Christophe D'Anjou

[Christophe D'Anjou]

(James McAvoy)

Who is it there staring?

Name: Christophe D'Anjou
Age | B-day: 25 | March 3, 1850
Position: Stagehand

Hair: Brown, kept fairly short and neat
Eyes: Blue
Markings: As anyone who was active as a young boy, he has various, faded scars from a few accidents, the most noticeable one being located beneath his chin near the jaw bone that he gashed, falling when he was running. He also has a faded mark in the palm of his hands from trying to catch a quickly falling set by grabbing the rope, which proceeded to give him a rope burn. He has a birthmark about an inch in diameter and a centimeter in width in a sort of odd, jagged oval shape on the back of his left knee.

Learn to see, to find the man

Phobia: Snakes. He simply freezes the second one darts out in front of him, refusing to move until it is out of sight. It's been something that he hasn't seemed to be able to shake his whole life.
Habit: When nervous, he tends to tense his hands, either rubbing them together or placing them awkwardly against his body. When bored, he tends to chew his nails.
Pet Peeve: Telling Christophe he's absolutely wrong and you're right when you don't have what he believes adequate proof for your conclusion is not a good idea. He will argue his point, promptly walk off, and/or give you the silent treatment as long as possible.

Personality:
Christophe is, for the most part, a laid back person. However, he is also very opinionated about things, and should you mention something he has a definite set of beliefs about, he is promptly drawn in regardless of whether or not he was in the conversation to begin with, and he adamantly will sit there and discuss the topic no matter how heated it manages to get. He can typically shake off the debate and go on like nothing happened unless the person makes some sort of preposterous claim that despite what he says, that person's right and he's wrong, especially if he believes the arguments he gave were more sound than the other person's. As a friend, he tends to be loyal unless he's betrayed, but he's also not afraid to tell the friend that he thinks that he is dead wrong in what he is doing.

As a worker, Christophe is very diligent. He sticks with it, doing his best and makes sure it's finished before going on with his life. This makes him a valuable asset as others do tend to goof off backstage during the performances and practices. This frustrates him beyond belief, and he will take the lead and act like the boss regardless of whether or not he is. If it's time to work, it's time to work. There is a time and a place for everything. He also tends to stay out of the discussions that involve mentioning the ballerinas and chorus girls in a risque or offensive manner as he believes in showing people a little more respect than that regardless if it's deserved or not. Women are the weaker gender yet the fairer sex and therefore should be treated as such in his books.

What kind of life have you known?

Family:
Father | Andre D'Anjou | 58 | Alive
Mother | Fleur D'Anjou | Deceased
Aunt | Gabrielle Durand | 45 | Alive
Cousin | Slylvie Durand | 25 | Alive

History:
Christophe's life has been one of little importance. He views his life as quite boring, to be honest. He was born to Andre and Fleur D'Anjou on the eve of March 3, 1850, an act that caused his mother to die due to complications. Therefore, he was raised by his father and his aunt, who lived nearby and had had a daughter only months before, nursed him, helping where needed. He wasn't provided with much schooling, and to this day he only has enough knowledge to do basic sums, sign his name, and do some basic reading. It's all he needs to get by in life, so he doesn't complain. He sees such things as reading books as frivolous and unnecessary, a waste of time in essence.

Growing up, he helped his father around the house, keeping up the things that were necessary, and it wasn't until recently that he's sought work outside the home. After all, they were able to make money with what they were doing, but the year before, their crop was ruined, and it became necessary to seek work, so here he is, helping out at the opera house. So far it seems to be working. Perhaps it's not as lucrative as other jobs, but with his lack of an education, some things are out of his reach, so he's not complaining.

Whose is that face in the mask?

Name: Jen
Experience: 5 yrs., 10 mos.
Contact: See my mini profile.
Other Characters: No one so far.

RP Sample:
(From "Browsing" on Last Resort)

"The sort of satisfaction I am receiving right now, Miss Lefcourt," Lance replied indifferently, reaching out and "straightening" it before setting the spoon across it. Glancing up at her, he continued in a sort of bored drawl, "The satisfaction I receive watching your mouth move and hearing words come out of it. I mean, it’s not often I speak with an intelligent girl with an accent who doesn’t simply call me ‘lad’ or ‘laddie’ and then go off to be with friends" Though truthfully, he didn’t really consider accents of other regions or Scotland or Ireland accents as he heard them far too often at Hogwarts or around. “It is refreshing, I assure you.” Feasible, perhaps, but it only went back to her statement earlier of not saying that her company was his satisfaction, but still as she did not know him thoroughly but instead knew only the facets he allowed her and everyone else to see as well as the one she assumed (and one knows what’s said of that), she could not say to him that he did not find her company or accent satisfying.

Now, of course, Lance didn't find any of this to be the case. He couldn't care less about Rika Lefcourt than he already did, for she was just an annoyance that really didn't matter in the general scheme of his life. He could put up with her, for certain, so she wasn't that bad, but she was too arrogant and absorbed in what she had to do or wanted to do. He'd never really seen her make friends with anyone. Sure, she must have made nice with some people--very few--but where did that Hufflepuff that died fit into any of that? What made him better than the rest of them that year? But then again, not even blood ties mattered if she killed family or those important to family members, so she obviously didn't care about humanity period in all reality, which was in a way self defeating as she was human herself, but whatever. Rika Lefcourt was just that: Rika Lefcourt, serious girl-turned-murderer. One situation sounded necessary, but otherwise?

But one thing peaked his interest in her whole description of those whom she'd murdered. "But if you don't mind my asking, Miss Lefcourt, why would Geoffrey Lefcourt wish to kill his own daughter?" After all, she had said that they couldn't figure out who had hired the assassin but knew it wasn't Geoffrey Lefcourt, which would mean they had had reason to believe he'd want her or them dead or both as he was even a minor consideration or even worth mentioning in her recount of whom she had killed. That was completely absurd, of course. The Lefcourt family may have been shady, but Geoffrey wouldn't have wanted his own flesh and blood dead, would he? Unless.... Well, there were at least two possibilities: one, she was such a thorn in his side that she wasn't worth trying to convert to his ideology or two, she wasn't really his daughter and her mother had had an affair at some point. He couldn't be sure which it was unless she said, but it was an interesting thought at the very least, one worth at least some research--perhaps over Christmas break in a few months. He didn't have time sooner nor did he care enough to set aside time to actually even research at all unless he needed something to do.