Graham Bartholomew Greye

Born September 18th, 1980.

Male.

Asexual, far too much like hard work.

A man of below average height and fairly average looks, you probably wouldn't give Graham a second look. Unless of course you were close enough to smell his unique aroma of nicotine, wine, old paper and mushrooms. Or perhaps you noted his impressive ability to prepare, roll, light and smoke a cigarette all without taking his eyes from whatever book currently has his attention. Or maybe, and this is the most likely reason you looked again, you felt the intense weight of his glare upon you, pouring hatred into your soul for the unforgivable act of bumping into him on the bus, asking for a cigarette, happen to be publicly reading a book he has read or any number of grievous sins. Graham has contempt enough for everyone and disdain to spare.

When he walks, he drags his feet. When he sits, he slouches. When he looks, he glares. Everything Graham does communicates both his disinterest in the current activity and how much he'd rather be elsewhere, reading a book with wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His voice has a hint of irish in it, along with an awful lot of scorn, while his language is a combination of modern english interspersed with ancient, long forgotten words and filthy curse words.

At first look, Graham is a bastard that isn't so much cruel as utterly disinterested in other people. But when one takes the time to look again, more closely... well, he's still pretty much a bastard but one with encyclopaedic of magical lore and mythological canon. Perhaps not a particularly endearing quality but certainly a useful one, at least if you plan to interact with the otherworldy often. Before finding a home at Underwood Investigations, Graham drifted from libraries (no smoking), to cinemas (no drinking), to bookshops (people take the books away...), to a University position (asked to interact with students). None suited him even slightly, fostering a further sense detachment to the 'normal' world and pushing him still further into the paranormal.

In essence, Graham is man who puts his pleasures before all else. He likes to drink, smoke and read, to the exclusion of all other things and all people. Unfortunately, the world requires that he interact with it to make his three joys possible; jobs must be done and money made to pay for drink, smokes and books, not to mention the occasional meal. As it seems that the world's main goal is to stop him doing what he likes doing, Graham has a strained relationship with it. Deep beneath layers of cynicism and id driven liftstyle, he does feel empathy for others but he'll deny it right to the point he has to choose between a person's life and a fine bottle of that La Prousse '85.

✔ Books, old and new. Subject, langue, age and quality irrelevant.
✔ Wine. Good wine, bad wine, it's all the same the next day.
✔ Tobacco, though that's probably more addiction than anything else.

✘ Everything.
✘ Everyone.
✘ Especially you.

Sister, Beverly Greye
Graham's older sister, Beverly, is the success of the family. A noted film director, her face is often plastered across the arts sections of newspapers and magazines, which is perhaps why Graham so often refers to them as 'filthy rags!'. Being the foul smelling black sheep of the family, he has a less than perfect relationship with his sister, though it is entirely his own fault. She has largely been supportive of him and kind whenever they've seen each other as adults but that somehow makes it much, much worse.

Brother, Barrington Greye
The youngest of the three Greye siblings, Barry falls somewhere between Beverley's success and Graham's... let's just call it his 'life'. Barry is a starving artists who has been playing in every sort of band with every sort of instrument for most of his adult life. He's played with or been in most of the nation's biggest groups but always manages to leave and move on just before they get their big break. Still, at least he's doing what he loves.

Anything else.

Bariel

Time was different back then. Say only that it was an age ago.

Genderless, though his physical form would be traditionally considered male.

Asexual, Panromantic

Bariel's mortal form is broad shouldered and well muscled, perhaps representing the martial prowess integral to his person or the strength of faith at the core of his being. His voice is deep and rich, capturing majestic notes of emotion whether he's telling off Graham for leaving his socks in the fridge or patiently explaining why buckets should not be stored on top of doors to Dee for the hundredth time. Bariel favours thick jackets against the British chill but quite fancies his appearance in suits and ties. The Underwood society isn't awash in currency but what little is his, he spends on suits.

Finally, they say the eyes are the doors to the soul. As originally beings of nothing but soul, this is doubly true for angels. Bariel's eyes are amber to brown and have shifting depths of colour and hue. Whatever expression crosses his face is made so much more expressive by the force of his eyes, even more so by the weight of his voice.

Bariel has fought the good fight for a long, long time, since the earth was freshly formed and the fall a recent memory. And through it all, his faith in the divine plan was what allowed him to soldier on through war, tragedy and horror. Whatever came shrieking from the pit, he could be meet in kind with sword and a smile, so long as the plan accounted for the suffering and promised. Even amongst the other Thrones (soldiers in the army of heaven), Bariel was often commended for his unshakable faith, though few realised its true nature.

But in his recent past, something happened to Bariel. An event of such magnitude it shook his faith to the core and shattered his certainty. He left the Third Circle and fled to earth, hiding from friend, foe and perhaps even himself. But the habits of millennia die hard and you can take an angel out of the fight but you can't take the fight out of an angel. So on earth, Bariel has found a new way to guard the light from those who worship evil's might. In battling monsters, he find vindication and an escape from doubt. But when the beast is dead or the creature banished, the doubts still wait for him. Everyday is a struggle, depression and self doubt nipping at his heels as he walks to the office, searching for the next moment of serenity.

In battle, Bariel is calm, collected and utterly fearless. Skill honed by combat unending in the service of the Silver City make him a veritable force of nature. Outside of combat, however... Bariel is cagey and waspish, snapping at anything he perceives as someone poking into his private life or questioning his devotion to good works. Conversely, he is fiercely protective of his colleagues from outsiders, both physically and emotionally. Heaven help the brave man or woman who goes through a messy breakup with one of his friends...

✔ Churches, calm and cool.
✔ Films, sweet and simple.
✔ Fire, fierce and flickering.
✔ Chocolate, nice and naughty.

✘ Debate, doomed and doubtful.
✘ Question, intrusive and irritating.
✘ Books, complex and curious.
✘ Night, lightless and lonesome.

Thuriel
Once also one of the Thrones, Thuriel exiled himself to earth some time before Bariel did likewise. Although he sees the other angel often, Bariel refuses to talk about Thuriel to anyone and asking about him is cause for several days of the silent treatment.

Nothing, yet.