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Boot, Damien; Ravenclaw Fifth Year
Topic Started: Aug 3 2006, 08:26 AM (248 Views)
Damien Boot
Member Avatar
Living in my [ g l a s s ] house
Ravenclaw Student
CHARACTER DOCUMENTATION
Character Name: Damien Michael Boot
Character Nickname: Dami (some Hufflepuff first year called him this and it stuck, much to his chagrin)
Character Age: 15
Character Year: 5th
House/Alumni: Oh, I don’t know, just put him anywhere –cough- Ravenclaw
–cough-

Physical Appearance:

Damien gives off the distinct impression of someone who isn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. He hates family reunions because that always gives his nosy aunts license to go “Daphne, have you been feeding your son? Why he’s nothing but skin and bones!” He’ll be the first one to admit that he isn’t the most muscular guy on the block. Scrawny and gangly, he’s pretty used to having people ask if he’s malnourished or anorexic. He isn’t, in case you were wondering. But despite what others may assume, his thin physique doesn’t make him a weakling. Underneath those flesh-colored sticks that he calls “arms and legs”, lies a sort of wiry muscle that proves that he can still hold his own in a fight.

According to Damien, he has the “most girly, annoying, stupid and any-other-adjective-you-can-think-of-that-doesn’t-relate-to-nice” hair you can imagine. He once described it as “what would happen if Harry Potter ever got his hair caught in a vacuum cleaner”. He’s given up on ever doing anything with it because it’s entirely hopeless. Framing his face with dark, jagged locks, it curls a bit at the ends, falling exactly at the juncture where his collarbone meets his shoulders. His mother has been persistently nagging him to get a haircut but he honestly can’t seem to find the time. Besides, it provides a nice barrier from the sun.

Despite the many jabs at his sanity, Damien still claims that if he had to choose a favorite body part, it’d be his hands. Long, slender and a bit worn and calloused from plucking at guitar strings, they are the sort of hands that would leave a piano teacher shedding tears of joy. The rest of Damien’s housemates don’t seem to share his sentiment, however, choosing instead to call his hands “girly”and “effeminate”. Which doesn’t exactly help Terry, who is desperately trying to break away from his “pretty boy” image.

If it were left up to the female population to decide which one of Damien’s attributes is the most attractive, they’d answer with an earnest “His eyes, duh!” Icy blue and decidedly piercing, they’re the sort of eyes that clichéd poems about clear skies, lakes laced with winter and drowning in pools describe about. Damien doesn’t have any idea what the big deal is though. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even have eyes. Or a body. He’d just be a pair of disembodied hands. Which is probably why God was given the job of creating Damien and not himself.


Personality and Traits:

Imagine you’re walking down a random corridor in the West Tower. You’re whistling merrily to yourself because you’ve just completed your Potions homework, meaning you’ve got about a half an hour or so to waste. You pass the Ravenclaw common room entrance. Suddenly, a voice reaches your ears. You pause in your steps and listen harder. It’s a pleasant voice, melodic and soothing and crooning in dulcet tones. You’re enchanted. You’re hypnotized. You must find the identity of the singer or you’ll surely perish from curiosity.

Now, if you’re not a Ravenclaw and don’t know the password, this is as far as you will go. Sorry bucko, but rules are rules. You’ll just have to live through the rest of your life, never knowing who that amazing voice belonged to. Yeah, I know. Have fun in therapy.

Now, if you are a Ravenclaw, congratulations. Whisper it, please. Don’t want any shifty characters getting into your dorm. The door swings open and you’re stepping into the common room, eyes scanning the area for any sign of an angel playing the guitar.

Instead, you spot a figure curled up in a squashy armchair. Squinting, you check to see who it is. It’s a boy. He’s currently got his legs tucked up under him, hunched over his guitar and comfortably leaning against the headrest. His eyes are hooded and his bangs cover about half of his face. But you don’t really notice those details because you’re too busy getting drunk on the lyrics spilling out of his mouth. You’ve never really seen pure, raw talent before but if there ever was a person who had it, it would be that scrawny boy huddled in the corner.


It’s all about music when it comes to Damien. Music, music, music. Have you ever watched one of those clichéd rags-to-riches films where the protagonist starts out playing guitar in his basement and when an agent offers him fame and fortune, he replies with “I don’t care about the money. I just care about my songs.” That’s Damien in a nutshell. If it were up to him, he’d poof himself into a cottage in the woods, where he’d write songs every day and sing them to the wilderness. Just him and his blasted hands. He desperately doesn’t want to be thought of as the “soulful, sensitive musician” but that stereotype seems to paste itself on his forehead. He can’t go anywhere without a girl sighing “God, I bet he’s so SWEET and THOUGHTFUL.” He doesn’t know where there’s a rule that says every guy with a guitar pick automatically becomes an expert on women’s feelings. Because he’s absolutely clueless when it comes to the other gender.

Damien is extremely inexperienced in relationships for a boy of his talent and good-looks because he is hopelessly slow on the uptake. In fifth year, there was a girl who had this huge crush on him, that Damien liked well enough and even considered asking out (not that he ever would of course - that would be the ultimate awkward position). By the time he eventually twigged that she liked him back, she was already going out with someone else.

He was relieved if anything. Typical.

Damien can be awfully considerate when he wants to but the reason for his kindness isn’t as benevolent as some people would hope. You see, Damien is absolute pants when it comes to uncomfortable situations. If there’s even a drop awkwardness or tension between him and someone else, he’ll bend over backwards to either distance himself from said person or try to stop the source of the anxiety. If you start crying around him, Damien’s willing to give you his entire savings account if it’ll get you to stop crying. Tears give him indigestion. He’s also not that fine-tuned in the art of receiving compliments. Flattery might get you anywhere but it won’t get you into a close friendship with Damien. If you start dishing out praise to him, he’ll immediately start blushing like mad and try to change the subject. He doesn’t want people to give him compliments because he doesn’t believe they’re true. He believes that if he acts humble and denies the compliments, then it’ll stop girls from giving them to him. To his chagrin, being humble just makes girls want to praise him more.

Despite him being absolutely hopeless, Damien is actually quite intelligent if you’re willing to get past the blushing and mumbling and strange hand fetish. He places the same amount of dedication in his schoolwork as he does for his music. He has the uncanny ability to focus all of his attention on one specific thing and not get hindered by procrastination like the rest of us lowly beings. He’s a surprisingly hardworking individual. When he’s not busy writing heartfelt songs about unrequited love, he’s got his nose buried between pages 58 and 57 of Advanced Guide to Spells , brushing up on his invisibility charm.

If you’re not a guitar or a particularly interesting Transfiguration textbook, good luck on getting Damien’s attention. He’s a dreamer at heart and always seems to be preoccupied with his own thoughts. In classes, he’ll usually have that distinct, faraway expression in his eyes that mean he’s off somewhere where no one else can touch him. While everyone else is stressing about the Dark Lord’s imminent return and the death of the Minister of Magic, Damien’s busy in his own world, where he can write songs and sing them at the top of his lungs and there will be no one there to hear and criticize him. But that doesn’t mean he’s in complete denial over what’s happening in the wizarding world. He’s not one of those people who responds to any mention of Voldemort by covering his ears and screaming “LA-LA-LA-I-CAN’T-HEAR-YOU!” However, he usually finds the drama of politics and societal mayhem to be too distracting from his music or schoolwork for him to place a lot of care into it.


Background/Family History:

If you’re wondering why Damien has such a hard time with women, look no further than his parents. If ANY guy saw how much of a tight rein his mother kept on his father, Terry, he’d be terrified of females as well. It’s pretty obvious who’s the boss in his parents’ relationship. While Terry may be the one who brings home the bacon, it’s Daphne who makes most of the decisions in the house. Controlling and a busybody at heart, the former Slytherin always has to make sure she’s involved in every aspect of her family’s life. When Daphne discovered Damien’s dreams of becoming a musician, she went on a long rant about how he was throwing away his future to live as a street entertainer. With that vote of confidence from his mother, Damien turned to his father, Terry, for support.

To Damien’s complete surprise, Daphne was finally persuaded to allow her son’s pursuit in music. How did Terry manage it? To tell the truth, while Terry may seem completely whipped in regards to Daphne, the relationship between the two of them is more complex than that. If Terry truly hated the way Daphne treated him but allowed her anyway, then it would be more of a “boss/servant” type of marriage. However, Terry seemed to have no trouble taking orders from Daphne. In fact, he didn’t seem to mind at all. He claimed that he loved his wife and if that meant allowing her to take control every once and a while, then he had no problems with it. Only when he felt particularly strong about an issue would he finally put his foot down. Terry possessed a sort of quiet strength, a subtle power that only presented itself when he felt it was needed. Damien admired his father’s calm, neutral persona and eventually adapted that laidback quality.

That still didn’t mean Daphne wasn’t going to employ every method possible to influence her son’s life. As soon as he was old enough to stand upright, she brought him to every possible social gathering amongst purebloods. She explained this would help “culture him at an early stage”. She also instilled in him the basics of pureblood etiquette. Even now, Damien can’t exactly shake the habit of doing everything by his mother’s “lessons”. He always has to use a metal fork and knife to eat his food, he opens doors for women, and he has to refer to every single adult as “sir” or “ma’am”.


Father: Terry Boot
Mother: Daphne Greengrass
Siblings: Nonexistent

Pet: A spotted Beagle named Snoopy and a tawny barn owl named Eloise
Broom: Doesn’t own one.
Wand: 10 inches; Cedar; Dragon Heartstring
Boggart: Not sure; probably a hideous, obese woman crying and hitting on him at the same time

Member Title: Living in my [ g l a s s ] house

Role-Playing Sample:

Quote:
 
Lockhurst vs. Disembodied Janitorial Supplies was going badly for Ezekiel. Stumbling back onto the balls of his feet, he just barely managed to dodge a wild swing of the broom's handle that threatened to knock his jaw into orbit. Showing surprising reflexes, the Ravenclaw finally managed to get his hands on the broom and give it a sharp tug, tearing it out of Peeves' grasp. He was just about to tell him off when Molly raised her voice, the poltergeist showing no more respect for her reprimand than his.  It was always frustrating dealing with Peeves, the poltergeist's completely disregard and apparent immunity from Hogwarts' set of rules infuriating to every friend of law and order within the school's four walls. And Filch. He'd go under 'friend of law and order', but...I just don't want to call him a friend of anything. It seems wrong.

Bam.

Ezekiel turned around to find Peeves out the door, Molly standing with a surprised look on her face and the door itself rather firmly locked. Still, locks were no problem to a crafty wizard! A simple Alohomora charm would fix that right up! Reaching into his pocket, Ezekiel closed his hands around his wand, a slight frown appearing on his face as it seemed unusually...rough? As Peeves had slammed the door in their faces, they were left more or less without any light at all. Still, Ezekiel had been at this school for seven years, he knew how to find his wand in the dark, right?

Well, yeah. Except this wasn't his wand. Maybe the next generation of the Olivander family wasn't quite as renown as the previous, but he'd never known his wand to have knotholes. He was holding a twig of birch. Peeves had taken his wand.

Peeves had taken his wand!

"I, uh...I think he took my wand," Ezekiel managed, growing a little more uncomfortable with the situation every second. They were trapped. In the dark. Him wandless. Oh joy. Of course Peeves wasn't going to let them out. After the initial shock had begun to subside, the well-oiled gears of Ezekiel's head slowly begun to turn. He found solace in the calm, rational logic, reminding him that they'd most likely be stuck in here for some time, so they might as well make the best of the situation.

"Molly, I don't think he's going to let us out anytime soon," Ezekiel finally spoke up, raising his voice slightly to outdo the frantic banging of balled fist on wooden door. When Molly’s banging didn't cease, the Ravenclaw prefect took a step forward and moved to restrain her, his hands fumbling in the pitch-black air, one finally coming to rest. However, Molly's hands could impossibly be at waist-height, and last time he'd looked her arms wer-...

Oh.

Oh.

Ezekiel's hand left her bum as soon as his disheveled brain managed to put one and one together. Stepping back, he searched his panicked mind for something appropriately apologetic to say. Of course it hadn't been deliberate! That sort of thing could only lead to hanky-panky!

"I...I didn't mean to do that."
[/center]

PERSONAL
Name: Anna
Your Age: 16
Other Characters: None.
Contact Information: A PM will do.
How Did You Find Us?: Got it off Potterplay.
Role-Playing Experience: For about 2-3 years.
Miscellaneous/Other: Not at the moment.


Accepted! Welcomet to Reborn Darkness, ^^.
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