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 Icarus St George
Stells The Steedle · 18 · 7th · ☀️ · Muggleborn · 5'9
Awards: 13

Feb 25 2018, 05:48 AM   Link Quote
Sorted on 25.02.18

Name: Icarus Sean St George
Age: 18
Year: 7th Year
Bloodline: Presumably Muggleborn

Appearance: Despite being arguably tall, Icarus St George isn’t an intimidating person at all. Nor is he impressive, or memorable… In fact, he’s just… there. Like those enjoyable and calm summer afternoons. And almost as if he he were born of summer itself, perhaps the most noticeable thing about him is that unmistakable amber gaze – that which under sunlight seems to shine of a thousand warm shades. His pale blond hair is often longer than what it should be, messy, almost as if constantly being victim of the effects of breeze, although of course, such is not a thing that bothers him. Calm, unbothered and unconcerned, Icarus is not the kind of person who seems to put much thought to his appearance, his smile always looking so terribly content even when wearing a uniform’s greys.


First things first: yes, his mother really did name him Icarus.

Second things second: no, he has no intention of flying too close to the sun, but he’ll laugh if anyone asks, because it's not like he has heard such a mocking question about a million times over the course of his life...

Let’s be realistic here for a second…of course he has. Names aren’t supposed to define a person, but with a name like Icarus, comments were always bound to come. He doesn’t mind it all that much now, at least not as much as what he did when he was a child, often requesting to be called by nicknames such as Russ, or even Ike. Yet, while there was mocking and there was teasing, he never was one to let himself be bothered by said acts – such being an attitude that seems to keep on prevailing throughout his life. He always laughs. Not mockingly, not teasingly, but with the soft and gentle sound of a genuine and gleeful laugh, as if the whole world is just one big joke only he understands. And, who knows, maybe it is just that.

Does he see the world in some unique perspective? Is he different from all other teenage wizards? No, not really. After all, is anyone ever really unique or different? Sure, everyone has their own personality, their own things they like to do and things they hate, but considering oneself special or even unique because of this is a bit...condescending, or at least it is in Icarus’ most humble perspective. He has no need to be unique, nor does he have a particular interest in it, as Icarus St George doesn’t believe there’s anything wrong with being just like everyone else. It could be called conformism, laziness, or even a boring way to see life as a whole, yet the simple truth is that he’s perfectly content with the person he is, and he finds no enjoyment in striving to be anything more. Does that mean he’s proud? That he’s arrogant? Egocentric or even self-absorbed? Of course not. Icarus has his insecurities and concerns just like everyone else, but none of that seems to bother him enough to even attempt changing himself.

He exists under the philosophy of living life at its best extent; doing all the things he considers to be fun and enjoyable; whether that is singing or laying down under the sun for a whole day. He likes swimming as much as he enjoys just floating around in a pool, and while he’s not particularly talented when it comes to Quidditch or any other sport, ever since he discovered he was a wizard, he has found joy in riding brooms. On the other hand, music does seem to come much easier, always being one to whisper lyrics and hum tunes, instruments never being much of his interest aside from the piano he began learning when he was only six years old. Then again, none of this means that he’s particularly prodigious or talented at any of the things he does, his skill for most being the result of effort, practice and dedication, as he can be incredibly diligent when it comes to the things that bring him joy. And that’s exactly the point. It’s all for the sake of joy, for the sake of laughter, for the sake of bringing smiles to the faces of those who matter to him the most.

To Icarus, friendship is one of life’s greatest joys. He adores people: meeting them, talking to them, getting to know them, and becoming friends. There’s no particular reason for it, no great explanation behind such a fact or hidden meaning for the way he acts. He is honest, he has always been, as much as he has always been sociable, prone to laughter, and polite. Perhaps, it’s also because of this honesty that he so easily develops an interest in others, that he can become infatuate, crushes coming and going as often as short yet meaningful relationships have. After all, to Icarus, in one way or another, there’s always importance to everything...

Character Background:

The life of Icarus St George has never really been impressive at all.

He doesn’t know if his family has some rich and proud history, and he doesn’t care to find out. It has always been him and his mother, and while he sometimes wonders about all those family members he has never met – his father, his grandparents, and all other relatives as such – he long ago learned that it was better not to ask. The truth is, even if he did ask, his mother never truly knew how to reply.

Emilia St George was twenty-four years old when she moved to the city of Bath. Having lived in middle class neighborhood of Bristol all of her life, the few years before her “grand move” were spent juggling her time between a part-time job and school – what one would call an average life. She never had any aspirations to leave the city, it was simply one of those things that just happened, all the result of landing herself a job at no other place than the University of Bath – Student Admission Officer, nothing overly impressive, but it paid her bills just fine. Did she love it? Not really, nor did she hate it, but she did enjoy living in Bath. After all, moving to a new city is always fun, specially for a girl in her early twenties with no specific plans for her life.

She had always been the kind of person to believe in letting things happen as they were meant to. Perhaps it wasn’t the best life philosophy to have, but it was hers, and she was content with that. For two years, life was fine. She had a good job, multiple friends, had just paid her down payment for nice semi-detached house, and had even met a nice guy at a coffee shop not far from work. Truly, it was almost like a perfect romcom kind of life. Until, of course, things started to go not so fine. Sometimes, unexpected events happen in life, such as pregnancies, and having a boyfriend who decides to ditch town instead of helping with the child – what a jerk, right? Not like Emilia really blamed him, she was always too nice for that. And so it was that, at the short age of twenty-six, Emilia St George became a single mom.

Icarus, she named the child, for no other reason than that she always thought the story was nice – sad, but nice – and while raising a child alone was certainly something she had never foreseen, it was fine. How could she not love her son? As Emilia would often say: Icarus was the best thing that had happened in her life. Sure, she was busy with work, and her job didn’t pay well enough for her to give her son all the luxuries she wished she could have given him in life, but somehow, she managed, because that was what she had always done. She worked hard, and Icarus spent much of his early years at the home of her friends, with babysitters or in daycare, but those moments he got to spend with his mother were the ones most treasured by the child.

They would do all kinds of: go swimming, go to the park, watch all sort of silly cartoon movies, and go on short trips out of town from time to time. They even adopted a cat! Every spare moment Emilia had, no matter how tired she was, she dedicated to her child. Of course, because of this, Icarus was also bound to grow up being overly conscious of how hard his mother worked, soon beginning to do whatever he could to lighten the burden, like making her breakfast from time to time (even if such breakfast was merely milk and cereal, as what else could be managed by a eight year old child?). He went to school, had friends, average grades, and everything was fine. Except for those times it was not. Except for those rare moments when it was painfully obvious that Icarus wasn’t just some normal child...like the one time he cried about not finding his favourite push toy until a few seconds later it appeared right in his hands.

Emilia always dismissed it, pretended it was nothing, that she was seeing things thanks to some silly trick of her tired mind. She knew that wasn’t true, yet even knowing as much didn’t make it any easier to accept the truth. It happened on the summer of Icarus’ eleventh birthday, a couple of months before it was time to return to school, on a saturday morning that was all too uneventful until someone knocked at the St George’s door. A middle aged woman, dressed in dark clothes and a pointy hat that made Icarus think of the costume one of his best friends had worn last Halloween. She was a professor, she said, and also a witch, and apparently, Icarus was a wizard too. He had laughed. Emilia had too. But it was no joke, and that took quite a lot of questions to actually make sense for both the woman and the boy. “Cool!” Icarus finally exclaimed, although Emilia didn’t think it was a cool at all. Then again, how could she possibly say no? She knew that the professor was right, that Icarus needed to go to that school in such a distant place, and at least there was the consolation that there were no tuition fees to pay. It seemed too good to be true, and as the date of her son’s departure approached, she grew more and more wary, even if Icarus seemed so very excited about it all.

They went to Diagon Alley, a wand was purchased, a uniform books, a cauldron, and even a pet to take to the school. One overly expensive shopping trip and Icarus looked just like any other wizard to be. That was the easy part, the exciting part, as while Icarus had never been an overly fearful boy, it wasn’t easy to leave his mother, promising to write her a letter every single day as soon as he got to the school. He did. Without failure. Every single day for the 7 years of his magical education. His days were busy with classes and friends and all sort of activities, but every night he would write a letter, and every morning he would go to the Owlery before breakfast to send it. Until, on the morning of his first NEWT, he didn’t. Because he wasn’t at the school.

The fact was that Icarus St George didn’t show up for any of his NEWTs, and when it was time to give explanations, none came, soon finding himself in seventh year for the second time in a row. When asked about it, he just smiles, because truly, what can he say to justify something like that?



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