Post by blake on Feb 7, 2011 1:39:09 GMT -6
::Blake Hatcliff::
Type: Original
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Crushes: Crushes are fleeting, never lingering~
Face Claim:Hazama, BlazBlue
Appearance:
The first thing that must be mentioned is the hat. It is a beautiful hat. Made of black felt and rimmed by an even blacker ribbon, it is stunning in its simplicity. It is not a five-hundred dollar monster, nor even custom-tailored, but just a run of the mill one, the kind found in clothing stores. Yet, many things have been said of the hat. It is an eldritch trinket granted to him by the Devil in exchange for Blake's eternal soul. Or it was forged by the Hat God to act as the modern day Excalibur. Or something silly like that. In truth, it's just a hat. Nobody can deny though, that it would look dead sexy on everything – not that they'd know. It never leaves Blake's head. Ever.
Tall and wiry. Those are two words that best describe the physical man. Standing at six feet but 134 pounds, Blake is deceptively light, mostly lean muscle, honestly. He has hazel eyes, though he mostly keeps them half-closed, giving others the impression that he is perpetually tired. His hair is dyed green, although, again, not that many see it, due to the fact that the hat never comes off. It is sort of his shame, being, in his opinion, limp and loose. He tried hair gel once – never again.
Blake honestly does not mind wearing many sort of clothes, but is mostly at home in dark and sharp suits, without brands nor labels nor tags. Could almost say that it's sort of a fetish for him, actually. The only dresswear that he cannot tolerate is the uniform. But uniforms are uniforms, so he has to compromise. He's swapped the tie out for a shorter, purely black (never mind that you only wear black ties to FUNERALS in Japan) half-length tie. But whatever he wears, the hat stays.
If you were to watch his movements, you would notice a practiced laziness about it. Most of his motions are slow and relaxed, languorous, like a cat. Or something. [Insert obligatory Hat reference here]
Personality:
The first thing to know about Blake is that he's woefully lazy. He hardly takes anything seriously – not work, not studies, not people, and so on and so forth. It is just the way he is wired. However, he has practically refined this into an art form, giving the impression of a casual nonchalance towards everything. But really – capricious defines him pretty well. This does land him in trouble, though, when he takes said caprices too far, offending the wrong people for the wrong reasons.
His laziness is an ingrained habit, largely because he is also brilliant by nature. This was why he breezed through elementary and middle school with minimal effort, and why his parents did not mind him until his high school ages. Around the age of fifteen, his laziness began outstripping his natural talent. Either way, though, Blake is capable of learning whatever he wants to learn. The problem is that he's hardly willing to put in the effort. Because of this, he is a middling student, attaining C's and the rare B.
As said before, Blake is capricious. This is largely because he knows that his parents will inevitably disown him at some point (they haven't said anything, but he's not a buffoon). As far as he's concerned, it is a very worrisome prospect, but it's like a derailing train. It's basically inevitable. So, because of this, he basically thinks that he doesn't have a future – AT ALL – and subscribes to the principle that it is better to burn out than to fade away.
Due to this, Blake is a man of many trades, but master of none. He flits from one profession or hobby to another, never lingering, all shifting with his moods. As a result, he knows and can do a variety of things, all with varying degrees of success. The only hobby he has honestly stuck with is knifeplay, from butter knives for toast and butterfly knives. Too bad that the school confiscated his butterfly knife, leaving him with nothing but butter knives. Still, he's quite dexterous as a result of said casual training.
This same attitude can be said of people. He doesn't feel like committing to anyone, nor saying much about himself. While this does not mean that he won't go out of his way to be a troll or a jerk, it does mean that he is not as sensitive or kind as he could be. He just feels like they're all temporal, so he might as well troll for all sorts of responses, just because he can. He is relatively people-savvy, though, capable of reading faces. It's partially why fishing for all sorts of responses is sort of a past-time of his: to check out the subtle differences between reactions. He is naturally curious like that. It is just a trait of his.
All of his savviness, however, avails him little in Japan. He has American values and American traditions on Japanese soil, so he often makes gaffes, cultural or social. He does not understand that purely black ties are only worn at funerals for example. He also speaks broken Japanese. He can understand the language, but not really speak it. (For the sake of your eyes and english language'y brains, I will not make a literal translation. Just assume it comes off as broken?)
History:
Blake is the only child and possible heir to the owners and founders of a prominent company working in cyber-security. He lived a relatively normal life, as normal as a HYPER-RICH boy could be, sheltered and tutored until he reached the age of six. Then, he was sent to a private school, so that he would learn to deal with other people, make contacts, and so on. A sound theory. However, it did not work in practice. As it turned out, young Blake was exceptionally skilled in the oh-so-difficult realms of multiplication and and baking-soda volcano science. He finished the work with minimal effort, basically earning the enmity of other would-be heirs and masters (and heiresses and mistresses, just to be gender-PC). His scarily yellow eyes didn't help, either. Basically ignored or bullied by his peers, Blake turned to other venues, such as media or whatever, even growing bored of the extracurricular activities his parents pushed him through, such as piano, fencing or whatever it is that rich people do.
As a result, the next 7 years or so were spent with Blake going through the motions as normal, easily acing basic algebra and maybe the occasional beginner science course. His parents largely ignored him, as he brought the A's. However, since then, the difficulty ramp spiked up, and his grades rapidly started dropping, as he was not quite prepared for the prospect of having to work for his grades. And his parents started to take note. They tried to reverse 7 years of habits, to little success. No amount of berating, reminding, tears, or otherwise worked. They told him that he had to compose himself as a gentleman, that he had to bring home the gradesso they could brag about it, all to be groomed as a perfectly smart heir. This obviously did not work, and only succeeded in driving a rift between him and his family. At some point, he decided to just hang out with people... but normal people, just to irritate his haughty parents.
In fact, it got bad enough that he was kicked out for the night one night. However, rather than scaring him straight, like expected, he chanced upon a group of people his age, who let him tag along and bum with them for the night.They probably just wanted him to pay for the fun and drinks of the night, but for him, it was still a wonderful time. Because he got his hat that night.He returned home the next day, though, because his mother was deeply scared that her son would get injured, and probably mugged and violated by an army of hobos or something.
Regardless, something changed a bit, that time. He started studying even less, checking out the world around him, actually. He started flitting around different clubs of all flavors, trying them out for its own sake, meeting with more people. Honest people, people who did not have to hide their faces behind affected displays, a surprising contrast to the sort of rich people that he was used to. Because of this, he has become relatively capable of catching little quirks in other people, miniscule actions that betray their feelings.
(Around this time, he did notice that his parents took on less duties at work, and, uh, started going to more hotels. Yeah.)
So it went. Then came his 18th birthday. His gift? Him spending his last year before the colleges overseas, in a new country, a new culture, a new school. No strings attached. For some reason, this school was referred to them by another friend, and so they wanted to try it out.
Blake knew better – he easily guessed that his parents were trying to get a new child, one to raise more stringently. He knew that they would just cut him off and disown him as soon as they could, if he did not change his ways over the year.
But quite frankly? Blake thinks that it is too late for him to do anything. He knows that he cannot change. He knows that his time is up. What does he plan on doing about it? He's eager to check out the new culture, to see how Japanese people act. He attends the school out of curiosity, mostly, and perhaps a chance to reinvent himself. It's not like he's going to make lasting friendships with them, right?Controller's Information
Nickname: Siggy
Age: 18.
Gender: Manly
Seen the Anime?: Not a bit. Haven't been turned gay yet.
How Did You Find Us?: Nak.
Sample RP: FNG. Actually a continuation on that sample post of Kaori's.Saber growled as the Assassin continued his mockery, unseen and unnoticed. He would gladly have fought the Rider1, loosed his2 blood upon Balmung... but not at any man's behest.3 But later. As the voice faded away, Rider merely stood his ground, steed at the ready, as if daring him to make the first move.
He gladly took that chance. Readying his weapon, Saber dashed forth, swinging the massive blade in a short and abrupt arc, parting the very air with the force of the blow. Rider, in some futile attempt at defense, drew his own sword, blocking the strike. Sheath met blade in a flurry of sparks. The difference, however, was that Saber had thrown his entire mass behind that single strike with enough bone-shattering force to send Rider crashing through several layers of walls, leaving behind crumbling, vaguely defined holes in his wake.
Saber strode forward, briefly admiring his work. However, before he took one step across the threshold, he felt a wavering sense of sorts, wailing, directing him to the side, accompanying an actual rumbling and grinding sound.
Saber turned around, seeing a blaring missile hurtling towards him.4 He quickly adjusted his position slightly, turning to the motorcycle. However, the riderless vehicle was already wavering, wobbling, uncontrolled. The momentum caused by the rider and her... Servant, it would seem, leaping off of the two-wheeled mount did not help. Finally, with a tortured screech, it fell over, now propelled solely by its own momentum, hampered by friction.
By the time it reached Saber, he brought a foot down on it, gently halting the would-be missile.5 "Hmh." With a sudden burst of force, he brought his boot down, bisecting and smashing the motorcycle.
Already dismissing Rider, Saber turned to the new challengers, smiling beneath his helmet. Though he betrayed nothing, inside, he was a roiling mass of glee. Three Servants here, at once? Amazing. He could make so much progress in this war in one night. What was this one? Lancer? Archer?
He hunched forward slightly, drawing a swift, screeching line across the ground with his blade, casually balancing the massive weapon against the ground.
"Come."
----
1Class uncertain.
2Gender also uncertain.
3Yeah, seriously. Nobody makes me his bitch. Nobody!
4...That little PUNK jacked Grani's theme. She dies.
5Haha~
