| Thursday: February 7, 2008 |
[27 Aug 2009|12:11am] |
Who: Dylan [Narrative]
When Morning
Where: His office in Town Hall.
What: Dylan is conflicted by Hayate’s heroic actions and Dante’s confession to the murders.
Note: Just have your character respond with a comment that is a letter to Dylan!
Dylan paced his office as the sun was rising, trying to make sense of the events from the past few days. He pulled back a curtain to reveal the early morning sky pink from the rainfall. Glad for the moment of silence away from people, Dylan simply studied the clouds and cleared his mind of other thoughts. The djinni needed some time to himself to rejuvenate his mind. He was more tired than usual from late nights and meeting after meeting. The Vice Council members attempted to collect evidence on Hayate, but they had all come up dry.
The victim would not have lied about such a thing, but at the same time Dylan wondered if maybe her encounter had distorted her perception. It was even possible someone tried to look like the man she accused and she confused the two . . . something had to explain it. Even though he was six-hundred-years old, Dylan was still just a man. He was not a god, and he couldn’t be sure of anything regarding this case. He had a particular perception like everything other person, and his perception was barraged with a lack of evidence. He wondered what the councilmen and women thought and decided a meeting would be called for or perhaps an exchange of letters. Dylan needed to know how far they had gotten by now.
It mattered more in these final moments because Dante confessed to the murders of Simon, Eliza, Faye, and Kaiya. All of them were murdered in a way to make it look as though a vampire had done it, but none of the bodies were drained of blood . . . a peculiar thing, and not the mark of a vampire. They had nothing to hold Hayate on anymore since Ms. Hart’s word was not currently enough to keep him behind bars without further evidence, and they had no legal right to hold him for the murders of anyone.
Hayate was free to go as soon as he healed, but Dante . . . a psychopath right under their noses. Dylan told himself they couldn’t have known, but he wished he could have. He wished he could have prevented it, stopped it somehow—but wasn’t that the wish of any good person? To know the bad before it happened, in order to prevent it? Not even a psychic could predict the entire future before them.
Dylan let the curtain fall over the window and moved to his desk, sitting down in his chair. He pulled out the envelopes and letters to prepare one for each of the Vice Council members. Today, they would each receive one.
( I see a storm bubbling up from the sea, and it's coming closer . . . )
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| Thursday: February 7, 2008 |
[27 Aug 2009|11:26pm] |
Who: Zach & Nico
When: Late Evening
Where: Their cottage.
What: Zach has to talk to Nico about the girlfriend situation. Post will contain chilling, alcohol, and perhaps a little bit of Bad English.
Zach wasn’t a girl, so luckily he wasn’t spending his time moping the way a girl usually did. No ice cream was lying around the kitchen, sad songs weren’t playing from the stereo, and he definitely hadn’t spent any of his time crying. Crying was one of those things Zach strongly avoided and for good reason. It was considered good for girls to cry because they were expressing themselves, but for a guy it seemed the rules were different. Crying made you look like an ass — a pansy — or worse, a mentally unstable person with serious issues. Most people couldn’t handle seeing a man cry, and there was a reason for that. It was very unsettling.
No, Zach was dealing with the situation in a much more manly fashion. He was eating nachos, listening to blaring rap music on the stereo system from their vast collection of CDs, and waiting on Nico to return with the booze. Yes, the booze. Uncle Jack and Cousin José at your service. They were going to have a night of supposed fun, just chilling together as best friends, and get some of their frustrations off their chests. Zach was going to approach this predicament the appropriate way with his friend. First, they were going to bullshit and eventually it would lead up to talking about the more serious things as the night progressed.
Right now, Zach was sprawled out on the floor and staring straight up at the ceiling as he bobbed his head from side to side, which consisted of rolling his head along the carpet. If his hair wound up with static in it, then it wound up with static in it. The two of them would have one more thing to laugh about if it did.
When the front door opened, Zach rolled his head over to look. He was too lazy to get up and check. “Yo, Nico, is that you?”
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