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Alistair Blackketter

Thorns are to be admired, not touched.

0 · 320 views · located in Moreton

a character in “The Blame Game”, originally authored by Armin Arlert, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. To me, I am the ugliest creature to exist. For that, I am proud."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€

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Full Name
Alistair Blackketter

Nicknames
Alis
Prince

Alias
King of Hearts, Online Alias

Age
Seventeen

Gender
Male

Sexuality
Bisexual, non romantic

School Year
Year Twelve

Occupation
Anonymous, freelancing online Voice Actor

Face Claim
Mutsuki from Kiss of Rose Princess

Theme
Glass House - Red




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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"I don't mind playing the bad guy."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€

Clique
The Gifted

Role
Leader
Talent is acting.




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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"My shining star, how brilliantly you dance."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
Eyes
Crimson Red.

Hair
Originally white, dyed black.

Complexion
Pale, smooth.

Body Build
Six foot two, lean and slightly muscular.

Distinct Markings
Brier and thorn tattoo on his neck. (Covered by uniform collar).

Piercings/accessories
None.

Clothing
Button down shirts and jeans with boots.

Uniform
Properly buttoned up and clean pressed.




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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"I will cast myself in sin if for nothing else but for the sake of my sister."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
Personality Traits

Obsessive + Lethargic + Deceptive + Patient + Kind

Rather inactive and always seeming to laze around, he seems like a most unproper person to lead the clique of gifted people, and by all means he is inclined to agree. However, he is indeed gifted in the means of acting and has a charming way about him that gathers many talents to his wings. With an appreciation for varied skill sets, he's normally easy to get along with on a base means. He's tolerant and kind to others, however he is not beyond lying and using deception to fulfill means.

He also has an obsessive nature, however it rarely shows as the only thing he is currently obsessed over is his own elder sister. However, it can reach near terrifying heights, as it is believed to possibly a family trait.




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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"Don't place the burden of your loss onto me."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
Likes
Acting - Something he has a natural talent for, enjoying it as long as he is not on a stage.
His Sister - He adores and is slightly obsessed with his elder sister.
Watching Sports - He enjoys watching sports in general, though isn't a die hard fan of any teams.
Classical Music - He has a liking to older music, finding beauty in the classics.
German - He has a small fascination with their society and language.

Dislikes
Fast Food - Greasy and poorly made, the idea of eating it makes his stomach curl.
Being Used - He doesn't not like to be toyed with.
Participating in Sports - He's not a very active young man, preferring not to put forth much effort.
Red - He simply does not like the color, detesting his own eyes.
Summer - Burning easily, he does not fare well in the heat.

Habits
Enunciation - He tends to speak unpeckably clear, never mumbling.
Posture - He was prime and prim posture, always with his back straight and hands folded neatly.
British Pinky - It's unknown how he picked the habit up, but he tends to extend his pinky in a noble fashion.




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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"The only woman I could ever love is my sister."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
Strengths
Deception - It's hard to see through his lies as he has a brilliant poker face.
Combative Instinct - He's not a physical or athletic person, though he has base fighting instincts and can at the very least dodge a few good hits.
Meticulous - He works everything to the finest detail.
Perfectionist - If he sets out to do something, it's going to be done right.

Flaws
Stage Fright - He has horrid stage fright, unable to speak in front of large groups.
Blood - The sight of blood makes him ill.
Endurance - Being albino, he's naturally weak and lacks a certain level of strength.
Prone to Sickness - Being naturally weak, he is prone to tiring out and becoming ill easy.

Hobbies
Speaking German - He enjoys the language and likes learning new German phrases.
Voice Acting - More of an online job, he often spends time at home behind a microphone.
Script Writing - Mostly for demo reels, he can often be found scribbling lines on the corners of his notes.




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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"Something tells me that if I remember it all, I won't be able to live with myself."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
Background
Alistair suffers from acute amnesia due to the brutality of witnessing his parents' death.

The past he no longer recalls...
He was a sickly child, often getting sick and requiring medicinal treatments. His financial burden proved too stressful for his parents. They considered giving him off to foster care, or something of the like. At this point, little Alistair was the meek age of eight and didn't understand what it all meant. He only understood that because of him, his parents were suffering. A mere eight year attempted to take his own life by hanging himself. His older sister, fifteen at the time, rescued him from the entwining ropes. However, she did not stop there. She had been absolutely enthralled in her little brother, doting on him endlessly. She had fallen in love with his red eyes. Upon learning that her brother was to be sent away, she brutally murdered her own parents in front of her brother.

Alistair knew and remembered nothing of this. The trauma of such a scene made him forget. As far as he knew, a stranger had killed his parents and attempted to kill him too. He got his brier and thorn tattoos in order to cover the rope scars. He also ended up dying his hair black. Something deep down told him he didn't want to remember, so he tried to hide everything he could of the incident. He doted on his lovely sister, his savior and only remaining family.

His sister moved on to be a big time actress, often away from home on business. Alistair practically lives on his own, doing everything at home himself. The burden of responsibility at a young age had made him methodical yet somewhat lazy and uneager to do things. He too got into acting, finding it a rather fun past time that took little effort on his part. By the time he was in high school, he was well known for his ability and inevitably became part of the gifted clique under it's old leader. He remained quiet on the sidelines, simply enjoying the company of many gifted people. As the old leader graduated, he was suddenly and to his great dismay turned into the leader himself. Reluctant, he still does his role justice and to perfection.
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So begins...

Alistair Blackketter's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tess O'Callaghan Character Portrait: Johnny Okimura Character Portrait: Phoenix Willow Character Portrait: Arabella Adeojo Character Portrait: Tanith Underwood Character Portrait: Alistair Blackketter Character Portrait: Miriam Radke Character Portrait: Isabella Properpilski* Character Portrait: Jack Smith
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MONDAY / 8AM
[[SCHOOL STARTS: 8:30AM]]

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T E S S__O ' C A L L A G H A N

It had been seven days since the funeral. Fourteen days since the incident. Another page ripped from the tear-away calendar indicated this.

Despite the fact that he lived on school property, Tess had neglected to attend classes for the duration of that entire fortnight period. The school weren't as persistent as they should've been, with his loss having a major affect on his concentration and overall health. They were content to just leave him to it, until Sunday morning, when a notice was posted through his door. It stated that if he didn't attend his classes soon, he risked lowering his attendance below the requirements for free accommodation. Tess - in his current state - would've given anything not to have to move back in with his family, who held little love for himself or his brother. Most of them had refused to attend the funeral, others probably weren't even aware of what happened. The thought in itself made him sick, whenever his mind wandered to such things.

As he pulled the tie tighter around his neck, Tess gave an exasperated sigh, almost as if he would have given anything in that moment to just... deflate. His eyes, hollow as they were, settled on the pair staring back at them, before shifting downwards to allow him to check his uniform. It was perfectly dishevelled, as per usual, and strangely comforting. It was almost like a sense of familiarity had washed over him, and - despite everything - he found himself smiling. It faded as quickly as it had appeared, and soon enough he was walking towards the door.

He hadn't bothered to tell anyone that he'd be returning that day. In fact, it would be the first time he'd seen anybody since the day he found out. He had instinctively shut himself away in his apartment, and over the course of two weeks, he'd refused any and all visitors. Part of him was looking forward to seeing everyone again, namely his two closest friends, but another decidedly overwhelming part was worried half to death that he'd lost the respect of his clique. He was their leader, yet he had opted to abandon them in their time of loss. It had affected him the most, there was no doubt about it, but Theo was close to everyone, and everyone had lost him. As Tess thought about this, he began absentmindedly cracking his knuckles, his eyes focused more on the path ahead. He was not the only one leaving the accommodations so early, and he'd prefer not to bump into anyone and everyone ahead of him.

The building for housing was directly beside the school, so much so that you could see in people's bedrooms from the classrooms, but there was a long path up from the gate to the doors, and so it took him a fair few minutes to make it all the way there. He stalled for a moment outside of the building, silently debating whether to wait there for one of his own or to head straight to the second floor, where his classroom was. He opted for the latter, considering he didn't trust himself not to lunge at the nearest clique leader, of which there were few. So he continued walking, keeping his head down. A few of his own Outcasts had approached him, but Tess kept the conversation brief and - strangely enough - polite, before moving on. It took him a total of twenty minutes to reach the classroom door, where he was the first to have arrived.

Running his hand through his hair, Tess gave a huff and leaned against the opposite wall.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tess O'Callaghan Character Portrait: Arabella Adeojo Character Portrait: Alistair Blackketter Character Portrait: Jack Smith
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Alistair Blacketter
Tresblood Apartment Room #022 -> Moreton School Parking Lot
06:00 -> 07:56
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"Me? I do it because I want them to believe in me. I want to be relied on."

A pale hand was clenched into a tight fist, resting on a button up shirt against a smooth chest. The stance was a powerful one, the words equally powerful to match. A pale face was set in stone, a determined look was conveyed through fiery red eyes. Within a moment, all emotion drained from his features. His arm went limp and the fire red eyes smoked out into a dull crimson that portray nothing. Alistair shifted the headphones that rested on his pristine and slightly wet, jet black hair. Having been fresh from a shower, he had immediately opened up his computer and programs for a recording session that had been planned for that morning. Picking up a bottle of water to sip at, he listened to his recording session partner let out a squeal of appreciation.

"Oh my, Alistair, that was as perfect as ever! Harashi is going to be such a splendid character with your voice. The fans are going to be pleased."

"Next line, please." He briskly shoved aside the compliment, an audible sigh coming from his headphones.


After another hour running lines, Alistair clicked out of his Skype call and began to get ready for school. He pulled on his jacket, buttoning it up with proper care. His sister was on a train to Inaba for a movie shoot and wasn't going to be back for some time. For the time being, the house was in his charge. It wasn't all that strange as it was something he had been doing since he was twelve or so. Fixing to set out with nothing more for breakfast than the piece of toast hanging from his lips, he opened the door to his apartment and locked it behind him. He walked down the steps as he nibbled at his toast.
It had gotten to be about seven thirty and he was well on his way to be halfway to school and finished with his toast. His fingers brushed his neck gently in idle thought, fuzzy memories floating about in his mind.

"Arabella's game is after school." He spoke aloud to distract himself from thinking on his past. He closed his eyes, his mind instead wandering to the recent past and the account of supposed 'murder' of some student. It didn't concern him much, though many suspected him as the leader of a clique to be responsible. He let out a long sigh. "I didn't ask for any of this trouble...." He mumbled, almost done with the two hour foot trek to school. Something he does to build endurance for his weak physique.



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Jack Smith
Smith Manor -> Moreton School
07:30 -> 08:23
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"I-I'm so sorry Mr. Smith, I-"

"You're still talking to me." He spoke with a soft look on his face, his voice soft and mellow. His words were cutting and cold, causing his parent's secretary to become silent. The bandage that adorned his left arms now had a budding red color emerging from the pristine white. The secretary had bumped into his fresh wound turning down a hall suddenly. He had broken his arm the day before falling out of a tree in a successful attempt to rescue and positioned a nest on the verge of falling from a loose and rotting limb onto a better one. The rotting one snapped under his weight, causing him to fall and break his arm.

It was nothing new, an incident like this was bound to happen at least once a month. He had even just recently busted his lip on a fire escape, though no sign of that horror remained on his flawless face.

He sent the woman off, going into his own private bathroom to redress his wound, something he had done a hundred times over. With out much warning, his mother had walked into his bathroom, subsequently slapping him across his face.

This, too, was not all that bizarre. His mother had learned of this injury on here way home from a shoot, only just having come back now.

"How could you mare your beautiful body the day before a very important shoot!" She began her wild rant, seeming wounded and crying on about how her ungrateful son was dead set on humiliating her. The young man watched her continue on, a pleasant look on his face the whole time despite the awful sting in his cheek.

"Mother, the shoot is strictly a profile shot on my part. I can simply hide my arm in that sense." He calmly reassured her, hoping to get her to leave.


Sitting at his desk, he quietly tapped at the clean bandage on his arm. The class was almost full and bustling with useless chatter. The only one whom was reasonable quiet was the leader of one of the more useless cliques, Tess if he remembered right. Not like it mattered, the boy was trash who could hardly hold up a candle to Jack. Though he knew the reason for his silence, the apparent murder of his younger brother was still hot news. "Only trash could mourn trash..." He spoke under his breath, resting his chin in his hand as he looked to the front of the class.