smarty0114

Paramount

Jamie Callaghan

_{(FC: Miles Heizer, Dialogue Color: 31ba9c)}
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F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

• James - Technically his real name. Often used by Katie when trying to piss him off.
• Jay - Close friends and family get to use this one. And Cute Boys™.

| | A G E | |

16, January 1st

| | G E N D E R | |

Male

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

Homosexual

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

The Golden Gate Gazette is his baby, and he's a stay at home dad.

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Junior

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A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

His father's height and his mother's metabolism, Jamie is the picture of a scrawny white boy with a burgeoning caffeine addiction. Sandy blonde hair is always swept across his forehead in a way that begs to be thought of as natural, but is almost certainly the results of many minutes spent preening in the mirror. Pale blue eyes, almost grey, betray an ever rushing mind, but a charming smile puts to bed any thoughts of manipulation.

When he's not in uniform, Jamie still dresses to kill. Preppy, and often times designer, clothes that scream, "I'm a pretty little rich boy." Which, y'know, he is. Since moving to San Francisco, he's added glasses to his wardrobe, if only to add to the aura that he's smarter than he has any right to be. Despite all the work Jamie puts into his appearance however, he's hardly a standout in the halls. He walks with a measured confidence, a tightrope walker treading a particularly thin wire. His place in the hierarchy is precarious at best, and there's no need to bring unwanted eyes onto himself.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

Since coming to Marble Heights last year, Jamie's made quite the name for himself. "A good listener," some say, "A backstabbing bitch," others whisper. Everybody knows Jamie is driven; he practically went to war to become the editor of The Golden Gate Gazette when his predecessor stepped down unexpectedly. He turned the newspaper club into a real commitment, but no one can deny that the stories have been better since he took over. Some, however, have begun to piece together that Jamie's lips might not be as tightly sealed as he once led people to believe. Those on the bottom rungs of Marble Height's ever shifting social hierarchy likely see the Marble Heights Gossip Monger as one of the chosen few, due to his close proximity to all that glitters, and those at the top likely view him as a useful pet. There is one thing everyone can agree on though: If it happened, Jamie Callaghan probably knows about it. If you're lucky, he might even help you keep it under wraps.

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O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Born to a pair of renowned surgeons in the heart of Beverly Hills, Jamie Callaghan has always had something to prove. When your mom and dad are regularly praised for how good they are at saving lives, well, it leaves one with an inferiority complex. It didn't help matters that his twin sister, Katie, was superb at being the center of attention, but the spotlight never seemed to appeal to Jamie. He was a bookworm as a kid though, still is to this day, and it wasn't long before a love of words became a passion for writing. Childish stories penned in a messy hand, would evolve into essays on why he and Katie should be allowed to have ice cream for breakfast.

By the time they'd reached high school, the chip on Jamie's shoulder had only grown bigger. Beverly Hills High School changed things. Getting to write for the school newspaper was a dream come true for pre-growth spurt Jamie, but he quickly learned one of the lesser discussed facts of journalism. Secrets pay. He leveraged this newfound knowledge to gain a position of popularity among the student body. Sophomore year was the birth of a more confident Jamie, one who'd discovered just how nice it felt to know things other's didn't. He was hot stuff, and he felt like his future was looking bright.

And then, it all blew up.

The wrong cup of tea, spilt to the wrong person, sent Jamie's house of cards tumbling. It didn't take long for him to become a social pariah at BHHS, sinking his future plans. The connections he'd been fostering were destroyed, his reputation sullied, and worst of all, he was getting saddled with the worst stories for the newspaper. So he ran. By January of his sophomore year, Jamie was a new student at Marble Heights Academy.

If only it were so easy to kick old habits. Jamie couldn't find many differences between Marble Heights and BHHS, other than the fact that here, nobody knew his name. Truth be told, that was all he needed. He joined the newspaper club, and by the end of the year would find himself the editor in chief. He used the year to build his connections, and was even able to get the Student Life (read: Gossip) column started up. Some might say Jamie's been stoking the flames for World War 3 at Marble Heights, but you'll never hear him admit it. After all, he's Switzerland baby.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

Somewhere, behind all those walls, there's a human. He's hiding, but he's present. Growing up surrounded by people who's only measure of value was success, Jamie places an irrational amount of importance on his place in society, on his future, but he's not a robot. He's a good friend, witty, clever, and most of the times, reliable. Feelings aren't his strong suit, and you'll hardly ever hear him tell you how much he cares, but it'll show in the way he remembers your coffee order and brings you one just because, or when he shows up to keep you company in the library, cause you've been studying for hours and he knows you need a break. Smart as he is, he sometimes has trouble seeing what's right in front of him, often lost in his own world, the one where he still has everything to prove.

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A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Editor in Chief of The Golden Gate Gazette

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
English & History
| W O R S T |
Math & Chemistry

Katie Callaghan

_{(FC: Kathryn Newton, Dialogue Color: 980404)}
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F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

| | A G E | |

16, January 1st

| | G E N D E R | |

Female

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

Mostly straight

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single (unless someone wants to be Katie's rebound...)

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

Waging war against the patriarchy

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Junior

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A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

Katie isn't particularly tall, standing at about 5'5. The metabolism of youth keeps her body slender. Her face is heart shaped, and framed by dirty blonde hair. Her eyes are hazel, like her mother's, and when she smiles, the corners crinkle. She likes to dress in a way that some might call grunge, but that she just calls "sick as fuck." Thrifted clothes are a particular favorite of hers.

Katie doesn't wear a lot of makeup. She would never claim to be giving off the "natural look" but she keeps it minimal, mostly because she hates doing it. Her smile has this reserved quality, like it's the first in a long time, until it breaks into a grin. When she smiles with her teeth, it's infectious. All of Katie's emotions are like that, displayed on her face for everyone to see.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

As loud as she is, it's damn near impossible to be unaware of Katie Callaghan. She is perhaps best known for a rousing supporting role in last years play, and for arguing with any meat headed boy dumb enough to try. Despite her outspoken nature, Katie is something of a social butterfly, collecting friends from every niche Marble Heights has to offer. That's not to say she's universally beloved though. For some, Katie's abrasive nature makes her all the more interesting; for others, there's no bigger turn off. One thing everybody knows though? Katie Callaghan doesn't hold back.

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O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Katie Callaghan is lucky. She's always known that. Her and her twin brother Jamie were children of privilege, there was no denying it. From the moment they were born, there wasn't a luxury that they didn't receive. Despite their lavish lifestyle, their father made sure to remind them that what they had was a privilege. He was from much simpler beginnings than their mother, and he was determined that his children not be silver spooners. This mentality rubbed off on the both of them, but especially Katie. She took to activism at a young age thanks to her fiery personality. Her protests at Beverly Hills Middle School, after they took chocolate muffins from the snack bar, was legendary.

Katie was much more than an activist, though. She was always interested in the stage, born with a natural flair for drama. Even in elementary school, she was a standout star in the school plays. She loved the spotlight, and the excitement of the stage. As she grew older, her interest deepened, and theatre became one of her truest loves. No one in the Callaghan house could forget waking up at all hours to the sound of Katie practicing her lines, with all the emotions she could muster.

As much as Katie loathes the idea that a man was the catalyst for her fabulous character development throughout high school, it's true to some extent. Scott Lyon changed her, whether she wants to admit it or not. A pair that started as sworn enemies, and slowly but surely became lovers. Until, she went and fucked it all up. She might as well have ghosted him. She broke up with him in a single text, and promptly followed her brother to Marble Heights, and to this day, she's still not totally sure why.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

Behind Katie's confidence is a thick fugue of self-doubt. Anyone who's been there for her in a stressful moment, will recognize the spiral of self-hatred she's known to spin into, suddenly questioning whether she's good enough for anything she has. Imposter Syndrome is strong with this one. However, most of Katie is thoroughly in line with the shell she displays to the world. She's not one for masks or games, and the only lies she tells, are to herself.

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A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Theater Club
• Chess Club

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
English
| W O R S T |
History

Alexander Elton "Alex" Durand

_{(FC: Timothee Chalamet, Dialogue Color: #57969e)}
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____________________________________________________________

F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

• Alex - The only name he'll answer to, unless you're his mommy.

| | A G E | |

16, August 14th

| | G E N D E R | |

Male

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

Confused

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

Cafe Server

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Junior

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A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

Alex has spent most of his life being told how much he looks like his father, but never has it been more true than right now. His slender, waify frame is the same one hidden away in old photo albums. If it weren't for his mother's eyes, he'd be indistinguishable from a young Wyatt Durand. Maybe that's why he got his ears pierced over the summer? Though, to be honest, he'd be better off shaving his head, though the thought of parting with his mop of hair is blasphemy in his mind. Alex, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, is not exactly keen on uniforms. He's taken to pushing the limits as far as he can with the uniform, and when he's not wearing it, he tries to keep it relaxed. If he can move in it, it's wearable.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

Look. Everyone knows you aren't supposed to have drugs at Marble Heights, but, hypothetically speaking, if someone were to have drugs, well, it would be Alex. If you need something, be it drugs, alcohol, a fucking goldfish, Alex is the man to talk to. One way or another, he'll find you what you need. Alex Durand is more than just the school stoner though. He's also the self proclaimed "Prankster Extraordinaire of Marble Heights," after stealing their rival school's mascot at last years homecoming game. In short, Alex is the class clown, always going for laughs.

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O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Once upon a time, Wheelz N' Dealz was a ramshackle little skate shop in Santa Monica, manned by a scrawny sixteen year old, and an old Italian man. Now, it's a national company, run by Wyatt Durand, teenaged fuckup turned entrepreneur. Alex is the eldest child of Wyatt and his wife, True, born shortly after Wyatt took over Wheelz N' Dealz. His parents were particularly enthusiastic about their first child, and Alex never wanted for anything. As his father's company grew and the family grew with it, Alex began to fade into the background. With five siblings, it's hard not to. When it came time for Alex to start high school, it was his idea to go away to Marble Heights. His mom didn't love the idea at first, but she came around. His dad on the other hand, was thoroughly impressed by his initiative, and soon, Alex was moving into his dorm.

His last two years at Marble Heights have been eventful to say the least. He finished off last year with a record number of detentions, and the dean of students has made it very clear that his antics will not be tolerated this year. Alex doesn't really know what to say to that, other than "I don't care?" He's finding his way through the world, one step at a time, and Marble Heights is just another stone along the way. It would be the shame to miss out on all the people here though, so begrudgingly, Alex is attempting to be good this year. We'll see how long that lasts.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

If you're ever lucky enough to actually spend some quality time with Alex, you'll find a surprisingly clever boy, under all the grandstanding. He's funny, and quite charming, a fiercely loyal friend when shit hits the fan. He tries to keep his head out of drama for the most part, unconcerned with what he considers "pointless shit," but at Marble Heights, drama seems to find you no matter where you go.

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A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Art Club

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
Art
| W O R S T |
Math

Addison Helmsley

_{(FC: f7cbb4, Dialogue Color: f7cbb4)}
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____________________________________________________________

F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

• Addie - Exclusively for her closest friends and family. Anyone else would be overstepping.
• Addie the Baddie - I'll let you figure out who uses this one.

| | A G E | |

15, January 25th

| | G E N D E R | |

Female

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

"Let me put it this way. I only kiss pretty people."

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single, but always mingling.

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

"Cute. Next question."

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Skipped a grade in elementary school, so a Junior.

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A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

One look at Addie, and it's obvious that she knows she's hot stuff. There's an ever present sashay to her walk, turning every hallway into a runway. Her light brown hair is always professionally done with blonde highlights, loosely curled into picture perfection. Makeup is a must-have, in all occasions. There's no such thing as casual when Addie is around. When she's not trying to make the uniform as flattering as possible, Addie's style can best be described as luxurious, but functional. She does her best to say "I'm rich as fuck, but I'll still kick your ass," without actually saying it.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

When Addie arrived at Marble Heights, she could've had it all. She had the looks, the brains, the fashion sense. None of that really mattered to her though. As far as she was concerned, she didn't need a clique to be popular, she'd do that all on her own, thank you very much. Addie found that she was much more interested in those at the bottom of the totem pole, the ones her classmates often ignored. Sure, they were pretty blown away when she sat at their table, dressed to kill, but she won them over. People know Addie now as one of the girls who simply couldn't be bothered. So long as you keep her family out of your crosshairs that is.

____________________________________________________________

O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Everyone told Becca Helmsley that she'd be an awful mother. They didn't phrase it like that, but it was obvious that that was what they meant. Hell, maybe they were right, but anyone who knows Becca, knows that you don't tell her what she can't do. As her siblings grew their families, Becca became envious. She didn't need some boring, family life to have a kid. She was Becca Helmsley, and if she wanted to be the best, god damn parent around, she would.

Thus is the beginning of Addison Helmsley. To Becca's credit, she made good on her mission. Addison's childhood was unconventional to say the least, but not lacking in educational opportunities. Her preschool was the Helmsley Enterprises boardroom, her kindergarten a congressional office, and her teachers the men and women that bowed to her mother's will. She learned early on what power looked like, and how it could be wielded. She also learned just how boring that really was.

Becca and Addison were always close, and Becca refused to let her busy life overtake the commitment she'd made. Becca Helmsley doesn't give up, that much is certain. However, Addie could never take life half as seriously as her mother did sometimes. She wanted to go with the flow, live by her own rules. Marble Heights was the perfect place for that. Becca remembered her teenage years fondly, and while she wasn't thrilled to let her baby go (much to Addison's surprise. Her mother was kind, but affection wasn't ever her strong suit.) she felt better knowing she'd be surrounded by family.

Marble Heights suited Addison, though not in the way many assumed it would. She took to independent life easily, having been well prepared for it. Her mother had never really treated her like a child, but as an equal. Addison took quickly to the misfits and outcasts of the school, chiseling out a niche as the campus' wise old woman, despite her babyface, and the fact that she was in fact a year younger than most of her classmates.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

Addie might just be one of the few truly open books at Marble Heights. She isn't one for hiding her thoughts or feelings, and it shows. She's loud and outspoken, and doesn't really care who knows it.

____________________________________________________________

A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Girls Soccer Team
• Fashion Club
• Future Member of the A.V. Club

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
Chemistry
| W O R S T |
English (She's not failing, she just has a B)

Paramount

Addison Helmsley

_{(FC: f7cbb4, Dialogue Color: f7cbb4)}
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____________________________________________________________

F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

• Addie - Exclusively for her closest friends and family. Anyone else would be overstepping.
• Addie the Baddie - I'll let you figure out who uses this one.

| | A G E | |

15, January 25th

| | G E N D E R | |

Female

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

"Let me put it this way. I only kiss pretty people."

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single, but always mingling.

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

"Cute. Next question."

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Skipped a grade in elementary school, so a Junior.

____________________________________________________________

A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

One look at Addie, and it's obvious that she knows she's hot stuff. There's an ever present sashay to her walk, turning every hallway into a runway. Her light brown hair is always professionally done with blonde highlights, loosely curled into picture perfection. Makeup is a must-have, in all occasions. There's no such thing as casual when Addie is around. When she's not trying to make the uniform as flattering as possible, Addie's style can best be described as luxurious, but functional. She does her best to say "I'm rich as fuck, but I'll still kick your ass," without actually saying it.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

When Addie arrived at Marble Heights, she could've had it all. She had the looks, the brains, the fashion sense. None of that really mattered to her though. As far as she was concerned, she didn't need a clique to be popular, she'd do that all on her own, thank you very much. Addie found that she was much more interested in those at the bottom of the totem pole, the ones her classmates often ignored. Sure, they were pretty blown away when she sat at their table, dressed to kill, but she won them over. People know Addie now as one of the girls who simply couldn't be bothered. So long as you keep her family out of your crosshairs that is.

____________________________________________________________

O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Everyone told Becca Helmsley that she'd be an awful mother. They didn't phrase it like that, but it was obvious that that was what they meant. Hell, maybe they were right, but anyone who knows Becca, knows that you don't tell her what she can't do. As her siblings grew their families, Becca became envious. She didn't need some boring, family life to have a kid. She was Becca Helmsley, and if she wanted to be the best, god damn parent around, she would.

Thus is the beginning of Addison Helmsley. To Becca's credit, she made good on her mission. Addison's childhood was unconventional to say the least, but not lacking in educational opportunities. Her preschool was the Helmsley Enterprises boardroom, her kindergarten a congressional office, and her teachers the men and women that bowed to her mother's will. She learned early on what power looked like, and how it could be wielded. She also learned just how boring that really was.

Becca and Addison were always close, and Becca refused to let her busy life overtake the commitment she'd made. Becca Helmsley doesn't give up, that much is certain. However, Addie could never take life half as seriously as her mother did sometimes. She wanted to go with the flow, live by her own rules. Marble Heights was the perfect place for that. Becca remembered her teenage years fondly, and while she wasn't thrilled to let her baby go (much to Addison's surprise. Her mother was kind, but affection wasn't ever her strong suit.) she felt better knowing she'd be surrounded by family.

Marble Heights suited Addison, though not in the way many assumed it would. She took to independent life easily, having been well prepared for it. Her mother had never really treated her like a child, but as an equal. Addison took quickly to the misfits and outcasts of the school, chiseling out a niche as the campus' wise old woman, despite her babyface, and the fact that she was in fact a year younger than most of her classmates.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

Addie might just be one of the few truly open books at Marble Heights. She isn't one for hiding her thoughts or feelings, and it shows. She's loud and outspoken, and doesn't really care who knows it.

____________________________________________________________

A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Girls Soccer Team
• Fashion Club
• Future Member of the A.V. Club

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
Chemistry
| W O R S T |
English (She's not failing, she just has a B)

Paramount

Alexander Elton "Alex" Durand

_{(FC: Timothee Chalamet, Dialogue Color: #57969e)}
____________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________

F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

• Alex - The only name he'll answer to, unless you're his mommy.

| | A G E | |

16, August 14th

| | G E N D E R | |

Male

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

Confused

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

Cafe Server

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Junior

____________________________________________________________

A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

Alex has spent most of his life being told how much he looks like his father, but never has it been more true than right now. His slender, waify frame is the same one hidden away in old photo albums. If it weren't for his mother's eyes, he'd be indistinguishable from a young Wyatt Durand. Maybe that's why he got his ears pierced over the summer? Though, to be honest, he'd be better off shaving his head, though the thought of parting with his mop of hair is blasphemy in his mind. Alex, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, is not exactly keen on uniforms. He's taken to pushing the limits as far as he can with the uniform, and when he's not wearing it, he tries to keep it relaxed. If he can move in it, it's wearable.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

Look. Everyone knows you aren't supposed to have drugs at Marble Heights, but, hypothetically speaking, if someone were to have drugs, well, it would be Alex. If you need something, be it drugs, alcohol, a fucking goldfish, Alex is the man to talk to. One way or another, he'll find you what you need. Alex Durand is more than just the school stoner though. He's also the self proclaimed "Prankster Extraordinaire of Marble Heights," after stealing their rival school's mascot at last years homecoming game. In short, Alex is the class clown, always going for laughs.

____________________________________________________________

O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Once upon a time, Wheelz N' Dealz was a ramshackle little skate shop in Santa Monica, manned by a scrawny sixteen year old, and an old Italian man. Now, it's a national company, run by Wyatt Durand, teenaged fuckup turned entrepreneur. Alex is the eldest child of Wyatt and his wife, True, born shortly after Wyatt took over Wheelz N' Dealz. His parents were particularly enthusiastic about their first child, and Alex never wanted for anything. As his father's company grew and the family grew with it, Alex began to fade into the background. With five siblings, it's hard not to. When it came time for Alex to start high school, it was his idea to go away to Marble Heights. His mom didn't love the idea at first, but she came around. His dad on the other hand, was thoroughly impressed by his initiative, and soon, Alex was moving into his dorm.

His last two years at Marble Heights have been eventful to say the least. He finished off last year with a record number of detentions, and the dean of students has made it very clear that his antics will not be tolerated this year. Alex doesn't really know what to say to that, other than "I don't care?" He's finding his way through the world, one step at a time, and Marble Heights is just another stone along the way. It would be the shame to miss out on all the people here though, so begrudgingly, Alex is attempting to be good this year. We'll see how long that lasts.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

If you're ever lucky enough to actually spend some quality time with Alex, you'll find a surprisingly clever boy, under all the grandstanding. He's funny, and quite charming, a fiercely loyal friend when shit hits the fan. He tries to keep his head out of drama for the most part, unconcerned with what he considers "pointless shit," but at Marble Heights, drama seems to find you no matter where you go.

____________________________________________________________

A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Art Club

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
Art
| W O R S T |
Math

Paramount

@Hey Im Jordan@LovelyComplex@Fabricant451

Katie Callaghan

_{(FC: Kathryn Newton, Dialogue Color: 980404)}
____________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________

F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

| | A G E | |

16, January 1st

| | G E N D E R | |

Female

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

Mostly straight

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single (unless someone wants to be Katie's rebound...)

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

Waging war against the patriarchy

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Junior

____________________________________________________________

A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

Katie isn't particularly tall, standing at about 5'5. The metabolism of youth keeps her body slender. Her face is heart shaped, and framed by dirty blonde hair. Her eyes are hazel, like her mother's, and when she smiles, the corners crinkle. She likes to dress in a way that some might call grunge, but that she just calls "sick as fuck." Thrifted clothes are a particular favorite of hers.

Katie doesn't wear a lot of makeup. She would never claim to be giving off the "natural look" but she keeps it minimal, mostly because she hates doing it. Her smile has this reserved quality, like it's the first in a long time, until it breaks into a grin. When she smiles with her teeth, it's infectious. All of Katie's emotions are like that, displayed on her face for everyone to see.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

As loud as she is, it's damn near impossible to be unaware of Katie Callaghan. She is perhaps best known for a rousing supporting role in last years play, and for arguing with any meat headed boy dumb enough to try. Despite her outspoken nature, Katie is something of a social butterfly, collecting friends from every niche Marble Heights has to offer. That's not to say she's universally beloved though. For some, Katie's abrasive nature makes her all the more interesting; for others, there's no bigger turn off. One thing everybody knows though? Katie Callaghan doesn't hold back.

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O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Katie Callaghan is lucky. She's always known that. Her and her twin brother Jamie were children of privilege, there was no denying it. From the moment they were born, there wasn't a luxury that they didn't receive. Despite their lavish lifestyle, their father made sure to remind them that what they had was a privilege. He was from much simpler beginnings than their mother, and he was determined that his children not be silver spooners. This mentality rubbed off on the both of them, but especially Katie. She took to activism at a young age thanks to her fiery personality. Her protests at Beverly Hills Middle School, after they took chocolate muffins from the snack bar, was legendary.

Katie was much more than an activist, though. She was always interested in the stage, born with a natural flair for drama. Even in elementary school, she was a standout star in the school plays. She loved the spotlight, and the excitement of the stage. As she grew older, her interest deepened, and theatre became one of her truest loves. No one in the Callaghan house could forget waking up at all hours to the sound of Katie practicing her lines, with all the emotions she could muster.

As much as Katie loathes the idea that a man was the catalyst for her fabulous character development throughout high school, it's true to some extent. Scott Lyon changed her, whether she wants to admit it or not. A pair that started as sworn enemies, and slowly but surely became lovers. Until, she went and fucked it all up. She might as well have ghosted him. She broke up with him in a single text, and promptly followed her brother to Marble Heights, and to this day, she's still not totally sure why.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

Behind Katie's confidence is a thick fugue of self-doubt. Anyone who's been there for her in a stressful moment, will recognize the spiral of self-hatred she's known to spin into, suddenly questioning whether she's good enough for anything she has. Imposter Syndrome is strong with this one. However, most of Katie is thoroughly in line with the shell she displays to the world. She's not one for masks or games, and the only lies she tells, are to herself.

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A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Theater Club
• Chess Club

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
English
| W O R S T |
History

Paramount

Jamie Callaghan

_{(FC: Miles Heizer, Dialogue Color: 31ba9c)}
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F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

• James - Technically his real name. Often used by Katie when trying to piss him off.
• Jay - Close friends and family get to use this one. And Cute Boys™.

| | A G E | |

16, January 1st

| | G E N D E R | |

Male

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

Homosexual

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Single

| | O C C U P A T I O N | |

The Golden Gate Gazette is his baby, and he's a stay at home dad.

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Junior

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A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

His father's height and his mother's metabolism, Jamie is the picture of a scrawny white boy with a burgeoning caffeine addiction. Sandy blonde hair is always swept across his forehead in a way that begs to be thought of as natural, but is almost certainly the results of many minutes spent preening in the mirror. Pale blue eyes, almost grey, betray an ever rushing mind, but a charming smile puts to bed any thoughts of manipulation.

When he's not in uniform, Jamie still dresses to kill. Preppy, and often times designer, clothes that scream, "I'm a pretty little rich boy." Which, y'know, he is. Since moving to San Francisco, he's added glasses to his wardrobe, if only to add to the aura that he's smarter than he has any right to be. Despite all the work Jamie puts into his appearance however, he's hardly a standout in the halls. He walks with a measured confidence, a tightrope walker treading a particularly thin wire. His place in the hierarchy is precarious at best, and there's no need to bring unwanted eyes onto himself.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

Since coming to Marble Heights last year, Jamie's made quite the name for himself. "A good listener," some say, "A backstabbing bitch," others whisper. Everybody knows Jamie is driven; he practically went to war to become the editor of The Golden Gate Gazette when his predecessor stepped down unexpectedly. He turned the newspaper club into a real commitment, but no one can deny that the stories have been better since he took over. Some, however, have begun to piece together that Jamie's lips might not be as tightly sealed as he once led people to believe. Those on the bottom rungs of Marble Height's ever shifting social hierarchy likely see the Marble Heights Gossip Monger as one of the chosen few, due to his close proximity to all that glitters, and those at the top likely view him as a useful pet. There is one thing everyone can agree on though: If it happened, Jamie Callaghan probably knows about it. If you're lucky, he might even help you keep it under wraps.

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O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

Born to a pair of renowned surgeons in the heart of Beverly Hills, Jamie Callaghan has always had something to prove. When your mom and dad are regularly praised for how good they are at saving lives, well, it leaves one with an inferiority complex. It didn't help matters that his twin sister, Katie, was superb at being the center of attention, but the spotlight never seemed to appeal to Jamie. He was a bookworm as a kid though, still is to this day, and it wasn't long before a love of words became a passion for writing. Childish stories penned in a messy hand, would evolve into essays on why he and Katie should be allowed to have ice cream for breakfast.

By the time they'd reached high school, the chip on Jamie's shoulder had only grown bigger. Beverly Hills High School changed things. Getting to write for the school newspaper was a dream come true for pre-growth spurt Jamie, but he quickly learned one of the lesser discussed facts of journalism. Secrets pay. He leveraged this newfound knowledge to gain a position of popularity among the student body. Sophomore year was the birth of a more confident Jamie, one who'd discovered just how nice it felt to know things other's didn't. He was hot stuff, and he felt like his future was looking bright.

And then, it all blew up.

The wrong cup of tea, spilt to the wrong person, sent Jamie's house of cards tumbling. It didn't take long for him to become a social pariah at BHHS, sinking his future plans. The connections he'd been fostering were destroyed, his reputation sullied, and worst of all, he was getting saddled with the worst stories for the newspaper. So he ran. By January of his sophomore year, Jamie was a new student at Marble Heights Academy.

If only it were so easy to kick old habits. Jamie couldn't find many differences between Marble Heights and BHHS, other than the fact that here, nobody knew his name. Truth be told, that was all he needed. He joined the newspaper club, and by the end of the year would find himself the editor in chief. He used the year to build his connections, and was even able to get the Student Life (read: Gossip) column started up. Some might say Jamie's been stoking the flames for World War 3 at Marble Heights, but you'll never hear him admit it. After all, he's Switzerland baby.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

Somewhere, behind all those walls, there's a human. He's hiding, but he's present. Growing up surrounded by people who's only measure of value was success, Jamie places an irrational amount of importance on his place in society, on his future, but he's not a robot. He's a good friend, witty, clever, and most of the times, reliable. Feelings aren't his strong suit, and you'll hardly ever hear him tell you how much he cares, but it'll show in the way he remembers your coffee order and brings you one just because, or when he shows up to keep you company in the library, cause you've been studying for hours and he knows you need a break. Smart as he is, he sometimes has trouble seeing what's right in front of him, often lost in his own world, the one where he still has everything to prove.

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A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Editor in Chief of The Golden Gate Gazette

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |
English & History
| W O R S T |
Math & Chemistry

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP}

---

TIMOR

_{THE BALL}

mopey, bothered by the GOAT, murder time

---

Timor watched the revelry from the shadows, nursing a glass of water, and his pride. How easily Popmpous Apollo would’ve fallen, had they been away from the prying eyes of mortals. Yet now, Apollo danced across the ballroom, and Timor sat skulking in the dark. He looked up to his father and uncle, and allowed himself, for a moment, to picture the day when their visions were reality; the day when order had conquered chaos, the day when his family stood above the other pantheons in victory, the day when Rome walked again.

Of course, a part of him knew, there would be no place for him or Metus in that world, at least not in the light. He and his brother were beasts of war, mad dogs, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that mad dogs did not make good princes. He might leave fear in his wake for all of eternity, but he would never have a throne. Timor chose to believe this was for the best.

He sensed Metus before he saw him, felt the terror begin to lace through the air, faint, but unmistakable. A black cat prowling through the grass, Timor slipped from his vantage point near the stairs and began moving through the crowd, in search of his brother. He might not be able to send the twin archers into the void, but Metus could at least help him find Artemis’ other little bird. The other girl he’d seen had managed to evade his gaze, but she could only hide for so long.

Timor’s path was suddenly blocked by a boy, or at least, a god in the shape of a boy. Pan looked up at him, smirking, a devil in Dolce. “Looking for someone?” Pan raised his champagne flute to his lips and took a generous swig.

“None of your business, goat.” His words were ice, encasing life as the temperature dropped far below freezing. Timor stared daggers down at the lord of the wilds, but received only a chuckle in response. He clenched his fist and ground his teeth; he wasn’t used to being laughed at.

“Come now, is that any way to speak to your father’s new partner?”

Timor didn’t like the way Pan emphasized his words. He had the sense that he was being toyed with, and it only made him angrier. Pan seemed to take the rage as jest, and laughed again, louder this time, so hard he had to grip his stomach. Finally, he calmed himself, and wiped away tears. “Relax, Killer. I’m here to help,” Pan said.

Timor crossed his arms, the rage receding, if only slightly. “I do not seek help from Grecians.”

Pan smiled. “Of course you don’t. Blood feud and all that.” Pan licked his lips. He was enjoying this. “I just figured, you might like to know, that I saw a girl sitting in the bar, looking much too interested in the various exits and entrances. Almost like she was planning an escape. Does that interest you?”

Timor grunted, unwilling to show any approval in his face, even if that small noise had been enough for Pan to know he’d accomplished his goal. The god of fear surveyed Pan briefly, weighing his words. “Where’s my brother?”

“Now that’s an easy one.” Pan turned, and pointed across the ballroom to where Metus stood, flanked by Cupid and Venus. “Better hurry. There’s spies afoot.” Pan slipped away, as quickly as he’d come, laughing at his own jest. Timor shook his head, but wasted no more time. Pan was right. Perhaps this called for some mad dogs.

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP}

Oh, Beloved.

_{The Ball}

no place for pining!

---

interactions: @icy hotx@smarty0114 collab

“Waiting for someone?”

“For me of course. Lovers like us cannot be kept apart; no lonesome corner or boring book is enough to keep me away forever, my love. How long have you been moping in this corner, Baldr?”

A smile graced the chiseled features of the most beloved, wandering mind pulled back to reality by the jests of his friends. “I was not moping,” Baldr said, though nothing could be further from the truth. It didn’t matter now, though. The arrival of two of his closest confidants on this plane of existence was already raising his spirits.

He swung his own arm around Than’s shoulders. The Greeks and their flirtatious ways had once been a mystery to him, but he’d grown used to them both over the centuries. “I’m surprised you were allowed past the front doors, Than. Has the big man upstairs finally softened to your family?”

Thanatos cracked a smirk at that notion. Far as he was concerned, no one dictated where he was allowed to go, especially not some “King of Gods” that spent his time golfing and playing in the snow.

“The only big man upstairs I take orders from is the Father of my savior Jesus Christ.”

Thanatos was able to hold a straight face for a moment before he was laughing at his own words. Leaving an affectionate pat to Baldr’s chest before pulling out of the embrace, only to secure them two glasses of bubbling gold. Not Thanatos’ choices of drink, but he had a shift to get to after the ball and unfortunately couldn’t get wasted, “Really, I couldn’t get out of attending. My brother’s ‘boyfriend’ is as meddlesome as they come, I imagine the same can be said of your mother. Has she found you a wife yet?”

“Not yet,” Baldr said, swirling the golden liquid in his glass, “and hopefully not-” Baldr’s words faded into the void, stolen by the arrival of Her, pale and cold as the realm she’d once lorded over, as hauntingly beautiful and ageless as the last time they’d met. For a moment, the ballroom fell away, and the only obstacle between them was space.

Space that he could not cross.

The stark realization pushed him back into reality, perhaps too harshly. He tore his eyes from Hel and returned them to Than. “Sorry, I, uh,” Baldr fumbled for the right words, “Did you know that she was coming?” The most beloved suddenly felt smaller than Ratatoskr, a speck among the branches of the World Tree.

Thanatos knew that look on Baldr’s face all too well and could feel the weight of his words on his own chest. To have felt love and to have lost it to means impervious to their godly powers- Thanatos understood, completely. There was a cold glint in his eyes as he stared at the sparkling goddess besides Hel, “Only just moments ago, I didn’t expect Skadi’s meddling to work so quickly. “ Thanatos saw the nod and promptly stepped into the view of Baldr, his back turned towards the two girls and shielding his friend’s hopeless pinning.

A sound of annoyance left Thanatos as he grumbled about having to go through such lengths, “You plan on staring at her from across the room the rest of this miserable existence, Golden Boy? What are you waiting for? The fucking stars to align?” Thanatos huffs with a shake of his head. Seeing his friend squander all of these crafted opportunities to reconnect with the woman that held his heart made quick work of getting under his skin, just as it always had.

“Shut up,” Baldr said, scoffing and playfully shoving his friend. “We’re just friends. Anything else would just complicate things.” Baldr craned his neck to see around Thanatos, but Skadi and Hel had already disappeared. “Anyways, you’re one to talk. Hypnos was looking for you the other day, and since you weren’t with me, I guess I’m just wondering where you could’ve disappeared to?” Baldr had flipped the tables with the effortless charisma that had earned him his reputation. “Don’t tell me you’re harassing me about my love life when you’re out spending days in strange apartments?” Baldr cocked an eyebrow, smirking.

Thanatos chuckled at that idea, ending up in stranger’s beds would have been a much more exciting tale to tell, but unfortunately it was not the truth of his life. He shook his head and turned to face the party again, arms crossed over his chest, “Ah yes, my strange apartment visits when I’m knocking down doors to get to my lover Gertrude who has collapsed and broken her hip from old age, or even more exhilarating Oscar on Main street whose wife called because he was having a heart attack, couldn’t believe that bastard had a wife all this time!” Thanatos clicks his tongue in disbelief, playing the part of a scorned lover just long enough to get his sarcasm through.

“Don’t say I’m harassing you; I can call Skadi over if you’re feeling a little masochistic, B.” Thanatos replied smoothly changing the focus back onto his friend, “I’m just looking out for you, Golden Boy, if Hel is the one you want, go for it, complications be damned. Living forever sucks but at least you’d get to spend it getting laid for once.”

Baldr sipped his champagne and shook his head. Whatever there was between him and Hel, it was delicate. A treasure that was not to be brought out and flaunted in front of everyone, but tucked away, safe from prying eyes and clumsy hands. Fear wrapped it’s frozen tendrils around him at the thought of the eyes that would fall upon them, and the whispers that might spring forth. Their families were destined to tear eachother apart, to plunge the world into darkness. The legends said that he would rise again, after the Aesir and Vanir had leveled Midgard, but they said nothing of a bride.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree. Our fathers are regularly trying to kill each other, and I think my mother would lose her mind if I brought her to meet Loki’s daughter.” Baldr stared down at his champagne, unwilling to admit that none of that would really matter, not so long as he had her. But that’s not what she wants.

Thanatos snorts but doesn’t push the subject any further; there would be another day to try to convince his friend. When he looked up at the crowd again his eyes met Eros’, immediately screwing up into disgust at the wink thrown his way as he flashed him a friendly bird in return. The ball room had shifted, people joining in to dance alongside Apollo. While other smaller groups pressed closer together and claimed the shadowy outskirts of the room, “You know, I’ve been thinking- s’weird that the Romans rounded us all up, don’t you think? Not like I’m one to talk, but they skip every conclave, and then all of a sudden bring us all together? I feel like I’m waiting for a butler to appear and tell us there’s been a murder we have to solve or somethin’.”

“I’ve been wondering about that myself,” Baldr replied. “I don’t remember Jupiter being one for tricks, yet this whole thing reeks of them.” The Aesir looked around the room, spotted his mother and Xolotl entering, clocked Hati, left behind by Odin. Perhaps his father held insight into Jupiter’s plans. He made a note to check in later. “I’m starting to think I should’ve just stayed home tonight. Might’ve been better for my sanity. All these schemes and secrets, it’s like Paris all over again,” he said, recalling the court intrigue that had plagued so many of his fellow gods.

“Paris, London, DC, the Conclave two weeks ago— it’s always one thing or another with them. If it weren’t so exhausting it would be entertaining.” Thanatos replied with a sour chuckle, “But I-“

“Hate all the gods and how arrogant they are? Toasty, haven’t you complained enough to poor Baldr for a good lifetime or two?” Skadi interjected, seemingly materializing beside her favorite Norse man, slinking her arm through his, “You know it’s far too early in both of your lives to be sulking and gossiping during a social gathering. Beloved, why don’t we leave the King of Melancholy to brood by himself and go have some fun, unless you want to third wheel and not bring us down, Toast?” Skadi bat her full lashes at Thanatos, donning her perfect pout as mischief twinkled in her eyes.

“Like I’d be the third wheel, didn’t you say he was my boyfriend earlier?” Thanatos scoffed, flicking his finger roughly against Skadi’s nose.

The Most Beloved grinned at Skadi’s return, unbothered by the bickering that quickly resumed between her and Than. “And what exactly does fun mean, here?” Baldr said, smirking. He’d learned the hard way that he’d likely end up going with Skadi no matter what she said, but it still paid to be on your toes. Especially with the ski queen.

“Ah, is this caution I’m hearing, Beloved?” Skadi teased and swung her arm out in a grand gesture, “Anything is more fun than what you’re currently doing, but the bar beckons and then the dance floor, and maybe if you decide to shed the ‘good boy’ persona you’ve been playing something mind blowing later on.” Skadi’s glacier blue eyes turned to Baldr’s giving him a playful wink as her arm slide from his and her hand slipped down to his, she wasn’t letting her efforts go to waste, even if she had to play the long con game, “Is that acceptable for you two?” she asked gently tugging on his hand, as her gaze bounced between Baldr and Thanatos.

Death incarnate rolled his eyes, he could practically hear the meddlesome thoughts bouncing off that empty head of hers, “not like we really have a choice anyways, right?”

Baldr swung an arm around Thantos’ shoulder, pulling him along as he followed Skadi’s lead. “Oh cheer up Than. We’ll try not to drink you under the table this time,” Baldr said, grinning. His eyes swept the pool of swaying bodies in search of Hel, but still, she evaded his sight. He thought to ask Skadi, but caught himself; no reason to give those stories anymore credence.
“Riiight, like either of you know anything about moderation when it comes to alcohol.” Thanatos quipped with a smirk but followed along without resistance. Out of the corner of his eye did a familiar glimpse of a love lost catch his attention. Thanatos pulled away from the “party train” momentarily as he looked around wide eyed, but no priestess filled his view, and he let out a chuckle, popping a few buttons on his shirt as he rejoined his friends.

“Alright, give me your worst.”

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP}

---

PAN

_{THE BALL}

casually hating mortals again, lusting for that d, ready for the show

---

“I understand your urgency, Mr. Oakley, but the Vice-Mayor is just not comfortable making any big decisions until-”

“Of course, Mr. Vaughn. The silky smooth tones of Pan's voice slipped in amongst Mr. Vaughn's nervous words, stealing his thunder before he knew he had it. "Honestly, that seems so formal, I’ve been on the phone with you every day the past two weeks, trying and trying to get a meeting scheduled, and so, I feel, like maybe we’re on a first name basis. Am I right, Jerry?” Pan’s back and forths with the mayor's office had grown increasingly vexing. Had it occurred to them that their precious mayor had gone and gotten himself killed?

Stunned silence gripped the other end of the line. Jerry Vaugn may have been realizing that, although Peter Oakley was right about how many times they’d spoken in the past two weeks, he’d never handed out his first name. That morsel of information had been dug up, easily enough by Pan, among more personal details. If he was smart enough to figure grasp any of that, Pan never let him seize the victory.

“Look, Jerry, I like you. So I’ll be straight forward. I’m starting to feel, like mayyyyyyybe, the Vice-Mayor is avoiding me. Is that right, Jerry?” Pan’s words had an unmistakable edge to them, a tenor that grated against the nerves and screamed out ‘Danger!’

“No, no, no, of course not sir. It’s just, well, like I said, with the current uncertainty-”

“Jerry. The mayor has been missing for damn near three weeks. I’m not sure how much true crime you watch, but most disappearances turn into homicides after forty eight hours. Tell the Vice-Mayor I’ll be stopping by tomorrow, to discuss the deal I’d been working on with his predecessor.”

Jerry’s response was cut off by Pan’s thumb against the glass screen of his phone as he rolled his head back, groaning at the stupidity of mortals. He was trying to save them, couldn’t they see that? In the world of business however, good intentions were few and far between. How much easier this would be if they understood a currency other than money.

A text from Mars sent vibrations coursing through his phone and up his forearm. The message brought a smile to his face, lifting the burden of anger from his shoulders. He took a picture of his suit and sent it along with a message to tease his god of war.

To: Sir
Does this answer your question?

The weeks following the Conclave had found him starting most mornings in Mars’ arms, basking in the memories of the previous night. He didn’t know what to call their dalliances, their sudden entanglement, but he knew he didn’t want it to end. Where it might lead was known only to the Fates, but wasn’t that half the fun?

The thought of Mars was the only thing keeping him from telling the driver to change course and head for home. Well, Mars, and the distinct possibility that this night would go up in flames sooner, rather than later. If the guest list was to be believed, he wouldn’t be surprised if the night ended with a dead mortal and an investigation on behalf of the SPD. He couldn’t miss that, now could he?

As his limo approached the venue, the quiet he’d grown accustomed to faded, replaced by the slamming of car doors and the shouts of reporters. As his ride slowed to a halt in front of the entrance, Peter Oakley stepped out, smiling for the cameras. Modern architecture loomed above him, a ghastly beast of concrete and glass. Disgusting. Did the mortals realize they were dancing on a grave tonight?

“Mr. Oakley! Could you give a statement on your company’s new relationship with Triarri Corp? Do you think their history with fossil fuels weakens your company’s core values?” A reporter called out, notepad in hand.

Ever the charmer, Pan’s smile never faltered, even as his blood boiled. What did this mewling child know about his core values, about what he had done for the earth? He had spilled blood for these forests, gone to war for the plains. What had this boy done? Bought reusable grocery bags?

“If we seek to bring about the future, we’ll need all the help we can get. My partnership with Mr. Salvius is built on the foundation of transitioning Triarri Corp into a future that is powered by green energy. If anything, I think this move is representative of our core values. We don’t want to push out the companies that have helped build this world, but to change them, bring them into the new world. Hopefully Seattle is just as welcoming to that sentiment.” Pan punctuated his brief monologue with a curt nod, offering the cameras a few more angles before breaking for the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he was away from the vultures that circled outside. He spotted Venus and Cupid, engaged in conversation. From the shadows came Timor, wreathed in fear and loathing, followed shortly thereafter by one of Artemis’ Maidens, and then, the Sun and Moon themselves. Interesting. Artemis was bold to bring her spies out tonight, but he couldn’t say he was terribly surprised, or unhappy. Any info she gathered could be made of use to him, one way or another.

After a moment’s searching, he found Mars, standing next to Jupiter and looking down over the party. He had half a mind to interrupt whatever words they were sharing, but he kept himself restrained. There’d be time for his Roman tonight. Wearing a smile that only hinted at the devilish creature that lay beneath his youthful features, Pan grabbed a drink, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

---

mentions: Mars, via text @Gothelk

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP}

---

_{THE BALL}

all was golden in the sky, all was golden when the day met the night

---

The garden behind the venue was well lit, and still devoid of most mortals. As the sun’s rays faded from view, Artemis gazed down at the city, from her vantage point behind a sculpted stone railing, and sighed. She had toiled after this wretched rock for centuries, and still, she was hardly any closer than when she’d begun. Could she truly be called the Mistress of the Hunt? Perhaps not…

The sun had set just moments ago, and already, it rose behind her, a singsong greeting piercing her thoughts. “You knoooow, if you missed me that much, you could’ve just come for a visit? You know where I live.”

Artemis turned and rolled her eyes, placing a pale hand against the fine fabric of his tux and shoving him back. “Personal space, Pollo,” she said, earning a chuckle from her twin. Despite her obvious annoyance, a smirk tugged at the corner of the huntress’ mouth. However much he vexed her, Apollo was one of the few people in this world that understood her, loathe as she might be to admit it. He didn’t need the ego boost.

Apollo, grinning, took a spot next to his sister, leaning against the railing. “Not quite so good as the ones I used to make, just saying.” This time, Artemis laughed. It was usually like this with them. If anyone could chisel away the stone that Artemis lived within, it was Pollo. “How are you Arty? No bullshit, please and thank you.”

Artemis sighed, looking everywhere until she was forced to meet Apollo’s eyes. “How do you think I am, oh great Oracle?” Her brother was many things, but he was not her keeper. If he’d guessed her thoughts, she’d have no choice but to go along with it, but she would not offer him her plans so willingly, as much as she wished she could. If Apollo ever found out what she truly wanted with the Colossus, he would place that chisel through her heart, of this she was certain.

“Low blow,” Apollo said, miming a wound to his heart with all the melodrama befitting a god of the arts. Artemis’ scoff was all the applause he required, and he quickly regained his composure, nudging his sister playfully. “I think, you’re tearing yourself up trying to find out who killed Hephaestus, because you can’t stand not having all the answers. Am I right?”

“It’s more than that Pollo, and you reducing it to something so trivial is foolish,” Arty replied, her mood quickly shifting. “Someone has a god killer, don’t you see why that might be something we should try and control? Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“Why do you think I want you to drop it!” Apollo hissed. Artemis might’ve seen the two as being on opposing sides, but Apollo never seemed to. Selfish as he could be, he wanted his sister safe. “You’re not invincible. Is it so hard to believe that I don’t want you to get hurt. Let Ares deal with this, you don’t need to be involved.”

“Oh, yes, because Ares ending up with a god killer is so much better!” Artemis threw her hands up in exasperation, a laugh brought on by the derangement of anger breaking through her lips.

Apollo’s retort was cut off by a muffled shout behind them, followed by the doors they’d come through shuddering. Concern replaced anger on both of their faces, and the two shared a look that said, ‘I’m not done, but this is much more troubling.’ In unison, the two tore open the doors, and Timor and Thalia came tumbling outside, Timor falling on top of the Maiden, hands clutching her wrists.

“Who sent you?” Timor hissed, only to be met by a swift kick to the side from Artemis.

“Get off of her, Dog. She’s mine,” Artemis said. Her words were thick with authority, a mother bear who’d caught a predator trying to make a meal out of her cubs. Timor grunted, growled, and stood to face her. He managed to take a step forward before Apollo spun him around.

“Hey, Sweeney Todd, this is not the place. Why don’t you go tell your daddy we say hello, okay?” Apollo said, smarmy as ever. Timor clenched and unclenched his fists, steely gaze boring into Apollo, surely imagining all the terrible things Metus would do to him if he asked. With a chilling grace, he brushed off his suit, and removed Apollo’s hands from his shoulders, before walking inside, gone like he’d never even been there. A shadow in the night
.
“Which one was that? Fear or Terror?” Apollo said, eyes trained on the doorway. The scene might be new, but this situation wasn’t all that strange. The twins had been quite the team in a fight. Having each other's backs was second nature.

“Fear. Timor. Mars and Venus’, and apparently he’s the nicer one.” Artemis said as she helped Thalia to her feet.

“Fucking Romans.”

Artemis focused now, on the girl in front of her. She was shaking, ever so slightly, but when Artemis brought a hand to her shoulder, Thalia pushed it away. “I’m fine, my lady. I can go back inside, if you want.”

“No. Go back to the car, Thalia. You’re done for the night.” Sympathy had left Artemis. She had a whole night left to get through, and Timor had already exposed one of her little birds. She didn’t have time to waste on Thalia’s ego.

“But-”

“Go. Now.”

Thalia didn’t hazard another word, and instead turned on her heel, slipping back into the ballroom, and presumably, back out to the limo in which she’d arrived. Once she was gone, Apollo turned to face Artemis, grinning despite the recent tension. “Gods, that was exciting! We never get to do fun shit like that anymore.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. If she kept speaking with Apollo, she was liable to lose them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was a fucking mess.” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, pacing back and forth. “If I’d known that Mars would’ve brought his hounds I’d have left the girls at home.”

“Oh look on the bright side, Arty. I think I agree with you now.”

Artemis chuckled at that. “I’m not surprised. You usually get there, eventually.”

It was Apollo’s turn to roll his eyes. “And they say I’m arrogant.”

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP}

---

TIMOR

_{DOWNTOWN → THE PAD → THE BALL}

pensive, intrigued, calculating

---

In Seattle, once the sun went down, fear ran through the streets like rain through a gutter. Everywhere Timor walked, the smell enveloped him, invigorated him. Every breath he took brought the taste of it to his tongue. A woman across the street was unnerved by his smile, and a man in the nearby park was beginning to worry about what the gathering clouds might do to his tent. A child in an apartment he passed was watching a scary movie past his bedtime, and a young woman passing through an alley was clutching her keys between her knuckles, jumping at every shadow.

He shouldn’t be here, roaming the city, but he couldn’t help himself. A night surrounded by gods and rich, prattling mortals would not quench his thirst. The wealthy had fears, but none quite so sweet as those who’d been swept under society’s rug. And the gods? Well, fear ran off them the same as anyone else, perhaps better than some mortals. The deepest darkest secret of any god, is that they’re just as afraid as mortals. Timor’s hatred of the other pantheons stemmed less from a distaste for watching them squirm, and more so from a lack of patience for those divine beings who’d stood against Rome. Some were simply less worthy than others.

The apartment he shared with Metus was on the edge of the nicer parts of Seattle, where the haves were forced to look at the have-nots who’d been sacrificed in their scramble to the top. It was a nice place, surrounded by neighbors who’d describe the Salvius brothers as ‘good people’ and ‘hardworking boys.’ Timor let himself into a dark living room, and was greeted by a bolt of fur and a sudden series of loud, deep, barks.

“Crowley, sit.” Timor said, his voice monotone, yet commanding. In the dark, he could see the shape of a pit bull, face marked by a few old scars, plop down, tongue lolling out to say hello. He crouched down, bringing a hand up to pet Crowley, smiling softly as the dog lunged towards him in greeting.

After a moment with Crowley, Timor rose, and strode confidently through the darkened room to his own bedroom. Calloused fingers found purchase on a lightswitch and suddenly, the room was bathed in scarlet light, casting long shadows across the floor. Vintage horror movie posters covered the walls, and a desk across from his bed was cluttered with books, paperback spines intermixed with leather bound tomes. The tone of the room might’ve been off putting to most, but to Timor, it was comforting. The select few mortals who managed to find their way home with him often found it intriguing, though if they were spending the night with Timor, they were likely already intrigued by all that was strange and taboo.

His suit was hanging behind the door, freshly pressed this morning for the occasion. He might not have been looking forward to the event, but he’d been requested and that meant he’d be prepared. Crowley sat quietly on his bed while he changed and looked himself over in the mirror. He was gone as quickly as he’d come, a shadow in the night.

Flashy as his car might’ve been, Timor pulled out of his parking lot and onto the street with restraint. Power didn’t tempt him like it did others. The engine purred as he drove down the street, winding through the streets of Seattle. When he finally arrived at the venue, he parked his own car, and slipped in through the service entrance. Cameras held no allure for the god of fear, and he preferred to enter with a bit less conspicuity.

Italian leather slapped against white linoleum as Timor found his way to the ballroom, eyes quickly scanning for his fellow deities. He saw Baldr, watching the entrance, and Athena joining the fray. His mother stood off to the side, whispering in the ear of Greece’s huntress. He watched as they tried to hide their intimacy, but it was clear to see the dance they were doing. Mother, what are you doing?

Timor kept still though. Any judgements he had were not for him to speak. His mother knew what she was doing, even if he did not. Standing still, Timor found it easy to fade from view. Most mortals simply would prefer not to see him, and when he stood against the wall it was all too easy to overlook the pale, dark haired Salvius boy. On his right, two girls stood, dressed in white gowns, beautiful. They whispered before breaking apart, heading for opposite sides of the room. The same fear wafted off of them, ripe and bursting with flavor. Fear of discovery.

Strange. Like a cat, he moved from the wall, following one of the girls at a distance. Who had come along tonight? Spies in the ballroom? He couldn’t tail the both of them, but he could at least follow one. Every move she made tonight, the sentinel in the shadows would be watching. Nam bonum Roma