Post by ZACK CHARMING on Feb 12, 2010 22:22:05 GMT -5
...Zackary Morgan Charming*
**No, you may not ask me something.**
[/size]**No, you may not ask me something.**
*THESE PICTURES MUST FIT SIDE BY SIDE
...basics*
name Zackary Morgan Charming
nickname Zack
age 15
gender Male
grade Senior (skipped two grades)
hometown Pawling, New York
sexuality Straight
reincarnate Prince Charming
...appearance*
hair color Brown, touseled but tidy
eye color Hazel
build Skinny but not disgustingly so, pleasantly muscular
height 6’ 0”
clothing style Pretty nondescript, a bit scene-ish
distinctive traitsAntisocial, arrogant, but extremely attractive and very, very smart.
...personal*
personality Personality: Zack is not a people person, and interacts with people only when he has a profound obligation to do so. He has trouble opening up to others and never speaks about things that he considers personal matters. He doesn't dish out trust easily, and if someone loses it, they're not getting it back.
Zack is unnaturally good looking, and though he despises the girls in his school, they worship him as an idol. Years of enduring the adoration have built up a quantity of arrogance that makes Zack's personality even more unappealing to those few who see through his handsome facade.
Zack is also gifted with incomparable intelligence: however this quality instills in him a degree of isolation that adds to his aversion to social interaction. He looks down on other people as inferior, and regards everyday people's doings as boring and unstimulating. He looks to computers and calculators to engage his ravenous mind.
past Zack Chaming was born, and spent the majority of his life, in Pawling, New York. His parents were both cold, expressionless people who have paid about as much attention to their son as the principal of a high school does with a single student. They’ve provided Zack with an apartment to live in and rations to survive on, but as far as Zack is concerned his parents are simply a prop, a section of the scenery in which he lives.
He grew up in a life of social isolation. His skin is stained bleach-colored from a life spent in front of a computer. Ever since he can remember, Zack has been trailed wherever he goes by a crowd of obsequious girls, the sums of whose IQ’s probably equals less than half of his. Yet he has never had a true friend, nor a girlfriend. His in-person social interactions are few and far between, and his social skills are lax at best. Looking people in the eye, “please” and “thank you”, and other actions considered normal human behavior are conscious decisions for him, which he often chooses not to uphold.
There has only been one human being that Zack ever truly cared about, or ever been truly affected by. But any thought of her now slices his heart to the core. Zack has basically trudged through his life atop a pedestal , yet friendless and alone, trying to avoid another relationship that could hurt him the way that She did. Zack’s stony, expressionless features are an impenetrable shield that nothing and no one will ever pierce again.
present Although Zack is only fifteen years old, he is currently a senior in high school. He is resented by majority of the male student population for his perfect grades and good looks which hold the attention of every girl in the school. Zack is well aware of this, and has no inclination to change his status on the social ladder, since he considers himself far superior to everyone else of his age.
Underneath his shirt, Zack always wears a chain with a square-shaped locket at the end. Many theories have circulated around his school and town, but nobody has any real answers as to the purpose, significance, or contents of the locket. Anyone who inquires is answered with a blank stare and a silent shake of the head.
likes Complex machinery, puzzles, paradoxes, sarcasm, math and physics
dislikes Social interaction, unintelligent people, inane chatter, frivolity, most of his adoring girls
other notes Zack often dreams about fairies. He can’t explain this phenomenon, but every time he falls asleep some type of fairy enters his head.
...literature*
book title Cinderella
backstory In the story of Cinderella, Prince Charming has never been interested in any girl. Determined to find a wife for his son, the King invites the most beautiful maidens in the land to a lavish ball. However, Prince Charming rejects every woman who approaches him until he meets Cinderella, who he is immediately smitten with. The two dance until the clock chimes midnight, and Cinderella flees from the castle, leaving behind only a single glass slipper. Of course he reclaims his prize in the end…or so they want you to believe.
...roleplayer*
name Monica
age 14
gender Female
rp experience Numerous years of neopets, heroquest, and zillions of other roleplay sites that I won't go into
how you found ouac CoughShannonCough
rp sample “Cut the crap, Albus. Now’s not the time.” Scorpius ran his finger over the blade of the sword, examining every rove, every ridge and valley. From this close angle it looked like a tiny little world, ridges and scrapes crisscrossing each other in intricate patterns.
Suddenly, like a hook ensnaring a tiny fish, something caught hold of Scorpius’ eye. “Alb, look at this.”
Albus crossed his arms and tapped his foot irritably. “Great Scorp. We found the real horcrux. That’s fascinating, and I’d really love to discuss it in great detail with you at some point when we DON’T HAVE A MURDERER ON OUR TAIL-“
“Albus!” Scorpius interrupted. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Come look.”
Albus rolled his eyes. He clambered gingerly over the pile of bodies and knelt down next to Scorpius to stare at the sword. He glanced disdainfully at the spot Scorpius’ finger indicated. “Great. A bunch of lines. Now can we go?”
Scorpius shook his head exasperatedly. “That’s not it! Look closer.” He leaned his head forward and Albus imitated, skeptically, his eyes flitting nervously to and fro. There was a calculating expression on his face, which usually appeared when he was gauging escape routes. Finally he glanced back at the arbitrary markings, battle scars disfiguring the worn metal…and gasped in astonishment.
“Oh my God…” he whispered, his eyes dilated pools of disbelief. “It’s almost as if Sirius carved the initials of the one who has the last horcrux.”
Albus’s mind was racing. Images swirled around in his head, blending and overlapping like an oversized collage wrapping around his mind. The black-and-white pictures dangling in his father’s study… the tiny, dusty boxes in the corner of the attic that had never been opened and never been moved…the tears in his mother’s eyes at the mention of dogs or rates…the countless questions left unanswered, unacknowledged…and then like the
final piece in a jigsaw puzzle, everything snapped into place.
“Scorpius…” he whispered slowly.
“What’s up?” Scorpius was still focused intently on the lines in the metal, pressing his fingers forcefully into the blade of the sword as if somehow the secret they’d been searching for were locked deep inside.
“Scorp, I…I don’t think Sirius Black’s dead.”
Scorpius’ blue eyes, which had been squeezed tight shut, shot open in shock. “You don’t think…the horcrux is…”
“His.” They whispered the word as one, staring at each other. Albus wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling right now: he couldn’t even describe the emotions that were rampaging through his head, trashing his thoughts and emotions, twisting and obscuring his every concept of reality and the way that things were.
Boom.
The sound echoed through Albus’ head. Then it came again, louder and more drawn out than before. The booms continued, steadily like the beat of an enormous drum. But they both knew that the booms were footsteps. Footsteps fast approaching.
Albus made a split decision. “Run, Scorp. Get out of here.”
Scorpius’ eyes widened and for once Albus could perceive on his face an emotion he’d never seen there before: fear. He’d always known of Scorpius the tough, Scorpius who wasn’t afraid of anything. He’d never seen his friend with anything even remotely resembling agitation, let alone fear. “What about you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m going to stay here. Hold him off while you get as far away from here as you can. I’ll be fine,” Albus added, with more conviction than he felt. “I need you to give the sword to my dad. Show him the initials. He’ll know what it means.”
Scorpius nodded, his face the color of sour milk. “Albus you can’t…he’s going to kill you.”
Albus shook his head. “He’s looking for you, not me. I’m just going to give you as much time as I can.”
Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy gazed into each other’s eyes, overcome with emotion. Albus was overwhelmed with a tsunami of remorse, though he wasn’t sure what for. “I don’t want to lose my best friend,” whispered Scorpius, with a shaking, quavering voice. He looked like he was close to tears. Memories of his best friend flooded Albus’ mind and he felt his face getting warm. He felt like he wanted to cry too.
Abruptly Scorpius turned his face away and sprinted from the room. Albus turned to face the doorway, breathing to the beat of the footsteps that he knew were soon to overcome him.
