Post by frankie on Jan 27, 2008 13:01:56 GMT -5
Oliver Harkness}
name; Oliver James Harkness. Don't even attempt to call him Ollie.
age; Nineteen.
affiliation; The Black Hearts. ♥
appearance; Hair - the debateable colour of either very dark brown or actually black - adorning a head usually with it's mind on things other than appearance, Oliver manages the "effortlessly handsome" look quite fantastically. He's quite the womaniser, & needless to say, the women sure like him back. His casual glamour is certainly his best feature, although Oliver will quite happily roll out of bed, crawl into his clothes & delve into the day without a second thought; running his fingers through his hair when he finally remembers he forgot to brush it that morning... then remembering he doesn't even own a brush.
Standing at roughly 5,9, it's easy for Oliver to draw attention to himself, though he prefers to stay out of the limelight. & yet at the same time he has the ability to divert attention away from himself if the odd distraction is needed to escape a sticky situation. The mischevious, glacier blue eyes glitter manically; blink & you'll miss him as he suddenly vanishes in a puff of his own cigarette smoke.
A single scar runs down his left cheek from a fight back in the days when gangs were just beginning to form. He was attacked with a knife, managed to fight off his opponent & escape with the thin blemish, made more noticeable when he smiles, which he rarely does anyway: it's more of a smug smirk, perhaps satisfactory as he watches the victims of their gang tortured into submission.
personality; Oliver is a quiet young man, but as they say, it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for. While he doesn't particularly care for petty violence, he prefers to play with his food before he eats it; & while the newspaper headlines scream of young women being abducted from their hometowns, killed by the terrifying gang known as the Black Hearts, it is far simpler than that. Oliver lures them willingly, they fall for his charms, his pretence of honesty & understanding. Then once he's caught them, they're trapped for good.
Oliver is at a level of sadisticness that it begins to become frightening. He carries a knife on his person at all times that has wounded - & often killed - many. He has very little sympathy but is a brilliant actor. He can pretence any emotion when it is required.
history; Oliver Harkness's background is a little sketchy, he rarely talks about it himself. He was brought into the world to a mother who died giving birth to her first & only son & a father who only wanted a son for one reason alone: to continue his lineage. Although he was born in London, his father took him to the city in which the gangs dwelled. Oliver grew up with the Black Hearts, as his father was a member himself. He was taught all the necessary skills from a very early age. He could hold a knife without injuring himself before he could walk; could aim a bullet for a target with perfection by the time he was five; he was quite the extraordinary infant.
Things could a drastic change when Oliver was thirteen. He was now a fully-trained teenager when it came to fighting, but too young to be an official member as his father had planned for him. Mr Harkness was set a task that he failed to complete, & the leader of the Black Hearts (before Carson) was furious. Harkness was killed for his mistake, a dire warning for Oliver, who took his father's place with little to next emotion at the loss of his father. He's been with the gang ever since.
likes;
dislikes;
goals;
fears;
sample;
It happened in a flash; a flash too quick for Sirius's reflexes. He'd heard the gut-wrenching CRACK, the sound he knew to be the branch breaking, & his head had spun round so fast to look at Layla that his neck made a cracking noise just like the branch.
She was hanging there, hanging on the branch above for mere seconds, & then her arms were wavering & her body was falling, & Sirius tried to lunge for her, tried to grab her hand, but where it had been a moment before was now only air. Layla was screaming. & Sirius wanted to shout. Shout for help? Shout for Layla? Shout a spell that could save her before she hit the water? But his throat was dry, & then -
SPLASH.
The screaming stopped, as if muffled by a watery, slimy hand as the Lake engulfed Layla. Sirius's eyes searched frantically, but the Lake was almost black in the darkness & he couldn't make it out. He waited for a fraction of a second, waiting for Layla to bob back to the surface, to come up, a little shaken, but laughing at her jolting experience.
But she wasn't re-appearing. Then where was she?
Sirius's voice came back to him. Still clinging onto the branch above him, he stared down into the darkness. Someone was shouting Layla's name. He realised it was him shouting, calling for her, almost pleading her to appear. 'Layla, Layla, Layla!' He blinked furiously, willing it to be a dream. He'd wake up any moment now in the comfy armchair by the warm common room fire, & Layla would be safely sleeping in her bed in the dormitories, & he'd laugh about the dream, maybe tease Brown with it. She'd roll her eyes & tell him the day she followed him up a tree would be the day pigs flew.
It wasn't happening. He was awake, & Layla... Layla was beneath the water, maybe drowning, maybe already drowned, & Sirius was standing there on the branch while she might be dying.
Before he knew what he was doing, he let go of the branch, pushing himself off the branch below so his feet were only standing on air as he fell, preparing himself for when he collided with the water. He had jumped, jumped from the tree, & he was plummeting down, down, down into darkness. He took a deep breath &...
The icy cold water pierced him like a thousand daggers. His throat seared as he forced himself to keep the oxygen he'd taken in before in his lungs. He could hardly see in the dark water. The thought of Merpeople & Grindeylows, the Giant Squid & other such water-dwellers crept into his mind, but he had no time to think about the monsters of the Lake. He kicked his legs wildly, pushed out his arms, but he didn't know which was was up & which was down. He was a good swimmer but had never swam by night.
But only one word drummed into his mind now. Layla.
She was hanging there, hanging on the branch above for mere seconds, & then her arms were wavering & her body was falling, & Sirius tried to lunge for her, tried to grab her hand, but where it had been a moment before was now only air. Layla was screaming. & Sirius wanted to shout. Shout for help? Shout for Layla? Shout a spell that could save her before she hit the water? But his throat was dry, & then -
SPLASH.
The screaming stopped, as if muffled by a watery, slimy hand as the Lake engulfed Layla. Sirius's eyes searched frantically, but the Lake was almost black in the darkness & he couldn't make it out. He waited for a fraction of a second, waiting for Layla to bob back to the surface, to come up, a little shaken, but laughing at her jolting experience.
But she wasn't re-appearing. Then where was she?
Sirius's voice came back to him. Still clinging onto the branch above him, he stared down into the darkness. Someone was shouting Layla's name. He realised it was him shouting, calling for her, almost pleading her to appear. 'Layla, Layla, Layla!' He blinked furiously, willing it to be a dream. He'd wake up any moment now in the comfy armchair by the warm common room fire, & Layla would be safely sleeping in her bed in the dormitories, & he'd laugh about the dream, maybe tease Brown with it. She'd roll her eyes & tell him the day she followed him up a tree would be the day pigs flew.
It wasn't happening. He was awake, & Layla... Layla was beneath the water, maybe drowning, maybe already drowned, & Sirius was standing there on the branch while she might be dying.
Before he knew what he was doing, he let go of the branch, pushing himself off the branch below so his feet were only standing on air as he fell, preparing himself for when he collided with the water. He had jumped, jumped from the tree, & he was plummeting down, down, down into darkness. He took a deep breath &...
The icy cold water pierced him like a thousand daggers. His throat seared as he forced himself to keep the oxygen he'd taken in before in his lungs. He could hardly see in the dark water. The thought of Merpeople & Grindeylows, the Giant Squid & other such water-dwellers crept into his mind, but he had no time to think about the monsters of the Lake. He kicked his legs wildly, pushed out his arms, but he didn't know which was was up & which was down. He was a good swimmer but had never swam by night.
But only one word drummed into his mind now. Layla.
