Killian Everard Waldorf

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

Killian Everard Waldorf

FACE CLAIM: Samuel Trepanier
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AGE: XXII
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Bisexual
POSITION: Bellefonte College Student


POWER: Telekinesis and Mind Reading
As a control-freak the bloke is daft upon exerting might over everything. Things have to be a certain way, according to his whims - one would say he's capricious yet it is more a thing of self-insurance as to be tranquil that things will result according to plan. Henceforth, this obsession with perfection and accurate timing has developed into a subconscious longing that exudes through his powers.



Killian is able to read minds unwillingly, and it's a hardship to focus on a single individual, yet, when he endeavours his hardest, he is able to do so (rarely, he might have interference with other people's deems; especially when he's girded by gaggles), nonetheless he is prone to listen to certain things he's not quite fond of, as when someone is cheating on him, or if someone tries to conceal something from his notion. Besides, he can listen through a round perimeter of 5-10 metres; depending on the amount of people and the concentration of such.



Along with mind-reading, Killian suffers a condition of impulsive, involuntary Telekinesis which causes moving and hovering objects, and in some bizarre and uncanny occasions even the explosion of such. The power functions at a molecular level, affecting the space between the atoms and affecting their weight, stability and even becoming them lighter or heavier. This response to his mood and temper, although, normally, he isn't a short wicked individual. The thrusting and explosive matter only occurs when he is practically livid; if he's content in an unusual manner, objects might float around him. However, he's in normalcy a calm and collected beign.



LIMITATIONS:

Despite his mania upon control, Killian does not exert a certain domain upon his powers, and it stems frustration and angst every now and then within the youth. He doesn't always select whose mind he's reading, and since he sees only thoughts and scraps through the words he gropes for, he's uncertain on the one emitting the message (he tends to get easily baffled at this) - it reaches such a point that he is bound to even mishear his own perusing. They might activate without his consent and he ends up listening to rather awkward conversations or secrets he didn't need to know about.



His powers span a round perimeter of 5-10 metres and not longer (with specific and unnatural exceptions, goaded by his temper, which could increase the area about 2-5 metres more).



SIDE-EFFECTS:

It has happened once or twice every now and then that he permeates that deep into someone's mind that he can actually plant a thought into someone's mind and even convince him/her about something. Not exactly a way of manipulation as it isn't something he does on purpose but more of a mishap.



Having to listen to people's deems all the time is a gruelling toil he has to undergo without chance of turning it off/on at will, thusly, the bloke tends to ostracise himself and to neglect the world around him as possible. Having a constant flurry of voices in your head causes him migraines, lack of sleep and at times, it even evokes succinct narcolepsy episodes that may vary with time and seasons (winter takes its toll on him and he might be found cooped up within a tower with closed windows and sheer darkness as he lies down in bed. Cold enhances his abilities).





HEIGHT: 5'11 (1.85 metres)
HAIR COLOR: 

Killian's slightly long locks accommodate faultlessly backwards to give the appearance of a darker hue for the mane than it actually is. His light brown hair that is close to blonde is a rare specimen to find, yet it isn't a detail that draws much attention to him. It is straight and pretty sleek in appearance, although it's not the same when it's dishevelled and tousled (something out of context for this posh gent).



EYE COLOR:

People refer to Killian's eyes as piercing and unveiling, for when you sink into those hazelnut cordoned greyish pupils that eye through your frame and soul which hide underneath the shade of his slightly bushy brows. They say his irises colour changes with the light of the sun, as to even be declared as greenish or honey like. He doesn't have a perfect sight for which he is forced to wear glasses for lectures, classes and prolonged sighting at screens or such (films, mobile, etc). These are black framed with a squared like design that rests upon his cheeks (some might call them 'of-a-hipster').




MISC: 

Killian maintains an incipient beard he carefully trims every morning or so, in an everlasting ritual (in accord to his little sister Odie). He is extremely thorough when it comes to his bearing and he won't spare a dime on it. This applies to practically all of his garments, from v-neck tees to his numerous plaid shirts, which have to be properly ironed and impeccable to the most insignificant speck. Something emblematic to him is his pair of leather tawny boots, he almost includes to every attire.



When he was 17, the bloke lost one of his siblings and went down depression. He overcame it with time and had a tattoo upon his right forearm with a black cross on it, in the irony of death and not because of Christianity or any religious drive. This, along with one at this nape with the words 'in.peace' in typewriter like, font, for a less traditional view at RIP, in the memory of Logan (his deceased little brother Logan).





PERSONALITY: 

Killian is a contrite chap that has accepted to embrace ail as it is. He does not display a grin but more of a twisted smirk at life, and with it he believes that people are mental and that he is bound to untagle the knot everyone's withholding in their minds. He knows he has a bundle of skeletons in his wardrobe, just like everybody else, yet he's learnt to live with them, unlike others. He isn't daft but distant, although some might believe he doesn't guard much sense.



In general terms, Killian is sarcastic, narcissist and egoistical to almost every single perspective. The bloke might differ from you and strive to prove you wrong at almost anything occurring to you, as he is a pure essence nihilistic character that defies everything and questions anything before him. This is mistakenly seen as pessimism, albeit, it isn't afar from it. He is extremely realistic, with a dab of frankness some find irritating to a point of low or almost no tolerance. You'd have a more fruitful conversation with a brick wall instead of bickering with him upon why life isn't about silver lining and upright mentality. He finds mirth in the irony of life, since the moment we're doomed to perish and live with the constant reminder of such matter.



All these factors are the ones that shoved him into studying Psychology and devouring the mysteries of the crypric mind.



Killian is a control freak who needs to have everything sorted out and arranged in accordance to his plan. Not to classify him as an OCD, since it doesn't reach that reckless level, but more of a person that needs to be surrounded by order, in reference to his belongings, his sentiments, his agenda, his acquaintances, etc. So, in a nutshell, he is indeed a control freak. Having anything misplaced could lead to upsetting him and to a possible outburst of discomfort - may it be inconspicuous or absolutely notorious. Although he is not the throwing a tantrum sort, but more of the suffering in silence, like. Killian is normally stoic and doesn't give in before pressure, unless it's too much on his plate - like having something unplanned befalling upon him.



When it comes to communication, it is not his forte, as he has no gentle touch for treating others. He will say whatever comes to his mind, regardless of how hurtful that might be, as he is callous in terms of sentiments and has no understanding for human relationships, and has no idea on how they function. He believed he could have a grapple on it by studying the psyche and the intricate processes of the mind - this however has been futile, in his own words. He will come with a snarky quip about how you shouldn't or should act, breathe, etc., and probably bask in the soppy faces of those he leaves behind. He practices the openness and honesty as his method of therapy for both him and his cohorts.



He is observant, albeit he is not completely agree with being so, as he cannot help to assess someone from their outlooks, visage, physical condition, nutrition habits, and more. He is the one to reckon that the surface is barely the tip of the iceberg that sinks down deep, nonetheless, it will be his first impression, and probably the absolute one. Despite being an empath, he can merely feel sympathy for the people around him, and he cannot embrace their sentiments as his own - not really an empath, at all.



LIKES

- Psychology has edged him to a verge of becoming an avid reader and to practically devour books within a span of minutes, or hours, depending on the thickness of the volumes and how engrossing the matter actually is to him. May it be human related themes, scientific knowledge, since he actually has a taste for Philosophy and Literature, he becomes so engrossed by it that he can let time consume without notion.



- Killian has a sweet tooth, and it comes to almost everything he does. From muffins, biscuits or sweets, he is attached to a sugary instrument in his hand, as you could even mistake him for an addict. He seems to have a penchant for chocolate, almost all along, though it could be satiated with almost any other candy. It might be the contrast to his bitter temper.



- Sieged by the turmoil of thoughts of those alien to him, he's grown fonder of basking in silence and the irenic niche he finds within such. With nothing to pester him but his own deems, the bloke is perfectly at ease whenever the sound is limited or inexistent.



- Trekking is an activity he oft relishes in at practising, as the merge of running and exploring the outdoors in an assiduous and intense manner that only an exercise as such can fulfill. Prepped up with the proper outfit, he will tread through the mountains in his quickest gait in order to ditch every voice in his head - even his.



- Snogging is a recurrent habit in which he seems to enjoy himself at doing. No chit-chat no sentiments, but mere lustful desire linked to sensations, caresses, skin clinging to skin, lips brushing - debauchery in its purest expression. Killian is a brethren of existentialist thinking, tipping towards sensualism and hedonism (seems to be the worst of his traits).

DISLIKES

- Killian doesn't exactly revel in company of almost anyone, thusly, in spite of being forced to live amongst people and having interaction with them, he is a person with a marked personal space bubble, thusly he is prone to escape into the wilderness and to the outtakes, wherever he can feel relieved.



- Not exactly a player, but the bloke isn't interested in binding with someone and creating rapport and such. As soon as he feels the vessel of whims has been properly filled up, he'll move on into a different target - along with the fact he is bound to seek for solitude.



- The lad is allergic to dust and filth. He might sneeze uncontrollably whenever a particle of these matters wafts about the room. It isn't something he can actually handle very well, and it even could drive him either mental or livid if he feels worn out by it. Along with sneezing, he can develop migraine, a blocked nose and lassitude (or any other related flu symptoms).



- Water is a natural carrier for all kinds of waves and the like, which helps them to travel across the distance in short periods of time; this enhances Killian's abilities as much as the side effects, augmenting the intensity and the voices besetting him, hence, he doesn't wallow in sharing a swim with people and he will shun piscines, beaches and anything that would involve close interaction with thronged places. In spite of actually feeling soothed down whenever he gets the chance to swim on his own, just floating around with his eyes closed.



- As a very opinionated and almost bigoted person, Killian detests those who don't seem to agree with him and his beliefs. You may think of him as a highly intolerant person, well, think twice. Most of the times, the bloke is accurate in what he thinks and says, yet he tends to lose it - this could render him to a livid state, ergo he's learnt to think too much of himself as to almost be stowed onto a pedestal (metaphorically speaking).

SECRET(S): 

Killian loves music and feels lured and fascinated by it. He can seclude himself from the world with a pair of headphones that muffle every other disturbance In the atmosphere. This is not the secret, but his knack for playing musical instruments, and more specifically the piano. No one knows this as he learnt to play it by himself and when no one is around. The only person aware of it was Loganberry, his little brother who kept the secret and toted it to his very grave.



Killian secretly believes in true love. He just deems people worthless and won't admit, even to himself, that he actually craves to find his soul mate and make life worth living, at last.



FATHER: 

Maximillian Everard Waldorf (47 years old)


MOTHER:

Agatha Odile Waldorf (43 years old


SIBLINGS: 

Odile Sophomore Waldorf (19 years old)

Logan Amadeus Waldorf (deceased when he was 12 years old)



WORTHY MENTIONS:

Shade is a dog in which he believes was deposited the soul of his departed sibling (Logan), and a rare specimen whose colour stands out in dappled greyish upon its hackles. A brave loyal siberiano husky that his parents gave him after his loss. Just like with Logan, Killian shares everything with Shade and carries him over wherever he can take it with him.




CHILDHOOD: 

Killian Everard Waldorf was born to Agatha & Maximillian Waldorf on a November's 29th eve, just about midnight at the Waldorf's manor about Edinburgh's outskirts, to become the first heir of the Waldorf wealth. As the first child on lineage, the tyke was pampered with all sorts of commodities and gifts, even after the birth of the second and third children: Odile (Odie) and Logan, yet they had to endure the rigid hand of discipline for the aristocracy they had been both dunked in. All kinds of manners should be learnt and practised by heart, as well as to be known better than the back of their hands. Elegance enclosed mental strain and simpers withheld incomformity and displeasure condensed into toddlers' mind and soul, since it was a hardship as it was for Killian to Odie or Logan to abide by the rules and correctness.



Nonetheless, between those gaps of formality there were still tidbits of frolics and antics for which every reprimand would come along to it. Logan and Killian had become inseparable from the moment they had shared a room together, in spite of having an ample household for one for each. Logan seemed daunted by obscurity and loneliness, and Killian was the one to stand up for him on such affairs. They could just gab for endless hours and not even notice when they finally dozed off amidst nighttime. A bond dawned between them, and Killian found the friend he never saw in anyone else. Killian was 13 when he figured something was wrong with his brother and the medical tests and special care began. Logan wouldn't come out to play like he used to, and he would spent the days lay in bed attached to a machine. He was soon diagnosed with leukaemia and given a treatment which left him completely exhausted to do anything at all.



Killian would spend hours reading for him beside his bed, and so he did for a whole year, until Logan stopped his doses and was declared a healthy boy that could retrieve the life he had been deprived of.



ADOLESCENCE: 

This carried on for a few years before the illness struck him, and went more aggressively on him. Logan didn't respond to treatments this time, and his parents decided to let him live as long as he had of living without the grim environment of hospitals and such. Logan coped with a couple of months before the downfall commenced. Killian would isolate himself from any interaction with the family and his acquaintances at school. He would remain reticent and hold a deadpan stare at those who attempted to get a word from him. By the age of 12, Logan died in his abode, they no longer shared. Killian was seventeen years old when it happened. Moved by the loss of his son and the lifeless stance of one of their children, Aggie and Max bought him a pup that he named Shade. It was a strong recommendation from the psychologist that he was seeing ever since Logan's infirmity and thence.



Regardless of efforts, the bloke went on a terrible depression wreaking havoc to his family and to him. With his brother loss he got assigned to a psychiatric treatment and therapy sessions every two or three days. This, however, roused something within him when he became so engrossed into himself that he began listening voices in his head and glancing random images from people he didn't know and some he did know about. It seemed all so muddling to him, mustering memories and deems that didn't belong to him. He could read through people's mind without knowing and believed he was being called when they were only thinking of him. This could do nothing but aggravating his mental state at the same time it helped him gain sense and sanity. Within 3 weeks or so a stranger arrived at the manor with the possibility of taking Killian away, which they believed would be the best for him. It was a sent individual from the St. Bethany school for gifted children as him. Killian was bestowed with the opportunity to forgo everything he had lived for and leave it at hindsight.



The young fellow was taken to an a place across the world, named Bellefonte Academy to a brand new start in a different country. Slowly and progressively, with the aid of his psychiatrischen he could reinsert himself into society, after years of self abandonment and seclusion. Time and hormones made its way oozing through his emotions and throes, forcing him to venture into actually striving to relate with others (even romantically, as a matter of speech). And so he did, until he was in age of studying a bachelor degree for which he opted for psychology, in order to unravel the mysteries of the clouded human mind.




ADULTHOOD: 


Past a year, or so, the bloke had been given the chance to terminate his A levels through the Academy, in spite of having to travel all the way to England to ensure the legitimacy of every paperwork involved to his education. It was more of a whim of his father that he concluded the English system, and he was forced to festinate a little, in order to fulfill it. After a strong grueling task, he found himself exhilarated by the site he had somehow transformed into a household. Killian retreated to Bellefonte and enlisted for the College programme, for which it took a little longer due the difference between scholar standards. Psychology ensnared him as anything else had done, and he commenced a little late on January, contrary to a normal start on June (scholar protocols due the A levels). Along with the mare magnum of changes and the flotsam and jetsam of varieties, Killian was introduced to his new psychiatrist, for which he developed and incredibly irrational and ludicrous crush on him. Tristan Cameron Hurst, as so named, is, according to Killian's description the sexiest man alive walking on Earth. The two shaped a rapport (yet more of a friendly respectful relationship, although Tristan was aware of his infatuation), and Killian would always flirt shamelessly at him, for which a simple smirk is given in return, along with bantering.



Tristan roused deep lustful thoughts into Killian's mind that were properly discharged with different people (may it be females or males). His sexual condition, however, is a strict professional secret between his psychiatrist and him, and the numerous couples he's had throughout his short stay at the campus - each of them swore to take the secrecy to the grave. In a psychological vision of his symptoms, he intends to escape livelihood and its dull inanities through a cocktail of oddness in his veey own fashion. Nonetheless, being a renowned public figure, his affairs are the scuttlebutt of a daily basis, and it's something quite a few have a scrutinising gaze upon.



On a complete different angle, and swerving from a regular scholar life, Killian was taught to control and have a grander grip upon his abilities. When he was finally able to aim for the mind he specifically wanted to read, a bundle of complications ensued, when some elements around him began to hurl and rattle inexplicably. The bloke was admonished about the effects and he was told that his powers were evolving and that the more he worked on them, the more they could grow. Killian was startled at first, though in a matter of years he managed a more collected self.



At the actual moment, Killian is going through the beginning of his eighth semester and about to conclude his major and attain his degree, and proceed with a masters in human interaction and communication - he is still doubtful on which one.







SAMPLE:

Sufficient to a midday rapture the train stopped by the station in its habitual gait, slowing down gradually until every single engine detained from spinning and the steam leaked through the front pipe, clogging the machinery with its frothy essence. Verrell’s gaze downed to the newspaper he was holding ever so impatiently. Visits often decayed the French’s mood for amusement, as the soirées he attended consisted of a thronged place with slum interspersed all over the field, as though they needed to span each centimetre of the building, and with no single trace of regards to any of them, as either being conceited to a level of narcissism, it was odd to encounter a decent person to commute words with. The Slytherin was worn out from the toils and he was pretty disgusted with the overall of trysts and reunions. Viviane, his sister, had shunned each of the events, in her old fashion with puttering on her column for the Daily Prophet – he had begrudgingly agreed on joining the festivities, following his mother’s bid. Verrell sighed, although the sigh was flooded with intense rage that exuded through his bearing by the flushed cheeks that seemed to redden his features in an almost inhuman manner.

Clad in his finest clothes, he had nothing better in mind than sneaking into a gal’s abode in the dorms of Slytherin, resorting to a few choices before actually intending himself to it. A white scarf wrapped around his neck, some wool emerald sweater underneath and a pair of impeccable fit jeans clinging to his shape was the perfect attire for a welcoming session by the entrance. He strutted nonchalantly through the threshold in his usual pace, tramping hastily, still wary of keeping all elegance to it. Since the bloke had pretty much devoured everything harboured in the cabin, he was satisfied and he was heedless on skipping supper. Close to evening, it was uncanny he would leap to bed without aliments, though this exceptional occasion was more urged by lust and the throe to have his senses ensnared again. Verrell swerved his path at the usual corner and carried on until the very entrance of the Common Room within the dungeons. The portrait door opened with a crack and he slipped inside in no delay.

Verrell let his lids parted and permitted the dimmed light to prod his pupils, having a whit or so for them to adjust to the obscurity engulfing him. The scent of roses impregnated his nostrils, coming from the tousled golden tresses cascading behind the gal’s nape. Uncertain of the time, he slipped off the bed and reached for the mattress verge, clawing it firmly before stepping on solid ground on his shoes as he began shuffling through the room into the very exit. Shutting the door closed behind, he tossed the shoes away and strolled bare-feet through the stoned flooring, quite careless on the move. However, the flickering shine from the grate reached out for him, summoning his presence to the very staying room where an absentminded loony was seated on the hearth, so close to the fire it seemed as though she wished to char herself. The bloke stared with disbelief as he contemplated the scene, believing it was more of an illusion than an actual happening.

With the rest of his garments, except for the jeans, ditched to the nearest furniture, the bloke scurried hither, with a completely bare torso, exposed to the nearness of flames as he enclosed the girl in a sudden and hectic embrace as he pulled her away from her actual stance. “Longing for death, uh?...” he muttered at her ears, having her held in his arms with strength to prevent her from moving, “…there are less hazardous and painful ways to it…” he mentioned quite brusquely, he tightened the squeeze to calm her down, attempting for her to regain some sanity to her wits.

USERNAME: Edward


AGE GROUP: Mid Twenties


EXPERIENCE: Ten years or so...

WHERE DID YOU FIND US? Dear friend of mine asked me to join

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