Blackmere Academy~Year 1

[˩ady Ǥamzee]

Misty opened up the driver side door and reached under the seat, when she pulled her hand back, Jonas' fangs were embedded in her hand. "Ouch Jonas!" She giggled playfully and the snake released her and slithered up under the sleeve on her hoodie. Her eyes traveled over to Riley, wondering what he had to think about the display. "I told you be won't bite anyone but me." She absent mindedly ran her tongue against her snake bite piercings and showed him the twin bite marks on her hand.

[Wildmagic_warrior]

Thomas Othello Sundry

The doors of the auditorium opened, and someone stepped through. Thomas turned his head to look, but the doors shut and the footsteps receded. He made a hmm sound in the back of his throat, wondering whether or not he should find out who else had a mind to visit this place in the dead of night. Then he realized that they had probably come here for the same reason he had; to be alone. That being the case, the young man stayed where he was, deciding instead to sit down on the stage's steps. If the person who had come in wanted to talk, they would do so on their own.

Thomas's mind wandered idly, looking for something to alight upon. Then he looked down at himself and noticed the way he was sitting. Legs apart, hands braced on knees. Confident. Relaxed. Very canine. How had that occurred? Normally he was more apt to be felinistic than anything else. He sat like a cat, moved like a cat. Not a dog, so where had this confident stature come from?

Inhale. Exhale. Think. Remember.

Second grade. Pushed down the stairs by Max. Alex laughed.

Thomas sat straighter, leaning back a bit. He closed his eyes.

Third grade. On the roof with a book and Meela. What book? Dealing With Dragons. Good writing style. Main character? The princess Cimorene. The dragon Kazul. Ending? Kazul becomes king of dragons. First book in a four-part series. Ever read the others? No.

Thomas lifted his hands from his knees and set them on either side of himself instead. His hair began to fade from a dark brown, the color of brackish water, to a light gold hue.

Fourth grade. Meela died. Kidney failure. Buried her in the back yard underneath the dogwood tree. Cried. Alex laughed. Max laughed. Mom and father not present.

Thomas's knees came together and his posture corrected itself. His nose straightened out and his eyebrows thinned. His face took on a more angular shape; opting for smaller lips and a sharper, less squared chin. The young man opened his eyes, then blinked. He had known something was wrong, and now he knew what it was. He hadn't left character properly. He had still been holding onto traces of Orlando and Duke Frederick from As You Like It, Charlie Lee from Radium Girls and Lazar Wolf from Fiddler on the Roof. Now, though, he felt like himself again. He touched his nose and ears to make sure they were the correct shape, then looked at his arms. All of the freckles were in their proper places.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Thomas stood up. For him, leaving character had the same effect as visiting a confessional had for people of certain religions. It allowed him to let go of his troubles and be himself again, quite literally in this case. And, now that he did not have someone else's motives controlling his actions, he could get a proper night's sleep. Finally.

[paola .]

:Drew Blackwell:

Drew followed the car until it pulled into a bar, A bar? really? well this should be fun. she decided to go down a dark alley nearby where she found a drunk and totally unconcious women wearing short shorts, flip-flops, and a white tanktop with a red flannel long sleeve shirt you've got to be kidding me. ugh well its better than nothing... So Drew with disgust plastered on her face, un-dressed the woman and changed back into her human form exhausted. She dressed quickly and fixed her golden hair disgusted by the 'thing ' she was wearing and santured out of the alley. As she headed for the bar, she seduced a young collage boy who was already partially drunk and decided What better reason to be at the bar right? and with her gentle and graceful stride she headed into the bar.

[Wildmagic_warrior]

❂ Christopher Wilson ❂

✣ Gᴇᴛ Tᴏ Kɴᴏᴡ Mᴇ ✣

Name; Christopher "Chris" Wilson.
Age; Sixteen.
Gender; Male.

✣ Aᴛ Fɪʀsᴛ Gʟɪᴍᴘsᴇ ✣

Height; Five feet, ten inches.
Weight; One hundred and ninety-two pounds.
Hair Color; Dark brown.
Eye Color; Muddy hazel.
Scars/Tattoos/Piercings/Other; N/A

✣ Dɪɢɢɪɴɢ Dᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ✣

Personality;
Christopher is a coward, and he'd be the first to admit it. He's scared of snakes and dogs and loud noises and the dark and thunderstorms and spiders. He's scared of shadowy places and shadowy people and he's been known to faint when speaking in front of crowds. Blackmere is not where he belongs, and everyone there knows it full well.

Christopher would much prefer a quiet library to just about anywhere else, unless that anywhere else was a concert hall or auditorium. He loves the arts but cannot participate, because he cannot sing, act or play an instrument. Instead he is forced to sit and watch, but this is better than nothing and he enjoys it very much.

Chris is a collector of knowledge both useful and obscure, and has a great many more books than he knows what to do with. Most of them are piled around his bed or underneath it. He tries to keep his things away from his roomate's side of the dorm, mostly because Nicholas scares him. So gloomy and quiet, with a steel trap mind and a sadistic sense of humor. It's worrying when someone so clever has the potential to be so cruel. Chris doesn't spend much time in his dorm, that's for certain.

As one last note, Christopher is overweight. Not by much, but it is noticeable. He won't be winning any awards for sprinting any time soon, at least. His weight shames him, makes him stick out more than he wants to. It's embarrassing, really, and not at all pleasant to deal with on top of everything else. On top of his cowardice, I mean, and his shy nerdiness, and the fact that he doesn't do well with people of any kind, much less those he doesn't know.

History;
Christopher Wilson was born to Mary and Charles Wilson. He has one sister, two years his younger. When he was little, his parents made a steady income and there was never want for anything. He had a nice life, a fine life. Emphasis on the past tense.

When he was in sixth grade, Christopher's power manifested itself. He had to be excused from school regularly after that, and his friends began to move on without him. Chris began spending less time in public- just in case- and more time indoors. He loved the library especially, because it was so big and quiet. A small kid like Chris could get lost quite easily among all those shelves, stacked to the ceiling with book after book. Because he didn't walk around as much as he used to, didn't go as many places as he used to, Chris began to gain weight.

It was at this time, around eight grade, that the teasing began. It was little things at first, but then it got worse. People called him fat right to his face, they pushed him here, shoved him there, knocked his binder onto the ground. There was nothing he could do about it.

Now, there is a saying; "When faced with adversity, man becomes clever or he becomes afraid." Christopher became afraid. His cowardice seemed to know no bounds; he even seemed to fear the outdoors. He hated school, hated his peers, hated everything.

Then he got to high school. Things got better. His life was looking up. And then... it happened. The big slip, he calls it in his head. His power got out of control, right there in front of everyone. He was fifteen years old. Before this, his parents and sister had known about his power, but they had kept it under wraps. Now the secret was out, though, and something had to be done. There was a place, an academy called Blackmere, for kids with powers. Chris knew that he wouldn't fit in, but what else could he do? So he went, along with a suitcase and two of his favorite books. He hasn't been home since, but his book collection has grown exponentially.

Likes;
-Libraries.
-Reading.
-Sunshine.
-Orange soda.
-Action movies.
-Museums.

Dislikes;
-Snakes, spiders, thunderstorms, the dark, horror movies, public speaking, big dogs.
-Being teased, especially for his weight.
-His weight.
-Dusty places.
-Nicholas Danforth, but it isn't so much hate as fear.

Other; N/A

✣ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ✣

Power;
Alright, here it is. The nasty truth. The monster inside. The evil. The cause of the big slip that got him sent away from home.
Christopher Wilson has magical sneezes.
There you have it.
Oh, more information? Well, if you insist.
Whenever he sneezes, Christopher shapeshifts uncontrollably. It is always into an animal, but not always a big animal. Sometimes he becomes an insect, or an arachnid. Rats, squirrels, monkeys, you name it. He hasn't turned into a fish yet, but he hopes that when he does there will be somebody nearby to put him in a bowl of water. He pops back to normal after an hour or so. Sometimes, though, it takes longer. The big slip lasted two days. Two whole days. He's tried controlling his power, concentrating on certain animals when he feels a sneeze coming on, but it doesn't work. Also, if he sneezes while in his shapeshifted form, he doesn't turn human again. He just changes to something else. Dusty places are hell for him, which is one of the reasons he stays indoors so much.

Dorm; 3

Pets; N/A

Crush; N/A

Boyfriend/Girlfriend; N/A

[Wolfsabre]

❂ Riley Hawkins ❂
(Wildmagic. I love your characters. XD Magical sneezes, you just made me start laughing in the middle of a dead silent class XD Accepted!)
Riley didn't squirm nervously, nor turn his head in disgust when Jonas sank his sharp fangs into her flesh. Instead, he smiled, warily, but he was entertained. "Well, that's interesting...you'd think it would be the other way around..." he shook his head and looked back at the bar. "I should probably go back with the others, do you want to stay out here or come back with me?"

[Wolfsabre]

❂ Bryson Smith ❂

✣ Gᴇᴛ Tᴏ Kɴᴏᴡ Mᴇ ✣

Name; Bryson Smith
Age; 18
Gender; Male

✣ Aᴛ Fɪʀsᴛ Gʟɪᴍᴘsᴇ ✣

Height; 6'3
Weight; 182
Hair Color; Black
Eye Color; Brown
Scars/Tattoo's/Piercings/Other; Giant, muscley guy.

✣ Dɪɢɢɪɴɢ Dᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ✣

Personality; Bryson Smith is your typical bad boy. A smoker, a drugee, a drinker, he doesn't use a car as transportation but a loud, obnoxious Harley. He does whatever he can to make his outlook scary and badass, someone you wouldn't want to deal with.
If he gets into a fight with another guy, being the not-so-sharpest crayon in the box, he wouldn't use his words, but his fist. His temper is very short, like the fuse on dynamite, only a few seconds to react before he explodes. And when he does explode, often times people start bleeding.
He doesn't necessarily try and control his temper. He doesn't try anything at all, in fact. The only thing he really is passionate about is his bike, staying in shape and his addictions. He doesn't care about much else. He doesn't care about school, in class he'll be the one in the back of the class listening to music and flipping off the teacher behind her back.
He despises his power. While most of the Gifted love their power and adore it, Bryson has learned to hate it. He already hears his conscience in his head, yelling at him to choose between right and wrong. But to hear other thoughts, the thoughts of the dead...he hates it. He stays as far as he can away from graveyards, morgues, any place that houses people of the dead. And yet, it is when his power is active that he feels most at ease. Listening to the whispers of the dead, hearing their thoughts, their hatred, it makes him feel comfortable, at peace.
History; Bryson never knew his mother. His mother, Kathleen died when he was born, so during the first 10 years of his life, he lived with his father. His father always knew that Bryson was a freak. They never had enough money to have a real burial, so instead they just buried her outside their trailer.
Bryson was always near her grave. He never knew her, and yet he understood her. Whenever he came inside, Bryson would tell his father about conversations he and his mother had, hearing her whisper in his ear, hearing her voice. It was around this time that his father began to know that Bryson was a Gifted. He took action immediately, kicking Bryson out of the house when he was 11 in the center of the slums of Detroit, telling him to hit the road and he slammed the door. Bryson screamed outside the window for hours. No one came to him, no one helped him. Everyone knew it was best to just stay away.
Bryson knew he had to set out on his own, so that was what he did. He wandered the slums, picking at food from garbages, turning on people's hoses in the middle of the night and getting a quick drink. He never heard the whispers, and after a long time, a loneliness began to settle in his heart. He lived on the streets for five years, and he was 16 when the Black Dawgs found him.
An entirely african-american gang, they found him and nearly beat him to death in the middle of the night. When Bryson woke up, he was tied up and gagged. They gave him a choice. Join their gang, or die. Obviously, Bryson didn't have anything to lose. He was already wanted, so he agreed. And so began his life of crime, stealing tv's, shooting at other gang members for territory, picking on the weak. Bryson refused to kill. He would shoot at the legs, or the arms, but never killing. It was around this time that he was chased out. He ran, far away from Detroit and eventually settled in Peshtigo, where he continues his crime and tries to make a living.
Likes; Drinking, his bike, exercising
Dislikes; Smart people, the dead, working
Other; ***

✣ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ✣

Power; Necromancy
Dorm; 4
Pets; ***
Crush; ***
Boyfriend/Girlfriend; ***

[solo]

((Magical sneezes! xD
Also, Bryson looks like a pretty sweet character, wolf I have a feeling that he and Danny will not get along, haha
And just a thought. Danny was originally 15 but I made him 16 to be closer to the other character's age. I'm wondering if I should keep him 16? He looks and acts more like a 15 year but I didn't want him to stick out too much or something...))

Danny Fonzarelli
The balcony of the auditorium was, indeed, not exciting. Danny thought for a moment how it would be a nice place to go if he wanted to be alone, then turned on his heels to go... somewhere. But not before he caught a glimpse of the person on the stage, whose facial features and hair color seemed to be moving. Danny did a double take before reminding himself that he was at Blackmere. Morphing is probably that guy's power. Cooler than mine. Huh. As he walked down the staircase, he pulled shadows from the dark nooks and crannies and whipped them around for fun. He flipped his palm over a little too jerkily, sending a tendril-like shadow lashing across his legs.
"SH*T!"
Danny fell down the stairs, smacking into the side of the staircase, managing to catch the railing before he went tumbling all the way down. He looked around quickly, knowing that only the person on the stage might have heard or seen him, yet still embarrassed about his stupidity. Seething silently, he flicked the shadows away from him and headed for the door. In the light of the hallway, he rolled up his jeans to assess his damage. Both of his shins were black and blue. Greeeeeeeat. I am an idiot. I'm going to make a fool of myself in class. I'd bet everyone else here knows how to control their powers twice as much as I do.
He sighed. He was getting kind of tired. Might as well get back to bed. Well, wasn't that adventure thrilling.
Danny half wished he'd gone with Jacob, but decided against it. It was still pouring, and besides, none of those people liked him anyways.

[Wolfsabre]

(Haha, yeeah they're gonna be greeat friends. And I think you should have him be 16, but still act like a 15 year old XD And also, I miight end up going on a character creation spree...so if 5 characters end up originating out of no where don't get mad at me o.o)

[Wildmagic_warrior]

Thomas Othello Sundry.

"[censored]!"

The cry rang out against the walls of the auditorium, jarring Thomas from his relaxed state. His head snapped around and his body followed; the young man took two steps towards the edge of the stage before stopping dead in his tracks. There had been thudding, and crashing; would somebody really come into the auditorium at night just to break things? And if they had, was he all that anxious to meet them? Closing his hands into fists, Thomas steeled his not altogether meager courage and strode down the steps of the stage. This was his auditorium, his friend, his home, a room that listened better than any living thing and never mocked him for what he was. Vandals were not permitted here, and he was about to show the break-and-enterer why not.

As he walked, Thomas lengthened his stride and allowed himself to fall into character. He needed someone tough, someone strong, someone experienced. He sacrificed nearly six inches of height in the process, but it was worth it. Nobody knew the law like Samuel Vimes of the night watch. Thomas's clothing changed, going from jeans and a t-shirt to plate armor and a helmet. A rusty sword was strapped to his left hip and his boots were falling to pieces, but he still cut an imposing figure.

Rounding the corner, the young man drew his blade and was in the process of crying out "Who goes there?!" when he saw the figure standing near the door at the bottom of the stairs. With a sigh, he dropped out of character. The rusty sword vanished from his hand, his armor faded from sight and returned him to his normal clothing. He recognized the intruder; the boy was a student here at Blackmere. That didn't mean that he wasn't set on vandalizing the place, of course, but he would have had tools of the trade with him if he was. Spray-paint, or a crowbar, or something.

"Danny Fonzarelli, isn't it?" inquired Thomas, stepping forwards and waving a hand to try and clear the darkness that wafted through the air like mist. The other boy must have conjured it, but he seemed to have lost his hold on the shadows when he fell. "I thought you were breaking in, but it looks like the only thing you've broken is yourself." He gestured with one hand in the vague direction of the boy's legs, which were already bruising from the fall. "What were you doing here? I thought I was the only person strange enough to visit the auditorium this late; normally I have the place all to myself."

[solo]

((I can't get it out of my head that Thomas has a cool British accent))

Danny Fonzarelli
Danny leaned against the door slightly, a puzzled look on his face. He could hear what sounded like the scraping of metal... and it was getting louder. His gaze snapped towards the source of the noise just as a figure appeared at the top of the stairway. Fight-or-flight instincts shot through his bloodstream.
"Danny Fonzarelli, isn't it?"
His tense shoulders relaxed a little when he recognized the tall 19-year old with dirty-blond hair. Danny had seen him around some and he didn't seem to be mean to the others, though he couldn't remember if he'd ever actually spoken to the guy. Probably my own fault. Haven't talked to hardly anyone, really.
The teenager deftly pulled the hazy darkness back to where it came from. It was making him cold. He let his jeans cover his freshly bruised shins and straightened up, wincing, "Um, yeah." he paused awkwardly, "I'm really bad with names... are you Tom? Sorry for sneaking around..." a half embarrassed smirk flickered across his face, "I fell, if it isn't obvious. I wasn't really doing anything particular." Not to sound suspicious at all. "Just looking around the place... guess I'm strange enough."
Once again, Danny noted how much he hated his slight Brooklyn accent. No matter where he went, he'd always be stamped with New York, and most could tell where he was from just by hearing him speak. He'd rather forget Brooklyn altogether. Tom, Tim, whats-his-face seemed to speak eloquently in comparison. Oh, well. nobody cares about that but me.