Gaven Micheal McLanders SpeirsNicknames:
February 23rd,1863Current Age:
Painter / dress up doll for his motherHogwarts House:
Chestnut 10", supple, python venomBlood Status:
Mary Lynn Speirs (mother)
Donald Leroy Speirs (father)
Dove Argeneau Speirs (17, little sister)
(more optional later)Appearance:
Gaven has long hair unlike most men of his class. Most people prefer the clean trimmed look, Gaven prefers a slightly ruffled look. He prefers longer locks. His eyes are always full of promise, mischief and secrets. When he is out in public he can fool just about anyone. His mother wants him married so much that she dresses him in the most fashionable clothes, keeping up his appearance in well tailored suites. Though he has a sneaking suspicion all of his clothes have a tighter....back end to show off his “best attribute” according to his mother. Outside of dressing up for the sake of public he dresses in just about anything at home. Sometimes found shirtless out around the stables, once or twice someone called him a stable boy...he even went along with it for giggles. He likes to be casual he only wears the fancy things for the sake of his mother.
Unlike most young men his age, he loves to run. Which keeps his legs in pretty good shape, he has a lean waist, slightly muscular and pleasing to the eye. His arms are lightly chiseled with muscle, mainly from helping his mother lift things around the house. Laziness has never been something for him. He is fairly active, even when sitting still he can be bouncy. The only time he really stays “still” is when he paints.History:
(I'm trying something new with this history...so please bare with me. If you do not like the change tell me, and I'll write it like my old ones XD)
“As so, you would like to know about me, eh? Well I'm afraid there is not too much to tell. I was born in late February of 1864. I believe my father almost fainted because my mum was in labor for at least six hours. I was told she screamed much throughout my birth. Father was delighted to find out that I would be his heir. I suppose the burden of having to have a son must of drove father mad. My grandfather was not easy on him before he passed. He pestered father to death from what I was told. I don't really know much else from that night other then my grandmother was one of the first to hold me, and my father refused to leave my mother's side after I was born....much to the displeasure of my grandmother and the staff I assure you.
The real fun started a year after I was born...when my little sister entered the world. I was still too young to remember the event, which is likely a good thing...but father didn't leave mum's side during the entire thing. I was told he ev'n passed out. Doesn't surprise me at all. Though father flat out deny's the whole incident. My father has always been very stubborn. He didn't like any one to even attempt to tell him not to do something. I think the only one who can get away with growling at him is mum. And that is only because he adores her. My parents have been all lovey dovey since they were married. Mom told me they were actually planning on running away together if father's parents didn't approve of their match. Mother was born into a middle class family but she was accepted into ours surprising easily,
My memories start around the age of five. My little sister was attempting to put on mother's powder. I remember walking into her room and seeing her with mum's stuff. My sister looked horrified and put her fingers up to her lips. I laughed and ran through the house to tell mother. I was a little evil to my little sister back then. Which she pays me back now in ten fold....unfortunately for me. Much to my dismay mum was not nearly as angry with Dove as I had hoped. Pretty sure my wee sis could get away with anything if she really wanted to.
The next biggest memory didn't really occur until I was ten. The neighbor came over to visit me but ended up flirting with my sister. I know his mother was attempting to teach him to be 'charming' and all but frankly it ticked me the 'ell off. Bloody hell that’s my baby sister. I may not of been old then, but when it comes to my little sister I take no prisoners. I don't like anyone hitting on her...or going near her. In my eyes there is not a soul good enough for her, which is fine from me. I couldn't stand the idea of her crying over some chap? Then how am I supposed to explain to my father if I have to beat the bugger into a bloody pulp?
I won't lie, I had no idea what magic was when I was eleven. Mum and dad hide it very well from us. When I got my letter I was utterly confused. I thought I'd be sent off to some boarding school somewhere for lads my age but instead I was going to study magic? Something I was always told didn't really exist in the world. It was fascinating and terrifying at the same time. Mum later explained that she would prefer not to do magic in front of everyone due to all the staff. Some of them were what she called “muggles” she told me I'd understand the term better after I joined school.
My first day was utterly terrifying. I had to cross a bloody lake on a bloody boat! A boat! It was a nightmare! Scared the heck out of me. Motion sickness bothered me fairly easily when I was younger. I remember standing before the class, the terrified feeling didn't go away. I knew so very little about the world I was about to enter. Mother and father refused to give much details which only made it worse. I wanted to vomit the moment the hat called my name. But when I realized everyone was staring at me, I put on my best fake smile and walked to the hat. The thing started to squirm around on my head which almost made me yell. Thank god I bit my tongue. The thing squirmed more, told me I was bright, clever, witty, a little insane, and a bit....creative. But the words were all inside my head, I know the hat wasn't talking out loud. Which made the whole thing all the more confusing. When it did speak “Ravencalw” escaped it. And everyone cheered.
Regardless to how insane my first day of school was, I actually enjoyed my first year. I met my a few really great friends, caught a tree on fire and best of all, I began my first painting lessons via a private tutor named Eliza who seemed to see things in me I didn't understand. She mentioned that she couldn't help but notice my sketches I made in my free time, and how neat my hand writing was. She explained farther that she wanted to see just where my creativity lied. She began to teaching me how to sketch, by end end of the year I was just learning how to paint. Eliza was a second year lower class girl with a father as a painter. But she saw things in me I didn't understand, so when I went home that summer I began to sketch more, but only in my free time, outside of prying eyes.
Second year really wasn't that eventful. My little sister made Ravenclaw, and...I hit someone in the arm with one of my books, ended up serving my first detention. Other then that the biggest thing of that year was continuing with my painting lessons. I was painting stills. I was seeing lines in places I didn't normally think about. I was noticing the small things about people, tents of darkness under their eyes representing lack of sleep....just strange things that I knew made me stranger then most children of my age. I knew painting made me different then most kids, but it fascinated me. Colors fascinated me. The way I saw the world...it was slowly starting to change.
My 3rd year of school had its ups and downs. First off, my drawing and painting was going amazing but the more time I spent I realized I more then liked her as a friend....she was becoming my crush. She had a boyfriend, she was older then me, and lower class. Our worlds didn't mesh. She wasn't for me and knowing that was like a stab to the gut. School was becoming a little intense. Friends were always fighting. Drama seemed to be starting at every turn and not to mention my classes were making my head spin. My only escapes were running....and painting. It was that year I started with human subjects. But with parts first. Hands, faces....in some cases legs. Legs I found were annoying to paint.
Fourth and fifth year were utterly boring. All I seemed to do was paint and do homework. I hardly had time for anyone.....now. The summer I turned sixteen I remember clearly. I met Elda, a friend of my mother's. She was younger then mum. One and twenty but unmarried. She had flaming red hair and bewitching green eyes. During one of my mother's fancy....parties, Elda cornered me against a wall and kissed me...then proceeded to drag me to the empty library. I learned there about my body....and a woman's. Elda had interesting tastes....very dominant and interesting. Fascinating creature. But those details are a little bit much to put down here in writing. Shall we just say it was a rather lovely night?
I didn't realize that being sixteen would get me so much attention. It started with Elda but it didn't seem to stop. Mother began to really dress me up each time we went out, like she was prepping me for the marriage market. It was rather frightening. I felt like they were a 'for sale' sign posted to my head. Rather bothersome actually. I began to morph how I spoke when I was thirteen, by sixteen I almost completely managed to mask my Scottish accent. It was father's idea that people not realize where we were from. I think he was sick of people always questioning him about Scotland.
Before I knew what was happening, school was starting up again. And this time....it was far for interesting for me. I craved....to pain women. I craved to paint them more intimately. With less clothes...with only their corsets. I found myself drawing random strangers when I was outside, sketching their profile, then returning to the privacy of my room for work out finer details, and let my imagination free. I feel bolder, more empowered then ever before. People my own age don't seem to know much...they seem to carefree. They seemed to want different things.
Eliza dumped her boyfriend that year as well. Which made things far more complicated. I realized quickly that my imagination wasn't good enough for my painting. I needed to see.....I needed to dare. I asked Eliza to pose for me. I truly thought she was going to slap me at first, but she did as I asked. She was my very first subject. She posed for me wonderfully...with clothing...much to my dismay, but it was a first. I positioned just the way I needed to. The painting was amazing. I owed all of it to her. The end of that year I felt miserable. Eliza was to graduate, leaving me alone. My chest hurt, my eyes threatened to water, and for the first time in my life I felt sorrow. I felt like I was losing a piece of me. It was a depressing end of the year. Saying goodbye was terrible. We were from two different worlds. Watching her walk away was the hardest moment of my life, and I have yet to see her since.
That summer, my life felt like it was thrown into a maze, and it was being pulled into every which direction. I had to chase away at least three guys interested in my baby sister, which disturbed me. Father was away often due to his own personal business. Mother spent most of her time prepping my sister and I for the 'real world' or balls and way too much gossip. Why did women bother so much with fickle things. Mum spent so much time teaching me to dance that is was growing irritating. Much to my dismay I'm not a bad dancer. To with every ball I go to, she makes it a point to take me out on the dance floor. I feel like someone's doll on display. That's hardly manly of me to feel that way.
So, finally, that last well awaited final year of school. Seventh year. I excelled at potions, charms, and strangely enough, muggle studies. I seemed to really suck at herbology, though I managed to slide through with a decent grade. I didn't paint much that year....since Eliza I almost lost my muse to do so. It was rather horrid. It wasn't the same without her around. She inspired me to try new things, be more myself. And she was gone. That was up until close to the end of the year, Josephine Willan caught me starring at her out by the forest. A bold creature, black hair, strange gray eyes, and a bold temper. She caught me sketching....talk about embarassing.
Joe offered to pose for me. I think she liked seeing herself as I saw her. Stunning, sexy, alluring. So I set up there in the forest.....Joe was the first one who posed in only her corset. Let me tell you that was highly complicated to talk her into it. She looked unsure but I can be very....persausive when I want to be.
So. Graduation has came and went. I've drawn a few....what do I call them? Common dollymop's are rather boring. I want an adventure. Something different. Truth be told....I want to draw a virgin. One of those precious women my mother seeks to marry me off to. But I have to pretend its not me. I was plotting on maybe putting a blindfold on them so they don't know who I am...slowly convince them that striping for me is the best option....perhaps I can get the poses I really desire then. There is so much risk of exposure, the challenge. It's thrilling to me. I can mask my voice. I've hidden my accent for so long I'm sure no one would recongize my true voice. Being myself....yet still hidden. Should be interesting.
So now I'm asking myself...why am I writing this in a jourmal? I've never kept one before. Perhaps I needed to vent....maybe I could burn you? Perhaps....”
Gaven clearly sees things his own way. He is carefree but completely rebellous in his own way. He loves his sister dearly but wants to strangle his mother at times. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life, all he knows is painting sets him free. His hormones are insane....so his paitning is getting a little...wild. Gaven can be utterly sweet and kind to everyone. He cares about others, and he is very overprotective of his friends. He loves a good challenge and craves to have fun as most young men his age do.Sample Roleplay Post:
O.O Do I have to? Lol I've been here for ages XDOOC: Name:
yeahoo, msn skype....anything reallyOther Characters:
several but the only active one atm is Alyxiana DalwaineHow did you hear about us?