Post by wilfred theodore cain on Nov 19, 2012 8:24:29 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-image:URL(http://www.pixeden.com/media/k2/galleries/165/001-subtle-light-pattern-background-texture-vol5.jpg) ; border-left: 10px solid #1C161E; border-right: 10px solid #1C161E;] WILFRED THEODORE CAIN  full name: wilfred theodore cain ("will") canon or original: original age: eighteen year: seventh house: hufflepuff blood: muggle born wand: 14 3/4", dragon heartstring, oak patronus: golden retriever boggart: never knowing what he wants to do with his life and regretting not doing things. erised: will would love to just be sure of himself, knowing what he wants to do with his life, and having someone that he knows he actually cares about and who cares about him. birth place: clovelly, england ------------------------------------------------- wilfred theodore cain is the only child of theodore and elianna cain, two muggles, both in the advertising business, who are now divorced. they were once deeply in love, although their son doesn't remember that time because their relationship was torn apart when he was only four years old. theodore cain had a one-time fling with a young woman in his office and there was no way his wife could get past it, so they were divorced. their son, will, spent most of his childhood living with his mother in clovelly but spending occasional weekends with his father in london. having grown up with this situation, will didn't really mind it and began to find it normal. being close to both of his parents and knowing them very well, he can't imagine them every possibly being together and loving each other. probably partly due to his parents' separation, will is sort of disillusioned with the idea of love. deep down, he wants to be a romantic and to believe in happy endings. but in his experience, it doesn't seem to exist. his father remarried a few years back but seems absolutely miserable, constantly fighting with his younger wife, and his mother has been with man after man, never finding one that isn't an asshole. it was a relief for will, although also of course a shock, when he received his hogwarts acceptance letter and learned that he was a wizard. it explained how he never seemed to get injured during his childhood though, even though he was quite the daredevil. strange and confusing things had always seemed to happen around him, as with other young wizards born to muggle families. starting out at hogwarts, will was quite shy for the first few years. he was sorted into hufflepuff, which was no surprise considering his gentle demeanor and his huge heart, not to mention he's an extremely loyal friend. wilfred is incredibly compassionate and can't stand to see others hurt. in the last couple years, he has learned to get over his shyness and as a result has gained many more friends. he has had a couple girlfriends, but always ended them after not very long if the girl didn't first. he simply never feels like things will work out anyway, so he ends it before either of them are too involved. there's also the fact that he's just never really fancied them all that much, much to his dismay. sometimes he questions whether he's capable of love. wilfred tends to questions many aspects of his life, constantly worrying about what he's going to do after hogwarts and if someday he'll end up divorced like his parents, and on and on. |
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your alias: katie
a roleplay sample:
It wasn't at all displeasing when her shot of tequila came with a rather cute bartender. Zara gave him a quick, inconspicuous once-over as he was pouring her shot. No -- cute didn't really cover it -- ruggedly sexy seemed to pop into her mind as the proper way to describe him. His brief Irish accent, fake or not, didn't hurt either. I mean really, what girl didn't like an Irish accent, or for that matter, secretly wish some Gerard Butler-esque man would fall in love with her? (or was that just Zara? Whoops.) Cocking her head to one side unconsciously, Zara replied teasingly, "Well you do have tequila, don't you? Are you sure this is an Irish bar?" She grinned at him. It occurred to her that she didn't actually have the slightest clue whether or not Irish bars served tequila, since she'd never actually been to Ireland. Or did they just have Guinness and whiskey? That would be most unfortunate. Zara had nothing against whiskey, but tequila was kind of her drink.
Turns out the bartender's regular, accent-less voice wasn't bad either. It struck her as amusing that he assumed she was from somewhere else, although it was an easy mistake to make. She had virtually no trace of the local dialect/accent as many of those did who grew up here, because her parents weren't originally Hawaiian and many of her friends weren't either. And come to think of it, she had only been to Pot Of Gold maybe once in the past six months or so, and she was fairly certain he hadn't been working or she would have remembered him. Perhaps he hadn't been living here long? Or it was entirely possible he'd been living here for years; Honolulu wasn't exactly a small town. "Well, I haven't seen you around either, but something tells me you're the new kid on the block," Zara went out on a limb, smiling with her eyes but not with her mouth. "I'm from sunny Honolulu, born and raised!" she said blithely. Lifting her shot glass, she downed it quickly and then set the glass back down on the wooden countertop, sucking in a breath.
"Wait a minute, where's my lime?" Zara demanded, looking around. It was a little late for that, unfortunately. Damn it, she always forgot to ask for salt and a wedge of lime, somehow not remembering until after she'd taken the shot. Ah, well. Obviously she was used to the taste of straight tequila. Not that she was an alcoholic or anything, but when it came to hard alcohol, that's generally what Zara tended to drink. It just seemed to go down smoother than most anything else.
Zara followed the bartender's glance toward the group of happy drunken men singing away merrily. They were quite hard to ignore, but they didn't bother her. Wasn't the whole point of coming to a bar to get drunk and have a good time? She laughed. "Typical Irish men," she joked, even though she wasn't even sure any of those men were actually Irish. Oh well, everyone was Irish at Pot of Gold, right? Or everyone's Irish on St. Patty's Day? Something like that. Whatever.
Turns out the bartender's regular, accent-less voice wasn't bad either. It struck her as amusing that he assumed she was from somewhere else, although it was an easy mistake to make. She had virtually no trace of the local dialect/accent as many of those did who grew up here, because her parents weren't originally Hawaiian and many of her friends weren't either. And come to think of it, she had only been to Pot Of Gold maybe once in the past six months or so, and she was fairly certain he hadn't been working or she would have remembered him. Perhaps he hadn't been living here long? Or it was entirely possible he'd been living here for years; Honolulu wasn't exactly a small town. "Well, I haven't seen you around either, but something tells me you're the new kid on the block," Zara went out on a limb, smiling with her eyes but not with her mouth. "I'm from sunny Honolulu, born and raised!" she said blithely. Lifting her shot glass, she downed it quickly and then set the glass back down on the wooden countertop, sucking in a breath.
"Wait a minute, where's my lime?" Zara demanded, looking around. It was a little late for that, unfortunately. Damn it, she always forgot to ask for salt and a wedge of lime, somehow not remembering until after she'd taken the shot. Ah, well. Obviously she was used to the taste of straight tequila. Not that she was an alcoholic or anything, but when it came to hard alcohol, that's generally what Zara tended to drink. It just seemed to go down smoother than most anything else.
Zara followed the bartender's glance toward the group of happy drunken men singing away merrily. They were quite hard to ignore, but they didn't bother her. Wasn't the whole point of coming to a bar to get drunk and have a good time? She laughed. "Typical Irish men," she joked, even though she wasn't even sure any of those men were actually Irish. Oh well, everyone was Irish at Pot of Gold, right? Or everyone's Irish on St. Patty's Day? Something like that. Whatever.
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