The ability to arch one eyebrow in a withering manner, blushes easily

Pinches his nose when distressed, rubs his chin when thinking

Thaddeus is an insufferable snob with an appreciation for the finer things in life. He was born into money and brought up in relative decadence, which spoiled him to some extent. He is fussy about his wardrobe and appearance and generally very set in his ways, very particular about how things are done, with a place for everything and everything in its place. He is, however, extremely adaptable and has a unique ability to survive with his honor and style in tact. He firmly believes that true class is the result of good breeding and good blood, and knowing he has the best of both is a comforting thought when the chips are down. He can, therefore, continue to have impeccable taste and lordly manners even in the worst of situations. Thaddeus prefers solitude to company, even when the company is good (and calling someone 'good company' is about the highest compliment Thaddeus will pay a person). He doesn't trust people and doesn't trust himself around them; he fears they will lead him into error and so keeps his own council. Thaddeus is generally serious and literal, though his sense of humor seems to come out at unexpected times. He has a morbid streak to match his paranoia and can often be caught thinking overly grave thoughts.

Although Thaddeus has a rich, tailored wardrobe, it is so conservative that one might think he wears about the same thing every day unless they were really paying attention. He prefers black, though gray is acceptable along with very small amounts of color. Thaddeus insists on wearing perfectly neat clothing anywhere he goes, and a spot of mud on his shoes can put him in a cranky mood for the rest of the day. God help anyone who touches his hair; he is particularly vain about that feature. His face is as delicate as his figure, with high, chiseled cheekbones and a nearly dainty chin. The less charitable would describe him as 'pointy'. He would probably be quite handsome in a youthful way if he smiled more often, but his face is typically cold and impassive or wearing a smirk. His gray eyes seem to darken with his moods; when he is deeply angry they are almost black, and when he is especially happy they are a light grey with flecks of blue. Strangers would likely notice his white blond hair before all else, and once you've met Thaddeus he is nearly unmistakable and hard to miss in a crowd. What only the lucky few notice are his hands, which are his most beautiful feature, possibility because he is not aware of their inherent elegance. Thaddeus prefers to wear black leather gloves, as a matter of fact; he doesn't like his hands to get dirty after all. Thaddeus moves his lithe frame with graceful posture and a regal air, though this is occasionally marred by his obvious revulsion for people touching him in a crowd and he tends to become slightly more awkward when taken by surprise.

Thaddeus is not as joyless a person as he appears. He particularly likes familiar things and loves order and structure. He enjoys walking through a structured English garden and quietly thinking. He enjoys books, particularly about the history of his clan, which he takes quite a bit of pride in. An old memoir or artifact of his clan is sure to fascinate and excite him. Although he is able to play the piano, he prefers to listen to someone else play while he rests the back of his head in his hands and sits in his favorite chair. He likes to fence and prefers one on one conversations to large group gatherings.

Thaddeus hates vulgarity, which he defines as anything that offends his high born sensibilities. Filth and noise disgust and bother him greatly. He also avoids most animals and particularly dislikes rodents of any kind. He does not like strangers and especially does not like being touched by people he doesn't know. He is also adverse to noisy public places and avoids new technology, though he's capable of using what's available if it's the best avenue.

If one asked Thaddeus to confess his deepest fears, he would probably say "rats" or "mice", the sight of which are enough to root him to the spot in terror. He fears that he will let down his clan and his creator. Thaddeus is privately insecure about his youth in the vampire world, which is one of the reasons he is so adamant about learning his clan's history. Although he was turned by an Ancient of excellent lineage, he fears he does not measure up to the great vampires of his clan and his creator's memory, and seeks to do whatever he can to live up to her name. He is petrified of losing the world he had to build for himself when he was turned. When he first became a vampire all those years ago, he found his world turned upside down and the life he knew erased. Now, ironically enough, he is terrified of the same thing happening again. The fear that he doesn't dare even think of except in the depths of nightmares is losing "his Mai". Though their friendship is a bit odd in that they don't typically spend long nights in front of the fire chatting, Mai knows Thaddeus better than anyone, and Thaddeus trusts Mai with everything that matters.

Thaddeus is resilient and steadfast in who he is; circumstances change, but blood always outs, after all. He is adamantly loyal and deeply proud of what he considers his family, and this pride gives him strength when faced with adversity. He considers the people he loves to be the best thing about himself. Thaddeus is deeply introspective and thoughtful. Physically he is graceful and talented with fencing. However, he is often so set in his ways that he misses opportunities that might benefit him. He often cannot see past his own clan's way of thinking and is unyieldingly stubborn about his own rightness. He also tends to think a good deal more than he acts, and a fair amount of his thinking is actually worrying. He is paranoid and jumpy around strangers and often insecure.

With Thaddeus's upbringing as a young gentleman, he has a variety of skills at his disposal. These include: Horseback Riding: Thaddeus no longer rides regularly as he once did, but he remembers well enough to get by and not embarrass himself Piano: Thaddeus actually plays rather well, but doesn't particularly enjoy playing; he would rather listen Fencing: Thaddeus enjoys this sport greatly; he believes it is his true talent, the one thing that comes naturally to him, though he puts a good amount of work into it. He fences epee for the most part Manners

Emma, Order of the Night, chose to change Thaddeus for love, murdered

Thaddeus was born to Alexander and Monica Grey in 1689 in London, England. His father frowned at the babe's small size, but as it was unlikely he and his wife would be able to produce another heir, he trusted to hope and made every effort to ensure his son would grow to bring pride and honor to the Grey name. His mother, meanwhile, was so overjoyed to have a son that nothing could persuade her of a single flaw from white blonde head to pearly little toes. Alexander's hopes for his son were not entirely ill founded; while Thaddeus would always be small and thin, and his color never looked quite strong, the boy proved quite precocious as well as almost alarmingly ambitious, traits that would serve him well in life. And if at times he pushed his son too hard, asked too much of him, there was always Monica to dote on him and make everything better. What pleased Alexander most of all, though, was his son's fascination with his family. When Thaddeus went missing, it was nearly a sure bet that he could be found at the heritage tapestry, which portrayed a golden tree filled with doves, the Grey family mascot. On each dove was inscribed a name until every Grey throughout the family's long history was accounted for. Thaddeus would spend hour upon hour looking up at that tree as a traveler studies a map. Thaddeus spent his formative years in The Grey Mansion, his family's main home, though summers were spend at their smaller Manors in various locations around the world. It was at the Bulgarian estate, in his 18th summer in this world, that he met Emma Stannish. She was a lovely young woman, obviously English, and clearly well bred, though Alexander and Monica frowned at her surname when Thaddeus brought it up at the dinner table one evening. Thaddeus did not care about Emma's surname. He knew she was no commoner and no amount of headshaking from his parents could make him believe otherwise. He snuck out every night that summer to meet her in the gazebo on the grounds. Even though every night before they parted she would promise to meet him again, his heart still pounded and he felt a great thrill each time he saw her, looking up at the stars or down at the flowers, and waiting for him the following evening. It became an addiction for him, in a way; that rush of anticipation just before he came upon the gazebo, the overwhelming joy he felt upon seeing Emma at his arrival, the warmth of an evening spent in conversation, the ache of parting before sunrise exposed their innocent mischief. In such a way they grew quite close; Emma seemed charmed by Thaddeus's refined behavior and gentlemanly ways, and Thaddeus was fascinated by Emma's careful thoughtfulness and slow, shy smiles. She spoke of things Thaddeus had never dreamed of; history and far off places, exotic animals she had seen and fascinating people she had met. Their conversations often led back to the subject of immortality. Thaddeus tried to explain that one is immortal when one has an heir to carry out his name, but Emma laughed so hard at this idea that he blushed fiercely and left unusually early that night. However, he thought about what she had said that night over and over throughout the day, until his previous embarrassment was all but forgotten in his eagerness to see her again. That night, they pondered together what it would be like to live forever, and Emma began to show him how that might be possible. For the next two weeks, Thaddeus's life was a haze of the gazebo and Emma and blood and ecstasy that to this day he cannot quite recall in detail. What he remembers most is the dull roar of his own voice, screaming at the sight that met him in the gazebo the night after she gave him "her final gift." The bounty hunter with a fist full of Emma's dark hair in his hands, the stake through her chest, the river of blood that painted the steps of the white gazebo red...those things Thaddeus remembers with all too perfect accuracy. This is how Mai found him: nearly consumed by grief, starved half to death, wild eyed and frightened out of his mind. God only knew how he had managed to escape the hunter and flee to Italy; what Thaddeus remembers of that journey he would prefer to forget. It was Mai who guided Thaddeus to discover his powers, who taught him the ways of the vampire and the hunt, and who brought him into Clan Anantya, Emma's as well as Mai's clan, when he was ready. Thaddeus would never forget that, but more importantly, he would remember forever that Mai had been his friend when he had nothing. When his parents passed away, having long since given up on ever finding their beloved son, it was Mai who sat with Thaddeus during his tearless, silent vigil in front of the heritage tapestry. It was Mai who silently reminded him, even in his grief, that Anantya could be his family now, if he would allow it.