Kenton Blake

Player: Neon

Clan: Tremere Kenton’s demeanor is marked by slow-smouldering simpers and long puffs of a cigarette; marked by a certain languor akin to the rolling of morning fog upon the English countryside. His frame, slim and long, stands at 5’10’’, but has a demure slack that makes it altogether unimposing. The Englishman is perpetually well-dressed, preferring well-cut suits, turtlenecks, and other such affectations that mark what comes to mind when one thinks of the average academician. He keeps his short, dark brown hair well-kept and slicked with a tad of pomade. His eyes, once colored like the aquamarine of the Pacific Ocean, have faded from his Embrace, now similar to the color of a chlorinated pool. They are possessed by a perpetual fox-like glint, focus intently on the matter at hand, rarely moving away. In conversation, he takes long scans of the person he is speaking to, and heavy, slow blinks. When he speaks, his English-accented voice is the heat of the hearth - a warm, rich crackle marked by a constant purr and low, throaty laughs, and the assurance of hearty conversation. There’s something vaguely alluring about his tone, as if his very sound carries with it the innuendous promise of unspoken secrets.

Despite this relaxed pose, there is something fairly, unnerving about Kenton’s presence. It’s a cryptic and subtle dread, the feeling of being watched and constant glances behind the shoulder. It’s the fear of skullduggery, of betrayal, of the short death after the long con. The knife in your back. And that sensation never leaves.

[ Appearance 3 | Charisma 2 | Eerie Presence | Enchanting Voice | Intimidation 1 ]