Greek Mythology Roleplay, y'all

(I kind of took a twist on something, hope thats ok)

Name: Frances Crescente
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Pansexual (also Poly)
Shipping: Yeah
Appearance: Silken hair the colour of coffee reaching just below her waist, that falls in thick waves, like the ocean. Warm, caramel coloured skin with rosy undertones, and a sprinkle of freckles. Usually wearing something you'd imagine a poet in Paris to wear; very chic ensembles with a beret or gold jewellery. She has a tattoo of a wishbone on her inner left arm.
Personality: She is a passionate and adventurous soul 'roaming the earth,' looking for meaning in everything she sees, and is deeply connected with nature. Frances is not afraid to show her emotions, and is an admirer of art, in all its forms. Seasons change, and so do I; She feels like she can't stay in one place or be with one person for too long, and is afraid of commitment.
God/Goddess/Demigod?: Goddess, Maia
God(dess) of: Growth. Healing. The In-Between. The road to happiness from sadness, addiction to recovery, evil to good, pain to restoration, friends to family, strangers to lovers. Everything progressive in life that takes time and vulnerability is needed to further mankind, and she oversees the 'growing' process.
Weapons: The Executioner's Sword; (only for show and in literature/myths) for when someone has given up on something worth living for. It is depicted to be made out of solid gold, with the inscription; When I Raise This Sword, I Pray This Fallen Soul Everlast's In Solace.
Other: She did a program for high school where she spent each school year in a different country/city, and that's where she found her passion for travel and meeting new people.

(Nice, guys, I love all of them!)

Name: Victor "Vic" Anavian

Age: Looks 19

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bi

Shipping(yeah or nah): Meh. Probably.

Appearance: Vic doesn't look like he's the god of anything. He's about 6'0'', and has pale skin. He can never decide what color his hair should be, and it has gone from black to brown to blonde to red to all sorts of outlandish colors. He has penetrating eyes the color of storm clouds, and he is pretty muscled and fit. He has a tattoo of a dark stream curling up from his wrist to his shoulder. He usually wears jeans and an oil-stained jacket, making his look more like a mechanic than anything else. He's really kinda hot, although no one ever notices, because he usually hangs out with the less good-looking.

Personality: He can be kind of unpredictable, like the wind he stands for. He can be kind and happy and cheerful one moment, then angry and… well, thunderous, the next. He is very loyal, and can act like a cute little puppy, all cuddles and hugs. When he's angry, he doesn't say much, but whoever made him angry he will ignore them with his frosty temper. He doesn't explode with fury, and his temper is as cold and frigid as ice. He has a sly sense of humor, with subtle jokes. He gets really excited about the things he's passionate about, and can talk about them for hours.

God/Goddess/Demigod?: Boreas, god

God(dess) of/Demigod Child of: God of the north wind and winter

Weapons: Like a weird staff-type thing, with a spearpoint at the end, made completely of ice. Also several daggers, poison, his wind(which can get really cold, y'all), and a screwdriver. Why a screwdriver? I dunno. He's Vic. Of course he does.

Other: Vic is actually really interested in machinery. He loves to put things together to see how them all work. He's also a really good skier(naturally), and loves the outdoors.

(Yeah, sure!)

Name: Finn James
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexuality: pan
Shipping(yeah or nah): hell yeah
Appearance: Finn is tall and slim, with black, wavy hair. He has heterochromia, and one eye is gold, one is green. He has long, slim fingers and a straight nose. There is a scar in his left eyebrow, and a few scars scattered around his body. He has a tattoo of a bird on his left shoulder blade, and a tattoo of a wolf head on his right shoulder blade.
Personality: (rough, will be fleshed out more in RP) Finn is…well. He seems to have two personalities. One is young, the teenager, one is ancient, older than anything else. He is usually the teenager, but sometimes the other takes control. They sometimes work together, but not often
God/Goddess/Demigod?: God, Janus
God(dess) of/Demigod Child of: God of beginnings, gates, transitions, duality, doorways, passages, choices, and endings
Weapons: Sword, gun
Other:

(All right, that's everyone! Ready to start?)

(im ready :) also, where does this take place?)

(Ready)

(Ready)

(…All over the world, I think? Maybe with meetings? Where do you guys want to stay?)

(Sure, I like that! Anyone want to start, or should I?)

The sun shone brightly across the sky, although Vic didn't notice. Nor did he notice the birds singing, or the busy, bustling noise of the city, or the yellings of the people for him to get off the roof. He was asleep, the rays of the sun warming him and lighting up his pale skin.

He awoke soon, blinking up at the sun. He groaned and sat up, carefully avoiding the edge of the building. "Stupid sun," he muttered, swiping the sleep from his eyes. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he sent a cool breeze over his forehead before standing and stretching, joints cracking. He moved to the edge of the roof, peering down. No one was in sight, and he jumped off, a wind catching him and setting him down gently on the ground. He shoved his hands in his pockets and bowed his head, walking off.

Frances strolled down the busy marketplace, somewhere in northern Italy, her beige heels clacking against the rough stone-paved road, and her sunkissed hair flowing as if it had a mind of its own.
"Ciao! Francesca!" A jolly woman greeted her from a stand. She grinned, greeting her back and kissing both her cheeks. She made happily small talk with her for a little bit. After all, conversations are what further grew most relationships. Frances wished her a good harvest this summer and continued down the crowded streets, her white dress billowing in the warm wind.

Finn was walking down the street, earbuds in his ears as he hummed, walking quickly. He wasn't heading home quite yet, but he didn't have a destination in mind. Then again, this was New York, which meant that there was always something to see. So long as he stayed away from any gang controlled streets, he would be just fine, and there was always some sort of entertainment. Perhaps he could even head to the park. Though he wasn't sure. He had been there rather a lot recently. But then again, it was nearly time for him to be moving on anyways. He was never content in one place, he had found, and was constantly moving. He had lived in the UK for a long time, only moving here to New York…perhaps a year ago? He wasn't quite sure.

Avery was walking the streets of Cobh, Ireland. The was always so much life and the colored house made the area unique. She had three more months until college started and her she was, miles from home just wondering around Ireland. It wasn't like she lost or anything, no she had a knack for catching onto languages. She just didn't want want to get tied down just yet. She knew what major she was going into and her top three colleges accepted her. Now all Avery had to do is choose one and continued down the path she had planned.

Sighing she was brought of her thoughts by a group of locals she met the day before. "Dia dhuit!" They said to her and she smiled while waving. She greeted them back in their native tongue before they pulled her into a conversation. Avery liked the locals here, they were always so nice to her.

(bump?)

(Kinda not sure what I'm supposed to be doing…)

(sounds good, like randomly?)

Frances wandered down the paved and empty alleyway, weaving through parked scooters and admiring the architecture of the buildings surrounding. Colourful, with their bright, yet faded shades of reds, blues, yellows and greens. It reminded her of an old love, a mere two months ago. Étienne, tired eyes, a hopeless smile, and brilliant colours covering his paint-stained clothes. But that was a lifetime ago, and he had moved on, thankfully.
Frances squinted her eyes at something moving atop of a building, not looking where she walked as she neared it, her heels against the pavement the only sound for miles. Out of sight- a figure grabbed sudden hold of her, covering her mouth with a cloth and dragging her out of the open. She struggled frantically against it- but the assailant's strength was too shocking to fight. Soon, her breath had slowed, and Frances was motionless.
A great ceiling of white and gold greeted her as she awoke, sitting up and jumping to her feet, the echo of her heels meeting the marble floor, returning to her in the endless room of grandness.