Post by PROSPERO HYAENIDAE GREAVES on Apr 27, 2011 3:16:19 GMT
[/i], Mother)
The Revolution Has Begun
"There's no need to call me sir Professor."
FULL NAME: Prospero Hyaenidae Greaves
NICKNAMES: Prosper, Pearl
AGE: Twenty Seven
BIRTHDAY: October 31
SEXUALIY: Bisexual
BLOODLINE: Pureblood
HOUSE: Ravenclaw
YEAR: Alumni
JOB: Owner and Operator of Angeli Festivi--ironically, "Festive Angels"--in Knockturn Alley. He specializes in costumes and masks resembling those of the Carnival in Venice; but never think him above or below fashioning whatever one may commission--especially if you're a fellow Death Eater.
SIDE: Eater of Death
SPECIES/SPECIAL ABILITIES: Does cackling like a Hyena count? No, but really--he's an Animagus: Spotted Hyena (Albino). Comically enough, he resembles this animal already through some of his mannerisms--chortling, and strutting with a strange swing in his shoulders and hips, like he's always prowling. Not to mention, his middle name is Hyaenidae. Can you spell anticipation?
CANON: Original
"You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!"
GENERAL APPEARANCE: Let's begin with what people often notice first--he's an albino. Porcelainesque skin and cropped, snow-white hair. The only thing missing is the pink eyes--his are a very light gray (silvery), with honey-hazel flecks around the pupils--and, fortunately, the sickly prognosis. Prosper is actually affected by an uncommon and strange--yet beautiful--strain of albinism, present only in the Wizarding kind.
Another distinguishing trait is Prospero's facial androgyny. He's got a very feminine face, characterized by a slender, pointed nose and "egyptian" shaped eyes that have very full, thick lashes. There is also a reddish beauty mark on his face, too--just below his right eye. It's probably the only point of saturated pigment one will find on his entire body.
Prosper is a tad bit gaunt in build; but not unhealthily or unattractively so. He stands around 5'11, maybe 6' even, and weighs between 135-140 pounds, regularly. He tends to clothe said body in semi-formal wear--you know, clothing that is nice, but not entirely dressy. His favorites include: his black combat boots; a nice pair of dark jeans or pants that fit well--he loathes any sort of looseness in clothing; a button up shirt, often black or dark purple and long-sleeved; and his cloak, which is indigo in color with silver stars shimmering on it.
MOST LIKED FEATURE: He absolutely adores his eyes; and his albinism in general seems to be a distinguished treasure.
MOST HATED FEATURE: Prospero is a little bit on the vain and overzealously confident side; so, there isn't much about himself that he doesn't like; however, if he absolutely had to choose something to be nit-picky about, it would be his gauntness.
HERITAGE: Italian-American / English
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure."
GENERAL PERSONALITY: Prospero is a very... loud individual, speaking figuratively and literally. His person exudes such a tremendous amount of charisma and dominant confidence that to many it is almost sickening, and he is often resented for it. He communicates most effectively through animalistic body language; but don't be surprised if he is simultaneously found blurting left and right with a sassy, savvy, or theatrical efficiency. He is quite frank and unafraid of self expression--he'll tell it like it is, hands down, no shame.
Given that he has such a magnificent grasp on himself, it is no surprise that he is also an avid fan of calling others out; and, heads up: he understands you better than you might think. When he isn't giving his jaws and tongue a workout, he's watching, observing. His intellect and psychological prowess are virtues often overlooked in favor of what is perceived as a strangely accurate lack of sanity; but for your livelihood, don't make that mistake.
To say that Prosper is overzealous is a gross understatement. He's incredibly adamant. Determined to a fault. From the miniscule task to the plot of the century--whatever he sets his mind to goes, and it goes on overdrive. It is not uncommon for him to severely exhaust both himself and his peers, even going so far as to punish and deny himself basic necessities until his goals are met. At least one will always be sure that he is a reliable source--to the death.
HOBBIES:
DISLIKES:
LIKES:
FEARS:
Iron Maidens (and other dark, tight spaces)
Other Torture Devices and Torture Itself
Insects and Spiders[/ul]
SECRETS:
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"I enjoyed the meetings, too. It was like having friends."
GENERAL HISTORY: Prospero Greaves was born in Venice, Italy--the unsuitably beautiful hometown of his dreadful Mother, Andrachnis Bonaventura. His Father was an English Wizard who spent a fair amount of time traveling and, because he was tied into an arranged marriage with a woman he did not fancy at all, he matched himself with the equally well off Italian "princess" to please both himself and his relatives.
In his early years, Prosper's time was split between England and Italy. From when he was born, to being weaned, he lived in Venezia, and fell in love with the city. Unfortunately, at the age of five--when it was believed that he could function perfectly properly without his Mother in the picture--he was sent off to learn of his Father and his origins. England? He didn't fancy it so much. The relocation was traumatic for him, frankly. In fact, the two spouses did not converge until he was accepted into Hogwarts--fifteen years of their married lives were spent living in separate countries, very far apart. Needless to say, the tension in the home was chaotic when this did happen.
Then again, Prosper's Mother, Andrachnis, could make the most complacent and casual of fools knot up their muscles.
At first, he was as close to her as you would expect a baby boy to be. Whether or not she displayed maternal bondage in those early years is left to be desired--they were a very private family, the Bonaventuras. What went on in their glimmering canalside estate was their own to know, and no one else's. It is speculated that those days must have been some kind of special to him, though, because when he looks back on them, he fails to remark, and instead reserves himself to a melancholy silence.
It is obvious, however, that he was never close to his Father, Lucifuge Greaves. Compared with his Mother, the man was "a great pushover who, while trying to be stern, came off as very weak and unconvincing. He was abusive without cause when he was irritated or anxious, and a man who flew off his rocker in vain attempts to intimidate. He was pathetic, and he tanned my hide more than once just grieving over his shortcomings."
Prosper doesn't know whom he came to hate with more passion. His gutless Father, or his simply eerie and manipulative Mother.
Hogwarts was a relief for the boy who, up until his attendance, was quite socially sheltered. He would never be an excessively extroverted child in school, but he was not lacking entirely in graces. A few close companions were made here and there, mostly within his respective Ravenclaw House; however, the most important person to date was a Hufflepuff. Amelia Belle. The two were inseparable from the start, and over the years, that friendship webbed into something a bit more. For the first time while he was away from Venice, he was happy.
Academics came naturally to the boy. He excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms. Classes like Herbology, Muggle Studies, and History of Magic were more or less shrugged off; and he was too creative for Potions--more than once, he ended up blowing himself (and the rest of the class) near to Kingdom Come. Overall, though, he scored consistent high marks, and had decent results for his OWLs and NEWTs.
It was after he graduated that things in the Greaves household really began to fall apart. Irritated with his blatant favors for a Half-Muggle Witch--Amelia--and infuriated by the idea that her control over her son was becoming slack, Andrachnis was once more partial to her true colors. Over the years she had proven herself to be a megalomaniacal woman who joyed in little other than seeing people quiver and sway before her like foliage in a hurricane. No one can be quite sure of the extent of her devilry--no one but Prosper (and Mr. Greaves) himself. At any rate, it is definitely speculated that her antics are what largely contributed to his mental snap.
One night, upon returning home from a visit to Amelia's, the two got into it. As a result, Andrachnis Greaves turned up in the obituaries of the Daily Prophet the following morning, and Lucifuge committed himself to St. Mungo's. It was, and still is, widely believed that Lucifuge is the culprit--that Andrachnis tortured him to insanity and, as a sort of karmatic rebound, was murdered by him. Prosper, grievous and half-mad himself, spent an entire week being fostered by Miss Belle and her family. Then, without a word of the truth, his intentions, or farewell he just dropped off of the face of the Earth.
Eight years later, Prospero Hyaenidae Greaves turned up in Knockturn Alley. He was changed, he was different. He presented himself with a new physicality, a new mentality. Spoke with a new voice, and moved with a new step. It turns out that he--unbeknownst to all others but the recently involved--sought out The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, desperate to fill the void he'd hacked away at by destroying his own Mother. As much as he hated her and her values, and as much as he'd always desired to be as different from her as possible, he couldn't escape what she'd endowed him with. Years of training in the Dark Arts, years of pledging himself, and he became one of them. He took up a discrete position as a costume maker in Knockturn--primarily devoted to providing his wayward brethren with various extravagant forms of cover--blew off anyone he ever knew before the incident at the Estate, and has lived and worked at Angeli Festivi ever since.
FAMILY:
"Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..."
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: (A glimpse into the “previous life” of our Prospero Greaves. First Year at Hogwarts.)
The Black Lake did little justice to Prospero's yearning for canals of Venice, Italy--as was the case with all of the bodies of water in Britain, and not to mention everywhere else thus far; but the pang was eased by his newfound freedom. Of course he was a first year, with limited privileges compared to those of upperclassmen. But he was away from his parents--his Mother in particular-- their oppression, and everything else he had been obliged to succumb to while under the age of Hogwarts admittance. The taste was exquisite.
Perhaps he was a little too generous with his own liberties. Prosper found himself wandering aimlessly down the banks of the Black, his dully half-lidded (but glinting) gray eyes peering into its murky wake. He'd heard rumor of strange creatures there, and the nature of these things supplied no assistance to anyone's attempt to thwart his interest. Eventually though, he halted, and ceased to seem so captivated. Instead, the boy's gaze drifted complacently up to the towers and spires of Hogwarts. Already he was fond of it.
Still with his face tilted in the direction of the castle, but lingering near the placid shores of the eerie loch, Prosper took a smooth and flat stone from the clingy soil and brushed it off. He acted as though he treasured the thing for a while, running his pale fingers over it until it was so smooth and spotless that anyone would have coveted it. In the end though, the boy flung the rock back into the depths where it most likely was forged. It skipped one, two, three, four times until it failed itself and sank.
Farewell.
Although his demeanor may not have betrayed it, Prospero was currently in wait of a particular presence. Amelia. The boy felt his gut do the can-can, or something very relative, and physically clutched at his abdomen in puzzlement. Over the last few days this, and a hotness in the face, had become a regular occurrence; and yet, he had not become quite accustomed to it. Much to his distraction and dismay, the sensation was more pleasant than it was terrible, though simultaneous. And he knew it was exclusive to her, because by now he had already had the chance to test out the observation on others. Ame was the only one who made him feel quite this way.
It was a pestilence to him, because he had been brought up to regard those outside of his family with the same indifference. It was true that he had set out to originally defeat said stereotypical Greaves behaviors, for he was much more affable than his familiars, as proven. However, the action was much simpler when said than it was done. Still, he was determined, and now in the silence and desolation of the Black Lake, he pledged to embrace Ame's ecstasies. Once this had been mentally added to his roster, he bent down again and scooped up another rock that was condemned to the abysmal waters.
"Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate."
NAME: Winsanity
AGE: Eighteen
GENDER: Female
YEARS ROLEPLAYING: Eight
LOCATION: EST
HOW DID YOU FIND US: RPG-Directory
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