[quote][quote][table][tr][td][b]Broom Racer? [color=#ffffff]NO[/color][/b][/td]

[td][b]Quidditch Player? [color=#ffffff]YES[/color][/td]

[td][b]Duelist? [color=#ffffff]NO[/color][/b][/td][/tr][/table][/quote]

[quote][b]Stats:[/b]
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[center][b][i]STA : 6 | EVA : 7 | STR: 5 | WIS : 8 | ARC : 6 | ACC : 8[/i][/b][/center]
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[quote][b]Abilities: [center][i][size=150][color=#ffffff]LOVELY CREATURE[/color][/size][/i][/center][/b]
[reducio]For as long as Henri could remember, people had always gushed about how his looks were divine or how one day, he would undoubtably grow up to break many hearts of both men and women. He had never failed to notice how his caretakers would whisper amongst themselves in the halls of the grandiose [i]Château de Bourbon[/i] about his ethereal traits. [i]'Sa beauté est ravissant, même à son jeune âge,'[/i] they would say. [i]'C'est de la famille, sûrement. Il l'a hérité de sa mère.'(*)[/i]

When Henri had been old enough to understand what they mean, he'd spent a full hour staring at the mirror in his quarters and had acknowledge their words had all been true. He had been only eight then, but he could see how his ashy blond locks would shimmer like golden threads and how his grey eyes shone like jewelry in the light. Although he did not possess Veela blood, one could almost mistake him to be one at first glance. Deep down, Henri did not rejoice at this fact for all of these attractive features belonged to a mother who did not love him. Juliette Marie de Bourbon had given her son everything but maternal affection, as she should have. But all would be fine, Henri had thought darkly to himself in the sanctuary of his bedroom. Because beauty was a powerful weapon, and the young Bourbon Heir would harness it to perfection and use it to his advantage in the future.

True to his conviction, the blond-haired little boy had begun taking care of his appearance more and observe other beautiful individuals to improve what was necessary. For someone so young, nobody had suspected he'd been more mature in his mind then he'd seemed. Henri would meticulously style his hair in the mornings, carefully pick out clothes that would compliment his complexion the most, spend a reasonably amount of time under the sun as to not appear sickly pale, and respect a religious diet that would allow him to maintain a healthy and pleasing form from body to skin. The boy had learnt to smile more, even if they'd been as fake as the positive and disarming emotions he'd force onto his face to charm other people.

This had continued on until he'd turned 11, and Henri had found all of his effort hadn't gone to waste. It was the day when he'd be escorted to [i]L'Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons[/i], and as soon as he'd stepped foot in Cannes and witnessed many heads turning around twice to get a better look at him as he'd passed by. Some of the girls had even been blatantly staring, and blushed bright red when he'd innocently flashed them a practiced dazzling smile full of perfectly white teeth. As the Bourbon Heir bid one of his caretakers goodbye and climbed on the Abraxan carriage, Henri's smile had morphed into something more gleefully malignant--momentarily twisting his beautiful features. Perhaps, if there was one single thing he would be grateful to his useless [i]Mère[/i] for, it was giving him the most dangerous weapon of all.
[quote][b][i][right]WC: 515[/right][/b](*)[revelio][i]His beauty is delightful, even at his young age. It certainly runs in the family. He inherited it from his mother.[/i][/revelio][/i][/quote][/reducio][/quote][/quote]