Post by snakescantalk on Jul 13, 2009 13:23:30 GMT -5
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I BEEN ROAMIN' AROUND ,
[/font]I BEEN ROAMIN' AROUND ,
always lookin' down at all i see
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CIEL RULSAN VLADISGEROV[/CENTER]
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PAINTED FACES FILL ,
[/font]PAINTED FACES FILL ,
the spaces i can't reach
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NICKNAMES: Sky (literally what his name means), though most people just call him by his first name
AGE: 29 years
D.O.B.: 8th March (ironically enough is Women's Day in Russia xD)
ALLEGIANCE: Whomever he pleases, though currently it lies with the bloodsno- purebloods and Voldemort.
PROFESSION: Care Of Magical Creatures proffessor.
WAND TYPE: 11 7/8 inches, pinewood with a Sleipnir hair core
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YOU KNOW THAT I ,
[/font]YOU KNOW THAT I ,
could use somebody
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EYE COLOUR: Greyish-blue
HEIGHT: 6ft 3in
WEIGHT: (is in KG because I is English xD) 69kg
BODY TYPE: Ciel has a reasonably athletic body, though well-toned, and he is pretty lean. He is actually, underneath all that clothing, built like a whippet, and has the speed to match.
VOICE: It's fairly high considering his age, almost, well, nasal, but this pitch is usually masked by his thick native Russian accent, and is almost permanently curbed by a little bitter edge.
PERSONAL STYLE: His personal style is usually the rugged type that looks like it should have been left behind in the frozen tundras. Usually, on the outside, he's dressed like he's about to freeze, scarf, long jacket that means you can't see what he's got in his belt or whatever, combat style boots. But underneath you'll find he's dressed for the high summer. He doesn't really feel the cold, just dresses like it. Alucard-fedora-style hat and all.
GENERAL DESCRIPTION:
To put it simply, Ciel wouldn't look too out of place in a Victorian airship. He blends in almost anywhere, and prefers it that way, with a down to earth style, a more rugged look than the pureblood minority. He is a bleak person, and that is how he looks as well.
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AND ALL YOU KNOW ,
[/font]AND ALL YOU KNOW ,
and how you speak
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+ His home country
+ Vodka (ha ha, duh)
+ Wallowing in his own bitterness undisturbed
+ Proper snowy winters
+ Owls
+ Flying (broomsticks or otherwise)
+ The quiet
+ Threstrals
+ Any magical creatures, honestly
+ Being left to his own devices
+ Wide open spaces
+ The nighttime hours
CHARACTER DISLIKES:
- All too cheery people
- Mudbloods
- Blood traitors
- The smell of molten metal
- Mistreatment of animals
- People who abuse their power way too much
- Most Order members
- Touching dead people
- Speaking too often
- The loudness of the main school
- Mobs. Literally
- Cramped spaces
- Dancing (not that he's bad at it, just he doesn't enjoy it)
GOALS:
+ To pick up some new magical creatures in this country
+ To not get killed (yet)
BOGGART:
Being stuck somewhere small, usually a metal box. he doesn't have great memories of small places, so his boggart tends to manifest as first a metallic wall, then moves to surround him. He hates that feeling of crampedness and is prone to claustrophobia, so it usually moves in around him, occasionally manifesting with chains too.
PATRONUS:
Summers spent travelling the USSR, when it's warm (HA HA. Russia. Warm. Ha ha. -snorts coca cola-) enough to swim. His Patronus manifests as a rugged horse about five feet high at its shoulders.
DEMENTOR:
Entrapment when he ws younger. His days spent inside the cloying darkness of a metal box, where he was occasionally shut into when he either did wrong, got in the way or his parents were just not in the mood. He tends to hear the metallic clicking of locks shutting.
AMORENTIA:
+ The scent of wet wolf fur after a heavy downpour
+ The sweet musk of hay soaked in honey
+ The dusty interior of a library
He has strange tastes.
BASIC PERSONALITY: bitter, down to earth, distant, calm, cool and calculating, intelligent.
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COUNTLESS LOVERS ,
[/font]COUNTLESS LOVERS ,
under cover of the streets
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MOTHER: Midna Vladisgerov (nee Russano) - 50 yrs - Housewife
BROTHER(S): --
SISTER(S): Vita Vladisgerov - 24 yrs - Wizarding Fashions model
OTHER: --
BLOOD STATUS: Halfbreed (is part vampire, which means he is a dhampir)
HOMETOWN: Stalingrad, Russia
CURRENT RESIDENCE: Varg's Keep, a simplistic converted barn-style house with two floors and a loft, complete with a small stable complex and a vast quantity of land.
BIOGRAPHY:
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I HOPE IT'S GONNA MAKE ,
[/font]I HOPE IT'S GONNA MAKE ,
you notice someone like me,
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RP EXPERIENCE: 4 years.
HOW YOU FOUND US: Through dearest Linders and Kai, on BurnTheDay!
OTHER CHARACTERS: Ha ha. None yet xD
RP SAMPLE:
Rain.
Probably the most abysmal feature of Scottish weather. He glanced out of the window, not truly seeing the splattered rain drops running down the cold glass. The windowsill was smooth, the stones just wide enough for someone to sit on. He could actually imagine the incredulous expressions that some students would have if they knew who was seated, legs pulled up to their chest, hood pulled firmly down so it obscured their entire face, next to that window. The silence was only broken by the staunch downpour of rain outside. He stared through the glass, as if trying to make out anything or anyone on the other side. No such luck. He knew he wouldn't. The rain was too strong, and what insane idiot would step outside in this horrible weather? He tried not to think of who would be stupid enough to do that, even if the answer came readily to his thoughts. He was still, cold eyes unblinking in the pale light.
It wasn't late. Nothing like that. But he couldn't bear, right now, the thought of snapping at more students, like a fox snaps at the heels of sheep on his nighttime rounds. There is only four, maybe five, people I can stand to be around right now and I can guarenttee none of them will be coming within a two mile radius of the castle, he mused silently. They have to reason to be this far north. Not a student passed, but even so he moved a little closer to the window, hood still obscuring his features in a blanket of shadow. Maybe I should go see Antonio. I heard there's been trouble with that slave of his. Can't trust slaves, he rolled his eyes to no one in particular, they're bound to try to escape if you gave them half a chance. A rare smile flickered across his lips for an instant, but disappearing as if wiped away with the rain water scudding down the outside of the window pane.
I swear it wasn't this wet in Russia, he cursed the weather under his breath, but only lightly. He seriously wasn't in the mood today of all days. We got snow, soft bloody snow. Not bloody rain which makes even someone who steps out of the castle for an instant get dredged and put on the semblance of a drowned rat. Which was wholely true, since most of the student, and staff, body had been witness to some first years step outside earlier to play Quidditch (brainless fools), only to come screeching in like tortured cats two seconds late, wet to the skin. Wet through the skin almost. He didn't sympathize. He knew how they felt, oh yes very much so, but he was sure that you had to be extra stupid to make a mistake like that, even after looking out of a convenient window. Really, who makes that kind of mistake? Oh yes, Hufflepuffs. Bet they're related to those two, Willow and Rainbow. What stupid names.
He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open again, hearing footsteps approaching down the otherwise deserted corridor. One gloved hand readjusted his hood so they certainly couldn't see his face. He fervently hoped they just didn't notice him and, for once, just passed on by. No such luck, obviously.
Probably the most abysmal feature of Scottish weather. He glanced out of the window, not truly seeing the splattered rain drops running down the cold glass. The windowsill was smooth, the stones just wide enough for someone to sit on. He could actually imagine the incredulous expressions that some students would have if they knew who was seated, legs pulled up to their chest, hood pulled firmly down so it obscured their entire face, next to that window. The silence was only broken by the staunch downpour of rain outside. He stared through the glass, as if trying to make out anything or anyone on the other side. No such luck. He knew he wouldn't. The rain was too strong, and what insane idiot would step outside in this horrible weather? He tried not to think of who would be stupid enough to do that, even if the answer came readily to his thoughts. He was still, cold eyes unblinking in the pale light.
It wasn't late. Nothing like that. But he couldn't bear, right now, the thought of snapping at more students, like a fox snaps at the heels of sheep on his nighttime rounds. There is only four, maybe five, people I can stand to be around right now and I can guarenttee none of them will be coming within a two mile radius of the castle, he mused silently. They have to reason to be this far north. Not a student passed, but even so he moved a little closer to the window, hood still obscuring his features in a blanket of shadow. Maybe I should go see Antonio. I heard there's been trouble with that slave of his. Can't trust slaves, he rolled his eyes to no one in particular, they're bound to try to escape if you gave them half a chance. A rare smile flickered across his lips for an instant, but disappearing as if wiped away with the rain water scudding down the outside of the window pane.
I swear it wasn't this wet in Russia, he cursed the weather under his breath, but only lightly. He seriously wasn't in the mood today of all days. We got snow, soft bloody snow. Not bloody rain which makes even someone who steps out of the castle for an instant get dredged and put on the semblance of a drowned rat. Which was wholely true, since most of the student, and staff, body had been witness to some first years step outside earlier to play Quidditch (brainless fools), only to come screeching in like tortured cats two seconds late, wet to the skin. Wet through the skin almost. He didn't sympathize. He knew how they felt, oh yes very much so, but he was sure that you had to be extra stupid to make a mistake like that, even after looking out of a convenient window. Really, who makes that kind of mistake? Oh yes, Hufflepuffs. Bet they're related to those two, Willow and Rainbow. What stupid names.
He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open again, hearing footsteps approaching down the otherwise deserted corridor. One gloved hand readjusted his hood so they certainly couldn't see his face. He fervently hoped they just didn't notice him and, for once, just passed on by. No such luck, obviously.
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OFF IN THE NIGHT ,
[/font]OFF IN THE NIGHT ,
while you live it up
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THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY CATE AKA GIRL TALKK
OF CAUTION BBY!. IF USING, LEAVE THIS CREDIT IN. CHANGES TO
COLOURS ARE PERMITTED, BUT DO NOT CHANGE LYRICS ("USE SOMEBODY"
KINGS OF LEON). ENJOY!
OF CAUTION BBY!. IF USING, LEAVE THIS CREDIT IN. CHANGES TO
COLOURS ARE PERMITTED, BUT DO NOT CHANGE LYRICS ("USE SOMEBODY"
KINGS OF LEON). ENJOY!