(_(_(_(_(_(_(Charlotte's POV)_)_)_)_)_)
So, in my dream I'm walking on this ledge, and no matter what I do; how small I try to curl up or how slow I try to move; I always fall off. And then I'm in that stupid graveyard again; the one where I was born. Freaky story, I know. My mom was visiting her (Fairly dead) mother and suddenly went into labor. And who in their right mind goes into a graveyard specifically searching for women giving birth?
But anyhow, the graveyard. I'm standing there looking at tombstones; Mike's, Joe's, Blink's, Race's, Jack's, Spec's, Pie's, and Dutchy's. The weird thing is though; I can't find Spot's. I just can't. Then I hear something behind me and I always turn around. It's like I'm looking for trouble. (I know. Me? Looking for trouble? NEVER!)
And behind me stand Morris and Oscar Delancey, and they're holding this twisted strangled Spot-esque corpse. They drop him and he disappears, then it starts to get weird. (-er) Morris picks me up and kisses me and then they carry me off somewhere to see these guys in weird black cloaks. Then I wake up.
The last few weeks have been fine. We haven't had any real serious run ins with the Neo-Nazis or any weird transformations of the Griffon or Unicorn type. Well, there's the dream; but no one knows about that.
The most interesting part was when Mike burst into my room demanding that I accompany him and everyone else to a club. And perhaps it's the whole being in an asylum think that makes me wig out, but am I not a little young to be gallivanting off to a club? I, of course, voice my opinions to Mike, who merely looks at me as if I've grown a third head. This is, however, entirely impossible, considering the fact that we all know spontaneously generating heads only generate one at a time.
"You have to go. Jack says so," Yes. Jack is so the new authority I respect. Not.
"We dug Jack out of a hole in the ground shouldn't we be giving him orders?" Mike shakes his head. Well personally I think the little shit should at least be grateful enough to not run around playing pharaoh. He does it all the time and it's really annoying.
(_(_(_(_(_(Blink's POV)_)_)_)_)
We walk into the club and I realize that Pie Eater is clutching my hand. I look up and can see why. This place is chock full of vampires.
But then again, it's called the Blood Letter, so I suppose this fact is to be expected. We headed to the bar. (Yes, all ten of us) we filled every stool except one. Every one ordered their specific beverage of choice. I noticed two vampires who seemed to be pointing at as and whispering to each other. I pointed this out to Joe who was conveniently stationed next to me. He downed the rest of his screwdriver and nodded, passing the information down the line.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later, the two stood and headed towards the bar. Spot and Jack turned on their stools as did Charlie and Mike. Those four were apparently assuming the job of ambassadors. I felt a sudden, gentle pressure on my hand and turned to see Pie place his cold appendage on mine. I nodded in what I hoped was a reassuring fashion.
The two vampires were very different as far as looks. One of them had straight, longish, blond hair and cold, crystal blue eyes. He was tall and skinny, the veins in his arms stood out. The other was also tall and skinny, but he had longer brown hair and dark, welcoming, brown eyes. The brunette flashed a crooked smile, which no one but Charlie returned.
"Oh, Michael, I'm insulted," the blonde remarked as a smirk sidled onto his features. Mike looked at him for a moment more and then his thin lipped, emotionless glance turned suddenly warm.
"Taylor? Scott?" Mike stood and Joe whirled around. The four apparently knew of each other.
"No shit," Joe began "we heard you guys pretty literally bit the dust years ago,"
"Honestly Joseph, you of all people should have more faith in us," Scott remarked. Charlie elbowed Mike.
"D'you wanna introduce us Michael," she put emphasis on the use of his full name.
"Oh, this is Taylor," he gestured to the blonde, "and this is Scott," the brunette nodded.
"I'm Charlotte," she murmured. Taylor took her hand and kissed it before falling into an extravagantly low bow.
"Taylor Hale, at your service milady," Charlie couldn't help but blush at that remark. Spot cleared his throat.
"Oh go sit on a pinecone," she turned and sent him a, in my opinion, well deserved glare. The conversation was loosened up from that point. However, while everyone else was dancing, Pie Eater and I sat at the bar discussing our relationship over the past weeks. We had kissed but once, however it seemed that there was a silent understanding between the two of us.
We exited the club in the wee hours of the morning and surprisingly no one was more than tipsy. Pie and I held back and held hands. The trip home was virtually eventless except for the fact that I was wrong about the whole tipsy thing and Spot puked in the immaculately clean-cut lawn.
(_(_(_(_(_(Specs' POV_)_)_)_)_)
It was forty-eight minutes past two when I heard it. I know because I checked the clock.
I heard running. But it wasn't footsteps inside; I could hear small feet flying through the wet grass at an astonishing speed. I crept from my room and walked down my staircase, and then to the door.
"You heard in then?" Spots voice behind me scared the absolute hell out of me, but I nodded and shoved the huge door open, stepping out onto the lawn.
"I bet Charlie can hear this," I murmured. No sooner had I spoken then she walked outside behind us with Jack.
"What is it?" She questioned. Jack took her hand in a slightly reassuring fashion.
"It's someone running," Spot replied, although I don't thing that's the whole answer, I really don't.
"Its someone running," I repeated, "From something,"
"Neo-nazis," We all heard Charlie's nearly inaudible whisper.
Suddenly, a girl cut out of the woods, followed closely by six men, all roughly half her size. The girl darted behind me and I froze still. I felt, for some reason, that I had to protect her.
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(Charlie's POV)_)_)_)_)_)_)
I wrenched my hand from Jack's grasp, fully ready to kill each and every one of them.
"What's your business with her Delancy?" Spot called across the lawn. Specs turned and told her to be neither frightened, nor mobile.
"She's our business," Oscar replied in an educated tone. Not.
"She's on our lawn," Jack called back. She shifted and placed herself in front of Specs. Bad idea.
"Well, then you can have her," Morris yelled, sending a bullet into her stomach. I winced as I felt it happen. And with all the force I possessed, I flung them all into the trees, hoping I split one or two of them in half.
(_(_(_(_(_(_( Jack's POV_)_)_)_)_)_)
"So, what do we do? We cant let her die," Specs murmured, having found his voice. I don't really blame the kid. His white shirt was already soaked with her blood. I saw her for the first time. She was a tiny little thing, with red hair and the darkest dark blue eyes I'd ever seen. Her skin was pale, her features fragile. Suddenly, I got a picture from Spot.
"Can you do that?" I questioned. He nodded.
"If we want her to live, it's our only choice," he murmured, placing a thumb and forefinger on either of her temples.
((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))
*leaps off the cliff with everyone else* Well, that was intriguing. But last chapter, because of Race *glare* you were left without your quote. So once again, I give you two.
Ma- "The good lord told be you'd be back,"
Jessie- "Yep, she's still talking to Jesus,"
Frank- "Yeah, well, what bothers me is that he's still talking back,"
Frank, Jessie, and Ma- American Outlaws.
Bill- "Well see, the Younger James gang is confusin'. Say we go in to rob a bank and we yell 'We're the younger James gang!' Folks'll be thinkin' 'is there an older James gang? How come we aint never heard of the older James gang?' Instead of puttin' their hands up.
"God. Are we even related? Is anyone listening to me? Hey listen, if I shoot you, and then I shoot you, there's no competition!"
Bill Younger and someone else. I can remember his name. But he was Jessie's cousin.
So, in my dream I'm walking on this ledge, and no matter what I do; how small I try to curl up or how slow I try to move; I always fall off. And then I'm in that stupid graveyard again; the one where I was born. Freaky story, I know. My mom was visiting her (Fairly dead) mother and suddenly went into labor. And who in their right mind goes into a graveyard specifically searching for women giving birth?
But anyhow, the graveyard. I'm standing there looking at tombstones; Mike's, Joe's, Blink's, Race's, Jack's, Spec's, Pie's, and Dutchy's. The weird thing is though; I can't find Spot's. I just can't. Then I hear something behind me and I always turn around. It's like I'm looking for trouble. (I know. Me? Looking for trouble? NEVER!)
And behind me stand Morris and Oscar Delancey, and they're holding this twisted strangled Spot-esque corpse. They drop him and he disappears, then it starts to get weird. (-er) Morris picks me up and kisses me and then they carry me off somewhere to see these guys in weird black cloaks. Then I wake up.
The last few weeks have been fine. We haven't had any real serious run ins with the Neo-Nazis or any weird transformations of the Griffon or Unicorn type. Well, there's the dream; but no one knows about that.
The most interesting part was when Mike burst into my room demanding that I accompany him and everyone else to a club. And perhaps it's the whole being in an asylum think that makes me wig out, but am I not a little young to be gallivanting off to a club? I, of course, voice my opinions to Mike, who merely looks at me as if I've grown a third head. This is, however, entirely impossible, considering the fact that we all know spontaneously generating heads only generate one at a time.
"You have to go. Jack says so," Yes. Jack is so the new authority I respect. Not.
"We dug Jack out of a hole in the ground shouldn't we be giving him orders?" Mike shakes his head. Well personally I think the little shit should at least be grateful enough to not run around playing pharaoh. He does it all the time and it's really annoying.
(_(_(_(_(_(Blink's POV)_)_)_)_)
We walk into the club and I realize that Pie Eater is clutching my hand. I look up and can see why. This place is chock full of vampires.
But then again, it's called the Blood Letter, so I suppose this fact is to be expected. We headed to the bar. (Yes, all ten of us) we filled every stool except one. Every one ordered their specific beverage of choice. I noticed two vampires who seemed to be pointing at as and whispering to each other. I pointed this out to Joe who was conveniently stationed next to me. He downed the rest of his screwdriver and nodded, passing the information down the line.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later, the two stood and headed towards the bar. Spot and Jack turned on their stools as did Charlie and Mike. Those four were apparently assuming the job of ambassadors. I felt a sudden, gentle pressure on my hand and turned to see Pie place his cold appendage on mine. I nodded in what I hoped was a reassuring fashion.
The two vampires were very different as far as looks. One of them had straight, longish, blond hair and cold, crystal blue eyes. He was tall and skinny, the veins in his arms stood out. The other was also tall and skinny, but he had longer brown hair and dark, welcoming, brown eyes. The brunette flashed a crooked smile, which no one but Charlie returned.
"Oh, Michael, I'm insulted," the blonde remarked as a smirk sidled onto his features. Mike looked at him for a moment more and then his thin lipped, emotionless glance turned suddenly warm.
"Taylor? Scott?" Mike stood and Joe whirled around. The four apparently knew of each other.
"No shit," Joe began "we heard you guys pretty literally bit the dust years ago,"
"Honestly Joseph, you of all people should have more faith in us," Scott remarked. Charlie elbowed Mike.
"D'you wanna introduce us Michael," she put emphasis on the use of his full name.
"Oh, this is Taylor," he gestured to the blonde, "and this is Scott," the brunette nodded.
"I'm Charlotte," she murmured. Taylor took her hand and kissed it before falling into an extravagantly low bow.
"Taylor Hale, at your service milady," Charlie couldn't help but blush at that remark. Spot cleared his throat.
"Oh go sit on a pinecone," she turned and sent him a, in my opinion, well deserved glare. The conversation was loosened up from that point. However, while everyone else was dancing, Pie Eater and I sat at the bar discussing our relationship over the past weeks. We had kissed but once, however it seemed that there was a silent understanding between the two of us.
We exited the club in the wee hours of the morning and surprisingly no one was more than tipsy. Pie and I held back and held hands. The trip home was virtually eventless except for the fact that I was wrong about the whole tipsy thing and Spot puked in the immaculately clean-cut lawn.
(_(_(_(_(_(Specs' POV_)_)_)_)_)
It was forty-eight minutes past two when I heard it. I know because I checked the clock.
I heard running. But it wasn't footsteps inside; I could hear small feet flying through the wet grass at an astonishing speed. I crept from my room and walked down my staircase, and then to the door.
"You heard in then?" Spots voice behind me scared the absolute hell out of me, but I nodded and shoved the huge door open, stepping out onto the lawn.
"I bet Charlie can hear this," I murmured. No sooner had I spoken then she walked outside behind us with Jack.
"What is it?" She questioned. Jack took her hand in a slightly reassuring fashion.
"It's someone running," Spot replied, although I don't thing that's the whole answer, I really don't.
"Its someone running," I repeated, "From something,"
"Neo-nazis," We all heard Charlie's nearly inaudible whisper.
Suddenly, a girl cut out of the woods, followed closely by six men, all roughly half her size. The girl darted behind me and I froze still. I felt, for some reason, that I had to protect her.
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(Charlie's POV)_)_)_)_)_)_)
I wrenched my hand from Jack's grasp, fully ready to kill each and every one of them.
"What's your business with her Delancy?" Spot called across the lawn. Specs turned and told her to be neither frightened, nor mobile.
"She's our business," Oscar replied in an educated tone. Not.
"She's on our lawn," Jack called back. She shifted and placed herself in front of Specs. Bad idea.
"Well, then you can have her," Morris yelled, sending a bullet into her stomach. I winced as I felt it happen. And with all the force I possessed, I flung them all into the trees, hoping I split one or two of them in half.
(_(_(_(_(_(_( Jack's POV_)_)_)_)_)_)
"So, what do we do? We cant let her die," Specs murmured, having found his voice. I don't really blame the kid. His white shirt was already soaked with her blood. I saw her for the first time. She was a tiny little thing, with red hair and the darkest dark blue eyes I'd ever seen. Her skin was pale, her features fragile. Suddenly, I got a picture from Spot.
"Can you do that?" I questioned. He nodded.
"If we want her to live, it's our only choice," he murmured, placing a thumb and forefinger on either of her temples.
((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))
*leaps off the cliff with everyone else* Well, that was intriguing. But last chapter, because of Race *glare* you were left without your quote. So once again, I give you two.
Ma- "The good lord told be you'd be back,"
Jessie- "Yep, she's still talking to Jesus,"
Frank- "Yeah, well, what bothers me is that he's still talking back,"
Frank, Jessie, and Ma- American Outlaws.
Bill- "Well see, the Younger James gang is confusin'. Say we go in to rob a bank and we yell 'We're the younger James gang!' Folks'll be thinkin' 'is there an older James gang? How come we aint never heard of the older James gang?' Instead of puttin' their hands up.
"God. Are we even related? Is anyone listening to me? Hey listen, if I shoot you, and then I shoot you, there's no competition!"
Bill Younger and someone else. I can remember his name. But he was Jessie's cousin.