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Sometimes you have to wonder if there is even a line to cross. |
| [Introduction]
This story is about different characters of supernatural powers or not. Its about violence and realtionships. Just people who are struggling emotionally with what to do with themselves. Sometimes instincts interfere and make us rationalize the irrational. The characters can meet each other or not. This is about your own character development. Have fun everyone. Invites wanted. Bio- Name: Age: Personality: Appearance: History: Their type of inner struggle: Rules: 1. Let the swearing commence, but no sex. 2. No killing other people's characters, gore is acceptable, even encouraged. 3. Please add regularly or don't bother joining 4. Have fun!...(or else) |
| Name: Kayla Bridgestone Age: 17 Personality: Quiet, but sarcastic. Easily emotional. She's nice and friendly when called upon but if anyone ever pisses her off their in big trouble. Appearance: Small frame, dirty blonde hair with dull blue eyes and a sad smile. She's normally wearing skirts and is barefoot or wearing only flip flops. She tends to be warm all the time because of what she is so she wears lots of spaghetti straps and stuff like that. Has a strange passion for jewelry. History: Kayla was born into a werewolf pack that was friendly and caring. They went hunting once a month (though she could change anytime on a whim). Her emotions got in the way a lot, triggering her to change at the slightest sign of unhappiness. She got into many fights with her family and even killed humans in her fits. The second time her pack had to hide a body she ran away for their safety and the security of their secret. Their type of inner struggle: Her emotions and struggle to keep herself contained. ~*~ Kayla looked at her nails while she was on her cell phone at a truck stop. This place seemed vacant enough. There were barely any people and there were woods anywhere. Creatures to hunt. But a drifter like her wasn't worried about that now. "Hello?" Kayla took a deep breath and started her speech. "Hello, my name is Cally Wilson with the Los Angeles Times. You have been a past customer of us and we would like to know if you like to renew your subscription to enjoy our new package deal such as the Sunday paper or the..." "No," the voice said firmly and hung up. Kayla frowned. She huffed and turned off her phone. Even though she was a few states away from LA a telemarketer was job that allowed her to see little of her bosses and fellow employees. People to mangle and bite off their limbs LIKE THAT BITCH ON THE PHONE! Kayla took a deep breath. "Easy, easy," she coaxed herself. She turned around and looked at the truckstop where she was at. There were old bearded truckers in plaid and hunting vests staring at her through the window. Kayla looked away and continued down the road into town. She still had enough money in her account to hold her over for a few nights, but being paid by comission as a telemarketer had little benefits. However she did get free long distance. |
| Bio- Name: Rhianna Wind Age: 568 years old Personality: She likes to keep to herself and avoid as much human contact as possible. As a vampire she already has trouble quenching her thrist for blood. But now she is wanted by her own kind. Appearance:Her hair is a black as the night. Her skin is as pale as the moon. She is about five nine and looks to skinny. She has a tattoo of a cresent moon on her right shoulder. History: In vampire lore she is the one who could bring the end of the vampire. She is special:half human and half vampire. She can walk in the sun and live but she can't eat solid food. But she did the unthinnkable. She had an affair with a human and got pregnet. This baby must be destroyed before it reaches the age of 21 or vampires will seek to excist. The legend doesn't say how teh child will destory the vampires only that is shall. But Rhianna love Their type of inner struggle: She is pregent with the child the will end the time of the vampire. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` (I hope that all made sense :( I really do) Rhianna sat in the spiffy two seater BMW, waiting for the light to turn green. The calm music coming through the stereo did nothing to calm her nerves. They would know she was gone by the next evening. Behind her the sun was rising slowly, casting its beautiful rays of light over the land. Colors exploded in the sky. She would hear how someof the vampires would talk about not missing the sun. But Rhianna needed the warmth and light that it cast upon her grey, cold world. The light changed green and off she went. A freak of both worlds on the loose. :) |
| Name: Dustin Chandler Age: 21 Personality: Disdainful, intellectual, cynical, dark, and unforgiving; vicious when provoked; occasionally crass and cutting in his remarks; unpredictable; a good judge of people; slow to trust; quick to manipulate; and a loyal friend once his trust is earned. Appearance: Collar-length dark brown, slightly wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail. Tends to lean towards the "coffee-house grunge" look; courteroy jackets, "statement" shirts, converses and dock martins, etc. History: Dustin discovered he had a talent for music at a fairly young age. Singing, piano, violin, guitar; it all came naturally to him. It wasn't until about the age of ten, however, that he first discovered that his music had a greater effect on people than that of normal musicians; he could make people fall asleep simply by exerting his will as he sang, or cry, or even once---at a charity concert when he was in middle school---donate money. He was careful to keep this ability a secret and, wanting to be more than some kind of freak, worked hard to improve his music rather than just his magic. At the age of 16 he graduated from a gifted high school in Arizona and then travelled across the country to study music at Juilliard. He began to be able to do more impressive things with his music---think a tune and be able to exert control over people, sing to light fires or turn off lights, etc---and those abilities have been growing ever since. He recently graduated and is now trying to decide what to do with his life. Their type of inner struggle: Dustin wishes he were a better musician, rather than merely a mediocre musician with magical abilities. He doesn't believe he's working hard enough toward his goals, or that he's using his full potential. He wants to do something with his life but hasn't the slightest idea what. *~*~* It's hard to sing with a cold. Your vocal chords feel swollen, each note has to be coaxed out through the maze of phlegm and irritation, and even when it emerges it is weaker, tighter, and not as rich as you're accustomed to. Dustin had swallowed nearly 3 glasses of tea with lemon, but they'd done little to help his voice. His audition for the musical "Sweeney Todd" was in only an hour, and his voice simply wouldn't obey him. But he'd be damned if he'd skip the audition. He'd worked too long on this audition---hell, too long toward this DREAM---to simply give it up now on account of a cold. Especially since he didn't necessarily HAVE to rely only upon his vocal talents to get into the show. No, he wouldn't do that. He wanted the first show he got into to be because of his own merits, and not because of his freaky powers. Even if he only got cast as a chorus member, or... even if he didn't get cast at all. He wanted it to be because of his own work. Coughing lightly into the crook of his elbow, he grabbed his violin case in one hand and his briefcase---carrying his resume as well as a book to read while waiting during down time at the audition---in the other. Then it was out the door, down the street to the subway, and finally out into the icy mid-afternoon air a few blocks away from the theater. |
| It was a nice place, Kayla mused with a small smile upon her face. There was a small theater, there were little humans. This place was, dare she even think it, liveable. With sensitive ears she heard the squealing of tires at a traffic light and the faint sound of music in the distance. The subway raced somewhere beneath her feet. She turned toward the cheap motel room where the food was plenty and the prices were low. She walked through the doors where a business man and a surprisingly young and attractive woman walked through the door arms linked in one another. Kayla paused a moment to watch them and glare. One had a wedding ring. The other didn't. She shuddered as she saw the prostitute reach down and squeeze the business man's fudgy butt. "Can I help you?" asked a man at the desk. Kayla forced her attention on the situation. "Yes, um, a room for the night?" Kayla said as sweetly as she could. He gave her an odd look. "ID?" he asked. Kayla nodded briefly and took off her backpack. She reached into the little pocket and took out her wallet with her fake driver's license. She looked away as the man checked it for fear he would see the lie of her age in her eyes. I'm almost eighteen, she thought to herself. Maybe she could pull it off. She smiled at the man as he took her driver's license into the back. Kayla grumbled to herself, clutching a chunk of her own hair. "Why can't they have a stupid teenager at the desk like they always do?" she complained under her breath. "It looks fake," said one man to another. "I can't see what's wrong with it," the manager tried to rationalize. No one with human senses would be able to hear the conversation. But Kayla did. She shut her eyes tight and cursed under her breath. "Maybe we should call the police. She might be a runaway." That was it, Kayla decided upon hearing this. She pushed her body over the counter and looked at the computer that was blaringly bright. She squinted and started to fiddle with the buttons until somehow she managed to occupy the room. She grabbed the correct key and in the same moment vaulted herself back over the counter. She shouldered her backpack quickly and ran toward the exit. The man came back ID in hand and the manager ready. Hopefully they would not be checking the security footage now. One man looked at the other and shrugged. The manager slid his arm underneath the counter and threw the ID in the trash. Kayla shook her head stomping as she walked only slightly more upset than she should be, still not upset enough. |
| Dustin was running later than he'd hoped. He'd had to stop off at the corner store on the way to the audition to pick up some cough drops---those little cherry ones that tasted like candy rather than medicine---and a pack of cigarettes. He didn't think he'd be able to get through the audition without either. But the woman in front of him with the huge box of tampons and three squalling children did not know how much her purchase cost. Even worse, the clerk didn't know either, and the two kept arguing over the price as Dustin fidgeted impatiently in line behind them. "Excuse me," Dustin snapped at last. "Perhaps the manager can help this lady and in the meantime you can ring me up? I’m in a hurry here." The mother glared over her shoulder at him and met his even colder stare. “Wait your turn,” she said somewhat weakly after encountering those frozen blue eyes. “It is my turn,” Dustin murmured under his breath as the clerk and the customer resumed their argument over fifteen cents. Knowing he was going to be late and unwilling to wait any longer, Dustin slipped the cough drops into his pocket with a quiet, wordless "don't notice me" tune rolling softly out of his lips. A sharper note on the way out the door disabled the surveillance camera---they wouldn't be able to view any of the footage of that day at all. That trick was a little harder; he was sweating slightly and trying not to shake like a junkie as he stepped out the glass door back into the cold. |
| Kayla stood about fifty feet away from the dumpster, her face twisted in disgust. Her ID was in there, she knew. But a sensitive nose was unwilling. So she stood outside in the parking ears perked (metaphorically speaking of course) for danger outside. "That fake driver's license caught me seventy-five bucks," she grumbled. It was a good one too. She'd honestly had no idea how the clerk could tell it was a fake, because it had done her well for about an entire year. It had even gotten her a drink that one time she thought getting drunk would solve her mood. (Boy did that go wrong. No deaths, but lots of clumsiness and property damage.) Then again, it must have been a holiday weekend because no one had taken out the trash in the dumpster in over a week. That was for sure. Even from where she stood she could hear the buzzing of flies, smell the maggots in old, dirty diapers, and... Kayla stopped to think. Reluctantly she savored the smell she with a deeper whiff. Her nose crinkled. She knew THAT smell all too well. She went to the nearest payphone and opened her wallet to get out some change. She frowned, suddenly realizing she wasn't getting her ID back now. She punched three numbers in the telephone and waited a beat. "911, what's your emergency?" "Hi," Kayla said shyly. "I want to make this anonymous. I think there's a body in a dumpster where I'm at." She looked over her shoulder at the mound of trash. She gave them the address and looked around to see a few security cameras pointing at her from across the parking lot. Of course they would have security cameras in the parking lot. People are breaking into guests' cars all the time. "Alright, ma'am...Just stay where you are the police will be there shortly." "AH! Shit!" Kayla burst noticing the cameras on her. She hung up the phone with a great "clang" and ran, her barefoot slapping the concrete as she ran and her backpack bouncing on her back in unison. They're going to think I did it. I'm the one with a shady past. They're going to corner me and I'm going to kill them all. At least you'll be alive, her instincts told her. Kayla thought on that quietly, not for the first time. The whole world would be safer without you. You're a menace. At that thought she ran faster. (Aideen is away on a trip for a while, so I'll be impatient and skip her. She'll be back soon.) |
| Name: Derrik Tags Age: 18 Personality: Very mysterious. No one knows much about him as he just moved into town a year ago. This gives him an unpredictable nature. Very difficult to earn trust from him. Appearance: Derrik is 6'3" and 190 pounds. he works out regularily and runs almost every day. History: Derrik just moved into town as his parents both died in a car accident. he is moving in with his parents. Shortly after his parents death, he looked into the evidence and found that the investigators overlooked a vital piece of information. There was evidence of two men who may have plotted this hit and run. Their type of inner struggle: Tags is determined to find the people who killed his parents. He has had an unusual ability to read others minds. He discovered this right after his parents passed away and is only now prodding to fin out how far he can reach. ~~..~~ Derrik had a nice even pace as he jogged down a busy city street. his breath was undisturbed and strong. When he went running, it gave him time to think about his parents. He usually couldn't think about them as he was always working or studying for school. The name "Tyler Bennings" kept forcing its way into his mind. He was almost positive that this man was one of his parents killers. He broke right into an alley where he had a previous engagement scheduled. There was a man standing behind a dumpster in a hooded sweatshirt. Derrik stopped in front of him and handed him a small wad of cash. In return, he handed Tags a heavy .45 pistol. It was a Colt 1911 along with two extra mags. Tags gave the man a slight nod and sprinted off. as he rounded a corner into another alley, he almost ran smack into a woman. She was in a hurry, and didn't even apologize. Thoughts forced their way into his head about a dead body and security cameras. It was odd, but he figured she was screwed. He got her name though, so he was pleased that his skills weren't that bad... |
| Kayla looked over her shoulder at the person she'd run into and then continued. Staying here would be foolish. So how was it that she felt like she was going to be here for a while? Kayla finally stopped as she rested on the other side of a building. She leaned over and rested her hands on her knees. Kayla heard sirens from afar. She forced herself to calm down. If she were to be cornered the last thing she'd want to do is hurt somebody. She had better keep her cool as best and as long as she could. The sirens didn't follow her footsteps. She was pleased with that. She took off her jacket, pulled off her backpack and took out her shoes. Then she put her hair up. She didn't bother checking to see how she looked, as long as she looked as little similar to the person in the security footage as possible. With that she slowly continued deeper into the city. She didn't know why she was going to stay here. It just smelled right, supposed. And she hadn't hurt anyone. In fact she may have helped someone. This place couldn't be so bad. Distracting her thoughts, Kayla went to go find an apartment for rent in the Classifieds. |
| (I was gone one night geez :p j/k When Ariana wants to write she gets impatient. I'm use to it.) Rhianna pulled over as she felt the nausea roll over her. She had never puked in her undead life before this pregnecy and she felt sorry for the humans who threw up hundreds of time throughout their life. She didn't make it to the side of the road in time, but threw up all along the side of the car. She knew that her throw up looked like the blood she had jacked form the blood bank earlier that day and that it would cause a scene. Moaning, Rhianna got out of the passenger side door as to avoid the puke and grabbed a towel she had in the trunk. It took all of her strength not to throw up all over again. She wasn't use to this feeling of helplessness. Before she could get back in her car she watched as several cop cars peeled around the corner and drove pass her. The smell of the exhaugst tickled her nose but there was an underlying metallic smell. Blood. And it wasn't the throw up on the side of her car. "Well shit" Rhianna said as she hopped back into the car. She had to get out of the area. If they saw the blood on the side of the they would think that she had been the one to kill the human. As unconspikuous as she could be she pulled away from the road and drove in the oppisite direction of the police. |
| Name:Ahrielle Jacobsen Age: 19 Personality: She is a nonchalant person. Her mainframe is why should I waste my energy? Her past made her keep to herself more than others, although she will strike a conversation with you. Appearance: 5'8" African American female with mocha brown skin tone. Her eyes are a light hazel and her chin length hair is dyed a platinum blonde. Her body structure is toned; she carries her 140 lbs very well. She works out continously and participates in a lot of activities. History:Ahri, as she is called, is coming to grips of her parents' abandonment of her and her siblings. She is unaware of where they are or who would have them. Their type of inner struggle:Ahri is also battling a lot of internal demons -- Self-love, Lonliness, Addiction, Suicide. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "O.K. girls, see you later...." Ahrielle waved her long fingers at her friendsas they parted, like they always do, after a brief workout. The group of four started this a year ago to keep themselves on the straight path of fitness and haven't stopped yet. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back from her face as she stared across the parking to her Chevy Malibu, walking towards it. Throwing the bag into the backseat, she slumped herself in the driver's seat and drove off, blasting her music as she did. >>>>>> She eyed herself in the mirror, admiring her reflection. Her hair was tousled to frame her face in loose curls, accentuating those light hazel orbs. Her attire was a tube top that stopped right below her belly button and flared pinstriped slacks, topped off with clear stiletto sandals. I can't believe they got me to go out. I do not club. Hearing the knock at her one bedroom abode, she opened the door, shaking her head as her friends pulled her to their vehicle. >>>>>>>> Eyes looked like slits as Ahri rubbed her hands over her face, not sure as to what she just tried from her friend, Celeste. Leaning against the wall, she tried to dance by herself, hoping that the day she had with no thoughts of her past or no thoughts of her present woud crowd her mind...... |
| (At least I admit to being impatient) Kayla had waited a long while for the police to put out warnings for her. She had her oversensitive words listening for it everywhere she went. She didn't hear her name anywhere. So she eventually relaxed and settled into a resturaunt waiting for nightfall. She poked at her rare steak finding only the slightest amusement that it was so rare that it provoked her more animalistic instincts. It was almost as though they forgot to cook it. Kayla shrugged. It wasn't like she didn't like it though. In fact she very much enjoyed the fact that it was soaking in it's own blood on her plate. "Honey, you want something to wash that down with?" Kayla looked up at the heavy set waitress who had thick short curls and a face that was riddled with impatience. Her name was Bertha. A name quite suited for her. "Water?" Kayla said. "Aren't we the great spender?" Bertha said dryly. Kayla smiled at the woman and resisted the urge to give her a smart ass comment right back at her. The doors opened ringing the bell that was attached to it and then she felt someone sit beside her. |
| (Hey someone has be patient between us. I'll be nice and not tell the group about Tatsu at Magic Mountain. :) he he) Rhianna needed food and fast. And she wasnt' in the mood for O negative. She wanted a burger. Mmm, a raw hamburger smothered in mayonaise and cheddar cheese. Rhianna could feel her mouth watering at the thought. She drove around the city looking for something other then a fast food place. She would rather kill herself then eat at a McDonalds. She found the diner not to far from where she had smelled the decomposing corpse. But first thing first, she had to get the vomit off of the side of her car. Cause a normal human would only see the blood and not the chunks of Sun Chips in it. So taking the towel that she had used before, she got the rest of the blood off with out anyone coming up to her to ask her what the hell she was doing. Now, time for that yummy, bloody, burger, Rhianna thought to herself as she entered the diner with a smile on her face. |
| "If you make call backs, you'll hear from us in a day or two," the music director said. Dustin restrained a smirk. Basically the same old 'Don't call us, we'll call you.' Shit. His violin case felt heavier as picked it up, and his briefcase---filled with copies of his performance resume---too light. Thirty-seven community-theatre shows. Four paid gigs. Juilliard trained or not, he wasn't doing good. Broadway didn't care how well trained you were. They didn't even necessarily care how talented you were. All they cared about was how many shows you'd done. And they definitely didn't care if you were sick or not. I really should have done my thing. It's not really cheating, is it? Yet still, he couldn't bear the idea of using his weird abilities that way. Couldn't let them taint something he enjoyed. And so he gathered his things, left through the rear exit of the theater, and stepped out into the freezing night air knowing that, once again, he wasn't going to even make callbacks. I need a beer, he thought, angling toward a diner across the street. A huge Guinness and a steak. God damn it. |
| Name: #2364 aka Diane Robinson Age: 17 Personality: She's hesitant to talk to people because of her past, but she loves company. She's always been enchanted by music and art, though she hasn't had the chance to learn. Appearance: Long unbrushed black hair with different colored highlights and black eyes. She also has her number tattooed on her forearm so she always wears long sleeves. She's wearing ripped jeans and scuffed shoes as well as a faded black shirt and long jacket. History: Ever since her foster parents learned that she had dragon blood in her, they sent her away to various labs across the country. Each time she has experienced more pain with the drugs they inject and the scars they create. She managed to escape from the last one, but they are still searching for her, so she can never stay in one place for too long. Their type of inner struggle: Trusting people and having faith in herself. --- Diane leaned against the brick wall, smiling as the music washed over her. The auditions for Sweeny Todd were almost over and she was cherishing every moment. Sometimes though, there were actors who obviously didn't know how to sing, so she would sing over them as she painted the wall. The black spray paint was almost gone. She finished it, then threw the can in the trash. But as she bent down to pick up another, she became aware of someone standing behind her. "I would have never taken you for a vandal." Diane spun around to face the voice. It belonged to a guy around her age. He didn't seem to be any trouble, so she turned back to her painting. "I'm not a vandal. This is art." She replied quietly. "If the cops catch you they'll probably throw you in the slammer." "I don't care." "Your call." He gestured to the wall. "You need a little more shading over here." "I ran out of black." "Bummer." |
| (In my defense, I did not know those people on Tatsu were handicapped.) Kayla looked at the woman beside her. She stared back at her. Kayla sighed. Then she took a big whiff and gagged. "Ugh..." Kayla moaned. The woman turned to face her looking confused. Kayla breathed through her mouth, but the stench was unbarable. She looked around for another place to sit, but if she sat somewhere else the waitress might not see her and she might not get her food. "Are you okay?" Kayla asked the woman beside her. The woman blinked. "Yes...Why?" Because you smell funny, was Kayla's inward response. "You...look like you've been throwing up," Kayla said. "Here you are," Bertha said setting a plate down in front of the woman. It was something that looked like a hamburger, but the meat wasn't cooked. Kayla waited for the woman to complain. But instead she took a giant bite out of it. Kayla felt the color leave her face, mostly out of surprise since Kayla had eaten worse things than raw ground beef slapped between two buns. "Uh..." Kayla started to point out the fact that her burger wasn't cooked. "I like rare meat," the woman responded dryly. Kayla thought for a moment. She tried to be discreet as she forced another whiff. The smell of stale blood running through her veins was strange. She didn't understand what it was, but this woman was different. "Excuse me, Bertha," Kayla said. The waitress turned looking as tired and annoyed as before. "I'll have what she's having." The woman didn't even bother to question her decision. Bertha shook her head. "Why do all the weird ones come here," she muttered. Kayla didn't mind as long as she wasn't the only weird one. |
| "So... what brings you to this neck of the woods?" Diane flinched at the question. "Foster homes were never really my thing." she lied. Well, technically it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. "Foster parents didn't treat you too well, huh?" She gave him a wry smile. "You could say that." He looked back to the painting. "That's kinda wierd. What're you tryin to say?" She set the can down and gestured to different parts of it. "She's trying to fly, but these people over here are cutting off her wings." "Ouch. That why they're black?" "No. They're supposed to be black. They're dragon wings." "Really. So, I think I get it now. This girl," He waved his hand at the wall. "She's trying to express herself, but they won't let her, cuz it goes against what they believe." "That's one interpretation." (Did everybody die? Or is it finals?) |
| (I hope nobody died. And for the love of God I hope it isn't finals.) Kayla and this stranger sat in silence eating their bloodied meat that Kayla knew she probably couldn't afford. She looked over at this woman who at first averted her stare. Juice dripped out of the side of her mouth. There was something that didn't smell right about her. The woman suddenly seemed to notice her. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and set it down. "Cn uh hep oo?" she tried to say intimidatingly through a mouth full of food. "What?" Kayla asked confused. The woman paused and swallowed. "I said, Can I help you?" she repeated. "You sure like your meat rare," Kayla said suspiciously. "So?" Kayla looked away. "It's nothing. Have you seen the movie Rosemary's baby?" Kayla asked. The women chewed her remaining meat slowly. Kayla shook her head and turned away. "Never mind. Just ignore me." "Okay," the woman said with a shrug. Kayla squinted her stare in slight agitation with her tone. She took a deep breath and sipped her water. |
| (No finals here. I've been working ten days in a row with out a break so I'm ready to kill my boss.) Rhianna watched the girl as she chewed the food in her mouth. The girl reeked of wet dog so bad that it made her want to gag. Why would she want her wet dog to do that shaky thing all over her and not change. The burger, if it could be called that, was the best thing she had eaten in a long time. And he stomach needed it after throughing up all over her car. "Well that was good." Kayla said as she looked at Rhianna. It had literally taken her no longer then two minutes to scarf down the raw burger. Rhianna looked at the girl with puzzeling eyes. No human would ever have eated a raw burger with out gagging, none the less, eat it in three bites. The little wheels in Rhianna's brain began to turn and soon the lightbulb went off in her head. "Werewolf," she whispered to herself but she knew that the girl had heard her. |
| (Definitely finals for me. Stayed up 64 hours straight at one point to get everything done. And it is done now, thank all that is holy and quite a bit that is not!) There was something very off about this woman, but Dustin couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was. He was intrigued, but not enough so to try to get her to talk. She was a cute girl, in a kind of unkempt, haunted sort of way. Pretty enough to look at, but he had a feeling he didn't want to know her story. "Hey! You two!" The girl jumped, slipping her paint can with practiced ease into her jacket at the sound. Dustin sighed and turned slowly over his shoulder to regard an approaching police officer. The officer seemed to have sized them both up at a distance as the culprits who'd vandalized the wall. As the cop rushed over, breathing hard, Dustin sighed again. "Your fingers have paint on them," he told the girl in a calm, quiet voice. She shoved her hands into her pockets. "What do you kids think you're doing?" the officer demanded. "To be honest, officer, we're not doing anything," Dustin said smoothly. He lifted his violin case casually. "We just came out of auditions and saw this. Paint's fresh; I think someone must have been working on it while auditions were in progress and been frightened away when they heard people coming out the back door." The officer didn't look entirely convinced, and the girl, shrugging behind Dustin and fidgeting nervously, wasn't making the story any more believable. As the cop eyed the girl's faded shirt and old shoes, and Dustin's "math is hard" t'shirt and beat up converses, Dustin began humming softly under his breath. Immediately the headache increased. He'd been doing this too much today, but what the heck, practice made perfect, right? The sound was almost too low to hear---a slow, monotonous, slightly pulsing base note---and the cop's eyes sort of slid away from the scene and back toward the street. "Well," he said with clear disinterest and boredom, "You kids have a good day and stay out of trouble." Then a spark of genuine kindness showed through. "Oh, and good luck on the auditions!" Dustin cringed at the lapse in theater etiquitte. The girl looked relieved. The cop was already leaving, walking down the street toward a car parked facing the wrong direction. Dustin stopped singing and slumped slightly. His voice felt raw. "Well," he said with apparent lightness, "My stomach is canibalizing itself." He eyed her skeptically, but something about her still drew him. "Care to grab some food with me?" he asked, almost against his will and certainly against his best interest. |
| Diane checked her watch. She could spare an hour or two as long as she didn't run into any more cops. Her head cocked to the side, as it tended to do when she was worried. "Sure." she said and walked with him to the diner. It was a rundown place that tended to serve cold coffee and soggy burgers. But she didn't care, since she hadn't eaten in two days. They took stools at the counter and waited for the waitress. Diane looked over at the black haired girl she sat next to and smiled. It was a pathetic one, but the best she could manage. Oh well. The girl didn't notice her anyway. She turned her attention back to the guy she met in the alley and realized they were never introduced. "I'm Diane." "Dustin." An ancient looking woman came over to them. "Can I get you anything?" "Coffee. Black." She knew it was more than she wanted to spend, though she would need the energy if she was going to spend another night running. Dustin ordered tea, then seem to notice her strange look. "Sore throat." he explained. |
| Kayla felt the shock ripple through her body as if she were about to go through the Change. She didn't, thank God, but she felt its symptoms. The hairs on her arm and neck standing on end, her quickening heart rate. Her tightening fists. The woman looked back at her with a smug smile. "I would say you were a vampire," Kayla said. Her heart was quickening even more with anxiety, "But that can't be. You don't smell right." Plus, you're pregnant, she added silently The woman huffed and lowered her voice so the newcomers on the other side of her couldn't eavesdrop. "Let's just say you're half right," she said. Kayla narrowed her eyes. Something about her she didn't like. Maybe it was just the fact that their species were natural enemies. Maybe it was the fact that living the life she lived she could smell a fellow outcast from a mile away. She knew vampires didn't usually travel alone. Or maybe for some strange reason she didn't like her because her loneliness made Kayla think of herself. Kayla's hand clenched tighter around her glass of water. It crunched under the pressure and shards of glass swam with the water as it moved down the counter past the woman and touching the man's elbow next to her. He quickly moved out of the way. Bertha came by looking annoyed. Kayla huffed and held her bloodied hand in her napkin. The woman chuckled. "Yup. No self control? You're a werewolf alright," she laughed under her breath as she sipped her drink. "I hope your baby dies a painful death rotting in the sun," Kayla spat back at her. The woman coughed and sputtered as she said this. Kayla didn't care. She got up and went to the bathroom to wash her hand. Before she got up she looked at the half-vampire. Her eyes were wide gazing at the blood that dripped in thick, juicy droplets on the floor. She couldn't stop staring. In fact she was almost drooling. "Hmph, and you said I had problems with self control?" Kayla said. She turned and swaggered off silently smiling in victory as she'd got the last word in. She continued toward the bathroom. |
| Rhianna really wanted to slap the werewolf across the head but then that would be attention to herself. She's not better then the others, she thought to herself as paid for her meal. Even a werewolf wanted her baby dead. Rhianna glanced once again at the blood on the counter. She wasn't going to lick it up because werewolf blood in poison to her kind, but she wasn't going to let some little kid threaten her. Rhianna told herself that she just had to go to the bathroom and take a leak but deep down she knew she was about to lay the girl over her knee. |
| Diane's coffee was cold, just as she'd expected. When she was sure no one was looking, she turned to the side and parted her lips. Fire passed over them, heating the drink to the perfect temp. Once she was sure it was just right, she swiveled back in her chair to face Dustin. "So...Where're you from?" she asked, taking her first sip. He didn't seem to hear her, so she retreated to her steaming cup. She just hadn't realized how lonely she'd become before meeting a friendly face. Her thoughts were interrupted by a searing pain down her spine. She shook it off at first, but it soon became too much to bear. "Be right back." she whispered, leaving her friend for the bathroom. She slammed into ther nearest stall and knelt beside the toilet. Ripples began beneath her skin. Her eyes blazed orange as she leaned lower, a strangled scream escaping from her throat. She punched the wall, leaving a small crack in the cement. It hurt so much. She never should have let it go on that long. |
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