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Rezushi
The night sky was dark, with only the slightest sliver of glistening white moon to be seen. A chilly wind whistled by, creating faint rustling noises in the leaves of the trees. The grass crunched gently under the weight of nervous footsteps. The youths glanced at each other. Their expressions were not visible through the darkness, but some were excited, others uncertain, some even frightened.

They were making their way through a cemetery.

It was cold and eerie. They could just make out the dark shapes of the hundreds of tombstones surrounding them. They were everywhere, stretching out from one end of the cemetery to another …

The teens were beginning to wonder if it was worth going through this shortcut, even if it saved them a whole twenty minutes. Their breath was short and sharp, and their heartbeats were faster than normal. They could feel goose-bumps running down their arms …

Suddenly, there was a sharp crunching sound, and the ground beneath them gave away. The grass seemed to part and miraculously disappear, revealing a circular opening. Seven pairs of feet slipped and fell. Seven voices screamed in horror. Seven bodies landed thumping on soft dirt. They had fallen about ten feet. Looking up with shocked, widened eyes, they could see the gaping hole above them.

One of them suddenly pointed to a spot a few metres away from them, crying out in amazement. The others turned to see a tube of light in the air, from the ceiling of the tunnel down to the ground that they stood on, with no apparent source. Millions of dust particles swam in the illuminated area. And in the middle of the streak of light, hovering in mid-air, was a softly glowing sphere.

Curious, the youths approached. Close-up, they could see misty, indistinct shapes floating inside the mist of the orb, shifting and rippling like smoke. They locked their eyes on to the orb, unable to draw away. It was compelling. Each of them suddenly felt a pushing urge to touch the mysterious globe. Unable to fight the temptation, they all simultaneously, silently, reached out a hand …

When the tips of their fingers brushed against the sphere, the ground beneath them began to vibrate violently, accompanied by a deep, rumbling sound. The orb suddenly glowed brighter, sending rays of blinding white light out to them. Yelling, they threw their arms over their faces to shield themselves against the dazzling luminance.

The shaking of the earth strengthened, and they found themselves knocked off their feet. Lying on the ground, they peeked out from behind their arms, opening their eyes as little as possible. In the middle of the light, they could see the silhouette of seven human figures … they had disturbed a holy object, an object that was the thread between life and death, which bound the dead from the living world, the God’s Rezushi. Upon touching the Rezushi, they had unlocked it, and seven spirits had been released …

The teenagers fell unconscious at that point. Each slipped into a dream of one of the seven awoken spirits, revealing the spirit’s past. As they dreamed, each spirit entered the soul of the one who had released them, and bound the two souls together.

Each teen awoke in their own beds the next morning, with a ghost standing in each of their rooms.
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Ahem ^^; PPT’s RP board has been *very* inactive lately, and each RP can’t seem to reach further than one or two pages. So I thought, I have to create something that’s really, really interesting to revive the RP board … Rezushi was inspired by one of my favourite anime, Hikaru no Go =D So I’m hoping that Rezushi doesn't slowly die like all the rest of them seem to be doing x_x Will everybody who joins please, please stay active?

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Okay, now let me explain a little more about the RP.

The seven youths were friends who had just come from a party, and they were trying to sneak back into their homes. They then decided to cut across the cemetery, as it was cold and dark and they really wanted to get into their beds quickly. And so the above happened ^^; (Btw, to prove that you have read everything in this post, both above and below what you are reading now, put “I swear I will try to stay active” in Size 1 font at either the beginning or end of your bio.)

Each ghost that was released died before they were 30 (no particular reason apart from the fact that some of us may be reluctant to play tottering old men or women with walking sticks xP.) They do not age while they are ghosts, of course. Each of them has an interesting story to tell. Nobody can see or hear them apart from the seven teens. Each teen is spiritually “bound” to one of the ghosts. This means that as well as being able to see and hear their particular ghost, they can also touch and communicate telepathically with them. Their ghosts may not be more than ten metres away from them. Now, the ghosts and children have to decide what they want to do – try to find a way to return the ghosts to the Rezushi, or attempt to bring the ghost back to life? Or just accept the situation and keep it this way forever?

Rules
- Normal RP rules apply, as usual.
- Your living character must be 13 – 15.
- Your ghost can come from any country, from any time, be male or female, and can also be either fictional or a real historical figure.
- You must PM me your bio first. Do not post it here unless I have PM’ed you back saying that you can join.

Bios

Living Character
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance:
Personality:

Ghost
Name:
Age (at death):
Gender:
Time of Death:
Place of Death:
Appearance:
Personality:
History:

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My Bios--

Living Character
Name: Winter
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Appearance: Winter is petite and scrawny, her frame thin and light and slender. She is very short, and not very strong, sometimes mistaken as an eleven- or twelve-year-old. Her skin is smooth, with a slight tan. Her soft, shoulder-length hair is relatively thick, and light brown in colour. Her eyes are large and aqua-blue, prominent on her thin, slightly pointed face. She has a small, delicate nose accompanied by thin pink lips. She looks like a gentle, sweet, smiling, innocent little girl, though, of course, looks can always be misleading.
Personality: She usually acts polite and curious, with her bright eyes, small smiles and soft words. Most people who have just had a conversation with her would label her as “harmless.” However, the girl can be devious and calculating when she wants to be. Anybody who offends her will get hurt, though they will never know that it is her. However, to the people who do not cause her any harm, she is quite nice to. Despite her size, she is quite capable of making herself bright and noticeable. Similarly, she can also make herself boring and shadowed, enough for her to slink around without anybody paying any attention to her at all. She has a tendency to be very cautious of everybody new that she meets, though she doesn't show it on the outside. She also carries a strange love of horror movies and rollercoasters.

Ghost
Name: Alexander Warrensford
Age (at death): 17
Gender: Male
Time of Death: November 12th, 1762
Place of Death: London, England
Appearance: Long-ish, dark, almost-black hair cut just an inch above his shoulders, framing a pale, handsome face. His eyes are perfect almonds in shape, with deep, navy-blue orbs that seemed to glint with a mysterious, sorrowful light. Both his nose and slightly pale lips are slender and refined. He is tall, with broad shoulders, his body strong and athletic. His attire consists of a pair of dark blue pants and an indigo shirt with slightly baggy sleeves, as well as a buttoned white waistcoat and tall, buckled black boots. A regal sword hangs at his side.
Personality: He is a kindly, sympathetic soul with a certain sense of honour and nobility. He can be deeply understanding to some people, but perfectly oblivious to others, though he does not mean to be unaware of those people’s feelings. He appears mature and responsible to elder people and strangers, but around his friends he is relaxed and almost childish. He tends to suddenly zone out and stare into space with a sad, reminiscent look in his eyes sometimes, a habit which he had adopted after his death.
History: Alexander was born as a nephew of the King of England. In his youth, he had lived happily in the castle with his elder sister, Lynette, whom he was extremely close to. However, his cousin, Prince Christopher, hated him, because Alexander had always proved himself to be a better swordsman, archer and rider than Christopher. Their other cousin, Maria, held a bitter jealousy towards Lynette, who was a lot prettier than Maria. Then, one day, it became too much for Maria, when she found that the man whom she loved was deeply attracted to Lynette and had no interest in her whatsoever. She poisoned her own father, and then blamed it on Lynette. Just as she was about to order Lynette’s beheading, Alexander claimed that he was the one who had killed his uncle. Maria’s brother, Christopher, who had just been crowned as the new King, was only too happy to let Alexander take the blame.
Alexander was executed at dawn.

I swear I will try to stay active

Living Character
Name: Montreal
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nontreal is of medium height and relatively normal for his age. He has black hair, thick glasses, and green eyes. Usually is seen wearing bright colors, used to stand out in a crowd as he frequently tries to draw attention to himself. His big feet are contained in sneakers with holes in the toes (done on purpose) He cannot see at all without his glasses, like most in his family (Though even with the glasses, he gets offended when called a geek or something similar.) Looks like his grandfather.
Personality: Very shy, wishes he was outgoing. Montreal occasionally tries to act dumb to hide his intelligence, something he isn't proud of. Went to the party to try and meet new people, preferably a girl. Embarassed over his name, is named after the city.

Ghost
Name: Alexandra Hodgson
Age (at death): 17
Gender: F
Time of Death: September 2nd, 1945
Place of Death: A chapel, IL
Appearance: Very beautiful girl, shoulderlength brown hair, brown eyes. Dresses nicely for all occasions in the latest fashions of the day.
Personality: Polite, cordial, nice to everyone though seldom gets in any deep friendships. Always has a smile
History: Grew up in a small town in rural Illinois. When they were both young (16-17), Zeke (Montreal's grandfather) was completely smitten over Alexandra, this drove poor Zeke nuts, as he had always been able to get what he wanted through his hard work. Over the summer they had really bonded, or so he thought. Later that year the news reached him that Alexandra had eloped. Crazy with jealousy, he murdered her as she prepared for her wedding. Her fiance was blamed. Zeke later married to another woman, forgetting about Alexandra. After death, she spent her time watching over and protecting her fiance in any way possible, even in jail. Mysterious gifts occasionally came to the prison, containing his favorite kind of chocolates.

Living Character
Name: Terrence Ranger
Age: 13
Gender: Male
Appearance: Terrence tends to wear simpler clothing, without anything fancy, and certainly no name brands. He is usually in just a t-shirt and jeans, plus perhaps a chain necklace. He has short black hair, and he prefers to wear prescription sunglasses, to hide his hideous eyes, which are perpetually bloodshot for reasons no one has been able to figure out. His nose is large and crooked, and he has a scar from a surgery across his face.
Personality: Terrence was born with several anamolies, including horrible vision, and a tumor spreading through his head, just behind his face. He had several surgeries for both dysfunctions, but one left a scar, and one left mysterious side effects. When he was very young, he had a severe injury in his nose, and it was forced to stay out of his place for several weeks before finally being permenantly out of place. As he grew up, he became known as "Terrence the Tortoise" for his unlucky ugliness. Becuase of this, over the years, he has begun to show contempt for just about everyone he knew. He despises his appearance and his life. The night of the cemetery incident, he had intended to end it all with his father's shotgun. But life got the better of him, because he got paired up with just the ghost for him: Larak Edinu.


Ghost
Name: Larak Edinu (Sumerian, meaning "plain of light")
Age (at death): 13
Gender: Male
Time of Death: 4894 B.C.
Place of Death: Sumer, in a small area between the two cities from which his name comes
Appearance: Larak wore... wears the clothing of his day, a tunic-like robe made from leather, with a primitive belt. He wears leather sandals. He has black hair, and several scars across his face.
Personality: Larak was never the cheerful type. Born into a family of slaves, he faced the suppression of slavedrivers daily, with no breaks. He was slashed across the face with a knife several times daily, producing many scars. He was pretty much unable to have a good life, ever, and thus, he was bitter at everyone. He hated his life, and wished Marduk had never taken power and created the world. Unfortunately for him, he was here.
History:
Larak spent most of his life in slavery, only resting at night. He had a spectacularly painful time with his tasks, which were sometimes too much. He often wished he was dead during those times, especially after his parents' death. When he was thirteen, he noticed a knife on a table, where he could reach it. He kept on watching it all day, never taking his eye off of it. Finally, slave driver took his eyes off of it, and Larak went for it. He grabbed it, not sure of what to do. Should he kill the slave driver, and risk torture for his entire life, or should he...
It was too late. The guard came in, and Larak realized that their was no way he could ever kill the guard. So, he did the only thing he could do without being tortured: He thrust the knife into his own heart. As he saw the world fade away, he saw a new world fade in. He thought to himself, So this is dead.
I promise to be active!

[Don't worry, by the way. My ghost knows English, as a 463rd language. Hey, when you're dead for over 6,000 years, you have plenty of time to devote to academic growth.]

Living Character
Name:Vic(toria) (Vic hates her real name, to her, it sounds too old fashioned and reminds her of her great-old aunt.) Kingsley
Age:15
Gender:female
Appearance:Nearly white shoulderlength hair (due to coloring, her real hair color is brown), brown eyes and a pale skin. She likes to dress up male like, with 'alternative clothing'.

Personality:Resourcefull, but she can be dim-witted and bad mouthed. She has troubles with authorities.

Ghost
Name: Cain Sairlin
Age (at death):25
Gender:Male
Time of Death:1889
Place of Death:Near Paris
Appearance:Long slender man with short black hair. He is dressed in long priest (black) robes.
Personality: He has a dark side, which he desperatly tries to cover up by acting cheerfull (and brainless sometimes).
History: Cain was born as a second son in a high class family. His elder brother was well loved and a good leader.
Cain was somewhat different, a rebel and very associal. Deep in himself, he resented the responsabilities he got thrown in his
lap simply because being of higher class. Acting arrogant to his servants or anyone lower classed then himself. His passion for
starting brawls and wielding weapons, let him to take on a bad bett and eventually the murder of an innocent bystander.
Events took a turn for the worst, when Cain was lured into an ambush by vengefull family. Leaving him heavily wounded and
humiliated. His sister saved him from death, because she arrived just in time (having kept an eye on him). Cain recovered only
slowly, remaining silent for weeks. But after a time, he started talking with his sister Dalia and things began to change within him.
He finally decided to turn his back on his family responsabilities and become a priest to repent his sins. Cain left to be on
his own, despite many arguments with his own family asking not to become a priest. Dalia and Cain would remain in contact. But on the
evening Cain was supposed to leave, he overheard his elder brother talking about his plans to take over the family fortunes. Since Cain
would be out of the question only Dalia remained, she would have to be taken care off. In a flurry of events, Cain tried to overview
the situation in the next days, remaining secretly. Seeing his family fall one by one, he decided to stand guard over Dalia.
Only to be shot down when trying to save his family from his brother. Up until now, Cain doesn't know how her story ended.


I swear I will try to stay active

I swear I will try to stay active.

Living Character
Name: Natasha
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Appearance: Natasha has long, silky black hair. She has icy-blue eyes and a pale face, which matches her pale lips. Her nose is petite and dead-straight, a piece she quite prides. She has a slender body, and is around 5'8. She is usually seen wearing dark colours, which makes her look even more pale.
Personality: She tends to stand with her shoulders arched delicately backwards, a brooding expression on her face. She thinks about things a lot, but can be cheerful and outgoing when she wants to be. She can hate people as much as love them, and switch either of these on whenever she pleases.

Ghost
Name: Lucius (Julius) Iuvenalis
Age (at death): 16
Gender: Male
Time of Death: March 29th, 44BC
Place of Death: Several miles from Rome
Appearance: Lucius has short black hair and icy blue eyes. He is pale and tall, around 6'1. He is strong but doesn't look it, is only slim but not exactly toned. He has thin eyebrows which he can arch perfectly, and usually has a cynical look about him. He wears his white toga, exposing some of his ghostly chest. However, clear as day on his torso can be seen three stab marks, and Lucius can make these run silvery blood at will. He positively revels in this ability.
Personality: Lucius is rational and is always trying to find the logical solution, even if there isn't one. He is calm and collected a lot of the time, keeping a cool head in dangerous situations. He is always the voice of reason in any insanity. His upbringing was mostly steady until his death, so he is not of a nervous disposition and is always there if someone needs a shoulder to lean on. He is comforting, tactful, and tries to like everyone and enjoy everyone's company. He can be playful, but can sometimes take this to extremes and enjoys making people scared of him, if later he can rectify the situation. Otherwise, he won't do it. He would have been a kind son and was a born ruler, although his chance to shine never came. Nevertheless, he thought of Flavia, his nanny, as a mother, and become incredibly attached to her. If people speak of her, he will become mysteriously deaf, hum, and change the subject as quickly as possible, or wait for it to be changed. Even after two thousand and fifty odd years, the memory of the cruel way Flavia was torn from him is still fresh.
History: Lucius was born as a son to Julius Caesar, the Roman dictator at the time. His mother was Servilia Caepionis, Brutus' mother. Lucius' brother, Brutus, would later come to kill Julius Caesar. Lucius was the result of an affair with Brutus' mother, and it was all kept very secret. Lucius lived outside the palace in a comfortable home with many slaves to tend to his every wish and whim, paid, of course, by the emperor. He lived with a woman called Flavia, who cared for him as much as she could, almost like a nanny. Caesar would not admit that Lucius was his son, and he even ordered that Lucius' middle name be removed, as it was Julius' family name. Julius and Lucius only saw each other once a month because of the aspersions people would cast if they visited each other more often.

However, Brutus found out about Caesar's affair with his mother and set out to kill first the emperor and then the son. Lucius was smuggled out of Rome, away from Brutus, when he was only twelve. He did not see his father, but heard news that, four years later, Brutus and some other men had assassinated Caesar. Brutus claimed that it was the fact that Caesar might make himself a King, not a dictator, but his real reason was his hate for Caesar having an affair with his mother.

Fourteen days later, Brutus came for Lucius. Brutus, along with the men that assassinated Caesar, stormed the little house that Lucius and Flavia lived in, and killed the two inhabitants. Lucius stepped forward first, to protect Flavia, and was murdered with three knife wounds to the chest. The assassinators murdered Flavia in order for her to keep her silence.

Lucius was incredibly close to Flavia, and has spent an eternity of thousands of years trying to find her again. He has not been successful, and there is a great ache in his heart. He has dedicated the two thousand years he has been dead to learn English, Spanish and French, as well as keep speaking Latin and researching Roman history, and all other areas of the subject. He has been studying for as long as he was dead, and is always hungry for more knowledge. He is trying to invent a way to stop Death in his tracks, because he never wants anyone else to go through what he did when he was only sixteen.

Living Character
Name: Karyn
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Appearance: She has long, soft mouse-brown hair, which is pullled up into a French braid most of the time. Her eyes are a deep brown, and show her emotions easily. Her skin is fair, and her nose is speckled with light freckles. She wears turtlenecks and jeans most of the time, but never wearing the same color twice in one week. Around her neck is a pair of headphones, which lead down to a CD player that hangs on a black belt. She is tall and skinny, her appearance awkward.
Personality: She is shy, even around those she knows well. She is naturally quiet, and prefers to read a book and listen to music than anything else. Around people she knows and likes, she is more inclined to speak, however most of the time her words are thought out carefully before saying them. If she doesn't likewhat is going on at the moment, she will put on her headphones and turn the music up so that she can't hear what is going on.

Ghost
Name: Khenti
Age (at death): 17
Gender: Male
Time of Death: June 20, 2000 B.C.
Place of Death: The Nile River, Egypt
Appearance: He is a bit taller than most ancient Egyptians. His skin is a golden tan, because of his life in Egypt. His hair is a dark brown, almost black. His eyes are olive, and most of the time hold a calm expression. He wears the traditional attire of Pharoah's bodyguards, a long white kilt with golden wristguards, and many Egyptian Amulets. His chest is bare.
Personality: He is cool and calculating for the most part; swift to act and slow to anger. He keeps aware for any danger that may be nearby. He is highly protective of those weaker than him, and those he cares for or respects. He is a natural born leader, however he only uses this when he feels it is absolutely necessary, and he has a high sense of honor.
History: Khenti was born the only son of one of the Pharoah of Upper Egypt's personal bodyguards. At the age of six, he was sent to the castle for training in becoming an Egyptian soldier. Khenti was a natural, and a quick learner, so he quickly progressed with his training. When he was not training, he spent most of the time with Pharoah's son, Akhom, who was the same age as him. They soon became best friends, and spent all the time they could together.
When Khenti was fifteen, the Pharoah died and Akhom took on the position. On Khenti's sixteenth birthday, when he would normally have joined the army, Akhom promoted him to be one of his personal bodyguards.
Not long after his seventeenth birthday, Akhom decided to take a trip on the Nile. Soon after they had left the castle, an attack was made on the boat they were on by mercenaries for the Pharoah of Lower Egypt. Khenti fought fiercely to protect his friend, and even took a knife blow that was meant for the Pharoah. The blow was fatal, and Khenti died moments after killing the mercenary.

I swear I will try to stay active.

Sorry, bios are definately my weak point. @-@ Also, if you see anything that looks like it shouldn't be in there (./par for example) I had to save it because my internet went wonky, and it saved weird. o-O

I swear I will try to stay active

My Bios

Living Character
Name: Sara Carner
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Appearance: She has long blonde hair, slightly curled and falling down to her mid back. She is very pretty, with high cheekbones and sparkling green eyes. Sara has a slim build and a petite figure. Her mouth is often twisted into a smile, her eyes concentrating and witty. Her cheeks are brushed with blush, and her skin is fair and smooth.
Personality: Sara is intelligent, and witty. She is very determined but all too often she is determined to the point of recklessness. In contrast, she can often be very hesitant to take real risks and dive into things too quickly. She is brooding at times, cheery and care-free at others. This paradox of a teenager is outgoing all the while, eager to talk and laugh.

Ghost
Name: Marie Swanson
Age (at death): 5
Gender: Female
Time of Death: 2: 21 PM- February 14th, 1915
Place of Death: London, England
Appearance: Short dark brown, soft and shining, falls a little past her chin. Her face is pale and smiling all the time. Her hair is tied half up with a pink ribbon. She is very small and wears a neat pinafore and dress of pink and white.
Personality: Sweet and giggling, she 'dances' through her days. Light-hearted, she loved meeting new people. Smart at her young age, her bright eyes glitter. She is neat and careful, gentle and nice.
History: In the early 1900's this girl with her mother and father lived in a stately manor, Victorian style; and very wealthy. In the cold of the bitter winter she caught scarlet fever and was dead within days.

[Start xP]

So bright …

She was floating in white light. She squinted against it. It was all around her, pressing into her drifting body. She couldn't seem to feel her limbs as much as usual, and her mind was foggy.

A figure came into view, blurry and indistinct at first, but then the sight of him seemed to sharpen and focus. It was a boy … well, almost a man. She stared at him. He was tall and handsome, with dark hair, and dressed in old-fashioned clothing, smiling tenderly down at her with sorrowful dark-blue eyes.

‘Who are you?’ she whispered. It was barely audible even to herself, but he seemed to have heard her. He inclined his head very slightly and didn't speak until a moment later.

‘My name is Alexander Warrensford,’ he replied softly. ‘I was born … on July sixth of 1745 …’

The light was fading rapidly, and so was he. She stayed hovering as everything dimmed, unsure of how to react. A new vision came to her, of an enormous castle …

Buckingham Palace, she realised.

‘I was the King’s nephew,’ came Alexander’s voice from nowhere. The image seemed to be zooming into a spot in the Palace gardens. There, she saw two children. One, who she somehow knew to be Alexander, was around five or six, while the other one seemed to be slightly older. She was a girl, and was very pretty, with gorgeous, silky blonde locks of hair and indigo eyes like Alexander’s. She held a chain of daisies in her hand. The two of them were running around and chasing each other. There was no sound, but she could see that their expressions were vibrant and laughing, their cheeks flushed.

‘I was happy in my youth,’ she heard Alexander speak again, though she couldn't see the older version of him. ‘I was very close to Lynette, my older sister. We were a unique brother and sister … we loved each other dearly, and never had a single fight …’

The visions were blending smoothly from one to the next, all of Alexander and Lynette being happy together – laughing, playing …

Cool animation, said something in the back of her mind.

‘We had two cousins, Prince Christopher and Princess Maria,’ Alexander continued, as a new set of motioned, soundless pictures swam into view, replacing the previous ones. ‘Christopher always hated me …’

She watched as an Alexander around her age practiced swinging a sword, shot arrows at a bulls-eye, and galloped proudly on an enormous stallion. On the sidelines, a sandy-haired boy of similar age watched resentfully, his expression bitter with furious jealousy at Alexander’s talent.

‘Maria did not like Lynette, either- she was jealous of my sister’s beauty. Lynette was the loveliest lady in the entire court, and she was gentle and kind and sweet.’

A plain-looking girl with a small crown nestled on her head, Maria, was glaring hatefully at an older Lynette.

‘And then … one day … Maria fell in love with a man. She confessed her feelings to him, but he coldly turned his back on her and courted Lynette. I suppose … that must have been the last straw for Maria. She poisoned the King, her own father, and blamed it on my sister.’

She watched as the story played in flashes before her. She was barely thinking anymore, her eyes wide as she gazed on, enraptured.

‘I knew that Lynette could not have murdered the King. She could never have murdered anybody. But Maria’s status was higher than ours … they were going to execute Lynette,’ Alexander said, his voice filled with sadness. ‘But I couldn't let them …’

Alexander was, in slow-motion, leaping forwards and shouting something to Christopher, who sat on a throne. Alexander’s face was filled with pain.

‘I told Christopher – who was then King as he had inherited the throne – that I was the one who had poisoned my Uncle. He knew it was not me, but he was very willing to let me take the blame instead. He ordered my execution …’

Against a scarlet alpenglow, a shining axe was swinging high into the air, and then was brought down …

She was shocked to find tears forming in her eyes. Quickly, she swept them away with the back of her hand, blinking rapidly. The light came back, and so did Alexander. He looked even more nostalgic than before, but he was still smiling at her …

------------------

Winter awoke, blinking slowly. Her bed creaked slightly as she sat up and stretched her skinny arms.

‘Ugh … weird dream,’ she muttered to herself a little groggily, swinging her legs off the bed. She ran a small hand through her tousled hair.

‘Good morning.’

‘Wagh!’ she twisted her upper body around quickly in the direction of the male voice. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth opened soundlessly. She was hallucinating. The man that she had just dreamed about was standing in the middle of her room.

‘You … oh my god,’ Winter breathed. She leapt from her bed and took a step backwards. ‘Get out.’

‘What- ?’ Alexander looked a little puzzled. ‘I’m sorry if my presence alarms you, but that isn’t possible …’

‘Get out!’ Winter snapped. She took another few steps backwards, but Alexander moved forwards too.

‘No, you don't understand, that really isn’t possible …’ began the boy soothingly.

‘What are you talking about?’ Winter said. She moved backwards more rapidly, but then, she was halted. She gaped. An invisible force was restraining her from moving back any further. Alexander looked as though something was tugging at him.

‘You see, our spirits bonded after you released me,’ Alexander said, trying to explain. ‘I thank you for that, actually – my deepest gratitude for allowing me to come to the living world …’

Winter had no idea what he was talking about. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she stated.

‘Don't – don't you remember anything about the previous night?’ Alexander said rather nervously. ‘You unlocked Rezushi.’

‘Last night,’ Winter said slowly, staring at Alexander. She thought hard … last night, party … ended late, sneaking back … cemetery … hole … light … sphere …

‘Oh god,’ she whispered softly, replaying the memories in her mind.

At that point, there was a sharp rapping on the door. ‘Winter?’ her mother’s voice called from outside. Winter froze.

‘Winter!’ the door opened, and a middle-aged woman poked her head inside. ‘Why do I hear your voice coming from your room so early in the morning? Who’re you talking to?’

The woman looked around the room, and then sighed. ‘Aren’t we getting a little old for imaginary friends now?’ She rolled her eyes and gave her daughter a small smile.

‘I …’ Winter stared at her mother. Then she turned and stared at Alexander. Maybe she was going crazy.

‘What are you looking at?’ her mother asked.

‘She cannot see or hear me,’ Alexander said. ‘I am a spirit.’

The usual agility of Winter’s brain was resurfacing now, shaking off its sleepiness. Her gaze flew away from Alexander to smile reassuringly at her mother. ‘Nothing, mum,’ she said sweetly. ‘I’m going to audition for a play at school tomorrow, and I was just, you know, practicing. Sorry if I disturbed you.’

‘Oh!’ her mother grinned apologetically. ‘No, I wasn't disturbed. Hope you get the part. Breakfasts’ in ten minutes.’

She withdrew her head and the door snapped shut.

Alexander smiled at Winter. ‘So – Winter, your name is, I presume? – I have introduced myself to you in your dreams all night. Now it is your turn, as it is likely that we will be spending a lot of time together from now on.’

Winter took a deep breath. ‘I’m Winter. Junior highschool student. Fourteen years old.’

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Winter,’ Alexander said, smiling. He stepped forwards and held out his hand. A little cautiously, Winter approached him and took it. They shook.

He feels pretty real for a ghost, Winter thought.

‘Oh, and by the way,’ Alexander said lightly. ‘There is no need to speak to me aloud and let the people around you believe you are insane. You can talk to me telepathically.’

‘I can?’ she raised her eyebrows.

‘Try.’ He smiled gently again.

Winter, surprised by her own calmness, closed her eyes and concentrated on directing a thought at Alexander.

‘Your clothes are weird,’ she thought.

Alexander stiffened. ‘They most certainly are not!’ he said indignantly. ‘It is your attire that is strange!’

Winter opened her eyes again and glanced down at her pajamas. She gave him a small smile. ‘That reminds me. I need to get dressed. Turn around and shut your eyes tight.’

He obliged, and Winter walked across the room and opened her closet door. As fast as she could, she took off her pajamas and donned a white shirt and a pair of jeans, with frequent quick glances behind her to make sure that Alexander truly wasn't looking.

‘Done,’ Winter thought finally. As Alexander turned back around, she walked over to her schoolbag that was lying on the floor. Bending down, she unzipped it and retrieved her mobile phone.

‘What is that?’ Alexander asked curiously.

‘A cellphone. You can talk to people who are far away from you by it,’ she explained as briefly as she could, already dialing a number.

‘Hello, Natasha?’ she began as soon as it connected. ‘Uh, this is gonna sound crazy and you’re not going to believe it …’

[Note - your dreams can be similar to mine, or it can be completely different, but you definetely must have a dream ^^;]

Natasha blinked, once, twice, three times. She was trying to clear her vision of the blinding white light, but had been unsuccessful. She checked that she was still there, first. Yes – there was her hair, her face, her mouth, her eyes, her nose.

Suddenly, the light flashed away, into a vision of her room. Somehow she knew that, even though she could see her room, she was not awake, merely dreaming, asleep.

So why…?

Her vision slid to the left, and she jumped violently. A tall, weak-looking, handsome, dark-haired male was standing in the room. He looked exactly like he’d come out of one of her Latin books, and Natasha wondered whether she had studied too much for her Latin test before the party.

He was dressed in a white toga, the fabric slung across his chest casually, revealing the left half of his upper torso. ‘Hello,’ he said quietly, looking at Natasha with a hint of a smile on his face. He raised his hand and brushed some of his fringe away.

Instead of returning his greeting, Natasha blinked some more, and answered, “Who are you?” Her voice was just as quiet, if not quieter. She didn’t know why someone who looked like a Roman was standing in her room, but then a little voice in her head reminded her that she was having a dream, and, well, anything could happen.

‘My name is Lucius,’ the man said, gesturing to himself.

Natasha sat up. She thought she might as well play along – it wasn’t often she had a dream like this, so detailed. “Hello, Lucius. I’m Natasha.”

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Natasha. When you asked who I was, I assume you did not just mean my name. Allow me to show you who I really am,’ Lucius offered, inclining his head.

Natasha paused. What harm could it do? Slowly, she nodded, her mouth dry.

Immediately the image of the room faded out, and the scene switched to a large, white palace. Natasha was standing on lush green grass just outside. She looked around for Lucius, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Lucius?” she ventured timidly, not wishing to draw much attention to herself in this strange place, even if it was a dream.

‘This is the palace of Julius Caesar,’ Lucius’ voice announced. Natasha looked around wildly, as if Julius Caesar was going to step out from a bush any second. ‘This is where I was born,’ Lucius continued.

“B… born?” Natasha mumbled. “You don’t mean that… you’re…”

‘I am Julius Caesar’s son, yes. Let me show you my mother.’

The scene changed once again. Natasha was now standing in front of a very beautiful woman who was sitting on a chair. ‘This is my mother, Natasha,’ Lucius said. ‘Her name is Servilia Caepionis.’

“I recognise that name…” Natasha said quietly, trying to remember Latin class.

‘She is Brutus’ mother. She is the mother of the man who assassinated Julius Caesar,’ Lucius said, and a sadness entered his voice.

“Oh…” Natasha said quietly. She knew she had recognised that name from somewhere. “So your brother killed your father?”

‘Yes.’

“Did he know you were… his brother?” Natasha said. She didn’t mean to probe, but Lucius had wanted to show her his past, right?

‘He found out when I was twelve. Caesar never admitted that I was his son, but from my mother’s reaction when Brutus asked her, he deducted that yes, I was Brutus’ brother.’

Natasha looked around for Lucius again. “Did you live here?”

‘No. It would have been much too dangerous for me to live here. I lived here.’ The scene blurred out, and a little stone house fazed in. The castle could be seen in the distance. ‘I lived in Rome, and visited my father once a month. Walk inside the house.’

Natasha tried not to smile as she walked forward, towards the stone house. This had to be the best interactive tour of Rome she’d ever had – and she was making it all up! She stepped inside the house and a ginger-haired woman walked past her, muttering to herself. Instinctively, Natasha followed the woman into the other room, where a nine-year-old Lucius was sitting.

The woman spoke some Latin to Lucius, and Lucius replied. The voices suddenly became quieter as the older Lucius spoke over the top of them. ‘This is Flavia. She looked after me but I loved her like a mother and she cared for me like a son. We were… inseparable.’

Natasha nodded, and waited for Lucius to continue. There was a ten second pause, in which Natasha was pretty sure she heard Lucius stifling a pained sob.

‘When Brutus found out I was his brother,” Lucius continued, as if no pause had come between the words ‘inseparable’ and ‘when’, ‘we moved. I was only twelve. I lived here.’

The scene changed to a little stone house in a forest. ‘It was a beautiful place,’ Lucius continued sadly, ‘it was a shame to leave it.’

Natasha furrowed her brow. “What happened?” she inquired.

‘To answer that question, I must bring us forward four years.’ The scenery began to change around her, people moved in fast motion around the house, and Natasha could see Lucius every so often, growing older and older. Plants grew, and died, until finally, when Natasha was feeling quite dizzy, the time movement stopped.

‘March 29th, 44BC. Welcome to the day of my death, Natasha.’

Natasha swallowed, and suddenly jumped as four men snuck right past her, without noticing her. One man even walked right through her, which made Natasha shiver.

Lucius spoke only two words, but it was enough. ‘Follow them.’

Natasha swallowed again, but did as he asked, following the four men. They strode right into the house and into a room where both Lucius and Flavia were sitting. Lucius jumped up, and Flavia let out a scream.

The scene stopped moving. “Lucius?” Natasha asked timidly.

Another Lucius appeared beside the frozen Lucius, who had stepped forward to protect Flavia. ‘I don’t think you need to see anymore,’ he said sadly. He moved across to one of the men, and put a hand on his shoulder. The man did not feel it. ‘Brutus. Brutus my brother came to our stone house and murdered us in cold blood, just fourteen days after he assassinated my father.’

Lucius smiled, and gave Natasha a sombre wave. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

-

Natasha was woken by the incessant ringing of her mobile phone. “Whassat?” she mumbled, rolling over in her bed. She hung her right arm down the side of the bed and gripped her jeans, pulling them towards her. She fished the phone out of the pocket.

“Hello?” she said, sleepily. She was greeted by the sound of her friend, Winter’s, voice. “Winter!” she exclaimed, sitting upright. “Hi!”

Winter said something into the phone, “Uh, this is gonna sound crazy and you’re not going to believe it…”

“What?” Natasha said. The dream she had had last night was still vivid. She stood up and pulled the cord next to her window. The curtains flew open, and the first thing she saw was Lucius’ face looking through the window.

‘Boo.’

Natasha screamed and dropped the phone. She ran to the opposite side of the room, dropped on all fours, and crouched behind the bed, whimpering.

Lucius, meanwhile, had crawled underneath the bed and was now lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, underneath her bed, looking at her. Natasha had not noticed. She looked cautiously over the bed and saw no one, but ducked back down anyway.

She saw him again, screeched, and slid hastily backwards. Lucius crawled forward and sat up, on his knees. ‘Don’t be like that,’ he said, somewhat sombrely, ‘I don’t bite.’

“Natasha?” a voice called through the door, and someone knocked. “Natasha, are you all right?”

Natasha paused and stood up, running towards the door and wrenching it open. “Mum!” she said, and stepped back. Her mother came in and looked around the room.

“You were screaming, are you okay?” her mother, Joanne, asked, concerned.

“Can’t you… can’t… can’t you see…” Natasha blurted out, gesturing towards Lucius, who stood up, smiled, and waved at Joanne.

‘She can’t,’ he said calmly. ‘She’s going to think you’re crazy.’

“You’re crazy!” Joanne said softly, and laughed. “Breakfast is on the table, when you want it, Natasha. Get dressed first, though.” And with that, she left. Natasha looked down at her nightdress slightly moodily.

Lucius’ smile widened and he pointed at the phone. ‘You dropped that.’ He had no clue what it was, but he thought it would be best if Natasha retrieved it.

Dully, Natasha padded over to it and picked it up, putting the phone to her ear. She decided not to mention Lucius as she said quietly, “I’m sorry, my mum came in. What’s going to sound crazy?”

Damn light!

Montreal turned over on his other side, trying to get back to sleep. The faulty wiring in this house had probably turned the stupid thing back on, he reached a hand up to turn it on, but much to his surprise, it wasn't a light at all.

It was a woman, a very shiny woman.

"Ezekiel?" she asked slowly, giving him a glance which seemed half 'Why am I in your room?' and half 'I'm in your room rather unexpectedly and I'm going to kill you.'

"It is you!" she shrieked, zooming over to him in a spectral glide, her hands bolted out, intent on strangling the poor boy ferociously.

Intent is all it ever got to. Her hands phased through Montreal's skin, even phased through the bedframe behind him. "Who are you, and why the hell are you in my room trying to kill me!?" he shrieked, his voice extremely loud. He backed up against a wall, cornered, soon he would be the victim of some ghostly malice.

She followed him, her eyes burning with a blue fiery rage, her face a twisted mess of hate, pondering all the horrible things she'd do to this, the person who ruined her life.

But then her expression changed to one of embarassment, "Oh. Wrong person. Many apologies." she blushed, giving a weak smile.

"Many apologies!?" Montreal gasped, feeling like an asthma attack was about to take him, "You burst in my room, try to kill me, and then apologize?"

The woman put a finger absentmindedly in her mouth, as if pondering the entire situation. "Well, when you put it that way, it does seem a little odd." she noticed his questioning gaze on her inhuman form, "Yes, I'm a ghost." she laughed, knowing his question before he even asked it. "If you're not Ezekiel, then who are you?"

"Ezekiel.. as in Ezekiel Batelle?" he asked, thinking of his late grandfather.

The woman gasped, "You know him!? Where is he!?" her eyes darted around quickly, as if he was hiding somewhere in the room.

"He is.. was my grandfather. My name's Montreal Batelle, at your service." he gave a mock bow, ignoring the woman's stifled laugh at the sound of his name, "And who would you happen to be?"

"Alexandra Hodgson, at your service." she gave a mock cursty. "So you're his grandfather, huh?" she gave him a look-over, "No wonder I mistook you for him, you too look a lot alike."

Montreal groaned, he got that all the time. "Mind telling me what you're doing here in the first place?"

"You released me last night, you don't remember?"

Figures, Montreal thought to himself, I go in looking for a girlfriend, and come out with a ghost. "Oh yeah, the light thing." he muttered, after seeing a ghost in his room, nothing could really surprise him now. "How do you know my grandfather?"

"Long story," Alexandra sighed, "We were in love once." her eyes looked away, as if looking at something far, far away. "I said it was a long story, and to make that long story short, he murdered me."

Montreal laughed, "I'm not surprised, he was quite the evil old man."

"Indeed."
-
Montreal awoke with a start, he had had one of the strangest dreams of his life, he had half expected to see Alexandra standing over his bed.

She was.

"Morning!" she beamed, all of the anger from last night had vanished.

Montreal sighed, bad things seemed to happen to him frequently, he sputtered a weak "Morning." and tried to get back to sleep. Alexandra shook him vigorously, her hands now making contact, and tried to wake him up. Luckily, one of Montreal's primary skills was being a heavy sleeper.

[The short paragraph style of this RP makes me feel like I'm writing something extremely long and well-written ]

Terrence walked home that evening, not even aware of himself. He unconciously put the gun under his pillow in a locked case, and tossed the key out the window, as he fell onto the bed, falling asleep.

"It's... it's a little boy." spoke the excited father.
"Let's name him something happy, since he will be... well."
"Yes, a slave. What do you propose?"
"Larak Edinu, so that he'll be a little light in the plains. And no matter how hard it gets, he won't give up."
"An excellent idea. I agree with it."
-
"Work, dogs! Work!" shouted the angry slave driver.
Why did I have to be born into this? thought Larak Edinu.
And indeed, why did he have to work all day, all night, with no breaks until they fell over asleep? The slave driver slashed Larak Edinu across the face, causing him to bleed. He couldn't take this pain, and he could see why his parents had died so early.
-
Larak Edinu saw the knife ten years after the first time he had been slashed. It was unguarded, and he might be able to kill this guard. He reached for it as the guard came in. He didn't have enough time, and he knew he couldn't kill that guard, and he-
-
BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE...
Terrence slammed the snooze button, and sat up. He tried to remember the events of the previous night. He ate pizza, then he watched TV, then he saw one of his friends having private time with a female guest, making him feel sick. Pervert, he thought. He threw up the pizza, along with some other contents of the night, some less legal than others. He didn't remember much else, but, -oh wait! He had gone through that cemetary, but, what had happened there? And... why wasn't he dead? Was this heaven? No, he couldn't be in heaven. He probably wasn't good enough for hell, either. Maybe he had died, and he was just still here. Maybe-
"Boo."
Terrence screamed, before falling asleep again.

Light. That was all Karyn could see for a moment or two; light. She blinked, the only thought going through her head was that it was very bright, and jumped when a hand was placed on her shoulder.

She looked over, trying to figure out who it was, and blinked again. No one she knew, certainly - no one anyone knew. It was odd, but he seemed strangely Egyptian...

"I am Khenti," the boy said. He had a strange accent, yet she could understand him well enough. "I was born long ago, on the day of Isis. My mother was overjoyed, she knew it was a blessing from Isis and that she would have help in taking care of me." He blinked this time, his olive eyes showing amusement. "But she worried as well, for as soon as I grew into manhood, Seth, the god of chaos, would be able to claim me. And perhaps that is what happened, but it is of no importance now."

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and Karyn was aware that her surroundings had changed. She was in an Egyptian palace, and she was aware of many men in front of her. Khenti was nowhere to be seen, but she heard him speak anyways. "My sixth birthday. The man before you is Pharoah of Upper Egypt, and the man to the left is my father, one of his bodyguards. I am the young boy in front of them. They are making arrangements for my training. And there -- see by that palm, over there? -- that is Akhom, Pharoah's son. He is my best friend."

Suddenly the scene changed again, and new ones came by, but this time Khenti did not explain them. He did not need to; they were self explanatory. Him training, playing with Akhom, spending time with family... it took some while before the images settled on one once more. This time, they seemed to be in a tomb of some sort -- a mummy case was in front of her (the face looked slightly familiar), and gold, food, and countless other things were piled around.

"It is my fifteenth summer. The Pharoah was killed by poison, from our enemy, the Pharoah of Lower Egypt. A few days later, Akhom was made Pharoah."

Then again the images flashed by, this time settling on a scene in the castle once more. "My sixteenth birthday. I am no longer a child, but a man. Ordinarily, at this age and my training, I would be sent to join the Egyptian army, however Akhom has deemed me worthy of following in my father's footsteps and becoming one of his personal guards. I was proud, it was the only thing I had dreamed of becoming."

Then the scenes flashed once more, settling upon a ship aboard a large river. It must have been the Nile. Khenti was there, looking as he had appeared before the images started appearing. "Finally, the day of my death. I am in my seventeenth summer."

Karyn saw a smaller boat slow to meet the one Khenti was on. Many men swarmed onto the Pharoah's boat, and the battle began. Karyn watched with growing horror as a man turned on Akhom, a knife pulled... Khenti saw what was happening; leaped in front of the new Pharoah... the man struck, and hit Khenti instead of his target. Blood rushed down Khenti's chest; and he glanced down at it before killing the man with his sword. Khenti looked over at Akhom, and then smiled...

And then everything became black. Karyn screamed.

------

Karyn awoke with a headache. She groaned, and slammed the alarm on her clock off, before opening her eyes. In front of her was a boy, his back turned to her, and the first thing she did was panic. The party! Did the boy come from there? Oh, she never should have gone!

But no, it couldn't have been the party. Karyn had made sure that she had kept an eye on what she drank, and she stayed mostly in the front room, mostly listening to her music. Where -had- the boy come from, then? What would her parents think...?

At the thought of her parents, Karyn jumped out of her bed. "Out! OUT!" she screamed.

"I cannot go."

"Of -course- you can! OUT!"

He turned to look at her, amusement showing on his face. Sunlight glinted off of one of his wrist bands. "I cannot go," he repeated. You unlocked Rezushi, and our spirits are bonded. I thank you for freeing me..." He paused, and blinked, his olive eyes somehow familiar... "Do you not remember last night?

It clicked then. The party had ended late, she and her friends had been hurrying home... the cemetary, the hole, the light, the sphere, and finally the dream. "No. No, it's not possible."

The door opened quickly, and her younger sister, Beth, looked inside stepped inside. "Karyn?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Yeah, I'm fine... there was a bug in here. It didn't want to go..." Karyn said, glancing towards the boy -- no, Khenti -- again.

Beth rolled her eyes and gave Karyn a look that plainly said, "Well, why didn't you just kill it?" and stepped out.

"Just as it was not possible that Beth could not see me, hm. I am a spirit, Karyn -- only you can see and hear me, should I choose to speak out loud." Khenti said. He smiled at Karyn's confused expression. "I am speaking to you telepathically, child. You can speak to me in the same way. You may try it, if you'd like... it would certainly keep you from making up more excuses. Bugs won't always come in handy when you need to get yourself out of a bind, you know."

"Alright. I'm trying. Can you hear me now? Geez, I feel stupid..."

"Yes, I can hear you. And no need to feel stupid, child, I have been speaking to you like this every since we met."

She grunted, and grabbed her clothes. She started to head out of her room, something stopped her from moving past her wardrobe. She grabbed her Discman as if that had been her intention all a long, and then looked over at the phone in her room, wondering if she should call any of her friends about this.

Winter would have continued talking, but at that moment, a piercing scream sounded from Natasha's end. She flinched and jerked away from the earpiece a little. 'Ouch ...!'

Recovering herself, she pressed the phone back to her ear. 'Natasha? What happened?'

There was no answer. Winter frowned slightly and checked the screen of her cellphone. The connection hadn't been broken. A little confused, she spoke again.

'Natasha?'

Alexander had approached. The sadness that had lingered in his orbs seemed to have faded quite a bit, replaced by a bright curiosity.

'Are you really communicating with somebody?' he asked eagerly. 'Who?' He reached forwards to touch her phone, but she turned away and waved him off.

'Natasha?' she repeated. 'Hey, can you hear me?'

There was a rush of rustling static, then her friend's voice finally sounded again.

'I'm sorry, my mum came in. What's going to sound crazy?'

Winter took a deep breath. 'There's - there's a ghost. Standing in my bedroom.'

A cobblestone street stretched out in front of Vic. At its sides flikkered the lamps adorning the street, due to their non electric nature. The walls of the houses leaned forward unevenly creating the illusion of a dark hallway, with an open ceiling.

Two rats rushed over the street, dissappearing again in a creak between two houses.

"Neat," Vic said. Walking along she admired the signs above the tiny shops. All french.

"Less neat," her french wasn't that good. In fact, she had been abominably neglecting it lately. Leaning forward, she tried to see what was stalled, until a voice sounded (with a heavy accent) from behind her.

"Knitting and repairs."

Swirling around, Vic looked up.

"Luckily my english is better then your french," the shape of a long man was visible in the shadows of the houses at the opposite side, "hmm, or maybe it's because of..?"

"Who the heck are you?!" I must dreaming, Vic thought. Sometimes, she just felt when she was.

The other was dressed in black robes, a pearled chain with a cross hanging from his belt and across his neck hung a small silver cross. A priest? Yet, one of his hands held up the handle of a mask covering his face. The mask looked quite dark and twisted, with a sad mouth and black holes for the eyes.

"Are you going to tell me the meaning of life?" Just my luck getting stuck in some voodoo twisted victorian reality.

"Em.. no," the other let the mask down, "I am Cain." He looked quite young, his face was gentle, but his eyes looked dulled.

"Eh I'm Vic. You ok?"

The scene swirled and changed. Horses whinnied, she was still in the same street. It was night, but the moon was full and the shop behind her had changed. Different time.

A carriage was blocking her view, several ruffian types were holding the horses' reins. None seem to pay attention to her. It was if she weren't there.

Vic shrugged, walking in a big circle behind the carriage to get a better view.

Cain and a young woman stood faced against another man, similar looking to Cain, and a few of the ruffians.

The priest shouted, "stand back, brother! I know what this is about?!"

But the other didn't move, "well, I didn't expect you here, Cain. All for the worst. If only you had stayed where you were.. or what you were. An ignorant troublemaker.. not caring fo.."

"Enough, just get away! I am serious!"

"You're not the only one," the other grabbed in his coat, revealing an old fashioned gun.

Cain was faster, but when he tried his gun, the only thing that resounded was a 'click'.

The amazement wasn't off the priests face when the bullet hit him. He swallowed, staggering back and then slowly went through his knees.

"Cain!" The woman kneeled down next to him, "I'm sorry, I took out the bullets.."

"W..why?"

"I ..I got word," she glared quickly at the elder brother, "that you were up to something bad. I'm so sorry."

Two of the ruffians dragged her off. The man who had shot stepped closer to Cain.

"You know, when we played chess, you always played black. It's a little late to change sides."

The other aimed his gun.

"Don't hurt Da.."

A terrible shot made everything go black.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vic blinked, she was looking her own ceiling, decorated with shine-in-the-dark stars. Except that the stars weren't shining. Because it was morning.

Her head thumbed. She closed her eyes again. What a horrible dream. What was in that juice last night?

Her mouth was all dryed up, she sat up in bed, looking for a glass or a bottle of water.

Bon jour!

One of her eyebrows twitched. Standing next to her desk was Cain.

"Great.. I'm not awake yet. More nightmares."

Non non ce n'est pas comme ç..

"Stop. You are going too fast, can't you?"

Ah.. pardonne moi, when I was in the dream with you, the language didn't seem a problem. I'm probably just doing the wrong thing.

"'We' are still in my.. I mean, no I am still dreaming. Stop confusing me and go away."

Like on cue, the alarm of her clock started to ring.

Let me explain. You remember the cemetary? You unlocked Resuzhi by touching the cone of light.

"Eh?" She did recall touching the cone of light.

Meaning you bound our spirits and freed me.

"What?!"

Stop shouting, you bound..

"Yes, I heard that!?" She jumped out of the bed, noticing she still had her previous day clothes on. Stopping in front of him, she growled, "get aside."

Oh? The other floated next to the window. Vic reached out for the portable phone.

((X_X long text.. loong text))

Natasha let out a stifled scream. "What?" she exclaimed, nervously looking over at Lucius, who was eyeing the phone with some interest and even prodding it. "Are you joking?" she suddenly added, sternly.

She had heard a voice though. Someone was with Winter, and it wasn't someone she'd picked up at the party. "Um... Winter? I know you thought your statement was going to sound crazy, but this'll be even worse. There's a man claiming to be Julius Caesar's son standing in a toga in my bedroom and he's - get off!" she added, shoving Lucius away with some force as her ear started to hurt from the prodding. "Poking my phone," she finished helplessly.

'Sorry,' Lucius mumbled, going as red as he could manage.