07-20-2009, 02:55 PM
Name: Jakyl Reddings
Personality: Jakyl is a nice enough young boy. He keeps to himself and doesn’t talk bad about anyone if he can help it. He has a liking for piercings. He’s a social creature at heart but his confidence is sort of shaky and generally he won’t approach people on his own initiative for fear of them finding him weird or grotesque. He has a deep love of aesthetic and musical beauty, so his main hobbies are photography, art and playing the violin. He used to enjoy hunting.
Bio: Jakyl was born to a man named Foxx Reddings, an English man who writes various magical textbooks, and his wife Marusya Riverne, a Russian woman. The couple later divorced and now Jakyl spends his time attending school at Durmstrang and spending Christmas, Easter and Halloween with his mother, and spending summer with his father in England.
When Jakyl was fifteen he was mauled by an animal while on a hunting trip with his father (not in England, obviously). Due to complications the incident left him with semi-permanent scarring on his face (his right cheek was sliced straight through and is now held together with stitching), arms and back. Because of the damage to his cheek Jakyl doesn’t speak that often, only in emergencies, as his voice sounds strange. It’s possible that his face will heal up eventually.
He will use his wand or a notebook (parchment that is simply stitched together as the top) to write out, He writes mostly in sentence fragments.
He’d try join the Tournement as a way of gaining acceptance.
Jakyl was sitting on his bed in the ship, his knee hogging up and down nervously. He’d never seen Hogwarts before, though his parents had debated sending him there instead of Durmstrang.
His small white kitten, Felix, mewled from her little carrier cage. She was used to a much nicer travel arrangement, but her usual bed had been too big to carry on board.
He pulled his suitcase out from under the bed and checked through everything a fourth time before snapping it shut, then sat and watched as the sunlight come through the portholes, dissolving the usual murky light of the ship. He grabbed his suitcase and the cage, checked his pockets and was ready.
"Without heroes we are all plain people and don't know how far we can go."