Name: Nathaniel Hudson Dorsett
Age: Eighteen
Bloodline: Mudblood

Physical Appearance:

Having hit a growth spurt when he was around fifteen, Nathaniel hasn’t quite lost that awkwardness to his limbs and torso that accompanies a growth spurt. So now, rather than being stocky and muscular like other guys his age that he knows, he’s a bit slender from his shoulders down. He’s grown into his current height of five-foot-eleven now, though he still has a tendency to feel a little awkward. But his slender frame is a slight reason why he doesn’t wear tight pants or anything like that – he has what some would classify as ‘chicken legs’, and the pants aren’t really all that comfortable, truth be told. Shouldn’t everything be a bit...loose down there? That’s always been his view when it comes to that, at least, and you’ll seldom find him in anything other than a good, scruffy pair of jeans. His shirts have seen better days, as well, and most have a faded look to them that hasn’t been bought straight from a store. Shouldn’t shirts be new and fresh and clean and not faded when you first buy them? Yeah, that’s what he thought, too.

Atop his head is a mass of hair. If he lets it go for too long, it grows fast and wild. Usually it’s a mess and he seldom ever does anything to straighten it out unless it’s required of him for formal occasions. Otherwise, it looks like it does when he gets up every morning – tousled with sleep and poking every which way. It curls over his ears and stops just short of his eyebrows on good days, and hangs into his eyes every other day. A quick head shake nearly always takes care of that. His eyes are a dark brown, a feature he inherits from his father, and are the best thing to look at when you’re looking for emotions from him. The pupils dilate a little when he’s angry and they expand a little when he’s surprised, just to briefly describe how betrays himself a bit when he doesn’t want people to know what he’s thinking. There are various other ways to read them, of course, for they seem to darken on certain occasions, narrow on others, and appear to gain depth other times.

As is typical during the spring and summertime, his skin tone is a shade darker than what he considers to be his normal. He’s an outdoorsy sort of person, so it’s only natural; in the winter, it fades but the skin that you would see in the summer is hidden under sweatshirts and various other clothing that’s appropriate for the season. Comfortable clothes take precedence over a lot with Nathaniel, and it’s always suited him just fine.

Personality:

When Nathaniel was younger, he was adventurous. He was always doing something, or always trying to do something, or always battling something in the backyard at his parent’s house. Invisible dragons, anyone? Yeah, he killed about three hundred of those in a week, thank you very much. But as he got older, he’s mellowed out a bit. Okay, so he’s only mellowed out in that area a little, and only in the past year and a half. No, there was no particular reason to it, no death in the family or anything like that. Just a personal revelation that maybe he shouldn’t be so very childish about absolutely everything and thus so annoying. Nowadays, he isn’t up to nearly as much as he used to be, but there’s still the occasional something going on within his circle of friends where it’s easy to pin the blame on him. Do his friends mind? No, not typically, not unless it gets a bit carried away. But that’s how teenage guys are supposed to be.

Speaking of carried away, that’s happened once or twice. Maybe he traveled too far into the Forest before and found himself running from some beasties, or maybe he found himself in a spotty situation for sticking up for a friend, such as at the end of a wand that wasn’t all that friendly. Did he mind it all that much? No, because there was consolation in the fact that nothing bad enough could happen to him that Pomfrey couldn’t fix; that woman is like some machine that will probably never need to be fixed in its lifetime.

But within his circle of friends, he’s social and someone that people find themselves going to for a bit of sound advice. Does he like the role? No, not particularly, especially since he’s not entirely convinced they would return the favor for him. There’s also the fact that he doesn’t really like the concept of letting people in so far as that so that they know what he’s thinking or what he feels about a situation or whatever the instance his – perhaps he has a bit of trust issues, and that actually sounds pretty accurate. He’s a friendly person to just about anyone, however, even Slytherins until they’ve proven that they don’t especially deserve it. That’s about when he can turn as cold and distant as they.

As you’ve probably gathered, Nathaniel isn’t an emotional person. He prefers blank masks to readable expressions and doesn’t like to talk much just to fill silence. He’ll talk if he has something of value to say, of course, or if he feels a faint obligation to say something, but he prefers not to. Perhaps he’s just funny that way, but it can’t really be helped. It’s programmed into his DNA, he swears. He does like to have fun, though, and if you know him, you know this. He’ll make jokes, he’ll do funny things, and make sarcastic comments that have more humor to them than malice. Sometimes, it’s just to draw a smile from a complete stranger.

Character Background:

Alright, so this story begins sometime in mid-October after several hours of labor. Those several hours of labor would come to haunt Nathaniel for the rest of his life as his mother’s preferred way of making him feel guilt. The moment he wanted to do something she didn’t entirely approve of, the question “Do you know how long I was in labor with you?” will be posed to him, and his side of the argument will have been utterly lost before it had even had a chance to begin. He figures that’s just how mothers are, however – they can win arguments with their offspring in the blink of an eye without breaking a sweat. He’s tried hard to figure out a way around it, and has drawn up a complete blank; his mother is a sharp, sharp woman.

Despite this, however, the two have always had a close relationship. When he was younger, he heard some of his uncles that were talking with his father refer to him as a “mama’s boy”. He’d been young, yes, but not so young that he couldn’t understand what they meant. That was about the time that he was gaining interest in more interest in things that fathers and uncles expect their sons and nephews to get into – things that required getting a little scuffed up, or dirty, or both. About that time, he got interested into muggle sports, and grew curious as to why he seemed to have little difficulty with things such as football. He was not an athlete – therefore not very bulky – and not a runner, and seldom did what his coaches asked of him. And yet he was able to catch a football even if it was quite out of his reach. It was peculiar, but earned him a place as receiver more than once. It wasn’t until a gifted aunt and uncle of his saw him play once on a young team that they could hazard a guess at the odd circumstance.

A long, sit-down chat with Nathaniel’s parents ensued, and they only had a little longer to wait for any sort of acceptance letter from this so-called ‘magical’ school by a rather funny name due to the fact that his birthday was fast approaching. They were not disappointed and received the letter with various detailed instructions. His parents were a bit resistant at first, particularly his father who was rather adamant that he didn’t have a ‘freak’ in the family and that his son take over a family-run business, but it was his mother that softened him down. It seemed that that was how things always were in the household, and to this day Nathaniel can remember nothing different in his home. It seemed to him that he and his father were always going to agree – yes, cliché, he’s aware – and he’s pretty much resigned to that. Move away to America with other family, and he’ll be set.

Oh, yes, he has family in America and has spent many-a-summers visiting them there. It’s why his accent holds a bit of Americanism to it, if that makes sense. He prefers to spend time there more than at home, truth be told, for he adores his grandparents. And yes, their of his mother’s side. Perhaps that’s a hint, but he’s never said anything about it out loud.

Anyways – yes, he received his letter at the standard age, had a spat with his parents about it, found the spat resolved, and attended Hogwarts come next September. Does he still fight with his father? Of course. And now it’s only the occasional summer that he has a chance to spend with his grandparents, if, indeed, his parents agree to let him go. Thank goodness his last year is fast approaching, yes?

Special Request (available at Intermediate**) Invisibility Cloak
Desired House: Gryffindor
Roleplay Sample: RP sample from another site as another character

The Ravenclaw was quite bored with himself today, his thoughts unable to travel down chaotic avenues. He felt at peace, perhaps, and tired – something that he hadn’t felt for a century. Tiredness was not something that immortals bargained for, so the feeling was as irksome as it was new and foreign. Boredom held a very large part in this whole charade; he was dreadfully bored. He’d hunted recently, so he couldn’t even use that as an excuse to do something. Ivory was off goodness only knew where, and he hadn’t wasted the time to forge new friendships with anyone else. Ninety-five percent of the people within the castle walls didn’t hold an appeal to him at all – their thoughts, always, a good indicator – and the other five percent were just strange. That was a little hypocritical coming from a vampire, but the point remained that there wasn’t a soul in the castle save for one that held interest for him. And unless he was tormenting some poor, deserving soul, he would be laying here with his hands behind his head for the rest of eternity.

It was precisely what he was doing now. The sky overhead was overcast enough that he didn’t look a little suspicious in the sun, and the temperature was cooler; not many students would willingly want to wander out on a day like this, he figured, so he had. But the lakeside, too, was beginning to lose its appeal and it wasn’t long before he had righted himself and headed off towards Hogwarts. What he would do with himself there, he hadn’t the faintest idea. The library’s books had long since all been read, his common room was most likely empty, his homework had been done some time ago, the Room of Requirement was probably in use by some horny couple, and the Armour Gallery had been closed off for reasons unknown for awhile...He sighed in frustration to himself, running a hand through his already messy hair.

His knuckles tapped against the wall as he walked and, were he to look back, he would have seen small cracks and indentations where he had hit. He was more agitated than he realized, more restless than he had cared to note, and with nothing to take it all out on...well, it might not have bode well for the next person he ran into. He had wandered away from the rest of the castle’s corridors to one that was used much less often, most probably because the title held the word ‘forbidden’ before it. Whatever the case was, he didn’t care; he only cared to note that most students would be diverted from coming down this way for everlasting fear of the rules. He didn’t have that worry – he didn’t much care for rules anyways and with the endless time that he had, he supposed it was all for the best.

But when he heard a person down the hallway, he paused and, when his fist struck the wall again, a noticeable chunk fell from it. A frown etched itself deeper in his face and, as he continued forwards, the frown formed into a smirk. He recognized the unsavory person before him.

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