STEBBINS, geoffrey kelan

[stebbins]

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I BEEN ROAMIN' AROUND ,

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always lookin' down at all i see
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GEOFFREY KELAN STEBBINS[/center]

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PAINTED FACES FILL ,

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the spaces i can't reach
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[/B] "Geoffrey Kelan Stebbins. My mum always liked the name Geoffrey because of that muggle poet Geoffrey Chaucer. Her folks weren't the type I'd associate m'self with nowadays with their views on equality and all that nonsense. The funny thing is, Geoffrey has multiple meanings and one of them is hostage; whether that means I'm a hostage or I'm bound to take some of my own has no meaning in my book. I simply find it a tad ironic. As for Kelan, it means slender, which fits I guess, as I am a right good-looking fellow."

NICKNAMES: "I'm probably one of the less snobbish of the DE where nicknames are involved. Use them if you like, but if I don't care for one I'll gladly let you know. My younger brother started callin' me Kel after he had difficulties spelling my first name; he has some problems with words, but that doesn't count him out in my book, he's a smart gent otherwise. My other brother, the Hufflepuff git, start calling me Geof right off the get-go because Geoffrey was too hard for mummy's ickle boy to say. He added an insipid -y at the end from years two to five before I righted him on that."

AGE: "I turned nineteen on January thirteenth this year."

YEAR: "Psh. I left that God awful place two years ago."

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: "I'm really indifferent to the whole choosing a specific gender to get intimate with, so I guess I'm bisexual. It depends on my mood, really, and if you're a good lay or not."

D.O.B.: "I was born on January 13, 2003. On that day in history (1958), Peter Manuel was arrested in Glasgow, Scotland, after a series of attacks over two years that left between seven and 15 people dead. Cheery, huh?"

HOUSE/FORMER HOUSE: "I rocked the Ravenclaw robes just like m'mum and m'dad. My younger brother did, too. Then there was that Hufflepuff git that stained our family. Ugh. He infuriates me."

ALLEGIANCE: "I am a proud member of the Death Eaters. I have the tattoo and everything. I keep it hidden to keep my job, though."

PROFESSION: "I'm currently working in the Department of Mysteries, but I'm training to be a hit wizard. Oh, if only they knew."

WAND TYPE: "My wand is made from Persimmon wood--rather girly if you ask me--and has the hair of a Selkie maiden as it's core. Olivander, the old fool, said that it was peculiar that the wand picked me, told me it was strange given it's core. Selkies are beings forced into servitude by arrogant, greedy, hornylonely fishermen. The look he gave me was not something I was happy about. Old git got a rise out of me, that was for certain, and my father wasn't too happy either. Oh, and it's eleven inches long."

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YOU KNOW THAT I ,

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could use somebody
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[/B] "My hair is a bit of an irritant to me. It's dark blonde, but looks starw-colored in some lights. And it's not like the dumb blonde jokes ever get tolerable. I would never dye it, though. Or charm it to some other color. As irritating as it is, there's no point in changing something natural. I keep it between short and medium length usually; it's a shaggy cut that allows my hair to move or set depending on how the wind is."

EYE COLOUR: "My eyes are set a little deeper, but are the most stunning blue that it doesn't matter. Slightly heavy-lidded, they don't betray my intelligence."

HEIGHT: "I'm not terribly tall, but I'm not short by any means. I stand at six foot one inch without shoes."

WEIGHT: "I weigh in at a solid one-hundred-sixty. It's all muscle, for sure."

BODY TYPE: "I'm built like an athlete, which is to be expected considering my Quidditch-centric background. I have a slender waist and can be described as all arms and legs, I suppose."

VOICE: "I have the typical southwest accent sharpening my speech. Think of the Malfoys, yeah. They're pretty well-known in that area. It's a nice tenor sound and I'm told it's quite pleasant to listen to. Unless, of course, you're on the wrong end of a curse, then it's not so soothing."

PERSONAL STYLE: "I prefer dressy-casual clothing over some of those grungy comfortable clothes I see some witches and wizards wearing. Honestly, have some class. In the public eye (more importantly at work), I wear grey or black slacks with a long sleeve shirt of a tasteful color, and a pair of shoes that are respectable though comfortable. Pastels and neons are not for me, thank you very much; I prefer calmer or darker tones. At home or in a more relaxed setting I may wear jeans that are fitted and a less business-like shirt, but almost always long-sleeved. You never know who might spot that incriminating little tattoo, and really, killing someone on the streets is just distasteful."

GENERAL DESCRIPTION: "Let's start with my face. My face is probably my most striking feature... Aside from my rocking body, that is. I have nice cheekbones that are high, but not obnoxiously so. Obnoxiously high cheekbones bother me. My nose is a little large, but it fits on my face. It slopes down gently and is nice and straight. My lips are nice and full, but not feminine. Guys who take pride in feminine lips are gits. You're supposed to look manly, not like a god damn pansy, you arse. Oh, and I have a scar on my left cheek from falling off my broom when I was eight. I think it's unsightly, but not many notice it.

Moving on to said rocking body. As I said I'm not gargantuan in height, but I'm tall enough. I don't think I would like being any taller than I am. Let's hope I stay this height, huh? Anyway, I'm a little on the thin side, but I'm well-built from six years on the Quidditch pitch. My arms and my legs are toned and rather nice to look at, if I do say so m'self. I have slender fingers that like to tickle the ivories and concerned my mother because her muggle-loving parents thought was a sign of some defect when I was a child."

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AND ALL YOU KNOW ,

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and how you speak
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+ quidditch
+ death eaters
+ hot chocolate
+ bailey's irish cream
+ drawing
+ jam and toast
+ pain
+ sugar quills
+ acid pops
+ music -- instrumental, mostly (i.e. piano)
+ red wine
+ the library
+ men and women
+ french
+ fencing

CHARACTER DISLIKES:
- order of the pheonix members
- chocolate frogs
- astronomy
- treacle tart
- mudbloods and half-bloods
- house elves
- fizzing whizbees
- olivander ("old git thinks he knows ev'rything 'bout a person 'cause of their wand.")
- stains and dirty clothes
- muggy weather
- soda
- whiskey ("it makes me downright intolerable. not that i'm all that tolerable anyway.")
- enclosed spaces

GOALS:
"I want to be a Hit Wizard. I couldn't become an Auror with my marks in Transfiguration (bloody awful and useless class, if y'ask me), so I'll be the next best thing. Well, next best thing, in my humble opinion. It'll help with the whole keeping our ranks out of Azkaban, after all."

BOGGART:
"I see an Iron Maiden with bloodstains on it. I don't quite understand the meaning of it, but I think it has to do with my dislike of stains and enclosed spaces. Who knows."

PATRONUS:
"After a quidditch game that m'dad's team won, he took me up on his broom as the crowd cheered for the Tornadoes. It was such a high that I will never be able to forget it."

DEMENTOR:
"My worst memory was the one time my brothers and I stayed at my maternal grandparents house in Bristol. Right nutjobs, they are. Muggle supporters and lovers of the Ministry. God awful people. It was the worst weekend of my life. My mum and dad went off to a Quidditch game and Gabriel cried because he didn't want to sit in the hot sun, so we all got punished. We had to sit there and watch stupid muggle shows and talk nice with their stupid muggle neighbors. By the end of the trip, I wanted to off m'self."

AMORENTIA:
? ink
? match smoke
? freshly baked bread
? parchment

BASIC PERSONALITY: Arrogant, Clever, Cynical, Graceful, Judgemental, Lonely, Masochistic, Sadistic, Sociopathic, Stubborn, and Tactful.

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COUNTLESS LOVERS ,

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under cover of the streets
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[/B] Bradley Stebbins.

MOTHER: Samantha Stebbins (née Fawcett)

BROTHER(S):
Ryan Elliot Stebbins (18)
Gabriel Alexander Stebbins (17 - Hufflepuff, seventh year)

SISTER(S):
---

OTHER:
"We're very close to our paternal grandparents. My dad doesn't let us see out mum's parents all that often if it can be helped."

BLOOD STATUS: "Pure, obviously."

HOMETOWN: Wiltshire.

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Greek Street, SoHo, London, England

BIOGRAPHY:
Geoffrey’s start in life wasn’t the most ideal. Born during a freak ice storm on January thirteenth, the Stebbins’ were unable to go to the hospital to have their first child. After hours of painful labor and many tears, Geoffrey was born to the exhausted family. He was placed in the arms of his sobbing mother by their midwife witch, and he cried through the night as the wind howled along with him outside. A boy with impressive lungs, he was their pride and joy. Before he was even a year old, Geoffrey had taken his first steps and had learned his first words. He was a great mind, to be sure, his father proclaimed.

The Stebbins’ welcomed their second and third children into the world in the next two years, but their focus on their first child never waned. Too young to feel any type of jealousy toward Ryan, Geoffrey felt an unabashed jealousy toward Gabriel as he was the youngest and final child. He and Ryan bonded quickly, causing trouble and ignoring their baby brother for the most part, and even with his learning difficulties, Ryan excelled just as well as Geoffrey did. When their eldest turned three, Bradley bought his son a toy broom, hoping to instill the love of Quidditch into the boy. Geoffrey was a natural and his father is ecstatic, announcing to everyone that his son will be the next greatest thing to happen to Quidditch.

By age seven, the turmoil between Geoffrey and Gabriel had reached a boiling point. Fed up with being referred to as Geoffy, the older boy pushed his brother down the stone steps of their front porch. Grounded for two weeks, he and Gabriel never reconcile and later in life, he appears to be fine with the fall out. At age eight, Geoffrey fell off his broom while he and Ryan were playing catch with their father’s quaffle. Samantha had called them in for lunch and he had lost his balance, which sent him falling into the brush pile near the shed. The accident left him with a scar on his left cheek, but the boy never cried.

When he was nine, the Tutshill Tornadoes, Bradley’s team, win yet another game. As the team flew above the pitch accepting the cheers of their fans, Bradley picked his oldest up and flew him up amongst his teammates. It was there his favorite memory was born. The high that he felt could never be matched. That same year, Geoffrey began playing piano and he is rather skilled.

At eleven, his letter from Hogwarts came and the family made the trip to Diagon Alley to buy what he would need for the upcoming year. It was this trip that instilled a hatred in Geoffrey toward the old wand-maker Olivander, who thought it was quite curious that his wand chose him. With a core of a beast forced into servitude, the man thought it a tad prophetic. Geoffrey simply found it annoying and foolish. Like his parents, he was sorted into Ravenclaw and he, like his peers, spent most of his first year with his house and year mates. During his second year, Geoffrey went out for the Quidditch team and was named Chaser, like his father.

After his time at Hogwarts, where he made his allegiances known to those who shared the same views, Geoffrey took a job at the Ministry after a summer of travel through Europe. He came back the same person, save for a little more leash on his arrogance, but lost touch with his mother and youngest brother, who had made contact with her parents over the summer he was away. Now, he commutes to work everyday from his flat in SoHo and keeps his allegiances under wraps when around those he knows to be supporters of the Order.

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I HOPE IT'S GONNA MAKE ,

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you notice someone like me,
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[/B] sammy

RP EXPERIENCE: three or four years? i can't remember.

HOW YOU FOUND US: CAUTION!

OTHER CHARACTERS: ---

RP SAMPLE:

The smell of the surf was inviting, calming, and Castiel stared out at it longingly from the end of the pier. It would be so very easy to get lost in the vastness of the sea; so very easy to let it consume and hide him from the watchful eye of Heaven... If only for awhile. The angel sighed softly, closing his eyes. Such thoughts were for the fallen and the disobedient, of which he was neither. Or rather, he prayed that he would never be neither.

Gulls cried overhead and the peace was broken. Such foul things. Castiel opened his eyes and looked up at the darkening sky, frowning at the black and white birds that soared above him. Free yet so bothersome. He envied them. Lowering his gaze, he gripped the rail of the pier a little tighter. That feeling was becoming more and more commonplace with him, and it was worrisome. An angel was not supposed to envy. They turned against Him when they did or chose a life of humanity. Castiel could not imagine life without the subtle kiss of God upon his brow with every sunrise or the unimaginable beauty of Heaven.

The fiery sun sank beneath the line of the horizon, but he could still follow it's movements beyond the curve of the earth. He could watch it's descent in all it's wonder. Castiel marveled over the vibrant color of it, comparing it mentally to the color of fall and fire and the hair of Anael's host. Such beauty in that woman that would have been there even if his former leader had not chosen to fall.,, But perhaps she would not have gotten a chance to breathe life at all. Anna Milton had been a miracle, after all.

The angel sighed softly. A miracle to a human family, a disaster to him and assumedly his brothers. Anael had been a formidable warrior before she had torn out her Grace and chose to fall. She had been brilliant and someone to look up to... Even her fall from Heaven had been a brilliant display of the power she had. There had been very little doubt in her eyes even as Castiel watched it happen in slow motion. He had been more scared than she had ever been; scared for him and his siblings and the ramifications her choice may bring, scared for how easily the choice had been made, and scared for her and the happiness she may not have found.

"But you did find it," Castiel murmured to the sea, his eyes closed again. She found it and she knew. Anael was perceptive as ever and she could see his doubts, touch them with spectral fingertips. It was terrifying. "If only I could do the same."

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OFF IN THE NIGHT ,

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while you live it up
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