<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/beauxbatons/professor1_zps81ffe063.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name (PC):</strong>Professor Ciaran Philippe Bellerose (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=193964.msg9463946#msg9463946)<br/><strong>Relationship Status:</strong>Single<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Suit (http://www.printkiller.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/3cnipIS3RbEjyNG1.jpg)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Brussels Carriage<br/><strong>Date:</strong>Sept. 1st<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Professor Desiree Fauchex, Professor Jerome Bellerose (Mentioned), Open<br/><hr/><br/>Ciaran had been enjoying the relative peace and quiet of the carriage. The students who trickled in had found each other vastly more interesting than they had found him, and as his hung over head throbbed just a bit, he was secretly happy for that. Not that he wasn’t excited to be a professor… just the opposite, in fact… he just really wanted the headache to go away. This would have been the ideal time for Jerome to be around. The older man never did much appreciate having to brew remedies for Ciaran’s wild nights, but it kept him from being embarrassed by his younger relation so he had always relented. The fact that Ciaran had gone through the last of the small vials Jerome had given him within a week of being on his vacation was a bitter sweet reminder of just what a<em>fabulous</em>time he’d had.<br/><br/>He could almost forget about the nightmares when he was so drunk he could hardly stand. Absinthe was definitely a wonderful concoction, and though he knew from personal research that it was a muggle drink, he wasn’t entirely convinced that a wizard hadn’t had a hand in its creation somewhere along the line.<br/><br/>His thoughts were still traveling along that line of thought when a soft bark caught his attention and though the sound was brief, it was loud enough to make his head throb. Turning his bright eyes toward the woman and animal standing there, he immediately swallowed the groan of discomfort that wanted to leave his throat and brightened considerably, his mood lifting at the sight of a beautiful face.<br/><br/>The woman standing before him was elegant and refined, though he really could have thought of a dozen other outfits (some with absolute minimal clothing coverage, admittedly) he would rather see her in. Tilting his head to the side at his own thoughts, he immediately stood and held out a hand to her, and the moment she took it, he pulled off his glasses and bent to brush his lips over the cool skin of her knuckles. “Ciaran Bellerose,” he introduced himself. His voice still held the slight gruff of one who just woke up, though aside from his slightly disheveled clothing and not-quite-perfect hair, there was no outward sign of his hangover at all.<br/><br/>“Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor. And before you ask, yes that old stuffed shirt Potions Master is my brother. Mores the pity,” he said melodramatically, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. He didn’t mention that he admired his brother… didn’t mention that he’d have died (and very nearly did) to protect him. Didn’t mention that he’d looked up to that very same “stuffed shirt” as if he were the measure of all a person should be in life. At one point he had attempted to emulate him, but had failed miserably in a record short period of time. It would appear, it seemed, that his fae blood gave him far too wild a side to ever be the calm, structured, studious Jerome.<br/><br/>Deep within him, Ciaran felt a dark swell of anger and annoyance at his life as he realized he had left off the title he used to take pride in revealing… Former Auror. When he’d been with the ministry he had always carried himself with a sense of duty and authority in every move he made… he’d been a good Auror. “One of the greats” he had been told, but that was all behind him, and the fact that his name was still famous meant nothing to him. They didn’t understand, those people who admired his reputation, who knew his name. They didn’t  know the costs… the things he’d had to do… had to see. They’d never know. Could never know. Would never know, if he was alive to prevent it. He’d go back to the order in a heartbeat if it meant preventing another war, but that seemed a long ways off now. No point in dwelling on it.<br/><br/>Pulling his thoughts back to the present, he refocused on the gorgeous creature before him, gently lowering her hand before turning to look at the animal who had announced her approach. “Well hello there,” she said with a grin, kneeling and patting his leg. “Any man this fair maiden sees as worthy of being her companion is a man worth knowing,” he announced, and if the dog came close, his hands would immediately move to reward him with a thorough scratch of his neck and behind his ears.