Physical Description: Blaize is easily remembered both by his name and its relation to his hair color. He is a sickly pale, scrawny kid with freckles that look odd compared to his pale complexion on every surface of his body, most noticeably his cheeks. His eyes are a dark grey are compared to that of a storm cloud, which compliments the broody pout or tight-lipped line that reflects on his lips.

Mental Description: His family has a lot to do with his respective personality. His portrayal of himself is stoic, in formal business settings yet his inability to listen or care stirs up trouble wherever he goes. But he does care, people just get under his skin quickly, mainly due to him keeping everyone at arms lengths due to suspicion or mistrust. Overall, he’s an enthusiastic kid who had a lively growing up, but school is truly his first taste of freedom, and he will surely blossom and change upon attending. As of current, he is broody and stand-offish with a heavy splash of creative freedom and exploration in his horizon.

Biography: His family consists of 3 main figures, his father, mother and younger sister. Aldric Valerian his father who is 37 years old with long-standing English origins, coming from the long Pureblooded lineage of Valerian Potioneers where he continues the craft. Signature red hair and looser curls, brown eyes and a scruffy full beard.

Next is his mother, Eloise Valerian who is 35 years old, French origins, coming from the Lavande Family, a well-known Pureblooded family of Herbologists. Long blonde looser curls and brown eyes.

Lastly Kahira Valerian his younger 10-year-old sister who is the second born and the youngest of the family. She too adorns the signature Valerian red hair with a combination of her mom’s curls, yet her temperament is about as tame as a raging fire.

First Instance of Magic: Ting. Ting..! TONG! The attempt to get his mother’s attention failed, as more acorns littered the ground where she stood, hunched over the cauldron. Finally, she stood up and pinched her temple, ushering the boy to take his younger sister out to play. Kids were of no use in the greenhouse, she always said. The boy, only eight years old and full of untamed energy, would grumble, it wasn’t like he wanted to be there anyways, but now he was on babysitting duty. Begrudgingly he yanked his sisters' hand to the far side of the property where a few stumps lay under a large oak. Harvesting a few acorns on the ground, he ducked behind the trunk of the tree, getting ready for more target practice, this time on a moving target. While his younger sister was more concerned with the flowers and grass, he lined up his first shot, hitting her square in the back. She whirled around and glared at him, which only encouraged his onslaught. Both hands loaded full this time he’d chuck them into the air, a dozen or so at different heights and speeds before a wail left her mouth. That wail could land him a serious talking to. “Wait! Don’t tell mom!” He waved his arms frantically, the acorns halting in their approach, a few inches above her head. The two stared stunned at the scene before they rained down just as quickly as they had frozen, his sister getting pelted nonetheless. And then the waterworks started. But he was too amazed to care.“HEY MOM GUESS WHAT!”