Post by Connor Pine on Sept 24, 2009 11:24:52 GMT 1
Connor Alex Pine
21 , male, heterosexual, muggle, drifter
21 , male, heterosexual, muggle, drifter
the factfile[/font]
Height:6’1
Build:Manly. Well built. Faitly muscled, but not like Arnie.
Boggart: The werewolf that attacked him. Or a parody of it, bigger and darker than any real werewolf. Because it attacked him/is fucking scary.
Dementor: His parents abandoning when he was 9. They told him they were going on holiday and put him on a train to Glasgow with a single suitcase filled with all his worldly possessions.
Amortentia:
Chocolate pudding; Blood; Cinnamon ; Pine trees
Nicknames: N/a
Clothing Style:
Typical muggle clothing. All of it clearly second hand, acquired in charity shops etc. Usually checked shirts, hoodies, jeans and trainers.
[/font][/ul][/size]the biography
Siblings: None.
Relatives:Unknown.
Other Important Figures:None.
Pets: None.
Pensieve:
Connor was born into a good Christian family. He can’t remember much of them, but that he does remember as his mother used to say it once a day, usually when she caught Connor doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He had a pretty happy childhood though, his parents might have been pretty strict, but they still loved him. They took him out for trips for his birthday, to the zoo and the like. You know, all the places muggle parents take their kids. And of course they made dutiful trips to church every Sunday, where Connor attended Sunday School and cut out drawings of scenes from the bible to stick on bits of paper with glitter and stars.
They loved him unconditionally. Or so he thought. His skewed childhood view of the world was thoroughly tested when he was nine years old. The family was attending a late night mass at a church in Croydon. His parents stayed behind to have a word with the vicar and Connor wandered on ahead, out of the church and into the graveyard. Now you might be thinking that wandering into a graveyard alone, at night when you’re only nine years old is a bad idea. You’d be right. Connor never saw the werewolf coming, didn’t even know anything was wrong until the sharp teeth were sinking into his side. The wolf shook him like a ragdoll a few times, but a noise over by the church must have frightened it off, because it dropped him and fled. Leaving Connor with a fleeting glimpse of the hulking beast and wounds that might have killed him; had he not received prompt medical care.
Things seemed to return to normal fairly quickly after that. Connor’s family were muggles and had just assumed he’d been attacked by some wild dog. He recovered and even got special treatment for a while. Turns out getting mauled also gets you spoiled. At the next full moon, however, all that changed. Connor turned, admittedly his wolf form was pretty small and not all that impressive because he was only nine years old. It was still enough to freak his parents the fuck out though. They managed to shut him in the spare room and didn’t let him out for three days, even when he turned back and pleaded through the door.
Eventually they decided on a plan of action. They told Connor that they were all going on holiday, even helped him pack his bag. Then they drove him to the train station and put him on a train with nothing that could trace the boy back to them. It took Connor quite a long time to figure out something was wrong and he didn’t start to kick up a fuss until quite a long time after that, by that point he was miles away from home with no idea how to get back. A kind old lady (who may, or may not have been a witch because she was wearing awfully funny clothes, but he didn’t know it at the time so it’s kind of irrelevant, I digress) took him to the police station and from there he ended up in foster care.
Until the next full moon, of course. He turned again, narrowly avoiding attacking the other kids and carers. In wolf form his instincts told him to run. And so he did, only stopping when he was miles away from anywhere and anyone. Things went from bad to worse from there. He woke up in a field and narrowly avoided being trampled by a horse. Which probably goes quite a way towards explaining why he doesn’t like them very much.
Connor went through a very steep learning curve from there. Not the kind of things you’d expect a nine year old to be learning, like how to read, write and do sums, but how to take care of himself. At first he was too scared to go back into towns where there were people he might hurt, so he took to stealing from farms, mostly vegetables, apart from around the full moon, where larger livestock seemed to inexplicably go missing. After a while he worked out the pattern of his changes and found the courage to venture into smaller villages, where he worked out if you kept your head down nobody really noticed you.
Somewhere along the way he learned about the wizarding world. He could tell there was something different about some people. They smelled funny. Curiosity got the better of him and he followed one of them into Hogsmeade, a village like none other he’d ever seen. A little bit of exploring taught him all he needed to know. Wizarding folk were just like other people, only they waved funny sticks about a lot. Didn’t make much odds to him, nobody ever noticed him anyway. At least not until he skipped town without finishing some odd job he’d started for somebody.
[/ul][/size] [/font]the inner workings
Rare steak (only around the full moon, he’s a vegetarian the rest of the time); Chocolate pudding; The outdoors; Stargazing; Solitude; T.V.; His MP3 player (His parents gave it to him when they abandoned him at the train station. It’s old and only has a few songs, which he listens to on repeat.)
Dislikes:
People; Enclosed spaces; Butterflies (they taste funny); Magic; Reading; Biscuits (they taste funny too); Questions/interrogation; people asking about his past; Horses; Table manners; Shaving; Authority figures (they tend to freak out around him); Animals (they tend to freak out around him too)
Quirks and Habits:
Belches in public; Growls; Never sits with his back to the door; Tells people what they smell like
Mirror of Erised:
-Him living in a mansion, with who he assumes are his parents, with money and belongings and a bed.
- Eating steak (this one would only show up around the full moon as the rest of the time he’s a vegetarian)
In Depth Personality:
As you’d expect from somebody who has been pretty much alone since they were nine, Connor is pretty socially awkward, bordering on antisocial. His mother instilled proper manners into him, but he promptly forgot them all once he was on his own. Nowadays you’ll be incredibly lucky if you hear a please or thank you from him and if you’re easily offended you probably don’t want to see him eating.
Despite some of his less than pleasant behaviour he’s very good at blending into the background. He’s pretty scared of the authorities, either muggle or wizarding, catching up with him and so he tries not to do anything that will get him noticed. Or if he has no choice then he’s very careful of covering up his tracks. In fact he’s generally untrusting of anybody in a position of authority as in his experience they only cause trouble for him or pretend to be his friend and then betray him. This mistrust extends to the general populace and Connor is very guarded about his few possessions, his past and he gets irritable quickly if people start asking too many questions.
Despite the less than pleasant experience Connor had when he was bitten he doesn’t really blame the other werewolf. Sure he’s still scared, especially since all the werewolves he’s met have generally been dicks. However, he knows how difficult it can be to keep control in wolf form, especially when you can smell the fear and blood of prey. Sure he could probably blame his condition for him being pretty much ostracized from society, but as far as he’s concerned that’s other peoples’ ignorance and not any fault of his own.
[/ul][/size] [/font] behind the mask [/font]
Experience: LOTS
Time Zone: Gee. Em. Tee.
How Did You Find Us?: Admin, fool.
Play By: Mr Harry Mark Christopher Judd =D (Guess who suggested that one...)
Sample:[/size][/ul][/font]
Abe used to enjoy his birthdays. He got to be another year older and by default another year cooler, everybody paid attention to him and told him how great he was and people gave him gifts. Admittedly sometimes those gifts were socks, or a bottle of butterbeer or a slightly melted chocolate frog, but that was a hazard he’d learned to expect from being the Hufflepuff Head of House. At least he got presents from his students and last year Silas had got him a stripper (well sort of, he’d put it on Abe’s tab, but it was the thought that counted right?) which more than made up for any of the lacklustre gifts.
Somewhere along the way, though, he’d realised that at around 25 you started getting less cool with age, at least in the eyes of his students and since they made up about 90% of the people he knew that was a pretty big deal. That took increasing amounts of enjoyment out of the big day until concluded that when he hit 30 his life was pretty much over. Abe really, really didn’t want to turn 30, but the day had, rather inevitably, crept up on him anyway. He’d been moping in his office about it for nearly a week and also tried not to give in to the niggling realisation that he really didn’t feel all that different. He hadn’t suddenly decided that tartan slippers were the footwear of the future, nor had all the hair on the top of his head fallen out forcing him to resort to a comb-over.
There were only so many hours in a day you could spend sulking though and, while Abe was quite sure Connery would have lasted a lot longer sighing dramatically and staring pensively into the fireplace, he soon grew bored and decided perhaps marking a few of his student’s essays might do a little bit to break up the monotony of brooding. Settling down at his desk, Abe picked up the first roll of parchment he saw and skimmed quickly through the essay. Interesting theory, unfortunate really that it was completely and utterly wrong, still he couldn’t bring himself to give the poor kid a T. He dipped his quill into the bottle of ink near his elbow then promptly dropped it, splattering ink onto the wooden surface of the desk as Cait appeared in front of him.
”Merlin Cait, can’t you knock?” He teased, lips quirking into a quick smile. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Idris was being especially grumpy recently, refusing Abe’s invites to go out for a drink and claiming he didn’t want to listen to Abe bitching and moaning about Jacaranda and being 30. Idris got like that sometimes and he and Cait had long ago learned it was easier to show a united front of ‘having a good time without him’ until he got over it, miserable bastard. Of course this time round they’d been a little slow on the uptake, both of them too busy moping about their own problems to realise that the three of them were becoming incredibly dull and boring. And wasn’t that what Abe had been worrying about happening when he turned 30 in the first place?
”You’re right, it is dull around here.” Abe agreed. ”With the students back after the holidays the castle has got so...” He waved a hand vaguely, searching for the right word. ”Scholarly.” It might have been a bit hypocritical of Abe to be complaining about that when he was probably one of the most scholarly people in the school, but he was feeling rebellious and he wanted drink and Cait was never going to perk up if she hung around the castle any longer. ”Let’s go to the pub.” He said, because secretly that was Abe’s solution to every woe.
Somewhere along the way, though, he’d realised that at around 25 you started getting less cool with age, at least in the eyes of his students and since they made up about 90% of the people he knew that was a pretty big deal. That took increasing amounts of enjoyment out of the big day until concluded that when he hit 30 his life was pretty much over. Abe really, really didn’t want to turn 30, but the day had, rather inevitably, crept up on him anyway. He’d been moping in his office about it for nearly a week and also tried not to give in to the niggling realisation that he really didn’t feel all that different. He hadn’t suddenly decided that tartan slippers were the footwear of the future, nor had all the hair on the top of his head fallen out forcing him to resort to a comb-over.
There were only so many hours in a day you could spend sulking though and, while Abe was quite sure Connery would have lasted a lot longer sighing dramatically and staring pensively into the fireplace, he soon grew bored and decided perhaps marking a few of his student’s essays might do a little bit to break up the monotony of brooding. Settling down at his desk, Abe picked up the first roll of parchment he saw and skimmed quickly through the essay. Interesting theory, unfortunate really that it was completely and utterly wrong, still he couldn’t bring himself to give the poor kid a T. He dipped his quill into the bottle of ink near his elbow then promptly dropped it, splattering ink onto the wooden surface of the desk as Cait appeared in front of him.
”Merlin Cait, can’t you knock?” He teased, lips quirking into a quick smile. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Idris was being especially grumpy recently, refusing Abe’s invites to go out for a drink and claiming he didn’t want to listen to Abe bitching and moaning about Jacaranda and being 30. Idris got like that sometimes and he and Cait had long ago learned it was easier to show a united front of ‘having a good time without him’ until he got over it, miserable bastard. Of course this time round they’d been a little slow on the uptake, both of them too busy moping about their own problems to realise that the three of them were becoming incredibly dull and boring. And wasn’t that what Abe had been worrying about happening when he turned 30 in the first place?
”You’re right, it is dull around here.” Abe agreed. ”With the students back after the holidays the castle has got so...” He waved a hand vaguely, searching for the right word. ”Scholarly.” It might have been a bit hypocritical of Abe to be complaining about that when he was probably one of the most scholarly people in the school, but he was feeling rebellious and he wanted drink and Cait was never going to perk up if she hung around the castle any longer. ”Let’s go to the pub.” He said, because secretly that was Abe’s solution to every woe.
