NAME. Grayson Calhoun
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 26 & March 25th, 1997
GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him.
SPECIES. Witch
COVEN. Amaranthus
OCCUPATION. Animal Adoption Agent
FACE CLAIM. Alex Fitzalan
There was always a scandal involved with the Calhoun family. How it escaped and changed over time, however, was a petty rumor throughout the small town that the family lived in. Grayson was born under a crescent moon in Cook County. A town riddled with old mines, with neighbors who knew everything – who couldn’t keep their business to themselves. Whispers spoke about an “old friend from Italy” who had visited the matron of the Calhoun family. Whose five other boys had dark curly hair, and the sixth had sandy blonde. Genetics were strong, but no one else spoke of it, quieted down by the way that drama filled the streets for a moment, and was gone the next.
Grayson’s closest brother was Wade, someone he looked up to as he grew up in a small town that held little anything other than dreams. Grayson was the youngest, rambunctious and curbed by the adventures he had with Wade. Anywhere the older Calhoun went, Grayson followed close behind. Mine shafts that were supposed to be too dangerous for kids were left disturbed as the two would come home with dust on their faces and dirt beneath their fingernails. The local corner shop was always raided by the Calhoun boys, five dark haired and one sandy following close behind. It was idealistic but small, and Grayson was mostly shielded from the issues at home. Wade was intuitive, could see how the bills piled high on the counter as the local newspaper talked down about the closing of mines and the unsustainability of them all.
He was too small to really remember how it all happened. Wade swung a pick axe, and there was darkness. His entire being recoiled at the memory, something he would come to realize later as his magic was desperate to protect him. An abomination from the seventh circle, an entire family nearly wiped out. Wade stood in front of him, and Grayson closed his eyes. He’d look back, wishing that he’d kept his eyes open. Wishing that he’d done something. It was nothing but a day later where a stranger was at their door. Grayson, still a young boy, and Wade, trying his best for a boy who only had a few more years of life over his little brother. The stranger said he was there for Grayson, that he was never really their father’s son. Calhoun wasn’t a befitting last name for him. And with papers and documents to ensure it, Grayson’s father picked him up and took him home to the Amaranthus coven, leaving nothing for Wade behind.
That was the last time Grayson saw his only remaining brother. His father, this stranger, had told him he was a witch. A witch of the oldest blood. Duty, family, and memory were pressed into Grayson. He was taught about their history, too young to have solid roots anywhere else, Amaranthus became more of a home than Cook County ever had. He was told that it was for a reason, that the tragedy and manifestation of an abomination was meant to be. The opportunity for his father to collect him, to remind him that the Amaranthus survived – and Grayson’s magic and memory was proof of that.
Rigorous training became Grayson’s life. Already he was behind, his life with his now deceased family nothing but a stepping stone. He was told to forget about Wade, to focus on the skills that made the Amaranthus stand above all. Grayson had to work harder than those around him, than those who had been born within Rome and lived within the walls of the coven. Those who knew nothing else. Grayson almost pitied them, stuck in the walls of the past, but it was his future. He would find his brother, one day when he was free. It was why when he was marked on his eighteenth birthday, Grayson knew he was finally able to truly be free. An adept in the coven of Amaranthus, Grayson continued to grow his ability and wander the roads of Rome.
Their marks protected them from Pythia, but it also pushed them from another source of power. Grayson had always been no stranger to the macabre; demonic presences had haunted him since he was young – since the last time he’d seen his brother. He was spurred on by the idea that he could control it, that he was adept enough to understand his choice. He was smart, and he was resourceful – his brother had taught him that years and years ago. Perhaps he could find him if he wanted, but the mark was tampered with that stopped him from using blood magic – tampering of his own doing.
It was too much for someone at twenty to handle and get away with. Despite nothing terrible actually happening, he was caught by the sovereign. The Crown bound his tongue with magic, and exiled him from the coven. Now just a witch with some magic, unable to speak about his home in Amaranthus, Grayson left Rome behind. He traveled Europe, eventually getting enough money to return home to Cook County. What he was met with was pointed looks and pity. Wade Calhoun hadn’t been seen in years, and whatever had happened to his brother was beyond what Grayson could find out. It wasn’t until he went back to Europe, empty handed and empty hearted, that word reached him about the fate of the Amaranthus coven. He’d been living in Germany at the time, and he’d hopped on a train to return to Rome. Italy had felt more like a prison, but then again, even his return to Cook County had felt like melted cage bars. He was stuck in an endless cycle, until a hand was reached out.
The Amaranthus could rebuild, the sole survivor unbinding him so he could once again speak the secrets he’d been taught. He would help rebuild the coven, his mistake now just a scar upon his palm. His mark was in place once more, and Grayson stood tall above those who had looked down on him. His father’s grave was still fresh, and Grayson easily stepped over it and into the fray once more.
+ loyal, perseverant, altruistic
– chaotic, stubborn, antisocial
played by lauren. pst. she/her.
