Ryder, Katelina (Three Six Five)

Title: Ryder, Katelina

Katelina Ryder - August 1, 2007 08:33 PM (GMT)

OOC;

name || Kim
age || Seventeen
contact info || PM or Email
other characters || None

BASICS;

full name || Katelina Olivia Ryder
nickname(s) || She likes to be called Ollie over everything else.
age || Twenty-Four
sexuality || Heterosexual
type || Civilian
canon/original || Canon

LOOKS;

hair colour || Brown
eye colour || Hazel
height || 5’6
weight || 121 lbs.
piercings/tattoos/scars/etc || Three ear piercings, Tongue and Navel
overall ||

little

face claim || Alexis Dziena
picture || user posted image

MIND;

likes: ||

dislikes: ||

hopes: ||

fears: ||

strengths: ||

weaknesses: ||

flaws/quirks: ||

overall ||

LIFE;

date of birth || October 13th
hometown || Salem, Oregon
mother || Diane Ryder [Age;; 42]
father || Wade Ryder [Age;; 46]
siblings || None

history ||

ADMIN;

member title || just another__{{SMALLTOWNGIRL
secret phrase || ---edit--
admin says || ACCEPTED
sample rp ||

QUOTE

The second floor girls bathroom had always been a place for students to steer clear of if they wanted to keep their hearing intact. Moaning Myrtle had a tendency to wail and scream at anyone that decided to interrupt her moping. Fitz was absolutely no exception, well, at least in the beginning. Now though, six years into his seven-year period at Hogwarts, he found that Myrtle was a very nice apparition if you just took the time to get to know her. She was especially helpful when it came to writing angsty poems and the like, but that was a given in her position now wasn't it? In the beginning for Fitzroy it seemed that there was no escape from the droves of people and teachers, no place to run or walk to just be alone. Sure, finding solace and escape in a partially abandoned girls lavatory may not have been his best choice in life but it worked.

A little known fact about Fitz 'Muffin' Finnigan was that he loved to be alone with his thoughts. He loves to write what he's feeling and what he's going through. Unfortunately he can't ever seem to write or be openly creative when he's around other people, even if they are his friends. Hence his problem and the solution of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Today, Fitz sat on the dirty windowsill, one of his overall favorite places in the entire grimy bathroom. With legs crossed, hair in his face and a little leather bound journal spread open in his lap Fitzroy felt at home. The page that lay open was half filled with a rather long poem that had been in the making since the start of term and no matter what Fitz did to it, he could never find the right next line. Nothing fit and it was beginning to annoy him. Along with the lines of black ink were small doodles of dragons, flowers, stars and very angry looking clowns.

He'd set down his quill more than an hour ago, his muse completely lost with the slowly setting sun. Why can't I get this poem to work? His mind wandered from the poem to the grounds, to the tower that was just barely visible over the crest of the school and finally to the Pitch in the distance. They had a game soon, as well as a practice. It wasn't a secret that Fitz, along with his hidden love of poetry and art, loved Quidditch with about as much passion as a Sixteen-year-old boy could feel. With journal in his lap, quill hanging out of his mouth and his mind on the Quidditch game to come, Fitzroy was a picture, almost a painting save for the steady breathing. He needed to finish this poem, but that thought seemed far from his mind as he closed his hazel eyes and leaned his head against the cool glass. "What's a boy to do?"

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