Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2014 3:13:35 GMT -8
THEO ANDVIK-- SIXTEEN -- SLYTHERIN
full name: Theo Andvik
nicknames: Vik, And, T,
age: sixteen
birthplace: Norway
blood-type: Pure-Blood
sexuality: Heterosexual
year/occupation: Sixth Year
three words to describe character:
pompous
callous
rapscallion
play by: Steven Chevrin
nicknames: Vik, And, T,
age: sixteen
birthplace: Norway
blood-type: Pure-Blood
sexuality: Heterosexual
year/occupation: Sixth Year
three words to describe character:
pompous
callous
rapscallion
play by: Steven Chevrin
Scanning cursorily through her expression, even from the corner if his eyes, the bloke find it irresistible to keep his sight away of her, riveted to the pale skin that somehow lured him, now so cleansed and pure that it was incredibly hard to depict it as a tainted and tarnished sample of integument, as the one pertaining to a mud-blood like her. Clashing inwardly, his human reasoning and his biasing elite innuendos waded into strife, whopping each other with the colossal strength of rampage and berserk beasts, reclaiming the utmost of Verrell’s ratiocination, as to tethering him, to manipulate him, accordingly. With his eying aimed towards the window panes, lost in the endless void that the glistening crystal proved, with the visible scratches and the dust harboured through years, besmirching the landscape, even without intent, through the lens. ‘Could it be? … ’ such pondering could only reverberate inside his thoughts, just as he had somehow inferred the answer, as it was before him, like the filthy glass he had set his vision upon. The stains and the dirt could block view in a way it was distinct to see through. And without second guesses, the bloke strolled off her, his head turning still to face the window as he let his hand clenched the window locks and twitch them slightly, shoving the pane forth as it opened widely, letting the air absconded, lost in the atmosphere as it was, inviting a gust of wind inside, to mitigate the asphyxiating notion there.
“Come here…” intended as a command, but sounding as an invitation, the man fumbled about with his right until her wrist was close enough to grip it. He gently pulled her close to him as he let her occupy the seat with her knees, in the way he was somehow doing it, clutching the verge of the window as he out jutted his head, letting the air patted him lightly on the face, obliging him to mid-close his lids in order to be able to still see. “Could you believe we were missing this? …” the bloke let her body blended neatly to his, having her in front of him as he delicately pushed her forth, as for her to admire at the venue. From where he could rest his vision at, verdure spanned the fields, with colourful interspersed oaks, extending beyond boundaries, shrouding mountains and opening clearings, in hues of green with a hazing mist, spreading through the trunks, branches and pretty much filling each nook from the woods, waxing the intensity of the whiting panorama as it reached the school grounds, enhancing the contrast of colours as the greenish tinges increased and expanded in more regular masses, interjected by maroon and yellow at some random spots.
“Beautiful… isn’t it?” Verrell hissed, feeding his inner poet soul, as his most reserved notion, reserved in secrecy for himself, and himself only. “There are many things you don’t know about me… people don’t know about me… they just assume I am something because that’s the image they framed in their minds” his words, burdened with serenity withheld a sincere hint, attempting to make himself clear and render her fuzzing head at ease. “It’s crazy… but I often seat in the solitude of my room and I just scrabble down some poems… about nature… about love… and about anything my sensitive soul is capable of capturing” this was ludicrous, as he was exposing himself in a way he hadn’t ever done, unveiling his darkest and most humiliating secret to her, as if nothing, like if she was sufficiently reliable to take that to the grave with her. “My heart goes in awe whenever I set my eyes upon her… they gleam with sorrow as for the immense ail she conceals within… Does not she know she’s not alone? … Does she need been told?” versing in the voice of a bohemian troubadour, the man fixed his orbs in the horizon before darting them straight into hers. “You just need to open the window to see clearly through what you think you’re actually seeing” as a metaphor, the man stared fixedly at her, sinking into hers as he craned his neck downwards unconsciously, pressing his lips against hers, as the confounding whit past him, knowing for sure that it was then where he belonged, and her whom he belonged with.
“Come here…” intended as a command, but sounding as an invitation, the man fumbled about with his right until her wrist was close enough to grip it. He gently pulled her close to him as he let her occupy the seat with her knees, in the way he was somehow doing it, clutching the verge of the window as he out jutted his head, letting the air patted him lightly on the face, obliging him to mid-close his lids in order to be able to still see. “Could you believe we were missing this? …” the bloke let her body blended neatly to his, having her in front of him as he delicately pushed her forth, as for her to admire at the venue. From where he could rest his vision at, verdure spanned the fields, with colourful interspersed oaks, extending beyond boundaries, shrouding mountains and opening clearings, in hues of green with a hazing mist, spreading through the trunks, branches and pretty much filling each nook from the woods, waxing the intensity of the whiting panorama as it reached the school grounds, enhancing the contrast of colours as the greenish tinges increased and expanded in more regular masses, interjected by maroon and yellow at some random spots.
“Beautiful… isn’t it?” Verrell hissed, feeding his inner poet soul, as his most reserved notion, reserved in secrecy for himself, and himself only. “There are many things you don’t know about me… people don’t know about me… they just assume I am something because that’s the image they framed in their minds” his words, burdened with serenity withheld a sincere hint, attempting to make himself clear and render her fuzzing head at ease. “It’s crazy… but I often seat in the solitude of my room and I just scrabble down some poems… about nature… about love… and about anything my sensitive soul is capable of capturing” this was ludicrous, as he was exposing himself in a way he hadn’t ever done, unveiling his darkest and most humiliating secret to her, as if nothing, like if she was sufficiently reliable to take that to the grave with her. “My heart goes in awe whenever I set my eyes upon her… they gleam with sorrow as for the immense ail she conceals within… Does not she know she’s not alone? … Does she need been told?” versing in the voice of a bohemian troubadour, the man fixed his orbs in the horizon before darting them straight into hers. “You just need to open the window to see clearly through what you think you’re actually seeing” as a metaphor, the man stared fixedly at her, sinking into hers as he craned his neck downwards unconsciously, pressing his lips against hers, as the confounding whit past him, knowing for sure that it was then where he belonged, and her whom he belonged with.
EDWARD -- 24 -- NONE
