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Park Jongsoo

" the world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes "

0 · 390 views · located in Wizarding World

a character in “Nox // Lumos”, as played by themis



FULL NAME // Park Jong-soo // Jong-soo Park


AGE// Twenty-four

SEXUALITY// Heterosexual

NATIONALITY// Korean-Japanese


ImageImage HEIGHT//5'10
SKIN TONE//Pale olive

      He is the opposite of his brother in many ways, appearance being one. From his thick, furrowed brows to his sharp bone structure, he is the knife-sharp to Seth's rounded and soft. He's built slightly shorter than him, muscle fibers intertwine and encompass each area of his body, growing each year with strict excercise they expand and contract with each breath from his lungs. Tidal waves of soft black hair, broad shoulders tapering in a 'v' to his hips. His simple, masculine charm is heightened by the wide ribs and strong jawline of a Park.


      INTJ: It’s lonely at the top, and being one of the rarest and most strategically capable personality types, INTJs know this all too well. INTJs form just two percent of the population – it is often a challenge for them to find like-minded individuals who are able to keep up with their relentless intellectualism and chess-like maneuvering. People with the INTJ personality type are imaginative yet decisive, ambitious yet private, amazingly curious, but they do not contain their energy.

      LAWFUL NEUTRAL: Those of this alignment view regulation as all-important, taking a middle ground betwixt evil and good. This is because the ultimate harmony of the world--and the whole universe--is considered by lawful neutral creatures to have its sole hope rest upon law and order. Evil or good are immaterial beside the determined purpose of bringing all to predictability and regulation. It is the view of this alignment that law and order give purpose and meaning to everything. Without regimentation and strict definition, there would be no purpose in the cosmos. Therefore, whether a law is good or evil is of no import as long as it brings order and meaning.

      CHOLERIC: The choleric temperament tend to be task-oriented people and are focused on getting a job done efficiently; their motto is usually "do it now." They can be ambitious, strong-willed and like to be in charge. They can show leadership, are good at planning, and are often practical and solution-oriented. They appreciate receiving respect and esteem for their work.







      The infamous wizarding detective Park, known for his preciseness and accuracy. His true appearance is only known to a select group, yet he is still hunted by several organizations. Wizards in Russia, Cambodia and Togo offer gold for his death. Others want to capture to torture. But, just who is he?

      Park is an often curious creature. His life dedicated to the pursuit of justice, he sees a monochromatic world of two contrasting types, yet he does not squander before raising a gun in defence. His glacial exterior, detached, monotonous dictation of gruesome events, lack of social skills, and intellectual brilliance may be the only side of him some see, yet he is not a monochromatic man by nature. Quite the opposite- his mind is technicolour and a spectrum of variegation. From crime-scene red to milk-coffee beige, his life is more than it seems to be. He is more than he seems to be. There is warmth beneath the Arctic, and however subtle it is, the warmth is still there. One paying attention may notice his small gestures of kindness, the slight pull on the corner of his mouth; unseen, unless you are really looking. A few, may have seen him laugh; it is a rather amazing thing to witness, a moment of wild indiscretion from the man who makes it seem like every move in his head is planned out to his grave- similarly, it is rather odd to see him in his natural state , but many have reported hearing the soft drone of a cello from his apartment, the smooth aquatic state he enters in a swimming pool, one former colleague swears he heard him singing in a honey-baritone to Frank Sinatra.

      Park Jongsoo, or simply "Park", is a mysterious man, even to those who have worked with him for years. They only know that he can solve almost any crime, without dying (thus far). Merely a couple of people have truly known him, some long-dead and others long missing. They may note him as caring in his own special type of way. Even his colleagues have noticed that he really does care about each life on his team, even though sometimes he does not act like it. He hates death and mortality on an unsettlingly deep level, preferring to combat and fight it at every opportunity. Social skills= not his forte. He is upfront about most things, & not understanding the intricacies in the social hierarchy, he would talk to a child in the same way he would talk to the Minister of Magic. His colleagues say he is "rather unknown about" when it comes to anything but crime. He's not a drinker, nor a smoker, nor a big quidditch fan. Rarely anything is known about what he does with his personal time.

      But he is brilliant, there is no denying. When he first arrived at Hogwarts from Tokyo aged eleven, he was fluent in four languages and fitted in easily in Ravenclaw. His crime-solving skills are impeccable, his record for solving is untarnished, bar one incident in the Balkans, yet he often is in a little bit of trouble with the law for breaking various ethical codes. His methods are often considered a little bit bizarre in their nature but they are almost always effective. This may seem a His innermost self is still the scared boy who sees his father lying in a pool of blood on the ground each night when he closes his eyes. His past explains a lot of why his character is like what it is today, up until the present with his mother's brain wilting away, his life has been tragedy after another. He just doesn't want more people to get hurt . When he cares about a person, it is deeply, and unfalteringly loyally. To befriend him is to work through each barrier, and for that he would be truly grateful.

      ImageSWIMMING/RUNNING: A creature of order and regimen, Park employs a schedule of physical exercise every day. mostly it is swimming or running. He's grown accustomed to the feeling of his heart beating in his throat, his feet matching the speed of his mind. He has grown accustomed to the weightlessness of the water, holding his breath for minutes. The weightless feeling, if he closes his eyes he can almost imagine himself floating through the cosmos.

      SINGING/MUSIC: Solitary lullabies after the sun has settled under the clouds; he soothes himself with the gentle resonance of a familiar sound. It is something he keeps to himself, but he is a rather avid singer. He has never sung in front of any more than himself yet he spends his evenings writing songs that no one ever hears, plucking his guitar until the dents in his fingertips are crimson and blue-tinted, singing songs from days past. It's a way for him to reflect and remember, a way for him to get his emotions out in the easiest way possible for a relatively emotionally numb person.

      HIS FAMILY: Although he lives by himself (bar his crup) in an apartment his mind has nicknamed ''purgatory", he sometimes wishes he was still a kid, drinking tea in his Grandfather's people-filled house. He misses having a large family, or any family at all for that matter. His mother is so far-gone she may as well be six feet under already.


      DEDUCTIVE REASONING: His mind is an ancient temple- smooth marble, kept clean, it inspires and sacrifices. Syllogisms. Logical arguments that apply deductive reasoning to reach a conclusion based on two propositions that are assumed to be true. His mind is a being of it's own, constantly analysing the world around him; so much that he grows weary of constant words. His world is all binary. (01100110 01100001 01101001 01101100 01110101 01110010 01100101)

      INTELLIGENCE: Books are just printed words on manufactured paper, yet they mean so much. Words are the most powerful weapon you could ever handle, and is grandfather always told him he should treat his words like a sword, utilising every swing he aims to solve the worlds problems from the tip of his tongue. His mind is as wide and open as the plains, each iota of knowledge stored inside is precious to him, and each holds a fond memory whether he learnt it in school between the whispered light of lumos under his bedsheets, or whether he is still learning it now.

      DUELLING/OFFENSIVE MAGIC: Unlike his brain, his body never was naturally capable. It is almost as his brain was miles ahead of him at any time; yet through years of toil, trial and error and constant practice, he has gotten the hang of his capabilities as a Detective/auror This talent was learned through the grit of his teeth, the blood on his heels and the sweat from his forehead. In a way, he is most proud of this. Natural talents are easily cultivated, but learned talents rarely harvest as easily.

[/right]FLAWS //
      PEOPLE SKILLS: Preferring the rationality of textbooks and formulas to the unpredictable flexibility of social "rules" (if you could even call them rules, as they change with the wind; phrases we used last week go out of fashion the next, things that were acceptable yesterday are not today. It is all terribly confusing for him.) The wildness of our culture's social rules could never compare rigidity of law and order- the laws on which our entire universe is based. Look around you, every organism follows a law.

      DIVINATION: He is deliberate and vivid. For those without the gift, divination is imprecise and often the answers are clouded by mist, if there at all, and for him there is nothing but his glare reflected in the cold glass of a crystal ball. It almost bothers him that he cannot gain the gift of divination even if he practised for the rest of his career. It is illogical, even, yet he has come to accept it.

      PTSD/DEPRESSION: Witnessing his father's death brought a strange force to his soul. A case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder [symptoms including flashbacks, nightmares, repetitive distressing images or sensations, pain, nausea, insomnia) that is still being combated to this day. A strange de-sensitivity lies somewhere deep inside him.


      Throughout his life, there has been no one for him to continually rely on. No one he has ever loved he has not lost, no one he has ever cared for he hasn't seen hurt. Continually, through tragedy after tragedy, grief has become an old friend of his. Perhaps his entire life is but a simple Aesop's tale; a personal warning for him. 'Beware of getting attached, as you are the bad luck charm, you are thanatos' son and the world blackens under your fingertips'.

      His life began in an unfortunate and fairly scandalous manner- he was the product of an affair. His mother, Misaki Kojima, a British-Japanese woman who they named the newest Helen of Troy. Being the daughter of the godfather, Hiro Kojima, of a magical branch of the Yakuza, the story goes that her face had launched one thousand guns. His father, Park Won-Il, head of one of the most famous wizarding families in Korea, had been married to a formerly poor muggle by the name of Song So-Ra in what they now call a 'flame' romance. Of course the flame burns bright at first, but it burns fast, destroys all that touches it, and quickly it fades to nothingness. The affair had been ongoing for a few years, in-between a few 'business trips' to Tokyo- one of them in which Jong-soo was born. Although Won-il had been planning for years to divorce So-ra, he only divorced her when she announced she was with-child. This child of course would spell grave tragedy for the Park family in the future, growing up to become Song Seul-Ki, or "Seth". However, his father gathered his money and moved to Tokyo- moving in with Misaki, to their dirty-money- paid penthouse apartment. There, Park Jongsoo was raised, born into a life of privilege and white collar crime. A frighteningly intelligent child, speaking full sentences before his first birthday, writing before his second, cursive before he entered nursery; his increased intellectual capabilities were noticed by both his parents and his teachers.

      They called him a genius at five, watching him read ancient books with trained eyes, old as sin. They called him a prodigy at six when he recited Principia Mathematica for them at the dinner table. Each year he figured his tricks grew less impressive, less grand, and so each year he would upgrade them until they were simply unbelievable, impossibly challenging, even for him. On his eleventh year he did not perform a trick, instead his mother wished for him to attend Hogwarts, situated in Britain where she had lived until graduation; this was a daunting feat for such a young boy. However, he wanted to make his mother proud of him, and so he was off to the land of spired castles, ethereal Caledonian landscapes and unfamiliar regional dialects. He was sorted into Ravenclaw as soon as the hat touched a lock of his hair.

      His presence was near invisible in Hogwarts. Even now many alumni are surprised when he tells them he attended the same school, at the same time as them (he is not offended, nor surprised at this fact). You wouldn't notice him unless you noticed the kid at the back of the class with the slightly foreign accent who had his hands raised in the air for the majority of the class. That is not many, even those who do have a hard time believing that he looks like he does now. Back then his eyes held visions of hope and wonder, his face was more rounded and delicate, now he is world-weary and his jaw is sharp. An illusion, they call him now. Sometimes he is accused for lying about this, but what reason does a rational man have to lie about his alma mater?

      Trial and tribulation arised in his fourth year. On a winter break back in his home, Tokyo was peppered in fine snow. Away for a simple hour, he returned to find his home a museum of catastrophe. Bookshelves turned over, chairs slashed, exposing the millions of weaved fibres underneath, a glass of unfinished port is broken into an untold number of pieces- each reflecting the winter sunlight filtering through an open window. His father lay, his head touching the marble on the ground, his body a dead living exhibit in this museum of catastrophe. Droplets of cochineal liquid surrounded his head, a halo of the massacre. He was still and unmoving as a corpse, and they say you could hear screams in each corner of Tokyo that hazy winter afternoon. When the wizard authorities arrived, they suspected a dark wizard. But why? his father had kept on the moral side of the law and there was no reason he could've been murdered. Well, of course he was murdered... but it would have to be someone else. The clue that damned Seul-ki's fate was but a handwritten letter, Won-il had planned to give to him on his eighteenth birthday; suspiciously it was ripped and thrown on the counter. Until then, he had never known he had a brother, yet suddenly he hated him... what was he, eleven years old? and already a patricidal maniac. How could he do this to his own father? Was ice running so deep in his veins that it made him glacial? were the chemicals inside his brain liquid magma, lethal acid, or mercury?

      He had driven himself near insane with grief. When he returned to Hogwarts, even those that had even barely knew him were concerned. He seemed different, almost like he had been replaced; his voice became monotone and his eyes glazed. They were dead; with no spark, no moment of glitter or existence in them. Often, he would be excused from class for having panic attacks. It was rather a pitiful stage for him to be in, but after a year his personality calmed, closer to what it is today. He devoted the remainder of his time solely to learning, doing something to distract himself. He barely moved from between classes and the library, gaining excellent grades, perhaps one of the best in his year, on his OWLS and NEWTS. He graduated with the hope of becoming an International Wizarding Detective, a category of Auror, a dream that was realised almost a month after his graduation. Slowly, he gained his track record as becoming one of the most infamous detectives of the century. The rest has faded in his mind.



      -Mandarin / Cantonese
      -Latin / Greek
      - German
      - Russian

So begins...

Park Jongsoo's Story