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General Information
Character Name:
Orion Cadieux
Age:
15
Date of Birth:
21 February 1906
Blood Status:
Muggleborn
Residence:
Gentioux-Pigerolles, France
Family:
Personality & House Preference
Personality:
They claim silence to be an absence of reaction, but isn't an absence of reaction a reaction in itself? This conundrum best represents Orion; tranquil, resolute and stoic, he appears to be made of marble–cold to the touch and boring a frozen stare. Orion is not particularly friendly; he lingers in the dark corners and enjoys solitude in the shadows. When he speaks, it is usually straight to the point, no layer of protection to his words that might lash like a whip on flesh. You also might not enjoy the sarcasm that drips from his words, neither will the sting of cruelty in his tone be enjoyable. He is a man of little words, and his expressionless face says very little about what his true thoughts are. Try to pry words out of him and you will be thoroughly disappointed by the lingering silence. Chipped and broken in many pieces as he is, however, beneath his jagged shards lies a complex individual, repressing a cocktail of unsaid thoughts that gnaw his insides, a self-deprecating soul darkening itself slowly but surely, more and more every day. Perhaps, if you're lucky enough, you might glimpse at his ugly truth, at the tar that poisons him, but also at something more…
History:
Trigger Warning
Mentions of child abuse
Mentions of child abuse
3 years old
“Regarde, chaton.”*His mother’s soft voice joined the serenity enveloping them. Stars caressed the midnight blue sky, the world revealing its masterpiece to him and his mother. He looked up at the heavens, trying to see the hidden message between the white blotches, trying to understand whatever her mother sought in them. She spoke of the gods and their sermons, the universe and its signs, his father hiding somewhere in the clouds.
He never could read anything.
“Look, we can see you tonight. We can see Orion.”
She pointed to the night sky. His gaze followed her thin arm, marred with scars, up to the sky.
“My sweet little hunter.”
The silence stretched between them. They stood, staring at the sky, unmoving. After a moment, shivers seized him, but Orion fought to keep his body stable. His breath fogged before him and the water lapped at his legs. He didn’t understand why they were standing in the water and understood even less how his mother could stand there, bare, without her body betraying her.
She sighed, the sound melodic in the starry night, in the middle of the creak, surrounded by thick trees.
The water rippled, his mother moving to face him. He stared ahead.
“My little hunter.”
He never really understood his mother and her odd antics.
“I must make you strong.”
Her hand suddenly latched onto his mouth and she dragged him underwater. He flailed, a reflex of self-preservation kicking in, but he didn’t wail. Staring at the smudged shadow of the stars through the water, he listened to the ramblings of his mother.
No, he never really understood his mother and her odd antics.
But he was already becoming rather good at dealing with them.
*Look, kitten
6 years old
“WHERE IS IT?! FILS DE PUTE QU’AS-TU FAIT AVEC?!"*Orion sat at the kitchen table, fingers stained with charcoal, different sheets marred with dark strokes. He didn’t bother looking away from his drawing, nor did he question what his mother was searching.
She crashed into the kitchen, sniffling incessantly, screaming as she swiped at the counters, sending dishes and bottles clattering. The floor became a sea of glass and for just a moment, his mother froze, staring at her destruction and laughed, doubled over like someone was tickling her recklessly. Then, she jutted back straight, realizing she’d come barreling in with a purpose.
“YOU TOUCHED IT!”
Orion kept his head down, ignoring his mother’s ramblings. Eventually, she got tired of the silence and grabbed the back of his chair and pulled.
“LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU, ASSHOLE!”
And so he did. Dull, lifeless, jet-black eyes stared right into his mother’s enlarged pupils. She gripped his shoulders and shook him.
“WHERE – DID – YOU—”
With a crash, she shoved him to the ground and suddenly stopped. Again, Orion remained quiet, despite his skin being punctured by glass, despite the scent of copper filling his nostrils, despite pain coursing through him. His mother suddenly collapsed beside him and she cradled his face, the blood a stark scarlet in contrast to his pale skin.
“Mon chaton, maman est tellement désolée. Pardonne moi, s’il te plait, Bon Dieu pardonne moi!**" she spewed, holding him to her chest, wailing and crying, looking yet again to the heavens for guidance.
Orion, again, simply stayed quiet.
*Son of a bitch what did you do with it
**Kitten, mommy is so sorry. Forgive me, please. Good God forgive me
8 years old
“It’s simply, madam, Orion’s not been at school in a while—” “Oh, I’ve been teaching him!” his mother responded excitedly to the teacher who came to visit them in their decrepit home.
She’d been the first one to care. The first one to ask questions. The first one to look at what was his home and look rather mortified by the sight. The first one to look concerned about the stench emanating from his mother, to overlook all the scent of essential oils and identify something else.
No one in their little village asked questions. The only visitors they received were to see La sorcière folle*; the one who claimed she could speak to spirits and the deliverer of the angels’ messages. They came for answers and his mother happily gave it to them. Satisfied, they left, not even questioning themselves about the absurdity of how all of this looked around an eight year old.
His teacher hesitated in the doorway.
“I must insist—”
“He’s perfectly fine, I assure you,” his mother responded with a kind smile. “Have a nice day!” she said next, closing the door in his teacher’s face.
She returned to the kitchen table and sighed happily.
“Now, where were we in our studies? Ah yes, Archangel Gabriel.”
Orion nodded, accepting his fate.
*The crazy witch
11 years old
He rolled his trunk to the front door and laced his shoes. He stood in the entrance, waiting for his mother. One of his mom’s regular clients offered to help them get to London, where Orion would leave to learn magic. His mom had been ecstatic of the idea that her little boy had magic swimming through his veins. She’d repeatedly told him how proud she was, how the stars had blessed him, her little hunter, with strength. Her feet pounded on the ground, and it appeared that joy had been siphoned out from her.
“Bon c’est ça, tu me laisses. Tu as marre de moi*."
Orion remained standing at the entrance, waiting for the onslaught that usually followed. As planned, his mother erupted.
“You’re leaving me! How dare you leave me! After everything I’ve done for you! Imagine, having to play the role of both parents—”
She marched back and forth, throwing her arms, speaking to herself and to the gods. Orion looked over his shoulder, the sound of a car horn catching his attention.
This had been a mistake.
“YOU CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT ME ANYMORE!”
She latched herself to him, her nails sinking into his neck.
“YOU’RE LEAVING ME! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME!”
Her voice and expressions wavered between deep sorrow and frustration. As always, her eyes seemed out of focus, and she sniffed and sniffed. When he tried to pry himself away from her, her hand, of its own accord, slapped him.
Orion was thrown back. He tripped over his trunk and the back of his head hit the door. His legs gave out and he slumped to the ground. He looked at the ceiling and could see stars in broad daylight.
“ORION!”
His mother crouched beside him and held his face softly, whispering sweet nothings and apologies. Again and again, the same words.
Again and again, his heart clutched despite his best efforts.
Again and again, he couldn’t help but be sorry for her.
And—
“I’m so sorry, my sweet. I’m so sorry. Pardonne maman, s’il vous plait.**"
Again and again—
"Oui, maman.***"
*Okay so you’re leaving me. You’re tired of me
**Forgive mommy, please
***Yes, mommy
House Preference:
Pretty sure this kiddo screams Slytherin vibes, but I'll let you guys make the final decision
Year Preference:
Fifth
Prompt Response:
He didn’t understand why a letter would be addressed to him. Why not his mother? She received a considerable amount of mail, many with large, red stamps on them. His, on the other hand, was made of a nice paper and sealed with an intricate wax seal.
Him and his mother sat on the sofa, staring at the envelope until his mother gently encouraged him to open it. The seal broke, releasing nothing, but Orion felt an odd tingling at the tips of his fingers, spreading through his body. He couldn’t quite understand what it meant, but for some reason, this felt…positive?
Carefully, they read the letter over and over again. Eventually, Orion detached his eyes from the parchment to look at his mother. Her face didn’t show any emotion, other than the furrowed brows, trying to grasp, just like him, what this all meant. After a few minutes hanging in the silence, his mother lowered the letter and offered him a small smile.
“My brave, little hunter. The gods have chosen you.”
Her eyes glistened with emotion. Her hand ruffled his hair, and she bent low to kiss his cheek.
“You are made of stardust, my sweet Orion. Now, you’ll learn how to use it.”
When his mother rose to fetch them a celebratory snack from the kitchen, Orion looked over the letter once more. Confusion still reigned above all. He didn’t understand, still.
What he did know, however, was that if this did happen to be a gift from the gods, then he’d misjudged his first impression, and this could only be horrible, horrible news.
Miscellaneous
Other Characters
N/A
How did you find us?
In my dreams
