Nationality: American Language(s): English, Greek, Latin Orientation: Straight
Personality: quiet, clever, forgetful, insomniac, friendly Hair: messy white with a thick purple streak Eyes: very pale lilac Skintone: darkish grey Marking(s): none Tattoo(s): none Piercing(s): none Other: purple streak in his tail
Likes: hugs, reading, Virgil, plushies, pajamas, music Dislikes: insomnia, bright light, being treated like a little kid, soda
Located: Veta Lake Living Quarters: The Devereux Family Mansion Lives With: Tisky & co. Occupation(s): none
A roll of thunder sounded as Tisky opened the door to his room; the thunderstorm outside had swallowed the last traces sunset and destroyed visibility in the unlit third floor of the house. Tired from his day spent taking Ketone out on her monthly trip with him to Delphi Beach and a difficult drive through the rainstorm, Tisky’s entrance into the room was reminiscent of a zombie, dragging himself along.
A startlingly close bolt of lightning struck outside, illuminating everything in the room and casting a shadow version of the room momentarily onto the far wall. The cry which escaped Tisky’s throat as he caught a glimpse of a figure sitting cross-legged, head down in his bed was swallowed by the booming thunder which caused even the windows of the house to rattle a bit. Groping frantically for the light switch on the wall, Tisky could feel the adrenaline already pumping through him.
His fingers found their mark and with a click the overhead light flooded the room with light; he had a moment of realization and was glad his shout hadn’t been heard. The messy white hair with its peculiar thick purple streak, the matching violet plaid pajama pants, and of course the slightly worn velveteen kanis plushie clutched in the thin arms – the figure wasn’t a murderer, thief, or any of the other frightful possibilities which had flashed through Tisky’s head, it was Zee.
“Hey…†Tisky said softly. The head snapped up, its pale purple eyes locking onto his own. “Can’t sleep again?†By this point he knew it was foolish even to ask, but he had grown so accustomed to this routine he did it anyways. Z almost never slept, usually averaging only five hours of slumber a week. Roughly once every two weeks Z would show up in Tisky’s bedroom, seeking company for the night. This duty of staying awake all night had become a regular part of life for the motley family, rotating between Tisky, Abel, Syn, Wastrel, Ketone, Javid, Croissant, Pet, Braxon, Amy, Ounce, Jaykob, Cayeb, and Ponce.
“Nope. But Virgil was keeping me company.†Z hugged the stuffed bunny rabbit close to his chest like a regular eight year old child would hold their favorite plushie. Z was certainly no ordinary eight year old child though; he was extraordinarily clever and was able to learn even the most difficult subjects with ease. Around his fifth birthday he had developed a love of Greek and Roman poetry and prose and, therefore, had taught himself Latin and Greek so he could read the texts in their original form.
Occasionally he would spend his nights reading rather than conversing with the other residents of the house; during these midnight reading sessions he had read the works of Ovid, Virgil, Dante, Horace, Homer, Catullus, Cicero, etc. It was at this point the previously nameless blue, plush bunny began to be called ‘Virgil’ due to Z’s love of the Aeneid.
Tisky sat down on the bed next to Z and, like clockwork, Z automatically lay down on his side still clutching Virgil with his head in Tisky’s lap. Tisky pulled the white t-shirt which, too large for Z, had started slipping down his petite arms back up onto his shoulder. Why won’t he let us just buy him a new shirt..? I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand what goes on in his head, Tisky mused as he ran his fingers through Z’s hair and looked down at the pale eyes which seemed so empty yet so intelligent.
Darkmatter Sheeta
A roll of thunder sounded as Tisky opened the door to his room; the thunderstorm outside had swallowed the last traces sunset and destroyed visibility in the unlit third floor of the house. Tired from his day spent taking Ketone out on her monthly trip with him to Delphi Beach and a difficult drive through the rainstorm, Tisky’s entrance into the room was reminiscent of a zombie, dragging himself along. 
A startlingly close bolt of lightning struck outside, illuminating everything in the room and casting a shadow version of the room momentarily onto the far wall. The cry which escaped Tisky’s throat as he caught a glimpse of a figure sitting cross-legged, head down in his bed was swallowed by the booming thunder which caused even the windows of the house to rattle a bit. Groping frantically for the light switch on the wall, Tisky could feel the adrenaline already pumping through him.
His fingers found their mark and with a click the overhead light flooded the room with light; he had a moment of realization and was glad his shout hadn’t been heard. The messy white hair with its peculiar thick purple streak, the matching violet plaid pajama pants, and of course the slightly worn velveteen kanis plushie clutched in the thin arms – the figure wasn’t a murderer, thief, or any of the other frightful possibilities which had flashed through Tisky’s head, it was Zee. 
“Hey…†Tisky said softly. The head snapped up, its pale purple eyes locking onto his own. “Can’t sleep again?†By this point he knew it was foolish even to ask, but he had grown so accustomed to this routine he did it anyways. Z almost never slept, usually averaging only five hours of slumber a week. Roughly once every two weeks Z would show up in Tisky’s bedroom, seeking company for the night. This duty of staying awake all night had become a regular part of life for the motley family, rotating between Tisky, Abel, Syn, Wastrel, Ketone, Javid, Croissant, Pet, Braxon, Amy, Ounce, Jaykob, Cayeb, and Ponce. 
“Nope. But Virgil was keeping me company.†Z hugged the stuffed bunny rabbit close to his chest like a regular eight year old child would hold their favorite plushie. Z was certainly no ordinary eight year old child though; he was extraordinarily clever and was able to learn even the most difficult subjects with ease. Around his fifth birthday he had developed a love of Greek and Roman poetry and prose and, therefore, had taught himself Latin and Greek so he could read the texts in their original form. 
Occasionally he would spend his nights reading rather than conversing with the other residents of the house; during these midnight reading sessions he had read the works of Ovid, Virgil, Dante, Horace, Homer, Catullus, Cicero, etc. It was at this point the previously nameless blue, plush bunny began to be called ‘Virgil’ due to Z’s love of the Aeneid.
Tisky sat down on the bed next to Z and, like clockwork, Z automatically lay down on his side still clutching Virgil with his head in Tisky’s lap. Tisky pulled the white t-shirt which, too large for Z, had started slipping down his petite arms back up onto his shoulder. Why won’t he let us just buy him a new shirt..? I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand what goes on in his head, Tisky mused as he ran his fingers through Z’s hair and looked down at the pale eyes which seemed so empty yet so intelligent.
