*lounging on a couch, sipping at a bottle of wine, lazy and content--he's in a good mood*

It's time to reaffirm family loyalties. Certain things must be discussed.

Twig and Molochai? Nothing? Chrissy? Jessy, you too. Come to me.

*Zillah walks into the room, sitting down on a wide couch, slinging down a backpack full of bottles of blood and wine, packages of sugary trash, and reaches into it, digging out a bottle and sipping at it, waiting. His posture could almost be mistaken for idle laziness, careless, drugged, if you didn't see his eyes, razor-sharp and psychotic, ( Read more... )

A young Frenchman leans nonchalantly against a wall, barely visible until he moves with a panther-like elegance. He has dark hair and eyes and a fine-boned grace, and is short, but every movement shows that innate grace and power. All he wears is a sweater and jeans, whatever the weather, but doesn't look sloppy ( Read more... )

*peeks around the doorway before entering, looking around carefully before sitting down, a breathtaking young man with a spray of anemones in his hair*

Hello, then. My name's Adonis. That's all.

Look, if you see Aphrodite or Persephone, don't tell them I'm here, alright?

Typist: From Greek myth. Prettiest prettyboy of them all.