Post by Pantera Tsua on Jun 18, 2009 16:12:47 GMT -5
B E H I N D THE M A G I C
[/center][/size]name
Ren!
age
17
experience
Uhh… 5 years, give or take a few.
J U S T YOUR W I T C H C R A F T
full name
Pantera Tsua
gender
Male.
age
Seventeen.
blood status
Pureblooded.
Preferred house
Slytherin.
year
6th year.
pb
Shiroyama Yuu - ‘Aoi’
A L L THE W A N D L O R E
likes
+ Cigarettes. (Smoking)
+ Rarities.
+ Sweets/Deserts.
+ Power.
+ Being difficult.
+ Rain.
+ Dangerous creatures.
+ Manipulating.
+ Pain.
+ Flamboyancy.
+ The Dark.
+ Himself.
+ The Dark Arts.
+ Herbology. (Poisons.)
dislikes
+ Children. ( Kids younger then him)
+ Being Restrained.
+ Work.
+ Failure.
+ Generally Everything.
+ Weakness.
+ Idiocy.
+ Heroes.
+ Boredom.
+ Muggles.
+ Being ignored.
strengths
+ Charm.
+ Intelligence.
+ Playing innocent.
+ Dark Arts.
+ Tolerance for pain.
weaknesses
+ A total lack of morals. ( And will do nearly anything for the right price.)
+ Power. (Will do anything for it.)
+ Boredom. (Makes him do brash, thoughtless things.)
+ Insubordination. (He’s stubborn and likes to do everything his way.)
quirks
+ He’s overly flamboyant. (Vain, perhaps.)
+ He’s a total flirt, and doesn’t distinguish at all between genders. (Bisexual)
+ Nearly everything that comes out of his mouth, is a total lie in some way or another.
personality
Generally it would depend on who you were, as to what sort of show Pan would put on; typically the male likes to act difficult, if not pretentious. He’ll smile and be tolerable enough during the day, depending on how well it’s treating him… but the male often has a spiteful streak running though his every action. Almost as if he lives, just to make everyone’s life and work as difficult as is humanly possible.
The male disapproves of nearly everything and he’ll let the majority of creatures know exactly what he thinks about them; Pan has no filter for such things and it often gets him intro trouble, course… he always finds a way to worm himself out of it, but that’s not the point. He’s a manipulator and more often then not, suffers from fits of boredom – which usually leads him into making his own fun; This is never a good thing, Pan’s version of fun is warped and cruel and more often then not, his fun ends tragically for everyone beside himself.
The young male is bearable on most days though, but that’s never the real Pan; he likes to adopt a flippant persona most of the time, smiling and joking but its only a form of ‘hunting’ for him; this persona is a camouflage, to get close to the sorts of irritating hopeful little kids Pan takes great pride in… what would we call it; leading to the slaughter? Every predator can do it, why not him?
Pan isn’t opposed to anything immoral or unfair; Pride is a hindrance, in order to take control one can’t be put off by the slightest detail and, the main thing as it should be; is the survival of one’s self. If you go round honouring the code and all that junk, chances are you’re going to die for no good reason at all…
Pan quite enjoys life, for the most part, but doesn’t feel it’s a necessity and often commits brash acts without much consideration for his body or the body of another, and its not like the concept of pain, or any normal threat will put him off – things like that only tend to spur him on in fact and become the inspiration for new moral low-points.
Pan has next to no concept of other peoples feelings and emotions, but he takes to guessing them, treating it like a game; one of which where hitting the most sensitive nerve means he’s the winner.
Seeing as Pan can’t even grasp emotions other then his own, the male also has no concept of personal space; he likes to touch, to feel, to unnerve and the best way to do that is through intimacy. He doesn’t distinguish between genders at all and treats them both the same, fully believing that they and a variety of others are all just stepping stones, or a means for some entertainment. Don’t get him wrong, Pan doesn’t hate or like anyone, he plays favourites… but there’s no real feeling for said favourite on his side of things.
Pan is the kind of person who will make up his mind about a person with one look and from that moment on, will be impossible to please
H I S T O R Y OF M A G I C
family members
Dante Tsua (Father) 48 – Marinez Tsua (Mother) 39
Marin (Sister) 20 – Juna (Sister) 20 – Neyla (Sister) 19
detailed history
Pantera born on December the 2nd, and his birth was greatly celebrated within the family. Finally there was a male successor to continue the Tsua family business. Of course, being a Pureblooded and well respected family, the Tsua come with a lot of historical baggage, they’re mainly known for their prestigious potions (Always of questionable use) and for their fantastic importation skills. The Tsua could smuggle in a Chinese Fireball without making even the slightest mistake and, as every ambitious male has found in the family; they have a certain eye for the rare and brilliant. There isn’t much the Tsua can’t get a hold of, but one should be cautious when striking a deal with such people.
There’s no good way to be killed, especially not if you can’t come up with the agreed payment.
But, I digress… Focusing more on young Pantera or ‘Pan’ himself; the male’s life has never been as sheltered as one might assume, from a young age the male has been shown every, immoral and black-hearted detail of his Family’s trade. Those sorts of things became like a second nature to Pan soon enough and he had no beef with anything, he didn’t seek to make everything that much brighter and sometimes even at the age of seven, he rathered that his father was too merciful.
Pantera has always been a bright child and he grew to embody the sort of things that went on behind the Tsua family’s closed doors, he was adept at manipulating and taunting those tender nerves, but even so, the male never decided to ride into rooms on his father’s coattails. He doesn’t flaunt the money he has and doesn’t think at all about the less privileged classes.
In Pan’s early teens, he started to show signs of feminine flamboyance, why wouldn’t he? It seemed only natural when he was surrounded by his sisters, coddled and fussed over – it didn’t help that Pantera was born with such endearing androgynous features either. The male would wear feminine attire, or things to show off his sleek near delicate looking figure – though, that wasn’t so say this sort of style didn’t suit him – he carried it quite naturally in fact and even managed to make it look relatively dark an intimidating.
His father fussed over his sexual orientation, of course… but Pan never bothered listening to his pressing comments about respect among other things. Pantera’s ignorance of his fathers advice led the two males into rather a dark patch and if the rumours are anything to go by, Pan is no longer going to be the heir of the Tsua family business. It hardly mattered to the young male, because he knew he could quite easily rip it from his father’s cold dead fingers when he was ready.
Of course, that depended on how he did at school.
Pantera got a number of invitations from various schools, but he’d heard about Hogwarts’s more recent history and had been rather intrigued, not because any of it was of any personal interest, but because it seemed like a place that wasn’t far from some sort of entertainment. It wouldn’t do to spend a number years somewhere suffering now would it?
Pan’s first year in Hogwarts had certainly been interesting, to say the least. The male had pretty much learnt more then the first year could offer him in his early life… and so he’d spent the time flirting with the teachers, making enemies and pretending to be friends with all sorts of people he didn’t hesitate to stab in the back later – when he found someone better, or more interesting.
This pretty much carried on for the next five years… only now Pan has created his own little black market business within the school, the male can get a hold of damn-near anything both naughty and nice children will want. Rare volumes of books for the Ravenclaw, valuables for the Slytherin’s, tricks and rumours for the Griffindor and toys or cakes for the Hufflepuff. Pantera has even been known to help the teachers out too… as his business is hardly a secret… just, impossible to eliminate.
Y O U R DARK S I D E
The surface of the water didn’t even ripple, casting a warped view of the world above their dark little realm. Colours bled into his view of the sky and the tall tips of trees poking here and there resembled nothing more then little wisps of black amongst an array of other colours, a smooth unbroken wave followed his movements as he skimmed the surface, appearing like some ghostly half-figure haunting the depths. Long silver hair spread out in the water as the male moved boredly, his pace was slow, or at least slow enough as not to disturb the surface he was so fixated on at this current moment. The male had a relatively feminine face; the slope of his cheeks to his chin was smooth and were it not for the lack of flamboyance and eloquence he probably could have been easily mistaken for female seeing as his eyes and damn-near all the features on his pale silver face were hidden.
The shape of his eyes, their hue and the manner of which his skin enhanced their so-called ‘enchanting’ light, was a mystery; it was hard to picture these features at all, in fact, as the male held his own without them. There was speculation – for those that had ever come across him- that he was blind, and hid some garish scar his mother had given him upon her death. There were also rumours that maybe his eyes gave him away, that he couldn’t charm whatever ill-intent was settled within them and so in order to play his warped games, chose not to let anyone see them. Course, these weren’t the only rumours… but he preferred these ones above all the other unimaginative pieces. A long black tail snaked through the water, though the twists in its seemingly bone-less frame were delayed a little each time it rippled, flicking the fish-like fans protruding from around about where the male’s hips should’ve been -were they not engulfed by hard diamond black scales- out to collect enough water to steer him cleverly from breaking the surface of the Neverending Lake. A streak of silver patterned the ‘underside’ of the Merman’s tail, thinning exactly like the serpentine structure did, until only black engulfed the sharp barb tipping its very end, settled amongst another pair of rudder-like fins.
The underside was nothing compared the structure of rest, but that was all hidden by the cold darkness of the deeper waters below him, despite what one might think, in its ominous vastness, this black cold gathered him in a motherly embrace, pressed against his back, toying with the delicate looking spined fins that followed the line of his back loyally. It almost felt like some invisible being was running her fingers across them, as well as the ghastly pale skin of his black, which was patterned with bruised bluish-greys and the hints of black where light tones pressed up against the skin and scales. The discolouration was especially noticeable on his chest, mostly where the three thick near-black lines of his gills were cut pointedly into his chest, neatly following the design of the cut before it. Stark white gashes marred the scales on his chest and tainted the skin a low grey, almost as if it had failed to fall away after dying.
He was bored.
A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips before the male flicked his tail awkwardly out of the water, sending a cloud of self-made rain to further distort the image of the world above the water. The Merman secretly prayed for rain on a daily basis; it felt more comfortable that way, but he wasn’t opposed to the world without it either and so drifted silently toward the bank, feeling the cold embrace slip from where it had brashly braced itself against him, as the sun-warmed shallows met the spines running down the center of his back, tugging at them until he was forced turn over, lest they dig themselves into the muddy banks.
Boredom had to be the drawback of his species, as there wasn’t a lot he could do about it; typically Mer-folk were weary of each other, they didn’t trust anyone and if there are any more then a couple of Mer-people around each other for more then a couple of hours, things got quite nasty – daylight façade be-damned. So, there really wasn’t anyone he could lather his boredom onto and leaving the water was more irritating then anything… there was never anything interesting enough for it and even if there was, it wasn’t like he would ever be on the guest-list and it wasn’t like he even knew very many places beyond this lake either.
The male breeched the surface pulling himself up in a groove in the bank, using a mixture between his inhumanely long fingers and the bunched, strong muscles riddled within his thick black tail to force himself up onto the land. Why not? If anyone walked past, surely they’d be curious – there weren’t many Mer-folk as warped as he was, especially not during the day, perhaps they’d confuse him for something more magnificent.
Another smirk tugged at his lips, but the expression was lacking without the rest of his features, of which had a thick coat of glistening silver hair wetly coating half of his face, droplets of water riddled the male’s glittering silver skin, which caught the light in a variety of ways, charging the scales with an infinite rainbow of colours. Water pooled between the larger scales, before the male’s large tail was led like a misplaced piece of equipment, half submerged within the lake. It had to be one of the most peculiar sights; to see a Merman lain on his stomach, mostly out of the water, with a large dark fan-like fin protruding from its back like a sail all the way down its tail, paired with the two fish-like fans pressed against the ground at his hips, which almost looked like they’d help with any movement, even on the land. Wet silver hair turned wavy as it began to dry in the air clinging the to male’s bright silver – blue tainted shoulders, face, back and the ground in front of him. He brought his slender arms up in front of his head, folding them over each other, leaning his slight chin against the cold smooth flesh.
”Drowning is not so pitiful
As the attempt to rise
Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man
Comes up to face the skies,
And then declines forever
To that abhorred abode,
Where hope and he part company --
For he is grasped of God.
The Maker's cordial visage,
However good to see,
Is shunned, we must admit it,
Like an adversity.”
The shape of his eyes, their hue and the manner of which his skin enhanced their so-called ‘enchanting’ light, was a mystery; it was hard to picture these features at all, in fact, as the male held his own without them. There was speculation – for those that had ever come across him- that he was blind, and hid some garish scar his mother had given him upon her death. There were also rumours that maybe his eyes gave him away, that he couldn’t charm whatever ill-intent was settled within them and so in order to play his warped games, chose not to let anyone see them. Course, these weren’t the only rumours… but he preferred these ones above all the other unimaginative pieces. A long black tail snaked through the water, though the twists in its seemingly bone-less frame were delayed a little each time it rippled, flicking the fish-like fans protruding from around about where the male’s hips should’ve been -were they not engulfed by hard diamond black scales- out to collect enough water to steer him cleverly from breaking the surface of the Neverending Lake. A streak of silver patterned the ‘underside’ of the Merman’s tail, thinning exactly like the serpentine structure did, until only black engulfed the sharp barb tipping its very end, settled amongst another pair of rudder-like fins.
The underside was nothing compared the structure of rest, but that was all hidden by the cold darkness of the deeper waters below him, despite what one might think, in its ominous vastness, this black cold gathered him in a motherly embrace, pressed against his back, toying with the delicate looking spined fins that followed the line of his back loyally. It almost felt like some invisible being was running her fingers across them, as well as the ghastly pale skin of his black, which was patterned with bruised bluish-greys and the hints of black where light tones pressed up against the skin and scales. The discolouration was especially noticeable on his chest, mostly where the three thick near-black lines of his gills were cut pointedly into his chest, neatly following the design of the cut before it. Stark white gashes marred the scales on his chest and tainted the skin a low grey, almost as if it had failed to fall away after dying.
He was bored.
A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips before the male flicked his tail awkwardly out of the water, sending a cloud of self-made rain to further distort the image of the world above the water. The Merman secretly prayed for rain on a daily basis; it felt more comfortable that way, but he wasn’t opposed to the world without it either and so drifted silently toward the bank, feeling the cold embrace slip from where it had brashly braced itself against him, as the sun-warmed shallows met the spines running down the center of his back, tugging at them until he was forced turn over, lest they dig themselves into the muddy banks.
Boredom had to be the drawback of his species, as there wasn’t a lot he could do about it; typically Mer-folk were weary of each other, they didn’t trust anyone and if there are any more then a couple of Mer-people around each other for more then a couple of hours, things got quite nasty – daylight façade be-damned. So, there really wasn’t anyone he could lather his boredom onto and leaving the water was more irritating then anything… there was never anything interesting enough for it and even if there was, it wasn’t like he would ever be on the guest-list and it wasn’t like he even knew very many places beyond this lake either.
The male breeched the surface pulling himself up in a groove in the bank, using a mixture between his inhumanely long fingers and the bunched, strong muscles riddled within his thick black tail to force himself up onto the land. Why not? If anyone walked past, surely they’d be curious – there weren’t many Mer-folk as warped as he was, especially not during the day, perhaps they’d confuse him for something more magnificent.
Another smirk tugged at his lips, but the expression was lacking without the rest of his features, of which had a thick coat of glistening silver hair wetly coating half of his face, droplets of water riddled the male’s glittering silver skin, which caught the light in a variety of ways, charging the scales with an infinite rainbow of colours. Water pooled between the larger scales, before the male’s large tail was led like a misplaced piece of equipment, half submerged within the lake. It had to be one of the most peculiar sights; to see a Merman lain on his stomach, mostly out of the water, with a large dark fan-like fin protruding from its back like a sail all the way down its tail, paired with the two fish-like fans pressed against the ground at his hips, which almost looked like they’d help with any movement, even on the land. Wet silver hair turned wavy as it began to dry in the air clinging the to male’s bright silver – blue tainted shoulders, face, back and the ground in front of him. He brought his slender arms up in front of his head, folding them over each other, leaning his slight chin against the cold smooth flesh.
”Drowning is not so pitiful
As the attempt to rise
Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man
Comes up to face the skies,
And then declines forever
To that abhorred abode,
Where hope and he part company --
For he is grasped of God.
The Maker's cordial visage,
However good to see,
Is shunned, we must admit it,
Like an adversity.”
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