Post by Deleted on Dec 16, 2013 17:34:44 GMT -8
CELESTE ARTEMIS THERDON -- 16 -- GRYFFINDOR
full name: Celeste Artemis Therdon
nicknames: She doesn't really have any
age: 16
birthplace: Newcastle, England
blood-type: half blood
sexuality: Heterosexual
year/occupation: Sixth
three words to describe character: stubborn, generous, care free
play by: Barbara Palvin
The ticking of the grandfather clock resonated around the cluttered circular room. One of his many panelled televisions hung off the wall its wires fraying and crackling as electricity pulsed through the open circuit. Blake wiped the blood off of his lip as he caught Marcus in deadlocked stare, black eyes met green and as the snarl rippled from his brothers lips Blake braced himself for the oncoming punch. As knuckle met cheek sickening crunch sounded and Blake was thrown backwards against the desk knocking papers and pens into a scattered frenzy.
“I didn't want to do this Blake,” said Marcus as he smoothed down his shirt. He adjusted the cuff-links on his sleeves as he stepped forward. Blake spluttered and wet crimson dribbled from his lips, he gasped as a strong hand wrenched him from the creaking desk and forced him across the room by his collar.
“Look brother,” said Marcus as he pressed Blake's face against the cold glass. Bile rose at the back of his throat at the sight of the carnage, the crumbling ruin of what was once the southern wing began to glow a bright orange and his mind had flash backs.
“I'm so cold.” Blonde hair and blood had spilled across the ballroom floor, he'd failed to protect her and yet she'd died protecting everyone else.
“Don't forget about me,” He swallowed thickly as he was pushed further against the glass, blinking his eyes open he stomped hard on Marcus' shoes. Whipping around, he stepped forward with speed he hadn't held since his youth and punched his brother in the gut before aiming another to his chin. Marcus stumbled backwards, slipping on the paperwork he landed with a thud, with a smirk he pressed his palm against the dirty floor and black began to pool beneath him.
nicknames: She doesn't really have any
age: 16
birthplace: Newcastle, England
blood-type: half blood
sexuality: Heterosexual
year/occupation: Sixth
three words to describe character: stubborn, generous, care free
play by: Barbara Palvin
The ticking of the grandfather clock resonated around the cluttered circular room. One of his many panelled televisions hung off the wall its wires fraying and crackling as electricity pulsed through the open circuit. Blake wiped the blood off of his lip as he caught Marcus in deadlocked stare, black eyes met green and as the snarl rippled from his brothers lips Blake braced himself for the oncoming punch. As knuckle met cheek sickening crunch sounded and Blake was thrown backwards against the desk knocking papers and pens into a scattered frenzy.
“I didn't want to do this Blake,” said Marcus as he smoothed down his shirt. He adjusted the cuff-links on his sleeves as he stepped forward. Blake spluttered and wet crimson dribbled from his lips, he gasped as a strong hand wrenched him from the creaking desk and forced him across the room by his collar.
“Look brother,” said Marcus as he pressed Blake's face against the cold glass. Bile rose at the back of his throat at the sight of the carnage, the crumbling ruin of what was once the southern wing began to glow a bright orange and his mind had flash backs.
“I'm so cold.” Blonde hair and blood had spilled across the ballroom floor, he'd failed to protect her and yet she'd died protecting everyone else.
“Don't forget about me,” He swallowed thickly as he was pushed further against the glass, blinking his eyes open he stomped hard on Marcus' shoes. Whipping around, he stepped forward with speed he hadn't held since his youth and punched his brother in the gut before aiming another to his chin. Marcus stumbled backwards, slipping on the paperwork he landed with a thud, with a smirk he pressed his palm against the dirty floor and black began to pool beneath him.
Ellie-- 21-- n/a
