Black Dawn - A Supernatural RPG.

Who: Jude
What: Drawing and thinking.
Where: Library.
When: A little after 1:30pm.


The picture was grotesque and Jude didn't know why he was drawing it. It was a man. Or, at least, he had used to be a man when he was alive. Now... dead and unaware of it...angry and lost and frightened...he was something else entirely. The human soul laid bare, maybe. Or the otherworld peeking through into this one. Neither human nor supernatural, both and neither at the same time. A ghost. His neck had been broken so badly that the flesh there was twisted and his head hung limp and upside-down against his chest. Eyes, tortured and pleading, gazed out from his overturned face.

It was an image Jude had been unable to rid himself ever since he saw it a few days ago. It lingered, a nightmare come to life. He even remembered how the ghost's skull had bounced lightly against his chest in time with his steps. The memory made the bruises the fury-filled ghost had left ache. Absently, he put a hand over one of the angry marks that marred the pale skin of his arm.

A half-troubled, half-angry frown turned down Jude's lips. Was this how he spent his first day off since he had started his new job? Fretting? Dwelling on past hauntings? He had refused to spend it alone, holed up in the tiny little motel room he currently called home and instead he came to the library and worried? No. Not today.

Jude resolutely flipped his sketchbook to the next blank page and, closing his eyes, let out a slow breath as if centering himself. Two more breaths later a calm settled over him. A small smile graced his features and his eyes opened. He placed the pencil against the page and started to draw, letting his hand go where it willed.

A few hours passed with Jude absently sketching before, picture finished, he pulled himself out of the pleasant haze and back into reality. Green eyes studied the drawing. A man again. This one, handsome and sharply featured, stood leaning against a brick wall. Hands in his pockets, head tilted back and resting against the stone so his eyes gaze skyward. The image was sad and beautiful, filled with sorrow and longing. Demetrius.

Jude's slender fingers ghosted over the picture as a blush rose to his cheeks. He bit down on his bottom lip, gaze lingering upon the artwork as if unable to look away. He had only meant Demetrius once--a brief, chance encounter--and...God, what was he thinking? Nothing would ever come of it. He slipped a sheet of tracing paper between the pages to protect the drawing and then slammed the sketchbook close.

Despite how old he looked he was thirty-two and Demetrius was only what? Eighteen? ...Yet he acted older beyond his years... Nevermind that. Even if the age difference didn't matter Demetrius would want nothing to do with him. He was a fool for wanting it, for even dreaming about it. Fingers curled around the edge of the notebook, aching for another peek. Another touch.

"Fuck," he said quietly, barely a whisper.

It was getting late in the afternoon and Jude had already spent the better part of his day sequestered in the library so, pushing his thoughts away, Jude got to his feet and started to leave.

Who: Kira
What: Going home
When: Afternoon
Where: Subway train


I’m sorry but you’re just not what we’re looking for.

Kira wondered how often she would have to hear that very same (and tired) phrase before she’d finally be hired for a role in a musical or play. She had never expected finding a job to be easy but she hadn’t expected it to be this hard either. She was talented, she knew she was talented. But…each refusal came with the underlying message of her being ‘too Japanese’. Oh, they didn’t say it outright but she knew what ‘you’re not what we’re looking for’ meant; she wasn’t stupid. She sighed. Maybe she should cave and hire an agent… The thought made her mentally grimace; she couldn’t afford to pay an agent.

Flashing a smile at the pretty, petite blonde who was next in line, Kira left the theater and stepped out onto the busy afternoon sidewalk of New York City. She paused for a moment, allowing herself a final glance of longing at the theater. A small frown fluttered across her pretty features. “Better luck next time,” she thought to herself. Turning away, Kira stepped into the hurrying throng of people. She moved as anyone accustomed to city-living would; quickly, easily weaving her way through the crowd as she walked. She descended the steps into the subway.

As she waited for the train, Kira tried to find thoughts that would boost her spirits. All great actresses of the stage had met with struggle before finding success, hadn’t they? She knew--knew like she knew the sky was blue and that the stars burned--that she was meant for this life. She smiled a little. It would happen. Someday. She didn’t plan on giving up anytime soon.

The train slid into the station and the doors opened with a soft hiss of air. Trying not to get jostled about too much by the crowd, Kira got onto the train. She carefully sidestepped around an elderly woman with a can only to be bumped into hard by a large, sweaty, and unkempt man. She tumbled back and, cursing in Japanese, landed roughly in someone’s lap.