*flexes his wings with a slightly nervous smile* Hello. I'm Giovanni. It's a pleasure to meet you all.

Typist: ... I couldn't get him to say anymore. Jophiel/Asmy spawn. W00t!

*and he is an exact duplicate of the lovely gentleman who arrived just before him, except that his hair is a painfully bright green and he lacks a tie.* *and there's a kitten in each hand (they're three weeks old, maybe four, by now)* *there's also one of the six full grown Siamese draped over his shoulder ( Read more... )

*walks in, hands jammed in pockets, and looks around*

Hi. 'M Jeff.

[Typist: YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW. TRUST ME. YOU REALLY DON'T. For that matter, HE wishes HE didn't know, too. XD Okayfine. Hastur/Ligur spawn. Told you you didn't wanna know]

This is Enoch. This is a soul-shattered, bloodsmeared Enoch. There is, we must note, no emotion at all in his eyes, and his face shows only betrayal. This is noted because no matter what expression Enoch wears, there's always love tucked away in at least some small corner of his bearing. It is not there now.

( Cut for gore and soulbreakage )

"I'm afraid I've been skulking around for quite a little while, but I figure I have to properly introduce myself eventually." A short young woman (4'8") appears in the mansion main room. Her hair is dark and curly, and she's rlyextremelybustyzomg. "I'm Enoch, son of Jophiel and Lamia. ... I think that's all, really." She pauses, looking thoughtful ( Read more... )

*walks in, stride even and confident -- a young woman in her early twenties, tall (only an inch or two shy of six feet) and quite attractive, with dark hair and startlingly bright blue eyes* *she's wearing all black -- camisole, blazer, pinstripe pants, stiletto-heeled boots -- with a silver crucifix around her neck, her other most distinguished ( Read more... )

( Typist note. Very important; please read. )

*another two girls, enter, these in their late teens or early twenties, identical, holding hands. Neither speak for quite some time.*

I'm Atarah. *nods, then nods to the other girl (onesilence)* I talk more than Malka. Hello.

Atarahtypist: More angelspawn, these the daughters of Michael and Raphael, and both rather... not quite there. Malka doesn't

This time it is mice, ladies and gentleferrets. Mice. Baby. Mice. So- about 3 - 4 weeks old. They all came from different places. They're all abandoned or orphaned... and I can't count them as they keep squirming. There are likely between 20 and 30 there. And be careful- some of them are popcorn mice. You have to keep hold of their tails when you ( Read more... )

It enters, or perhaps it was always there, but either way, It is here now, and that is all that matters. It is fuzzy for a moment, as if deciding just what it wants to be - because it can be anything, everything, whenever It cares to be so. It lights on the ground, easily stepping like one about to float back off. It has decided on androgeny today ( Read more... )