unable and unafraid of what would happen when others wished it to be shut.

He'd taken the words the world is your stage to heart after hearing it, doing wild things just for the sake of being able to say he's done it. Jump from one staircase to another for no identifiable reason? Been there, scratched his arm while doing that. Wander alone in the dawn, with nothing but a bicycle and a note? Been there, also scratched his arm while doing that, but it was fine. Anything that was fun was something he needed to do, even if it only brought more problems after it was done.

Once learning that indeed, such creatures as those wolves of the night and vampires from novels were real, he felt no fear. He felt more, a growing flame, one to achieve his wildest dreams and do such at cost of a finger or two. Beasts of the darkest corners of the world do not scare him, as he sees them more as opportunities than as something to run away from. An opportunity to prove himself to others, to be seen as the hero. Besides, with the quality of parenting he'd received (i.e. none), the only thing he would possibly be scared of was magic being fake. And with the scars of adventures past and dueling matches gone wrong tainting his skin, he was fairly certain he would never wake up from his dreams of becoming the hero everyone needs.[/reducio][u][i]Evasive Maneuvers[/i][/u][reducio]Though Elliot Bexley’s raw ability in magical pursuits is far from the level of refined required to be considered expertise, he is an excellent evader of everything from homework to his home life to most of the jinxes mostly-rightfully sent his way. It would be expected that wearing tinted sunglasses everywhere and anywhere would degrade the quality of his eyesight, but such is evidently not the case with Elliot. He was nothing if not insolent in the face of challenges, and he would’ve worn five hundred pairs of every hue in the rainbow just to prove that he could dodge hexing and hoodoo as fabulously as he excused himself from family dinners. As with everything on his resume, he’s been caught exaggerating his exact prowess in the matter, but the fact that he totally aced the doctor’s tendon test last summer remains. You know, as does the Hello Kitty bandage the doctor’s nose would have to don for a while.

As far as he could tell, there hadn’t been any training montage or Forrest Gump speech serving as his origin story. Simply, he was created a naturally nimble and active specimen of youth, crawling away from cribs to explore as a curious child would do, and eventually his limbs and quarter of a brain caught up with the speed at which he’d have to run away from his latest little accident. After joining the dueling team and witnessing one too many burns or bruises disgusting even to his desensitized-by-Elm-Street eyes before getting healed, his subconscious made it a mission to maybe not get magically kicked on his butt. He certainly wasn’t turning down his flamboyant flair for an inordinate amount of annoying his opponents, but he wasn’t backing down from the sport for the mere reason of danger when the thrills and glory were what he wanted. He had his idols, as any boy would, and among the motley crew were action figures, masters of martial arts, and the odd wizard here and there whose achievements in the ignorance of warlock welfare had caught his…well, attention could never quite be the right thing to describe what Elliot could give, but he gave it anyway. Why not let their influence be used for something, well, useful, right? He wasn’t becoming a chucker of nuns or whatever in between Ilvermorny’s curriculum and his distinct lack of weaponry that wasn’t his wand and the strange substance that had found a home in the holes of his socks, and so it was figured out that, hey, maybe he should focus on ducking right under those bright beams of death instead of trusting his literal redhead stereotype of a body to toughen up and take it.

Further helping the development was his desire to prove himself as someone impressive, someone who mattered. He had a knack for spellcasting and cramming in last-second studying, sure, but that alone wasn’t going to set him apart from the student body in the ways he wanted. He wanted to not get his butt kicked, he wanted. Obviously, physical strength and brute force wasn’t going to work for that, so he had to do what he always did but didn’t want to do: make an effort to improve. Small challenges of sidestepping paper airplanes, veering out the way of an overenthusiastic first year, or simply running along the castle built up his confidence and capacity for cheating a sly [i]Steleus[/i] of its prey.

Elliot had, for the most part, enjoyed his time practicing the art of adroit avoidance, only becoming more aware of what could happen if he failed as years passed. He didn’t want to be careful, he never did, but he didn’t really have a choice when trouble came his way. After all, running scared or dying on the spot wasn’t as cool an ending as living to tell the tale with a few scars.[/reducio][i][u]Charmer[/u][/i][reducio]Depending on who you asked within Elliot Bexley’s social circle that very closely resembled a globe, there were a few possible reasons as to why the peppy Pukwudgie was so vexingly charming. A paradox omelet cooked of a very smiley egg filled with hammy ham and cheesy cheese as much as it was populated by surprisingly salty family grievances and complicatedly emotional tomatoes, Elliot didn’t have layers so much as he had. He also never really learned how to eat or cook an omelet properly, so that probably related to the analogy in one way or another.

All things considered, Elliot’s charm lied in his zinging zeal for life and how it spread like radioactive orange juice through his veins. He may not have been wholly genuine, but he tried his best to be whatever the given victim of his conversation required, and it seemed that most responded to earnest enthusiasm with a sprinkling of sweet talk better than the bitter truth. He understood the partiality, and in a world where everything was unpredictable and wild and as much of a blessing as it could be a curse, he found it fun to play the role of emotional support as long as he got to be the main character in his own movie. Of course, he couldn’t be typecasted for everything. To some, his smile was an irresistible invitation, and to others it was a toothy, lopsided show of arrogance. To some, his ignorance of hair combs was a statement on societal expectations, and to others it was laziness rearing its disheveled head. And to some, the glasses were–okay, he couldn’t lie, to everyone the glasses were just weird, but they still got attention wherever he went. That’s what charm was all about, to him. Being in the spotlight, even for the smallest of moments, and staying in the audience’s minds long after his departure.

Elliot remembers in terrible clarity how his parents’ parties used to go. They weren’t parties of actual celebration, they weren’t things of straight-to-DVD television filtered under pink and purple lights and filled with cheesy late 90s hits. And, yeah, it’s kind of possible that his standards were messed up early on when they had that chick flick marathon running as he baby-babbled and sucked on a tragically plain looking pacifier, but it’s also kind of possible that his parents were boring and hated him. It was never charm or mutual fondness that bonded their family to an executive there or a board member here, it was business and ulterior motives he wasn’t sure he wanted to figure out. He remembers black suits and polite nods stifling him, stiffening him where he stood as it came crashing on him all at once that he did not belong. He didn’t want anyone else to feel that way, and it was a given he never wanted to feel that way again, and the answer to that was being fond of everyone, to a degree, and letting them feel that way.

A silver tongue made not silver spoons to feed it should it not be able to speak, and so did Elliot know that every one of his traits would have to be flipped or folded or otherwise be used in his favor. He could never be consciously, maliciously manipulative, and the wizarding world itself would sooner collapse when put in comparison to his moral pillars. Still, he makes his purposes for being such a social butterfly clear as day: being remembered for brightening up someone’s day and possibly setting their breakfast on fire.[/reducio][i][u]Advanced Casting[/u][/i][reducio]Let’s get one thing straight real quick: Elliot Bexley is not a nerd. He hasn’t reached the stage in loser evolution where he furiously clicks and clacks at a chip-dusted keyboard about the difference between the two terms, but he and his extensive DVD collection and his five non-school-related books [i]and[/i] a singular copy of one of those how-to-draw-horses comic things that he forgot to return to the flower-filled kindergarten library would like the record to show that he is a geek. He isn’t going around correcting people’s grammar on their essays or fixing up their wand wrist posture or dumping down paragraphs and footnotes from his number of begrudgingly-owned-school-related-books, okay? He isn’t half an expert on any of those things, and he isn’t going to pretend to be one.

What Elliot Bexley is, however, is a guy who knows how to play to his strengths. Few and far between as he ultimately believes such strengths to be, he’s noticed that he’s depended a whole lot on magic to get where he is, i.e. alive and passing school. It was a given, considering that he was in a magical school, but the thought of relying on dumb luck and praying that for his entire academic career made him feel weird, almost sick. He’d already won the lottery by wrestling past generations of completely normal people to be what he was, so he had to be running low on the whole luck thing, right?

So, yes, he had his difficulties at first. NatGeo Kids didn’t have all the answers when it came to adapting to new environments, but it did have bad animal puns and a personality quiz about the types of intelligence that he trusted with his life. A visual learner to his core, he knew it wouldn’t be practical to, like, actually practice if it wasn’t explicitly required within class. In times of boredom (which translated to any moment wherein he wasn’t preoccupied with a prank or a procrastinated assignment or shining up his precious sunglasses), he assumes the pastime of practicing wand movements and muttering pronunciations until the words run dry on his mouth. He wasn’t going to settle for less than impressive, so the only logical conclusion was reaching for greatness with all the length of his rather Lilliputian arm. If that meant he’d have to stay up for hours on end getting down that one charm or amass an armada of practice dummies to haunt him with the sins of his past, he would do it. If that also meant he’d have to work on his grammar and read footnotes and stop nearly snapping his bones in dramatic, sweeping gestures, he would do it.

So, yes, Elliot Bexley might be a nerd, and a geek, and a loser whose greatest achievement and legacy will 100% end up being inventing a charm that allows the automatic typing of an inappropriately aggressive online comment, but he’s also a hard worker, whether or not he’d admit it. He’s endlessly and hopelessly fascinated by magic in all its forms, and he can’t let the wonder wane and wax because he needs it to be who he is: a sparkling sun of sorcerer skill who deserved the cards he was dealt, ace or Joker or anything in between. Mixed with the desperation, of course, is childish glee at the euphoric experience of doing something right, and he’s willing to mess up as much as he needs to in order to do more things right.
[/reducio][/quote][/quote]

Approved