Gaylord Jacques Francesque Rodrigue (goes by Jacques)
At the seasoned age of sixteen and a half - practically an adult by his standards! - Jacques has the appearance of a thirteen year old boy, and that may even be a modest estimate. He stands barely above five feet tall, thanks to a single lonely quarter-inch, and holds claim to a meager 98 pounds. His face is gentle, slightly rounded, and dotted with a sloppy handful of freckles (as are his shoulders should they ever be visible). A prominent nose juts out from between a his lash-framed brown eyes, and above those his eyebrows are thin and perky. His silky hair is bright blonde, going only a little ways down his neck. It's usually a bit messy despite his best efforts to keep it in check. He also possesses an unfortunate pair of buckteeth. This does not stop him from presenting a pleasant grin, however. He is usually seen with a smile of some form or fashion.
Needless to say, Jacques stands out in a few ways. But despite being remarkably small and startlingly blonde, he is generally recognized not for his physical features, but for his preposterously flashy attire. Adorned in a navy-colored uniform, laced up with gold stripes and buttons, Jacques openly wears his wealth. His uniform comes fitted with all the bells and whistles: a pair of sashes strewn across his chest in a clean "X" shape, a sturdy belt, striped and buttoned wrist cuffs, spiffy black gloves, and boots to boot! It should be noted that he takes all measures necessary to keep his uniform clean and stylish. And he does indeed wear it well. His posture backs up his outfit, sharp and straight as a die. In public and private he has a habit of marching - as opposed to just walking like a sensible human being. He carries with him a hardy black rucksack - perhaps the most humble item he owns - suitable for carrying various equipment and necessities... though he tends to keep it full of things like extra food and handkerchiefs instead of practical items.
Jacques rarely fails to make an excellent first impression. He's skilled in the art of appeasing strangers, and perhaps even more skilled when it comes to appeasing his elders. Though he always does his best to maintain his charm and respectable mannerisms regardless of circumstance, in the presence of adults or unfamiliar folk he puts on particular airs. His laid-back (and rather oblivious) nature allows him to keep his cool in most situations. On top of that he is very well-kept. Jacques keeps himself clean as a whistle. Even while travelling he's a compulsive neat freak; he'll take the lengthiest detours to avoid trudging through mud, or hault everything to sew up a hole in his uniform. Looking presentable is amongst his top priorities. Polite, tactful, and well-mannered, he appears to be quite the upstanding young gentleman... at least, for the first ten minutes or so.
Unfortunately, hanging around Jacques for too very long reveals that he's a painfully pompous little bastard. He is stuck-up, bratty, and has a rotten judgmental streak. Though he can maintain the guise of being even-keel and unfazed he does get very irate when things don't go his way, and under enough pressure he's not above throwing a temper tantrum. This all stems from a hefty superiority complex, which in turn stems from a heftier inferiority complex. As a young nobleman he's spent his life under the abstract impression that he must be above the common folk by default of his social class, but in all fairness he knows he's no better than anyone else.
It's not that he's dishonest; quite frankly he just doesn't seem to understand that it's insincere to disguise his self-centered nature with exaggerated niceties. He's the product of an aristocratic upbringing: spoiled rotten, yes, but look how polite he is! And he does mean well in his own right. He's outgoing and friendly, granted he loves the attention it gets him. In a group, he'll go out of his way to make an outsider feel welcome, so long as he's the one in the spotlight. He offers his assistance openly to those who may need it - though he may expect a favor in return. Jacques' character is altogether an obnoxious mashup of ups and downs, but if one can overlook his petty faults they'll find in him a loyal companion.
Gaylord Jacques Francesque Rodrigue was born the only child of Baron Gaylord Bastien Rosaire Rodrigue. The Baron was known far and wide for his military expertise, though a large amount of his wealth was of rather dubious origin. Rumor had it the Baron cut secret deals with foreign nations during past wars. Some suspected he was not even native to Khermia at all, but that he arrived from a foreign land long ago with enough riches to acquire a noble position. No one really knew much about him, and as such his identity was shrouded in suspicions. As for the man himself, he was far too busy tending to his own affairs to concern himself with the curiosity of the masses. In fact, he seldom stayed long even at his own luxurious estate. Jacques as a result never really knew his father. He respected and revered him, but in reality the two of them rarely interacted - and when they did it wasn't exactly affectionate. He was raised instead by his mother, Baroness Antoinette Joceline Marielle Rodrigue. Unlike the Baron, the Baroness was very nurturing and always present- even when she left the estate for trips across Khermia she would bring Jacques along. She's the one who taught him everything about being a young aristocrat. Needless to say the two of them were quite close. Jacques and his father, on the other hand, maintained a very businesslike relationship. On those few occasions the Baron was home, he would tell his son about all the great things he expected of him, and Jacques would respond with wholehearted enthusiasm. As a child he wanted nothing more than to please his father. "When you're old enough," his father would say, "Son, you're going to attend Al-Revis Academy, and you're going to do a fine job there!" And Jacques would say, "Yes, father! Of course I will!"
And indeed he did... though he had a rough time when he started out. It was his first time really experiencing the world outside of his sheltered-rich-kid home life. He especially missed his mother. However, there was a plus side to attending the academy: Jacques got himself lots of attention, being the charming son of a mysterious baron. He always had a great interest in Alchemy. Pokemon, though, were a new experience for him. Initially, Jacques couldn't stand them. They were dirty animals, lacking in the civilized mannerisms he was so used to, and battling was all kinds of barbaric! He spent his first semester and a half or so utterly repulsed by them, though he did well in Pokemon classes when it came to work on paper. Steadily, though, as contact with actual Pokemon became a regular part of his school life, he began to tolerate them, and admittedly grew to adore some of them. (But, even today, certain Pokemon are utterly repulsive to him.)
He became rather popular amongst his peers. Over the course of his time at the Academy he accumulated - and subsequently lost - countless cheap friendships. He never minded losing friends, as he always had plenty more, and could make more thanks to his apparent charisma. He didn't value friends much. That is, until people started catching on to the fact that he was an elitist moron. Rumors sometimes spread about him, and he was even bullied on occasion. Jacques kept a level head through most of it, though. He was too oblivious to recognize it half the time, and he was above those rotten commoners anyways. But towards the end of his time at the Academy he found that almost all of his "friends" had abandoned him. Since then he's actually become more earnest as a friend; after knowing what it's like to be alone he honestly values companionship.
(This sample's from an RP I signed up for that never got up and running. It's a little dated, but it's the most recent thing I've got.)
To be quite frank, Adrian was out of his element. Far from civilization, not a speck of pavement in sight, deep in the unforgiving wilderness of… Route 29. Not that he seemed to mind! He trudged clumsily but steadily, his oversized coat shielding him from the scrapes and cuts he’d otherwise suffer as he carved his trail through bushes and undergrowth. It was a bit of an odd sight, really. His companion, his mother’s beloved Kadabra, followed along miserably, casting a tired yet wary glance back and forth. A Sentret crept close, but was quickly frightened off as Kadabra glared and waved his trusty spoon.
“Sure are a lotta Sentrets out here,” Adrian commented simply. Kadabra sighed audibly. “Heh, come on now, buddy, we’re almost there! … At least, I think we are.”
The Psychic Pokémon had not volunteered for the job of escorting this scrappy hooligan. Accompanying him on his childish excursions to Goldenrod was bad enough, but for this he had spent a whole week with the kid (Kadabra would always view Adrian as a child, regardless of how old he got). It wasn’t that Kadabra hated Adrian, of course. Kadabra was actually quite fond of his trainer’s spawnling in short bursts, but accompanying him on long journeys such as this reduced his fondness for the boy to a grudging tolerance. He deeply regretted having never visited New Bark in the past; otherwise this trip could have been settled in a quick use of his Teleport skill. Then again, Adrian’s mother had made it clear that she wanted him to get in some travel experience before beginning his community service session. Even Kadabra had to admit that there was at least a point to this—
“See, what’d I tell you, we made it!”
Kadabra looked up to find the streets and homes of New Bark Town staring him in the face.
Adrian’s enthusiasm was sincere, even a bit eager. He had not only resigned himself to his fate, a summer of organized work, but had come to view it as an opportunity to get out and do something, perhaps even to enjoy himself. He was always quite the optimist, after all, and being stuck in Ecruteak City was all kinds of boring anyways.
Kadabra, on the other hand, would not feel enthusiastic nor relieved until he was rid of Adrian. The boy had taken off running down the sidewalk. “No time to waste!” Kadabra struggled to keep up.
“I wonder if anyone knows where the hell this place is… Hey! Hey, lady, yeah you…! Would you happen t’know where the SOUL summer program headquarters are?”
The poor older woman he’d addressed gave him an odd (and a little bit frightened) look. Then she turned to the side… “O… Oh…! Isn’t that this building here…?”
Adrian paused and adjusted his glasses. Sure enough, right next to him was a big sign that read “SOUL Headquarters”.
“Heheh, oh, right. Err, thanks, ma’am!”
But the woman, who was on her way across the street putting as much distance as she could manage between herself and the loud scruffy teen, didn’t seem to hear him. He shrugged it off and made his way inside…
… and was immediately greeted by a rather harsh voice.
“There you are!” A young lady stared him down from the opposite side of a large lobby room. “Do you have any idea how late you are—uh—you’re Adrian, right…?”
“That’s me!” he answered without hesitation.
“Alright, good. Do you have any idea how late you are?!”
“Not really,” he admitted with an apologetic grin. “I didn’t bring a watch or a phone or anything. It is Saturday at least, isn’t it?” Kadabra huffed disapprovingly.
“Well, yes, it is Saturday, but it’s four in the afternoon! You were supposed to be here at eight this morning! Everyone else has already come and gone a long time ago!” The tone of her voice intensified with each with each statement.
“Haha, oops.” Adrian seemed almost oblivious. “So, are you Lillian? … And hey are those the Pokémon?” A table littered with Pokéballs caught his eye. He hurried over to it immediately without waiting for her answer.
“N… No, I’m an assistant counselor. Lillian left about an hour ago, looking for you. And, umm… y-yes, that’s what’s left of our Pokémon selection. We had them set up with labels this morning, but since you showed up so late--”
“I pick this one!”
Adrian selected a ball at random, gently pointed a couple fingers toward it, and motioned upwards. The ball began to rise, albeit shakily. It then twirled around his hand in a dizzy, sluggish little dance. Kadabra huffed again, this time louder. The assistant counselor, who had been informed about Adrian’s “Psychic abilities”, was not impressed.
“Err, why don’t you wait and let me get them labeled again…? This Pokémon is going to be your partner for the whole summer; shouldn’t this be a bit of a thoughtful decision?”
“Nuh…” Adrian lost his concentration and dropped the ball, barely managing to catch it in his hands as it fell. “Naww, any Pokémon’s as good as any other, right?” After a moment of fumbling around for the button, he successfully located it and released the ball’s contents.
“Well, I suppose so, but…”
“Awwh, hi there little guy, err, girl…!” He knelt down and greeted the Nidoran that emerged, gently petting her ears. The creature met the gesture with warm and almost unconditional acceptance. “See, this is perfect!”
“If you say so… And you do know you can’t keep that Kadabra with you, right?”
As if on cue, Kadabra closed his eyes, lowered his head, and vanished in a flash of white light. The Nidoran jumped a little, and gave a startled squeak.
“… He didn’t even say goodbye,” Adrian muttered, still petting his new companion. Oh well. He wasn’t especially surprised anyways; Kadabra had little patience for such formalities.
“Well, I guess that settles it,” the lady said with a sigh. She began heading toward a nearby door. “You wait here. I’ll call Lillian, and when she gets back we can get you all set up, alright?”