Blaize Theodore Jacobs

[blaize]

Finished? Yes, and rejiggered. XD


O N _ Y O U

Name/Alias: Kit
Gender: Feeeemale
Experience: Plenty!
Location: London

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C H A R A C T E R _P R O F I L E

b a s i c s

Full Name: Blaize Theodore Jacobs
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: January 14th, 1983
Tainted? Yessum
Ability: Nyctokinesis; the ability to create, manipulate, harness and control darkness and shadow.
Beliefs: Blaize has the mind of a scientist rather than a spiritualist, and firmly believes that what has happened to him and his sister is completely genetic… somehow. Usually though, he’s not bothered, and really doesn’t care for people forcing their beliefs when in his company. His ability is his, and what he does with it is his own business.



a p p e a r a n c e

Eyes: Blaize’s eyes are without a doubt his most eye-catching feature. They’re a rich, jade green that verge on the paler side of hazel when he’s ticked. Where he got them is anyone’s guess, because his sister and father both have the darkest of brown imaginable, and his mother’s is closer to amber than anything. He doesn’t mind being different though, because it means more heads turn in his direction.
Hair: Thick, long and misleadingly messy. Another difference between him and the rest of his family came about when Blaize was in his early teens and his hair, once as dark as Suzie’s, began to lighten in the Mediterranean sun. It now drifts between mid-brown and light depending on the season, verging on something resembling rich caramel or as his sister points out now and then, ‘vanilla fudge flop!’.
Height: 6’2”
Weight: He doesn’t check, but he’s damn near average.
Distinguishing Features: Apart from his eyes, there’s nothing distinguishable about Blaize. Physically anyway…
Other:
Blaize has, proudly, the build of an athlete. He has always lived for football rather than most other sports, and while there is little else in the world of activeness that appeals to him other than the beautiful game, he doesn’t obsess over it. It’s probably his fine balance of keeping fit and being lazy that has his physique as it is.
To top it all off, he’s allergic to colour. Or so he claims. Blacks, whites, greys and extremely muted or dark colours are all he owns, in clothing and in possessions for the most part.



p e r s o n a l i t y

Likes:
+ Football (soccer) and basketball too
+ Women
+ Technology and gizmos
+ Knowing that there are sides to him that not everybody sees
+ The beach, and Marseille in general
+ Music
+ Drawing/sketching
+ Calling Suzie ‘Suzie’ xD
+ His dog, Stella
+ Being outside
Dislikes:
+ Silence
+ Being alone
+ Suzie’s whiny voice
+ Being told what to do
+ Doing what he’s told to do…
+ Having to help out at home when trade is high
+ Rain
+ Letting people down
The Good Points:
Despite the Cheeky smile that seems to light his face more often than not, Blaize couldn’t be a more compassionate person if he tried. He is eternally loving and would bend over backwards to help friends or family (though he might try to hide it). He’s a good friend, a hard worker (if he think’s its deserving of his time) and never breaks a promise. He also hates the idea of letting people down, which has made him quite a loyal ally in some moral, and not so moral situations.
The Bad Points:
He has a vicious temper and snaps at people quite easily, but he’s usually more than willing to apologise afterwards. Unless he was right, of course.
Habits:
One of his worst habits is flirting when he doesn’t mean to. Growing up being told you’re ‘such a good looking young man’ has given him a slight bit of an ego, and while its not obnoxiously obvious, it’s definitely there. He also tends to not wear enough clothes in the privacy of his own home, he leaves the toilet seat up, watches TV in the dark... there's a few.
Possessions/Obsessions/Other:
Blaize has always played football, from the time that he could hold his leg up long enough to kick one. He played on the school team right up until he graduated and does still, even now, when he gets a moment to himself and his friends. It was even the way he managed to drag Suzie out of her shell too, by getting her hooked on the game as best he could.
One of his more hidden talents is that he’s a pretty good artist. He’s not so good with paints or chalks – what he calls the ‘girly mediums’ – but he has an extensive collection of pencils in a pot on his desk. He hides this talent from most of his sporting friends, his reason being that at least one of them was bound to wind him up about it, and he didn’t want to take chances on which one it would be. Its not a huge secret; he just doesn’t draw in public, and he doesn’t show off his sketches either. It’s a hobby that keeps his mind and his hands busy. What more do you need?



o r i g i n s

Place of Birth: Marseille, France
Family:
Mother, Rose (47)
Father, Olivier (48)
Sister, Suzie ‘Dodge’(16)
History:
The first Jacobs to arrive in San was Dodge’s great-great-great-great-grandfather some two hundred years ago. He came here on a whim, or so they were led to believe. He was a wealthy man back in Belgium, and had enough in his savings to buy the rundown barn house a little ways out of the village. In his first week there he met his love in a whirlwind story that Dodge can’t remember, and thus started the Jacobs’ inhabitation of Sanglignѐe.

He wasn’t the first Jacobs to be what they now call ‘tainted’, but he was the last. Until the wife of his great-great-great-grandson gave birth long after he had passed. His home, the huge barn conversion, was left to his wife and children, and has since then been passed from son to son, each one loyally keeping the place alive.

Olivier Jacobs, Blaize’s father, was the only son born in the sixth generation, and when his father passed he took on the B&B as if it was his born duty. His wife gave birth to two children, the first being a boy and the heir to the Inn, a few years after they were married. They had no idea they had rekindled the flame of the Tainted in their long, dormant line.

Blaize grew up with the other children of the village. People praised his and his sister’s manners and good behaviour everywhere they went, and they earned quite a bit from old men and women slipping them a bit of extra pocket money, a warm smile or a knowing wink. The fact that they looked slightly alike despite their age difference helped too; matching smiles, the neighbours said.

He went to school and excelled in almost every subject, until Blaize got bored with homework and study. By the age of twelve he was more interested in football, TV and music to be bothered with his academics, and it was sure to bite him in the ass when it came to the crunch. His parents yelled a lot, demanding that he be more responsible, but he ignored him. His point of view was that unless you could enjoy your hours awake there wasn’t much point in life at all. Dramatic words for a boy so young… but he had heard them on a movie he watched and liked the reactions it received.

As he got older their parents started to relax a little, trusting that their kids would take care of each other as much as they could. They let them stay out later once they each reached the age of twelve, and they were even allowed to get their first pets. Blaize got a bulking Golden Retriever whom he named Stella, after Stella McCartney and the scarf of hers that she chewed up as a pup.

Years passed. People came and went from the B&B and he helped out as much as Suzie did (once she was old enough to). When he was sixteen he met a girl, Victoria Markham, and it wasn’t long before he fell deeply in love with her. They spent every minute they could together. She was his first everything, and as far as he knew, he was hers. When he was eighteen he discovered he wasn’t. She had cheated on him, and while it tore at him to know that she wasn’t what he had made her out to be, he stuck by her. Not long after that she announced to him that she was pregnant.

He was gutted. He had little choice. He would stay by her, support her all he could despite the fact that he wasn’t sure the baby was his. He worked as hard as he could to support her, and she was happy; that’s what mattered. But it didn’t take long for her to change her mind. In one argument that still made him feel numb she told him she was leaving, going to the one she had cheated with, and she was getting rid of the baby. Hours later she vanished from his life for good. She’d used him.

She had hurt him deeply, wounded his trust in women to that even to this day he fears and rejects commitment or any kind. He’s had flings, lasting from one night to a couple of weeks, but never anything serious. He refuses to let a girl get that close to him again.

He currently shares a house with some of his friends, and the nature of the place means that Stella had to stay back at the Inn. He still helps out there when he can, and even spends a night there once in a while too. It’s still “home” to him. But he had to get out of the place so lacking in privacy when he turned 18. Dodge spends as much time with him as he does with her, and he gave her her own key not long after he moved in too, so they’re still as close as ever, if not more so with the knowledge that he’s not always around to watch over his little sister.



m i s c

RP Sample:
Brody hated hospitals. Muggle ones, wizarding ones, even the Hospital Wing he was now standing in made him uneasy. It wasn’t fear of the unknown, but an unease that came with the memories. Dropping himself into an uncomfortably hard chair next to Aelwyn’s bed, Brody dropped his head into his hands so that the only knowledge of the outside world he had was the sound that permeated his ear drums.

Ten minutes ago he was sitting in the Great Hall, helping himself to a lunch of hot soup and toast, waiting for Ten, who had been kept late to weasel her way out of another detention. He told her he’d meet her in the Hall and save her some of the coveted soup. True to his word, he was ladling a second bowl when a high pitched noise et his ears which he eventually deciphered as his name coming from the lungs of a young Marge van der Woodsen. He knew her only as one of Wyn’s good friends, and so when she came charging up the table at him like a half-mad gibbon it made him more than a bit wary. He had to tell her to slow down so he could hear what she was saying.

Needless to say, “Your sister’s in the hospital wing” was the last thing he wanted or needed to hear, but his fast run had him up to the Wing long before the second year messenger. He had found his sister looking incredibly guilty at first, sending glare after glare at the top of Madam Pomfrey’s head as the young nurse bandaged her arm. By the time she finished, Wyn’s glares had turned on Brody and had become almost pleading. Huge blue eyes stared into his own before he had the chance to collapse into the chair.

From there, now, he could hear the door open and a clatter of feet on the clinically clean floor coming towards them. Rody looked up to find a bedraggled looking Marge settling down in a chair a distance away, and he turned his slightly unfocused gaze on his sister again. He caught sight of the glare she sent to her friend and it raised its own suspicions, but for now he ignored it.

“Mum’s going to kill you,” he muttered, low tones echoing off the shining surfaces that surrounded them in the dull silence. It wanted her attention, and waited for the baby-faced girl to turn to look him straight on, but by the time she did he had given up and had dropped his head onto the edge of the bed instead.

“Dad’s going to kill me,” he concluded.

They both knew it. When word got back home, which it undoubtedly would, their mother would hit the roof because one of her babies got injured, again, while Glynn… well, Glynn had always deemed it Brody’s responsibility to look after his sisters, especially Aelwyn when they were in school. When he found out that Brody had ‘let’ his little sister break her arm so badly and not do anything about it, well, Brody was going to hear Glynn’s reaction next time they went home. It wound him up no end that despite the fact that he, Kynan and Baeddan were all closing fast to their father’s height of 6’4, none of them met his build, and if he caught Brody alone and endeavoured that fairness wasn’t required, Brody was no match for the burly man.

He could almost feel the man’s wrath already, which only had Brody’s temper starting to boil. Clearing his throat, he sat up suddenly, any trace of fear invisible as he met his sister’s innocent gaze with a slight smile. He regretted even mentioning their parent’s in this at all. Poor Wyn was going to have enough trouble explaining her way out of it with her year head a lot sooner than Christmas break.

“What really happened?” he asked, a glance towards Marge unavoidable as the dark girl glared daggers into his wounded sister before he looked back at her. “What did Pomfrey say?”


Character Model:Taylor Kitsch

[Nona Constantine]

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