Ships In The Night || Open!!

[Julius C. Lawrence]

words;; 629 ||Outfit;; Outfit~|| Notes;; Meeehhh, depressing Julie is depressing

Sometimes he wished that death was an option.

A thought, which always struck at the wrong time, at the wrong moment but always so fitting- must be the curse of the damned, people who were forced onto immortality. Don't get him wrong- Julius knew these suicidal thoughts weren't really him talking; it was just a moment of loneliness. Sitting here on the pier, in some town on the English Isles, from his home back in the states- he called that tiny town he lived in home because everywhere else will simply be a house. Home was were his family was- but seeing the case, he wasn't with them, was he?

Really, these thoughts were brought on by the fact that he was officially taking a step of moving on. And why couldn't it be easy? He spent like- 40 or more years, away from the people he loved, as a onlooker, but now he came to terms that there was no way of going back.

So here Julius sat. On a pier, in the dying light of the sunset with his dream journal on hand as he studied the way the water sparkle in the dying light; his thoughts weren't pleasant and no where near helping with his writer blocks but that was fine. He was fine for the time being, no need to think up some story that would bring the bills but after all these years, honestly writing was the only that could really make him talk what he felt. If picked up the leather bound book- nothing made any sense; rambles of ideas, little sketches that looked as if doodled by some seven-year old, and snips of pieces of different things- sometimes he stuck in photos (of him, the places he seen, the people he met, etc.) or interesting quotes or even old news articles that he reminded him that even though the world was never going to be innocent, at least there was some humanity to be restored his faith in it. C'mon- who doesn't get a small warmed feelings at miracles, believe in or not?

Maybe he was too soft to be a vampire. Wouldn't be the first time he was called so; his ideals were too humanistic and optimistic for a being that walking on this earth for more than 70 years- too warm to be a creature that relied on the blood of others. But he manage. And now, it was time to build another bridge and get over these thoughts- the sooner the better.

He breathed in, the air felt damp as if it was going to rain any second- which was a possibility, seeing all the clouds that were gathering. Maybe he should head home soon? Before he get caught in the downpour with the pitiful transportation known as his rental bike. Eh, I'll leave sometime soon. As he studied his face in the rippling lake, noticing the little things that were off with his appearance. The brown dye in his hair was running out- the blackness of his natural hair color was showing again but he had just a little more time before he decided to continue with this habit of changing hair color or keeping the blackness.

Too absorbed with his appearance (as egoistical as it sounded)- he was zoned out from any other living person or creature that happen to be about. Not that it matter- he never really met a person who willing went up to a vampire.

[zachariah levi carter II]

Although the vampire had only been away from Northvale for a couple of months, it felt as though it'd been much longer. Zach had just passed the spring in France on what'd turned out to be a wild goose chase. Towards the end of January it'd came to his attention through a friend he had there that a lost belle had been hanging around his old residence, asking peculiar questions and inquiring about an English vampire that used to live there. Taken by his curiosity, Zach'd made the choice to travel over to the neighbouring country in a bid to find the femme because, after all, the whole situation had been bizarre at best. How often did a lady in victorian garb turn up at an old house of yours?

But, now, the vampire was back in Northvale and feeling rather disenchanted. By the time he'd arrived there, she'd gone. Where? No one seemed to know. She'd just seemed to vanish with the same ease she'd appeared one day. Zach hung around anyway for a while with the slight hope that she'd return. Plus, the time alone had been needed, being a bit of the solitary thing he was.

The willowy man hadn't yet told his partner, Alejo, of his arrival, wanting just a couple more days to enjoy his return to the town after his prolonged absence. A spot of painting seemed to be the most enjoyable way to spend the afternoon. He'd missed the many landscapes the town had to offer; Zach could paint the same view over and over again yet never would he grow bored. There always was something new to add.

Zach had spent the last couple of hours of sunlight painting with watercolours one of the poorer sections of the pier. The boardwalk was rickety and its wood warped and rotting, pieces of it was actually missing or hanging by its last splinter. Algae and barnacles crept up the supporting poles that sank into the water and clung to the hulls of the couple of cheaper rowboats that were docked here. They bobbed and knocked against the boardwalk listlessly like pieces of painted driftwood, looking like they hadn't been touched in years. It was a quiet and forgotten beauty that Zach had been eager to capture on a blank canvas; a wash of greys and dirty teal, only a splash of gaudy red or blue from the boats flaking paint or golden highlights from the setting sun to break the otherwise dreary painting.

Time had pretty much flown right by because, before Zach knew it, the sky was clouding over, his painting was away and the sun was just about set. And only then did he realize how heavy hunger was sitting in his gut. The last time he'd ate had been just before he left France - a delectable faerie had been sat so invitingly on a stone wall, her back turned to him and making it so easy. It'd only been a little bite. Just a little nibble to tide him over. Although now he was quite ravenous. Perhaps later on tonight he'd venture out and see what Northvale had to offer his palate.

Walking back along the pier, his canvas bag under his arm and easel in his backpack, Zach spotted a figure crouched over the water's edge. With a flare of his nostrils, he quickly scratched the subject out as not food. It was a fellow vampire. Definitely not food.

"May I help you?" Came Zachariah's voice, calm and almost a monotone as he stooped over the other vampire. He had no idea what'd impulsed him to approach the other male and speak but he had an inkling it'd been the lack of recent English conversation that'd done it.

outfit
words: 629

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[Julius C. Lawrence]

words;; 501 ||Outfit;; Outfit~|| Notes;; Meeehhh, depressing Julie is depressing

They say a mirror is a reflection of your true self; while he lacked one at the moment, it held a bit truth. With every pause of a ripple, a moment of where he could see himself clearly- still young, not a single hair gray, no wrinkles that should be plaguing his face, and of course, this expression that his wife use to say that looked 'like puppy left out in the rain'. But then again, he sort of felt like that. There was some comfort of cuddling with his cat back at his apartment...

But it wasn't really same.

The lake was really pretty. The waters darkening as the sun slip behind the tree line, the reflection in the water was getting harder and harder to see until it too vanished. But long after that, even, he stared- his thoughts wandered, wondering if his ex-wife ever went out to the pier back home, stare at the water and think to herself? Or maybe she moved on- the woman was always an elusive one. While a few years back, it hardly taken much strife to track down his child, his wife seem more missing- moved or dead, he wasn't sure. There wasn't a gravestone for her, but he didn't rule out death.... But if she did move on, then Julius was envious. Able to do something like that while he was stuck in the past; but then again, she was the type to do things he wouldn't dreamed doing.

Maybe that's why he chose Northvale rather some unknown, rural town in the States? To start again, maybe. But now that he was here, everything set up and all ready to press play on his life... but after those horrible years of just being a wanderer, back then he didn't have to think much- just had to find his new destination and in hindsight, maybe running away from the feeling that would eventually catch up to him?

Now he settled down. Nothing really to distract him beside his writing. Maybe friends, hopefully friends, but his main anchor of distraction would forever be his writing. At least there, its easy to be honest to himself.

Pft, I thought I outgrown the angst years. He chuckled quietly to himself, straighten up.

...Someone was here? Turning his head to the dull voice that addressed him. Well, not dull- somewhere along the lines of being.... calm yet bored? Maybe not. "Hmm?" He said, a bit distracted as he turned his gaze from that tall, pale stranger to the waters below, "Not really- why you ask? Do I look like I need help?" There was a hint of humor in his voice, but... well, the guy was a vampire from the smell- so really, he didn't have to worry? Unless this was vampire-murdering vampire or something, which he highly doubted existed.