personality

Positive Traits: Adaptable, decisive, dependable, loyal to his closest, punctual.



Negative Traits: Envious, calculating & devious, thievish.



Quirks and Habits:

He hand-stitches hidden pockets into his clothing. Anything that can hide a pocket has a pocket. These pockets usually contain fake passports or other things Pascal needs for his line of work.



He has a little pouch where he puts one fifth of any money he receives, and he spends this money specifically to go and see the newest plays in London’s muggle theaters.



He bites his fingers when he’s very nervous. Not his nails, fingers. Usually the space between the knuckle and the first joint of the index finger of his right hand. It is a way to cause pain and let him focus on something else without actually hurting himself.



He has a talent for replicating accents, which he does often, not only because he has to when pretending to be someone else, but just because it’s a neat party trick. Not that a werewolf like him goes to a lot of parties.





Likes: Theater, muggle rock music, Verandi, living in the city, spy movies.



Dislikes: Introspection, Tyr Greyback, The Ministry, hunting animals.



Boggart: His own dead body.



Mirror of Erised: Himself with Verandi Farley by his side, and two children.



Patronus: forest polecat

history

Pascal Tristan Snyder. It sounds like a strange name, doesn’t it? No sane parent would ever name their child something so pompous, right? Especially when said kid comes from a humble background, and spends the first decade of his life just wanting to fit in, because there is something off about him.



You’d be right to doubt it. Because that isn’t the name on his birth certificate, nor is it the name the Headmistress called out on the 1st September of his first year at Hogwarts. It wasn’t the name of the Slytherin that never stood out in the crowd. Nobody probably remembers that name, and Pascal wouldn’t go out of his way to remind you.



Why did he change his name? You see, Pascal was an orphan. He never had an adoptive family. He never knew his birth parents. His birth name meant absolutely nothing to him. So, once he graduated and got away from everyone who thought they knew him, he reinvented himself.



He joined a muggle theatre school, wishing to fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming an actor. All would have been great, if he wasn’t overshadowed by the other rising star of his school. The other man was always just a little bit better at everything, and soon enough Pascal was boiling in his own envy.



And then he remembered that he was a wizard.



The star of the show begun to forget his lines, miss his classes and didn’t show up for plays. His role was given to Pascal, and the young man thrived. Once though, Pascal went a little too far. He had decided to get rid of his competitor completely, and, during an excursion to Scotland, when their bus had stopped at a campsite in a National Park for the night, he lead his rival into the woods.



Instead of offing him with a spell, both of them fell victim to wolves. As it turned out, they weren’t just any wolves -- they were werewolves. He woke up in a campsite much less comfortable than the muggle cabins he was supposed to sleep in. A woman was patching up his wounds. Her name was Verandi.



He’s been with the Trossach’s for 5 years now, and he’s developed a strange desire for Verandi. Is it Stockholm syndrome? Does he really love her? Even after all this time, he still doesn’t know. It doesn’t really matter, as he’d follow her through fire no matter what.

roleplayer

RP Alias: Leo Sorrel

Pronouns: He/Him

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Other Characters: RICHARD LINWOOD , WOLFGANG KALLENBACH , ASKOLD PANIN ,IVAN KAREV , @seanokeeffe , RODRIK BELANGER , @vaughnbelanger , JĀNIS SMILTIŅŠ , @ezekielensor , LARS SUNDBY

Roleplay example:

Goosebumps ran across Askold's skin as Zoe accepted his invitation. The man started to feel just as light as the airy notes of the harp, his heart trembling in excitement along with the rhythm of the strings.

His eyes widened in surprise when, instead of standing across from him so that they could get in position, Zoe left no space between them at all. He looked downwards, into those bright blue eyes. Is the ocean around Australia just as blue? I'd love to see it for myself one day. His eyes trailed down her features -- her cheeks were pink, like not yet ripe strawberries, and her lips, Oh God, those lips, they were mere inches away from his own. For a few seconds Askold couldn't find it in himself to even answer. He just wanted to look at her, forever.

But the hand that was sneaking up, over his shirt, up to his neck, soft fingers grazing against his skin, wrapping around to the back of his neck -- they brought him back to Earth.

By now, the harp had disappeared, replaced by the 1-2-3-4 of the strings, brass and a playful flute. "I could," he mumbled, his voice strangely quiet, "I could teach you, it's not that complicated." The hand that had been behind his back now was wrapped around her waist, his other hand was sliding down her arm, reaching her shoulder--