Grigory Gonchar: Beast Handler, DRCMC Tags: Grigory Gonchar Ksenia Gonchar Read 709 times / 0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic. Grigory Gonchar: Beast Handler, DRCMC on January 18, 2016, 04:14:19 PM BIOGRAPHY Approved! - KitGRIGORY “G” Borisovitch GONCHARApril 30, 1985. Chelyabinsk, Russia. Halfblood. Koldovstoretz.BEAST HANDLER, BEAST DIVISION [ 10 3/4”, larch, dragon heartstring. A loud, boisterous wand. The wood is a variety native to Russia. ]Physical DescriptionTall, with broad, hulking shoulders, long arms and wiry legs, from afar Grigory cuts a brutish figure, and up close isn’t much better; he doesn’t just have a face, he has a mug. A punching face. A headbutting face. In a pinch, a convenient cudgel. His nose in particular is big and bumpy—often red, a state only exacerbated by habitual rubbing. Though his mouth might seem small at first, puffy jowls and a generous bottom lip pad a heavy grin. At best he looks like he woke up with a bad cold.That said, the man isn’t completely without his charms. If his eyes look sleepy, they are at least warm and kind, and tear up easily at things like newborn babies and tender reunions. His smiles may be crooked, but only deepen with sincerity. The slouch is as much of a courtesy as it comes from an easygoing manner; that looming stature is certainly much less intimidating when it is huddled beneath three sheets and a duvet, shivering from the cold.More than that, those large, callused hands are gentle, used to handling tiny fragile bodies as they are at wrangling larger ones. A thick finger can trace a path down knobby spines, light as a feather. Friends and colleagues are more likely to remember them for those pats on the head, ass or shoulder, or as a precursor to drunken cuddles and giant bear hugs. In those hands, a lover is never found wanting.Clothing-wise Grigory likes to keep those brown curls short and dress comfortably but colorfully. During warmer seasons, plaid shirts, flashy sneakers and graphic tees make up his usual wardrobe; in colder times he wears seasonably garish hats, gloves and scarves. His boots are often muddy from work, from which he emerges smelling of sweat, musk, and occasionally manure.He bears a long, ugly looking scar on his left knee.PersonalityGrigory is a big softie. He loves animals and babies. Puppies, kittens, human or whale sharks, it doesn’t matter; he will coo over them with the utmost sincerity and jump on the chance to spend time with them. Few things affect him as deeply as a new life. He is easily manipulated by the cute and innocent—a qualification that some, even other beast handlers, may find quite different from their own. The proud papa of two dogs (a four-year-old Russian bear hound and a part-simargl pitbull puppy), he likes to tell people that he’s a single dad before whipping out the pictures. Somewhere in Siberia there is a chimera named after his sister.He also enjoys romcoms—legitimately, genuinely likes them. He finds it very easy to get swept up in the plot, just like the protagonist, and cries when they don’t get a happy ending. For the same reasons he avoids soaps, because he still gets invested and then everything upsets him.An irrepressible flirt, Grigory doesn’t let his stilted English hold him back. Expressive enough without words, his pick up lines tend to be simple, fairly direct, but are softened by puppydog looks and cocky (even downright vulgar) grins, tongue playfully catching between his teeth. And he is very fond of teasing; what little English he knows appears to diminish the more he wants someone to go away. Sometimes he pretends not to see or hear them, and then blames it on them for being “so short”—even when they are almost as tall as he is. Sometimes he blames it on their English. Though the language barrier still remains a source of frustration, he has since learned how to amuse himself with it, too. Whether you find him amusing usually depends on which side of it you are on, and since moving to London most people just find him frustrating.If he really doesn’t like what he is hearing, he will not only stop speaking English, he will stop paying attention altogether. He is particularly fond of dozing off, even if he’s still standing, and may snore as loudly as possible.He has also been accused of being single-minded, and for good reason: he’s a hard worker, but lacks ambition beyond what he really wants. This focus has fed both a strong work ethic and a fierce competitive streak, but for the most part he is content to live in the moment and let the future happen on its own. However, he still falls into a terrible sulk when disappointed, and should be left alone until he cools off; he can be an absolute beast when confronted or cornered in any way.Similar can be said of mornings. He is not, never has been and never will be, a morning person.At heart, Grigory is deeply patriotic. Love for one’s country isn’t easily forgotten, and even now, miles and miles away, he still proudly compares it to others. Beer? Psh. Winter? Ha! Mother Russia best. (Though if you ask him about women, he will swear up and down his respect for Mrs. L, for whom he holds in as high regard as he does his own mama.)Only closer to his heart are his family. A dutiful son and supportive older brother, Grigory has been a great help to his family over the years, and though some might pity him for what might seem like a lacking childhood, he neither needs nor want it. He is proud of what he has done for them.HistoryGrigory’s childhood was not an easy one. Though the Gonchars were better off than their muggle neighbors, money was still an issue; Boris, an underpaid clerk, and Ekaterina, a seamstress, had to change jobs all the time just to get by. When Vasily was born, Grigory took care of him while they were working. Political turmoil – the dissolution of the USSR, the constant wars and brutal regimes – did not make things any easier.Three years later, Ksenia arrived. By then, Grigory was showing great promise at eistod, or ice quidditch. He took to skating at an early age, but it wasn’t until he began playing that he really started to shine. By his fourth year at Koldovstoretz, Grigory was on a scholarship, which helped out the family greatly. Everyone was so sure of his success; a scout had already come to meet him. He would be great.2002 – 2006Then, tragedy struck. One particularly violent away game, Grigory sustained a terrible knee injury and by accident – or perhaps design – something had gone wrong in its healing. Unaware of the extent of the damage, he went back out onto the ice… and down in a second collision.This time no one missed a thing. He was out for the rest of the game. His team won without him, but behind the boards, reality had become grim: he could still skate, but not play. Not professionally.If asked, Grigory would not be able to recount how the rest of the day had gone, or even the rest of the year. Out of pity he was allowed to keep his scholarship, but without quidditch there was a hole in his chest he didn’t know what to do with. What should have been his greatest year had become a whirlwind of healers, well-wishers and pitying looks. Exams passed by quietly and without complaint, for there was no one to complain to; being around people, even friends, had become unbearable.But what he does remember are the magical creatures at Koldovstoretz. Without quidditch, he found himself with a stifling abundance of free time, and he had always loved animals—had always been good with them. Whether it was the stray dog that lived down the street, or the school horses, or even the mischievous skrzak living the woods, Grigory had always been comfortable among them in a way he had never been with other people.So after graduation, when he was offered a chance to work at a prominent sanctuary in Siberia, he took it. A year later, he was offered a full-time job. The hours were long but not unreasonable, and promised to pay well. The stability it offered provided relief for his family as well, taking another weight off his shoulders. For the first time in months, it seemed he could be—if not happy, then at least content.2006 – PresentBut despite his efforts Grigory grew restless. Now that quidditch was off the table, he had begun to take a bigger interest in the rest of the world, where a vast array of magical creatures he could only read about could be found. He still loved Russia, but it had too many bad memories for him now—was where his dreams were literally crushed beneath the weight of a teammate he should have been able to trust—and so a few days shy of his twenty-first birthday, Grigory found himself in London, working on Level Four of the British Ministry of Magic.Still, the language barrier was a problem. He knew just enough to be able to work with his new colleagues, but small talk was painful and jokes were even harder to understand. Frustrated with himself as he was with other people, Grigory spoke less and less, until only when he was spoken to. Lonely and homesick, he began to question if he had made the right choice.During one break spent wandering around the Ministry, Grigory got lost. Surrounded by smartly dressed people who seemed busy even as they idled, he tried to find the lifts on his own. But after passing by the same water fountain more than a few times, he approached the least intimidating looking witch he saw.Her expression wasn’t the most promising, but it changed when she saw how bad his English was and, much to his relief, switched to Russian. They chatted some as she led him to the lifts; her name was Irina Manning, she had just graduated Hogwarts and she was studying at the Ministry to become a lawyer. Feeling more cheerful than he had in weeks, Grigory loudly promised that they would see each other again.Irina, as it would turn out, would be integral to London truly becoming home for him than either of them realized. He had other friends in London, but of them all, Irina became the most constant. Grigory made an effort to see her whenever they could; given the rigid nature of her schedule and the unpredictability of his, he went out of his way to accommodate her. This often meant dragging her out for lunch, or bringing it to her. In turn, she helped him improve his English and began inviting him out with her own friends. At her suggestion, he got a pet—a puppy, the first of two. Eventually they moved in together. It wasn’t exactly like home, but… maybe it didn’t have to be.At present, he lives with best friend Irina and his two dogs, Perun and Lelya, at the House of Atreus. With one more year to go, he has yet to obtain full citizenship, and though he still travels overseas for work, it isn’t for long or that often—which works for him just fine. There is plenty of work to be found on the island.Job DescriptionAs a member of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, it is Grigory’s job to retrieve, relocate, and dispose of target creatures in whatever way is deemed fit. The latter may break his heart, but for safety of others (–and hopefully others like it), he will do his job to the best of his ability. Otherwise he is sent out to handle beasts under less urgent circumstances for groups or individuals.Despite his poor English, Grigory is fairly easy to get along with. He is competent and focused, but also patient, cooperative and friendly, with enough quirks to offset a possibly alarming appearance. As a result, he is often put in charge of training the rookies and can be found around the kennels, a few of them trailing behind him.Sometimes he will carry his work with him—a snake up his sleeve, or a couple of knarls in his pockets (though if you ask him about it, he will lie to your face, or mysteriously lose the ability to speak English altogether).QualificationsPrior to his transfer, four (4) years at Altai “Golden Mountain” Sanctuary and Reserve and a few months spent at sanctuaries elsewhere in between. He has spent the last four with the British Ministry.Strong, agile, and armed with good reflexes, Grigory has the physical ability to handle just about any creature thrown his way, but ultimately it is his astonishing ability to read and understand their moods and intent that makes him so capable a handler. He loves animals, but he knows them, too—has survived bursts of aggression as well as fear—and has since learned to be prepared.Writing Sample “It moved, Gonchar. I just saw it!” “Is nothing. Just tumor. болен.” Grigory coughed helpfully. Jarred by the movement, a tiny head poked out of his collar, mewling plaintively. Both men looked down. They looked back at each other. “Kitty tumor,” Grigory amended, gently petting it with a finger.SummaryPotato face, bad English, Team Russia 4 Lyfe. A gentle, sensitive guy at heart, Grigory is especially fond of cute things, such as babies and dangerous beasts, and so became a Beast Handler after a career-ending injury put an end to professional dreams. Among friends, family and strangers alike, he is best known for his cheeky sense of humor, poor English, brutish manners and emotional, affectionate ways. Skip to next post
Grigory Gonchar: Beast Handler, DRCMC on January 18, 2016, 04:14:19 PM BIOGRAPHY Approved! - KitGRIGORY “G” Borisovitch GONCHARApril 30, 1985. Chelyabinsk, Russia. Halfblood. Koldovstoretz.BEAST HANDLER, BEAST DIVISION [ 10 3/4”, larch, dragon heartstring. A loud, boisterous wand. The wood is a variety native to Russia. ]Physical DescriptionTall, with broad, hulking shoulders, long arms and wiry legs, from afar Grigory cuts a brutish figure, and up close isn’t much better; he doesn’t just have a face, he has a mug. A punching face. A headbutting face. In a pinch, a convenient cudgel. His nose in particular is big and bumpy—often red, a state only exacerbated by habitual rubbing. Though his mouth might seem small at first, puffy jowls and a generous bottom lip pad a heavy grin. At best he looks like he woke up with a bad cold.That said, the man isn’t completely without his charms. If his eyes look sleepy, they are at least warm and kind, and tear up easily at things like newborn babies and tender reunions. His smiles may be crooked, but only deepen with sincerity. The slouch is as much of a courtesy as it comes from an easygoing manner; that looming stature is certainly much less intimidating when it is huddled beneath three sheets and a duvet, shivering from the cold.More than that, those large, callused hands are gentle, used to handling tiny fragile bodies as they are at wrangling larger ones. A thick finger can trace a path down knobby spines, light as a feather. Friends and colleagues are more likely to remember them for those pats on the head, ass or shoulder, or as a precursor to drunken cuddles and giant bear hugs. In those hands, a lover is never found wanting.Clothing-wise Grigory likes to keep those brown curls short and dress comfortably but colorfully. During warmer seasons, plaid shirts, flashy sneakers and graphic tees make up his usual wardrobe; in colder times he wears seasonably garish hats, gloves and scarves. His boots are often muddy from work, from which he emerges smelling of sweat, musk, and occasionally manure.He bears a long, ugly looking scar on his left knee.PersonalityGrigory is a big softie. He loves animals and babies. Puppies, kittens, human or whale sharks, it doesn’t matter; he will coo over them with the utmost sincerity and jump on the chance to spend time with them. Few things affect him as deeply as a new life. He is easily manipulated by the cute and innocent—a qualification that some, even other beast handlers, may find quite different from their own. The proud papa of two dogs (a four-year-old Russian bear hound and a part-simargl pitbull puppy), he likes to tell people that he’s a single dad before whipping out the pictures. Somewhere in Siberia there is a chimera named after his sister.He also enjoys romcoms—legitimately, genuinely likes them. He finds it very easy to get swept up in the plot, just like the protagonist, and cries when they don’t get a happy ending. For the same reasons he avoids soaps, because he still gets invested and then everything upsets him.An irrepressible flirt, Grigory doesn’t let his stilted English hold him back. Expressive enough without words, his pick up lines tend to be simple, fairly direct, but are softened by puppydog looks and cocky (even downright vulgar) grins, tongue playfully catching between his teeth. And he is very fond of teasing; what little English he knows appears to diminish the more he wants someone to go away. Sometimes he pretends not to see or hear them, and then blames it on them for being “so short”—even when they are almost as tall as he is. Sometimes he blames it on their English. Though the language barrier still remains a source of frustration, he has since learned how to amuse himself with it, too. Whether you find him amusing usually depends on which side of it you are on, and since moving to London most people just find him frustrating.If he really doesn’t like what he is hearing, he will not only stop speaking English, he will stop paying attention altogether. He is particularly fond of dozing off, even if he’s still standing, and may snore as loudly as possible.He has also been accused of being single-minded, and for good reason: he’s a hard worker, but lacks ambition beyond what he really wants. This focus has fed both a strong work ethic and a fierce competitive streak, but for the most part he is content to live in the moment and let the future happen on its own. However, he still falls into a terrible sulk when disappointed, and should be left alone until he cools off; he can be an absolute beast when confronted or cornered in any way.Similar can be said of mornings. He is not, never has been and never will be, a morning person.At heart, Grigory is deeply patriotic. Love for one’s country isn’t easily forgotten, and even now, miles and miles away, he still proudly compares it to others. Beer? Psh. Winter? Ha! Mother Russia best. (Though if you ask him about women, he will swear up and down his respect for Mrs. L, for whom he holds in as high regard as he does his own mama.)Only closer to his heart are his family. A dutiful son and supportive older brother, Grigory has been a great help to his family over the years, and though some might pity him for what might seem like a lacking childhood, he neither needs nor want it. He is proud of what he has done for them.HistoryGrigory’s childhood was not an easy one. Though the Gonchars were better off than their muggle neighbors, money was still an issue; Boris, an underpaid clerk, and Ekaterina, a seamstress, had to change jobs all the time just to get by. When Vasily was born, Grigory took care of him while they were working. Political turmoil – the dissolution of the USSR, the constant wars and brutal regimes – did not make things any easier.Three years later, Ksenia arrived. By then, Grigory was showing great promise at eistod, or ice quidditch. He took to skating at an early age, but it wasn’t until he began playing that he really started to shine. By his fourth year at Koldovstoretz, Grigory was on a scholarship, which helped out the family greatly. Everyone was so sure of his success; a scout had already come to meet him. He would be great.2002 – 2006Then, tragedy struck. One particularly violent away game, Grigory sustained a terrible knee injury and by accident – or perhaps design – something had gone wrong in its healing. Unaware of the extent of the damage, he went back out onto the ice… and down in a second collision.This time no one missed a thing. He was out for the rest of the game. His team won without him, but behind the boards, reality had become grim: he could still skate, but not play. Not professionally.If asked, Grigory would not be able to recount how the rest of the day had gone, or even the rest of the year. Out of pity he was allowed to keep his scholarship, but without quidditch there was a hole in his chest he didn’t know what to do with. What should have been his greatest year had become a whirlwind of healers, well-wishers and pitying looks. Exams passed by quietly and without complaint, for there was no one to complain to; being around people, even friends, had become unbearable.But what he does remember are the magical creatures at Koldovstoretz. Without quidditch, he found himself with a stifling abundance of free time, and he had always loved animals—had always been good with them. Whether it was the stray dog that lived down the street, or the school horses, or even the mischievous skrzak living the woods, Grigory had always been comfortable among them in a way he had never been with other people.So after graduation, when he was offered a chance to work at a prominent sanctuary in Siberia, he took it. A year later, he was offered a full-time job. The hours were long but not unreasonable, and promised to pay well. The stability it offered provided relief for his family as well, taking another weight off his shoulders. For the first time in months, it seemed he could be—if not happy, then at least content.2006 – PresentBut despite his efforts Grigory grew restless. Now that quidditch was off the table, he had begun to take a bigger interest in the rest of the world, where a vast array of magical creatures he could only read about could be found. He still loved Russia, but it had too many bad memories for him now—was where his dreams were literally crushed beneath the weight of a teammate he should have been able to trust—and so a few days shy of his twenty-first birthday, Grigory found himself in London, working on Level Four of the British Ministry of Magic.Still, the language barrier was a problem. He knew just enough to be able to work with his new colleagues, but small talk was painful and jokes were even harder to understand. Frustrated with himself as he was with other people, Grigory spoke less and less, until only when he was spoken to. Lonely and homesick, he began to question if he had made the right choice.During one break spent wandering around the Ministry, Grigory got lost. Surrounded by smartly dressed people who seemed busy even as they idled, he tried to find the lifts on his own. But after passing by the same water fountain more than a few times, he approached the least intimidating looking witch he saw.Her expression wasn’t the most promising, but it changed when she saw how bad his English was and, much to his relief, switched to Russian. They chatted some as she led him to the lifts; her name was Irina Manning, she had just graduated Hogwarts and she was studying at the Ministry to become a lawyer. Feeling more cheerful than he had in weeks, Grigory loudly promised that they would see each other again.Irina, as it would turn out, would be integral to London truly becoming home for him than either of them realized. He had other friends in London, but of them all, Irina became the most constant. Grigory made an effort to see her whenever they could; given the rigid nature of her schedule and the unpredictability of his, he went out of his way to accommodate her. This often meant dragging her out for lunch, or bringing it to her. In turn, she helped him improve his English and began inviting him out with her own friends. At her suggestion, he got a pet—a puppy, the first of two. Eventually they moved in together. It wasn’t exactly like home, but… maybe it didn’t have to be.At present, he lives with best friend Irina and his two dogs, Perun and Lelya, at the House of Atreus. With one more year to go, he has yet to obtain full citizenship, and though he still travels overseas for work, it isn’t for long or that often—which works for him just fine. There is plenty of work to be found on the island.Job DescriptionAs a member of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, it is Grigory’s job to retrieve, relocate, and dispose of target creatures in whatever way is deemed fit. The latter may break his heart, but for safety of others (–and hopefully others like it), he will do his job to the best of his ability. Otherwise he is sent out to handle beasts under less urgent circumstances for groups or individuals.Despite his poor English, Grigory is fairly easy to get along with. He is competent and focused, but also patient, cooperative and friendly, with enough quirks to offset a possibly alarming appearance. As a result, he is often put in charge of training the rookies and can be found around the kennels, a few of them trailing behind him.Sometimes he will carry his work with him—a snake up his sleeve, or a couple of knarls in his pockets (though if you ask him about it, he will lie to your face, or mysteriously lose the ability to speak English altogether).QualificationsPrior to his transfer, four (4) years at Altai “Golden Mountain” Sanctuary and Reserve and a few months spent at sanctuaries elsewhere in between. He has spent the last four with the British Ministry.Strong, agile, and armed with good reflexes, Grigory has the physical ability to handle just about any creature thrown his way, but ultimately it is his astonishing ability to read and understand their moods and intent that makes him so capable a handler. He loves animals, but he knows them, too—has survived bursts of aggression as well as fear—and has since learned to be prepared.Writing Sample “It moved, Gonchar. I just saw it!” “Is nothing. Just tumor. болен.” Grigory coughed helpfully. Jarred by the movement, a tiny head poked out of his collar, mewling plaintively. Both men looked down. They looked back at each other. “Kitty tumor,” Grigory amended, gently petting it with a finger.SummaryPotato face, bad English, Team Russia 4 Lyfe. A gentle, sensitive guy at heart, Grigory is especially fond of cute things, such as babies and dangerous beasts, and so became a Beast Handler after a career-ending injury put an end to professional dreams. Among friends, family and strangers alike, he is best known for his cheeky sense of humor, poor English, brutish manners and emotional, affectionate ways. Skip to next post
Grigory Gonchar: Beast Handler, DRCMC