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Zabini, Kasim; Ravenclaw Sixth Year
Topic Started: Jul 24 2006, 01:31 AM (156 Views)
Kasim Zabini
Member Avatar
No, Nobody Wants Him
Ravenclaw Student
CHARACTER DOCUMENTATION
<span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Character Name: Kasim Morathi Ande Zabini
Character Nickname: Ande (other than that stick to Kasim)
Character Age: 17
Character Year: Sixth
House/Alumni: Ravenclaw

Physical Appearance: “I suppose I resemble my father most. Getting her dark skin and pouty mouth. I even possess his flat and straight nose along with his lean musculature. I do have to maintain it by eating properly, and exercising regularly. Sometimes people mistake me for my father at times, and I frankly find that to be a compliment. My skin’s a bit lighter, due to the different degree of dark skin tone of my mother but other than that yes, I’m a ringer for him. I’m decently tall too, scraping in at about 6’2” I am able to tower over many people and I enjoy doing as much.

I don’t look just like my father, no way no how. My eyes are those of my mother’s as well as her hands. I think I even got a bit of her long torso and legs. It makes for wonderful balance and poise, something my father never exactly encouraged you know? Also, while she was dark skinned, it was decently lighter than my father’s skin and made me come out slightly cocoa colored. Don’t get me wrong, I love the color of my skin, I think it looks all rich and alluring and all that jazz, but sometimes I think if I looked more like my father than I do, he wouldn’t get so angry. Which is weird because I look almost exactly like him save for a few body parts that are mums.

It’s confusing really.

So looking like a decent blend of my parents has left me dark skinned, dark eyed, dark haired, and dark minded but that has nothing to do with physical appearances. It all came together though into one nice package that seems to be relatively attractive to the ladies and I certainly don’t mind at all. Hey, if I can get the girls, I must be doing something right no matter what my father has to say. Pity that I value his opinion, no matter how verbally piercing it might be, so much.”


Personality and Traits: :"True to Zabini family tradition, I'm a sadistic little prick. However, the sado-masochistic vibe that I give off is not the dominant part of my personality. No, really, it's not! Okay, so maybe it is, but I swear I’m not that bad. Am I? I am? Well I’m sure there’s a nice plausible reason to just why I cut off your pigtails and dunked your head under the water for two minutes instead of one. Yes, fairly certain.

And actually, there is, but this is neither the time, nor the place, to discuss such unpleasantries.

In any event, besides the whole, I want you to hurt and hey why don’t I get some nice pain while I'm at it routine, is not just a facade I put up for the fans. No, in actuality, I'm a bit weird in the head. All of this will be explained eventually, but suffice it to say that I wasn’t a happy camper growing up and I got to learn the joys of bleeding at an early age.

Weirding you out yet?

Oh come now, I’m not all bad. I do have a soft side you know. Not for my family, no, can’t stand the lot of them. My parents are cruel, aunts, uncles, and the like aren’t much better than them, or so it would seem, and I appear to be the black sheep of the family…at least behind closed doors. No, the whole Death Eater, ‘Yay for Voldemort,’ thing isn’t just a facade meant to throw people. And by people, I mean my relatives. Personally, I don’t care if Voldemort rises or falls, the only reason I’m even ‘in’ with his ranks, is because of father, he was in with him and he wants the same for me. If I joined the rebels it would look bad, if I didn’t join anything it would look worse. While I might not like my family, I’d prefer it if I didn’t get kicked out and have nowhere to go.

Of course, nobody knows about what goes on with my family and myself.

All right, more about the inner workings of my brain. Due to the most random breeding imaginable, I somehow became quite the ladies’ man. I like the girls and the girls, they like me. Fun to look at and all that jazz. I can’t help it, I mean, I know I shouldn’t try to play girls, I know I should pick one to marry and settle down and give my parents grandchildren, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. All the girls I know they’d approve of are bubbly headed, dark minded, and just plain idiotic bimbos, that I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. I mean, seriously, I’ve had better conversations with a great big pile of bricks than I’ve ever had with some of these girls. What I need is someone who wasn’t raised to just lie back, think of England, and procreate like a rabbit until you get a boy. Sometimes I think I got lucky, mom wanted at least one girl to fawn all over so I didn’t get stuck alone in that blasted house and neither did my brother. Which made things so much better, I’m sure.

Did I mention I’ve gone and gotten myself addicted to Muggle cigarettes? Well, I have. They’re quite enjoyable. My new favourites are Marlboro Reds. And that’s enough of my pointless ranting.”

Background/Family History: “Being the middle of all Zabini children, it wasn’t required of me to set an example. I was not the heir, did not have the entire dignity of our family placed on my shoulders the day I arrived at Hogwarts. However, I don’t think my father took any of this into account. I suppose I was a disappointment, having more brains than brawn and being shoved into Ravenclaw, so my father and mother were completely stumped about what went wrong with me…

Well, I suppose in an effort to correct whatever was wrong, my father started beating me. It was just in punishment at first, for when I misbehaved. But then it got worse, all I had to do was look at him wrong, say something he didn’t agree with, or just show that I had a brain of my own and I got a nice firm beating. And it wasn’t just on the rear like most kids got, I got mine all over. Dislocated shoulders, broken ribs, I was just lucky mum was good with healing spells; else I’d have been a lot worse off.

I don't suppose my sister or even my brother ever really knew much about this. As far as I know, once I move out (which will basically be the day I graduate Hogwarts) he won’t start hitting her, and I don’t think he hits my brother at all... I guess they just thought the black eyes came from rough sex? I don't know what went on in their heads, never really bothered to find out. My therapist thinks my constant attempt to get girls is due to being abused by my father. That's all fine and dandy of him to think, but I really think it's just I don't use the head with a brain to lead my actions.

But then, I'm not a professional."

Father: Blaise Zabini
Mother: Padma Patil
Siblings: [M] ____ Zabini : 7th Year, Unknown
[M] ____ Zabini : 4th Year, Unknown


Pet: Marvin the Mouse Mauler (spotted owl)
Broom: Comet 5000
Wand: 14” Ebony, Runespoor Fang
Boggart: Father

Member Title: No, Nobody Wants Him

Role-Playing Sample:
  • Ostara sat at a table, feeling more alone than ever. The people surrounding her were a mass of blank faces she could barely recognize. Were some of these the same people she went to school with for six years? Some of them know, but the lesser years weren’t the ones she was counting. Older students flitted about, looking annoyed at everyone just as Ostara and her year did to the ones younger than them. Her eyes avoided meeting any of the Seventh Years, and she instead opted for trying to make the life changing decision. Should she get up and go to the buffet, or stay seated and wallow in misery? Wallowing seemed nice until a few squeals nearby made her ears bleed. Some poor bloke had asked his chit to go steady with him and she had more than eagerly agreed. Rolling her eyes, the cynical blond Slytherin stood from her seat and sauntered to the buffet.

    Knocking elbows with people was inevitable as she reached into the food with provided tongs and piled it onto her plate. She could shovel all this dirt in her mouth and keep her boyish figure. That was not something she was horribly excited about, but it made the guilt of using comfort food less than it would’ve been otherwise. Balancing her salad, pasta, and garlic bread on her plate, Ostara decided to save the fruit for later and returned the spot she’d been sitting at earlier. Her hair wasn’t styled out of the ordinary, her make up done like she usually kept it, and the only thing out of place was her blasted dress. She’d trade it in for the uniform in a second if she hadn’t been sent into a guilt trip to do this by her mother. Somehow, by the end of the night, she needed to force some people to stand with her and have someone else take the pictures so she could owl them to her mother under pretense that Ostara did have a social life.

    Picking at her food a pang of sadness ran through her as girls giggled and tried to pull their dates off to dance or some such thing. Ostara, the girl who’d never been kissed, never been asked out, never gone on a date for she refuses to ask someone out, just sat there, longing to have someone of her very own to snog. Every blasted year, she kept telling herself, next year, next Valentine’s I’ll make sure I get a date. I’ll be happy, I’ll smile, laugh, and I’ll get that goodnight kiss if it kills me. And so far…zip. Zilch, nada, nothing was coming to her on this Valentine’s day and it was safe to say she was quite bitter about the whole thing.

    Finishing the food in front of her, she popped one of the Muggle Altoids she had her mother ship her every so often, they worked miracles on the breath. Quickly she piled her favourite types of fruit in her bowl, planning on taking them back to the table, scarfing them down, and getting out of there. Forget dessert, she’d rather not keep sitting there looking like an idiot. Soon she would find some random sixth year she should know by now and get them to snap a few pictures of her. If they asked for what, she would be honest, her mother wanted pictures. Of course, that would be topped off with a lie that a more chipper Ostara would say. Something along the lines of she wanted a few out of the way in case she got distracted later and forgot to take them. Then she’d wait until no one was watching and run off back into the castle, throw herself in the dorm and probably have a nice right cry before the girls who weren’t dateless wonders showed up.

    Sounded almost fun really…

    Time came to execute said plan and Ostara grew nervous. She had her pictures, her camera in the small bag identical to the insufferable dress she was stuffed in, and yet she couldn’t go. Someone who looked familiar had their eyes on her, and she didn’t want to be seen leaving, not before dessert at least. However, she especially didn’t want to be seen without a date. Her eyes darted to the castle and to this stranger that she felt she should know. Sighing and hating her sudden need for human socialization, Ostara abandoned the plan and sauntered up to them, trying not to look lonely. She avoided meeting their gaze by focusing on the nose. It was easier and she wouldn’t feel like every lie she told would be suddenly transparent. Forcing herself to have a fake smile plastered onto her face, she had finally fought her way through the thronging masses congregating on the front lawn.

    “Hello,” she said in a voice that did not sound like her own…far too happy and normal to be hers. Yes, her voice was deeper, more dismal and filled with the knowing despair that eventually life would cease to exist as she knew it and she’d be one of the normal people. Just adding to the body count of the world. “Happy Corporate Love Day, hope your enjoying the celebration of the deaths in the St. Valentine’s Massacre.” Her head tilted to the side and a real smile took the place of the fake one. She loved shoving this information out at people. Most kids her age didn’t realize that they were celebrating an anniversary for death. And call her crazy, but Ostara felt it was her mission…no, her duty to inform everyone of the atrocity that had happened in the past. In any case, the semi-familiar stranger would probably run from her as fast as possible, Ostara was willing to bet it would be magic induced speed on top of it.
PERSONAL
Name: Taylor C
Your Age: 17
Other Characters: Rhoswen Weasley
Contact Information: PM is best
How Did You Find Us?: been over this
Role-Playing Experience: done this too
Miscellaneous/Other:
</span> -edit-

Yay, accepted, =).
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