Vasilica, Araziel Léon

[Araziel Léon Vasilica]

ARAZIEL|LÉON|VASILICA

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IT’S A LIE SHE’S BEEN CARRYING AROUND
IT’S THE LIE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN

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Name: Araziel Léon Vasilica
Nickname: N/A
Age/Birthday: Appears late teens/early 20s // December 12th, 1810
Gender: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Blood Status: Mixed; more muggle blood than wizarding blood
Affiliation: Neutral
Year/House: 7th/Gryffindor
Wand: Rosewood // 12 inches // Acromantula claw

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TAKES PRIDE IN APPEARANCE
AND THE JOB IN HAND

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Eyes: Grey
Hair: Auburn
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 148 lbs.

Distinguishing Features(if any):[/b] Araziel usually has several recent burn marks or older burn scars on his fingers and hands from his culinary adventures in the kitchen. He’s the sort who’ll handle hot food, dishes, and pans with his bare hands despite the burns that follow.

Also of note are the slightly pointed canines. He had to inherit some vampiric traits from his father.

Play-by: Yuuji Kamijou (Yes, same as Lucien, but they’re related, the photoshoots are radically different, and … well they’re both my characters hehe.)

Overall appearance:

Araziel stands at just below six feet even with a lithe, slim figure. He moves with confidence but not arrogance; however just on observation alone, one can tell that he is very comfortable in his body and almost effortlessly graceful in his movements. His skin is of a mildly creamy peach graced just barely by the sun; nonetheless, due to his vampiric nature, he does not dwell under the sun’s rays for too long.

His hair is of a dark blond hue, falling almost to chin length and usually mildly styled in some manner or another. His grey eyes are gentle but earnest, set into his pale visage beneath delicately arched (and groomed!) brows. Indeed, his ethnicity is extremely difficult to determine based upon his features and cannot really be categorized, but it is evident that he takes care of his appearance to the point that he has often been labeled as homosexual (though uh … he’d prefer metrosexual if that had to be debated …) Regardless, he does bear a striking resemblance to his father, Lucien. Though often difficult to immediately spot the similarity with their facial features (perhaps due to the age gap and radically different hairstyles), upon closer inspection, it turns out to be very, very evident.

Clothing is an entirely different matter; it’s difficult to say where anything he wears was inspired from, though based upon his upbringing one would assume that much of his apparel is some form of an interpretation of period fashion, possibly Georgian or Regency. Still it is nothing ‘by the book,’ and he has a flair for outlandish things. His favorite outfits usually consist of heavily pleated frock coats to knee or ankle level with plenty of extravagant trim and feathers, chains and corsages … But of course he can go corporate-appropriate ‘elegant aristocrat’ too.
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IT’S THE SIMPLE FLAW
THE MIND FORGETS TO LOOK FOR

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Erised: The end of his family’s ages-old war.
Patronus: Swan
Boggart: His mother Clarisse, somehow alive.
Dementor: The morning Léon passed away.

Amortentia:

× Sautéeing garlic and onions – it’s the first step in many improv dishes!
× Genmai cha – he drank it every morning during his residence in Osaka.
× Chocolate – a base for his favorite pastries.

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THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T SEE
AND THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR

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Likes:

× Cooking & baking
× Pan au chocolat
× Martial arts, particularly jiujutsu
× Snow
× Feathers
× EGA fashion
× Potions
× Fuzzy animals
× Hot springs
× Beaches
× Camping
× Valeri’s stories
× Lucien’s music
× Camilla’s paintings
× Diagon Alley

Dislikes:

× Cheap food (fast food)
× Bad cooking
× Enclosed spaces
× Driving muggle cars
× Other people driving muggle cars
× Staying in the house all day
× Close-minded people
× Colds (can’t taste anything!)
× Classism
× Being mistakenly labeled as homosexual
× Politics
× The uncaring bureaucracy
× Laziness
× Passive-aggressiveness
× Unwarranted authority
× Incompetence

Strengths:

× Charismatic
× Witty
× Brave
× Friendly
× Takes initiative
× Gastronomically talented
× Accomplished martial artist

Weaknesses

× Confrontational
× Stubborn
× Sometimes too trusting
× Impatient
× Mischievous
× Lofty aspirations
× A bit abrasive

Overall Personality: Witty, sharp, cheerful, outgoing; these are just a few words that could be used to describe Araziel. He loves to meet new people and has no quarrel with striking up conversation with all but the most frustrating or standoffish of individuals, and even then he’ll try his best to be friends with them too. That’s not to say he doesn’t understand that some people just don’t click … but that’s fine with him; he’ll back off when he knows it’s appropriate. Regardless, he’s excellent at maintaining a wide network of friends and associates; he’s been doing it for decades, after all. He’s also very hospitable (especially when it comes to food) and he even takes it upon himself to look after his father and half-brother at times, especially when they won’t do the job themselves.

While Araziel might be friendly, however, that doesn’t mean he’s naïve or stupid. It takes a certain amount of intuition to understand people after all. While he has his ditzy moments like anyone else, overall he’s pretty observant and a fast learner. The one thing he just can’t get though is Transfiguration … but he’s good at potions because to him it’s kind of like cooking! … only it usually doesn’t taste that good.

If one were to ask him about his hobbies, Araziel would first answer that he loves to be in the kitchen. Second? That he loves to punch things in the face. Well, not always. Usually that’s not necessary because you see, there’s always the jaw or the solar plexis (the best target!) or even with a bit of leverage, strength isn’t necessary if one finds the right place to apply pressure and …

Mkay, basically, cooking and martial arts. What? The two are hardly related, but alas they are his greatest interests, though of course the former is more easily exhibited and shared. The latter is … usually only for when the time calls for it. As such, it won’t be a surprise to find Araziel wandering around passing out cookies or some fresh bread he’s baked that morning. He can cook for himself of course, but culinary work is no fun if it isn’t shared. Still, cooking amongst other things makes him a pretty self-sufficient guy, but it’s not just sustenance: it’s art!

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IT’S THE CRACKING OF THE GLASS
THE HAUNTING OF YOUR PAST

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Family:

NUCLEAR FAMILY:

Clarisse Vasilica – Mother
Léon Vasilica – ‘Adopted’ father
Lucien Narcisse Séraphin – Biological father
Valeri d’Aoust – Half-brother

EXTENDED FAMILY:

Camilla Adelais Delacroix – Aunt
Valentina d’Aoust – Stepmother (It’s … complicated.)
Edmond Ivon d’Aoust – Step-Uncle (That’s also complicated.)

For details of family, see Lucien’s bio.

Pets: Lafayette, a tabby cat.
Residence: Paris, France
History:

Araziel was the result of Lucien’s liaison with a certain French countess, Clarisse Vasilica. There was really no established ‘affair’ in this case (read: one night stand) and as such, once Araziel’s mother began to display the signs of pregnancy, there was no existing evidence to suggest another man was involved … and thus it was easily assumed that the child was a legitimate one. Léon, Clarisse’s husband, never suspected anything (…but then again he never suspected a lot of things).

As an infant, Araziel certainly displayed some very odd tendencies. He liked to hit things. Well, okay, plenty of children did. But Araziel also liked to bite things. Hard. Hard enough to make them bleed. This behavior was rather troubling, but surprisingly just after a couple of months, said behavior suddenly stopped. The household was grateful, but nobody knew it was simply because Lucien had, by chance, caught word of Araziel’s birth and had investigated the matter himself, suspecting it was his child. He discovered the vampiric tendencies that the infant Araziel displayed upon sneaking into the Vasilica estate one night, and for a while thereafter he took it upon himself to make nightly visits to bring the vampire fledgling proper sustenance … in the form of blood of course.

Araziel was naturally completely unaware of how strange this ‘procedure’ was. He was only a child after all! But with the worst vampiric tendencies quelled, he grew up pretty normally. After he could walk, his favorite pastime was hanging around the kitchen, enticed by the delicious scent of cooking food, especially sweets. The household maids found his behavior ridiculously adorable and by five he was the little assistant chef, running around the kitchen mixing this and fetching that. More often than not he would be found wandering the house covered with flour.

Because he was the only child, Araziel had to look outside the family for friends his age. Family friends came and visited on occasion, but to his dismay most of them were only his mother’s gossiping friends who all liked to sit around the parlor and talk behind the backs of their latest objects of affection. Indeed, Araziel had never really been close to his mother, though he did not know why; she had never really offered that parental love, perhaps on account of her guilt … or rather fear of anyone finding out that Araziel was an illegitimate child. As such, Araziel grew very close to his father Léon, even if the man was not his biological father. Eh, what did it matter? Araziel liked to follow him around the house if he wasn’t busy with his studies or making cookies or crepes in the kitchen, and the two spent much time together on various whimsical activities, from reading together to going hunting and exploring the countryside.

Though the Vasilica family lived out in the countryside near the Alps, Araziel soon wished to visit the city. Marseilles was closest, and to quench his desire to immerse himself in city life, Araziel began to make regular trips to the place. His natural ability to make friends wherever he went earned him quite a few connections, particularly in culinary circles and oddly enough, down at the dock. Though the docks were usually a shady place due to the potential for numerous illegal activities regarding incoming and outgoing cargo and ships, Araziel sometimes stopped by during the day to ... well, what else? Hand out some croissants or whatever he had baked that morning. By fifteen he was even hired as a dockhand a few hours a day, just for fun. The dockhands were admittedly surprised at how well he handled physical labor, though he didn’t mind taking care of the lecterns either since he was an educated man, something rare amongst the company of sailors.

Eventually one particular shipping company invited him to accompany a certain excursion to the far East. The invitation was a rare one, and Araziel had just turned eighteen by then so … after much wheedling on his part, Léon and Clarisse consented. Clarisse actually seemed glad to be rid of him for whatever reason, though it wasn’t until later that Araziel would find out why.

Anyhow, thrilled to finally be able to travel on his own, Araziel set off with the ship bound for the East. It was a long voyage, but he soon developed his sea legs and managed to stop being seasick all of the time. Onboard, he was the entertainer, telling silly stories or jokes, or if nothing else, playing the guitar for everyone. He had a surprisingly natural aptitude for it though he had never really studied music much beyond what his education required of him. Still, he definitely had his place with the crew.

Several months later they arrived at port in Osaka, Japan, the first of several stops all around Indochina. Araziel helped the crew unload the goods to be inspected, but the hour was late … far past dark. Now whilst Araziel never had had trouble in the past seeing in the dark (he had never thought twice about it; it was natural to him), he suddenly alerted the captain that the crew of another docked foreign ship was heading towards their pier.

The captain couldn’t see anything, nor could the rest of the crew, at least not by the dim lantern light they had. Still, they trusted Araziel, but the attack was sudden; half the crew was incapacitated within moments, collapsing around them in the darkness and sending the group into a disorganized panic. Only Araziel was able to hold his ground, and he had taken up the saber of one of the unconscious sailors, charging into the darkness towards the nearest target. Araziel nearly lost his concentration at the eerie sight of the offender however; that shock of golden curls and those pointed features … but most prominently of all, the pale eyes …

Araziel quickly shook the unnerving thought off and had taken a swing at the man, but out of nowhere a controlled blast of fire hit the ground near him and he was knocked off of his feet, sent supine onto the dirt. Over there, to the side … another burst of light as another blast of fire began to manifest. What was this witchery ?!

“Camilla! Arrête-toi!”

The fire suddenly died out, and another pale visage joined the first, this one female. The two muttered to one another in French, something Araziel had not expected all the way out here, but still, the haunting familiarity was near debilitating. Without warning, he passed out. The last image he managed to catch was the startled – and perhaps frightened – gaze of that familiar face before him and his lady companion fled.

Thus a new phase of Araziel’s life began. He had awoken still on the harbor of Osaka. His sailor companions were gone, however, and they had taken their ship with them. As to why they abandoned him, he did not know, but left only with thoughts of confusion and betrayal, the young viscount, equipped only with his weaponry, a few provisions, and the clothes on his back, was left stranded in a land so foreign to him. What was worse was that he had no means of communication; the language was radically different from anything he had studied at home. The natives probably thought him a gibbering mad fool, laughing at his attempts to request aid, or just ignoring him outright in the hopes he would leave them be.

For a little while he tried in vain to find help in the city but to no avail; foreigners were regarded with caution at the very best. Eventually he had to resort to hiding out in the wilderness for a while, waiting for a new ship to come in. None ever arrived however, and after a few months, on the brink of desperation, Araziel was resorting to strange instincts long since suppressed by his civilized lifestyle.

The first time was horrible, and he had no way to explain the why … hardly even the how. He simply recalls that feeling of undying hunger and the burning need to satisfy it; some poor merchant was his first victim, the man making his way down some merchant trade route only to disappear mysteriously somewhere within the depths of the forest.

Afterwards, it was a struggle between ethics and survival. Araziel knew he had killed a man but suddenly he felt as if he needed the blood to survive. Even in the wake of all that though, he was reluctant to take the merchant’s belongings … but eventually he realized that he needed them more than the dead man did. Finally with fresh clothing and tools, Araziel forced himself to cope and try to live a bit less … barbarically, but with that seed planted, bloodlust gnawed quietly at the back of his mind and would continue to do so from then on.

Luckily for him, another traveling man, this time a fisherman, happened upon Araziel in the forest one day. The poor vampire was busy trying to build a fishing pole though the tool was poorly constructed; the fisherman taking pity on the foreigner invited him back to his village, and despite the communication difficulties, Araziel gratefully accepted and, like a lost puppy, he followed the fisherman home.

The villagers were opposed to the idea of keeping a foreigner here, but Araziel’s earnestness soon broke this barrier and slowly he began to grasp the strange tongue of the people here, learning a bit more with every passing day. He lived a simple life with the fisherman’s family, contributing where he could, learning their mundane skills from chopstick carving to vegetable pickling, and of course fishing! Net fishing, pole fishing, it was all there. But of course Araziel being Araziel was best suited to the kitchen, and he both learned and taught there, feeding his love for all things culinary as he exchanged techniques with the fisherman’s wife.

After a few years spent there, the children were all grown up, the parents aging … and Araziel hardly seemed to have changed, at least physically. Araziel knew not the reason, but somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled the incident at the harbor that had happened upon his arrival here … he recalled that hauntingly familiar man and woman, and then the horrible act of violence he had committed somewhere in the forest.

Emotionally distraught, Araziel distanced himself from the family and eventually forced himself to leave them. The children were like siblings to him and the fisherman and wife like parents, but fearing for their safety as much as his own, he departed one night, leaving behind some of the jewelry he had carried with him as emergency barter since the scene at the harbor.

Now a bit more encultured and with the ability to speak the language, he returned to the city and soon became assimilated into its culture instead. He sought a distraction from his troubles, and soon fell into the company of a Kabuki group. Fascinated by the strange costumes, makeup, and stories they wove, Araziel began to tag along with them, eventually earning a job as an assistant … a grunt, really. But that was fine; it was a way to be able to study and witness the spectacles on his own, and soon enough he was doing a little bit more every time … helping with the makeup and stage prep, sewing and designing costumes … oh and don’t forget cooking for the company after shows!

Just when Araziel was feeling at ease with everything, thoughts of home but a wispy memory in the back of his mind, he fell horribly ill. Neglecting bloodlust had done nothing good for him, but on top of that, this was something new. Ghastly back pains now, and Araziel was worried for his physical ability; he had always prided himself in being physically able but now he wondered if he would be able to even walk again. Luckily for him the Kabuki group was almost like a family, and they took care of him though everyone of medical authority from masseuses to herbalists to soothsayers were certain that he was going to pass away.

And then one strange morning just as he felt his health fading and in his mind he prepared to expire for good … the pain came back tenfold, searing through his back so mercilessly that he thought the flesh had to be splitting right open …

He was confirmed dead only a minute later.

The poor Kabuki group had no idea as to what to do with this strange individual. Deciding they would consult with a medium, Araziel’s body was respectfully washed and dressed for burial, and then wrapped – it was the best they could do for now.

Quite fortunate it was that he was not buried or cremated right away, then. Because strangely enough, only two days later …

Araziel opened his eyes to find himself wrapped in sheets. His thoughts immediately returned to him and he recalled what had happened before he had passed away (thinking he’d only lost consciousness). At once he scrabbled out of the sheet much to the shock of the group; the scene was oddly comical given the tragedy of the last forty-eight hours, but as it turned out, he was very much not dead.

Well what the hell happened?

The Kabuki group thought him a demon, or maybe a spirit. Araziel was just glad he was alive. But now to explain why he was so … deathly looking.

Suddenly they all realized … they were masters of the theater! Masters of disguise and deception! The costume crew at once set to work with Araziel, and collaboratively began to design ideas for his costumes. Yes, what better way to make use of his strange appearance than to cast him as a token character?

Thus for a little while thereafter, Araziel participated onstage in different roles of varying importance, though most of the time he opted for anything with less spoken lines, content with simply … well, modeling. Nonetheless it was fun for a little while, but soon that inevitable need for understanding resurfaced again … along with that need for blood. Soon enough, Araziel had bade his goodbyes to the group, taking with him his traveling things.

It was the mid nineteenth century now, but Araziel had nearly lost track of time. How many years had it been since his arrival here? Perhaps a decade? He wasn’t sure. Either way he began to be plagued by dreams, some old, some new; the old ones were the same: blood, blood, more blood. And those familiar figures. But then the new ones were of family … family he did not know. Family that didn’t look anything like his family back in France.

Suddenly compelled to travel into the mountains, into harsh, unwelcoming territory, Araziel did just that. He left the city and walked and walked, though towards what goal he was not certain. Only after a few days of travel on foot did he soon stumble across a strange village, hidden away in the mountains.

He couldn’t explain why, but he suddenly felt not lost but … as if he had found whatever it was he was looking for. And much to his pleasant surprise, the people in the village did not turn him away; rather, they welcomed him with open arms, acting as if they had been expecting him the entire time. Araziel had no idea why, but he fell into their company with ease, immediately feeling at home. It was as if the place was a utopia in and of itself; troublesome thoughts of his past and of questions yet unsolved were forgotten by the wayside … including the pervasive desire to return home.

He spent nearly a decade there, engrossed with the martial studies at the monastery, and delighting in more culinary adventures that to him were still so different from those at home. Home. Where was home now?

One of his mentors could tell that he was pining to leave, and before Araziel did so, the mentor divulged a few secrets to him. Somehow he was related to one of their own, one of their own who had left a couple of generations ago for France. France! Surely it could not be a coincidence? Yes, but … why was he not growing old? And why those ungodly urges to drink of human blood?

His mentor could not offer him these secrets, only suggesting that he look more into the taboo topic of vampirism. Araziel didn’t like the sound of that, but he nonetheless took it to heart and finally departed from that place, leaving with more questions than when he had first arrived.

Returning to the estate, Léon rejoiced to find him alive after so many years, of course having thought he had died on that horrible excursion. Clarisse … feigned joy as always, but Araziel saw straight through it.

Nonetheless life returned to normal for the most part … if life there could be called normal. Araziel ended up pursuing a job as the cook for one of the nicer establishments in Paris; it was a position he quite adored, and a way to make sure his culinary skills did not grow dull.

However, it could not be denied that he wasn’t aging … whilst his parents were growing venerable. Araziel eventually confronted his mother on the subject, and in an upheaval of emotion and secrets, the truth was revealed. Araziel almost regretted ever having brought it up … poor Léon was devastated, and soon thereafter his weak heart failed him and he grew ill from grief. Araziel did not know who to blame, but it did not stop him from holding onto his father until the end. The truth about his illegitimate birth status soon leaked out; Clarisse, disgraced, disappeared from society like she had deserved all along; it was the last he ever saw of her. Araziel, meanwhile, could not care less about his social standing.

Still, after Clarisse’s disappearance, Araziel stayed with his father, tending to his health. Miraculously, Léon managed to recover though he was never quite the same; nonetheless Araziel stayed by his side. The two spent their days in peaceful company, with mornings enjoying Araziel’s latest confections, afternoons spent by the lake, and evenings before the fireplace.

When his father was asleep, Araziel would spend long nights in research, collecting what details he could about vampirism. Eventually in his ventures he stumbled across some obscure tale about how there had been a series of mysterious deaths in Versailles a long time ago and that rumor had circulated about vampires being involved. Versailles … this sounded … eerily familiar.

Araziel knew his father was dying, and Araziel wanted Léon to know the truth about his son’s nature before passing away. One night he chanced divulging what his travels, his research, and his discoveries had all pointed to: Araziel was a vampire by heritage, and he wanted his father to … come to terms with it to help Araziel do so.

To his surprise, Léon simply smiled at him.

“I always knew. Who do you think let your real father in to feed you and keep you well as only a vampire parent can do to its fledgling?”

Araziel, shocked by this confession, was suddenly overwhelmed with even more affection for Léon. How strong he was, to bear such knowledge and never allow the knowledge of Clarisse’s constant infidelity to break his spirit. And how caring a parent he was, to love Araziel despite him not even being his true son.

Sobbing, the emotional Araziel took his father’s hand.

“You are my real father. You always will be.”

Léon’s smile widened. “I love you, my dear Araziel.”

“I love you too, father.”

Araziel drifted to sleep still clutching Léon’s hand, his cheek nestled against Léon’s chest.

The next morning, Léon was gone. Araziel awoke with that sinking feeling, that horrid emptiness … but it was not a shock. He had expected it. That didn’t stop him from weeping over his loss, however, and he stayed by Léon’s bedside until a servant finally forced him away. Araziel only remained at the estate to arrange for his father’s burial. Few attended the funeral; after the drama the years prior with Clarisse’s departure, Léon and Araziel had since fallen from their status in society. Still, Araziel bade his beloved father goodbye and then departed for Versailles, his heart heavy.

Still, optimism eventually found its way back into Araziel’s spirit, and he soon threw himself into his search. He devoured book after book on Versailles and the Bourbon lineage’s history, chasing leads this way and that until he happened again on the strange occurrence of the Secret. It was the same obscure story about a supposed Chevalerie that had once operated in secret … and how they had all mysteriously fallen ill and died under strange circumstances.

Days of nonstop research later, Araziel was certain he had a solid lead. He began to dig through archives of birth records and death records until he finally stumbled across a document so obscure that only one copy existed … and it was in horrible physical state. The document was an old roster of the former Chevalerie, and one particular profile caught his eye: that of a young musician at court, one whose … mother had been foreign born … from the east.

Araziel vividly recalled what those people at the village had said. How one had traveled to Versailles and …

A sudden creak of the door startled him. After all, he was going through the vaults of the palace of Versailles, something that was definitely not allowed. Ever. He hastily gathered up his documents and tried to shove them away to escape … but it was too late. Someone had caught him.

“You. Come with me.”

Araziel obeyed, gut instinct telling him it would be foolish not to. But he was not completely incompetent. The man’s scent was … off. Something wasn’t right …

He waited for his opportunity to strike, and when it came he quickly knocked the man unconscious and proceeded to search him for any hint as to his identity. He found only a signet ring, but he took it along with the documents he had collected. Fleeing from that place, he returned to his inn room at a local hotel to gather his things and leave. Just as he was about to do so, however, there was a knock at the door. Fearing it was the man’s accomplices, Araziel readied himself for another fight, but then …

“Uhm … excuse me? I’m looking for uhm … Araziel. May I come in please?”

That sounded too polite for someone who wanted to capture him. So, taking a chance, Araziel answered. There at the door was a vampire, but … but it was a young one (as far as he could tell), timid but earnest looking.

“Can I help you?” Araziel eventually started.

“You … you took some things from the library.”

Araziel immediately went to retrieve them, holding onto them. “Yes and I’m not giving them up.”

But the vampire simply laughed a nervous but amused laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve been looking for you for ages. You’re … you’re my brother.”

The proclamation was absurd … but somehow Araziel could not for a moment suspect the vampire of lying.

“How … how would you know that? I have no siblings.”

“Well I guess that makes us half-brothers, actually.” The young man smiled. “I’m … I’m Valeri. It’s nice to meet you.”

Suddenly, Araziel realized this man was the link to … to everything he had been searching for.

“Oh … Gods, I … I want to meet them. The family. Is it … is it our family?”

Valeri smiled. “Yes. Come!”

It was strange but … it was a resolution, too. Araziel followed Valeri to a secluded area near Marseilles. There, he at long last met the figures about whom he had researched endlessly ... including his real – no, biological – father.

They welcomed him to their strange family. Araziel soon felt at ease with the world and with himself for the first time since Léon’s passing. As he got to know the Chevalerie and their work in the world, he became more and more involved with their agenda, eventually formally joining their cause.

1900 - :
× Meets Valeri, becomes close with the half-sibling
× Move briefly to America; work in bars and clubs playing instruments
× Return to France; keep the same ‘act’ at the Moulin Rouge

1920 - :
× Opens a café in Paris

1930 - :
× Meets Takashi in Marseille
× Works for Takashi’s hotel as head pastry chef

1940 - :
× Takes refuge with the family in France upon Lucien & Camilla’s return from Japan
× Café temporarily closed (for obvious reasons)
× Begins to compile list with Valeri on artworks stolen from the household

1950 – Present:
× After WWII, Chevalerie officially reformed
× Araziel reopens café (also a safehouse for Chevalerie)
× Travels frequently to the states with Valeri to do scouting and item acquisition

Both to help supplement his father and the Chevalerie’s agendas and to help further his own knowledge and goals, Araziel transferred in about a year ago to immerse himself in the life of a budding wizard and better understand the culture and ins and out of wizarding society. Interestingly enough, potions seems to be his forte thus far given that he can closely relate it to cooking – his greatest talent – but as a Gryffindor, his potential is often stunted by the Potions professor’s assumed dislike for Araziel. It’s nothing personal … but the fact that that gets in the way of his studies really irks him.

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YOU TOOK YOUR EYES UP OFF THE GAME
YOU’VE GOT NO ONE LEFT TO BLAME

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Name/Alias: Kai
Age: 21
Roleplay Experience: Dunno but I’m still at it !
How you heard about us: Heard it from Marily who heard it from Chels who … made the site. xD
Code Phrase: admin edit
Roleplay Sample:

"Oh." Araziel had tilted his head the other way, blinking up at the guy. "Nah, they're not actually all this bad. Just ... some of them. Well, a lot of them. But not all." The halfbreed smirked to himself, not missing for a second the little signs of impatience that Vincent too was displaying. And still the queue of angry businessmen grew! "No, they're not. The manager oughtta' be fired." Sighing wearily, Araziel crossed his arms and massaged at his forehead with his fingertips, shaking his head.

"Oh, so ... you're a student? Undergraduate or graduate?" Araziel gave the man another considering look, eyeing the cap perched at an angle atop his head. "Must have been a bit of a culture shock, the move and all." He shrugged and pursed his lips, glancing back to the front. "I don't know what the unis are like over here but ... if you're willing to fight tooth and nail for overinflated rent in tiny little flats, it must be worthwhile." Biting his lip, Araziel trailed off thoughtfully; already he was taking a liking to the guy. He seemed like an earnest sort; your typical hardworking student scraping for a living in this hellhole. Araziel was only glad that he didn't have to live here. His visits only lasted a week, if that.

Earnest indeed. The suspicious look was evidence enough. Araziel couldn't blame him, but hell, someone had to do something before this ticking bomb went off!

"I can't? I can't?! Oh you just wait sir and see that I very well can. And will." Araziel had a very 'can do' attitude, that was for certain. And as he marched right up to the cashier, he calmly swung open the door to behind the bar, ushering Vincent in before he stepped in as well.

The employees appeared rather confused; after all, who wouldn't be? But Araziel seemed to know what he was doing; with no manager in sight, it was no wonder everything was going to hell. "Alright! Everyone off bar and on cashier duty! Vincent and I will be handling the drink making; you guys just double up on order taking!" More to him and Vincent than the others, he muttered, "God knows they need it," jerking his thumb towards the crowd.

"Alright, here's the plan. Can you read cups? You grab them as they take the orders." He snatched up an empty cup from the stack. "If anything ends with a T, it's tea. Just steep the right one; the first letter should indicate; G for green, EG for earl grey, and so on. If this box is marked, it's just a fresh roast, so just fill it up from the normal coffee machine. Anything in this box is gonna need espresso, so you just put this scooper here and pull this lever, then hit this switch for one shot ... " He pointed out every little gadget and switch and what-have-you as he explained quickly but clearly. Obviously Araziel had done this before.

"And finally, if any drinks are more complicated than I explained, just toss 'em my way and I'll cover 'em." He nodded firmly. "Alrighty, ready?" Now with everyone else on cashier duty, the orders would be coming in five times as fast ...

this template is credit to xmrsmalfoyx at CAUTION 2.0.
Feel free to add and change as necessary, but please do leave my credit here.
I worked very hard on this, and I’d rather not
have to send my horde of zombie soldiers after you.

[CHELS?!]

* ACCEPTED !

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