Post by tommy lewis on Jul 3, 2010 23:14:36 GMT -5
HELLO MY NAME IS THOMAS ALEXANDER LEWIS AND I AM TWELVE YEARS OLD. I'M A HUMAN AND I'M A DERELICT AND I WAS BORN ON 1/10/1873 IN ENGLAND. MY NATIONALITY IS BRITISH. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE FREDDIE HIGHMORE. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM MISCHIEVOUS, OPTIMISTIC, AND PICKY. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY MANDEE.
CODEWORD: -admin edit-
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:"Hank, I don't know if you should be doing this anymore. Think about Chelsea and Mark. Don't you realize that you're putting not only yourself, but them in danger with this?"
Hank turned to look at his wife after she said this. She was standing near the stairs, with a worried look on her face. Sitting not far away on a couch were a teenaged boy and girl. The boy was paying close attention to what his parents were saying, while the girl was busy watching tv.
"I'm not going to give this up. Do you know how long our family has been working at this? I'm not going to give that up just because of a little slip up. I'd be letting my whole family down if I quit now! I'd be letting the kids down too. It's because of this that I have enough money for all of our little extras around the house."
"A little slip up?! Hank, you killed someone! And I know that wasn't a slip up. You meant to do that. They were threatening your interests, so you did away with them. Don't you think someone might be looking for revenge? Hank, please listen to me. You are putting your children in danger with this."
The same teenage boy, Mark, was walking across Platform 9 3/4 and onto the Hogwarts train. He was ready to start his 6th year. It was a few weeks after the previous incident, and Mark still could not get his mind off of it. He still could not figure out what his parents had been talking about. Had his father killed someone at his job? All Mark knew of his father was that he worked at the Ministry. His sister, Chelsea, had her theories that her father was involved with other things, things that would get him fired from the Ministry of Magic in an instant, but Mark wasn't so quick to jump the gun on that one. Especially with the way Chelsea had been acting lately.
Speaking of Chelsea, she came up right behind him on the train, with a huge grin on her face. She was holding her trunk in one hand, and what appeared to be a newspaper in the other. The two were starting to make their way down the aisle of the train, when Mark stopped for some unknown reason. This confused his sister, who almost plowed into him and knocked him over. Chelsea looked at her brother with a raised eyebrow.
"Why are you..."
She stopped talking when her older brother held his hand up. The slightly younger girl sighed, wondering if she was ever going to get her question answered. Then she saw her brother looking in one particular direction. A man was standing there. To be honest, he didn't look as if he belonged on the Hogwarts train at all. Chelsea was the first to make a comment about this. She whispered in Marshall's ear.
"It's a communist spy. See, what did I tell you?"
Mark turned to face his sister, returning the raised eyebrow look she'd given him earlier. Chelsea had a slight grin on her face, so he couldn't tell if she had been joking or was actually serious about the communist spy comment. That was the way it went with a lot of her comments nowadays. Maybe getting Chelsea that...TV? Yes, TV, that was what it was called. Anyway, maybe it wasn't such a good idea buying that for her. Ever since their parents bought it for the girl (after months of begging on Chelsea's part), Chelsea was seeming more and more paranoid. But again, Mark wasn't sure if she was joking around, or if she was serious with her comments. Or if it was a mixture of both. When Mark returned his attention to where the man was standing, he couldn't find him anywhere. Hmm. That was odd. Mark looked around, but he still couldn't find any signs of where the man had gone to.
Chelsea and Mark continued throug the train, and the two finally reached the compartment their usual seats were in. Mark let Chelsea into the aisle first, so she could take the window seat. Then he sat down next to her, wondering what his sixth year would be like, and also watching to see if anyone else would enter the compartment they were in. Chelsea, on the other hand, looked out the window for a few seconds. Then she unfolded the newspaper she had and began reading it. It was an issue of the Daily Prophet, dated September 1, 1965.
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