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 [H]Cameron Blackwood, benno's new boy :D
Ben! · 16 · 5th · · · 5"11
Hufflepuff Beginner
Awards: 5

Feb 6 2018, 06:21 PM   Link Quote
Name: Cameron Blackwood.
Age: Sixteen.
Year: Fifth.
Bloodline: Pureblood.
Do you have more than one character? If yes, did you get permission to make this one, and from which admin?: I do! Stells gave me permission <3

Personality: Cameron is soft around the edges, where most of the world is hard corners, he is a bruised individual floating through life. There are pieces of him that are sharp and cutting, because everyone has a pointy end somewhere, but they are lost amid a tide of warmth that he clings to, desperately trying to keep it inside. In a world that fights so hard to crush that softness and douse that warmth, Cameron persists with a quiet, careful vengeance.

Feelings are very big for Cameron, and they have always been since he was small. They are large and they seem to consume every part of him, and thus he seems to feel things harder than most. Words are like daggers, inflections, insinuations, they all seem to bog him down no matter what he is told, because he so heavily concerns himself with the wellbeing of others, and is obsessed with what people think of him. He wants more than anything to be a good person, but is betrayed by his own anxieties and guilt, betrayed by the few self-preserving things he does to keep himself afloat.

But, should anyone ask, Cameron always makes time for his friends and family. They are his muse, his meaning, because what else does he have, if not them? Then he would be stuck alone with himself, and that is the last place he wants to be. On his worst days, he is stuck with the howling in his head and nothing to block the sound from matching his pulse and consuming him. On his best days, it is a subtle background noise, and he can smile gently and walk into the sunshine without fearing that it will burn him to nothingness.

There are parts of Cameron that aspire to be more, but he feels that he always falls short. There is a sense that he constantly runs on limited amounts of energy, and expends himself to his limit daily, as he tries frequently to do better. Not for himself, but for friends that worry and mothers that touch his cheek and kiss his forehead and tell him he’s going to make a difference in the world. He wishes he could, and he’s resigned himself to try forevermore, even when everything seems like too much. Cameron aches to be braver and bolder, to take up more space in the world, but he so frequently shrinks and it is difficult to expand with so many people around you constantly.

He is sweet, in an aching sort of way. He’s sweet when he holds his friend’s hand, and when he hugs, and when he offers platonic cuddles because bodily contact is grounding, calming, wonderful. He’s sweet when he doodles on the corners of his notes, or leaves loving messages for his mothers to find, and he’s sweet when his concern creases the space between his brows. He’s sweet in his very existence, this boy. He tries very hard to make others happy, and in this, he continuously forgets about himself. Even though he has constantly been told to ask for help when he needs it, there's a hesitance somewhere, despite the love and care and honesty of his upbringing. Where that hesitance comes from, well... That is to be seen.

Cameron is like the fog that clings to the hillside, a gentle touch, soft and airy and floating. Fog is clouds, fog could have stayed way up in the sky and became a downpour but instead it fell gently from grace and landed here instead. In many ways, Cameron did the same. But what is yet to be seen is if he will evaporate in the sun, or stay where he is and continue to exist.

Character Background: Elizabeth Blackwood and Roksana Popov met after they had graduated- Elizabeth from Hogwarts and Roksana from Koldovstoretz, in a bar, both drunk and bruised from a protest they had both attended defending the rights of magical beings such as werewolves and vampires. Elizabeth, at the time, knew no better than anyone that the woman she was staring at across the bar (this woman full of mystery and sharp smiles and bruised, calloused fists) was a werewolf, and given their political opinions, neither of them seemed to care. They spent that night telling each other drunken tales in that bar, and when it closed, they went to Roksana’s dilapidated flat and collapsed into their bed and decided they loved each other.

It was interesting, falling in love with a stranger. Elizabeth sat on Roksana’s sagging old couch and ate yogurt and watched Roksana move through her environment, the messy, broken-down coldwater apartment in Leeds and slowly pieced it together. Two years after they got together, two years full of Roksana disappearing on full moon nights and coming back exhausted and smelling of woods in the morning, Elizabeth finally asked if she was a wolf. Roksana, her blonde hair messy, a speckle of mud on her cheek, her grey eyes full of edges that have never been sanded, replied; “Yes.” Elizabeth nodded, and that was all.

Another year went by, and the couple decided to have children. Or, a child. It should be noted that Elizabeth made the decision. Roksana was part animal, as far as her colleagues were concerned, but Elizabeth was much more fierce and had sharper teeth to bare. Wizarding orphanages in England are picky. The couple tried time and time again to adopt, but when they saw what Roksana was (and had always openly been,) they would slide the application to the discarded pile and refuse to look at it any longer.

Roksana talked long into the night about missing the cold Russian air, the snow piled in heaps, the way the flakes swirled and the sun shone on The Motherland Calls statue with her arms spread wide. Elizabeth stared out rain-spattered windows, sighed, and agreed to the question Roksana never asked. They moved.

In Russia, adopting was much less of a problem, and soon the couple was graced with a baby boy to love. Roksana suggested the name ‘Cameron,’ after Elizabeth’s brother, who had died in her childhood. Elizabeth kissed her, bold and fierce, as they left the orphanage with their quiet boy in their arms.

Cameron did not cry. From when they adopted him as a toddler, he did not cry, nor did he really speak. Elizabeth stayed up late reading parenting books whilst Roksana offered him toys and stared into his eyes (grey, like her own) and told him in small ways that quietness was okay. She brushed his dull brown hair and ran her calloused fingers over his and kissed his injuries away.

He hated leaving the house. He wanted to stay on the warm livingroom rug where it was safe, where he could lay on his belly and watch muggle VHS tapes that Roksana had found of wonderful movies full of love and adventure, so much that he didn’t have to leave to experience it. He read books, and he peered out of the window and watched cars drive by outside, and he sniffed and ate his mothers’ home cooking and shook, wide-eyed and terrified, when they tried to coax him to go to the grocer’s.

Cameron met Lena when he was young, because the next door neighbor’s parents had approached them with their young girl, mistified and lovely and sweet. Elizabeth had been ready to arm the battlements when Roksana smiled and agreed, and Cameron looked over his shoulder shyly, his eyes full of tears, as he wandered off with the neighbor girl. But, Lena was sweet, and it took him no time at all to get attached.

With her help, he got bolder, and he explored more. He tried, with shreds of guilt, not to notice the way Elizabeth glowed and almost cried when he chose to go outside. Cameron had sleep overs at the Utkina’s, and he never complained about their food (even if he was an extremely picky eater) and he never asked to have warmer blankets, even when his feet were cold.

He listened, with Lena, raptly about her brother and complained to his mothers that he wasn’t also going to muggle school. Roksana was perplexed, but Elizabeth was never one to tell her child he wasn’t allowed to learn, and so he was permitted to go with Lena. He learned with rapt attention, but the other kids made him nervous, and he stuck to Lena’s coat tails more often than not and tried not to be noticed.

As time went on, he grew out of this bit by bit. When he was eleven, his parents told him they would be moving. Heartbreak settled over him, but he did not cry. You see, his parents spent so long trying to keep them afloat- Roksana could only find work with heavy labor or at bars, and Elizabeth was constantly trying to climb the social ladder. But more often than not, they found themselves short on money, his parents explained. Leeds, they said, would be better off.

Cameron hugged Lena as tight as he could on the day they left, and waved goodbye to her parents as Elizabeth hugged them and Roksana shook their hands. (Roksana always kept affection to her wife and her son, you see, and he had always noticed this and pretended not to) then, they left.

He went to Hogwarts and painfully tried to make friends. During the holidays, he went home and didn’t leave their house much. His parents were struggling much less as Elizabeth had a good job and Roksana had picked up shifts at a bar where she made a half-decent wage. Cameron went to Hogwarts and tried to make friends, and he got good grades because he saw how hard his parents worked for him.

Lena came to Leeds with her family after two years. Cameron looked out the window of the Blackwood’s run-down house, the topmost bedroom, and watched the new neighbors move in. When he saw her, his mind wasn’t sure at first but his heart was. He dodged his mother on the stairs to run out the front door, down the street, and hug Lena fiercely.

Then, they went to Hogwarts together. Cameron cheered for Lena as she was sorted, because it was always easier to be loud for someone else. With her help, yet again, he began to branch out of himself and finally felt at home in this large castle.

The Sorting Hat is placed on your head. What are you thinking at that moment?: The entire school was looking at him, and their gazes felt like scorchmarks on his skin. He saw the way people looked at his mother and her scars, and he shifted in his seat, picking at his fingers as the hat was placed on his head. He wanted this over with at the same time that he wanted to be good, and be able to do this, and go to a good house. At the very end, he closed his eyes and thought; ’Please, somewhere good.’
Special Request (available at Novice**) maybe woofer

OOC Name: Ben!
Your Pronouns: He/him!
How did you find out about Wizarding Realm? Google!

I took a little journey to the unknown,
And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones.
I fucked with the forces that our eyes can't see,
Now the darkness got a hold on me.
Stells Artois · 16 · 6th · Viridian Guild · Pureblood · 5'11
Awards: 158

Feb 6 2018, 07:22 PM   Link Quote
the sorting hat is placed on your head, and after a few moments, it loudly calls out ...


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