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loveandwarrpg · 9 years ago

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RAVENCLAW ♦ 7TH YEAR ♦ PUREBLOOD ♦ NEUTRAL

* Note: This character is non-binary and uses he/him pronouns. These pronouns can be changed by the applicant.

He was born for war, he was born for brigades and scarlet formations and war rooms elevated beyond the blood-soaked fields. Silas Fawley was born swathed in red silk, a streak of blood smeared down his forehead by a mudang shaman. There was a sense of enormous ceremony to his birth, great prophecies following his arrival like armoured hawks and black hippogriffs. He would not be a warrior, but a commander. Like his father before him, who was leading Korean forces against the invaders of their homeland, he would be trained to be ruthless, quick-minded, detached. Raised in a palace built away from the realm of muggles, he came to dedicate every waking moment of his childhood towards self-improvement. He learnt to write in graceful calligraphy, count with an abacus; he read legends of war and accounts of annexation, studying philosophies of ancient and contemporary philosophers alike. He developed a cold calculation beneath the jurisdiction of his father, who had brought Western military tactics to the East when he had moved their family back into their ancestral home in Seoul (or, as the invaders called it, Keijō). For centuries, the Fawleys had been puppeteers of both East and Western worlds, always the Ministry’s ghost politicians or the king’s advisers, the shadows in the dark who influenced the ploys which were played out in the light. But Silas’ father hoped for better: he was the first of his line who had stepped fully into the day, brandishing his wand as a sword, wearing armour of dragon-gold. His name was the first to be appreciated in its entirety – beyond being like royalty, beyond their bloodline, he was the people’s hero. The courtyards of their home were always filled with subordinates reporting for instruction, warhorses and griffins being led for inspection, and screeching birds of prey carrying messages of friendship and foe alike. In many ways, the sounds of war became the music which Silas was reared to.

Nonetheless, he was not entirely glad of it. He was skilled in martial arts and other forms of quick, agile training; but he had never felt himself to be the same as the other warlord sons. There was a disconnect that he felt, it permeated him acutely. He did not crave war or gunpowder, he did not relish what it entailed: he relished what it brought. Power, influence, fame – but the latter, he did not want either, not really. While his father was a hard man, all rigid lines and a booming voice; he was more effeminate, more sleek, more sly – a weasel in a palace of coyotes, a snake in the stack of military issue wands. He wished for power, yes, but he wished to gain it by being the skeleton puppeteer, the hidden voice, the face in the mirror: overtly in control, playing mindgames without fear of imminent danger. There was something enormously appealing, to learning how to push the right buttons, touch upon the right wounds, dig his teeth in and his claws through: watching human beings do his bidding like animals being herded by a wolf, with silent but genuine terror. War tactics, he learnt, were merely creative ways of justifying murder. What after all, was war, but a massive game of chess? Pieces died to protect the king, they fell from the sky and rushed towards the ground in black hoards, to ensure that their leader lived on. It was a disease overtaking the world: first Asia, then Europe, and with every year, beyond. He was ten years old when he was sent to live with the Rowles in Britain, to be introduced to the ways of the Western elite. He did not fit in among them, all those savage Lestranges and Notts, all those viciously biased Blacks and Carrows. Blood supremacy was something he knew of, but did not dedicate himself to. In the countryside of his home, where sprawling palaces still lay hidden from muggle sight and cities filled the the brim with desolation, the muggles had always been irrelevant to him, impersonal specters. He did not have time nor energy to spare on hating them, pursuing them.

Hogwarts in its entirety was a far better target. He was shrewd, he was spurious, he was sculpted in the image of Grecian gods and philosopher-lords, and their millenniums of war and stratagem filled his lungs. He stepped into those halls, barely orientated to the full scope of European culture, and immediately began his campaign of conquest. Dramatic as it seemed; wasn’t it true? He aspired to be the right-hand person to the Minister of Magic, and there were so many ambitious students who he could learn from, eat whole, suck dry. Yet as time progressed, he grew more and more enamored by the idea of being in the spotlight itself. A skilled orator, he had a penchant for languages; English was easy, and with it came French, German, Russian. Those, along with the Eastern languages – Korean, Chinese, and Japanese, it seemed natural that Silas be destined towards a job in government, a high ranking one at that. His stellar grades were evidence enough of his prowess, but even beyond a report card, was the sense that he held a grand secret in his palm, the idea that he could tear you down with both hands tied behind his back. People were wary of him. He made them uneasy. As he rose through Hogwarts, his father continually pushed his ambitions, urging him to consider a future of prominence, writing letters to inform him of the continued strife in Korea against the Grindelwald-ruled Japanese. “If you truly want a challenge, 내 아들, end this war and start one of your own design.” Ironic, but ingenious: for he and Silas both knew that without war, without challenge, minds like theirs were wasted to mundanity. Slowly, Silas become more comfortable with the idea of this: displacing the king, only to raise his own banners. Raised on principle, reared in discipline – all those underhanded games of manipulation were merely stepping stones on the stairway to success. He’ll touch your cheek with one hand and stab you in the back with the other. Blood can wash out of everything, with the right spell. After all, the ends justify the means.

CONNECTIONS

FRIENDS: Calla Parkinson, Damien Rowle, & Ariadne Greengrass INTERESTS: The Knights of Walpurgis COMPETITION: Kitty Shafiq, Corvus Rosier, & Abraxas Malfoy

DAMIEN ROWLE

Silas and Damien can be said to be close friends, even makeshift brothers of a kind - but despite how SIlas spends his summers at the Rowle residence, it seems that Damien is drifting away by the year, becoming more withdrawn and secretive. Silas is aware of Damien’s on-and-off interest in the dark arts (an interest that is really just a guise for needing familial approval, in his opinion), a desire that he doesn’t approve of. He is under the impression that the two of them can collaborate on a path to great success following graduation, without the shadow of juvenile incrimination on their names. With the amount of misfortune which has already fallen upon Damien, there is no need for them to experience more.

CALLA PARKINSON

They refuse to consider each other friends, but insist upon a less familiar but equally potent term: allies. Beyond their usual matches of wit and sly banter, they do make a good pair, after all. They feed each other information in exchange for information – all the better to fuel their own games and drive their own ambitions. Though he would never say so, he’s pleased by her support of his ventures, and hopes that in the future their mutually beneficial relationship may be brought over into the political world, assuming that both of them make it there with the rest of the sharks.

CORVUS ROSIER

Kitty Shafiq may be the one vocally proclaiming her plans to annex Britian and turn it into Khalilahland, but she’s little more than a joke in Silas’ eyes. The true competition lays in Slytherin house, where he very well may have ended up if things went differently (and perhaps at times, he still wishes that they had). Corvus Rosier has far more connections in the West than Silas does, and with that impressive resume of his, along with his ties to the house of Malfoy – well, to say that Silas considers him a threat is an understatement. Once, they were friends. Now, finding ways sabotage and destroy one another at every turn, they can only be the worst of rivals. There’s only one path to success, only one position to at the top – and Silas will do anythingto ensure that he’s sitting there before Corvus is.

SILAS IS PORTRAYED BY LEE SOOHYUK & IS OPEN

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