The sun painted fire in the sky and water as it sank into the horizon. Crimson and gold and brilliant orange decorated the previously blue sky while a swirling path red-orange light reflected on the water.

Arianna had found the perfect spot to watch the sun go down. She had been wandering on the beach for a long time, lost in thought. The warm caress of the fading sun had drawn her attention to its beauty, and she had found herself almost forced to watch.

There were large rocks in her area- the shore was not a soft sand beach anymore but instead stony and covered with the sharp remains of mollusks and other such creatures. She had stepped carefully to avoid cutting her bare feet- she didn't remember taking her sandals off but she must have earlier- and then climbed onto a large boulder that jutted into the water. It had been perfect- broad and smooth and warm. Arianna had sprawled out on her stomach, chin propped up on her arms, and watched the sun slowly settle.

Her long chestnut hair pulled into a low ponytail, fastened by a thin red ribbon. She wore one of those long, full skirts that were becoming increasingly popular. It too was red. She also wore a tank top, gold in color. Her charm bracelet sparkled at her right wrist, while a mood ring decorated her left-hand middle finger. There was a thick, untanned portion of skin on her left wrist where her watch usually rested, but she hadn't put it on today.

She let her thoughts wander again- as they so often did- to all sorts of things. The novel she was reading, how she did on her exams, the sunset, back to the novel... eventually she fell asleep right there on the sun-warmed boulder.

Dusk passed to evening, evening passed to night. In fact, midnight was only seventeen minutes away, and Arianna was still asleep on the rock.

Morose hadn't come to watch the sunset. In fact, he'd not left the appartment until after sunset at all. He needed time to think, and it seemed that going to the cemeteries in this City for peace and quiet was just out of the question. More people, or things, lurked around the Bayfield cemeteries then anywhere else Morose had ever gone. The beach seemed a safer route even, then the cemetery.

So, Morose had left Jex lying in bed, sleeping away his pain and letting his body heal itself. Morose could feel Jex at just the corner of his senses, just out of reach, like seeing something in the corner of your eye but if you turn your head to look, it remains just at the edge of your vision. He could feel that Jex was peacfully sleeping, partially due to being in less pain then a week ago, partially with the help of the drugs. He could sense his body knitting itself back togather.

He had no need to pick carfully over the rocks, as he wore heavy boots that made little sound even as he walked. He wore a pair of leather pants, not a common thing for him but soemthing he'll do so often. They were comfortably loose up the legs, just barly touching his thin, long legs, and fit around his hips. His shirt was a long sleeved satin material, all of the clothing being black. The only color came from his eyes and hair and flesh, bright, bright blue lined with heavy black liner, and red, red hair, cut short all over but his bangs hung to his chest, his flesh almost as white as the moon. He'd not fed tonight. He didn't plan too.

His sensitive eyes found, first her red skirt, then her gold top, then began to fill out the body against the sand. She was alive. He could hear her blood flowing, taste the life. He could also see tide lapping at the rocks near her. He walked over, squat down, touched her shoulder with cold fingers, rubbed lightly to gain attintion.

She was distantly aware of something cold on her shoulder. Just my dog... she thought sleepily, wondering vaguely why her back was so sore. It felt like she'd been sleeping on the floor. Then, she remembered something. She didn't have a dog.

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped- consequently breathing in some sand. She coughed several times, wondering where the heck she was. Her memory worked in reverse. She remembered her dream- something about switching majors and becoming an anthropologist-, then she remembered the sunset and the beach... the beach! She was on the beach. What had that cold thing been? She turned a little and spotted a very dark figure next to her.

She pulled herself away and sat up, confused and surprised and rather damp from spray off the water. Then, quite intelligently, she said, "Huh?" All this happened in the space of perhaps five seconds.

He didn't smile welcomingly upon her wakeing. Actually, if anything, he looked very pouty and the picture idea of sad. His eyes. That's what was so sad. Yes, his thin lips were turned down at the corners, his face solumn and serious. But it was the eyes that were so sad, so, dead. He watched her recall where she was and possibly who he could be. How did he know what she was trying to recall? The look on her face said she'd forgotten where she was.

huh?

He lifted his cold, plae fingers from her skin. "Tides coming in. I expect, unless you really want to drown, you should be moving soon." The water was nearly to her now. His voice was a deep barritone, empty as it could be, and sounding rather tired.

Drown. The word sent unpleasant shivers up her spine. Eyes disappearing into the water. She shook her head slightly, swallowing the sudden sickness that welled up within her whenever she allowed herself to think about what happened that day so many years ago.

"Oh, yes... thank-you," she said, frowning a little. Her eyes travelled to her wrist, but it was naked in the moonlight- she didn't have her watch on. "Um, do you know what time it is?" she asked, standing up- a little unsteadily, as one of her feet had fallen asleep. It can't be too late... she thought, chewing her tongue. The last thing she wanted to do was walk home in the darkness.

Morose still didn’t smile. He stood and stepped back as she stood. Pressing one hand into his pocket he let the other just hang. His wrists were cuffed with big leather bands, his throat collared with a leather band, covering the punctured marks of the vampire. He stood at six feet two inches, though, he defiantly slouched profoundly in the shoulders. A lot of tall people slouch like he does.

His blue, sad eyes flicked to his wrist at her inquiring of time. No watch. He shrugged.

“Sorry,” He looked up at the sky, thought about all how long it had taken him to walk to the beach and then down the distance of it that he had. Watching the moon, his eyes flicked back to her face.

“Maybe midnight,” he guessed, “maybe later.”

"Oh shit." Walking the seventeen blocks home now would be pretty unpleasant. Especially since she was barefoot. She discovered upon standing that she had to look up in order to talk to him, as she was about nine inches shorter than him. She then glanced at the sky herself, although there was nothing to extraordinary about it. A little cloudy in the northwest, but other than that clear. Her eyes followed a shooting star. Star light, star bright, don't let me get mugged tonight, she thought, a little amused at herself.

Curiosity suddenly overwhelmed her. "What are you doing out this late? Especially at this part of the beach... it's not exactly ideal for a casual midnight stroll." She shifted her weight a little, and as if on cue a sharp fragment of shell crunched under her heel, sending a little slice of pain across it, which she chose to ignore.

"I'm not a casual person." It was his monotone voice and his serious face that made that stament sound upsetting and sad rather then flirtatious. While Morose isn't a casual person, he's not a flirter either. I doubt that he's ever flirt a day in his life.

He looked down at her feet as though he'd known the shift had hurt her. Actually, he had no clue, he'd just looked because she'd shifted. She was bare foot. He frowned and looked back up at her face. His red eyebrows made soft archs.

"Where are your shoes?"

He didn't ask why she was down here. It wasn't his business.

"You know," she began, "that's actually a good question. I don't remember taking them off. They're probably either thrown away or under the water by now."
(Under the water she was under the water when she died)
The though bubbled up in her mind, and she quickly stuffed it back down. Maybe I should start to see a pyschiatrist or something, she thought.

Shoes. She didn't have them anymore. Curse her stupid daydreaming. She then noted that he seemed rather depressed about something. Maybe he'd come down to commit suicide. Wouldn't that be a shocker to see in the paper the next day? The guy she talked to on the beach turning up dead somewhere? She frowned a little, considering this, and eyed him rather suspiciously- as though you could tell by looking at someone if they were suicidal.

Actually, Morose Riddle had become overwhelmed with suicidal thoughts in the past few months. After all, becoming a vampire had not been one of his top prioroties. Nor had killing a man or hurting his best and old friend. Both had been mistakes. Both had never ceased to leave his mind. But suicidal as his thoughts might be, he wasn't suicidal. In fact, quite the opposite. He'd come down here to think through everything. He'd finally decided there was a reason to be alive, at least, until Jex grew old and died. Then he could too.

He frowned again at her admitance that she had no clue where her shoes were. He shifted his own booted feet over the sharp rocks.

"Your feet do not hurt?"

"I wish," was her answer. She sighed, and wondered again what was depressing him so much. Being around him was starting to depress her. The fact that she'd lost her own shoes was also rather depressing.

He's frowning so much that when he gets old he's going to have those nasty saggy old people cheeks, she thought randomly, and immediatly surpressed the urge to giggle. Somehow she managed to keep a straight face. It was hard, though- suddenly the whole situation seemed funny. She lost her shoes, fell asleep, was saved from drowning by some depressed guy, and was now hanging around talking to him when she should be headed back home. Heck, she'd probably be safer if she just spent the night at the beach instead of going through the city alone.

Then, another thought came into her head- one that most people would have instantly considered, but she was a little too ignorant for it. What if this guy's some kinda serial killer or something? she thought, suddenly worried. Now it was her turn to frown.

Unfortunatly, Morose would rather get those old people saggy cheeks then what he's going to get. Take a good look at this face, on second thought, don't bother, it will never change. It will always be the same age, the same face. He'll never loose or gain weight, never get a tan, never change.

It was the first time he'd smiled, when she frowned. He could guess pretty close about what had just crossed her mind. Something about himself, a man like him, alone on the beach, now alone with a much smaller lonely woman. It couldn't be good. He didn't smile because she thought it but because she just thought of it.

The smile was just an upward, barely, twitch of the lips, more so in one corner then the other, and though you could tell it wasn't a sad smile it didn't reach his sad eyes.

"I'm Morose Riddle." His finger twitched slightly at his side, unsure if he wanted to offer his hand. He finally held up the cold, rather pale hand.

"Arianna Chevy," she replied, reaching to accept the handshake. She was still a little suspicious, and now just slilghtly confused. What had he smiled for? (If you could call it a real smile.) Was he inwardly laughing at her, as she had to him? What?

She found herself getting rather paranoid about the whole thing, and decided to ignore the crazy thoughts swimming in her head. I'm just tired, that's all, she told herself. His hand was cold, which for some reason bothered her just a little. She smiled anyway. And then, because she couldn't help it, "What's so funny?"

The smile slipped away and was replaced by that sad face again. In all honesty, though his smile was charming, Morose looked better with a solomn and serious face. This is probably because he does it so often and his smiles are out of practice. He didn't shake her hand rather then offer a light squeeze of it and release it. He retreated his cold hand immediatly to his side.

what's so funny

"I did not laugh." No, in fact, he hadn't. "You are going to walk home in this darkness?" Poor girl. Someone like me...or worse...might get her. Easy pray.

"Well, you almost kind of smiled... guess I figured that's close to a laugh," she shrugged. "And yeah, I guess I'm walking home. Might as well get started, it's kinda far." Suddenly, she felt really stupid. What kind of idiot goes and falls asleep on the beach? After losing their shoes? The tide lapped her feet so suddenly she jumped. Cool water reached out over her toes, then retracted back, only to wash forward again.

She started to walk, gingerly picking her way through the maze of shells and rocks. In the daylight it probably wouldn't have been a problem, but it was midnight or later, and the whole beach looked the same- a solid, unchanging gray. She'd only taken two small steps before she'd stepped on another shell. Perfect. After she'd cut her feet on the shells, she'd clog the cuts with sand when she crossed the beach, and then walk home barefoot through the city. "Maybe there's a 24 hour shoe store..." she muttered thoughtfully.

He smelled the tiniest of blood from the cut, the scent washing through and overriding the strong scent of salt in the air. His eys dropped to her foot almost immediatly. The water had washed up and swished around the souls of his boots.

"Would you like a hand?"

His cold hand automatically came up. A hand, with most of her weight on his arms, would keep most of the weight from her feet, from the rocks. Or he could carry her. But Morose is most certinally not a romantic and that would be a last option.

"I promise I won't bite."

It's as close to humor as he's gotten in weeks.

She considered for a moment, then accepted his offer. "Thanks," she said gratefully. "I bet you think I'm really stupid," she added, "losing my shoes like that." A sudden image popped into her head of her sandals laying underwater, little fish swimming around. She shook her head. His hand was so cold. It was a relatively nice night- warm, not too humid. Maybe he was one of those people that were always cold. Still, something unnerved her just a tiny bit.

"Do you know how far it is to the closest street?" she asked, wondering how long it'd take her to get back to the apartment.

He closed his fingers and lowered his hand to his side, bringing himself level with her. He then almost immediatly raised his hand slightly, letting a lot of her weight rest into his hand. He shook his head and began to walk beside her.

"No. Possibly just really forgetful but not stupid." Stupid is letting your only friend go out alone and get attacked and nearly die, he thought sourly. Self-loathing. He then nodded to her question. "Yes, Up the beach, across the boardwalk and parking lot. Theres a bus stop there," he added gently. "Or I could call a cab for you." Just so you don't walk alone.

"Oh you really don't have to do that," she replied. Walking was much easier now- and faster. The hard shells were starting to decrease in number as well, signaling that smooth sand was to follow. And maybe even her shoes. "I'll probably be fine walking, most of the neighborhoods are pretty decent." Actually, walking even had an appeal now. She rarely walked the city at night- would it be empty? Or would there still be people milling around, finishing up the night shift or leaving the Broadway-style musicals? "This is really nice of you, by the way," she added, refering to his helping her.

"It doesn't hinder me in the least," to help you, he brushed off her reply. He continued to let most of her weight onto his hand until shell and rock stopped crunching under the soles of his boots, signleing that the sand was now smooth.

He was nearly certian now that she scarcly or never walked home in the dark in this city alone, unless she lived nearby. He rasied a red brow for emphasis as he let her weight fall back onto herself and unwound his fingers from her hand and waited for her to do the same.

"You hardly walk home alone after dark." He made it a statment rather the question. "At this hour there are a lot of..." things "strange people out there."

She let go of his hand as well. "I go through good neighborhoods," she protested, but could understand where he was coming from. Even the best neighborhoods could turn foul after dark. Really, she thought, he's a pretty nice guy to help a complete stranger. She glanced up at him briefly, then looked ahead again.

Was there someone else on the beach up ahead? Or was it a garbage can or abandoned umbrella? It was too dark to see, but there was a shape up there. Probably some homeless guy, she decided. Hey, maybe he found my shoes.

Hey, maybe he found your shoes and is now wearing them. Morose's unwanted excellent vision could make out that what was ahead of them. Unwanted vision because it was a perk to being what he didn't want to be. He wouldn't say anything until she asked because frankly he'd rather ignor exactly what his skills are and aren't.

"There's no such thing as good neighborhoods after dark. Do you have money, I could hail a cab for you."

He really doesn't want her attacked because he didn't try hard enough. He doesn't need something else, or someone elses life or death, on his mind.

She shook her head. "I don't carry a lot of money on me- I spent most of it on some ice cream earlier. Or maybe it was a pop. Or a float. I don't remember. But I have-" fumbling in a well concealed pocket of the skirt "-fourteen cents left." Not enough for anything. "Really it's fine. I don't want to bother you. You probably have better things to do than hail a cab for a stranger." She smiled as if that was the end of it, conversation closed. Inside, however, she doubted it actually was. Her feet hurt.

He almost smiled, it was almost bitter.

"Not anymore I havn't." Actually, he'd never had much to do with his life besides look for Andrew's body and take care of Jex. One of whom wasn't going anywhere, the other sleeping soundly right now due to drugs. He watched her dig in her pockets.

"That won't do you any good." Morose would have had money, except, he didn't carry it in these pants. Too tight for his wallet. "I will walk you. If you do not feel intimidated by it." straight forward kind of guy.

"Uh...." She thought for a minute. There was still the possibility that he was some kinda creep. She wasn't one to judge books by covers, but he looked a little like he might be a creep. The again, he seemed nice so far. "If it's not a problem for you I wouldn't mind," she said finally. She was actually kind of grateful- while walking home would give her time to think, it also gave time for pyschos with daggers (or whatever) to "get" her.

"I live, like, seventeen blocks away though," she said. "You don't have to come all the way if you don't want too. I don't mind." In fact, she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted him to know where she lived- there was always the possibility of him being a creep. Somehow, though, she doubted it. They had almost reached civilization again...

He had a feeling she was uneasy about this so he took a, maybe unnoticable, step sideways and away from her, placing distance between them. He was already a monster. He didn't need people thinking he was a stalker too. So, in his pockets his hands went, slouching a little more. And now he's looking about as innocent as a six foot two inch tall, red haired, vampire in leather can possible look.

"Seventeen blocks. That's not too bad." He said it like it didn't matter in the least. "It's a good ways. What brought you so far?"

"Oh, I dunno. I like coming here sometimes. I took a cab here.... kinda forgot to save money for a ride back." She smiled a little at her own stupidity. "I like just...walking around. Thinking. What brings you here?" She noticed his slouch and smiled a little.

||Sorry it's not very good. Uh, I'm braindead right now.||

"Unbelieveably similar to your own reasons," he replied. "I like the silence. There aren't many places in this city to spend some time alone anymore." Meaning once upon a time there had been, or at least, he'd been ignorantly blissful if there hadn't been any then either.

((I don't mind if you don't mind an equally as short reply))

Hearing the conversation echoing from inside his cave, Octavious wakes up and ventures towards the voices. Poking his head out of the cave tring to catch a glimpse of the sources of these voices without being discovered. He gasps as he lays eyes on beautiful female human and a vampire.

She nodded in agreement. The quiet was nice. Maybe a little too nice, really- it made going back to the "real world" that much harder. She wished she'd stayed awake and gotten to see the rest of the sunset. And that she still had her shoes. "You sure you don't mind going there? I mean if it's out of the way from your own home you don't have to come if you don't want to," she said, looking at him. She then noticed the sky (as she had to look up half a foot to talk to him, seeing the sky at the same time was not too difficult). The stars were fading... no, they were being covered by clouds. A faint breeze picked up along the beach, scattering litter out of overflowing trash bins.

"It is out of my way." A very blunt man he happens to be. I think Morose has been this way his entire life. After all, beating around the bush never got you anywhere. You only waist your time running in circles around a bush that in the end gets revealed anyways. Why not cut the crap and get to the point?

"But it's a good thing." His eyes dropped to her briefly before returning directly in front of him. "I need something to occupy my time. Walking you there is good company and walking home provides me with the free time that I was seeking anyways." He glanced upward, then outward towards the lights of the city. "Of course, If you do not want me to walk with you I won't push the issue anymore."

"Oh I don't mind," she said truthfully, having decided he wasn't going to get all creepy on her. She was a little -shocked? impressed?- by his bluntless. She herself was a beat-around-the-bush type person. It was hard to decide if bluntness was rude or just informative. "So," she said casually, "what do you do when you don't have free time, like where do you work?" Conversation would be nice- it was a relatively long walk home.

It depends on the situation. In this case, Morose found his bluntness informitive. In some cases, it is rude. He doesn't care. He has the decancy to apologize if it is rude but he'll still say it. As she claimed she didn't mind, he nodded once, reaching up and pushing back long bangs from his face.

"I always have free time." He didn't look at her. "Actually, I usually have free time. I take care of a friend, he was sick when I met him so I've..nursed him for a long time. Now he's hurt. I only leave latly when he's asleep. I don't work," to answer he question. "I inherited from a great aunt and I don't need a lot of money to live on so we get by."

Plain and simple. The life story of his past two years, excluding any unneeded information and the fact that about halfway through that story he was bit and turned blood-sucker. If she wants more she'll have to ask. Not beating around the bush, just answering exactly what she asked without additional information.

"What about you?" It's not a question Morose would usually ask but if they're going to walk for seventeen blocks, conversation wouldn't be as awkward as silence.

She felt sympathy for him regarding his friend, but decided not to push that matter as it might cause... tension.

What about you?

"I don't work. Not yet. I'm looking for a summer job, because I'm still going to school," Arianna replied, brushing some of her own hair out of her face. "I'm going to be a lawyer," she added. Hopefully, she thought to herself, thinking about the final exam. The results would be mailed in a few days, and she felt mildly queasy.

"A lawyer...are you interested in the law or do you like to argue?" It sounded like he'd said it in humor. And he had, though the humor couldn't break through his sad eyes or crack a smile over his lips. His eyes shifted then and his red eyebrows formed a frown. He put a hand out, his arm stretched across where her chest would be if she continued to walk.

Morose had just watched somthing move at the corner of his vision, he turned towards whatever it might be, his eyes no longer sad but intent. Was it only a bum, awakened by their voices?

(I was going to let Octo post first, Erin, but they PMed me and requested I notice Octavious so that his entry post would be easier.)