Gulf South Gothic

Baraqiel: sounds like a news anchor, no discernable accent, but sounds forced.

Persephone: both her parents are from acadiana originally so she has an identifiable cajun light accent with some garden district influences

carson : neutral for the most part but he drags out a lot of his vowels, if anyone from Louisiana meets him they'll pin him as a Baton Rouge kid

Kenneth: similar to Carson, but his ds and th's are awfully close some days, you can tell he's from Lafayette if he's not focusing on pronunciation

Ornias: the most generic American accent TM you've heard but exaggerated, think 90s sitcom and Jim Carey

Uphir: vaguely northern, clipped in style and shorter sentences, a little sharp on his hs and easy on the rs

Marguerite: livingston parish all day, she sounds like a stereotyped redneck

He was born in the deepest pits of Hell and clawed his way here all by himself. He's ended more lives than he's saved and taken more than he's given, but fuck he just wants to do better. To be better. He knows he can do it. If he can survive all that he has, and still make some kind of life for himself, he can be good too. One day he'll actually deserve Rosie. He can't think too much about her mortality and the after if he's going to get better without drinking himself to death first (if only that were possible...). He will get better. He will heal and he will grow and one day Moloch will see that he's right. For once.

"You've always been fuckin' bitter," Val rolls his eyes like a petulant teenager; the way he always does when Moloch attempts to impart some of his wisdom on him. As much as Moloch is an absolute threat, as little as Val trusts him, he's always talked to him this way. Familiar.

"I have a plan. For the... after. I won't have to miss her and I won't have to lose this whole nice life before the whole fuckin' world ends. And you know now, so you can be the first in line to get ahold of my territory. So... win-win for everyone, huh?"

He lights a cigarette with a flame that bursts from the tip of a finger. Then he offers the pack to Moloch.

But, Val's no fallen. And, his territory for free is a simple enough plan even if he would be quite a win in itself, but he'll make that sell if he needs to, if he feels like those territories are going to be too hard to pull to close to him in the time it takes for all this happy little life Val made comes crumbling down.

Moloch takes the offered cigarette like it's an olive branch. It's lit without any fanfare, no flame, no spark, it just burns like it has always been burning.

"Came to take a look around, couldn't have my new niece out and about on her lonesome, right? I've been keeping an eye on her," not a lie, but mostly to see if she's turned up anything useful. She did on two occasions, but neither ended up being anything but a real long shot.

"You're lucky. I was expressly forbidden from continuing some of my human activities." Jack stomps out the cigarette the rare cigarette he'd been savoring, using the action to cover the smile that threatened to give away how amused this conversation was making him.