"Re-track the footsteps

That brought us to this favor,

I wouldn't ask this

Of you."

-Coheed and Cambria, "A Favor House Atlantic".

In anyone's plain line of vision, tonight was the perfect night to take a walk. The moon was full and set almost exactly at the center for all to see. Every tree that lined Laurel street stood tall and imposing, not even leaning in the slight breeze. Even the stars in the heavens seemed to be held together by little tufts of cloud here and there. This street known as Laurel was captured in darkness-save for the few street lamps that lit every ten feet of walkway-and along this tainted street walked two oblivious siblings.

The duo that treaded along were tagged with the names Geoff and Kyleen Freenome. Considering how they were indeed related, the similarities in their looks and stature could be nothing but expected. Both had a very dark shade of sandy brown hair (though Kyleen preferred to have blonde streaks in hers), as well as green eyes with little specs of rusty brown poking about near the pupil.

Their facial frames however, weren't as similar as the actual looks and expressions. Twenty-two year old Geoff had a slightly narrow face latitude wise, and the way he wore his hair made him look very "rock-star" in a creepy way. It was short near the neck but longer as it reached the top of his head, thick bunches of hair surrounded his eyes and made a shaggy appearance. His nose was thin and yet handsomely pointed. His lips had a slight pouty quality to them, but at the same time they gave a very sarcastic and expressive countenance. At one point during his highschool years, he was called "Mick Jagger" because of it. But he took it all in stride and used it as a compliment more then anything.

Kyleen, at the age of nineteen, had more of a childlike appearance. Her eyes were big and round, almost looking like shimmering emerald orbs. Her mouth very average yet rather pale for her face no matter how many shades of light lipstick she would put on. Her jaw wasn't as narrow as her brothers, but more round and set. Her hair was down to her jaw line, combed to the side causing a good bunch of it to dangle in front of one eye. But that was her trademark appearance, seeing as how she was a guitar player for the Club Corner on Laurel Street.

In fact, this is where the tale gets a kick-start. One the corner of Laurel and Cherry Street, there lie a deli-by-day-club-by-night building. It was a two story structure that had gargoyles sitting atop the sturdy roof. Each 'goyle was poised above with arms outstretched and unusual wings unfurled, spreading out with bird like flair.

Perhaps that is what gave the Club Corner its spirit.

No one really had laid eyes on a true creature of the night with angelic wings. Giving a light touch to such a shrouding hunk of stone did give some people the sudden inclination to just stand and stare at them, sometimes even causing the regular attendants to pause in thought of weather or not they really wanted to go and dance on the sturdy roof.

Of course, in the end, they all would go, and they would dance the night away under the Gargoyles' watch.

As for the rest of the building, the downstairs appeared as a deli should. Boxed in spaces that held the fresh meats and veggies during the open hours were surrounded by sneeze guard glass. Brown tiled floors glistened with cleaner as the outside light beat upon it softly. Tables were situated pleasingly, allowing elbow as well as leg room. Chairs were placed atop the tables on their flip side as most markets would have them set during closed hours. Only one light on the inside remained on, that being the oven light noting to all that it was remaining warm for the following morning.

The second floor, on a different note, was buzzing with life at some points of the night. At 12am, the Club Corner opened with dry ice mists flowing from the window that turned into a mini elevator. The elevator itself consisted of a high tech pulley and a mirror plated floor board. Safe passage was always insured for each couple and bouncer (Of course, no more than three on the ride, ladies and gents) as the lift took them to the high powered second level. It was there that the music and the people combined, making a mural of pure energy.

Kyleen enjoyed it there. She enjoyed sitting on the red velvet barstool, crimson and black laced guitar in arms while playing for the lead singer, Red. Everyone came to listen to them combine their talents to make the most perfect sound of underground music. Every time Red moved his lips, Kyleen would follow with a few finger nailed pluckes and strums of utter harmony. That was Kyleen's pleasure and Geoff couldn't have been more the proud of his sister.

Geoff had his own admirers as well. Kyleen near worshiped him as they both grew, for Geoff had a talent that Kyleen wanted greatly. The ability to act. The readiness to fake the possible, and make the impossible seem so tangable that the audience wanted nothing more then to grasp the words uttered.

In the ampa-theater that crossed the Club Corner, Geoff made his money doing what he did best. Making his expressions and body lie to the world, subterfuging the obvious and making it a reality. He was so good at that, so drop dead good. In fact, because of his talent, he had gotten the privilage to act otu in many of the top plays that had arisen in the D'indulge Group.

Ah yes, D'indulge, the group that college drama kings and highschool acting wannabe's envied. Everyone wanted to be in it, and those who weren't were just seen as amateurs. You could imagine how unnerved some must have been when Geoff was accepted at the age of 18. Fresh out of highschool and out in the world for the first time. No one would have expected him to make it this far in his four years in the group, and to achieve the lead in a very good rendition of Alfred Hitchcock's "Rear Window". Sure, he had to sit in a wheel chair with his leg in a cast and roll around. But that didn't phase him at all. He played his part, and even got down a Jimmy Stewart accent to boot. Yes, it was just perfect.

Now, the story begins, as once said, right here on Laurel and Cherry.

On this corner at 11:45pm, Geoff looked upwards while reaching into his pocket.

"Oh, look," In the middle of a thought, Geoff nodded towards the gathering crowd. Kyleen followed his gaze, shifting her guitar case in her clasped hand. "Looks like another busy night for you, Kyle."

"Mmmmyeah, well." Kyleen stated, still squeezing the handle and raising a brow. "Red'll be thrilled I'm sure."

Geoff nodded his head, and pursed his lips into a smile as a pack of cigarettes peeked out from his pocket. The red label with metallic silver letters glinted in the street lamps illumination.

"Now," He muttered, reaching into his other pocket. "For the light."

Kyleen set her guitar down softly, tilting it to its side against her black jean covered leg and propping it so it wouldn't fall over. Placing her hands in her own pouches, she shuffled about looking for her Rolling Stone's Zippo.

"Geoff," She said, looking at him square on, her visible eye blinking once and squinting a little at the light. "You really should quit those you know. They will pull the life outta you."

He paused in his search for his matches and leaned his head to the side. His hair following his tilt and making a decent toward the floor.

Every time he did that, Kyleen thought, he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. No wonder all the girls flocked toward him like rats to cheese. He had their mom's cuteness.

"I know Kyle," Lips curving now into a very sarcastic smirk, he held out his hand as Kyleen placed the lighter in it. "That's why after this pack I'm quitting. I only have four left."

"Uh huh," She brushed her hair away from her other eye, and nudged the smooth grouping behind her ear as her mouth formed a frown of doubt. "You said that last pack."

"Last pack? This is that last pack. It's the same one," Again, a smart-assed smile as the flicker of flame out-did the street light for a millisecond. He inhaled the smoke and handed back the lighter. "Besides, I hate this brand anyway. It tastes like tar."

"That's because there is tar in it, numb-nut," She picked up her guitar again while shoving her lighter back in her pocket. Geoff caught the glint of the open mouthed symbol as it slid into the black pants. "Anyway, I have to head in. You going to be here all night?

Exhaling, Geoff rested against the lamp post, his lanky frame moving smoothly and perfectly into the lean. "Actually, no I can't. Turns out Noah and Eli want to run a late night rehearsal. Almost like giving a live showing of the Rocky horror, only its Rear Window. I really don't see how that'll work."

"Neither do I, frankly," Kyleen said, chuckling at the thought. "Good luck with that, I'll see you after the show. 3am alright?"

"Correct as usual, King Kyle," That earned a light hit on his shoulder. For a 5'5", medium build woman, Kyleen did pack a punch. "Okay, okay...sorry...3am it is." He said, laughing and flinching in unison.

"Alright them, I'll see you."

Taking another drag, Geoff nodded and then held his cigarette in front of him. It would be better to save the rest of it for the smoke break, then he could stretch out his pack for another day perhaps.

"Mhmm, will do," He muttered, not only to Kyleen, but tot he cigarette. He put it out on the post, wiggling it a bit to make sure it wouldn't burn anymore than it had. "See you, Kyle."