Cocytus is bored. How one can be entirely bored while on the mansion grounds is a mystery even to him but that does not change the fact that boredom has most definitely set in. This is made clear by the fact that he is doing something which he can often be found doing, that is reading Dante's The Divine Comedy while also reciting it. His ( Read more... )

( Image Heavy Meme Sheep )

*is actually smiling somewhat with the ferret perched on his shoulder, as per usual* Well, one good thing's come out of Christmas for once. I feel like myself again.

*is a bit bored and a bit tired and sitting in a window, staring up at a sky that looks about ready to pour something down and yet refuses to open wide, and speaks to himself, quoting something not Dante for once* "Well, what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does ( Read more... )

*as he's been spewing numbers throughout random intervals of the day, the typist shall proceed to record this next installment ( Read more... )

( Private )

He sits in a window seat in some quiet room of the mansion far off from any noise. There's a little girl curled up in his arms, fast asleep with her head on his shoulder and dirty ragdoll clutched tightly to her chest, and his expression is tired, possibly sad. It's hard to tell, really, but the dim light that creeps in from the half-open door ( Read more... )

*is mohawk'd, currently in grungy UK punk-era attire (torn-up t-shirt, tight blue-jeans, Dr. Martens, torn flannel, etc.) and sporting the devestated remains of black nail-polish* *eyetwitch* *scowl and lights a cigarette while Caina climbs up to his shoulder so she can sniff curiously at the gel-encrusted hair spikes*

( FERRET! )

*sitting in the window again as the inhabitants of the apartment await the arrival of the typist's family he quotes*

Through me the way into the suffering city ( Read more... )