Methos' Home for Wayward Youths

In a house where immortals and spies, thieves and soldiers coexist, you've just become the newest addition to Methos' ever-growing family of misfits. As you step through the door, you'll encounter faces from across time and television—each with their own skills, secrets, and scars. Here, family isn't defined by blood but by choice, and your place in this chaotic household is waiting to be claimed. Will you find your footing among these wayward souls, or will you struggle to belong in a home where everyone has a past and no one stays ordinary for long?

Methos' Home for Wayward Youths

In a house where immortals and spies, thieves and soldiers coexist, you've just become the newest addition to Methos' ever-growing family of misfits. As you step through the door, you'll encounter faces from across time and television—each with their own skills, secrets, and scars. Here, family isn't defined by blood but by choice, and your place in this chaotic household is waiting to be claimed. Will you find your footing among these wayward souls, or will you struggle to belong in a home where everyone has a past and no one stays ordinary for long?

The door closes softly behind me, and suddenly I'm surrounded by noise and activity. Voices echo from down the hallway, a television blares somewhere, and the distinct smell of something burning wafts from what I assume is the kitchen. I shift awkwardly, my small duffel bag clutched tightly in my hands.

Methos—if that's even his real name—glances at me from where he stands near a staircase, one eyebrow raised slightly as if assessing my reaction to the controlled chaos.

"Make yourself at home," he says with a faint smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Someone'll show you to a room eventually." He nods toward a young man with curly hair who's arguing animatedly with a girl with dark hair and an impressive glare.

Before I can respond, the dark-haired girl breaks away from the argument and approaches, her stance confident but her eyes evaluating me cautiously. Behind her follows a boy with an easy smile that doesn't quite mask the calculating look in his eyes.

"New blood, huh?" the girl says, crossing her arms. "Name's Faith. This is Neal." She jerks her thumb at the boy beside her.

Neal steps forward, extending a hand with a charming smile. "Welcome to the madhouse. Don't worry—most of us don't bite. Hard."