miska

Full Name; Mihály Báthory
Nicknames; Miska
Birthday & Age; October 19 & 17
Blood Status; Pureblood
Hometown; Debrecen, Hungary
Languages Known; Fluent in Hungarian, German, Russian; his English is only functional
Sexual Orientation; Openly gay
PB; Jono McNamara

Year & House; 7th & Stolypin
Classes; CoMC, CoDMC, Dueling, History of Magic, Potions, Transfigurations
Familiar; None
Quidditch; Seeker--is not quidditch captain and (won't admit he's) a bit irked about it.
Prefect/Head Boy; Sweet Jesus no.
Wand; 12', purpleheart with dragon heartstring
Patronus; German shepherd
Boggart; His mother's ghost

First Impression; Laid-back and easy-going, Miska doesn't let much get to him, though you might suspect he laughs everything off just to avoid trouble. Mostly, life's all just one big, fun adventure, and he puts his all into everything because it's just so much more interesting that way. Passion is Miska's middle name, though it could also be Stupid, and he's easily caricatured as some hyperactive rodent. He's very accepting and genuinely likes most all people, though he's too flighty and unreliable to keep many close friends. Also: Miska smokes like a chimney.
Likes; Quidditch, dueling, blood-flavored lollipops, dark beer, playing quidditch, palinka, baking, playing the violin, talking quidditch, all sorts of music, reading non-fiction, rainy days, practicing quidditch, espresso, kahlua, chess, and did I mention quidditch?
Dislikes; Being idle, fruity wines, lazy people, wasted time, eggplant. Not that much, really.
In Depth;
Miska gets bored far too easily. He could just deal with it like a normal person, but no, he goes out and tries stupid things. As a reckless thrill-seeker, he'll probably die young in a horrible self-inflicted accident, but he's cool with that. It doesn't necessarily take an adrenaline rush to hold his attention though. Miska devours books on the most random of subjects in one sitting, never moving from his spot until he's done, yet he keeps stacks of library books that he'll never read past the first page. It's always a coin's flip whether he'll finish what he starts, and Miska's the same with people. He obsesses over things and people when they first catch his eye, but he generally loses interest in them after he thinks he's got them figured out. That doesn't mean he suddenly becomes a jackass and won't give them the time of day, just that Miska can't be bothered to remember their name anymore. Despite that, he keeps a few close friends, and he's terribly clingy and loathes to part with them.

Needless to say, he's epic, epic fail at carrying out a romance that lasts longer than roughly one week, but he's at least managed to remain dedicated to is quidditch. He likes to say that he's married to the sport, which is believable enough, but quite frankly, Miska has trust issues. (He won't admit that.) Miska fears losing people more than anything else--which is why he easily devotes himself to quidditch since it's not like it'll get up and walk away from him--and avoids the problem altogether by not becoming close to people. Needless to say, Miska doesn't have the best logic in the world, nor does he possess much in the way of common sense. (He won't admit that either.)

Exceedingly vain, Miska likes attention. He needs to be noticed and acknowledged, especially since his mother passed away. Without her unconditional affection, he's been stranded looking for some other constant in his life to cling to in her stead. It's not his intention to be self-destructive, but when Miska doesn't know what to do with himself, he ends up going out at ungodly hours trying to make stupid look stylish. He adores people of all sorts, they fascinate him, and he always hopes he's found someone to spend the rest of his life with, even if he knows he's probably only found someone to spend the night with. And that's fine too, at least for now.

Parents;
» Báthory Szilveszter, father - After the fall of communism, Szilveszter opened a small private bank on Bűvös Kör. It's not small anymore, mostly because it ate up anything and everything in its way. He's always been a distant father, but he and Miska maintain a chess game played by owl, so they still exchange letters frequently. Mostly, they don't talk about anything personal, instead they discuss economics, politics, and quidditch in excruciating detail.
» Else-Marie Kröger, mother, deceased, ghost - His Austrian mother, the pillar that supported his word. She died during Miska's fifth year at Durmstrang, which made Miska an emo little boy for a year or so, especially because she remained in the house as a quiet, mournful ghost. She doesn't talk much, but she does recite his favorite children's books to him on occasion.
Siblings;
» Zoltán Báthory, brother - Zoli's always been a responsible older brother, and he conjured up some maternal instincts to care for his younger siblings after their mother died. Now a professional quidditch player, he doesn't have much time for his kid brother, but he checks up on him when he can. Miska looks up to him, and fancies himself a better quidditch player (he's not), though the point's moot anyway since Zoli plays Keeper.
» Kata Báthory, twin sister - Currently the head girl of the female side of Durmstrang, Kata has watched over Miska ever since they were little. She thinks of him as an adorable but clueless puppy that she needs to take care of. She runs a stock portfolio in his name, which he appreciates, and takes joy in embarrassing him by showing all his friends his baby pictures, which he really does not appreciate.
Cousins; No one in particular, and none ingame atm.
Personal History;
The Báthory family, irregardless for countless good deeds, are infamous for birthing a particularly bloodthirsty lineage of vampires. Originally a benevolent wizard-king of local muggles, the Báthory clan separated itself from the muggle world, and their outbreak of vampires saw their return to the wizarding world for good. Born on the family's estate by perfectly normal means with his twin sister Kata, Miska is not a vampire. He does enjoy blood-flavored lollipops, but that's just because he's weird like that. His childhood was normal and uneventful, though he was a rowdy, energetic child that did his absolute best to make his nurse's life a waking nightmare.

Unsurprisingly, Miska went off to Durmstrang when he turned eleven. His parents worried that he was ill-suited for the academic environment, but their fears were misplaced. Always a curious child, Miska liked learning, loved it even, and he didn't need any discipline to finish his homework on time. Miska happily read ahead in his textbooks and made ample use of practice rooms, for so long as the course material held his interest anyway. Luckily, most classes moved along fast enough to keep him entertained, though his grades took a suicidal swandive whenever classes progressed slowly.

In his fifth year, his mother passed away. To Miska, it felt like his entire world fell apart, and it took until the end of the school year before he salvaged his cheerful face from the dumps again. He'd tried throwing himself into his schoolwork as a distraction without any success. He went through his first and only real romance*, forged more out of Miska's neediness than actual affection on his part. That remains the only time he's ever managed to stay faithful in a relationship. He's proven many times by now that he's not too good at this commitment thing.

*If anyone's looking to be in a longterm relationship before the game starts, I'm leaving Miska open for that. Otherwise, once the game starts, I'll edit this to clarify that the relationship ended at some point.

Luckily, at his brother's suggestion, he had tried out for Stolypin's quidditch team. They took him in as a Seeker, and quidditch became the better part of his life. His dedication to the sport remained even after he got out of mourning, and he's taken it more seriously with every passing year.

The Player;
Age; God I feel ancient.
Email: zestina@gmail.com
AIM; ooc: qweendomcome
CDJ; lazrisen, scroll down for samples

Third Person;
He went flying in the morning when he was at home, before sunrise when it was still quiet. At school, if Miska had a chance to sleep in, he inevitably stuck his head under the pillow and stayed there until his stomach grumbled so loudly he couldn't ignore it any longer. Summer was different; he liked to catch the sunrise if he could, and he mostly slept during the day anyhow. It wasn't like there was much for him to do until the pubs opened up for the night anyway.

Miska wasn't really up to anything in particular. He'd tell people he woke up to watch the sunrise, but after months of that, it hardly demanded your undivided attention anymore. Instead, he just flew around, maybe thinking, but mostly not. He did enough thinking when he sat down for meals with his father anyhow; if he didn't want to drill Miska on the latest stock exchange rates, he'd still have to come up with an opinion on the latest quidditch transfers. With his brother out of the house and his sister in Brussels, Miska was the only one for him to talk at, and the peace and quiet of the morning were beautiful things.

Down below, Miska caught sight of a grey figure wandering through the gardens. She was always up early, same as him, though she roamed around enough that he rarely spotted her. Miska drifted to the ground to to join her, even though she didn't seem to need any company.

"Morning, mother," he said as he approached. She glanced at him, all silver and vapor, and didn't reply, but he didn't expect her to. She didn't talk nearly as much since she died, but that never stopped Miska from trying. "How've you been?"

First Person;
Amsterdam's sexy at night, you know that? The city, I mean, not the people. ...That's came out wrong. The people are sexy too, but that's not what I'm talking about here. We're talking city, the bright lights, not as tacky as some other places, but still ranking pretty high up there in the tack-o-meter. And the skyline, sweet Mary, the skyline. You want to go flying in a sky of smog-filled beauty? Look no further. I think the ministry patrol pulled me out of the clouds twice before they took away my broom. Or maybe it was three times--I lost count. Anyway, they're not happy with me, something about rules and sobriety and not giving muggles heart attacks. Well, too damn bad for them. And my broom. Anyone know how to get confiscated stuff back from the coppers?

I saw a boy with a bright pink drink in a martini glass. It bubbled. The drink, not the boy. I asked the bartender for the same. He warned me. The bartender, not the boy. But the boy would've been a warning if I'd looked at him twice.

So Amsterdam's sexy at night, which is good, because I have no clue where I am. Or what I'm doing here. And I can't feel my legs. It's fantastic!