VULCAN, Paul Xavier (done)

Paul Xavier Vulcan


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MYNAMEIS: Paul Xavier Vulcan
CALLME:
Lucas Scott- This is the name he's using while attempting to become a god so he doesn't bring attention to the fact that he's alive. Yeah, he stole it from some stupid teenager show.
Bloody Paul- Long story short... he likes blood, lots and lots of blood.
Sarge- Paul was a soldier
ILIKE: girls,
IAM: 168
BORNON: April 19, 1842
SPECIES: Awakened Soul, hungry for the strength of the gods; formerly a demigod unknowingly.

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PLAYEDBY: Paul Walker
HEIGHT: 6’8”
WEIGHT: 235
MYHAIR: Paul has buzzed blond hair; it has ceased to grow since he is now dead. He believe it'll grow again when he's achieve his ultimate goal. Until then, he likes his army cut. However, when his hair is longer, it begins to curl a slight bit.
MYEYES: The image of piercing blue eyes typically cause individuals to role their eyes and express out loud "Really?" but in Paul's case, his eyes are a certain type of blue that have been known to draw people in, and keep them there. They are hidden in a cold and analytical like stare to keep the true emotions that hid underneath the surface. His eyes hold more to them as they are analyzed by another knowing eye. There are layers and layers of guilt and anguish locked in Paul Vulcan’s eyes…. But it’s not for the time he’s wasted in hell.
MYFACE: Paul has a very handsome face with a slightly squared jaw and a strong chin. His cheek bones are slightly high, but it combined to make the rather appealing face. His face seems frozen in a stoic apathy that unnerves the individuals around him at all times. He has the strong face of a soldier that has seen too much and knows all things that man never wants to know.
MYBODY: Known as the long soldier, Paul’s muscular build did not make up for the fact that by all human standards, he is a giant. Though if one saw him in a photograph, he is obviously well propionate—just don’t hurt your neck looking up at him… he expects to grow when he is finally a god… to be to their standards. Though to restate, currently Paul is built like a menacing giant. He isn’t quite the line backer state but he is built like he was once an athlete in his life. He was a soldier and thus his body is toned to be strong and frightful for his adversaries, beyond that, he is very tall which makes him seem all that much bigger.
SPECIAL: If one were to put their hand on Paul’s chest, they would go right through the hole on the right side where the minie ball went crashing through his chest and tore out one of his lungs. He expects that this will not change while he’s roaming to become a god. He fears that those who touch him will realize this deformity and therefore stuffs the hole whenever he’s going to meet someone. His hands are also noticeably scarred on the tops and even appear to be occasionally coved in soot.

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ILOVE:
BLOOD- Some people are hemaphobia—Paul is a Hemafanatic. He has a sick obsession with blood and seeing the dark red liquid running down someone’s body. He has an innate tendency to simple cut someone to see them bleed. He was known for torturing his victim, a trait that would descend into his children and great grandchild—such as Anthony Vulcan, who resembled him greatly
RED- This is partially the explanation for his obsession with blood. He enjoys anything red. His journal as a child was red, his quilt was red, he tried his best to keep around the red things in his life and in death, he has done the same. He can be seen clinging to a red cloth that they buried him with at all times.
MARKS- There is something about physical scars that pleases Paul, there is a certain amount of pride that can be showed when someone shows up with battle scars on their bodies. He has less respect for those who come unscathed through a battle. The lack of scarring tells him that they didn’t get into their fight well enough, after all, there aren’t many gods in the world—well at least that he knows of.
BLADES- To Paul, the knife or the sword is more honorable then the gun—maybe it’s that bullet that killed him or maybe that’s what his mind always siade, but when it comes to a fight, Paul would pick a knife fight any day.
FIGHTING- He’s violent, and he likes blood. The best way to draw the blood out of someone, punching them in the nose or stabbing them in the gut. He love the thrill of a fight, of course, he knows being dead gives him a bit of an unfair advantage but hey, he doesn’t care.
ARMIES- As a passing memory from life to the undead, Paul still recalls General A.P. Hill and the Confederate army and though they lost the war in the end, the militarism has stuck strong with Paul. He enjoys a well organized militaristic structure within his own divisions and believes that it’s the best way to go around things.
POSITION OF AUTHORITY- Something in Paul has told him that he belongs in the elite. He was raised on a plantation and there it said that he was the master and that was all that mattered. If he can weasel his way to the top, he will do it.
CLASSICAL MUSIC- Perhaps one of the strangest likes that Paul likes. It sort of one of those traditional old guy things but it’s also the first music he ever heard on recording so it holds specific grandeur in his eyes.
CHILDREN- He knows that his children must be long dead and gone these days, but when he was a father, he loved his children and wished that he could have gone home to them after the battle of Gettysburg but someone else had a different plan for him and it involved dying.
SMELL OF A HOME COOKED MEAL- Of course, in the underworld, the smell of cooking could be one of the damned souls roasting away in the next room. There is something appealing to Paul about a truly home cooked meal. He isn’t talking about Yankee food either, he means good down home food that his mom used to make when he was a kid.
IHATE:
BEING DEAD-no body likes being a stiff
WAITING-Impatience should be his middle name. Paul does not like to wait for results. He almost demands them immediately. This probably will be his biggest problem on his journey to Apotheosis.
SLACKERS- He’d like to beat anyone that sits on their ass all day half to death.
BEING STILL He’s a doer, he likes to have constant movement. The only time he wants to be is when he’s dead- oh wait…
MORTALS- He thought he was a mortal at one point in time, but he just doesn’t like them. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t seem to enjoy the presence of them. He sees himself as above them, even when he’s technically below them.
GUSHINESS- Perhaps a little bitter about love after finding out that his wife had been cheating on him all along, but Paul just doesn’t lie the kiss boo, and baby thing… he’s not above it when he’s in love, but he hates it when other people are. He rather bore a spoon into his forehead then sit through it.
HOLE- QUIT GIGGLING! He’s talking about the hole in his chest. He doesn’t like having to stuff the thing so that he doesn’t seem bizarre when he goes out into public… then again, there is the hand through the chest magic trick…. Still, he dislikes it.
HIS PSEUDO-FATHER- Stephen Gabriel was a cruel man… he deserved to die… but never got his just deserts until Hades got a hold of him.
HIDING-He grows tired of hiding his hands in his pockets, of stuffing his chest, of being… undead in a world of mortals. He just wants to be able to take his place without questions.
SKINHEADS- He resents the belief that most southerners are skinheads and racists. After all, they all bleed the same color red.
DONTTELL:
-He’s a Roman god’s son.
-He’s dead! (to mortals),
-Paul is afraid to fall in love because of his cheating wife
-hole in the chest.
-does not know where he is buried
SCAREDOF:
-finding his tomb
-dying twice
-failing
WANTTO:
-become god
-enjoy a new life
-see if he can get the bloody hole out of his chest!
STRENGTHS: \
-Dependable
-loyal
-Intelligent
-Adventurous
-Athletic
WEAKNESSES:
-Paul is a psychopath;
-he can be irrationally violent;
-he bluntly refuses to change his ways for society;
-He does have compassion if the woman reminds him of his mother;
-He is typically apathetic
TALENTS:
VIOLIN- Not the fiddle, he plays the violin, classical. He doesn’t play it often in hell of course….
FIGHTING- Served in the war, one would hope that the boy could fight to some extent, even if that fighting was just a bit off of what most would consider fighting these days. Paul was an excellent fighter in life and in death, he’s really only had time to learn to fight for his survival in the underworld. He’s getting particularly good at the foreign styles that he was not able to get in the US during the 1860s.
KNIFE MAKING- Blame his father, Paul can make one hell of a blade out of steel. Being the child of the god of beneficial and hindering fire; one would think that making a blade would be very very easy and to Paul it is… he is always surprised that people have problems with smithery.
ACTING- This is a rather unknown fact about Paul, he’s very good at pretending his someone that he’s not—thus.. acting! He isn’t awkward in speech nor seem arrogant when he is being someone he’s not. This makes an excellent way to conceal his identity
WELDING This is fairly new to Paul, but he’s a natural. He can make two pieces of metal come together so smoothly, they’ll look like they’ve been one piece all along.
ABOUTME:
The perfect soldier is how they always described Paul Vulcan. He has the intelligent to follow and carry out order but also the wit to communicate important information to the higher commanders. He’s also a very stubborn man, willing to die for his cause—actually he’s more likely to KILL for his cause than actually dying. As long as he feels very strongly about it, he will do anything to see that orders and ideals are carried through. He is very comfortable with killing; so having to do this never much bothers him when it comes to being a soldier. He has a policy about letting people get in the way—basically if you get in the way, you may lose an arm and if you don’t like that, then tough. To add to this notion, Paul seems to keep himself very apathetic, but he is very capable of emotions and when he feels them he feels them strong but his surface never shows the peak of interest that his mind truly feels. He seems to be a very cold individual, both physically and emotionally and most people never get passed that icy exterior.

It is a strange sort of oxymoron within Paul, he is loyal to his cause, but loyal to one person first- himself. The mystery begins with that simple definition. No one knows where he lies anymore, formerly being the most loyal individual that one could ever have in their cabinet or advisory board, he is now a confusing mix between being loyal and a traitor of his old cause. One can find comfort in his cold front as the complexity that hide beneath the hardened surface would cause any sane individual great madness just trying to define the man behind the name Paul Vulcan. Though, surprising, beyond his cold front, he has a somewhat of a sense of humor, something that most people would be surprised to find out about Mr. Vulcan. However, there is even more mystery to him and some of that lies in his past; Paul is what you would call the traditional Southern gentlemen, holding the door for a lady, taking his hat off in the house, saying yes ma’am and no sir, without a single blinking second. He also has a bit of hospitality that can be eerily inviting though most believe that this cannot be trusted. He believe generally in his own gentlemen hood and believes that a man should never lay a hand on a lady.
However, his personal belief is to let no one get in the way… and if that means someone has to die so his path is clear… so be it.

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BORNIN: Clarke, Georgia, USA
LIVING IN: Hell, Underworld, The Center of the Earth
MOTHER: DELILAH GABRIEL [NEE XAVIER]-she was a good soul to a boy who probably didn’t really deserve it. In the end her own husband killed her in 1852
FATHER: VULCAN- Couldn’t pick him out in a crowd never met him, probably never will
SIBLINGS: Caeculus, his father’s son… but he doesn’t know him.
THEKIDS:
AUGUSTUS VULCAN- The first born of twins, Gus was perhaps his most adored child, being the first one that Paul actually saw. Besides that, Gus was the male heir to the family fortune, even if the family wasn’t theirs. Gus eventually followed in his father’s footsteps and became a soldier, but was killed during the Spanish-American War
AARON VULCAN- Aaron was the second of the twins, and Paul loved him almost as much as Gus, Aaron was very little when Paul left and when Paul would return, it seemed Aaron didn’t have much of a bond with him. Aaron did serve in the Spanish American war, but he did not get killed
MARSHA VULCAN- This was the one child that was lost in childhood at the age of four, Paul was not around at that time and does not know what happened, just that he saw her momentarily before she was sent to the heavens for the fine soul that she was.
DELILAH VULCAN- Delilah was the last child, and the one that lived the longest. She however, did not have any children.
IMPORTANTPEEPS:
GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT GRANDSON- Anthony Vulcan; deceased- looked like a carbon copy of Paul himself
GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT GRANDDAUGHTER- Azrael Vulcan; demi-god, thirteen
OTHERHALF: NONE, his wife was cheating the bitch
THEPETS: None
GOODMEMORY:
He couldn't fight him. This was going to be so interesting. Paul strapped the elderly slave down to the table and took out the saw and began to explore. He didn't know that he could see so much red in his entire life. He knew that he would get thrashed for this later but for the moment, it didn't really matter to him. He knew the fun would end soon, he had the light on and someone would want to see the doc. He didn't want to get beaten so he turned off the light quickly. Paul had been scared when he yanked the body off the table and it unceremoniously fell in half, like a magician had worked his magic or something like that. Paul pulled the body back together and ran for it with it, finding a spot behind the old tavern after blowing out the light. He had to think back to his grandfather's funeral to get anything out of this burial.. the fun wouldn't start until the next day.
BADMEMORY:
His best laid plan had not worked, Stephen had taken roll call on his slaves. Paul didn't like Stephen, even if he was his father. He didn't like him. He didn't like him either, which was a reason why the two couldn't like one another. He came in half drunk with his shot gun in hand. Paul didn't like that so he scurried to the corner with the speed of a jack rabbit. His heart was pounding in his chest. His parents started to yell at one another. Did he just accuse his mother of being an abolitionist! That dirty rotten mouth skunk! Not his mother! No never- CRACK

The butt of the gun hit his mother in the mouth. Paul was dumbfounded. The liquid that he couldn't see enough last night was now pouring out of his mother's mouth. He felt his dry tear ducts begin to moisten, his stomach churned, he was close to vomiting. Stephen threw the shotgun to the floor and started to use his hands, one, two, three, four, five, a scream, six, seven- she stopped moving. Paul looked up at his father and then at his mother. He felt the unfamiliar tears rolling down his face now... how dare he! Paul jumped forward and struck his father... to no avail the plump older man grabbed his son's wrist and threw him into his room... Paul could do nothing more from there.
HISTORY: During a dark era in American history, the heir to the Gabriel fortune and plantation, Paul Xavier was born to a loving mother named Delilah and a pompous father named Stephen—or at least, that’s what they always told Paul. Delilah was from Italy, and met a young blacksmith—or as the Roman people knew their god, Vulcan. Later in life, his greek counterpart, Hephaestus, would impregnate Paul’s great-great-great-great granddaughter, who by then had the roman blood diluted out of her system. Paul was born in a time in the US when the economy of the southern United States was made up greatly of farm with the main crop being cotton. Being born and raised in Georgia with a vast fortune from their cropping business and trading deals, Paul’s family naturally had a great deal of slaves who were terribly mistreated by Paul’s father. Paul was taught to beat them as any boy who would inherit the farm and have to keep his slave in line would during childhood. A ‘sheltered childhood’ was never an option for the young boy; Stephen spent much of his time drunk and physically would take his aggression out on the slaves he owned. In his youth, Paul bared witness to many acts of great violence, all that were justified with the right of a man to his property. Watching his father perform such acts on his slave made Paul more attracted to the idea of forcing someone into submission through brute force, he sought such actions out personally and often aided his father in beating the slaves to win Stephen’s approval and learn the ropes. In the twenty-first century, the actions taken by Paul and his father would be labeled almost sociopathic and both would be labeled as threats to society; however, Paul’s actions were far more pronounced than Stephen as Paul did not cringe at the screaming of any man, even those who were white skinned.

In the words of a dear friend of Mr. Gabriel, there was something that wasn’t quite about Paul; he wasn't right in the head. The boy was very young when he began to find his crimson lust. His fondness for violence came when he realized that through the act of mercilessly beating someone he could achieve the color that he insanely wanted to see, the dark red color of blood. Stephen Gabriel, utterly aware of his son's obvious psychosis, wanted to have Paul sent away to an institution where he could be locked away as the family's dark secret but Delilah would not allow it. She found favor in Paul's eyes as she defended Paul's undeniable right to live in his own home with his family. After Stephen back down from sending away their child, she began to purposely buy the boy things that were red, particularly blankets that he would keep with him until the color had faded and the fabric was torn. Stephen did not like that she was promoting his obsession, but did not dare cross her.

Paul first killed a man long before he was a soldier. At ten, an elderly slave the belonged to Paul’s father collapsed in the fields. Paul had been taught to punish the slaves when they collapsed or refused to work. Today, there was a particular curiosity about the boy that could only be fulfilled through a trip to the now closed doctor’s office. The haggard slave could not fight the young and strong southern boy from taking him away; his exhaustion and illness made him a prime subject for Paul.

The young plantation heir brought the slave into the doctor's office, breaking in through the back as he had gone through before delivering honey to the doctor from his mother to keep him from being submitted to the same boring thing every day. He found the operation room and shut and locked the door. He laid the sickly man on the gurney and went to find the doctors equipment. The process was long and probably very painful for the victim. There was enough light for the demented Paul to see the parts of the body, and the slave never even screamed, afraid that if he did, he would get a worse punishment from the boy's father. Once satisfied with what he’d done, Paul took and disposed of the deceased body, he snuck out behind the local tavern, where the drunks could have noticed him but no one would have believed them and dug the hole just as the grave keeper had done for his grandfather's funeral, eight feet long six feet deep, the heavy traffic behind the tavern would make up for the lack of grass. Paul washed his hands clean and returned home without question from his parents.

Trouble began when the doctor arrived to the bloody mess in his office, the operating table and saw were covered in blood from an unknown source. The sheriff and all of the towns’ men were never able to track down the person who had caused the mess, as forensics at this time was near none existent. There was no body to be spoken of and even if they found the mangled corpse they wouldn't have done anymore but acknowledged it. Stephen discovered that his slave was missing early that morning when he did a count on them. Looking for a scapegoat on his wife to get rid of her anyhow, he blamed her for the missing slave, accusing her of helping with the Underground Railroad and with Paul sitting only a bit away brutally beat her until she was dead. The towns people turned their cheek to it because Mr. Gabriel was such a high figure in their society and if she had been accused and found guilty, someone would have done it anyway. Paul, who adored his mother, found a new enemy in his father. From that day forward, they would never see eye to eye. At eighteen, Paul married and moved from his father’s house with his wife, he did not know if he loved her, but he knew that he connected with her enough to have two sons and two daughters.

In 1861, when Paul was almost 20, after the acts of both the Union and Confederacy, the American Civil War broke out. To get away from his father, and be a loyal Georgian, Paul joined the Confederate Army and served under General A.P Hill. Truthfully, he held no position on the issue of Slavery or popular sovereignty for that matter. He just wanted to see the colors of battle. There were two major Paul was at such battles as the Seven Days Battle, Antietam and most importantly, Gettysburg. On July 1, 1863, Paul served under the Rebel flag while standing on the low ground in Gettysburg. On the second day of combat, adorning the rebel uniform; Paul was shot. The agonizing pain of a minie ball piercing through his shoulder sent him to the ground alone, but the fact that he could no longer breathe was worse. One of his lungs had been destroyed by the blast. His death was rather grizzly having not died immediately.

He woke up on the ground—the air was hot around him, but not so hot. The ground below him was rock like, and to most, would be scalding. He looked and saw a figure in a boat waiting for him. He rubbed his eyes and stared almost in alarm. He realized that he couldn’t feel the pain anymore and looked to his shoulder—to his surprise, there was a gaping hole right where the bullet had gone through him, but he was ‘alive’. He jumped up, stuck his hand through it, and tried to make sense of the hole before finally being beckoned to the ship. He found himself floating down the river in silence watching the man at the head of the boat, he was unnerved by the whole situation, a tinge of fire brushed his cheek but did not burn him. He watched for some sign of something from the person at the end, but there was nothing.

Paul found himself in the Fields of Asphodel, dazed and confused. He saw people come and go, unable to hold onto anyone in the pit. He was very confused for a long time what happened until finally, the soul of a historian helped him with the messy details. He had been on the losing side apparently, and he’d died at Gettysburg, which had been the turning point of the civil war. He felt rather depressed for a long time until he found another who could tell him more about himself than he could have ever imagined. He had not been Stephen’s son after all. In fact, his son Augustus discovered this and changed their names to the name of Paul’s true father, Vulcan. Paul did not know that a long line of sons and an eventual granddaughter would lead to another demigod after the blood of the roman god had left their systems. He knew very little about his family in fact, though he wanted to know all that he could about them. Most people refused to talk and those who would didn’t know all that Paul wanted to know. Finally frustrated, Paul demanded to speak with someone who knew what the hell they were talking about… he was lead to Tony. Tony bore the most striking resemblance to him that the world had ever seen. He spoke of a whole new world that Paul had never been able to explore… and then spoke of Apotheosis, something he had been planning to do for his lover—whose name he would not mention. Tony spoke of being able to appeal to Hades to try… but was sent to the field of Punishment when he went to appeal.

Paul sharpened his case, and finally has decided to make his move.

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ALIAS: RJ
HOWYOUFOUNDUS: …. >> uh
OTHERCHARACTERS: none, it’s gonna stay that way guys :/
RP SAMPLE:

Socialization was going to be key in integrating back into normal society. One could no longer hid in their abode without their ‘friends’ drawing them from their elaborate quarters for this and that. The ancient creature had been alone so very long, he’d forgotten how to cope around fellow vampires though he was aware none of these vampires were his true peers though their appearance stated otherwise. There was a coven meeting tonight, and he was half tempted to reply to the pair of twins that the meeting was too late for a man of his age. He knew Audrey would badger him about it, and call him all sorts of trivial names to attempt to degrade him. Nero never thought much about how he would be taunted or even about following the pair of twins. They were a strange pair, but they reminded him of his children whom he missed very much. The vast Metellus family had spread wide, and he knew that most of his children must have been dead by now. If they weren’t than surely they were in Europe. He doubted that the family would have spread here, and besides that, he was sure that names had changed on multiple occasions. He would have to be especially careful about sleeping with younger women, they could be his great grand children—that would be rather disturbing; but he supposed that they would be part vampire or entire sterile. He hadn’t a clue about grandchildren. In retrospect, he really should have kept track of his family. The thought of bedding a relative was repulsive. No, he was certain that there was no Metelluses in the United States besides himself. He supposed that it was a lonely occurrence but it would prevent bedding a relative. What a sickening thought!

He heard someone coming down the hall after staling for as long as he could to arrive fashionably late to the meeting; which he would immediately blame on being senile to break the inevitable tension that would build among the members of the coven over this or that. Nero didn’t hate tension, per say; he just didn’t like to bask in the high strung nerves like some enjoyed. Instead, he’d rather have a group of dangerous individuals having a good laugh. Being able to laugh together would be a sign of trust to him, simply being able to laugh showed Nero that it wasn’t just a title, they were a well oiled machine that were able to fight and relax together without having to constantly be at each other’s throats about this or that. In Nero’s professional opinion, the only pair allowed to bicker were Audrey and Bass and that was simply because they were siblings and thus naturally a team. He was looking for these qualities amongst the members, or else this group was sure to fail. Though he was certain that there was a vampire out there that could strengthen bonds, he knew that none of the individuals down stairs were one of them. Nero made no bones about such things in his mind, if this group looked unpromising; he would have to leave. The arrogance of the twins was already a pill he’d swallowed for the sake of seeing the Volturi get torn to sunder as his old family had in the streets of their own home. The old vampire seethed at the mere thought that those high bastards had done such a thing to a ruling people. He supposed that it was just time for another revolution and the world would have to handle what was to come, whether the new ruling class was the Amsel twins or another. He was well aware that once the vampire race was under new control, stability would be completely uncontrollable for the first few years if not decade; especially in the style that the young Halflings wanted to overthrow a long sitting monarch.

The knowledge that neither of the twins, who held themselves more important than anyone else, would take such things into consideration perturbed the old man. He often found himself finding excused to leave these people when he knew that he had no luck at creating an army; no matter how old or intelligent he happened to be. He did not envy; he simply found it annoying that these children were so consumed with themselves. He was certain that there had been no parenting figure in their lives that had taught them the proper way. He’d seen what happened to those children who were, dare he say, nanny raised? Children benefited from the hard fist of a parent; Apollo sure as hell did, so much so that his father had to be asked before he could marry a girl and leave him forever. Nero simply took in a breath; this was not worth saying that he could be better than the rest of them. He was simply older and being older meant very little; he just knew what the old regime looked like. That was more than enough to tell him that overthrowing the Volturi would be no easy feat perhaps that was what caused him so much strife.

He took in a deep breath and the female twin had come by his door. He assumed it was her way of beckoning him out of the room. She was far above talking directly to him at the moment. She would probably refuse to ask him to remove himself from his room, she was after all the leader and he should follow her direction without a single question. He had half a mind to disobey on the grounds that she should communicate with him, but alas, he supposed he needed to talk with the woman before she went on a fit about his disobedience. He reminded himself that Audrey was weaker than him, but Bass had a power to be reckoned with, but if Nero out lasted him, Bass would wear himself out. The man almost smiled at that, he hoped he never had to use that strategy. He rather liked Bass ambition without his overconfidence. Bass seemed to want to make the world better for the vampire or more so the half vampires, who Nero would have to remind him, would not be there without the aid of a male vampire. Nero supposed that he could muster to produce a half vampire child; a child would be useful for the coven. He did not doubt that a child of his would have an optical power. Yet, the thought of a child soldier were disturbing… he’d consider it more when the world was secured. He wouldn’t have to worry about his feeling being conflicted if the Volturi got a hold of his child. Nero started to strategize in his head again, thinking about the bond of a father and child. He thought about the Volturi and he’d heard rumors that they’d found a woman that would keep their bonds strong, and destroy the bond of others, they needed to find her and kill her. He supposed that was the job for the untraceable boy that Bass had spoken to him about recently. Nero was sure that this was another half vampire; he knew that the others were of a mixed variety. If they found this woman, and killed her, they would be in the best position. Nero simply took satisfaction in the ways that they could do such a thing to those old coots. He knew that they desperately needed a power negater.

The idea that the Volturi would be left without their powers amused Nero greatly, to watch that little witch child squirm as she could not harm the small coven that had sought to over throw them. He would watch the great and arrogant coward Aro burn for his crimes against the vampire race. A smirk lit up his deviously handsome face as he shrugged on a blazer over his crisp dress shirt. These thoughts would make the whole coven business very worth the experience. Nero put on his best, including the sunglasses that he loathed to block his eyes from those in the coven. He didn’t care to learn much about them right away and those who made contact would let him know far too much too quickly. He hated the thought of such things. Besides, he knew that Audrey would simply loathe for him to look at her like he was reading a book. He put on his Romanian rings and then headed to the parlor in time to watch Bass’s back disappear down the hall. He tilted his head curiously, though an argument would not surprise the man. He knew that the twins had a tendency to grind each other’s gears frequently. He simply hoped that this would not be something that he had to take a side on. He would detest having to choose, mostly because they were both hot headed and such side taking would be held against him. “Miss Audrey.” The tall Romanian vampire entered the room, his presence attempting to overtake the scenario as his glided effortlessly over the floor. His grace never once faded as he approached her, he took and kissed her hand. “You’re looking lovely tonight with the exception of the annoyance that hangs in your brow.” Though he’d been speaking English since the nineteen-nineties, he still held such a strong accent. He was obviously a born foreigner. He spoke to her in Romanian for a second, calling her the moon of a dark night in her diamonds. His glasses slide down his nose and he gave her a slight gaze in her eyes before shoving them back up before she gave him a sock in the nose. “What has Master Bastion done this time?” Nero would never be as disrespectful as to address the other leader by his nickname. He supposed that was also part of his raising, they did not dishonor those around them by shorting their given name, even if the name was Apollonous. So Nero called him Master Bastion, not because he was his slave, but because that was what men addressed each other as, even when the others didn’t address him as Master Nero. He figured that it was adding to their overconfidence but he’d be damned if he was going to be rude to the coven. He was not in the position to be just calling them by their name unless specifically asked to do so. That was how things were done by the Nero code.

The tall man sat gently in the chair beside Audrey without a word or break of his solemn grace. The man watched the woman behind his dense shades. Once Audrey was ready to rejoin the party, Nero would follow her as the intimidating over figure for every word she said, the only one not to be intimidated by Nero’s presence should have been Bastion. He could find out whatever he wanted about them, once they realized that, it meant that no one would bother him. He would know their weaknesses and with their weaknesses, he held the power to destroy them. With the power of Audrey at his side, he could weed them out. He supposed that’s why he was here after all, to weed out potential threats. “Tell me what’s on your mind?” He asked with a smile.

(no outfit, no fanciness, first Nero post, enjoy the old man)