;;S i n g T h e S o r r o w

[Ava Poe]

The pale female sat in the corner of the graveyard, her legs to the side and her back against a cold tombstone. Her thin fingers traced the letters on the stone which she rested against. A sigh was emitted from her pale pierced lips as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back until her bleached blonde hair touched the damp stone. Her grey eyes were surrounded by heavy black eyeliner, and her several nose piercings shone in the dim light of the moon. She was clad in almost all black today; longsleeve form fitting shirt, kneelength skirt, and black laceup boots. Even her fingernails were painted black. Perhaps the only part of this girl's attire that wasn't black was the lace cloak that she wore. It was fastened at her chest and spread out around her, so she looked somewhat from Renaissance.

Now, you may be asking, what was a solitary girl doing sitting in a cemetery at midnight? She was just.. sitting. That's all. Sitting and listening to the night. She knew that she must have looked horribly out of place here. But she felt comfortable here. Sure, maybe this girl was gothic. Maybe she was a druggie. Maybe she was schizophrenic. Maybe she was paranoid. And maybe she thought she was a vampire. None of that really mattered. She just felt at ease here amongst the dead. eerie, perhaps, to most. But not to her. No, not to this girl. The tiny figure huddled against the headstone felt at home at this spot. Maybe it was that none could critique her. None could lable her. None could insult her. None could frighten her. None could hurt her. They were all dead. Gone.

The peace and quiet was just what this girl needed. She needed a break from her 'aunt'. A break from school. A break from everything. She just needed to relax away from everything she knew. To come to a place that actually knew her. She didn't know what would, or could, happen in the cemetery. All that she knew was that, if given the choice, she would stay here. Not forever, no, but for a while. If anybody came along, the tiny gothic girl would probably not know what to do. I mean, who else hangs around a graveyard at midnight? None known, admittedly. This figurine was the only one. The only one like herself. The only known soul to grace these grounds with no purpose whatsoever other than to just sit. She wasn't planning on saying anything, or even doing anything. Just to sit here in the far corner by this headstone, tracing her fingers over the engravings over, and over, and over, and over, again.

Perhaps she wouldn't mind some company on this cold, lonely night. As long as they weren't one of.. them.. she was fine. she had no friends in this tiny, pathetic town. She had no one to talk to, interact with, anything. All she had was her aunt, and even she ignored this poor girl. Did she notice when her neice came home with a new tattoo? Not one bit. Did she notice when the young girl walked in the door all beaten and bruised? Not at all. Did she notice when this female didn't even return at all? Not one bit. This tiny girl was all alone in this vast, wide world. Nobody cared for her. Nobody helped her. Nobody spoke to her. She was completely alone. And terrified.

After a while she noticed something odd towards the other end of the graveyard. She couldn't tell what it was, other than it was a shadow of some sort. No, not one of the shadows that was out to get her. This shadow seemed.. friendly almost. Odd, yes, but true. It swooped and dove, soared and dipped, twisted and turned, untill it was only feet away from the girl. Circling around her slowly, it appeared as if it was examining her. Could it really be a friendly shadow? One that wasn't hostile and vile? One that didn't want to kill her? Could it be..? She slowly streatched out her arm, reaching out to touch this friendly being. She was a mere inch or so away when it disappeared. Gone, just like that. Sighing slightly, she let her arm fall back to her side. It would never come back. Never. And even if it did, it was probably just another hallucination. Just like all the others except.. they seemed so real. This just was so warm and friendly that it seemed too good to be real. But still, she couldn't help but wonder what drove it away. Had something, or someone, scared it off? The onle people here were dead. And they couldn't come back to life. That was impossible, but it would be rather neat. And a zombie wouldn't scare off a shadow. Knowing those things, they would be interested in something of that sort.

And anyway, when you're dead, you're dead.

[Ace Madison]

(ooc:hey, real bored tonight so..yeah. If you wanna rp with me I'd give you cookies... =^-^=)

He had to be crazy..well, off-color to say the least. Who came to the cemetary to speed-ball? Of course, this was Ace and society's norms never sat well with him. He was all for gays, libertarians, freedom of expression, satanism..a silent chuckle played on his full, pierced lips. A balmy wind encircled him, making his trenchcoat flap about. Stopping near a rather large, elaborate tomb of an angel holding open a bible he pulled out a bag of sticky reefer and some rocking cocaine, he placed this upon the stone along with his blue glass bowl. Slowly his bright blue eyes looked up at the moon, the silvery rays caressing his aristocratic features marred by multiple piercings. Suddenly feeling rather at peace sence moving here he flung his arms out to the side and spun in a circle under the lunar exhibit that seemed to be only for him. Cemetaries didn't bother him the slightest in fact he was compelled by the mystery of death and beyond. The paranormal fascinated him, not to mention the fact he was a spiritual satanist. People didn't understand that satanism wasn't about sacrafice and evil..it was about opening your mind, becoming more knowledgeable through meditations. Running his fingers through his short dark hair he glanced around, yeah..there was no light other than the moon and stars..this was an unlikely place for the cops to roll through and after this he could walk the rest of the graveyard then go back and let his thoughts flow onto paper, maybe come up with some new tattoo designs. Taking a razorblade out of his black bondage pants he cut himself a good sized line of the white powder about the length of his index finger. Rolling up a five dollar bill and placing a finger to one nostril he snorted the coke with one quick inhale, tilting his head back and enjoying the drip down his throat, the pleasant numbness. Just as he was getting ready to pack a bowl of weed to begin his rollercoaster called speedballing which is mixing an upper and a downer he heard something move not too far away, it was a subtle noise that normally wouldn't have even caught his attention if not for his heightened state due to his cocaine induced buzz. Squinting his blue eyes he peered into the darkness, if some punk ass was out here looking for trouble he'd sure as hell give it to him, in the meantime though, he didn't feel threatened. Leaning against the tombstone he held his lighter to the blue glass bowl and covered the carb with his thumb, inhaling the strong smoke, holding it in his lungs until a few rough coughs bubble up.