Title: LUPIN, remus
Description: sixteen - sixth ]]
Description: sixteen - sixth ]]
Sirius Black - September 25, 2007 08:54 PM (GMT)
REMUS JOHN LUPIN
played by: Lia
- THE PUPPET
nicknames: Lupin, Moony, Loony Loopy Lupin.
date of birth: March 10, 1959.
house: Gryffindor.
age: Sixteen.
year: Sixth.
wand type: Fourteen and one-fourth inches; ash; dragon heartstring.
blood line: Half-blood.
pets: A barn owl, named Damocles.
- THE LOOKS
eye color: Brown.
height&weight: 6’0”; 155 lbs.
played by: Dallas Stovall.
full appearance: Although he’d never believe and never take advantage of it, Remus is a – this is the most he’ll ever admit to – not-bad-looking young man. His hair is dark brown, kept short and carefully brushed out of his face. Remus has dark eyes, well-suited for keeping what he’s thinking private, and they are framed by regular male eyelashes: ones that most girls would pay a bundle for. Parker has an oval-shaped face, with a slightly pointy chin. His mouth is a bit on the wide side, perhaps, but it suits his looks. His smile is bright and lights up his entire face, his laugh infectious. His nose is long, classic, and could be considered Roman except for the kink about halfway down.
Remus stands at a respectably even 6’0”, although his thinness makes him look even taller, if more fragile than he really is. Maybe it’s an incredibly fast metabolism – or maybe it’s the werewolf – but he can eat as much food as he wants and not gain a single pound. In fact, he eats quite a lot at mealtimes. It’s just that he simply never gains weight. As a result, he’s skinny, although not emaciated. He’s just not big and not small. He is a bit gangly, but it’s not too bad, although he has rather big, slightly clunky feet. His hands are covered in scratches and scars from his regular battles in Herbology, especially since he has a tendency to drop things into the plants and has difficulties picking them back up.
Thanks to being a werewolf, Remus always looks slightly sick, pale and tired, although he tries his hardest not to let it affect him. He gets a bit sicklier and slightly feral-looking around the full moon, but he keeps his head down and eyes on the ground, and very few people ever notice.
- THE INSIDES
The Marauders.
Study groups.
Chocolate.
Asparagus.
Christmas.
Butterbeer.
Warmth.
Sunny weather.
Summer.
Old books.
Reading.
Intelligent conversation.
Ravenclaws.
Watching Quidditch.
Fireplaces.
dislikes:
Slytherins.
Being a werewolf.
The outdoors.
Forests.
Heights.
Flying.
Cold weather.
Rain.
Large groups of people.
Being discriminated against.
Having to keep secrets.
Hogsmeade.
strengths:
Sticks to his word and will never break it.
Always plans ahead and usually can’t be found without one.
Good at reading people, for all that he avoids them.
Can see at night like an owl.
Is smarter than most people are.
Defense Against The Dark Arts.
weaknesses:
Turns into a bloodthirsty, ravenous wolf on the full moon.
Has to force himself to interact with other people.
Can’t stand being in small spaces or large crowds.
Can’t call anything finished without it being absolutely perfect.
Absolutely fails at Divination.
habits/quirks:
Rubs his nose when he’s nervous.
Twirls his quill when he knows the answer to a question.
Walks slightly hunched over, as if hiding from something.
Enjoys writing essays.
Left-handed.
boggart: The full moon.
patronus: A falcon; the absolute best memory of his life was when the three Marauders who weren't werewolves agreed to become Animagi in order to accompany him to the Shrieking Shack and help him get through nights of the full moon.
dream job: To be a Professor at Hogwarts, although Remus knows it’s unlikely.
overall personality: In a word (or two), Remus is painfully shy, withdrawn from the social world of Hogwarts – except for the Marauders, the only people he’s very friendly and open with. Usually seen hurrying through the hallways on his way to some destination and rarely stopping to talk to people, he rarely can be seen with an expression on his face, but rather always looking serious and/or worried. He’ll rarely participate in social life, preferring to hang on the edges of the crowd even if he shows up to the party. In conversation, he listens more than speaks, although he babbles if put on the spot by somebody who makes him more nervous than usual; it’s a talent of his to talk about absolutely nothing while still chattering away at the speed of light, wracking his mind for something sensible to tell whoever he’s talking to. As a result, Miles doesn’t give away much personal information, learning quite a bit as he listens; he’s a fantastic listener, since he’ll provide supportive comments, empathize, and never breathe another word of what you’ve told him to another living being. People tend to confide in him, and for good reason. But when people aren’t seeking him to pour their troubles onto his slender shoulders, Remus conceals himself from the rest of the student, preferring reading outside underneath a tree or hidden in the great, far-cast shadows of James Potter or Sirius Black.
Remus gives off the impression of somebody rather dull to have made it the coveted position of a Marauder, although hidden beneath the submissive silence and down-turned eyes is a bright mind that has aced every single test ever laid before it. Those who mistake him for stupid are usually corrected after they try to test him; Remus remembers just about everything he’s ever learned, his photographic memory serving him well when it comes to learning the stupid details that nobody really pays attention to. Unfortunately, despite this lovely intelligence of his, he lacks quite a bit of common sense, partially the cause of his social ineptness. Miles has an unfortunate talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at the absolute wrong time; it’s a disease that’s cost him many a friendship. However, despite the ease with which one would underestimate him, he’s really not that stupid. Just socially dumb. Remus will never say anything bad about anybody; he hates to hurt others’ feelings and will even lie to save them from themselves. When a friendly, bright-faced Hufflepuff asked if her blue-dyed hair would start a new trend, Remus could only bring himself to say, “It’s a nice color. Definitely a very nice color.”
Despite his experience as a werewolf, Miles is very trusting, willing to give anybody a chance. And a second. And a third. Maybe even a fourth, if they ask nicely. He’s actually a bit too trusting, as a matter of fact, and one day he’ll learn that it’s a rather bad idea. Stemming from that trust is a deep loyalty, as well; once Remus is your friend, he’s your friend for life unless you figure out something that will make him hate you, one of the most difficult things in the world to manage. The only thing more difficult is figuring out how to actually get him to talk.
With his talents focused on the great indoors and rarely found out exercising, Remus is left with the talent of sitting around for a long time without getting too bored; he’s become very good at concentrating for a long time, which probably explains those incredible scores on his O.W.L.s. Usually he can be found in the Gryffindor common room or the library, reading away, or perhaps outdoors if it’s a particularly sunny day, although that’s usually with the Marauders. People can occasionally catch him napping, if it’s a very sunny day. It’s almost impossible to distract him from something that he’s doing, making him one of the favorite students to run errands for professors. Remus has the patience to get the job done and then track down whatever professor might have sent him on his quest. Indeed, if he’s doing something he enjoys, it can take an air horn to bring him back to the real world.
Because of his isolationist nature, it’s very rare for Remus to get upset. He’s more likely to try and concede to whoever’s bothering him, trying to acquiesce their requests to the best of his ability before just making up some excuse about having to do something somewhere else and running away from confrontation. He has never been in a fight or real confrontation. After somebody confronts him, however, and he runs away, Remus tries to stay out of sight of everybody for a while, preferring to let things blow over before actually dealing with them. When he’s feeling down, he’ll go off and learn a new spell, consoling himself in pretending to be something he isn’t... like a candidate for a normal life. If he doesn’t have anything new to learn or read, he’ll try to find somebody to give him something to do, preferably alone in the library. Remus consoles himself through studying; being a student is what keeps him functioning.
But don’t be fooled. Remus isn’t depressed or anything. He’s simply shy and not really sure about his social footing, except among the Marauders who are his closest friends. While usually serious, he can occasionally find the inspiration to crack a joke. While Remus may not be the brains of the Marauders, he’s certainly the cautious backup-planner, and he’s absolutely fine with it.
- THE BEGINNING
hometown: Biarritz, France; raised in Maidstone, in Kent.
mother and father: John and Marguerite (née Thierrieault).
brothers and sisters: --
other relatives: --
overall history: As a young man, John Lupin made the mistake of offending Fenrir Greyback, the rightly-feared, monstrous werewolf with a known penchant for infecting the family members of those who had dared to cross him. Terrified for his life, John fled England across the English Channel to France, leaving behind his well-paying job in the Department of Magical Sports and Games. He settled in Bayonne, near Basque country, believing himself well-hidden; he became Jean Lupin, prepared to spend the rest of his life in Bayonne. However, John met a young witch, Marguerite Thierrieault, a recent graduate of Beauxbatons and a member of a very old French pureblood family.
They were married in 1958, and, against John’s wishes, Marguerite insisted they move back to England, one of the only places in Europe she hadn’t traveled to with her family. By the time they returned to England, Remus had been born, and he became the light of their life.
Life passed relatively uneventfully, and John slowly forgot the risk of Fenrir’s promised retribution, and the little Lupin family settled into quiet Maidstone, Kent, in a sizeable house with their backyard right up against a stand of woods in which young Remus loved to play. However, their idyllic life was to soon change when John’s forgotten insult would come back to haunt them. Eight-year-old Remus was outside in the yard, amusing himself in the woods with the family’s loyal dog, Meilleur, when screaming suddenly alerted both John and Marguerite to problems. Remus’ parents rushed outside only to be confronted by the horrific site of Fenrir Greyback between Remus and Meilleur’s body, teeth bared.
Before either of the Lupins could do anything, Greyback attacked, and their lives were changed forever.
John’s worst fear had come to life, and his son was infected with Greyback’s disease. He contacted Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts, desperate for reassurance that his son would still be able to attend the school. Assured that Remus would, indeed, be able to go to Hogwarts, John turned his attention to helping his son adjust to this change in his life.
Again, life passed, and Remus was overjoyed when he received the owl inviting him to attend Hogwarts. Sent off on the train with a new pet, a barn owl named Damocles, and strict warnings not to tell anybody about what the Lupins quietly called his ‘condition’, he ensconced himself in a compartment all to himself, certain that he was going to be able to ride to Hogwarts alone and in comfort. However, his thoughts of solitary confinement were interrupted by the arrival of James Potter, followed by Peter Pettrigrew, followed by Sirius Black.
From that moment on, the four were the Marauders, the terrible quartet of mischief makers of Gryffindor, and the time he spent with them was the happiest of Remus’ life. He found school to be incredible, joyful, although he still avoided other students, and even the nights of the full moon weren’t quite as terrible as before; the first time, the kindly Headmaster had escorted him down to a tunnel, down to a place where nobody would find him, where he wouldn’t be a risk to anybody. When the rest of the Marauders found out about his being a werewolf, their immediate willingness to help him and accompany made him just about the happiest boy ever alive.
Now, at the beginning of his sixth year, Remus is a prefect, and going into it with what he hopes is confidence. After all, he’s becoming a respected student at Hogwarts, his high scores and overall brightness occasionally leading people to question why he wasn’t a Ravenclaw. But now, Remus has only one more year to go. Hopefully, this one should be just as good as last.
- THE PUPETEER
contact: email – wearetheshizzit@yahoo.com
other?: --
roleplay example: Kat didn't usually find herself her bars, except when she felt like dancing or clubbing, and she didn't feel that way right now. Rather, she felt tired, exhausted even, fed up with running around behind Noah Cartwright and taking down his schedule and making sure he didn't make too big of an idiot of himself in front of the national media. It was usually a 24/7 job, one that she found herself on all the time, occasionally even spending the night in the White House next to Noah's room on the nights before large, well-publicized events rather than returning to her own dorm at the university, where she was a minor celebrity and constantly plumbed for interesting tidbits about the antics of the extremely attractive First Son. Of course, as the extremely attractive First Son's personal assistant, she was not in a position to disclose those tidbits; she usually just told them about the fabulous parties she got to attend as she followed Noah and elaborated on the descriptions of large events from the newspaper.
People eventually gave up on trying to get all the sordid details and just settled for what Kat would tell them.
Moving easily through the thin crowds - it was only three o' clock on a Friday afternoon, since Noah's official schedule was clear for the evening and he'd told her to go home and have a good time - Kat sat wearily at the bar, resting an elbow on the counter and waving away the bartender, preferring to sit in the warmth of Little Liquor Luck and simply take in the relative quiet. While she appreciated the fact that she had a job, sometimes Kat was almost tempted to call it too much and give Noah her two weeks' notice. Being a student and constantly being on call for the very publicly active son of the President of the United States was more than slightly stressful, a fact that Kat was constantly aware of and was, at the moment, trying to relieve. There were better choices for relieving stress than alcohol, and Kat was well-aware - she'd thought about going to Starbucks or to a smaller coffee shop on campus, but this was closest, and besides, their iced tea was cheap. Chin resting in her hand, she studied the top of the counter, tempted to close her eyes for just a moment but resisting; if she went to sleep at a counter in a bar, even in the middle of the afternoon, who knew what she'd wake up to?
She looked up, dark eyes seeking the bartender, long slender fingers waving just enough to call him towards her. When he asked what he could bring, Kat forced herself to smile politely, since it wouldn't do to snap at him just because she was tired. "Sweet tea, please," she said, the lilting accent left behind by her native Afrikaans making her request sound a lot more interesting and exotic than it really was. "And actually sweet. With plenty of sugar." The barman nodded to acknowledge her request without an offer of alcohol; Kat could only assume that he was used to people from the White House stopping by and requesting non-alcoholic drinks before they made their way home to sleep for a solid fifteen hours. Within minutes, the tea was in front of her, and Kat smiled her thanks as she slid it closer to herself so that she could reach the straw that the bartender had so thoughtfully provided. As always, it was perfect, and as always, it made her relax and think of 'home' in Pennsylvania, although her thoughts never stuck with it for long.
Soon, Kat was studying the other patrons of the bar, slightly disappointed with the afternoon's selection. Then again, the young and successful men of Washington, D.C. were still at work and the young and not-successful-yet students were still in class, like Kat should be tomorrow morning - she was considering sleeping in and maybe, just maybe, skip her conceptual physics class. Truth told, she didn't care much about physics and, in her opinion, nobody should care about physics except seventy-year-old bald men with scruffy beards and two-percent body fat. Physics was for boys in general, anyways; she would've given anything to switch her math and science classes for more dance and journalism classes. They were so much more interesting than sitting around shuffling numbers or listening to the professor explain in mind-numbing details the exact way something happened that she already knew the basics of. Dancing was one of Kat's favorite pastimes, whether it was ballroom, jazz, or just moving to the beat in Binge.
Hm. Speaking of Binge, she hadn't been there in a while, maybe a few months; she'd gotten a ride there with Noah in his spiffy Secret Service limo and they'd gone their separate ways. Since then, she'd just been busy and busier with going back to school while still keeping up with Noah. When had she last just gone out dancing? It seemed like a million years ago, now that she thought of it. Ugh, Noah Cartwright's schedule kept her constantly preoccupied with his life and never thinking of her own.
Noah Cartwright. What kind of sick God had created somebody like him, with the looks and charisma and general nice-guyness to have his way with anyone he liked but without a higher level of alcohol tolerance?
It was twisted, twisted, I tell you.
Kat moodily sipped at her tea, both of her elbows resting on the counter, chin resting on her wrists, the tip of the triangle formed by her arms. If the young man - well, she shouldn't really be calling him that, since he was the same age as she was, and Kat tried not to think of herself as young in the sense of being childish - was going to go out at night and wake up the next morning with a hangover in a strange woman's bed, couldn't he be a little bit more... selective about it? She was certain that she didn't know the entire list, but the list she did know... Well, it just made her feel like she'd gone and failed as a personal assistant by failing to cram his schedule with officials events to keep him from straying.
Kat could stray, of course. But not Noah, never Noah, since the public eye was always on him and not on the quiet-yet-amazingly-stylish girl standing behind him, frantically writing on her Blackberry.
Abruptly she realized how her train of thought had changed over even a third of a glass of tea, and part of her was upset. It was as if she could never keep her thoughts on track, that they always changing without warning or even without a sense of logic to their progression; it was frustrating, and it made her dislike Aubrey even more for giving her all those stupid pamphlets on ADHD. Stupid Aubrey. Stupid pamphlets. Nudging the straw aside with a manicured nail, Kat picked up the glass and quickly drained the rest of it, wishing for a moment that it really was alcohol and not just sweetened iced tea. She hadn't had a very good day, not at all, and coming here and drinking sugar and stained water hadn't made it any better, since apparently her thoughts were determined to keep her upset and fretful over both halves of her current occupation. It wasn't fair, she told herself even as she remembered her father saying wisely that life was never fair.
She pushed away the glass, hanging her head again, her dark curls obscuring the rest of the bar from her view. Ugh. For some reason, today was just not her day; if she could just nap for a few minutes, just a little catnap, she'd be able to go back to her dorm and write that article due at 10am tomorrow. Kat didn't want to take a taxi, though, since she was running a little low on funds and didn't want to ask papa to wire money so near the holidays, and she didn't want to walk, either. Falling asleep on her feet on a busy street walking all the way across Washington, D.C. into Georgetown was not Kat's idea of a pleasant afternoon. Sighing as she doodled absently in the residue left by her tea, view of Little Liquor Luck still hidden by her curls, she tried to concentrate enough to sort through her options.
If her streak of bad luck would just break, somebody from the White House would show up and give her a ride home. Maybe they'd even do her a favor and write that article for her.
Haha, in your dreams, Kitty.