Thomas Jackson
Identity
Physical Appearance
Fair with cool undertones, a faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose
Deep chestnut brown with subtle auburn highlights
Medium-length, swept back loosely with natural waves that fall just past his ears. Often disheveled from running his hands through it when lost in thought
Steel grey with flecks of pale blue, sharp and observant
Lean and wiry, the build of someone who forgets to eat when engrossed in work. Defined shoulders, long fingers suited for precise movements
Style
Favors practical layers—fitted dark turtlenecks beneath worn leather jackets, slim-cut trousers in charcoal or navy. His wardrobe leans toward muted earth tones with the occasional deep burgundy accent. Always wears well-maintained boots regardless of occasion
A vintage silver watch inherited from his grandfather, worn on his left wrist. A thin leather cord around his neck holds a small Orthodox cross, usually tucked beneath his collar. Reading glasses with tortoiseshell frames that he constantly misplaces
Character
Quietly intense with a dry, understated humor that catches people off guard. Thomas observes more than he speaks, filing away details others miss. He's fiercely loyal to his inner circle but takes time to let new people in—trust, once broken, is rarely restored. Has a habit of deflecting personal questions with well-timed sarcasm. Genuinely compassionate beneath the reserved exterior, though he expresses care through actions rather than words. Prone to insomnia and midnight walks when his mind won't quiet
Backstory
Born in Boston to a Russian immigrant mother and an American father, Thomas spent his childhood navigating two worlds that didn't always intersect gracefully. His mother, Yelena, was a former ballerina from Saint Petersburg who traded the stage for teaching piano lessons in their cramped apartment. His father, Robert, worked long hours as an engineer, present in obligation but often absent in spirit.
The family summers spent visiting his grandmother in Moscow shaped Thomas more than anything else—the smell of her black tea, the icons in the corner of every room, her stories of survival through decades of upheaval. She taught him that strength wasn't loud, that endurance mattered more than spectacle.
When Thomas was sixteen, his parents' marriage finally collapsed under the weight of cultural friction and accumulated silences. He stayed with his mother, watching her rebuild herself one piano student at a time. That resilience became his template.
Now in his late twenties, Thomas works as a translator and interpreter, moving between languages and worlds with practiced ease. He keeps his grandmother's silver watch wound daily, though she passed three winters ago. Some nights, he still hears her voice in his dreams, speaking Russian proverbs he's never quite forgotten.