There's nothing to brighten the mood like another spawn of Satan.

No, really. Seriously. Don't you see the familial resemblance, and don't you see the quite literally bright clothing that he's wearing? You really can't miss the bright pink scarf draped around his neck. Then again, you might be distracted by the half-lazy, half-flamboyant way ( Read more... )

If he resembled one of his parents more than the other, he would have appeared in a flash-- looking unapproachably cool. If he resembled his other parent more, he would have arrived smiling, attentively friendly. His entrance, however, is like neither, because he resembles both of them equally. It's subtle-- an absentminded entrance, reading an ( Read more... )

To those who don't know him for what sort of person he really is, he may seem remarkably average, if good-looking. Slightly on the tall side with dark hair, lightly eyelinered eyes, black slacks (though they might be a little tighter than pants really ought to be), and a loosely buttoned shirt -- he's all charm and affability. Please ignore the ( Read more... )

Tall and lanky are about as good of a description for this one as they were for his brother. He's a little too thin, really, looking just short of entirely healthy in the right light and looking entirely unperturbed by that fact. Unlike his brother, he is not currently smoking and he didn't get stoned before heading in here, either. How boring ( Read more... )

There's a rustle of feathers overhead, a swooping shadow, and Persis touches down, her large white wings outspread behind her. A young woman in her early twenties, she's clothed in tight-fitting leather trousers and a backless shirt (all the better for flying in), heavily jewelled bracelets around both her wrists and an amber Kiss jewel glinting ( Read more... )

*he's sixteen, curly-haired, and biracial, seated in a corner, an electric violin held under his chin. He salutes with his bow, waving it in a lazy circle before going into an exaggerated bend from the waist, almost touching his nose to the floor*

Hi. I'm Fiddler. You guys don't notice anything, I've been here for two days already and the first ( Read more... )

*the first thing anyone's going to notice is the crackling sound of flames filling the air; the second thing will be, a few seconds later, the sound's source making itself evident by the rather large column of orange flame that's materialized out of nowhere in particular -- this will slowly resolve itself into the shape of a young man, still molded ( Read more... )

He's cute in an innocent sort of way, edging into the room wearing a nondescript t-shirt, jeans, and hat; there's also a backpack strapped across his shoulders, slightly battered but none worse for the wear. His expression can best be described as hopeful and wary -- angelic awareness tinged with human experience ( Read more... )

Greetings and salutations and all that fun stuff! My name is Adam Lyesmith and it is my great pleasure to make everyone's acquaintances. I hope to make myself a good home here and get to know you all a little better. *somewhat flirtatious wink, and a polite bow*

Typist: ... I gave in. It's crackspawn. The son of Low Key and John Constantine. Um ( Read more... )

Enter a young man, about twenty-one, with fair skin and red hair. He's well-dressed, if a bit dandyish (something his father mocks him for) and not unpleasant to look at, though to his great dismay he has not yet managed to grow a beard (something his mother mocks him for.) He takes a look around, eyes most likely lingering on the women of the ( Read more... )