COTNOIR, Flint Léonce
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COTNOIR, Flint Léonce

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Post by Flint Cotnoir on Mon Sep 01, 2014 2:58 pm

COTNOIR, Flint Léonce Maddenface_zps96643c4f

FLINT COTNOIR
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INTRODUCTION
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FULL NAME: Flint Léonce Cotnoir

NICKNAMES:  None that he encourages

AGE: 26

ALLEGIANCE: Officially Neutral, but leaning to Order of the Phoenix

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Former Ravenclaw

CLASSES: N/A

WAND: Alder, Phoenix Feather, 12 inches. Unyielding.

PLAY BY: Richard Madden


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APPEARANCE
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HAIR COLOUR: Dark Brown

EYE COLOUR: Blue

COMPARATIVE HEIGHT: Quite tall, not imposingly so

BODY BUILD: Well built but not well defined

GENERAL APPEARANCE: It often leads to a great dea lof discomfort for him that people often remark on Flint being 'handsome' – Certainly, it isn't a label he pursues. Somewhere along the line, his unkempt brown hair and lazy attempt at a beard became somewhat fashionable, although the same can hardly be said about his dress sense. Almost every item of clothing he owns, aside from 1 suit, is rather shabby, dark coloured and generally unpleasant. Not offensively so, but it does make Flint look less like a rather successful writer and more like a down-on-his-luck bachelor. His figure - quite tall and, while athletic in a sense, not really toned – again makes him stand out in a peculiar way, more of an oddity than anything alluring. However, as he does not take a great deal to do with his appearance, he is content enough to try and accept the compliments on his appearance, and blush away from the cutting asides about his fashion sense.



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PERSONALITY
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TRAITS: – Soft-spoken
Self-confident
Very thoughtful/pensive
Strong sense of justice and morality
Passionate
Very articulate & witty
Often arrogant
Rude, often without realising
Can get hot-headed and tempestuous when passions are raised
Stubborn

LIKES & DISLIKES: Likes – Reading and Writing, Winter days, Long periods of thought, A good argument, Being able to make a difference
Dislikes – Ignorance, Bullying, Social Injustices, Being proved wrong or beaten in debates, Cheese

GOALS: To get past his current bout of writer's block, and to change the world for the better

HABITS & QUIRKS: - Completely ignoring someone mid-conversation to think to himself
Running a hand through his hair when in thought
- Starting sentences with multiple filler words and pauses (eg 'Well, right... so)

BOGGART: A raging fire with dense black smoke

PATRONUS: His memory for a patronus is when he received the letter confirming his first book deal. Flint's patronus takes the form of a large sparrow.

DEMENTOR: Dementors fill Flint's mind with images of the fire his father died in, half remembered from his childhood, and the tortured screams of his mother as she watched.

VERITASERUM: That he can't bypass an enormous bout of writer's block that has put his writing nearly a year behind schedule.

MIRROR OF ERISED: Flint sees a crowd of people smiling, happy, but chooses not to see that he is basking in the glory of making them happy and content as well.

PERSONALITY: Flint has been often described as a gentle man – Soft spoken and careful in his words, it isn't difficult to see why. He tends not to rush into a conversation, instead choosing to spend time in silence before any kind of discussion. Of course, this is often after he's put down the parchment and quill he has been fiddling with, a habit more than a sign of working. In the heat of a discussion though he will become steadily more animated and passionate, talking almost endlessly and occasionally getting rather heated. That said he can, if not grabbed by a conversation, drift off in his own thoughts with relative ease, and begin to abandon the conversation in favour of silent contemplation.


When he's put in a conversation without confrontation and debate, however, Flint tends to be much more relaxed and almost jovial. He loves people, he loves learning the intricacies of their personalities and how to deal with them. Even in these casual situations however, the passionate fire that burns inside of him is there, the quiet intensity that never really allows him to relax. It doesn't take much for the fire to spill over and the anger to seep through, but he tries. There isn't much he can do but try.




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FAMILY & POSSESSIONS
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FATHER: Léonce Cotnoir (Deceased)

MOTHER: Elaine Cotnoir (née Winchester)

SIBLING/S: N/A

OTHER: N/A

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood

SPECIES: Human

SOCIAL STATUS: Lower Middle-class

PET/S: Tawny Owl - Voltaire

OTHER POSSESSIONS: None of note



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CHARACTER HISTORY
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Early Years: Flint’s very existence can all be put down to one massive co-incidence, one that nearly ended badly. 19 years ago, his father Léonce, a prolific auror for the French Ministry, was on an overseas mission in England to catch a known muggle killer from Lyon, Sebastien Bonaparte. It was unusual for a case to be handled by a forgein ministry, but Léonce had chased Bonaparte down for 3 years now, and knew how he worked very well, so the British Ministry had allowed it. It was in his 3rd week there that he found him, holed up in a lovely North London flat, with a muggle student at wandpoint in a hostage situation. It was tense – If Léonce had overstepped the mark at all, he knew that Bonaparte would not hesitate to kill the girl. And so he, carefully, lined up a series of charms to create a host of distractions, exploding around the flat. Bonaparte spun one way then the other, looking in alarm for others, giving Léonce just enough of an opportunity to launch a well aimed stunner at his head, knocking the criminal out.

The female hostage was, of course, Elaine Winderton, a very academically successful muggle who was terrified. But something about the calm, collected look instantly soothed her fear. Within a month, Léonce had handed in his notice to the French Ministry and had settled down in London with Elaine. For two years they lived an idyllic life, although Elaine chose to stay somewhat separate from the wizarding aspects that Léonce brought. A year after their marriage, they were blessed with a boy – Flint.

It would have been a fantastic atmosphere for a young boy to grow up in, with an intelligent and dedicated mother alongside a passionate and just father. However, it was not to be – 4 months after Flint’s birth, Bonaparte escaped prison in France and came for Léonce and his family. Their duel was extraordinary by all account, culminating in an all consuming fire erupting in the house, killing both wizards while Elaine watched on, a young Flint crying in her arms.

The life that followed was very different from what was forseen. Because she didn’t know much about the wizarding world, and had next to no contacts in it, Elaine could only tell Flint that he was one, not what it would entail or such like. She encouraged him academically through the muggle primary school she sent him to, too much encouragement some may say, as she was very harsh on poor grades. As a result, Flint began his habitual study at a young age, not quite robbing him of a childhood but limiting his interactions with the kids he lived amongst. He was also told by his mother, of course, about his father and how he died – However, the way she told it was almost judgemental of Léonce’s career as an auror, as if the danger was not worth the payoff.

Hogwarts Years: At 11, Flint’s Hogwarts letter came, and despite her misgivings about the magical world, his mother did not even attempt to stop him from going. It became time for her to let her son see what the world his father had known was like. Flint himself was terrified – A whole new way of living that he knew nothing about. As such, his study reflex kicked in even harder than before, and for the first year of school he surrounded himself with books to learn all he could about the wizarding world, so as not to appear ignorant. He wasn’t a brilliant student, but with his knowledge slowly improving and classes becoming easier, he was able to spend some time focusing on spellcraft – and his love for it amazed him. However, all it took was one thought of the very brief memory of the thick smoke from the burning ruins of his babyhood and he repressed this love to a secret vice.

It took a couple of years for Flint to begin to open up, and when he did he realised that a lifetime of books had taught him well how to express himself, and how to talk and deal with people. He began to amass a modest amount of friends, however his love still remained rooted firmly in his studies. With his newfound social openness however, he began to take more of an interest in fiction, something he had neglected due to his more studious nature. When he began to get a feel for people, though, he found characters all the more fascinating, and the power that words could have began to enrapture him. It was also a way for him to live out the secret fantasies of his father's lifestyle, vicariously through the fiction he would read. He still continued his own secret practices, sneaking into abandoned rooms or corridors after dark to force himself to become a better wizard, but now it was more out of habit than a secret urge to save the world.

As a result of this, his schoolwork did not falter much, however his motivations had began to change. Ever more aware of the people around him Flint began to read up on the wizarding world, it's customs and politics, and soon he began to form opinions that were often dissenting. He saw flaws where someone who had always existed inside the system would not, and soon idle conversations with friends and acquaintances became explorations of what was right and wrong, of the treatment of magical citizens and the way the politcal system interacted with itself. He began to write letter to the Prophet at 16, and after a few months of this (and some very choice replies) he began work on a novel, his studies finally taking the tank they had been long been awaiting as his focus changed entirely.

The book was called 'Baron Acton's Percival', and was about a wizard kept by a muggleas a pet, who rebelled against his master and became Minister for Magic, where his ignorance and years of being caged away lead him to slowly and irrevocably doom his entire people to being kept as pets. Tactfully, Flint sent a handful of extracts to the Prophet, who immediately began to report on the controversial and scandalous content ad nauseum. This attention did, of course, all but guarantee a publishing deal, and within a year the book had sold in vast amounts. Shortly afterwards Flint finished up school, and set about his new life as a full-time author.

Adulthood: The first few years after Hogwarts were a blur. Flint was writing books, less political and scathing in their nature now, at the rate of 2 a year, a font of unbridled creativity. He wrote a series of romance novels about a young widow learning to live and love again. He wrote a book for children, the adventures of a dragon runt searching for his purpose. He wrote a crime thriller, partially based on his father's life, a book that became almost as well read as his debut. He managed to buy a nice home in London, but as always there was a storm brewing.

It was 4 years after the release of 'Baron Acton's Percival' that the Ministry began to take an interest in Flint's work. It started subtly, with corrections from his editor that moved things into less inflamatory areas, things Flint was willing to let go. Soon though, he noticed titles being changed, messages being added, and entire books disappearing from shops without being sold. It took another year until Flint realised that he was being censored, and he had no idea why. He hadn't openly defied the Ministry in any real way, only jabbed at it, mentioned displeasure. The steps they were taken were, he believed, not warranted.

That was when things began to change. Things became harsher and the world became... colder, almost. People were dissatisfied with the Ministry but they weren't heard, Rumours of fighting between the Ministry and factions within it made it to Flint's ears, and his writing changed. HE wrote what was less a novel and more a series of interlinked rants, and bypassed his editor to leave them in great piles in pubs, on the street, in peoples windows. The more who got to read it, the better things might get.

And then the Marriage Law came, and Flint felt rage like he had never known.

His editor refused to publish the political work he wrote within a day after the law's introduction. He wanted something nice, or was being leaned on to ask for something nice. But Flint couldn't. There were no ideas, no passions. Only anger, only a feeling of immense impotence at the nothing he could do. His money was running out, taxes piling up. He downsized once, then again, all within a year. All that time he did what he could to get his creative juices flowing, but was always brought back to speaking on street corners, to running and hiding his face, and to trying to do something, anything, to encourage change.



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BEHIND THE CHARACTER
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ALSO KNOWN AS: Myykull

RP EXPERIENCE: Roughly 9 years on and off

HOW YOU FOUND US: Advertisement on another site (I cannot remember which)

MAIN CHARACTER: Only Flint for now

PURPOSE OF CHARACTER: To have a character with grand ideas and opinions who struggles to manage this alongside his reality, so he is left feeling impotent and at a loss. Also to create a character who can rub people the wrong way and challenge the way conversations are approached.

RP SAMPLE: ((From another site with a different incarnation of Flint))


The gentle, almost unhearable thud of a quill on a sheet parchment prompted a stifled sigh from Flint Cotnoir, massaged his temples. Truth be told, he should have stopped an hour ago – It was already evening, and he was well past his prime writing frame of mind. He had been working for a little over a month now on a paper about Dark Magical Theory – to be specific, what bearing magic had on someone's predisposition to commit acts of evil. It had started as a bit of a fun idea, but now it was becoming a slippery slope in so many obscure branches of magic that all elements of fun were long gone. Arithmancy had, of course, been first, followed by Wand Lore, and now he was delving into the real poppycock of Astrology. The books around him were full of charts, of records and, most crucially, of bullshit. Yet, Flint still made himself read, knowing that another well-recieved paper could lead to another book. It had been all too long since his last, and while he was growing more resentful of his academic life with each passing reference to Cygnus or Scorpio, he was very fond of seeing his name emblazoned on the spine of a weighty tome.

He gave a tiny little sigh and ran a hand through his unkempt hair, allowing a smile to form slowly on his lips. He loved the library - So peaceful and quiet that it almost removed all of the unpleasant aspects of study. Not that there were many when it was an interesting subject, aside from how tiring it was and how it often served to create stress rather than relieve it. But that was just how it was, he supposed. Too much of a good thing and all that. Flint reclined backwards in his chair and allowed his eyes to flutter shut. His mind began to drain of study, and filled a more natural, relaxed Flint. Fantasies of the life his father had lead, a life of aurorship and Dark Art combating that he would never have, filled his mind, and he smiled gently as he let them. Why not after all, it was only imagining. He was tired though... Well, he though, a few minutes of a nap won't hurt...



The man was still running from Flint. It had been a long chase, or at least that's how he felt. It was all mashing together. But now they leapt across the rooftops of downtown London, with the criminal firing curses back over his shoulder. Most missed by a mile. Those that didn't were promptly blocked by Flint's own wand, sent careering into chimneys and roof slates. It was all very Victorian looking, in truth. Down to the dark fog that circled around them, occasionaly cut by the red of a stunning spell of the green of a killing curse. The man jumped over a short alleyway - Flint was hot on his heels, barely 15 feet between them, rolling as he hit the other, lower roof and rising quickly to resume his previous pace. This was the end of the line - When they reached the end of this row, there was nowhere to go. The man stopped sharply at the edge, looking down at the ground below. Flind stopped maybe 10 feet away, raising his want to point at him. "Give it up, Bonaparte!", he shouted, "It's the end of the line!".

The man turned slowly to face Flint - But he appeared to have no discernable face. Just a void that seemed to suck all of Flint's attention, and all the air around it, in. "Oh, non, Monsieur Cotnoir. Ze only line that weel end here...", Somehow, the featureless facegave a cruel grin, "ees yours.". From behind him then, as if on prompt, rose a dragon, terrifying in it's size. Flint backed off slowly, stunned, as the beast opened it's mouth and let out a mighty plume of flame, accompanied by a chorus of roars as all feelings left Flint, all but fear and a sort of rising... rising...


He jerked up abruptly in his seat, pages and paper flying everywhere, and ink well smashing on the floor. He panted, his heart thumping, struggling to tear himself from the dream for a few moments. When he had calmed, he looked around him. It was far, far darker than it had been when he had closed his eyes – It must have been nearly midnight, if not past it. Muttering darkly, Flint began to gather his items up hastily, waving his wand at the broken shards to glass to gather them into a neat little pile. As he was rolling up a particularly large star chart, he heard it. It wasn't much, just the creak of a floorboard, but immediately Flint was on his feet, want pointing around him, shadows in every direction with bookcases towering overhead.

H... Hello? Who's there?”. He said, rather meekly. He had to remind himself, for the umpteenth time, that he was a student no longer, but a teacher, a professor here at Hogwarts. Whoever it was, he was likely the one in control. Or so they should believe. “C... Come out, right now, or there will be dire consequences.”. He realised too late this sounded like the words of a madman, or would have had they not began with a nervous squeak and a stutter. 'Get it together, Cotnoir', he thought darkly, as he waited for the other person to make themselves known...
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Flint Cotnoir
Ravenclaw Graduate
Ravenclaw Graduate

Number of posts : 7
Occupation : Writer

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COTNOIR, Flint Léonce Empty Re: COTNOIR, Flint Léonce

Post by Khaat Lupin on Mon Sep 01, 2014 4:15 pm

ohmygosh. he's amazing! love him!

can't wait to see him on the boards.

accepted and sorted to grads!
Khaat Lupin
Khaat Lupin
Gryffindor Graduate
Gryffindor Graduate

Number of posts : 19044
Special Abilities : Energy Worker, Medium, Heightened Sensitivity
Occupation : Director of St. Mungos, Owner of Sparks Bistro

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