Haunted Roads

When: Night
Where: Towers
Who: Keisuke and OPEN

Vampires for the most part, hated to travel. It was understandable really. For a species that could not bear sunlight and one that was weakened by its need to stay away from light, traveling meant being at the mercy of whatever unknown environment or people they were near during the daytime. Traveling was a hassle, a risk to be avoided. This was one of the reasons many and most vampires chose to stay root in their native home. Keisuke traveled more than any of the other "siblings" of his clan- he'd always been a bit of an outsider, this was merely one more strange characteristic to set him apart.

He didn't especially like traveling, much for the same reasons any other vampire wouldn't like traveling. Although he had safety spots, rooms, places he knew he could get to if he needed to stay somewhere in emergency, the chances of being trapped by daylight somewhere brought uncomfortable memories and the closest thing to fear that the vampire could feel actively. The faint scars from his last experience with daylight still decorated the back of his hands, though they had long since faded from their original burnt flesh look.

He'd been gone for a good few weeks, delayed by publications then by his own desire to stay put in Los Angeles to regain some security and establish a few more connections before returning to Seattle. He'd finally booked his return flight through the internet, marveling at the ease that modern technology allowed things to be accomplished these days. No longer did he have to worry about having to buy things at night, limited by what was open or relying on a third party to do his purchasing for him. Now he could order whatever he wanted from the internet. Amazon was your friend.

The flight was on time and he'd taken a taxi from the airport back to the Towers. Time was a strangely viewed concept for the undead and the few weeks that he'd been gone felt both like no time at all and like forever. It didn't matter. There could be time for getting to relearn the place. Holding the small travel duffel he'd lived out of during the trip to California, he made his way through the double doors of the Tower into the central lobby, shaking off the bit of rain he'd gotten on himself from the taxi to the building entrance.

When: Night
Where: Streets of Seattle near Old Towers
Who: OPEN

Keisuke walked slowly, feeling the rain running down his hair, rain seeping into his clothes, plastering his outer dress shirt to the two long-sleeved shirts he wore inside. His hands were empty, hanging loosely at his side. The rain had begun to taper off, the lights on the street shining, streaking, painting the water and oil washed city in glistening colors. At another time, he might have been inclined to admit it beautiful in its own twisted, contemporary style, ugly modern buildings awash in lights. Right now, he was too tired to care.

He was annoyed, the human he'd been plying that night had slipped through his fingers, the girl with her big eyes and lips that were too red, the alcohol stinking her breath. He had been able to smell everything about her, her entire day just from the scent that oozed from her pores, cleanser, perfume, onion and garlic from her dinner, the fact that she had eaten a large meal with meat sometime that day. The smells had been a sickening mix, but one that he forced himself to accept as he smiled at her, his eyes fake but understanding, his words complimentary but with just enough of a lead, suggestive, but not forceful. And then it had all slipped away with her stupid boyfriend, the dumb human had tracked them down at the bar. He'd been too disgusted by the drama, already annoyed at the loudness of the club, the shouting and music and the smells, so many smells that made him sick and hungry at the same time. The man, his eyes red and flared in drunken anger and jealousy, grabbing her hand and yelling, hands gesturing. He could have made him leave, could have taken her and left, taken her back to her place, soothed her mind, numbed her to confusion and fed.

But he left, slipping away, using his ability to amplify emotion to make the confusion, the anger, the love stronger, so that neither would remember him by the end of the night, as they continued in their dance of human emotions. And so he walked, hungry still, tired from the wasted efforts, rain falling, not wanting to take a taxi, just slowly moving his way from street to street back towards the towers. He kept to the inner side of the sidewalk, moving smoothly but slowly, his steps quiet by nature, measured by practice. Cold, wet, hungry- times like this made him miserable and tired and oh so old. Miserable. The times when he hit full on blood lust, when will battled instinctual need to feed, those were the most horrible, to have your body betray you was a feeling like no other he had ever experienced. But wet and hungry. Well, miserable was not a fun feeling either.

Who: Keisuke and Open
What: Riding out the storm
Where: The Towers
When: Wednesday night
Rating: TBA

Keisuke stretched his arms over his head as he stood there, barefoot in his room, the rain pounding away at his tinted windows. Lightening struck outside, thunder adding a hint of gloom and melancholy to the mood. Behind the heavy curtains, he knew there would be buildings and people, random cars scurrying from one place to the next, either trying to get away from the storm or reveling in the suddenly changed world because of it. Did Americans really enjoy dancing in the rain?

He padded over the the night stand, bare feet enjoying the feel of soft carpet as he passed over the usual black silk handkerchief and opted for a thick leather band instead, strapping it onto his wrist. The dark brown leather wrist-let was good for holding pencils and pens while he was sketching and of course also covered the tattooed name of his own province, one which had long ago fallen into disuse except in textbooks. He had the characters re-tattooed every few years though, the inked kanji letters a promise and reminder of what he'd lost and where he'd come from. Out of his entire clan, he'd always been the most emotionally bound to the past, a fact that many of the others he knew had teased and sometimes mocked him for. How ironic it was that he would be one of the few to leave their motherland.

Pulling on a loose long-sleeved shirt, he slipped his feet into a pair of white converses, the low-tops comfortably worn, just as he liked them. The storm continued outside, the rain a noisy soundtrack as he prepared himself and his art supplies. He did not particularly feel like leaving today, not when he'd already fed and the rain outside was not going to let up for a while. He did not particularly feel in the mood to paint or work in his room either. Perhaps he would go sit in the garden and draw designs to the sound of distant angry skies, or sit in the commons room doing charcoal sketches of the comings and goings there. There was time and he was in no particular hurry. That was one thing he'd learned since he'd been turned. For the undead, you had all the time you needed.

Who: Keisuke and Open
Where: Walking back towards the Towers
When: Monday Night
Rating: TBA

Keisuke had finally finished giving his assistant all the paperwork that he'd finished with in the last two weeks. Translation of the latest journals that the publishing company he was currently signed up with had been easy, if a little boring. He'd resisted the urge to correct some of the grammer and terminology in the original, disappointed and amused at the same time that Japanese had changed so much through the centuries. Honorifics, titles, even the ending of phrases changed. Sometimes he felt he had to work just as hard with his mother tongue as he did with learning English, just so he didn't sound awkwardly anachronistic, with formal speech that had long fallen out of use.

The girl he'd met with had pretty eyes hidden behind thick ugly black plastic glasses. She'd been snuffling continuously and had apologized profusely that she'd caught a cold and she hope she wouldn't give it to him. He'd made no response, merely continuing to let her know which documents needed to be mailed to Los Angeles, which needed to be edited and sent back.  He did not enjoy dealing with postal services, even UPS, FED-EX, AIR, or any of the companies. Something about mail and mailing things seemed like such an annoyance, a rushed way of doing things. "We'll have it there by midnight!" No. He'd leave all of the messy paperwork detail to the book-keeping assistant that the local publishing sister company had. She didn't seem to mind and in fact had mentioned once that she enjoyed starting her work later because of his later "hours of inspiration". She and his publisher both knew that Keisuke did his work best when uninterrupted during the evening and sleeping through the day. Being an eccentric artist had its benefits.

Wrapping the loosened scarf he had on more tightly around the neck of his dress shirt, he paused for a brief moment as he walked down the darkened streets of Seattle, sporadic cars whizzing by in their hurry to be where they needed to. He was running low on gauche and he'd been thinking of finishing up the watercolor work he'd been fiddling with since last week. He remember there to be an arts and crafts shop somewhere nearby but given his lack of explorations thus far, he couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was in his fuzzy memory. Seeing not many people on the street, he wondered if he'd be luckier braving a stranger for directions or wandering into a nearby cafe or store to ask for the way.

Standing there, slightly tousled black hair falling over his eyes a little, black dress shirt paired with a thin grey and white scarf over loose slacks, he had a look of blank uncertainty even as he touched his finger to his lips in thought. The black handkerchief he'd tied in the morning, shifted downwards a little, but remained tight, paired with the black leather gloves he wore to cover his sun scarred hands. Finally deciding, he turned a little, looking around to see who looked like they wouldn't mind being bothered for directions.

WHO: Keisuke & open
WHEN; Wed, Feb. 13th (evening)
WHERE: Walking out on the streets near Uwajima Super Market
RATING: PG?

Keisuke did miss the sun at times, and he found usually the darker the night, the more he wished he could see the light of day. Sometimes he let his artwork reflect this, bright burning colors of reds and yellows, mixing to create oranges or staying streaked in messy smears across canvas as he rubbed the paint on his hands, wondering if he could remember what true sunshine felt like. Then he would remember the burn, the searing pain of flesh roasting, charring in the dim dusk light and he would shiver, out of habit rather than cold, and pull his thin leather gloves on tighter. It had been a long time before he could write, much less draw without pain throbbing in his hands after Mimoru's death and although the scars had begun to fade, he would never forget how close to being burned alive that day.

He walked slowly now, his worn and broken-in black converses making no sounds as he worked his way out of the carts and people near the Japanese supermarket. Even if he'd bought no more than a coffee to drink, the warm cup giving him a fake mockery of the real warmth he could never grasp, it was enough to give him a pleasant reminder of Japan, hearing the words and reading the signs. The cashier had smiled at him, her dimples playing up the rosy color of her cheeks. He'd smiled back and let his eyes linger on hers for a few extra moments, always keeping his options for a blood partner open. Sometimes they appeared in the strangest of places, met at the most unique of opportunities. One was not to look the gift horse in the mouth.

The two scarves he wore, one thin black one, the other a striped blue-green, hung down from where he'd casually wrapped them around his neck. The stripped one had loosened and was now dangling in two loops around his neck and back as he continued forward, art pad under one arm, pencil and pen clipped to his jeans pocket. The grey pair of jeans had threatened to fall off when he'd pulled them on the night before, when he'd been preparing for resting during the day and he'd looped a white braided belt through to keep them secured.

Nearing a bench near the park, he glanced around for a trashcan to throw his cup away in. The brown liquid was now cold and he'd never been very fond of coffee and its aftertaste to want to drink it anyway. Locating one hidden away by tall bushes, he walked over, bending slightly to make sure his cup went into the small opening. His ears heard the sound of footsteps approaching as his cup made a soft bouncing sound as it ricocheted inside the metal can down to its soggy demise.

Who: Gidget and [Open]
Where: Commons room
When: Just after dusk
What: Gigi is popular and spendy

"Whoot!" The exclamation was more out of surprise rather than excitement, but Gidget Pei-Pei knew how to blur those lines rather well. A tiny woman of Chinese descent, she made an impressive presence. Or maybe it was just all the light radiating from her outfit that made her seem bigger. It could easily be said that most people could not pull off a strapless yellow short-fibre terry-cloth baby-doll knee-length dress, but Gigi had the magic touch.

And that magic touch was called gorgeous metallic purple D&G platform heels and a gorgeous lightest pink trenchcoat with clear vinyl waist sash. Gigi complimented this with a modernized 60's beehive, wide oval sunglasses, bright red fingernails and toenails, dramaticly curved eyeliner, pale lips, and a huge bracer/bracelet of thin wire mesh and pieces of amethyst.

Around her neck was a collection of lockets in silver and gold she had collected over the years.

Her outfit made it clear why such volumes of shopping was strictly required. Seattle was a new city to her and there were 'treasures' that had been waiting for her everywhere. Certain designers that were local were definitely trying to cull her patronage. A comped pair of shoes there, some bracelets here, it added up after a while. Of course, this came with the promise of returning when there were photographers around, but that was par for the course. Gidget wasn't on the cover of Star, but you could see her in a magazine fairly regularly. Perhaps lest regularly now that she wasn't primarily residing in the Big Apple for the first time in her life.

What had really killed her was checking her mail. Dozens of letters and packages were waiting for her. Gigi tended to get everything done last minute, so tons of random little things were still trickling in through the mail, as well as cards from just all kinds of people. Mix that wither dozen small to medium bags, and one larger bag filled with fabric, and this little lady was overloaded. Just a moment ago half of her pile had just straight tipped over.

After rebuilding her pile (rather noisily and with a lot of swearing), Gidget stepped back with her hands out to make sure it was built to last. An entire large, plush armchair was overtaken with her goods. The elevator seemed so close by. Maybe she should shuffle everything over and just drag it along? That would take a lot of time to redistribute her bags and she had a couple of party invitations for the evening. Nothing major, but there was a lovely evening dinner and cocktails function going on. Politician, probably just wanted to meet the little p(art)y star of his city. As long as the wine was good and free, she would consider going.

Didn't they have a busboy in this building? Ah, fuck it. Gigi would just find the nearest available soul for use. Not like they might not need something someday! "Ecsusi moi!" She called, waving one hand dramatically to get their attention (as if she probably didn't have it already). "Do you have a moment?" She smiled fetchingly as she presented them her pile with so much flair Bob Barker was somewhere having a hot flash.