Post by Merlin Hawke on Jun 2, 2012 3:57:13 GMT -5
User
Character
Merlin also loves humour; he finds that humour can alleviate the worst of moods and soften the hardest of blows, and, as a result, strives to include it in almost everything he does. Usually, his humour is done in such a manner that “hip” and “cool” people may be inclined to do nothing more than slap their palm to their face and groan in such a fashion, however, Merlin’s humour does not generally stop at the “bad pun” station; he also tells jokes and funny stories the more you get to know him, and he genuinely believes that he’s assisting by making the situation funnier.
Merlin can occasionally be a bit of a hard-head, particularly when his students are involved; if they are being lazy (and believe it, Merlin knows lazy,) he will push them harder, and harder until they get up off of their lazy bums and begin to excel in the way he knows they can. Generally unwilling to take no for an answer, Merlin knows how teens are and can be an understanding shoulder for those who need a release for pent-up emotions.
Family: Merlin’s parents have both passed away
History: Merlin’s life began nearly 31 years ago, on the eve of July 31st. Born to Alisa and Tristan Hawke, he was raised a regular muggle for many years within the city of London. Named after a prestigious charlatan and supposed court magician of the fictious ruler, King Arthur, he began to resent his name in his early years as other boys around his age would often poke fun at him. He was an only child, and often left to his own devices, as his mother and father worked multiple jobs in the hopes of securing him a good future, and he remained at home, dreaming to be something more than just a little boy; he dreamed of being a warrior, a rogue, a mage, and various other things, and played video games and hung out with other like-minded boys throughout the years of his childhood.
It was on one such day that he was playing at home alone, pretending to be a magister of awesome power that he accidentally lifted up the table; he didn’t do anything more than that, startled as he was so he promptly dropped the object, but it was an astonishing happenstance, nonetheless. Merlin felt that such a thing were surely a happening of his own imagination. And yet, when he received the letter from Hogwarts regarding his magical talents… Well, surely there was no more questioning that such a thing had truly occurred. His parents were rightfully speculative at first, and upon arrival at Diagon Alley, all their speculation was swept away by eager excitement. It was there that Merlin got his robes, his first wand, which happened to be 14”, made of Ebony, and with the core of a Dragon Heartstring. They also managed to acquire Merlin’s other school supplies, but they didn’t matter to him nearly as much as the others.
Merlin attended Hogwarts that first year with a giddy anticipation, and despite all that was different from what he expected, he found the experience to be wholly satisfying. Placed in the house of Hufflepuff, he was constantly ridiculed by both Gryffindor and Slytherin students alike, who felt that they were superior to him not only in class, but also because he was a paltry muggle-born. Used to such teasing by now, Merlin only took such things in stride, and he continued on his way without a regard for what was transpiring that didn’t involve him.
Merlin was always an aloof child, and when the second year at Hogwarts came around, the anticipation he felt whilst riding upon the train there was unparalleled; save for the year before. In the second year, the ridicule continued, but Merlin was so ecstatic with every new thing to learn that brought his wildest dreams true that he honestly couldn’t be bothered long enough to care about what they were going to do to him next. He loved all of his classes, but probably enjoyed Defense against the Dark Arts the most.
The next year, of course, he was even more excited for, because he was older than the year before. He learned tons of magic and that excited him, but the potions teacher was not particularly his favourite by any stretch of the imagination. He wasn’t particularly fond of Potions, but then, he had never really liked the class much the other two years he had attended Hogwarts; but he still somehow managed to succeed – marginally.
Merlin’s fourth year in Hogwarts was dreadfully uneventful, but he continued to learn much more than he had learned in any other year before; possibly because the curriculum was, of course, more advanced than any he had previously studied; unlike other students, he was at a sheer disadvantage because of his previous lack of experience in the magical world, and while there were others in similar situations, Merlin was one of the few who rose up over the difficulties in order to better himself.
The fifth year of Hogwarts – Merlin didn’t exactly attend much of anything, but he had piles, and piles and piles of homework; he absolutely loathed the concept of homework, even when he was there at Hogwarts instead of punking around in the Muggle world, yet he was forced to do so because of reparations or some stupidity; he found the entire concept annoying, and he was not shy in voicing his opinions.
His sixth year was much of the same; it angered him greatly, particularly since there was the law about under-age wizards using magic without supervision. Merlin loved just using magic, the tingling feeling that went through one’s body whenever they did so, however he somehow managed to reign in the urge to do so in order to make it (somewhat) successfully through the school year.
But the seventh year, Merlin was finally permitted to return to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was, of course, elated to be within the ancient halls of the Castle once more, though he attempted to play as tough as possible; such acts, however, came unnaturally hard to him, as the boy was honest, through and through. That year, the Triwizard Tournament was held, and many boys within the ranks of Hufflepuff joked among one another about winning it and securing the eye of whatever “babe” they had their eye upon. Merlin, silent and steadfast, felt that he had to win the tournament in order to prove himself. How exactly, he was going to prove himself, he was not exactly certain; but he signed up, nonetheless.
The names were chosen during the Halloween Feast; to this day, Merlin does not recall the other competitors, but he – Merlin Hawke, was chosen as the Champion for Hogwarts. It was a prestigious honour in itself, merely being chosen as the Champion (though it was fully random luck); yet that was not all that Merlin was determined to win. He wanted to win the Triwizard Tournament itself. So determined and steadfast was he that his peers within Hufflepuff began to notice – and even respect him. Merlin fumbled past the first trial, and squeaked past the second; and he was anxious about the third. It was upon one of those nights, during the silence of the hours, that he opened and read a letter he had received earlier that day. The information within flabbergasted him; his parents were dead.
He sat up the entire night, crying, and yet, when the third task came, he did not forfeit; on the contrary, he was determined to win. And so he did; much to the amazement of those around him, he was the victor of the Triwizard Tournament. And yet it did not feel like much of a victory, and the rest of the year, despite the adulation of his peers, life felt hollow. Merlin graduated from Hogwarts with just the right scores to achieve what he wanted; to become an Auror.
He went into the Wizarding World, armed only with the 1000 Galleons he had acquired as the victor of the Triwizard Tournament. The prestige afforded him as such made him seem a logical candidate for the training and, as a result, he spent three grueling years training to be an Auror. Finally, he was someone.
And yet, it felt so hollow, as he seemed to be truly alone. He was unsure of his course in life, and so for many years, he coasted as an Auror. It wasn’t until he heard that Hogwarts required a new Transfiguration instructor that he had been proverbially snapped out of his “funk.” Since then, he’s managed to define himself greatly. [/ul]
Roleplay Sample: (Back when I used to RP Riku on another site)
Riku narrowed his eyes, and while they were filled with loathing, he had to respect the older man's way with words; however, when Riku had been possessed by his Heartless, he'd become numb to their cold and harsh sting, and cooly brushed off the comment that Xemnas had made concerning his friends; the only Nobody he considered a friend was Naminé, because Roxas was too pig-headed and full of himself to ever acknowledge that he could be associated with Riku; plus Roxas always seemed to be holding something against him, as if Riku had killed his dog or something; he'd never touched anyone's dog, so that was a big no-no; maybe the Nobody was just pulling Sora's weight and hating Riku's guts out in his stead. Either way, it hardly bothered him one way or another; the fact that he knew some Nobodies couldn't erase the disdain that Ansem the Wise had so carefully crammed into his skull for them, though Naminé made him curious as to whether or not Nobody's could actually feel, and he could've sworn Roxas had seemed as such, too, but what he'd done with Naminé, that made him doubt Roxas's humanity.
Riku turned to glare at Xemnas's back with full-fledged fury after the man hit him on the head with one his stupid lightsaber weapons; where did he get off his superiority train? Did he think Riku was just going to stand idly by and let him humiliate him, whether there was an audience or not? But when he spoke, he didn't let the anger he felt protrude into the icy voice he ejected into the air. "My friends seem to be so willing to ignore me, so I hardly think they'd notice any negative feelings when they can't even acknowledge my positive ones. And I condemn them to no fate; they don't chase after Kingdom Hearts like you do, obsessed with the ability to possess feelings; they've found a way to pull it off without this useless thing called a heart." By now, he was sure that Xemnas was fully out of his normal speaking voice's range; the fact that he hadn't got to vent his anger fully on the arrogant Nobody just made his blood boil with rage.
He had heard gunshots earlier, and a part of him wanted to run in and intervene with whatever madness was going on; but that would put him headed in the same direction as Xemnas, and he was sure that other party-goers would have already diffused the situation before he would even make it in the room, so he stood rooted to the spot momentarily, still glaring at Xemnas's back until he had decided that the older man didn't deserve his attention for one second longer; he would deal with the jerk accordingly on his own time, and in a different place, too; where the laws of Radiant Garden effectively protected the dick because he'd participated in the Winter Battle alongside the side of Light.
Riku dropped his gaze to the floor, wondering about his situation; wondering about why tonight, of all nights, seemed to be going to all hell and back? Possibly the biggest problem he had with tonight, though, was the fact that he wasn't even needed; he'd only been acknowledged once, and he'd put his life on the line just so Roxas could effectively shatter Naminé's non-existent heart; some friend he was. Did he even deserve that right? Why did he persist so much to try to stay a part of their lives when they seemed to be moving on so quickly? Even Sora, his best friend, seemed to be distancing himself from Riku, probably attempting to replace him with that blonde-haired Nobody of his, whom he claimed as a twin.
He wasn't even really needed. They all had seemingly their own groups of friends now, and he hardly ever seemed to be included; when he was, it was just so he could be laughed at and taken advantage of for their own personal amusement, without any regard to how that might affect his feelings; it seemed that everyone around had started to slowly become like a large group of that bastard Ansem - Xehanort's Heartless, that is. Using him for their own needs and not even asking him if he cared where they went or what they were doing; they were always finding ways to either ridicule him in a new way or to just exclude him entirely; this was the first time he'd done anything in a group with "friends" in a month, and within minutes of the party starting, everyone seemingly forgot about his very existence.
Riku clenched his fists tightly, and his knuckles immediately started turning white, his fingers pressed harshly against the soft skin of his palms; why did it even bother him so much? This was how it had been for the past three years; he was always tagging along as a third wheel, the only people actually taking the time to talk to him being those stupid fangirls, and that was just because they liked his body, not him. Everyone was always so busy; not busy enough for their other friends, but if it involved Riku, well then, that took too much time and effort. Unbidden, tears started welling up in his eyes. The fact that everyone had effectively replaced Riku in their lives with a substitute was just too painful for words; and a lump appeared in his throat that refused to go away, even after a long attempt of clearing his throat.
He sniffed slightly, raising his face to glare once more at the ballroom. Well, maybe he didn't need them if they didn't need him; he certainly needed no hope from any of them to be himself; because he could ever be around them was a laughingstock, a target for all of their insecurities about themselves and point out all of his flaws. So he did some stupid stuff a few years ago, namely getting hammered and trying to get Sora jealous enough to go steady with Kairi; it wasn't a bright idea and by all means he regretted having done that now, but everyone still seemed to hold it over his head as if he was still just a drunken idiot waiting to pounce on the next skirt that came by, which was completely and totally not true. Over the last three years, he'd wised up, and he knew where his love lay.
Only it didn't seemed to be reciprocated at all. He'd never understood the phrase "unrequited love" until recently, and know he understood exactly what it meant, but more importantly how it felt; everytime he wanted to tell her, all she threw his way was a a glare and a threat, or maybe even an insult; and that was a good day. On days like this, she actually tried to go through with the homicide, something he didn't find particularly pleasant at all, and he was certain that it all had to do with that idiotic future version of himself. So what if the future had shown Riku as a relentless bastard that just blindly followed the orders of Sora? She should be blaming Sora if anything, not the phantom of the person he is now; even now, he was a completely different person than his future self, and it pained him that people still judged him about his past and future actions.
Unsatisfied with glaring at the ballroom while he could just imagine what was going on inside, Riku pivoted on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction, his hands still balled so tightly into fists that he could hardly feel them now. His walking was slow and deliberate, and, since he had no real destination, he merely returned his gaze to the floor, something he felt akin to, seeing as everyone merely used him as a rug to walk over; it sure seemed that way back on Destiny Islands; hell, he lived in the same house as Sora and Kairi and he was lucky if they even acknowledged his existence with a simple greeting; blessed if they even took the time to let him actually respond to a question of, "How ya doing?" It galled him that even his two best friends had better things to do than socialize with him; too busy dealing with ther stupid "twins".
Riku stopped, and then decided on a destination. He might actually bump into somebody down in these dimly lit hallways of the castle; he certainly didn't want that, least of all if it was somebody he was "friends" with. He loosened his fists, relaxing them with an exasperated sigh, still fighting a losing battle to hold his tears in from his self-pity and loathing. Even he judged himself on his past and future decisions. He was certain that Kumika's bitterness towards him was, without a doubt due Future Riku's quick disposal of Kadaj; and he was even bitter towards himself for that, because he knew that had, without a doubt, hurt Kumika. The fact that he could bring himself to hurt her in some way, whether it was the future version of himself or not, it was unbearable for himself.
He'd wished that the future versions of himself, Sora, and Kumika had given the boy a chance; he'd hated Kadaj's guts, mostly because he was lucky enough to have been with Kumika, but if being with Kadaj was what made Kumika happy, then Riku couldn't think of a better situation, except that once again he ended up as a third wheel. His footsteps echoed down the long, hollow hallways as he started walking again, much representing what he perceived to be his life, abandoned and only used as a means to an end. He turned the next corner, vaguely aware of the general direction of his destination. He shook his head and almost lost his composure; why did he cling to them so desperately when it seemed so obvious that they all just wanted hiim to go away? Maybe that was why Sora had been giving him that look earlier; telling him to beat it, that he wasn't wanted around here any more.
Riku raised a hand to shield his eyes from anyone who might walk into the corridor from the direction he was headed; he didn't want to be seen crying, that was too much of a bother. He was hardly even much of a means to an end around here, anyway. He used to be good at fighting, and he used to good at sneaking around, finding stuff out, and being a comforting guy to be around, a handy guy, sometimes even smart; but each position that he used to be "good" at was slowly being filled by those who were better, who were more charming, who were more attractive; who were just better than Riku in every aspect in such a way they couldn't even contend with them if he'd wanted to; so maybe he should just stop trying. Maybe he should just disappear; just leave their lives and let them live it out with who they want, and not burden them with his presence any longer.
Riku seriously considered that thought for a moment, and seriously considered just how much of an improvement he deemd they might have in their lives; Kairi and Sora would finally have the privacy they want, Kumika would have to deal with one less ingrate, Roxas wouldn't have a reason to get pissed every time he came over to visit or just walked by Riku on the street, he would create less opportunities for Naminé to get hurt, the students at the Keyblade Academy might actually learn something if they had a more proficient teacher at the school... He had a plethora of reasons for everyone to be happy, and it saddened him that it was so easy to formulate in a matter of seconds. He would, however, start by getting out of their life tonight by just going up to the roof; he would loath to cause them any inconvenience or awkward-ness in their carefree Riku-less night.
Riku's course was growing near its destination; the stairwell was within sight and he was tempted to pick up his pace so as to make it there quicker with less of a chance to get ambushed by some fangirl or some other idiotic thing he certainly didn't feel like dealing with at the moment. And what was with all of his fangirls? What about him was so desirable? Obviously not his looks, because the only people that mattered to him never even looked twice, and not his personality, because the only people that mattered to him always told him to either grow up, shut up, or go the fuck away. The tears started flowing once more, finally breaking the mental dam that he'd held up for so long. He did quicken his pace, and when he got to the entrance of the stairwell, he only paused momentarily before beginning the long trek up to the roof-top.
His dress shoes clicked with every step on the stone stairs as he made his way up the dimly-lit and ever so creepily blue-tinted castle. He wondered why everything in this place seemed to make fun of him, to remind him of what he wanted and never seemed to be able to get; it was liked a big punch in the face every time he opened his eyes. He reached backwards, and pulled the ribbon that had held his hair back into such a neat ponytail out of it's delicate bow. He shook his head a little bit, pausing mid-step, and immediately his long bangs fell into place covering his eyes; much better. His face was still in it's perpetual frown once he reached the next floor, and when he did, he slammed his fist into the wall.
He couldn't believe just how much he'd had to deal with in the past few years that he just couldn't bring himself to respond against; or, rather, didn't know how to respond to it. Always, always, he was receiving grief from anyone, whether it was a close friend or just some random person on the street. Hell, the only people who even gave him compliments these days were his fangirls, and they could never ever manage to have a conversation besides telling him about what they perceived as attractive-ness; he pitied them, because they were obviously deluded if they were capable of finding a loathsome creature like himself attractive. He pulled his fist back again, and slammed it once more into the wall; the pain that accompanied it hardly bothered him, though he doubted his left hand was now in fully functional condition; yet he still wanted to do nothing more than to ram his hand into the wall continually until it would never function again; perhaps the physical pain would be enough to override everything he was feeling.
After toying with the idea for a bit, Riku decided that no amount of physical pain could ever amount to the despair he was feeling at the moment, and let his left hand drop limply to his side, once again shaking his head and wiping his tears away from his eyes with his right hand; he was just barely keeping himself from sobbing his heart out, which he was certain he was going to do once he made it to the rooftop. With a reason to continue moving so that he could better pity himself on the roof, Riku continued walking, each step a resounding reminder of how empty his life was now, about how hopeless he was, and about how much of a useless and despicable person he happened to be. Riku wondered how, with what he was feeling about himself now, he'd ever considered himself worthy of Kumika; he just didn't even know now.
When he reached the roof, he felt immediately just how cold it happened to be up here; fitting, he supposed, since that's how cold his life was at this moment; no smiles, no hugs, or even encouraging comments to help him through; why did everyone seem to blame everything on him? Maybe because you always mess up, he told himself glumly. Can't even save a couple from getting chewed out when you end up causing the break up between them to happen. He was sure that somehow, merely being in proximity of him had screwed up Roxas's and Naminé's relationship. He wondered how he could live knowing that everything and everyone he seemed to touch was either messed up or attempting to distance themselves from him. Maybe it was just a curse that came with not having the willpower to resist the temptation of darkness when it had beckoned him into its cold, dark depths.
What he wouldn't do to go back to the darkness now, free from everything that was happening, the stresses that came with the people he lived with. If he'd just accepted Ansem's invitation so long ago, he could just be resting in the security of eternal darkness now, instead of trying desperately to save every relationship he'd ever had because he always finds some way to screw it up. He wouldn't be caring about how he looked when he was around Kumika, how he acted, or even, really, how he felt throughout everyday life if he'd just let Ansem take over his body; that would have been an easy solution that he was sudden eager to get back; hiding in the darkness from the light; sometimes it seemed as though the light was as harsh and unforgiven as it made the darkness seem...
Riku was fed up with trying to hold it all in; the harder he tried, the more he thought about it and the worse it felt; so he let it all out in a desperate scream, a scream he hoped would make him feel better. But the first scream didn't work, and the second one hardly affected how he felt at all; by the time he was hoarse, he hardly felt as though it had been worth the time; the only thing that had happened as a result of his attempts to make himself feel better was now his throat hurt and his voice sounded off; He dropped to his knees with a sob, and slammed his left hand down once more with all of his might into the floor of the roof. The pain shot through his hand once more, yet again, it didn't bother him, or make him feel better.
Still on his knees, Riku looked up at the sky, at the stars that represented all of the worlds; he knew that all the worlds shared the same sky, and that somewhere out there, one of those stars was Destiny Islands; where he grew up and where he, Sora, and Kairi lived today. Well, that was going to change; he didn't want to burden the Islands with dealing with his presence any more. He was going to find a way to make himself disappear so that they wouldn't have to deal with him any more, and thoroughly enough that even if Sora was guilt-tripped into going to search for him, not even Sora would be able to find him. He was going to do that very soon, and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell anyone about his plans.
But more immediately, he wanted to feel better, to get all this pain out of his system, to replace it with something else; rage or some other emotion that he was so used to when he had been actively using the darkness; he considered it more than feasible to resort to rage in a situation like this; and it wasn't long before all of his despair and helplessness that he felt with every thought of his friends replacing him with their new buddies and hating himself for all the stupid things he'd done turned into a cold, yet seething anger. And he knew how to resolve that. He found himself a handy wall up on the roof, on the back of the little shack-like part of the roof that led inside the building, and then, without warning summoned Way to Dawn into his hand. Without regard for who might be listening or who might walk up and see what he was doing, Riku began to swing all of his anger away into the wall; and each swing left a long gash in the wall, accompanied by a slight, angry grunt. It wasn't long before an expanding criss-cross pattern began to form upon the wall, only to expand more and more as the night went on.
First Password: Mischief Managed
Second Password: Billywig
(Hey there! It's a pleasure to be applying for the site, I just wanted to annotate down here that if I was too presumptuous in claiming the position of champion during that year or in anything I presently have listed in my profile, just give me a strong chastising and I'll be sure to straighten it out in a jiffy! ^^
Character
Merlin also loves humour; he finds that humour can alleviate the worst of moods and soften the hardest of blows, and, as a result, strives to include it in almost everything he does. Usually, his humour is done in such a manner that “hip” and “cool” people may be inclined to do nothing more than slap their palm to their face and groan in such a fashion, however, Merlin’s humour does not generally stop at the “bad pun” station; he also tells jokes and funny stories the more you get to know him, and he genuinely believes that he’s assisting by making the situation funnier.
Merlin can occasionally be a bit of a hard-head, particularly when his students are involved; if they are being lazy (and believe it, Merlin knows lazy,) he will push them harder, and harder until they get up off of their lazy bums and begin to excel in the way he knows they can. Generally unwilling to take no for an answer, Merlin knows how teens are and can be an understanding shoulder for those who need a release for pent-up emotions.
Family: Merlin’s parents have both passed away
History: Merlin’s life began nearly 31 years ago, on the eve of July 31st. Born to Alisa and Tristan Hawke, he was raised a regular muggle for many years within the city of London. Named after a prestigious charlatan and supposed court magician of the fictious ruler, King Arthur, he began to resent his name in his early years as other boys around his age would often poke fun at him. He was an only child, and often left to his own devices, as his mother and father worked multiple jobs in the hopes of securing him a good future, and he remained at home, dreaming to be something more than just a little boy; he dreamed of being a warrior, a rogue, a mage, and various other things, and played video games and hung out with other like-minded boys throughout the years of his childhood.
It was on one such day that he was playing at home alone, pretending to be a magister of awesome power that he accidentally lifted up the table; he didn’t do anything more than that, startled as he was so he promptly dropped the object, but it was an astonishing happenstance, nonetheless. Merlin felt that such a thing were surely a happening of his own imagination. And yet, when he received the letter from Hogwarts regarding his magical talents… Well, surely there was no more questioning that such a thing had truly occurred. His parents were rightfully speculative at first, and upon arrival at Diagon Alley, all their speculation was swept away by eager excitement. It was there that Merlin got his robes, his first wand, which happened to be 14”, made of Ebony, and with the core of a Dragon Heartstring. They also managed to acquire Merlin’s other school supplies, but they didn’t matter to him nearly as much as the others.
Merlin attended Hogwarts that first year with a giddy anticipation, and despite all that was different from what he expected, he found the experience to be wholly satisfying. Placed in the house of Hufflepuff, he was constantly ridiculed by both Gryffindor and Slytherin students alike, who felt that they were superior to him not only in class, but also because he was a paltry muggle-born. Used to such teasing by now, Merlin only took such things in stride, and he continued on his way without a regard for what was transpiring that didn’t involve him.
Merlin was always an aloof child, and when the second year at Hogwarts came around, the anticipation he felt whilst riding upon the train there was unparalleled; save for the year before. In the second year, the ridicule continued, but Merlin was so ecstatic with every new thing to learn that brought his wildest dreams true that he honestly couldn’t be bothered long enough to care about what they were going to do to him next. He loved all of his classes, but probably enjoyed Defense against the Dark Arts the most.
The next year, of course, he was even more excited for, because he was older than the year before. He learned tons of magic and that excited him, but the potions teacher was not particularly his favourite by any stretch of the imagination. He wasn’t particularly fond of Potions, but then, he had never really liked the class much the other two years he had attended Hogwarts; but he still somehow managed to succeed – marginally.
Merlin’s fourth year in Hogwarts was dreadfully uneventful, but he continued to learn much more than he had learned in any other year before; possibly because the curriculum was, of course, more advanced than any he had previously studied; unlike other students, he was at a sheer disadvantage because of his previous lack of experience in the magical world, and while there were others in similar situations, Merlin was one of the few who rose up over the difficulties in order to better himself.
The fifth year of Hogwarts – Merlin didn’t exactly attend much of anything, but he had piles, and piles and piles of homework; he absolutely loathed the concept of homework, even when he was there at Hogwarts instead of punking around in the Muggle world, yet he was forced to do so because of reparations or some stupidity; he found the entire concept annoying, and he was not shy in voicing his opinions.
His sixth year was much of the same; it angered him greatly, particularly since there was the law about under-age wizards using magic without supervision. Merlin loved just using magic, the tingling feeling that went through one’s body whenever they did so, however he somehow managed to reign in the urge to do so in order to make it (somewhat) successfully through the school year.
But the seventh year, Merlin was finally permitted to return to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was, of course, elated to be within the ancient halls of the Castle once more, though he attempted to play as tough as possible; such acts, however, came unnaturally hard to him, as the boy was honest, through and through. That year, the Triwizard Tournament was held, and many boys within the ranks of Hufflepuff joked among one another about winning it and securing the eye of whatever “babe” they had their eye upon. Merlin, silent and steadfast, felt that he had to win the tournament in order to prove himself. How exactly, he was going to prove himself, he was not exactly certain; but he signed up, nonetheless.
The names were chosen during the Halloween Feast; to this day, Merlin does not recall the other competitors, but he – Merlin Hawke, was chosen as the Champion for Hogwarts. It was a prestigious honour in itself, merely being chosen as the Champion (though it was fully random luck); yet that was not all that Merlin was determined to win. He wanted to win the Triwizard Tournament itself. So determined and steadfast was he that his peers within Hufflepuff began to notice – and even respect him. Merlin fumbled past the first trial, and squeaked past the second; and he was anxious about the third. It was upon one of those nights, during the silence of the hours, that he opened and read a letter he had received earlier that day. The information within flabbergasted him; his parents were dead.
He sat up the entire night, crying, and yet, when the third task came, he did not forfeit; on the contrary, he was determined to win. And so he did; much to the amazement of those around him, he was the victor of the Triwizard Tournament. And yet it did not feel like much of a victory, and the rest of the year, despite the adulation of his peers, life felt hollow. Merlin graduated from Hogwarts with just the right scores to achieve what he wanted; to become an Auror.
He went into the Wizarding World, armed only with the 1000 Galleons he had acquired as the victor of the Triwizard Tournament. The prestige afforded him as such made him seem a logical candidate for the training and, as a result, he spent three grueling years training to be an Auror. Finally, he was someone.
And yet, it felt so hollow, as he seemed to be truly alone. He was unsure of his course in life, and so for many years, he coasted as an Auror. It wasn’t until he heard that Hogwarts required a new Transfiguration instructor that he had been proverbially snapped out of his “funk.” Since then, he’s managed to define himself greatly. [/ul]
Roleplay Sample: (Back when I used to RP Riku on another site)
Riku narrowed his eyes, and while they were filled with loathing, he had to respect the older man's way with words; however, when Riku had been possessed by his Heartless, he'd become numb to their cold and harsh sting, and cooly brushed off the comment that Xemnas had made concerning his friends; the only Nobody he considered a friend was Naminé, because Roxas was too pig-headed and full of himself to ever acknowledge that he could be associated with Riku; plus Roxas always seemed to be holding something against him, as if Riku had killed his dog or something; he'd never touched anyone's dog, so that was a big no-no; maybe the Nobody was just pulling Sora's weight and hating Riku's guts out in his stead. Either way, it hardly bothered him one way or another; the fact that he knew some Nobodies couldn't erase the disdain that Ansem the Wise had so carefully crammed into his skull for them, though Naminé made him curious as to whether or not Nobody's could actually feel, and he could've sworn Roxas had seemed as such, too, but what he'd done with Naminé, that made him doubt Roxas's humanity.
Riku turned to glare at Xemnas's back with full-fledged fury after the man hit him on the head with one his stupid lightsaber weapons; where did he get off his superiority train? Did he think Riku was just going to stand idly by and let him humiliate him, whether there was an audience or not? But when he spoke, he didn't let the anger he felt protrude into the icy voice he ejected into the air. "My friends seem to be so willing to ignore me, so I hardly think they'd notice any negative feelings when they can't even acknowledge my positive ones. And I condemn them to no fate; they don't chase after Kingdom Hearts like you do, obsessed with the ability to possess feelings; they've found a way to pull it off without this useless thing called a heart." By now, he was sure that Xemnas was fully out of his normal speaking voice's range; the fact that he hadn't got to vent his anger fully on the arrogant Nobody just made his blood boil with rage.
He had heard gunshots earlier, and a part of him wanted to run in and intervene with whatever madness was going on; but that would put him headed in the same direction as Xemnas, and he was sure that other party-goers would have already diffused the situation before he would even make it in the room, so he stood rooted to the spot momentarily, still glaring at Xemnas's back until he had decided that the older man didn't deserve his attention for one second longer; he would deal with the jerk accordingly on his own time, and in a different place, too; where the laws of Radiant Garden effectively protected the dick because he'd participated in the Winter Battle alongside the side of Light.
Riku dropped his gaze to the floor, wondering about his situation; wondering about why tonight, of all nights, seemed to be going to all hell and back? Possibly the biggest problem he had with tonight, though, was the fact that he wasn't even needed; he'd only been acknowledged once, and he'd put his life on the line just so Roxas could effectively shatter Naminé's non-existent heart; some friend he was. Did he even deserve that right? Why did he persist so much to try to stay a part of their lives when they seemed to be moving on so quickly? Even Sora, his best friend, seemed to be distancing himself from Riku, probably attempting to replace him with that blonde-haired Nobody of his, whom he claimed as a twin.
He wasn't even really needed. They all had seemingly their own groups of friends now, and he hardly ever seemed to be included; when he was, it was just so he could be laughed at and taken advantage of for their own personal amusement, without any regard to how that might affect his feelings; it seemed that everyone around had started to slowly become like a large group of that bastard Ansem - Xehanort's Heartless, that is. Using him for their own needs and not even asking him if he cared where they went or what they were doing; they were always finding ways to either ridicule him in a new way or to just exclude him entirely; this was the first time he'd done anything in a group with "friends" in a month, and within minutes of the party starting, everyone seemingly forgot about his very existence.
Riku clenched his fists tightly, and his knuckles immediately started turning white, his fingers pressed harshly against the soft skin of his palms; why did it even bother him so much? This was how it had been for the past three years; he was always tagging along as a third wheel, the only people actually taking the time to talk to him being those stupid fangirls, and that was just because they liked his body, not him. Everyone was always so busy; not busy enough for their other friends, but if it involved Riku, well then, that took too much time and effort. Unbidden, tears started welling up in his eyes. The fact that everyone had effectively replaced Riku in their lives with a substitute was just too painful for words; and a lump appeared in his throat that refused to go away, even after a long attempt of clearing his throat.
He sniffed slightly, raising his face to glare once more at the ballroom. Well, maybe he didn't need them if they didn't need him; he certainly needed no hope from any of them to be himself; because he could ever be around them was a laughingstock, a target for all of their insecurities about themselves and point out all of his flaws. So he did some stupid stuff a few years ago, namely getting hammered and trying to get Sora jealous enough to go steady with Kairi; it wasn't a bright idea and by all means he regretted having done that now, but everyone still seemed to hold it over his head as if he was still just a drunken idiot waiting to pounce on the next skirt that came by, which was completely and totally not true. Over the last three years, he'd wised up, and he knew where his love lay.
Only it didn't seemed to be reciprocated at all. He'd never understood the phrase "unrequited love" until recently, and know he understood exactly what it meant, but more importantly how it felt; everytime he wanted to tell her, all she threw his way was a a glare and a threat, or maybe even an insult; and that was a good day. On days like this, she actually tried to go through with the homicide, something he didn't find particularly pleasant at all, and he was certain that it all had to do with that idiotic future version of himself. So what if the future had shown Riku as a relentless bastard that just blindly followed the orders of Sora? She should be blaming Sora if anything, not the phantom of the person he is now; even now, he was a completely different person than his future self, and it pained him that people still judged him about his past and future actions.
Unsatisfied with glaring at the ballroom while he could just imagine what was going on inside, Riku pivoted on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction, his hands still balled so tightly into fists that he could hardly feel them now. His walking was slow and deliberate, and, since he had no real destination, he merely returned his gaze to the floor, something he felt akin to, seeing as everyone merely used him as a rug to walk over; it sure seemed that way back on Destiny Islands; hell, he lived in the same house as Sora and Kairi and he was lucky if they even acknowledged his existence with a simple greeting; blessed if they even took the time to let him actually respond to a question of, "How ya doing?" It galled him that even his two best friends had better things to do than socialize with him; too busy dealing with ther stupid "twins".
Riku stopped, and then decided on a destination. He might actually bump into somebody down in these dimly lit hallways of the castle; he certainly didn't want that, least of all if it was somebody he was "friends" with. He loosened his fists, relaxing them with an exasperated sigh, still fighting a losing battle to hold his tears in from his self-pity and loathing. Even he judged himself on his past and future decisions. He was certain that Kumika's bitterness towards him was, without a doubt due Future Riku's quick disposal of Kadaj; and he was even bitter towards himself for that, because he knew that had, without a doubt, hurt Kumika. The fact that he could bring himself to hurt her in some way, whether it was the future version of himself or not, it was unbearable for himself.
He'd wished that the future versions of himself, Sora, and Kumika had given the boy a chance; he'd hated Kadaj's guts, mostly because he was lucky enough to have been with Kumika, but if being with Kadaj was what made Kumika happy, then Riku couldn't think of a better situation, except that once again he ended up as a third wheel. His footsteps echoed down the long, hollow hallways as he started walking again, much representing what he perceived to be his life, abandoned and only used as a means to an end. He turned the next corner, vaguely aware of the general direction of his destination. He shook his head and almost lost his composure; why did he cling to them so desperately when it seemed so obvious that they all just wanted hiim to go away? Maybe that was why Sora had been giving him that look earlier; telling him to beat it, that he wasn't wanted around here any more.
Riku raised a hand to shield his eyes from anyone who might walk into the corridor from the direction he was headed; he didn't want to be seen crying, that was too much of a bother. He was hardly even much of a means to an end around here, anyway. He used to be good at fighting, and he used to good at sneaking around, finding stuff out, and being a comforting guy to be around, a handy guy, sometimes even smart; but each position that he used to be "good" at was slowly being filled by those who were better, who were more charming, who were more attractive; who were just better than Riku in every aspect in such a way they couldn't even contend with them if he'd wanted to; so maybe he should just stop trying. Maybe he should just disappear; just leave their lives and let them live it out with who they want, and not burden them with his presence any longer.
Riku seriously considered that thought for a moment, and seriously considered just how much of an improvement he deemd they might have in their lives; Kairi and Sora would finally have the privacy they want, Kumika would have to deal with one less ingrate, Roxas wouldn't have a reason to get pissed every time he came over to visit or just walked by Riku on the street, he would create less opportunities for Naminé to get hurt, the students at the Keyblade Academy might actually learn something if they had a more proficient teacher at the school... He had a plethora of reasons for everyone to be happy, and it saddened him that it was so easy to formulate in a matter of seconds. He would, however, start by getting out of their life tonight by just going up to the roof; he would loath to cause them any inconvenience or awkward-ness in their carefree Riku-less night.
Riku's course was growing near its destination; the stairwell was within sight and he was tempted to pick up his pace so as to make it there quicker with less of a chance to get ambushed by some fangirl or some other idiotic thing he certainly didn't feel like dealing with at the moment. And what was with all of his fangirls? What about him was so desirable? Obviously not his looks, because the only people that mattered to him never even looked twice, and not his personality, because the only people that mattered to him always told him to either grow up, shut up, or go the fuck away. The tears started flowing once more, finally breaking the mental dam that he'd held up for so long. He did quicken his pace, and when he got to the entrance of the stairwell, he only paused momentarily before beginning the long trek up to the roof-top.
His dress shoes clicked with every step on the stone stairs as he made his way up the dimly-lit and ever so creepily blue-tinted castle. He wondered why everything in this place seemed to make fun of him, to remind him of what he wanted and never seemed to be able to get; it was liked a big punch in the face every time he opened his eyes. He reached backwards, and pulled the ribbon that had held his hair back into such a neat ponytail out of it's delicate bow. He shook his head a little bit, pausing mid-step, and immediately his long bangs fell into place covering his eyes; much better. His face was still in it's perpetual frown once he reached the next floor, and when he did, he slammed his fist into the wall.
He couldn't believe just how much he'd had to deal with in the past few years that he just couldn't bring himself to respond against; or, rather, didn't know how to respond to it. Always, always, he was receiving grief from anyone, whether it was a close friend or just some random person on the street. Hell, the only people who even gave him compliments these days were his fangirls, and they could never ever manage to have a conversation besides telling him about what they perceived as attractive-ness; he pitied them, because they were obviously deluded if they were capable of finding a loathsome creature like himself attractive. He pulled his fist back again, and slammed it once more into the wall; the pain that accompanied it hardly bothered him, though he doubted his left hand was now in fully functional condition; yet he still wanted to do nothing more than to ram his hand into the wall continually until it would never function again; perhaps the physical pain would be enough to override everything he was feeling.
After toying with the idea for a bit, Riku decided that no amount of physical pain could ever amount to the despair he was feeling at the moment, and let his left hand drop limply to his side, once again shaking his head and wiping his tears away from his eyes with his right hand; he was just barely keeping himself from sobbing his heart out, which he was certain he was going to do once he made it to the rooftop. With a reason to continue moving so that he could better pity himself on the roof, Riku continued walking, each step a resounding reminder of how empty his life was now, about how hopeless he was, and about how much of a useless and despicable person he happened to be. Riku wondered how, with what he was feeling about himself now, he'd ever considered himself worthy of Kumika; he just didn't even know now.
When he reached the roof, he felt immediately just how cold it happened to be up here; fitting, he supposed, since that's how cold his life was at this moment; no smiles, no hugs, or even encouraging comments to help him through; why did everyone seem to blame everything on him? Maybe because you always mess up, he told himself glumly. Can't even save a couple from getting chewed out when you end up causing the break up between them to happen. He was sure that somehow, merely being in proximity of him had screwed up Roxas's and Naminé's relationship. He wondered how he could live knowing that everything and everyone he seemed to touch was either messed up or attempting to distance themselves from him. Maybe it was just a curse that came with not having the willpower to resist the temptation of darkness when it had beckoned him into its cold, dark depths.
What he wouldn't do to go back to the darkness now, free from everything that was happening, the stresses that came with the people he lived with. If he'd just accepted Ansem's invitation so long ago, he could just be resting in the security of eternal darkness now, instead of trying desperately to save every relationship he'd ever had because he always finds some way to screw it up. He wouldn't be caring about how he looked when he was around Kumika, how he acted, or even, really, how he felt throughout everyday life if he'd just let Ansem take over his body; that would have been an easy solution that he was sudden eager to get back; hiding in the darkness from the light; sometimes it seemed as though the light was as harsh and unforgiven as it made the darkness seem...
Riku was fed up with trying to hold it all in; the harder he tried, the more he thought about it and the worse it felt; so he let it all out in a desperate scream, a scream he hoped would make him feel better. But the first scream didn't work, and the second one hardly affected how he felt at all; by the time he was hoarse, he hardly felt as though it had been worth the time; the only thing that had happened as a result of his attempts to make himself feel better was now his throat hurt and his voice sounded off; He dropped to his knees with a sob, and slammed his left hand down once more with all of his might into the floor of the roof. The pain shot through his hand once more, yet again, it didn't bother him, or make him feel better.
Still on his knees, Riku looked up at the sky, at the stars that represented all of the worlds; he knew that all the worlds shared the same sky, and that somewhere out there, one of those stars was Destiny Islands; where he grew up and where he, Sora, and Kairi lived today. Well, that was going to change; he didn't want to burden the Islands with dealing with his presence any more. He was going to find a way to make himself disappear so that they wouldn't have to deal with him any more, and thoroughly enough that even if Sora was guilt-tripped into going to search for him, not even Sora would be able to find him. He was going to do that very soon, and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell anyone about his plans.
But more immediately, he wanted to feel better, to get all this pain out of his system, to replace it with something else; rage or some other emotion that he was so used to when he had been actively using the darkness; he considered it more than feasible to resort to rage in a situation like this; and it wasn't long before all of his despair and helplessness that he felt with every thought of his friends replacing him with their new buddies and hating himself for all the stupid things he'd done turned into a cold, yet seething anger. And he knew how to resolve that. He found himself a handy wall up on the roof, on the back of the little shack-like part of the roof that led inside the building, and then, without warning summoned Way to Dawn into his hand. Without regard for who might be listening or who might walk up and see what he was doing, Riku began to swing all of his anger away into the wall; and each swing left a long gash in the wall, accompanied by a slight, angry grunt. It wasn't long before an expanding criss-cross pattern began to form upon the wall, only to expand more and more as the night went on.
First Password: Mischief Managed
Second Password: Billywig
(Hey there! It's a pleasure to be applying for the site, I just wanted to annotate down here that if I was too presumptuous in claiming the position of champion during that year or in anything I presently have listed in my profile, just give me a strong chastising and I'll be sure to straighten it out in a jiffy! ^^
