APPROVED

APPROVED

iNPC Name: Sébastien Batteux
Link: X [poster needs to be changed to Stanley]
Year: Second
Extracurricular: Broom Racer
Content Changes: heavy changes after the events of his disappearance. all major changes in bold.
Disappearance from Second Year-

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Short explanation:
- 26th December 2020: Berry first experiences symptoms of not being able to speak and later in the day becomes heavily fatigued.
- 28th December 2020: He starts to gain purple pustules on the face.
- 29th December 2020: Sébastien is diagnosed with Spattergroit by a healer.
- 1st January 2021: Told he will not be allowed back to school until he has fully recovered.
- 26th June 2021: Told by his grandparents that because he missed 6 months of school he has to be held back a year.
- 5th July 2021: Fully recovered however has gained a few scars on his face from the pustules and blisters.

More in depth:
Waking up was one of Sébastien's favourite things to do in his daily routine. He loved opening his window and feeling the morning breeze dance across his pale skin. That was until the day after Christmas came. Boxing Day. His throat was sore and his eyes were extremely heavy. He could hardly move his arms without needing to take twenty deep breaths. It was unusual. Sébastien hardly ever got ill let alone a blocked up nose.

There was nothing to worry about though of course. He would get over it in a few days. Berry could not miss school. He wouldn't admit it out loud but he didn't want to miss school. Everything would be okay. His grandparents would take perfect care of him and he would be perfectly healthy by the time Christmas Break would be over.

Two days later and he still wasn't getting any better. In fact, he was getting even worse! Purple pustules had started to sprout up all over his face predominantly on his cheeks. Sébastien still couldn't speak and he was constantly in and out of sleep. Lilian and John (his grandparents) had started to check in on their grandson more than Berry would have liked. Every half an hour, one of them would pop their head around the door and either see him sleeping or awake giving them a confused look. They had become terribly worried and agreed on the next day they would call for a professional to be brought to the house and diagnose Berry.

Promptly at sun rise, John André set off in search of a Healer. It hadn't been very long until the male stumbled back inside the house with someone trailing in behind him. Lilian had directed the Healer up towards Sébastien's bedroom and allowed them to conduct their analyse alone.

Berry had become even more confused when an unknown face appeared around the door and explained to him that they would be checking to see if he was going to be alright. At first glance, the Healer had made their first assumption and muttered something to them self, making the boy hope it wasn't something so terribly serious. He glanced around the room and tried to avoid all eye contact with the Healer at all costs. Sébastien could not bear to think of what they were going to say to him.

Around quarter of an hour later, the Healer stood up and thanked Berry for his time before walking outside and closing the door. Small rustles were coming from outside the door which probably was a piece of paper the Healer was writing on to communicate with the adults of the house. He had jumped slightly when the door opened once again and the Healer along with his grandparents came into the room. Lilian and John had the most dreadful looks on their faces which only fuelled the boy's worry even more than there already was.

The Healer then stepped forward and sat down on the chair next to his bed. They calmly spoke aloud assuring Sébastien would be fine however what he had would probably leave him bed ridden and ill for months. Months! He would be sure to miss school. They continued by stating the obvious and confirming for everyone that the boy would not be well enough to go back to school until he was fully healed.

Months passed and he was still not well. Sébastien could not believe that he of all people had to go through this. Why not some other person who actually didn't want to go to school. Why not someone who could care less whether they got out of bed or not. He was sure that by the time he recovered that he would have gone quite insane. There was nothing to do at all. He couldn't even practice incantations of spells or continuously repeat his favourite words in Veela.

It had gotten closer to the end of the school year than Sébastien had liked. He had hoped it would blow over in a few weeks and he could return to old normal life. However, the boy did not get to play out his ideal plan and his hope had faltered as it came towards the middle of the month June. Even if a miracle happened and he was completely healthy again there would be no point in going back to school for two weeks only to return home for the summer.

Just as things started getting better for Berry, he got the worst news he would probably ever hear. He had finally been able to start speaking small and simple words when his grandparents had told him that he would have to repeat Second Year to make sure he does not fall behind the class. To say Sébastien was devastated was an understatement. He had always known the power of knowledge was important but to be held back a year really made him angry. How dare they make him re-take a year. How dare they make him feel like he wasn't good enough to catch up in his own time.

There was no chance in changing anyone's mind though. There was no point in trying. Sébastien would just have to bear and grin through the humiliation. His emotions got the best of him once he had finally been able to get out of bed and speak properly again. Just days after the school year ended. Why did it have to happen to him! Why him. Why not someone else.

Sébastien vowed to himself that he would not bring up the six months of his life unless someone else asked about it. He tried to act like it never happened but he was always reminded of the experience when he looked in the mirror and saw scars littering his cheeks caused by the constant scratching of blisters. There was nothing he could do to change it and he would just have to live as if they were always there.

Waking up had become something that Berry dreaded.

Appearance- [96 words]

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While standing at the height of 5"5, Sébastien's jet black hair hangs just above his almond-shaped grey eyes. He has naturally calm facial features which carries a smile from his pink lips. He has freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose which only form in the summer time. Also along his cheeks are blister scars which are easily visible all year round. He loves to dress to impress and normally wears shirts tucked into his jeans with either a pair of converse or vans or his school uniform which he finds quite appealing and rather dashing.

Personality- [232 words]

Reducio

His grand-parent had always taught Sébastien to be considerate, kind and calm but however many times he was told that it always went in one ear and out the other. Apparently, he reminded Lilian and John of his father. Always the rebellious, trying to be charming type. He never let anyone get in the way of what he wanted. His goals had to be met or it would seem like a failure that could be added to his list of other faults.

He could be described as the bad boy but Berry has a lot more determination than the normal stereotypical all brawl and no brain. He loves to study languages and knows that knowledge is power so the knowledge of languages should be more power than he could even imagine.

There is a small soft side to the self-centered boy. He is sensitive and shy about certain subjects. Most of them revolving around family. Sébastien had gained trust issues from the few interactions he had had with the other children of the neighborhood. It takes a whole lot to be able to crack his hard exterior. Once that has been broken through, the boy is welcoming with warm arms and insults. The thirteen year old is trying to change his way at approaching life and other people because he knows that sometimes being rude is not as helpful as he thought.

History- [completely re-written] [688 words]

Reducio

-removed mentions of grandparents lying to Sébastien. Instead made his parents leaving him more vague allowing him to gain a better relationship with his grandparents.
-removed paragraph about him suddenly 'loving' to insult people. Made a more believable reason on why he picks on people.

Ever since he was an infant, Berry (coming from his middle name, Thierry) had lived with his deaf grandparents from his Mother's side. Lilian Sr. and John André couldn't remember a time when they didn't have to care for little Sébastien. His parents had decided to leave him with them while they both travelled the world together as a young care-free couple. It was never fully explained to Sébastien why his parents wanted to go away for a prolonged period of time and not taken him alone with them. There had never been a reason Berry could make up that would mean he would have be kept back in France. It was both a mystery to himself and his grandparents.

It was unusual to hear of Wizards and Witches who were deaf as old age deafness could be treated simply by any Healer. However, Lilian and John's deafness was not something that could be cured. They had both been out on a simple date and enjoying each other's company when the unfortunate pair both got caught in an accidental magical explosion. They had never been told exactly what has caused it but came to the conclusion it had probably been a backfired spell or something like that. As cheesy as it may have sounded to Sébastien, they had grown closer than ever before after losing their hearing. Even though their bond could not be broken, it had caused quite a few issues when communicating with Berry when he first started learning to talk.

Around the age of 5, he had decided if he ever wanted to have a proper conversation with his grandparents he would have to work extra hard. This included studying and endlessly practicing standard French sign-language courses. However, just like every other child, he procrastinated, got extremely bored and very distracted by more exciting things. It wasn't until he had tried to ask for a Muggle comic book, at the age of six, which made him finally understood exactly why he had wanted to start learning a new language all together. After all his neighbor had taught him how to speak simple sentences in English how hard could Sign language be? Sébastien's days consisted of a set routine of breaks and studying time but it wasn't long until he started to actually enjoy the knowledge of things. Breaks then became over time and the time had arrived where he could ask questions and start a conversation with his grandparents came a lot quicker than they had all expected.

With all of his time studying to help his and his grandparents' life be easier, he had never learnt anything about magic and potions prior to going to Beauxabatons. There in fact was no sign of Berry even having magic until the age of eight years old when he sneezed (due to his terrible hay fever) during dinner and blew all the cutlery and plates off of the table, smashing them all into tiny pieces. At first, he was quite embarrassed of how he had destroyed the beautiful china teapot but got over it soon enough when he realized he had finally shown the magic his grandparents had been anxiously waiting for.

Sébastien also never had time to go outside and socialize with the other children on the neighborhood. They were quick to judge him for his love of knowledge and so desperately also wanting friends. He had tried to be nice and charming. He had tried to approach them with open arms but all they had done was push his away. His trust issues built up quickly and instead of coping with it and backing down, his pride wanted to retaliate. So that is exactly what Berry did. He got back at them by picking on the things that they were insecure about themselves. The boy had found it quite easy to come up with small quick witty lines and quite enjoyed it. He had only ever interacted with a few people who had thought he was weird and therefore Sébastien had made a judgment about everyone purely based off of a small minority of society.

New Trunk Coding:

Reducio

Code: Select all

[quote][center]──────────‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎  [size=125][b]TRUNK[/b][/size]‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎  ──────────
[i]character information[/i][/center][/quote]

[quote][i][size=110][b]STATISTICS.[/b][/size][/i]
[quote][center][i]sta.[/i] [size=110][b]7[/b][/size]‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎  [i]eva.[/i] [size=110][b]10[/b][/size]‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎  [i]str.[/i] [size=110][b]8[/b][/size]‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎  [i]wis.[/i] [size=110][b]5[/b][/size]‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎  [i]arc.[/i] [size=110][b]0[/b][/size]‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎  [i]acc.[/i] [size=110][b]10[/b][/size][/quote][/quote]

[quote][i][size=110][b]ABILITIES.[/b][/size][/i]
[quote][b][i]EVASIVE MANEUVERS.[/i][/b][reducio][b][color=#4080BF]"Ow!"[/color][/b] Sébastien rubbed his head while eyeing up the tennis ball that was rolling away from his body. It stopped after a while and lodged itself into the snow as the boy turned around to see his grandfather laughing at him. It was a wonder why they had decided to play tennis on a early February snow day. Normally, they would be sat inside with a book or two drinking hot chocolate and warming their bodies against the fire they had but they just had to go outside on the coldest day yet. 

The young child crossed his arms while huffing and shaking his head. Then he pulled his gloves off and signed [b][color=#4080BF]"Why did you do that?"[/color][/b] His grandfather shook his shoulders and grinned before picking up another tennis ball and reaching his arm backwards to throw it towards his grandson. Sébastien closed his eyes waiting for the impact but it never came. He stood there for a while just shivering while trying to figure out if he just didn't feel it or his grand-father had a terrible shot.

Slowly, he opened one eye and looked down to see he had moved. Berry did not recall moving and was very confused. He looked up and signed again, [b][color=#4080BF]"Did I move?"[/color][/b] while his grand-father nodded his head wildly and walked over towards the pile of tennis balls they had made. There was around twenty there and another ten scattered around the tennis. Sébastien's grandmother had also been out with them for a while but had gone back inside due to her back problems leaving the boys to play by themselves.

As soon as he saw another ball heading for his head, Sébastien jumped out of the way and ran to the other side of the court. [b][color=#4080BF]"Are you trying to take my head off or something?"[/color][/b] He signed and shook his head before letting out a chuckle. His grandfather did always have a reason behind his methods so  Sébastien did not push on any further and continued to look out for any yellow/green balls of fluff flying his way. 

His grandfather quickly took off his gloves and replied moving his hands at a rapid pace, [b][color=#808040]"I'm preparing you."[/color][/b] He then proceeded to pick up two balls and chucked one in the air before catching it again. [b][color=#4080BF]"What for?"[/color][/b] Sébastien inquired before ducking as one zoomed past him. His grandfather laughed again and picked up his racket. 

[b][color=#4080BF]"What's he doing now? Is he really trying to kill me?"[/color][/b] Sébastien whispered under his breath while shaking his head. It was getting colder by the minute and he was determined to not get hit by his grand-father. If someone was walking past and say him get a tennis ball to the face they for sure would laugh and go tell everyone on the street. What a humiliation that would be! 

John (his grandfather) smiled and threw a ball into the air while swinging the racket with all his might and hit the ball in the direction of Berry. Even with the air resistance slowing the ball down ever so slightly, if it hit Sébastien he knew a bruise would form. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath taking in his surroundings and ran out of the way before the ball clipped his ear. 

[b][color=#808040]"Good lad."[/color][/b] His grandfather signed as he nodded his head and then grabbed the rest of the tennis balls from the floor while beckoning his grandson over. [b][color=#808040]"That's not the last time we will be doing that, Son."[/color][/b] John let out a small laugh and continued, [b][color=#808040]"I want to see you grow up to be someone who can evade attacks. Not be the attacker."[/color][/b]

[b][color=#4080BF]"But why would I need to do that Grandpa?"[/color][/b] Sébastien questioned looking towards the floor. He knew the exact answer to that and did not need to hear the answer as his mind suddenly flew to the instance a few weeks beforehand where a few boys had thought it would be funny to throw rotten food at him. It had really been Sébastien's fault though. He was the one that had insulted a little girl and was the one who went around bragging about stuff. It was just good to be prepared. [b][color=#4080BF]"Never mind, I think we should do it the same time next week."[/color][/b][/reducio]
[b][i]COMPREHEND LANGUAGES - VEELA.[/i][/b]
[reducio]Sébastien had always had a thing about learning. He thought that if knowledge was power than the knowledge of languages could grant him more power than he could ever even imagine. He had already learnt English because it was mandatory to know it however learning Standard Sign-Language for France was something he had done as an extra-curricular activity and he had excelled in it immensely.

That wouldn’t stop him to try and learn another language. Maybe even something that was part of his world. The Wizarding World. It would be a lot of fun to confuse people with his sign-language but imagine all the fun he could have when speaking in a language that hardly anyone knew. It would have to be one that someone would not know from the sound of it.

It couldn’t be Parsletounge as he would only be able to understand what they were saying and not be able to converse back. He had heard Mermish was not pleasant to learn but was defiantly useful underwater. He had even considered Troll, Giant or Gobbledegook. However, none of them fit what he wanted. Sébastien wanted something that sounded pleasing to the ear. Something that could be easy to learn and speak that did not make him bored half way through studying the language.

The only other one he could think of was Veela but that was even risky. To his knowledge, there were more Part-Veela’s emerging out of the ground every day. It was like the Full-Veela’s were trying to get rid of their species. Although, that did sound quite silly as Berry had the thought cross his mind. It would be useless to become extinct. What was the whole reason to do that?

Even though there was the high risk of being snitched on, Sébastien had decided if he wanted to learn a magical language it would have to be Veela. He had set off on a mission that he would no longer come back from until it was complete and finished. Once Berry had his mind set on something there was no power on earth that could stop him other than himself.

The journey was going to be a long one and it wasn’t going to be all on a flat surface either. There was defiantly going to be bumps and lumps along the way. It was just like anything else in life. Anything you want you have to work for. Sébastien knew it would take years to finally become a master at a language he knew nothing about but that wasn’t going to stop him. If he made it to the end that would result in more knowledge and maybe even a chance to pretend he was something he was not.

Leading up to his second year, Berry had studied hard learning the crooks and crannies of Veela. He should have focused more on his studies but had not cared about them in the slightest. The only thing he wanted was to be able to speak in more tongues than some people could imagine. It had nearly taken him 6 years to understand the basics of it all and the only thing he needed to do was constantly use it for the next few months until it was drilled into his brain like a screw.[/reducio][/quote][/quote]

[quote][i][size=110][b]ITEMS.[/b][/size][/i][quote][b][i]comet 180.[/i][/b] [i]+2 accuracy, +1 evasion, +1 stamina[/i][/quote][/quote]

[quote][i][size=110][b]EXTRACURRICULAR.[/b][/size][/i][quote][b][i]broom racer.[/i][/b] [/quote][/quote]

APPROVED - Changed poster from Lizzie to Stanley

 [quote][b]Is your character a Broom Racer?[/b] No
[b]Is your character a Quidditch Player?[/b] Yes
[b]Is your character a Duelist?[/b] No[/quote]
[quote][b]Stats:[/b] Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 9 | Strength: 6 | Wisdom: 4 | Arcane Power: 0 | Accuracy: 8[/quote]
[quote][b]Abilities:[/b] Evasive Maneuvers (WC: 481 words)
[reducio]"C'mon! Let's play!" Messy red hair bounced up and down with the girl, trying to get the two others to join. Isabelle nodded, a smile spreading across her face as both the girls turned towards Helen. The young woman glanced between the two, before letting out a soft sigh with a smile. "Alright, but just one round. Go on, you two, hide." Kit chirped in excitement, quickly dashing off. It wasn't often that she could get the two to play hide and go seek. They preferred to stick with the original, apparently.

Light footsteps would be heard, trailing around different locations to not give Helen any clues. But eventually she would stop, hiding behind a couch. It certainly wasn't the best hiding spot, but it would have to do. Wherever Isabelle might've hidden was a question for later. Now to wait.

It wouldn't take long, before Kit would find herself glancing around, trying to find where Helen had gone. She had peeked up too much, red hair rather visible against the colorless background. The young girl realized this a moment later, keeping her position for a few moments longer while Helen came towards her. She'd wait for the last minute, before quickly bouncing back out of reach. Kit decided to test her fate a little more, allowing for one more chance. A few moments of waiting, before another quick dodge out of the way, laughing from the adrenaline. It was a fun little game for the young girl, but she'd dash away, trying to find the next hiding spot. Blue-green eyes would glance around the next corridor, running in before she realized that Isabelle was standing in the middle of the walkway.

"Did you get tagged?" The younger girl would ask, bouncing on her feet slightly. Her sister would say nothing, but began to close the gap between them. A hand would whip out to try and tap the redhead, but she had side-skipped, barely getting out of the way. "You did!" she gasped, a grin widening. She would pause for a moment, before running before Isabelle or Helen could tag her in her surprise. Having two on one posed an interesting challenge, as they directed her towards a dead end. Kit didn't notice until she was almost against the wall, keeping out of both of their reaches. But in a dead end, there was only so much ducking and weaving one could do until they got tagged. Fingers would barely graze her arm, and the girl would stop, quickly turning around to face the others.

"Well that wasn't fair," she pouted, a little out of breath. Helen shook her head, huffed laughter escaping her. "No, Kitkat dear, there was nothing fair about what you were doing. We needed our own tactics to win." Isabelle would nod, offering her sister an impressed smile. "I think we'll just stick to regular hide-and-seek."[/reducio]Catch (WC: 459 words)
[reducio] Quidditch was a fun sport. Dangerous and way more competitive than she had realized. There had been talk back at home, but the importance of quidditch never really set in until Kit was trying out to join the team. Sports had never been about winning, but rather being a group to spend time with and get to know. Still, it was important that she in some way aided the team. The height of play was scary enough, not to mention adding bludgers into the mix.

One of the practices, they practiced catching in a more controlled and safe environment so that teammates might be able to help each other better when the real game came around. It was strange to have a new weight on the broom. There was some struggle with maneuverability and keeping the other person on at the same time. But still, it sounded like the perfect way to help out. Maybe even prevent some of the more serious injuries that could occur when one fell down from such a distance.

Practices remained the same, but Kit spent more time figuring out what best to use as a substitute for an additional person on the broom. Backpacks stuffed with books worked well, trying to move around easily enough without the bag toppling over and free falling down to the ground. It was strange to have less space on the broom, but the girl adjusted, challenging herself to have more room on the back of the broom. But having two people on a broom was just one step. The other was catching.

This was more challenging to practice, generally required someone else to help out. One way was by tossing the previously used backpack down to be caught. The distances were small at first- a light toss between the two, but the distance and height increased as Kit grew more confident with this skill. This didn’t mean that the backpack stayed intact, however, books pressing their edges into the fabric until it ripped. No new scratches or tears had been seen in a while, though, significant improvement from the start of her outside practices. 

The second way was carrying someone. This almost always drew laughs the first few times as Kit struggled to figure out how best to get a person onto the back of her broom. For what sounded like the simple part, the second year found it rather complicated, making sure to put padding down before ever trying to pick up her friend. While the quidditch player had yet to use this new skill in a game, she was positive it would be useful at some point. Plus, it was another way for her to help out from a distance. Or on the same broom.[/reducio][/quote]

APPROVED. Added stats into your trunk as you didn't include them in the coding.

TRUNK

Stats:
Stamina: 5
Evasion: 8
Strength: 5
Wisdom: 9
Arcane Power: 5
Accuracy: 8

Abilities:

1. Foulplay

Reducio

Growing up with four older brothers who were all jealous of how their parents treated you was never going to be easy. As a young child, Florian stuck to the rules, no matter what they were doing, and his brothers would make fun of him or would easily take advantage of him. His parents, however, gushed over how such a lovely ‘petit garçon’ could also be quite the charming and sweet young boy, always the one to follow his parents every whim. As he reached age 9, he was beginning to get tired of always being the center of attention in his family, as well as the overbearing attitude of his parents. Something had to be done, he simply couldn’t stand being the goody-two-shoes ‘petit garçon’ anymore.

It was then he decided he would get back at his brothers and his parents. He would break the rules. That would show his brothers he had the ability to ‘stick it’ to his parents. Maybe he could finally be friends with them. When at home being tutored by his parents before attending Beauxbatons, he decided to put his new plan in action. The fastest way to be done with his homework was to cheat… then he could do whatever he wanted. When his parents weren’t watching, he would sneakily grab the page with the homework answers out of his parent's book to copy the answers on his homework sheet, and, more often than not, he was successful at it. While his parents would be upset with him when they did catch him, they tended to blame it on other things, such as his older siblings' influence on him. This just made Florian even more upset.

He decided that his next attempt at cheating would be something big. He knew he would be playing again with his brothers soon when they came back for the summer holiday, so he began to study all sorts of ways to become better at them at broom racing… and even the best ways to get around the rules. He was almost the best of them at flying, with all of the independent instruction his father had given him, and he was ready to put it all to the test. He casually suggested that they do a race out in the forests of their large estate one day and of course, his brothers were eager to prove they were better than him. Little did they know, the track that they typically raced on had been rigged for certain things to happen, as well as smaller areas were made to fit through than his older brothers could. This took Florian an entire day to set up, but it was well worth it. Of course, Florian ended up winning and he also managed to bump a few of his brothers around some while racing. One almost hit a tree! He was extremely proud of himself and his brothers were actually proud of him for tricking them so cleverly. Oh, they would still make fun of him for sure, but Florian earned a little bit of respect that day. From that day on, Florian knew it was not quite so much about skill, but about how you bent the rules in order to win. You can always get what you want if you break the rules….

WC: 555

2. N/A
3. N/A
4. N/A
5. N/A
6. N/A
7. N/A

Extracurricular:
Broom Racer

APPROVED

NPC Name: Emile Sylvain LeDoux

Link: Here

Year: Second

Stats:
Old: Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 4 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 7 | ArcPower: 5 | Accuracy: 5
New: Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 6 | Strength: 8 | Wisdom: 7 | ArcPower: 6 | Accuracy: 6

Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast

Reducio

Emile's obsession with creatures of all sizes has landed him in trouble many times. When he was younger he would often be late coming home because he wanted to explore the creatures that came out in the night time. He would trespass just to follow creatures he found fascinating for as long as possible. Of course these were just regular Muggle creatures, but he loved them nonetheless.

At home he spent his time reading and reading and reading about all of the creatures in the magical world. His love of all animals big and small lead him to the mystery of half-human hybrids.

At first Emile didn't believe that really existed, but after talking to his mother and father, he realized they most certainly were. There were many many types of human hybrids or humanoid creatures. Emile was interested in them all. He spent night after night reading though all the books in the LeDoux's library, exhausting all of them. Since his mother saw the enjoyment he got out of learning about these creatures, she went out and bought him more books.

He spent years reading and learning about anything and everything that these creatures did. When he actively started to look for one was when his mother grew worried. She knew that going up to people he suspected of being hybrids was rude and sometimes dangerous. This combined with his obsession over learning the Veela language, influenced her decision to introduce him to a real life Veela.

While Emile's and Ms. Paquet's lessons were mostly about the Veela language and learning it, he also started worming in questions about her race in general. She wasn't very keen on talking about it at first, but when she saw his large growth in the Veela language, she eased up. She talked to him about her experiences growing up as Veela and what it was like having a family FULL of Veela's. Emile was ecstatic to learn and wrote down everything she said religiously.

After going to visit her family and spending a week with them, he became confident in reading books in Veela. Using this new skill he learned even more about hybrids. It turns out that hybrids have the best information on other hybrids. Going to school with others who were open about their race gave him much joy. He has notebooks full of notes he has taken on his classmates, of course not detailing who specifically the notes are about, just detailing what their species was and what he observed about them.

Of course he can't automatically tell when someone is a hybrid, and he knows better now than to assume. He just knows a lot about those who choose to be open about their race and likes to chat with them about what their lives are like if they are up to it. He also may use this advantage in a fight, if the opportunity arises.

Word Count: 488

Extracurricular: None

Content Changes: None

Trunk Coding: Below

[quote][quote][center][u]Broom Racer?[/u] 
No
[u]Quidditch Player?[/u] 
No
[u]Duelist?[/u] 
No
[u]Stats[/u]
 Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 6 | Strength: 8 | Wisdom: 7 | ArcPower: 6 | Accuracy: 6[/center][/quote][/quote]
[quote][quote][center][u]Abilities[/u]
01 | Comprehend Languages 
[reducio]Emile always looked for new books to read about different animals. Whenever he ran across what looked like a good book about Veela’s it was always in a different language. This made really bothered him and inconvenienced him. After running across the 5th book in a row in a different language he decided to switch his search. Going to the language section of his family library he found many books about many different languages. Finding all the ones he could about Veela, he took them to his room. He spent hours upon hours reading them. Within a week he had finished each one and was ready to re-read and try and learn the language. 

Starting with simple greetings and basic chatter, he quickly moved on to more advanced things. He had always been an academic and spoke French, English, and German. Why would Veela be any different? English and German were both muggle languages and had been fairly easy for him to get down, Veela, however, was a magical language, and the first one he had attempted to learn. Basic things were easy for him to get down. It was the more complicated parts of the language that got him. He would spend hours each night trying to get only a few phrases down. He would walk around the house muttering in Veela to himself. 

After a month and a half of practice, he felt pretty confident in his abilities to keep a basic conversation going, although it was hard to know since he didn’t personally know a Veela he could practice with. However, his parents had noticed how much effort he was putting into learning the language and his mother asked her Veela friend to try and help him. When she told him he was so excited. As soon as the Veela walked in the door he immediately greeted her in Veela. He called her Ms. Paquet.

Ms. Paquet came every weekday for 2 hours to work with him on the language. This was a godsend as he had been pronouncing many things wrong. He had an understanding of the basic mechanics of the language but not how to pronounce anything. Within the following 3 months, he picked up more and more. Ms. Paquet was shocked at how quickly he learned and was impressed with how much he picked up in the few short months. As he grew his parents started planning a trip with Ms. Paquet where he would go and stay with her family for a week, just to test out his Veela with others. 

He was ecstatic and really enjoyed his week with the Veela family. He got many comments on his language skills and lavished in being able to understand what they were saying. When he got home he felt confident enough to get those books in Veela and read them. He has been honing his skill ever since and tries his best to practice twice every weak so he doesn’t lose it.

Wc: 498[/reducio]
02 | Non-Human Enthusiast
[reducio]Emile's obsession with creatures of all sizes has landed him in trouble many times. When he was younger he would often be late coming home because he wanted to explore the creatures that came out in the night time. He would trespass just to follow creatures he found fascinating for as long as possible. Of course these were just regular Muggle creatures, but he loved them nonetheless. 

At home he spent his time reading and reading and reading about all of the creatures in the magical world. His love of all animals big and small lead him to the mystery of half-human hybrids. 

At first Emile didn't believe that really existed, but after talking to his mother and father, he realized they most certainly were. There were many many types of human hybrids or humanoid creatures. Emile was interested in them all. He spent night after night reading though all the books in the LeDoux's library, exhausting all of them. Since his mother saw the enjoyment he got out of learning about these creatures, she went out and bought him more books. 

He spent years reading and learning about anything and everything that these creatures did. When he actively started to look for one was when his mother grew worried. She knew that going up to people he suspected of being hybrids was rude and sometimes dangerous. This combined with his obsession over learning the Veela language, influenced her decision to introduce him to a real life Veela. 

While Emile's and Ms. Paquet's lessons were mostly about the Veela language and learning it, he also started worming in questions about her race in general. She wasn't very keen on talking about it at first, but when she saw his large growth in the Veela language, she eased up. She talked to him about her experiences growing up as Veela and what it was like having a family FULL of Veela's. Emile was ecstatic to learn and wrote down everything she said religiously.

After going to visit her family and spending a week with them, he became confident in reading books in Veela. Using this new skill he learned even more about hybrids. It turns out that hybrids have the best information on other hybrids. Going to school with others who were open about their race gave him much joy. He has notebooks full of notes he has taken on his classmates, of course not detailing who specifically the notes are about, just detailing what their species was and what he observed about them. 

Of course he can't automatically tell when someone is a hybrid, and he knows better now than to assume. He just knows a lot about those who choose to be open about their race and likes to chat with them about what their lives are like if they are up to it. He also may use this advantage in a fight, if the opportunity arises.

Wc: 488[/reducio][/center][/quote][/quote]

APPROVED

Maddie was told that her father moved there with them, but that he succumbed to a deadly magical disease perished during his dangerous line of work.

Madeleine got to show them her favorite aspects of her hometown of Colmar, and they went to Paris and other touristy areas. At the end of their trip in France, her grandparents got her a labradoodle puppy. Those four months spent with her grandparents in Japan and France were some of the happiest times of Madeleine's life so far.

TRUNK

Stamina: 6 | Evasion: 12 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 9 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 8

1st Year: Reserved for Wandmaker when available
2nd Year: Charmer (WC: 401)

Reducio

From the age of four, Madeleine has been learning to dance. It is an art form where she excels and takes great pride. As she went from being a young girl learning to dance the chicken to properly learning ballet, she found that she could move in ways that some of her peers could not. She received almost all of the solos and the leads because people simply loved to watch her. She was on pointe (haha, i'm very punny) with her facial expressions, her execution of the dance moves and her overall stage presence. She was simply charming to watch, and she had a natural grace that allowed her to excel in her classes and recitals. Although she put in tons of practice and hard work, her grace always seemed to come so effortlessly.

Even outside of dance, Madeleine possessed an outlook on life that was charming. She loves most art forms and finds ways to compliment people and their efforts on things even in situations where others would scold them (except for dance - she has high standards for dance). Her hometown of Colmar is known as one of the most beautiful cities in France, and she has explored every inch of the place. She has gone through the museums, researched the architecture and boated on the rivers. Everything about the place is beautiful and probably growing up in such a charming village has rubbed off on her.

The young girl was dubbed as charming from a young age, but it was only amplified after her first year at Beauxbatons. Learning magic was something Madeleine had always looked forward to, but it came as a shock to her that the school placed so much emphasis on showmanship as well. Her mother went to a different wizarding school so she'd had no idea what to expect, but this was even better than she could have hoped! In her classes, she learned how to cast spells accurately, but even more important: gracefully. Her natural grace came in handy when they were being graded on showmanship, because she captured the attention of the whole class at times. Incorporating her proper wand movements and her enunciation of spells, sometimes coupled with a twirl here or an extra brandishing of her wand (after the spell was properly cast) there. She was a natural-born performer, and she loved to have all eyes on her when she was doing well.

3rd year: Perfectionist (WC: 418)

Reducio

Madeleine is well aware of what the term "perfectionist" means, considering that is exactly what she is as a dancer. She has been dancing since the age of four, and it has been drilled into her how important technique is. Every pirouette, every jeté, every relevé - it all needs to be executed flawlessly. In order to be the best of the best, perfection is necessary.

Learning magic at Beauxbatons for the past two years, Maddie has found that she aims to be the same way with her spellcasting. Beauxbatons focuses on the performing arts, and she has learned that combining casting with her dancing makes for very beautiful performances. Sending a stream of sparks above the stage when she raises her arm for a beautiful flourish, using lumos to light a dance in the dark and draw the audience's eye, using attack spells to dramatize the storytelling of dance. All of these are ways to enhance her performances in front of a magical audience, and anything that draws more eyes to her is worth perfecting.

So Maddie really focuses when it comes to spellwork. Being familiar with hard work and practice from her years of dance, it isn't hard for her to get in the same mindset for her schooling. She is a good student in general, but her spellcasting gets most of her attention. Perfecting her wand movement and her enunciation of the spells comes before memorizing the history behind the spells. She is a visual learner, so being able to see the spells and the expected result means she is much more interested in them than the written work of school. Her dance background comes in handy when needing to reproduce a specific movement with her wand just by watching someone else cast. Mads also challenges herself regularly by incorporating her dance with her spells after she feels she has mastered them, so that when she is standing still her spells feel almost effortless in comparison to dancing at the same time. Although she is less motivated with spells that lack a visual component, they still get the same dedication and process of perfection - just so she can stay on top of her wandwork.

All this practice has led to her having a lot of confidence in her magical ability, and she knows that it's very unlikely for her to fail a spell - or even if she does, it almost never backfires. She casts with confidence, and that is also key to success.

APPROVED

Autumn Ivy wrote: 8 Jul 2021, 04:24

Autumn Ivy wrote: 4 Jul 2021, 11:04

3rd Year Updates for Viola Rhea Tempete
Page | viewtopic.php?f=314&t=17018#p269580
Stat changes |
Old:
Stamina - 5 | Evasion - 7 | Strength - 6 | Wisdom - 8 | ArcPower - 6 | Accuracy - 8

New:
Stamina - 5 | Evasion - 8 | Strength - 6 | Wisdom - 10 | ArcPower - 7 | Accuracy - 9

Ability Applications
Applied for 'Perfectionist', not yet accepted.

New Trunk

Trunk

Stats
Stamina - 5 | Evasion - 8 | Strength - 6 | Wisdom - 10 | ArcPower - 7 | Accuracy - 9

Abilities
Charmer

Reducio

Viola is charming. She knows when to smile at he right time, when to speak, when to not, she knows how to take someone's attention and keep it. She has to; it's not like she has a choice. For years she's been groomed to become the perfect daughter, conversationalist and business owner. To achieve her full potential, Viola must be charming.

She mustn't speak unless she has something good to say. She mustn't express her opinion if others do not agree with it. She must smile and be polite and respectful. She must hold up the family reputation. She must be a Tempete. To do this, she must be charming.

Thankfully for her, it comes naturally to Viola to create the illusion of charm, and if it takes a bit of manipulation, sacrifices must be made. She knows how to keep someone hooked, and she's not afraid to do so.
She is flirtatious when she has to be and it would be a lie to say she does not enjoy it. She can be flattering and has mastered the art of manipulation and how to tell people exactly what they need to hear.

She knows how to watch people and see what they react best to, and she knows how to display these things. She can seem charming, respectful and polite, and she is pretty good; it makes sense, considering she's been taught how to do it for years. It was one of the things her tutors taught her. How to charm. It is important to be persuasive, likeable and agreeable. It is important if she is to truly be a Tempete. And that's all she's ever wanted.

Her natural beauty only adds to her charm. She knows she is aesthetically appealing, and she's long learned how to use that to her advantage. She takes good care of her skin and hair, and chooses clothes which do nothing but complement her looks, discomfort or not.

Her charm promises future opportunities, and she is not afraid to use it to get what she wants. Although she's never really had a crush- good grief, she is too emotionally distant to care about people in that way- if she ever did, she would turn their heads around.

After joining Beauxbatons, the extends of her charm have rarely been put to use, as she only needs to put enough charm to have a consistent reputation amongst her fellow students. A time where her charm was fully put to use would be before she joined the school, when she was younger. She used to come to some of her parents' business meetings, as a way of creating emotional appeal.

Lovely Creature

Reducio

Viola is conventionally attractive. To her, this is a weapon and a tactic.

Her long, brown hair is silky in texture and is well-cared for. Viola spends about 45 minutes on it every day, which could be used for other things, but it pays off. Her hair is always in good condition and she is often complimented on it. Her large, baby blue eyes are a nice contrast to her fair skin, which lacks acne due to a methodical, consistent and complicated skin care routine. Her nose is small and fits nicely with the rest of her face. She often wears perfumes produced by her mother's company, which means she smells as good as she looks.

Viola's mother often had her model some of the jewellery produced by her company. This began when she was 6. As a child, this made Viola curious. Why was she modelling when her mother could simply employ someone far older who would actually be paid? It just didn't make sense. It was bad for business to have children work, or any workers be unpaid. One would be child labour while the other would be slavery. Both would be unethical, and could be the cause of a significant lawsuit. Viola knew this only because she had learnt about it in her economic studies class.

Her mother replied dismissively, "Look, darling, you're young and you're beautiful. Your skin is clear, your hair is smooth. We use your beauty to attract customer. Easy. And they cannot see your face, or your entire body all at once; nobody will be able to tell that you aren't an adult employee."

That was a lot of things to unpack for Viola. First of all, "you're beautiful" had been the first time Viola's mother had ever complimented her. Second, it rose the idea that you could break the law and ignore basic ethics as long as it met your goal. Ambition and determination was key. Third of all, and possibly the most important point, it brought up the idea of using her beauty, a gift, as a weapon, a tactic.

Soon, she began realising that a lot of people thought she was aesthetically appealing. And she began wondering how she could use it to her advantage. It's how the flirting began for the precocious young child. It's how she realised she could use her beauty to use people. It's how her manipulation began.

Because she was a lovely creature, and not using that to her advantage could be damned.

Perfectionist

Reducio

You remember when you were seven years old.

Your defensive spell-casting teacher scowls at you as he waits for you to get your wand movement right. He tells you you're doing it wrong. He refuses to explain how you can do it right. It should make you feel angry. It certainly makes you feel confused. But you keep trying, because that's just the way things are.

Honestly, your defensive spell-casting teacher is better than your potions one. He never raises his voice, for example. But you've grown among aristrocrats, so his passive aggressiveness strikes in a way that's almost worse. You asked to view his credentials when he became your tutor. His career and education was far greater than the potion tutor's. But the more you feel his glare burning into your arm, the less you care.

You're not even casting real magic. The thing you're holding, although it could be confused for one, is only a realistic replica of a real wand. You're too young to be casting real magic. If anything makes you feel angry, it's probably that. You've always been a dutiful student, though, and you do enjoy theory in most cases. But you know too much about magic to never have used it, and you have to admit that makes you angry sometimes. It took you a while to identify the emotion, but that's what it is; anger. Hesitant, tentative, but anger nevertheless.

Mother tell you that when you get angry, you should keep quiet, and observe. Everyone has weak spots, she tells you sometimes. When you're angry at them, you find their weak spots and make them regret ever angering you. You're not sure what you should do about this anger though, because it's not really directed at anyone. Your tutors are only doing their job, following orders, and if you got angry at that, you'd be a hypocrite. Your parents are not the ones to direct your anger at, because they're your parents. You know they only want the best for you.

So, you push the anger deep down, and you concentrate. You try to remember the way your tutor talked about the wand movement of the spell. You stop fully, thinking through every flick of his wrist, the way his hands held the smooth wood of his wand. You're almost certain you hear him take that passive aggressive tone again after the confusion at your lack of movement fades away, but you can't be sure. You're not concentrating on him.

You take a deep breath, four counts in, five out. You adjust your grip on the wand, and you try again.

You think you did it correctly, but looking at your tutor's expression, you did not. He mutters a word underneath his breath that you vaguely recognise as a word your father told you was not "fit for a Tempete." It is a matter of horrid luck that this is when your mother decides is the best time to check in on you. She does this with your lessons once every week, and it frustrates you that you excel in all classes and she has seen you during the one time so far in the entire week when you have been struggling.

She takes your tutor aside for a quick chat about your progress. Your tutor explains dutifully, with a look of admiration and worship in his eyes. He looks like he's mildly afraid but fully respecting of your mother, like she is a god in his eyes.

Is that what you look like?

Your mother is a woman who commands fear, admiration and respect. It's as if she rules every ground she steps on, and the charm that oozes from her presence makes everyone act as if that where the case. One day you will be like her.

She strides up to you, her expression transformed from a generally content to a neutral one. She strides, because your mother's name is Lola Thorne, and Lola Thorne doesn't walk, she strides. And it's because you have grown up with Lola Thorne as her mother that you know a "neutral" expression is not one of indifference, it's one of seething rage. Maybe that's also the reason you feel the sudden need to run and never look back. But you won't even entertain that possibility, because it's not one worth entertaining.

"Mr Vermeulen, could you please leave me and my daughter," you know better than to interrupt and correct her grammar, "and wait outside? We should only be a moment."

Your tutor nods with more force and intensity than you think someone of his age should. You don't say that though, because it would be rude, and you're too busy trying not to leave with him. You want nothing more than to leave, or at least look down, look away, look anywhere but at your mother's eyes, for in them lies disappointment. But you're a Tempete, and Tempete's make direct eye contact, and don't run away. Tempete's establish authority.

You don't feel particularly authoritative right now.

The moment your tutor is out of the room, your mother snaps to you.

"Darling, you must understand, this cannot happen. You cannot struggle, you cannot fail. You are a Tempete, and that is a privilege, but not a right. You have not earned that right yet, and if you continue like this, you never will. You realise your father and I only wish the best for you?"

You've done it. You've messed up the single rule. There's nothing much to what you have to do. Just two things; live up to the Tempete legacy, and never disappoint your parents. It's not that hard! You achieve the second when you achieve the first! It should be easy! Why isn't it easy?

"Yes, mother. Of course."

"Then you must understand that when we want the best for you, we expect the best from you. Anything below the best is failure, and Tempete's are not, and will not be, failures."

You nod, because you think that if you talk, you might scream.

"And if you're a failure... Well then, are you a Tempete at all?"

You freeze, and you know you would drop dead if your breath left your body, but maybe you should double check that, because you're fairly certain it just did. Your mother turns without so much as a second glance, pausing as her hand touches the door handle.

"I love you, dear. But I love this family too, and I will not tolerate anything that risks its fall."

You nod, and your mind is blank but too full at the same time, and it hurts. And you realise who you're angry at. You realise who you should be angry at. Yourself. Perfection is reachable if you try hard enough, so you're clearly not trying hard enough. It's like the piece has clicked, and you feel a certain satisfaction. If the problem is you, then it can be controlled. So you'll control it, and you'll be perfect, and you'll live up to the Tempete name, and mother will never have to say 'darling' with a mix of disgust and disappointment.

So you do that. For years, and years, and years. You push yourself. Failure has never been an option for a Tempete, and the moment it becomes an option is the moment you know you'll never be enough to carry that name. One could call you an overachiever, a perfectionist.

You'd rather just call yourself Viola Rhea Tempete.

Activities
Broom racing - No
Quidditch - Yes (First-string keeper)
Duelling - No

Applied for 'Perfectionist' Ability in the wrong place, here it is below. I've also changed the previous post's trunk format to include this ability.

Link to your encyclopedia thread: x
Name of Ability: Perfectionist
Describe why this fits your character - 1263 words:

Reducio

You remember when you were seven years old.

Your defensive spell-casting teacher scowls at you as he waits for you to get your wand movement right. He tells you you're doing it wrong. He refuses to explain how you can do it right. It should make you feel angry. It certainly makes you feel confused. But you keep trying, because that's just the way things are.

Honestly, your defensive spell-casting teacher is better than your potions one. He never raises his voice, for example. But you've grown among aristrocrats, so his passive aggressiveness strikes in a way that's almost worse. You asked to view his credentials when he became your tutor. His career and education was far greater than the potion tutor's. But the more you feel his glare burning into your arm, the less you care.

You're not even casting real magic. The thing you're holding, although it could be confused for one, is only a realistic replica of a real wand. You're too young to be casting real magic. If anything makes you feel angry, it's probably that. You've always been a dutiful student, though, and you do enjoy theory in most cases. But you know too much about magic to never have used it, and you have to admit that makes you angry sometimes. It took you a while to identify the emotion, but that's what it is; anger. Hesitant, tentative, but anger nevertheless.

Mother tell you that when you get angry, you should keep quiet, and observe. Everyone has weak spots, she tells you sometimes. When you're angry at them, you find their weak spots and make them regret ever angering you. You're not sure what you should do about this anger though, because it's not really directed at anyone. Your tutors are only doing their job, following orders, and if you got angry at that, you'd be a hypocrite. Your parents are not the ones to direct your anger at, because they're your parents. You know they only want the best for you.

So, you push the anger deep down, and you concentrate. You try to remember the way your tutor talked about the wand movement of the spell. You stop fully, thinking through every flick of his wrist, the way his hands held the smooth wood of his wand. You're almost certain you hear him take that passive aggressive tone again after the confusion at your lack of movement fades away, but you can't be sure. You're not concentrating on him.

You take a deep breath, four counts in, five out. You adjust your grip on the wand, and you try again.

You think you did it correctly, but looking at your tutor's expression, you did not. He mutters a word underneath his breath that you vaguely recognise as a word your father told you was not "fit for a Tempete." It is a matter of horrid luck that this is when your mother decides is the best time to check in on you. She does this with your lessons once every week, and it frustrates you that you excel in all classes and she has seen you during the one time so far in the entire week when you have been struggling.

She takes your tutor aside for a quick chat about your progress. Your tutor explains dutifully, with a look of admiration and worship in his eyes. He looks like he's mildly afraid but fully respecting of your mother, like she is a god in his eyes.

Is that what you look like?

Your mother is a woman who commands fear, admiration and respect. It's as if she rules every ground she steps on, and the charm that oozes from her presence makes everyone act as if that where the case. One day you will be like her.

She strides up to you, her expression transformed from a generally content to a neutral one. She strides, because your mother's name is Lola Thorne, and Lola Thorne doesn't walk, she strides. And it's because you have grown up with Lola Thorne as her mother that you know a "neutral" expression is not one of indifference, it's one of seething rage. Maybe that's also the reason you feel the sudden need to run and never look back. But you won't even entertain that possibility, because it's not one worth entertaining.

"Mr Vermeulen, could you please leave me and my daughter," you know better than to interrupt and correct her grammar, "and wait outside? We should only be a moment."

Your tutor nods with more force and intensity than you think someone of his age should. You don't say that though, because it would be rude, and you're too busy trying not to leave with him. You want nothing more than to leave, or at least look down, look away, look anywhere but at your mother's eyes, for in them lies disappointment. But you're a Tempete, and Tempete's make direct eye contact, and don't run away. Tempete's establish authority.

You don't feel particularly authoritative right now.

The moment your tutor is out of the room, your mother snaps to you.

"Darling, you must understand, this cannot happen. You cannot struggle, you cannot fail. You are a Tempete, and that is a privilege, but not a right. You have not earned that right yet, and if you continue like this, you never will. You realise your father and I only wish the best for you?"

You've done it. You've messed up the single rule. There's nothing much to what you have to do. Just two things; live up to the Tempete legacy, and never disappoint your parents. It's not that hard! You achieve the second when you achieve the first! It should be easy! Why isn't it easy?

"Yes, mother. Of course."

"Then you must understand that when we want the best for you, we expect the best from you. Anything below the best is failure, and Tempete's are not, and will not be, failures."

You nod, because you think that if you talk, you might scream.

"And if you're a failure... Well then, are you a Tempete at all?"

You freeze, and you know you would drop dead if your breath left your body, but maybe you should double check that, because you're fairly certain it just did. Your mother turns without so much as a second glance, pausing as her hand touches the door handle.

"I love you, dear. But I love this family too, and I will not tolerate anything that risks its fall."

You nod, and your mind is blank but too full at the same time, and it hurts. And you realise who you're angry at. You realise who you should be angry at. Yourself. Perfection is reachable if you try hard enough, so you're clearly not trying hard enough. It's like the piece has clicked, and you feel a certain satisfaction. If the problem is you, then it can be controlled. So you'll control it, and you'll be perfect, and you'll live up to the Tempete name, and mother will never have to say 'darling' with a mix of disgust and disappointment.

So you do that. For years, and years, and years. You push yourself. Failure has never been an option for a Tempete, and the moment it becomes an option is the moment you know you'll never be enough to carry that name. One could call you an overachiever, a perfectionist.

You'd rather just call yourself Viola Rhea Tempete.

APPROVED, I think? Not sure what you changed here but I approved the last update, which I think was the same? If there's been changes, it's not approved as I haven't seen them.

Just here to make sure my André isn't listed as a duellist

NPC Name: André Alarie
Link: link to NPC page
Year: third
Stats: N/A
Abilities: N/A
Extracurricular: Changing it to none!
Content Changes: N/A
Trunk Coding: please place here any special coding you want for your trunk. keep it simple

Reducio

Code: Select all

[quote][center][size=125][b]Stats[/b][/size]
[size=80]
Stamina ~ 6

Evasion ~ 5

Strength ~ 6

Wisdom ~ 8

Arcane Power ~ 7

Accuracy ~ 8

= 40[/size]
[/center][/quote]
[quote][center][size=125][b]Abilities[/b][/size]
[i]First Year ~ Perfectionist[/i] [sub]WC: 418[/sub]
[reducio]
André was a perfectionist, he refused to settle for less. He wanted things to be perfect; he wanted things to be in order and neatly and nicely. Like when he made his plans, all detail filled and clearly done by someone logical, but then you'd ask for his backup plans. And he'd lay it out simply, . He had none. His plans were perfected for quite some time each so he had faith they'd work, they had to go perfectly, if they didn't it was an insult to everything he'd ever done so far, everything that went flawless, that was perfectly perfected that there was no way things couldn't go his way, it was an insult to his skills. Every spell he were to ever learn, every potion he were to ever brew, everything he ever did was perfected down to a tea, a simple equation of how it worked and why it did, because if he were to ever need to make use of these things in the future he wanted them to be perfect, his skills for it perfected, and everything.

He took pride in his good grades, and bad.[ If it was on purpose and his own doing] He took pride in his perfect handwriting which he'd told everybody that it 'just came naturally', when in reality he'd spent days perfecting it because he couldn't stand how it looked. If he was ever going to anything it was going to be perfect and he was going to get it right, this didn't mean it had to be right away, it just meant that in dear time in had to be perfect. Like his strategy for chess. It took months to perfect, but in the end it was all worth it, especially because of every bet that were made if he won, it benefited him and was worth all his hard work. Him being the perfectionist he was, was useful, but from time to time he wished he didn't need things to be as perfect, that maybe sometime he could let loose, adding to this the boy also set quite high standards for himself, and got upset every time these standards weren't met, he could make everything perfect and flawless but apparently not himself.

He going to have to learn someday that he was just human, and made mistakes like everyone else, but for now he was going to pretend he was perfect, flawless, and unable to ever make a mistake, like everything else he did.
[/reducio]
[i]Second Year ~ Charmer[/i][sub]WC: 485[/sub]
[reducio]
André was good looking, there was no way to deny that. From his hair, to his eyes, and his lips, he was a sight for sore eyes. André honestly didn't see it. He didn't think he was [i]that[/i] good looking, but he had to admit he had a way with people, a certain charm, almost like a magnet that attracted them to him.

His manners towards the people he wanted to charm were enough to leave those who'd experienced his wrath left to gawk. I mean, who did he think he was? Getting into fights, ignoring certain authorities, and upsetting foster families so much they had no choice but to send him away. But yet finding a way to charm the socks off[Metaphorically speaking] every girl and guy he met. Surprisingly, there were even moments André found a way to charm himself out of trouble with his teachers at muggle school. He had to admit it, his unique [i]talent[/i]... was useful. And very beneficial to the boy. Even his case worker after hearing everything he's ever done had to admit the boy was polite and sweet, even if he was a handful.

When André realized he had this effect on people, his efforts started small. Like the one day seven-year-old André wanted a treat before bed. Now usually his parents weren't one to give treats and sweets to the boy, especially before bed, but that night seemed to be the exception as he turned his charm up to the max. He then used it to his advantage to get friends, and even at times get them to do what he wanted. His 'friends' like many other people in this world, were just stepping stones on his way to get to his actual goal. From friends it then went to the teachers, they all loved him, he was definitely a favorite student among the kids at his muggle school. And then to 'love interests' when the boy turned ten he noticed every so often girls would point his way, they'd whisper to their friends and when he'd confront the girl or sometimes even boy, about it, they'd blush. It left André with a sort of tool or power over them.. one he had to decide how to use..

By the end of his first year at Beauxbatons he made his choice. He would use it to his advantage, since he had no feelings towards any of the people he was doing this too. It only made the most sense. Sometimes he'd flirt with people for that factor, not caring at all how they feel, and sometimes he made sure to know how they'd feel, he'd flirt with the person for a bit, wait till he's being asked out, then reject them in the most harshest way possible, to keep control of the things around him.

It was true, he was a terrible person, but a charmer nonetheless. 
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APPROVED - removed duellist status, trunk code to relay that used