Viridian [MUGGLE]

[Viridian]

*~.V I R I D I A N.~*

“RARE IS THE UNION OF BEAUTY AND PURITY.” -Juvenal
-----*-----
The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with caution.
- Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
-----*-----

FULL NAME. His birth name is unknown. The name he bares now, Viridian, was given to him by his master.
NICKNAMES. Boy, DiDi, Toy, Pet, The Court Dancer, Goldwell's Boy, The Mesmerizing Muggle, The Dancing Boy, etc.
BIRTHDATE. December 12th
AGE 17
BLOOD MUGGLE!
POSITION DESIRED Dancer/Entertainer (as a servant in his master's court)
CANON OR ORIGINAL? Original

-----*-----
It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.
- Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
-----*-----

HAIR&EYES His gentle green gaze reflects his role when preforming, often twinkling playfully, glimmering with steady passion, or fragile as glass with sorrow. His hair is dark and usually kept short at the sides and longer in the middle where he braids small items like feathers, faux dread extensions, beads, and other things.
HEIGHT&WEIGHT 5' 8" and 130 lbs
FACE CLAIM Illan Riviere

-----*-----
I don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me.
- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

-----*-----

WAND None
LIKES

• Dancing
• Performance
• Those rare days to himself
• Gifts
• Admirers
• Fruit
• Intricate accessories (like silver pieces, feathers, tassels, beads, shells, and embroidered cloth)

DISLIKES 

• His master, on occasion
• Some of the other servants
• Being looked down upon for being a muggle
• Punishment
• When he was younger, cleaning the toilets
• Eating leftovers
• Peony, especially, who once destroyed some of his things out of spite

BOGGART The image of the filthy little boy who no longer had a home nor a family, confused, afraid, and alone. He doesn't want to be that boy again. He doesn't want to experience such a thing.
MIRROR OF ERISED All that Viridian desires is to dance. Even if he were no longer a servant in the house of Goldwell, he would still dance and dance until the end of time.
PATRONUS He can not cast a patronus (or another, for that matter).
PERSONALITY Some may mistake his calm reserve for shyness, but Viridian was never quite shy, not even as a boy. Rather, he is curious, observant, inquisitive, thoughtful, and imaginative. These qualities may often arrest him into a state of silence, turn him reclusive, but it is only human to want to be alone some times and Viridian tends to let his mind wander. Despite all of this, he is very engaging in conversation and interaction with others. He spares none of this in performance, especially playful and comical performances where interaction with the crowd is key. There is a gentleness in his interaction with others, a tenderness that comes in many forms, whether robust and shimmering, or as easy and delicate as a summer breeze. Anger doesn't reside long within him and he finds it easy to forgive and move on because he wishes to live a life without regret. This doesn't make him a fool, however, because he learns from his mistakes and the mistakes of others, and if he is crossed he knows better than to extend trust to that person ever again.


His passion is his strongest, brightest gravitational element and its something everyone can agree on, muggle and wizard alike. Calm and reserved he may usually be, but when he dances the purest essence of his being swells from his center and radiates from his entire being. Both critical and admiring gazes feast upon visual art that dazzles and amazes. As a boy, he was nothing but a cup bearer, a page boy who did menial labor, anything his master told him to do, but now he has the unique ability to transcend his role as a servant, as a muggle, and as a human being to become a piece of art. Onlookers can be brought to their feet in applause or moved to tears just by the way he moves and expresses themes, dreams, ideas, or his perception of the world around him. He doesn't just dance, he becomes the sun, the moon, the stars, love, sorrow, seduction, and a lively bought of laughter the world over.

-----*-----
Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.
- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
-----*-----

BIRTHPLACE France (family origins in Portugal)
SPOUSE None
CHILDREN None
SIBLINGS He has forgotten the names of his siblings.
OTHER His parents, whose names he can't remember, either.
HISTORY The boy who would be called Viridian, The Court Dancer, The Mesmerizing Muggle and many other things, was first the youngest child of a very large and very poor family of immigrants. They traveled from Portugal, to France, to England, more and more children being born at each turn, and when their situation didn't get better in England, it was apparent that there would be no way of providing for 7 children with no home. They were facing a dire situation which called for dire decisions when a lucrative opportunity was presented. 

It was the year the boy turned four years old that he and his brother and sister who were a few years old and only one year apart all had to say goodbye their family. Men in black cloaks came to take them away in exchange for gold coins, enough to finally begin living their lives comfortably as a family. He was not taken with his brother and sister, but separated from them and whisked away to a world within a world, a world of magic. The merchant who bought him was connected to world far deeper, a seedy underground that dealt in things that were never discussed within the outside world. Goods are bought, sold and exchanged, and the boy would find himself for auction. To own a muggle is scandalous, but a show of power among purebloods, putting muggles in their rightful place. Extra measures are to be had when being an owner of a muggle, special precautions that would conceal the ordeal from disapproving eyes.

One such pureblood was Sir Stanley Goldwell, known coincidentally for his wealth. He purchased the boy, looked into his gentle green eyes, and called him Viridian. He dressed him like a doll in shiny shoes, pants with suspenders that stopped at the knee, shirts with frills, flower crowns in his hair, silk bowties, pinched cheeks, and he became something of an accessory, forever by Stanley's side as a page boy and given candy when he was good. It was a peculiar life for Viridian who hadn't a roof over his head, a warm bath at the end of the day or food to eat (even if it was leftovers). For a while, the only thing he wished was that he could share the experience with his family, but as time went on, he began to forget what they looked like, what he had called them other than brother, sister, mother, and father. Before long, Viridian was another servant in the house of Goldwell.

After a couple of years accompanying Sir Goldwell to the many lavish parties he through just as a curiosity for many who have never interacted so exclusively with a muggle before (or even seen one up close!), he decided he should make the boy do more than just stand around holding his cup. He hired practitioners in the arts of song, dance and theater so that he may turn the boy into more of a spectacle. He would entertain like a trained animal, singing and dancing for those better than him. Young and impressionable, Viridian saw this as a gift, an opportunity to do something new and exciting. He was only six and began to undergo grueling training to properly sing popular folk songs, beautiful lines of poetry, perform comedic skits in full costume and make up and learn classical dance elements as well as exotic dance styles from the East. He would illicit applause from patrons of Sir Goldwell's parties, even when his footwork was a bit off, or he forgot his lines. It was thrilling to see these people cheer for him and it was one reason that pushed him to learn more, to practice more, but it was truly the sense of freedom he achieved when he would move freely to music and bare his soul to song that pushed him to transcend the act of just dancing to performance art.

As he became a commodity, he became special, he was not just any servant and Sir Goldwell treated him so, much to the displeasure of his other servants. He received gifts, new things, precious things, fresh fruit, a small room of his own, and freedom to prepare his own performances to dazzle crowds of pureblood wizards who would normally think him less than the dirt beneath the soles of their shoes. They called him The Mesmerizing Muggle for the trance like state people were put in when watching him. Because of him, Sir Goldwell became the talk of certain circles with a more artistic palette, and his parties were never more popular.

Years have passed and at the age of 17 Viridian has achieved a bit of fame among the dark, underbrush of wizarding society. He performs at a level that is unfathomable and simply awing. They call him a strange beauty for his muggle status could never truly make him beautiful, but there is no other way to describe the being he becomes when he dances. He believes nothing is going to change, but change is always right around the corner ready to pounce at any moment and disturb he well balanced order of a person's entire world.

-----*-----
Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.
- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
-----*-----

NAME/ALIAS CaeJae
OTHER CHARACTERS Recent characters are The Twins Dubois. Oldest character is Aiji Carrington. Most known character is Caelan Montgomery. I have many.
RP EXPERIENCE? Nearly ten years in fiction (vampire and fantasy).
RP SAMPLE.
The mere idea of reliance burned in his mind and became a wild flame at the face of this mortal girl. How could he have fallen so low after all of these years to have his very existence weighed in the balance by only a young girl? He found he was not fond of the taste of desperation on his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and grasp her by the throat to choke out the last of her breath, but he didn't move. Not as she continued to touch his flesh nor as she began to remove the garlic cloves. He kept her piercing red gaze with his own blue tundra.



When told to kneel, his jaw clenched, but he slowly climbed from the coffin, chains dragging over velvet and stone before he sank to his knees, arms hanging heavily at his sides as he presented himself to her in a way he found most vulnerable and unfitting of an immortal. He looked wild as he stared up at her through disheveled black hair that hung about his eyes. The only thing that gave him pleasure was the skip in her heartbeat he caught ever so faintly. She was but a fragile mortal after all.



He eyed her when she laughed, mocking his former statement with her own in an accent to mirror his. It was apparent to him then that the blood on her person was not the blood of her body, but the blood of the one who birthed her. He caught the edge in her eyes and felt a new sense of curiosity stir within himself. He cursed it, but it did not disperse. He only began to think to himself:



What worth are the words of one criminalize by charge of similar crimes?



He thought her foolish, then, to believe she had any power over him...but he was still weak and thirsty. He would like to believe he could snap her neck before she could cast a spell, but the odds were unclear and he didn't like to take such chances.



And so, one heavily chained arm rose from his side so that strong, pale, slender fingers could wrap themselves around her delicate wrist. With a flick of her wand, he watched the string of white flame dance over their flesh and interlocked wrists. Like a blazing tether, he somehow felt entirely tied to her in that moment and he knew then that a promise was to be made. Wizards.



Sharp blue eyes glared up at her when he heard his mother tongue fall from her lips and he could not comprehend such a thing. Who was she to know these words? Perhaps she had underestimated her?



"How clever," he said in his Romanian tenor. "A hunter with a talented tongue. I must give credit where it is due, Lady Lockeheart, you are not as dim witted as I assumed you to be."



The very start of a dark and quite demented curl of his lips could be seen just as the candles went out and bathed everything in darkness. His head was bowed, then, the shadows very harsh cast from the little white flame that bound them together. Silently, he prepared himself to make promises he himself would find hard to keep but force to kept through binding magic. He prepared himself for terms he knew he would not find appeasing and he prepared himself to endure the humiliation of such an act. It was this or dawn.



And so, he looked up into her eyes, all amusement gone from his countenance. He was ready.



"Will you, Dragos Cassius Alexandru Fane Constantin of Lazarovici-Diaconscu, obey my every command?"



He spoke in a voice that was hallow and as dead as he. "I will."



"And will you swear never to kill another human, unless I order it?"



"I will."



"And will you, protect my life, and my body from harm until the day I die?"



He looked upon her bloody form, her scarlet hues, her wary soul. The life of a mortal was brief, merely a blink of an eye. He knelt before her now, but it would only be a matter of time before he stood upon her grave.



And so, he bowed his head and answered, "Yes, my Lady."

HOW DID YOU FIND OUR SITE? A friend.
CODE WORD? Can I Slytherin?