✠ Jacob -

A sudden bombing in Washington in the early 2000s devastates civilian areas and lasts for several hours. The military mobilizes and even sends student interns to save lives.

Name: Jacob Feligrenno
Age: 23 years.
Height: 1.86
Sex: Male.
Nationality: Greenlandic.
Occupation: Student in the American militias specializing as a pilot.

He had short, dark brown, almost black hair. Sharp, inquisitive eyes, a deep jet black. His facial features were elegant and attractive, sharp, as if slashed by a blade. Prominent cheekbones, a straight nose, and thick eyebrows. This contrasted with his very pale skin. His physique was muscular, but not to the point of appearing exaggerated; he was lean but still looked very well-trained. Tall, with long arms and legs, and large hands. He had a tattoo on his left shoulder blade of a mythological creature, a legend from his homeland in Greenland. It extended down his back with a long, black, spiky tail, but it was almost always hidden by his clothing. He rarely showed it.

Military attire was his preferred clothing for everyday wear, clearly. But when he wanted to be a little less formal or was away from the academy, he wore fitted shirts with collars and long sleeves. Simple black leather jackets. Long, elegant coats. Overall, he had an old-money bearing, but he didn't overdo it to appear arrogant. He wore reading glasses in private, and leather boots were his go-to for casual outings. He wore dark clothing.

Born in Greenland, in the capital city of Nuuk, he was accustomed to the surrounding freezing cold. His parents, two farmers who made their living fishing, showered him with all the love a humble family could offer. His childhood was peaceful, marked by hardship during some winters, but happy nonetheless. His daily life was perfect until a tragic New Year—January 2, 1992, to be exact—when an accident struck. While his parents were fishing, an icefall from a nearby mountain collapsed, killing them both. Jacob lost his stability and his family, both at once, just like that, at the tender age of 12. From that moment on, the once happy boy became harder and more frozen than the glaciers surrounding his homeland. In his destitution, he was taken in by a social worker and placed in an orphanage on the other side of the country. But the boy, in his rebellious state, escaped his fate and boarded a fishing yacht—one he knew so well, being the son of fishmongers—carrying a cargo bound for the United States. Upon arriving there, cold and hungry due to the length and magnitude of the journey, during which he had fortunately gone undetected, he found himself stranded in the busy streets near the busiest port on one of its coasts. There, he suddenly fainted from exhaustion.

Fortunately, he was adopted there by a young doctor—34-year-old Robert Waylen—who took pity on his condition. Jacob was initially reserved in his presence and spoke very little, but as time passed, he began to open up. His adoptive father could see the pain inside him and helped him stay afloat. Nevertheless, Jacob became independent very soon. He enlisted in the Washington military—since he had some skill with weapons—and began his studies at 16. There, he encountered the magnificence of large machines: airplanes. He was impressed by them, and a desire arose within him to master these powerful machines. So he began his studies to become a Commercial Aviation Pilot and Air Operations Officer.

At the academy, he was known for his coldness and apparent 'silent superiority.' This was because his interpersonal relationships were scarce; he was extremely unfriendly and serious, and his character was a high, sharp wall that immediately drove people away. There were times when he was almost ridiculed by some of his classmates. It's known that these students ended up being expelled one way or another, with nothing less than expressions of horror on their faces, already wishing they could leave. All because of Jacob, who only wore a poker face and stared out the window with contemptuous eyes. He was currently almost at the point of graduation; everyone knew he would be a great pilot because of his skill and knowledge, but contrary to this, his personal life seemed like the deepest abyss.

Cold, but a level of coldness that froze everything around him, which was somewhat impressive. Closed off. Dark. Sometimes he seemed rather lazy, but in reality, he was completely analyzing you. Distant. Somewhat sullen and reclusive. Intelligent, seriously, he was truly capable of acting quickly and still thinking through every step. Decisive. Coherent. Logical. Analytical. Detail-oriented; he had a phobia of order and dirt. Serious, direct, eccentric, strategic.

When he opened up to people, he was sarcastic but not cruel. Sometimes he was kind and considerate to those he saw in a difficult situation. He was loyal to his friends and loved ones to the death; he valued them above all else. His smiles were so rare you could count them on your fingers—according to Dr. Waylen—and it was even more impossible to see him cry or express relatively strong emotions related to sadness, joy, or anxiety. The expressions that best suited his face were anger and boredom. When he felt affection for something or someone, he expressed it in his eyes with a mischievous glint and sometimes an expression of disbelief or raised eyebrows—he was an expert at the latter—these were the reflection of what he truly felt. When he was comfortable with someone, his ironies bordered on the funny and unsettling, but he was very entertaining.

He had somewhat eccentric tastes. He read books on philosophy and philology, military technique, and politics. But his greatest passion was airplanes; he had blueprints, guides, curiosities—everything. He enjoyed art and sculpture, especially Michelangelo's, and visited the city's various museums in his free time. He loved coffee and hot drinks. He preferred simple meals to anything too elaborate. He liked weapons and kept a small, well-maintained collection. What he liked most about people was silence, unspoken understanding, comprehension, seriousness, and intelligence. He was obsessed with order. But he also appreciated originality; unique people earned a second glance, but not intrusion from him. He listened a lot to Rag'n'Bone Man and The Neighbourhood.

Disorder. Brusqueness and imposition. He detested arrogant and malicious people who mistreated others or pretended to be nice. January. Romantic poetry. Carrots. Anyone who spoke ill of his origins—he loved his country intensely. Fake news. The President of the United States. Generic language. And in general, anyone who told him that airplanes were junk.

▪︎ Birth: January 3, 1980.
▪︎He had no siblings or family other than his parents, only a distant cousin named Jake Gonewreng from Greenland who never wanted to know about Jacob.
▪︎ His adoptive father: Robert Waylen, currently 45 years old. A doctor specializing in surgical treatment. Blond with green eyes. Handsome, 1.80 meters tall. Unlike Jacob, very affectionate and clingy.
▪︎At the academy, I had two classmates whom I greatly appreciated and considered like brothers: - Louis Creville, an African American who studied criminology and was extremely intelligent and kind.
Enrique Terrosa, of Latin American origin, Mexican with a poor English accent. He was also studying to be a pilot. He was very funny and strong, more of a mixed personality than Jacob, but they still got along very well.