Sketch of a Fae Starry Night (Open)

[Aviana]

To any that knew her before coming to this city, they would have looked upon Aviana and thought it just a typical night for the young artist. Yet so much had changed now, and the woman could not help but wondered many things. Would anyone from her old life even believe what she was capable of now? There were even still moments that she surprised herself. The life of a vampire was nothing compared to what fiction had painted it to be. She was always learning something new, and it was usually a struggle. It had been over six months since she had seen or heard from the vampire who had turned her. Aviana had gotten past the point of anger towards the man, she knew absolutely nothing about him. In her mind Avi had settled upon the idea that she was simply a mistake, one best left forgotten. She had gotten the impression once that he had tried to get rid of her. Avi kept her distance and none else connected to him had tried to kill her. Perhaps out of sight was just as good as dead, in this case. She couldn’t help but wonder how things could have gone different, had she been turned by a different sire. One who would have taught her the ways of this new life, versus being shoved out into the world to learn and figure it out alone.

Not that she had not met other vampires, the few she had become acquainted with had been very helpful in many ways. Though Avi was not there responsibility, they had not been the ones who chose to turn her. It just didn’t feel right to bother them with her endless curiosities of vampire life. She also had no desire to seek out the one who had turned her, she refused to beg for guidance from someone who wanted nothing to do with her. This all resulted in a quiet life, one fueled by her developing antisocial behavior. It was easy to be alone, though it was also depressing to be alone. Keeping busy helped, she lost herself in her art most nights. Work and training were other forms of distraction. Tonight she had decided upon a little fresh air. To take to the city for inspiration and sketch a few things to go on to paint upon canvas back at her apartment. It was something she had done often, and had created many works inspired by the city of night. Some of them she would add in colors of a sun set in the backgrounds. Swirling warm colors, all drawn from memories of the few she could remember from the city when she had still been human.

As Avi walked from the sanctuary building then, she carried a sketch book, and a navy knit bag hung from her shoulder. It carried various sorts of art supplies she might need, among other things. The young vampire had learned quickly, and on many occasions the hard way, to be ready for anything in this city. It was the cause for her constant seclusion as of late. Far easier to keep to herself, only venturing out to work or train. Even then, those endeavors were mostly done in solitude. Avi found it was the noise that mostly got to her. Never would she imagined it to be such a curse, to hear too much. This, the main reasons for the ear buds pressed into her ears. A loud, seamless never ending stream of music played, a mix of just about everything. The trancing melody of Beethoven’s piano sonata no. 14 currently played. The familiar notes would be paired with each step placed along the sidewalk. Nothing existed but this sound in the moment and her destination in mind. Avi headed in the direction of the Wickbridge station, her mind would drift to nothing but her destination. She had recently been able to bind a location to a home bound tome. Exploring was so much easier now, and she never had to worry about getting lost, when home was just a tome away.

Avi would travel then to the Newborough station, and would take to walking once again. She headed southwest, following the road to where she knew the buildings would thin out. The area in mind looked out over the water and wilderness. As she drew further from the congestion of buildings, she would catch a better sight of the stars that hung in the clean night sky. She stayed to the road as the wilderness came into sight. Avi knew oh too well the dangers that lurked there, and she wished only to admire it from afar. Moving then, the woman would settle upon a bench that conveniently lingered under the light of a street lamp. Pulling out the ear buds, she appreciated the cold silence for a moment. The artist set to work then, pulling the bag from her shoulders and setting the sketch pad aside for the moment. Rummaging through the knit bag, a thin carved wooden box would be pulled out. Inside it held several different graphite pencils, one would be plucked from the many before the box was tucked back into the bag. The sketch pad would be taken back in hand, and only after a blank page was found would her eyes linger out into the night.

The stars were bright, and she made note of all the constellations she recognized. The moon was a waning gibbous, its light shinned brightly and Avi imagined the last full moon must have been quite a sight. She took her time, taking in the view. Following from the night sky, to the surrounded landscape that was cast in darkness. Only the light of the moon gave a hint to what was before her. It was quite beautiful, the way the moonlight played off the water, the way it danced against the trees, grass and shrubbery. Only once she could close her eyes and still almost picture it perfectly within thought, would she take to sketching what she could see. The drawling was extremely detailed, a near perfect replication of what her eyes took in. Though the painting she would do later would likely be much different. She had always favored the impressionist styles of painters such as Vincent Van Gogh or Monet. Finding the flow of near abstract color alluringly beautiful. Avi held her own spin on the style, though still it was clear who her favored influences were.

For the moment she was lost, drifting happily away with each press of her pencil. At moments she would smudge her pinkie finger in small circles to blend the graphite along parts of the drawling, shading parts to create depth to the work. Looking up to take in the muse of the night, she would catch sight of a Fae. It was a wispy figure, and for a moment she stiffened where she sat. Reminding herself that it was quite away out and that she was safe where she was. Was anyone ever truly safe in this city though? Avi shook the fear and went back to sketching, working the image of the Fae into her sketch. She would add other things that were not in view, but she imagined them to be for her sketch. Such as the small white rabbit that she would draw near the water’s edge. She began placing extra detail into everything, not something she could see within the darkness of the night, but it added depth to the sketch. With a press of her pencil the graphite tip would break as she thought she had heard something come from behind her. Avi would glance around as she set the sketch pad down in her lap. “Hello?” A single word shared hardly above a whisper

[Otis (DELETED 7571)]

Otis liked the green. He liked the splash of earthen colors, even though they hid a darker threat to what he was now. Even though it would never be to him what it once was. A place, a refugee. Now the wilds beyond the city were like criss-crossed wires, the fence to his prison. They were still very beautiful for prison walls. Much as he wanted to reach out as he did before, he’d seen through others eyes what lay out there. Only glimpses, of course, but enough to convince even his wandering feet not to go that far. There was nothing out there for him. The fae didn’t need his help.

It was quiet, though, out here. Not quiet enough, no. Nowhere was ever quiet enough, but out here he could pull together more of himself, away from the prying demands flying through one subconscious to another, and the maddening ring of electronic signals. This was limbo, true as can be. A place between one hell and the next, between the mental and the physical. He could almost see the lines where one faded into the other, and that thin space between where lines were blurred and the closest thing to peace could be obtained. Here, hidden pressed in the shadowy grove of a tree, safe in the folds like a mothers embrace, he could almost lose himself in the basic levels of the Vathiá with less fear. He couldn’t draw himself fully into it, of course, but he could see it’s edges like the precipice of an uncharted land. It was.. Comforting, somehow.

Rolling his head, Otis found his lips working, picking up snippets of random thoughts like one turning the dials of a radio at random. “Eyes crinkling, weight lifting, desperate to forget. Bubbling, crawling to the surface, shaking, trembling, laughing, forgetting. Wide awake, sheets soaked in sweat, gripped tight. Shapes in the shadows, gripping, inviting. Mommy, don’t let them take me. Not real, she says, but they are, she just can’t see them like I do. Kick the can, cracks like a gun shot. Don’t think about guns. Shiny, slim, deadly, doesn’t fit, awkward in my palm. Don’t want to kill her, see the blood, but he’ll kill me if I don’t. Pulling the trigger, can’t hear, but can see. Slide the king in the boot, smile, never has a clue, so gullible. The man’s angry, so he drinks, but the drink makes him angrier. Shoes crunching, eating up the grass, lines like magic forming what the eye sees. The dagger glints in the light, closer, impossibly unreal, but too real, singing for blood, singing in the air-”

Otis shrank back, covering his head with his hands. In moments he’d sunk to the ground, curled as small as he could make himself. He didn’t remember making a sound, but he must have, because he was sure something had heard him. Not to mention that same something called out, a voice soft and feminine, wary in it’s whisper, but clear enough to be heard. He didn’t remember the bench, sitting a good distance away, having an occupant, but it did now. Slowly, carefully, Otis uncurled himself. It would, from anothers perspective, be quite eerie in the way he uncurled, pulling himself from the shadows of the tree that had hidden him. Not to mention how not a bit of skin was visible. The old duster, heavy, hid his arms as well as the rest of his clothes. The gloves covered the flesh of his hands, and the soft, warm face mask hid everything up to the bridge of his nose. His eyes might have been visible, but the pulled up hood left it in shadows. The only thing that indicated anything lived under all that cloth was a few locks of silver hair that crept of from the shadows, hanging like spiders webs in front of his face.

Upright at last, he began to shuffle closer. Her voice had been so sudden, it had shocked some clarity into the muddle of his mind for the moment. A rare moment these days, it seemed. “Hello..” he answered, his voice soft as a winter breeze. Heavy boots ate up the leaves underfoot with a crunch that was louder than their voices. He stopped a few steps away, close enough he could have reached and touched her face. Instead he simply shifted from foot to foot, shoulders hunched forward and hands digging at each-other, as if he itched to do something with them but didn’t know what. Dazed gray eyes were visible this close up, peering at her, yet past her, and then away and down to the bench, as if they too couldn’t stay still. Heavy bags hung beneath those eyes, and around that, flesh pale and twitching. Nothing about him was stationary, it seemed. “It’s night..” Such an obvious comment, spoken soft and as if it were a very important fact to be noted now.

[Aviana]

Avi’s bright eyes lingered out over to where she had heard the sound. One she could not guess to the cause. Perhaps it was just paranoia, that to finally be surrounded by such silence, her mind seemed incapable of tolerating such. Was it possible her mind could stir up such sensations? No, she refused to believe such a thing. She had lost so much in life and unlife already. Her sanity was something the young vampire had to cling too. Sitting frozen still on the bench, the slight breeze of the night blew a few stands of her hair to block her view for a moment. This caused her to break the stillness, as her free hand would brush the locks aside. Her gaze still locked in the same direction. It had been then that she had caught sight of something. A hooded figure…. Was it a fae? Avi had heard that they could take on several forms. The uncertainty shook her, and the grip held on the graphite pencil would tighten a little too hard. It would break within her hold, and was just enough to snap her back to the reality of her surroundings.

The artist watched as the unknown figure approached. It was surprising then to hear the single spoken word. Fae could not communicate? Could they? The hello, felt almost to be an echo of her own, the voice sounded male. The figure drew closer then, only stopping just a few steps from her within reach. It should not have made her feel uncomfortable, but something about the mystery of who was before her brought the feeling upon her. So much of the man was covered, leaving only a small glimpse of his eyes, the pail color of his skin and the few strands of his fair colored hair. She could have gotten lost in the artistic detail of a person, as if her eyes could take in every inch of a person. Yet it was his words that held her attention in thought. It’s night? What did he mean by saying such? The way he had shared the fact, felt as if it could hold some form of a deeper meaning. Perhaps to him it did?

Finding her own voice then, Avi would ramble observations she could make herself, though they held no true untold meaning. ”That it is night, but the light of the waning moon is quite bright. Its light dances amongst the stars this clear evening. Quite a beautiful quiet sight to behold. Would you not agree?” Her words were shared with a similar soft tone as the one he had used, when he had spoken. She held both a curiosity of the man hidden, as also a slight fear lingered. She still knew not what to trust within this city, where often things were not what they seemed. A fact that often left her questioning everything and everyone. The true question of this moment then, was this man something to fear and fight, or was he to be some new acquaintance to be acquired by fate? In time all was always told, so she would simply have to wait as this meeting would play out further. Was it wrong to wish for the better? She was so tired of always expecting the worst in this city.

In hopes of encouraging a friendly greeting, Avi would have a small smile play upon her lips. Her eyes would drift from the covered man, moving to linger up at the blanket of stars that covered the night sky. It was a breathtaking sight to behold, the countless number of them. Not that she needed to breathe any more. So in a way becoming a vampire, in itself, had literally been breath taking. A fact she had not considered much before, but hardly had reason to see that as fully being a meaningful thing yet. Maybe in time, given reason, she could come to appreciate the now breathless life she lived.

[Otis (DELETED 7571)]

There was, in response, a long moment of silence. Then, like a band pulled to tight, the moment of clarity was broken and snapped. He tipped, rather alarmingly, to the left, then steadied himself. “One.. Two.. Three.. Counting stars, wishing for years, but wishes don’t come true. A dancing candle, it swings like a ballerina. Why won’t he let me go? The father doesn’t trust her, she thinks, but it’s them he doesn’t trust. Doesn’t want his little girl hurt, knows they’re bad, because he was bad. Hurt the woman he loved, doesn’t want her hurt, such a simple, fragile thing. Love breaks like a dropped glass, broken shreds cutting, bleeding..” He made a small, sickly sort of groan and hung his head forward. For the moment he was still, but the moment passed, as moments often do. “Yes.. Beautiful..” he mumbled, almost as an afterthought, but not once did he actually raise his head to look at the stars. Instead he stared out, across the wilds, fixed on the fae glimpsed earlier.

“It speaks in ways that are wrong, wrong to me, but not to them, but it’s hungry. Watching, daring, laughing, beckoning. Dare to come out, and it will feed on you... Foolish fanged feeble fledglings are nothing but toys...” The fae seemed to twist about with his words, and then Otis dropped his gaze so fast he pulled a muscle in his neck, and had to poke and dig under his hood for a while before he could move his head without pain. “Digging, feeding... I need a bird.” The comment was as sudden and out of place as his first, to an almost comedic effect.

Without waiting for permission, or even asking, he made his way around the bench and perched on a free edge, as far as space allowed from the girl. His heels clung to the lip, toes towards the ground, and he rocked forward so that his backside never touched the metal. It was a curious posture, as well as quite the show of balance. “Peck, peck, peck, peck..” he muttered, nearly fifty times under his breath. With every 'peck' his finger scratched the front of his right knee, each time harder than the last until the scent of blood filled the air. Then he stopped, and rocked in place. "It was supposed to be quieter, here... it is but... not enough..." Another pause. "You were drawing.. I interrupted.. Sorry."

[Aviana]

Silence lingered, one laced with anticipation of curiosity held for the hooded figure. Suddenly the man seemed to lose his footing, and Avi would reach out a hand for a moment, as instinctively she went to stand. Though he steadied himself, and Avi would just settle upon the bench once again. Her eyes held to him though as be began to speak, but nothing said seemed to make any sense. She had a suspicion of something then, and through appraisal she was able to sense a few things about the stranger before her. He was a vampire and a telepath such as herself. Were those thoughts of others that he was rambling? Aviana knew first had how overwhelming those could be at times. Or perhaps it was more than that.

She watched as his ramblings came to an end, and his head would hang forward for a moment. She didn’t dare move, or speak but rather watched him closely for a quiet moment. When he finally spoke then, it was almost as if he had jumped back to whatever sort of conversation they had been having. She could not help but notice he didn’t look up at the night sky. Following his gaze then, she would catch sight of the fae from before, and she listened as the man continued speaking. She knew firsthand the trouble they could be. She tried not to think too into that though, the memories of the pain almost made it real all over again.

Her attention had quickly returned to the man, and it would seem he had done something to his neck perhaps. She had been about to inquire about such, but he had spoken then, but not on what she would have expected. ”A bird?” Asked as if she was questioning if she had heard him correctly. Not pressing any further, she would reach for her pencil case as the hooded figure had a seat. Opening the case, she would exchange the broken for a new one. Listening as the man muttered a pecking sound under his breath.

As he spoke to her again, she would glance over to him sympathetically. ”I find there is no such thing as true silence anymore… Just what can be done to block out the unwanted noise.” Shared as she looked down to what she had sketched, her hand moving over the paper that had once been blank, but now held a gray and white image of the city’s wilderness. “Oh its fine, I find company can sometimes help block out the background noise a little.’ Avi had found many distractions herself. Such as music, or getting lost in her art. It didn’t always work, but sometimes was just enough.

[Otis (DELETED 7571)]

Otis had been briefly surprised when she’d reached to steady him. Most recoiled, hated the thought of touching him. Nobody willingly held out their hand with the intent to touch him. Probably because of the smell. One didn’t hold house to a party of corpse-devouring insects without some sort of odor, though he did cover as much as he could with cloth and soap. “A bird,” he repeated as she asked. After she spoke, he rocked forward and spoke in return. That was often how conversations worked after-all. Minus the rocking, perhaps. “They eat. Feathers, soft as silk. Claws and beaks to dig them out. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. Cleans them, makes them less. I can’t dig like a bird.” As if to prove his point he shrugged off his gloves and started to scratch his palm with a cracked but clean nail, digging until something squirmed underneath, running along his wrist and diving under his sleeve. “They’re too fast for me..”

He tapped the reddened flesh of his palm with the same finger and leaned to the side, watching her work on the page. “Noise..” he mumbled, looking from the page to her face in a sort of intense concentration, as if he couldn’t survive missing a single detail. “Yes.. So much noise. So much need, begging and pleading. Help. They want help. So many of them want help, too many to aid. Like a raging rapid...” He ducked his head and began to rock again. “Pulling, churning, white and frothing, forcing me under, can’t breath, can’t see, nothing but noise. So loud it’s silent. Pain, lashing my side, darkness pressing in, need air... Silence.” He froze, then ducked his head farther. “She’s dead.” He stated this softly, but with a sort of distance one said of any fact that bore no emotional attachment. Like the weather.

[Aviana]

The young artist felt lost in the man’s words, as if grasping to understand what he was talking about. He had mentioned the bird yet again, but this time had explained his reasons in a way for wanting a bird. She had been lost up until the very end, when he had removed his glove. Her eyes seemed unable to turn away, watching as he had scratched at his palm. Something had moved, under the skin and she shivered a moment just imagining what that must feel like. What was that?! She didn’t ask, but could guess as to what was crawling under his skin that a bird could dig out with its beak. ”Is that the only way to be rid of them? To dig them out?’ the question just sort of slipped and she instantly regretted it. She couldn’t take back the words now though. Avi had never heard of such a thing happening to a vampire. Though she was still young, she had none helping her understand everything of the city. It was very certain they were a numerous number of things that she didn’t know about vampires.

He spoke once again, but in regards to the noise. Some of it she grasped, and some left her curious yet again. ”I have never noticed those needing help before, though I try mostly to block it all out. Sometimes it reminds me of TV static, only very very loud. The type where every once in a while a signal will catch making something discernable, but not enough to be understood if you don’t concentrate on it.” Any other time she would have added, if that makes an sense, to the end. Yet Avi got a feeling that the man was the type to understand such things, even if to any other it might have sounded like the rambles of a riddle. She had made a mental note to herself. One about adding the hooded man to her drawling later, maybe even have a bird be perched upon his shoulder. Nothing pirate like, not a parrot, though perhaps a raven. Yes, that would fit well with the mystery of the hooded figure.

[Otis (DELETED 7571)]

Otis thought about her questions, and answered them in the same puzzling order he did many things. It was as if the order of their asking meant little. Time meant little. His mind muddled and tossed it around regardless. Instead of answering her question immediately, he spoke on what she had said. “It comes with a choice. Block it, pass it by, keep yourself, don’t collect two-hundred dollars. Or take it in, absorb it, let it fill you up until there isn’t any you anymore. You aren’t you, you are just it. It leaves pieces, it needs to leave pieces to keep you interested. It can’t make you a servant, not completely. It’s always a choice. It has to make room, though, or it can’t be used. I don’t know if I chose. I don’t know... I just am. Can hear it, it comes, it goes, too fast, can’t always catch them in time. Raven, black bird, black as night, glossy, here again. Pretty bird comes for the treats and leaves the coins. They fed them, always fed them, every time. The birds brought the lense back, left it in the birdbath with all the other odd things.” He smiled, and it was such an odd thing the way it showed in the corners of his eyes, the rest hidden by the cloth of his facemask. Then it was gone, and he was rocking again.

“They don’t know it’s wrong. They think the flesh is dead, free to eat. They don’t know any better. Such a quiet voice, but they all think together. I’ve tried to take them out, but they grow too fast. They can’t be taken out, not all, but a bird.. A bird is fast and hungry. They won’t all leave, but they’ll be enough... I can take it off if the bird eats them.. Then they won’t smell so bad. They won’t be so many. They won’t be seen. Too many, too easy to-” Suddenly he broke off, and silence remained. Where Otis had been, for a full minute he suddenly wasn’t anymore. And then, sixty seconds later he was there again, rocking back and forth and speaking as if he’d never vanished. “-see. Need to lessen them, see?” He turned, staring at her and still for a second. Yet he wasn’t quite still. Like an old television, or someone blinking really fast, here and there he would seem to vanish. Only for split seconds, but enough to be noticed.

[Aviana]

The moment the hooded man spoke once more, she thought he had been answering her first question. Her thoughts turning over the words, the moment he spoke them. Avi would quickly become lost, collect two hundred dollars? It can’t make you its servant? Though she would quickly decipher that he had been speaking about helping people. At least, she was not quite sure, as his words had flowed into mention of a bird. She wanted to question, to pick apart his words in an attempts to understand. A feeling told her that only more questions would surface from such, and she would hold her tongue from voicing her curiosities for the moment. The young vampire noticed something, a look held in the man’s eyes. If she had to guess, it was possible he had smiled for the moment, but that wasn’t certain.

Unmoving, she sat, drawn into the sound of his voice and the words he shared. There had to be a way to be rid of them? How did such a thing even happen? Could something like this possibly happen to her? With a bird, the man could possibly be closer to what could feel normal. It was imaginable, to fathom what it would feel like to have something inside, always moving and living. The hooded man spoke on, though his words were cut short as he had vanished right before her eyes. Instinctively Avi would jump to her feet and glance around cautiously. ”Hello?” a single word, that called out to him in the night, but there was no answerer.

Where had he gone? Maybe someone had summoned him? Avi had been summoned only a few times, and it was a concept she still had yet to grasp an understanding of. This thought was pressed out of her mind, the moment she took her seat back upon the bench. She would be startled with surprise as the man had reappeared. His speech hinted that he possibly had no idea to his disappearance. He continued with the conversation, not even missing a beat. Still, something wasn’t quite right. He was sitting on the bench, but in a way it was almost as if he were not completely there. ”How are you doing that? It’s almost like your very existence is flickering? ” So much of the moment had her questioning her own sanity and the reality of the moment. Was he real? She had never had any form of hallucinations before but the reality of the man, who sat not far from her, just seemed almost unbelievable.

[Otis (DELETED 7571)]

The moment she’d brought his existence to attention, the flickering ceased. Perhaps it was some sort of trick, but not all the variables thus far led to such an assumption. He followed her gaze to his own self, and began to move off the bench so that he too was standing. “Flickering? Existence, flickering, like he’s not even there. Half in, half out, where does it lead? What lies on the other side? I don’t know, I never know. You see me, so I must exist, right? They see me. Or are they all seeing what they want to see, afraid to believe what they see isn’t what is to be seen? Do I exist?”

He looked back up at her, and a sort of desperation flickered in his eyes. He wanted, it seemed, to know so desperately if he was merely a delusion of others minds, or if he truly held some manner of solidity in the world. It was hard, so hard, to form an understanding of himself when so much of him was erased. Few thoughts belonged to him, when so many that moved through his mind took up the space. He couldn’t even seem to rely on his physical being, when he saw through others eyes the way he never really remained for long. These thoughts pressed in a sort of shapeless mass of emotion, strong enough for just that brief second to perhaps be picked up by the fellow telepath, if luck allowed.

Then they were gone, as was his gaze, and he was staring out at nothing. All that was his own never lasted, as if he himself were just a tool of the world, and of the shapeless will of those that occupied it. “The builder never calls the wrench his friend, but so much of his work depends on it. Turning, twisting, the tool never complains, never happy or sad to be used. The wrench is nothing, and the builder thinks nothing of it. The people in the building think nothing of it. The man with the paycheck thinks nothing of it. When the wrench breaks...”

Silence.