BANE, MAGNUS.

[magnus]

MAGNUS BANE!



This is my life


AGE
around three hundred.

GENDER
male.

SPECIES
warlock.

HOME TOWN
madrid, spain.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS
dating worshipping alec.

OCCUPATION
head warlock.

My strengths and Weaknessess

As there are far too many strengths (in his arrogant opinion), we'll start with the "few" weaknesses that take their toll on Magnus. The painfully obvious weakness he has is, drumroll please, Alec. After spending all of his time making attempts to win the boy over, he's basically tied to him for life. There's nothing he wouldn't do for the other--well, Alec would have to do some damn begging to make him miss out on an episode of What Not to Wear (have you seen the transformations?). Call him old fashioned, but that's how he rolls.

Then, of course, there are the less impressive weaknesses, which include: glitter, bright things, rainbows, raspberry jam, and feather boas.

His obvious strength is magic. There's a reason he's High Warlock, right? While he likes to flaunt the fact that he's extremely powerful, he's not as violent as you would think. Another strength of his is that he knows when to stop (magic-wise, perhaps not wardrobe-wise). He's not the type to rashly grab a sword and throw it at the nearest demon; he tends to think things out a bit more, which usually works out to his advantage.

My History

Magnus Bane was born in the seventeenth century. He was pretty much the king of bad childhoods; as soon as his mother found out what he was, she hung herself on the farm they lived at. Following that, his father attempted to drown him; instead, Magnus burned him where he stood (a clear example of early power). From then on he was raised by the Silent Brothers of Madrid, Spain. The Silent Brothers did virtually everything for him; they gave him room and board, fed him--hell, they even named him. However, when he reached age sixteen, the Brothers saw it fit to cast him out into society to fend for himself.

Magnus takes his part amongst the others when he is asked by Clary's mother to erase her memories of all things Downworld. Later, he is tracked down by Clary and the others; he is found at his home, hosting a lavish party (as usual). There he meets Alec, who he is immediately attracted to, and openly flirts with the boy--who is still in the closet. His next few encounters with the others are spent healing Alec, helping out Clary (mainly to see Alec), and battling against demons. At one point and Alec start dating "secretly", mainly because the other was still in love with Jace--however, all was not lost; before the final battle, their relationship was made known (in front of a good deal of people, too).

Roleplay Sample

It all started with the hallucination.

Hallucination – a false or distorted perception of objects or events with a compelling sense of their reality, usually resulting from a mental disorder or drug. An illusion. A false or mistaken idea. A sensory experience of something that does not exist outside the mind.

A desire for something you cannot have.

That was what it was, he decided. A desire for something he simply could not have. The more he thought about what he couldn’t get, the more he wanted it. It was an endless stream of things like rules that kids broke just because they were held back. The feeling, so overwhelming, of need consumed him entirely. Who had done this to him? Who had made life so miserable that illusions could not suffice for his pained heart? Perhaps ... Fate. Fate had made it clear that, when they met, it did not like him. He never took it very seriously, though. Fate expressed its utter disgust in him when it made its usual morbid appearances. Then it left, leaving someone’s reborn body to rise again or someone’s unborn child to crumple and fall. Life went on. No one gave a second thought about Fate once it had given them what they wanted, or taken away their dearest necessity—their will to live. It was only at times when everything was taken from you that your thoughts drifted back to the unknown.

What else was there to think about?

The first thought had been a simple, fantastically grotesque thought: death. It would take the pain away, right? As the thought grew, its spindly, elongated black tendrils leeched their way onto every angle of his mind. They laced themselves in-between old thoughts and feelings, tracing their way and embracing each aspect of his life with jagged and prickly desire. And his thoughts adapted to their touch. Would it be so bad to let loose from the world? To fall endlessly into an abyss so sinister and bleak that not even the mere reflection of love could spur him from his sleep? And would anyone really miss him? The words of spite that others had fashioned nipped and sank into him every bit as spiny as the web that started it all. His heart sank deeper and deeper into cynicism and doubt; not even the tiniest bit of remorse could reach him. The back of his mind, free from the ever-nearing coils of covetousness, was at work; what would happen if he came back? He himself would be lost forever. Even the bluest of the blue could not save him. He had inevitably saved him again.

The most important of all thoughts was not going to surrender to this...thing. This beating, pounding thing that made him suffer through endless nights of insomnia. The thing that made him want to rip apart his chest again to scoop it out, dripping lust and all, and cast it back into the oozing depths where the dark thing resided. It whispered to him, kept him up. He had tried to block it out in the beginning. He had boarded up the doors and strapped every window in the room with a thick, crimson tape so that no light could have possibly intruded upon his misery. Charred remains of roses lay scattered on the floor. Tattered, faded pages from books that were of no use crumpled, strewn across the bed. And in the midst of all the chaos and confusion he would stay, knees pressed to his chest in a desperate attempt to shut out the voices. The voices that crept up to his ear, willing him to close his eyes to completely shut out the light and never let it return to him.

He had spent most of his life hiding things. It was life’s turn to return the favor.

As it went, it took God roughly seven days to bring everything into existence. Time-wise, that’s a pretty good work rate. The thought of what any one person could do in a day was inconceivable; yes, there was a limit as to what one could accomplish. However, the time used to process each individual task was inexplicably unpredictable. Working your way through ten hours of sweat-drenched economy took—well, ten hours. The discovery of something magnificent, whether it was noticing how crisp the shade of blue of the sky was that day, or a more intimate aspect, such as love, could vary from anywhere between a fraction of a second to your whole lifetime. This particular task was much more time-consuming in that he had no idea where to begin with; having had immoral views, the indignant excused from his presence, there was no correct place to start at. Each thread of thought led to another, which led to another, which manifestly led back to its origin. And each day he was left exactly where he started.

The voices had returned.

“I can’t...” The moan had slipped from his lips unintentionally. He figured he wouldn’t keep the shadows waiting very long; not only was it lingering at his core once more, but it was also, frankly, quite rude not to finish his thought. “I can’t go. Not now.”

The irritated hissing ceased a few moments later, and the thing watched him with a curious expression. It was a wonderfully nauseating fight for a boy of only eighteen. Even the blue slits, which radiated a red from the tape on the windows, still blazed with a fierce potency.

The demon’s lips barely moved as he shifted so that his body rested at an awkward angle, his head plastered against the wall as his body shuddered in hideous rhythm with his pained and rapid breath. Sweat dribbled down the side of his arched neck; every now and then his fingers would twitch, or his eyelids would flutter, and the malevolent, forked tongue of his desire would flick and nip him once more to probe the depths of his sanity. It wouldn’t be long, the thing reasoned, before his body would be sated with the sin of centuries. Then, perhaps, it would strike. For now the savor of pain would suffice.

Another inward groan, this time unafraid to leave its owner, stirred the thing’s thoughts.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving this place—you can’t make me stay any longer...” his jumbled words, scratchy and worn-out from the heat, tried to make sense of each other. He heaved himself off of his plastered form against the wall and shuffled to the edge of his bed.

The dark thing chuckled.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ The demon gritted his teeth, jaw clenched, as he forced himself to sink off of the bed and pull himself the last few feet to the doorway. Ignore the voices, he told himself. Ignore them. They’ll go away soon enough. It only held its grip on him when he listened to it, right? He was clutching the wall, now, pulling himself through to the main area of the apartment. Each wall pulsated red, and everywhere he looked made the sinking feeling of perpetual anguish more apparent. He could not escape. He sank to his knees, crying out as the voices reached him again. They encircled him in, grinning wickedly, in a tribal-like celebration of victory. He clutched his head. The pain was too much...

He found that old memories returned to him in flashes. Jackson’s pink feather boa. Daileh stealing oranges from the science department. Alice daring him to climb the bell-tower after hours. Jay trying her damned best to get him to smile after junior year, when they blew up his cake accidentally. Tia running into his arms for the first time. Blake and Kjara slipping their fingers into his mouth to pull it up into a smile when Jay seemingly failed. The group hug that lasted for hours and hours when Jackson accidentally tripped down the stairs and was sped to the emergency room (and the scolding after Ezra laughed at the pink cast he got). The look on Sammii’s face when they were pressed together in the middle of the Secret. The bright blue eyes that trailed over every inch of him with the deepest passion he’d ever known...

The spell was broken as the crackle and dawn of another voice split the tension. He looked up.

I know that voice... A bemused look crossed his face as his eyes surfaced again. For a few moments they lingered on the floor so as not to strain his vision too much; slowly they rose again to meet the door’s level. Someone was...knocking? Who wanted to see him now? He was pretty sure he had driven off every single person that he knew. Unless it was Stefan or Kaden. Maybe they had teamed up against him. Yeah, he could see that. Coming to finish him off and put his dead body on display for all the world to see. They’d like that. Only...it wasn’t two voices. It was one. One very, very familiar voice. Only he couldn’t put a name to it. Every syllable pierced his mind until it dug deep enough for recognition to surface.

Ezra, please, wake up!

Ezra was shocked back into the world. The shallow hisses of the dark thing slowly faded in comparison to the intensity of the cries and pleas for help that came from just outside his apartment door. “What...?” he croaked, struggling to come to a standing position. His muscles tensed and fell noticeably limp as he staggered forward, pulling on a jacket that hung loosely off of the back of one of the chairs at the counter. The chained, black pants dragged across the floor as he shuffled along, tugging at his t-shirt numbly and rubbing his eyes to perhaps regain control of his mind once more. Finally he reached the door, and with a grunt, he ripped the wooden boards off their hinges. A frown twitched at his lips as he carelessly tossed them to the side. Screw the screws. He’d get them out later. Resting his hand on the handle for a few moments, he turned it and swung open the door.

The look on his face went quickly from annoyance at having to have pulled down his masterpiece of a blockade and getting up to answer the door to annoyance that he was right in that it was Dani to wondering why she’d even show up in the first place to wondering what she was carrying to...noticing.

He cried out, arm snapping up and caressing Sammii’s cheek at the sight of him. His eyes flashed with worry and fear and his mouth dropped open in shock; this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to Sammii. Not to him. Sammii was the one that was always happy—he was the Disney character. The kid. He wasn’t supposed to...you know. He wasn’t supposed to show up in Dani’s arms with blood trailing down his own. “What happened...I don’t...why?” He wasn’t making sense. Then again, he wasn’t to be blamed; the boy he had been searching for non-stop was finally here. Only...not in the way he had expected. “Sam—” his voice cut off harshly as he choked. “I’ll...hospital...?”

Without thinking, he enveloped both of them in a hug and jerked them to the hospital.

ooc; wow sorry. -__-; the last part was crap.

well, this next one's shorter, but i like it better. (:

Declare this an emergency
Come on and spread a sense of urgency

When you were spinning through space, it felt less like the earth was ripping out from under you and more like you were being removed forcefully by it. The wind hurtled around them, whipping through his hair and making their clothes rage; his jacket flapped around them and snapped against his face as he shut his eyes tighter. He shielded the two feebler with his body, clutching them to his chest in a desperate attempt to keep them alive. It was like trying to press his body against a balloon during a tornado; if he held on too hard, he’d press into the dripping wounds, and if he didn’t pull close enough, he’d lose them forever. This was why he didn’t like to teleport with other people. There was always the risk that he’d be no match for the force and he’d drop them along the way, which either lead to stranded friends or...well. He didn’t like to think about the other option—especially not when it involved Sammii.

The entire process of teleporting somewhere took a fraction of a second to the average eye; to him it seemed to take a little under five seconds. First, he had to focus on where he was going to go. He needed either the name of a place or a crisp image of his destination blazing in his mind for it to work. When he was younger he’d experimented with names like “Neverland” and “Candy Mountain” only to find himself, very confused, in the middle of the line for a ride at an amusement park. The next step, of course, was pushing his power out to actually take them where he wanted to go. It didn’t drain him at all, though, like other powers; it felt like a spark emitting from the tips of his fingers which required no more energy than picking up a paperclip. Lastly, he needed to hold onto them long enough so that they’d all end up in the same place (alive). Teleportation was a mysterious skill that not even time benders could imitate.

And pull us through it all
And pull us through it all

He pulled them out.

The landing hadn’t worked out as well as he originally planned. When they hit the cold floor of the hospital, three things went wrong. The first was that he had intended them to show up at the area right in front of the emergency room, and because he had been too worried about keeping Sammii’s body parts intact, the image had flickered. Instead they landed about twenty feet to the west, in front of the receptionist’s desk and a series of frustrated doctors, annoyed nurses, and frightened interns (three strange people, one of which was dying, appearing in the middle of everything didn’t exactly help that). Paper scattered up due to the force that they had exerted when they hit the ground; the air was a mass of falling sheets, records, and screams of those around them. As usual, Ezra made his appearance with flair. Unintended flair, mind you, but flair nonetheless.

The second thing that had gone wrong was his balance was off. His feet hit the ground at an awkward angle, and he stumbled backwards and crashed into an older woman, who wasn’t too pleased at having the demon fall backwards into her lap. She started to snap at him angrily, yelling something about how having a strange, absurdly dressed man with awkward flamingo hair crushing her internal organs was not something she wanted after having discovered that her oldest grandson had an STD. He wasn’t too worried about being smacked with a cane, so he ignored the rambling of the older woman and pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the dirt that had either come from the old woman, the floor, or the field of space and time (it was quite dirty as no one bothered to clean it very often).

The third thing that had gone wrong was that he was missing something. At first he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the sense of something he had forgotten overwhelmed him. Frowning, he quickly reached into his pocket and drew out a pocketknife. He flicked the blade out and held it up to his face, after having glanced over his body for any missing parts, and his frown deepened at the sight. Great. The pigment in his eyes had been left behind. How could you lose the pigment in your eyes?! He turned the blade to the side a little bit to see if it wasn’t just the light. Nope. His eyes were the lightest shade of blue possible, almost see-through. Just peachy. He grunted, slipping the knife back into his jacket pocket, and quickly glanced at Sammii and Dani to make sure they were okay. They were fine (not fair), much to his relief; he couldn’t be bothered with going back into the field of space and time to look for a missing eyebrow.

And this is the end, the end
This is the end
Of the world

His eyes refocused on the scene. People were flailing this way and that, bumping into each other and spurting phrases of nonsense. Apparently they weren’t used to people falling into their hallway faster than the speed of light. Huh. Go figure. He scratched his neck, opening his mouth and trying to grab the attention of one of the racing nurses. Unfortunately, each time he attempted to plead for help, the nurse would turn away and head in the complete opposite direction, screaming. What the fuck?! he thought to himself angrily, watching as people dashed by him on either side. “Hey!” he yelled, annoyed; people continued in their mad frenzy, shooting him a frightened look as they passed. Wasn’t this a helpful hospital? “HELLO? Isn’t this a hospital?!” No one stopped to answer him. They screamed, jumped, and tried to collect the sheets of paper that were scattered around the reception desk.

This was annoying.

This was also utterly useless. Any time he tried to explain what he wanted at this damn hospital, they would turn and run away from them. Honestly, what was so frightening about a six foot tall demon with blazingly fierce eyes who appeared out of nowhere during the busiest time that night (not to mention the two odd-looking people he had taken with him)? It was impossible to convince them that he wasn’t trying to kill them. Finally he gave up on trying reasoning with them. Grunting, he shot his arms out and grabbed the two nearest doctors by the collar. He lifted them up so that they were at his eye level and gestured to Sammii, putting on the best glare he had when he faced them again. “Save him. Now.” He growled, dropping them on the ground; they squeaked a little and hurried over to Sammii. Shortly after their encounter with the “scary man”, they had him hauled away.

And it’s time we saw a miracle
Come on, it’s time for something biblical
To pull us through it all
And pull us through it all

It had been a while now.

A while here was roughly equivalent to one and a half hours. Three hours trapped in a room with Dani James. Three hours trapped in a room with the only other person he had ever known to love Sammii as much as he himself did. Three hours in a silent hell icier than the deepest, darkest depths of a heartless demon’s soul. He didn’t know what to say—what could he say? He wasn’t going to strike up a conversation about something they both liked, because the only thing he knew they both liked was sitting in a room somewhere, being taken care of by a group of terrified doctors. So he sat in silence.

And this is the end, the end
This is the end
Of the world

Three hours.

He had thought about going out to get a few roses to give to Sammii when he woke up, but was stopped by the thought of missing him actually waking up. The thought that a doctor would come in and tell him that everything was okay, and he could see him now. So he stayed.

Three hours of flipping through magazines.

Three hours of silence.

Proclaim eternal victory
Come on and change the course of history
And pull us through it all
And pull us through it all

Three hours, fourteen minutes, and seventeen seconds was how long it took to save a life.

Three hours, fourteen minutes, and seventeen seconds of silence.

The doctor walked in, a grim look settling upon his face in a way that clearly showed his discomfort at having to talk to the two of them.

“Mister...Hart? And Miss James?”

His heart stopped.

“You may see him now. Follow me.”

And this is the end, the end
This is the end
Of the world.

[ADMIN]

Accepted, Welcome to My Mortal Instrument