<div class="floatleft">(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/069/c/5/c51bbef67c3be26a440b0c92211132c2-d4sa22b.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Alexander Cornelius von Hohenheim<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Renaissance Seattle Hotel<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>The silver haired young noble of German descent had but recently arrived, having gone about his usual tendency to bring a veritable library of books with him when travelling. He'd not often been to the United States before, usually tending to stay in countries in Europe, though sometimes to North Africa and the Near East. Alexander, whose progenitor in Renaissance times was the famed Paracelsus, was perhaps somewhat obsessive in certain areas of interest, and he rapidly absorbed knowledge both old and new with a veracious mental appetite. Several servants had already been sent ahead, bringing all that was required in his own room at the hotel.<br/><br/>Alexander had little to carry by himself, save an old leatherbound book of inconsiderable volume titled the Hieroglyphic Monad, in one hand, and a long, darkly ornate, ruby-hilted sword cane in the other. His clothing was fine, perhaps what some would consider a little 19th century, with patterns in the clothing accentuating its style. As he took into view the surroundings, his eyes flickered a deep, illuminating crimson for a moment, before returning to a misty grey-blue. Having exited the car merely a few moments earlier, a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith, he advanced smoothly towards the hotel's entrance.<br/><br/>The wind, little more than a breeze, caused Alexander's silky pale hair to flow faintly, briefly, before settling. He carried on, uncaring of such minor distractions as he neared the door, which was closed. A shadowy tendril crept forth, avoiding direct light, and swirling as it seeped into the door. The entrance grew perceptibly darker, veins of obsidian night appearing in a complex pattern across the door, before it opened of its own accord, seemingly. Avoiding the need to pocket his book temporarily, or put down the cane in his right hand, the German stepped into the building, an oddly mysterious element to his gaze as he began to enter.<br/><br/>Fortunate timing, as the PA system thundered an announcement. His mind elsewhere, and paying little attention to what lay directly beyond the entrance, Alexander decided to take a short cut. Darkness blossomed around his form, shimmering and eddying. He seemed to become one with it, melting into the blackness that lay at the corners of the room, travelling through these shadows, moving unseen, rapidly, through rooms, a crack in a room of the second floor. He soon reached the conference room, the inky darkness at a corner of the room drawing itself up, temporarily defying the room's lighting as it took upon a humanoid shape, the cascading shadows vanishing to reveal the German occultist and mage. Cane tapping against the floor, he glanced towards Angelo and Dean, smiling faintly, and taking a seat as they spoke and went through the various factors in play with the current situation, accompanied by the projector.