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Location: No Information
Born: 3 November 1992
Website: No Information
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Alias: Shark
Age: 25
Timezone: No Information
Mature: Yes
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Character's Age: 65
Gender: Male
Blood Status: Pure Blood
Relationship Status: Married
Partner: Cécile Roux
Gif (210x105):
Nickname: No Information
Former School: Beauxbatons
Joined: 4-November 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Dec 10 2017, 12:07 PM
Local Time: Jan 20 2018, 07:27 PM
5 posts (0.1 per day)
( 0.20% of total forum posts )
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Aurelien Roux

Media Personnel

My Content
Nov 18 2017, 07:59 PM
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Things were moving in many directions. Like pieces upon a chessboard, Aurelien was attempting to think so many moves ahead of his opponents. Position his pawns into a network towards the fastest route to victory. But he couldn’t always account for everything. There were moments when someone who thought erratically made a move, and shifted the dynamic he was betting on. But he was hoping for his special tool to come into effect, one of these days.<p>

Sitting at his desk, he read the page in his hand, reviewing some information one of his many informants had given him. The man had to keep his head to the ground and keep listening for whatever that may come. He had to stay ahead of the game, no matter the costs. The clock chimed eight times, signaling that it was eight o’clock. <p>

His eyes darted towards the clock and sighed, placing both his reading glasses and parchment onto his desk. With a sigh, he stood up from his and walked around it. He started to make his way out of his office and down a flight of stairs leading into the basement. He was to resume his previous efforts, for it had been awhile since his last visit.<p>

Crossing the cobblestone room, he walked through a wall. For as he did so, it shimmered and waved as he entered. Disturbing the illusion as Aurelien walked down the hidden hallway. Passing by a series of thick iron doors, the older Frenchman stops before a singular door. Brandishing his wand, he waved it across the door and muttered an incantation. Loud clanks and turning of gears began to emanate from the door as it began to open.<p>

From the doorway he peered into the dimly lit room and gazed upon the form of his… guest. “Salut Mademoiselle Mathis.” he greeted as he entered the room, waving his wand to summon a chair out of the ground and taking a seat. He gestured towards the other chair and nodded with his head. “Sit, we have much to discuss about today.” he said, but more of an order. And as that happened, the door slowly closed behind him.<p>

“Has my darling wife been feeding and treating you well?” he asked, his face showing no emotion. He really couldn’t give a damn if she was being treated right or not. But it was just common courtesy at this point. <p>

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tagged: Avery Mathis


Nov 11 2017, 04:51 PM
Aurélien stood at his office window, looking out upon the little people walking. His hands in his pockets he watched and judged. How many of them were purebloods? How many mudbloods and blood traitors walked the cobblestone streets below? How long would it be before what they did in France come to England? The wait would be bothersome. But part of Aurélien suspected he would need more leverage on Ministry members before he did anything else.

Aligning allies was something he enjoyed doing. Gaining people to the cause, but also making people complacent. He lulled the public into a false sense of security as the wars waged in the shadows, behind the scenes and out of prying eyes of the public. The idiotic public who allow filth into their lives. Muggles brought nothing to the table, except to dilute the bloodlines of prominent families. There was no reason to have them at all.

Turning away from the window, he took his hands out of his pockets and removed his coat jacket, placing it on the back of his chair. Pulling out his chair, he sat in it and pulled inward. Now he was sitting properly at his desk, and looking over the articles that were dropped off that day. Looking over the pages, his brow furrowed. It was all hogwash, and full of errors. These imbeciles just keep giving him more work to do. Some of them drivel on about nonsense. Who cares?

But the public needed to be docile, and if anything worth noting happened, he would do whatever was necessary. However, it was quiet on that front. It was just news as always, and sports. Celebrity gossip. Nothing he needed to concern himself with. But he had a job to do. Fixing up these articles to look better for the paper. Make notes in the margins to say what would be better, underlying errors. Scratching out text that is useless.

But in all of this, he felt agitated. There was much work to be done for the cause, but nothing he could do for the paper. Something needed to happen, and soon. But that was when there was a knock on his door, Aurélien gazed up from his papers and spoke loudly, “Come in.” with a command his eyes darted back towards the papers. Still reviewing what would be added towards tomorrow’s edition of the Daily Prophet.

Without raising his eyes up, he spoke once again. “What is it?”
Nov 11 2017, 04:50 PM
(Last week of June)

Aurelien stood next to his desk and stared at the clock. It was early in the morning, but there was a purpose for the old Frenchman to be in the office. It was the summer, and many of the graduate students at the wizarding schools will be coming to him to look for employment. This was a tedious time of the year for Aurelien. He’d prefer to be working on stories, instead he had to weed out those who aren’t worthy of working at the Daily Prophet.

He might as well start getting his office in even more tip top shape. All the books are in order, all the files, all the accolades and other assorted awards. The lion head bust, which adorns his desk, polished to shine and is in a position that no matter where you are in the room, it feels like it is staring at you. His desk is also in order, all the papers neatly stacked, his quill placed evenly on his table.

Everything was meticulously placed. Not a hair out of place, not even on himself. He had to appear proper, so did his office. His strawberry blond hair, though greying in parts, was neatly slicked back so that not a strand came loose. His beard, neatly trimmed. He looked respectable. Now he only hoped that those who came through his office doors looked the part as well.

Looking at the mirror in his office, he started to straighten his jacket. Just to be sure there was nothing out of place of course. After he had made sure of that, he went over to behind his desk and sat in his chair. It was five minutes to opening. This was going to be a long day. A long week. With a sigh, Aurelien placed his hands onto his desk and folded them on top of each other. He was now ready for the first wave.
Nov 7 2017, 04:14 PM
The attack started early in the morning, and continued for what felt like hours. The ones who have perpetuated the attack hasn't come forward to claim responsibility and has left many casualties in its wake. The list of casualties is long, and we at the Daily Prophet expressed sadness over this senseless attack. Though we encourage vigilance against further ones, and from what understand the main target seemed to be the Muggle leader in Paris, which has left many wizard-kind dead and many more injured.

So far the aurors nor the muggles have released an official death count, but it is suspected (due to the damage caused) to be high. Information is scarce and the governments are tight lipped. If any of those who have witnessed this attack care, please inform the Daily Prophet of what you have seen so that we may cover even more of what had transpired.

Will update as new information is brought to our attention here at the Daily Prophet.

UPDATE: One who was within the area and had witnessed the attack claimed it was perpetuated by muggles, and it drew in by-standing wizards and witches into the fray. We at the Prophet are saddened to learn about such things, to know that lives were lost in such a fashion. Hopefully we'll learn from this and have a tighter security. Hopefully those in charge in France will learn from this outrageous event.
Nov 7 2017, 03:46 AM
Aurélien did what he always did first thing in the morning. Get into his freshly pressed suit. Today was a solid colour, deep navy blue, just a shade away from black. Fine smooth silk, adorned with finery that is to be expected of a man of his station. His cufflinks in the shape of lion heads, made of gold. And a watch, also gold but this is of white. He buttoned up his jacket and spent a few minutes of breakfast with his wife.

He cared a little for his wife, though it was always just for the continuation of the great lineage of his house that he married her. He and his wife shared pleasantries, as he sat down and enjoyed his simple breakfast, eggs and toast. Along with a glass of orange juice. He ate his breakfast in silence and listened to his wife talk about the news. But Aurélien already knew what was in the news, he got first look after all.

Though he supposed he couldn’t hold that against her, she is getting up there in years. Upon finishing his breakfast, and dusting off his suit of any loose crumbs, Aurélien kissed his wife goodbye for the day, as it is the proper thing to do. And left for the office. He always arrived early to work, before a lot of the other younger staff members. He felt he needed to be there early to get ahead of the curve, so he could do his job properly.

Despite all his flaws, the man did truly care for the paper. He cared for the news and of reporting the facts. But he also cared about image, and his ideology. Which could sometimes come into conflict with his caring of the facts. Sometimes he would bend the truth to get a story. Such a thing was never so low for Aurélien, and he imagined he would continue to do so, no matter what.

When Aurélien arrived at the office at seven am, he would briskly walk to his own office, giving cold greetings along the way. He wasn’t here for pleasantries. He was here to run a successful paper, and by everything that is pure, he will do just that. If his people would work with him of course. There are a few who are late, and don’t follow along with what he has envisioned for what is good press. But the worse ones in the company? The lazy ones, who don’t have an excuse and just not do their job on time.

This is what he must deal with, had to deal with regularly for years. It is true, he had fired a few of these guttersnipes. But they always seem to pop back up. Like a bad case of mudbloods. Entering his office, he walks to his desk and begins to settle in. He removes his coat and places it on the back of his chair. Places his briefcase up against his desk and sits in his chair, prepared for the days work ahead of him.

He started to read the many news reports that were placed on his desk after he had left last night. He would have to pick and choose which ones would be put into the paper, or which needed to be edited and worked on some more before it could be presentable for the ignorant masses. And this is Aurélien’s life, going through these silly stories. To who does it matter who won last nights quidditch game? Such a silly sport. There are more pressing issues in life.

But as the morning pressed on, there was one article missing. Well, one reporter missing. Standing up and pushing his chair back, Aurélien straightened his vest and excited his office. He walked with purpose, and each step was one filled with pride and dedication. He walked down a series of desks, people hard at work like bees in a hive. Him standing tall above the rest, and when he arrived at the desk of who he was looking for…

There was nobody. She wasn’t in yet. Looking at his watch to see what time it was, and it was just nine fourteen. Late. Pulling his sleeve back down, he turned his gaze to the desk across from where he stood. “Where is Ms. Hardwick?” he asked the girl sitting at the desk, who spun around the moment she heard his voice. Her eyes went wide, looking like a doe caught in a headlight. “I don’t know Mr. Roux.” She said, with an exasperated sigh, Aurélien looked around. Everyone within the immediate vicinity stopped and looked at him. “When she dares to deem us with her presence, tell her to get into my office.” He said, turning to go back to his office. “Back to work. Now.” He ordered, marching back to his office.

He’d just have to wait until she deemed to show up. If only he could fire her. But he had to play nice, appearances are everything after all. Upon returning to his office, he walked back around his desk and sat back down. He would have to wait before her report, again.
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