Desert Retreat [OPEN]

[Trey Forze]

Watching the tourists and the regulars pass by, Trey sat on a low branch in one of the oldest trees, and looked up at the sky admiring this serene place. It was a cloudy enough day for him to come out during the day, and if the there was a break in the clouds this high up forest would provide the cover he needed. He missed the day, and all the activity that took place, with decent people out to talk to and the sun casting reflections across the vast landscape. He wasn’t bothered by the looks that he was receiving, many of the tourists finding it odd that he would pause and stay in a tree, but they were busy rushing there time here, and would never see all the aspects of wild California the way Trey could. It was early in the morning still, and Trey was starting to feel impatient sitting still, and leaping off the branch he found his way further into the forest. The air here was thin, and many couples had to stop and take breaks, they couldn’t handle the rigorous trails with less air than they normally received. The previous night had been a full moon, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if he ran into a werewolf or two, who had taken refuge in the mountains. Having wandered into the forest far enough that he could no longer see trails on any side of him, he lay down on his back, legs stretched out and arms behind his head. He was wearing a casual black jacket, a powder blue shirt underneath, and a roughed up pair of blue jeans. His dog tags were tucked securely under his shirt as always, the metal hot from his body temperature.

In the summer mornings, 65° was about as cold as you could expect on the streets, and the mountains provided a further chill from the breeze running through. When the afternoon came, the jacket would be highly unnecessary, but the weather didn’t take the same affect on him as it once did. His chocolate brown eyes contained a glimmer of hope, which rarely found its way to the surface, something that wasn’t a daily presence anymore. But today, up in the cold mountain air, he had a wavering sense of hope that there was more left for him in this world other than war, and that he could settle his troubling thoughts without blinding fury. In this rare, acceptable mood Trey could be a shadow of what he once was; that Midwestern charmer, who wanted nothing more than to make his fragile mother proud, and to make life easier on his distressed father. This was the best mood to find Trey in; he was capable of polite conversation, and even creating new friendships. No less dangerous and explosive than normal, he would still be ready to fight anyone who felt the need to start one with him; the only change is that he would no longer be looking for one. The birds chirping around him grew louder, as more awoke, the day-loving nature around him coming alive. Snakes would no doubt be plentiful here, the most common would be the rattlesnake, but it no longer poised a threat to him. Most of the truly terrifying animals would now be retreating from the desert heat, coming out hunt in the moon’s gleam.

[Gwen Sommerly]

Gwen smiled to herself as she got out of her car and unloaded her easel and canvas. She set them down gently, leaning them against the side of her grey Beetle. She shut her trunk and walked around to her passenger side door and took out what would look like a tackle box to most, but really kept all her paints. Her oils, water colors, even some pastels and pencils, though they weren't really her medium of choice. No she was a painter. She ducked back into the passenger side of the car and returned with a jacket. It was chilly in the mornings, and she knew it would be even colder once she got further up into the mountain. But she would be there awhile so despite how cold it was now, she had still decided to wear a pair of tan shorts and a light green tank top. She didn't mind getting paint on them, the majority of her clothes had paint on them somewhere.

She pulled on the light grey jacket, locked up her car. She then shouldered her purse, tucked the canvas under her arm, and picked up her box of paints in her left hand and her easel in her right and started her long trek to the place where she wanted to paint. She watched her step carefully, she wasn't about to get bit by a snake. She had grown up with an outdoors loving father and older brother, so she had learned all about the dangers and how to do things safely, and this wasn't exactly her first hike up here to paint.

She continued hikng looking around every so often to make sure she didn't miss something that sparked some for of inspiration in her. So far though, there was nothing she felt compelled to paint, so she continued walking. That is until she tripped over something rather solid. Her canvas and easel both flew out of her hands and her box of paints had to be laying somewhere. She cursed and rolled over to see what she had tripped over, when she saw it was a man however she just blinked a few times before stammering out an apology. "I- Im sorry, I didn't see you there. Im such a clutz it's ridiculous" she managed to get out, a blushe heating her cheeks as she stood up brushing some leaves off.

[Trey Forze]

Trey could here that someone was approaching his little part of the forest, and he guessed human by the scent preceding them, and the amount of noise they made. If it were a vampire, they would’ve been silent, and sickly sweet, if it were a werewolf, there scent would’ve blended in with the environment and they would’ve been quieter than this human, but not like a vampire. In the distance, Trey could see the slender blonde approaching, and didn’t bother to move, he was comfortable on the ground, even if he was in the way. She was looking around as she walked into the clearing, with art supplies in her hands, and Trey could’ve predicted what happened next, yet made no move to avoid it, he assumed that cause her to be more startled and embarrassed. He felt her foot connect with his solid abs, and winced as he watched her topple over.

Smirking as she made her way back on her feet, he sprung up himself, and gathered her art supplies as she brushed leaves off herself. “It’s alright, miss, that’s what I get for laying up in a mountain.” He chuckled and stood up her easel, gently placing the canvas on it, wiping a smudge of dirt that had interrupted the pure white of the sturdy paper. He set the box of paints nearby, and looked on past it. The trees cleared, except for a few low-hanging branches, and the landscape of this desert mountain range lay out before them. The few other areas that were wooded could be seen, along with all the activity of the nature.

“Well, come look at this sight,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “I think this would a lovely place to paint.” He turned to smile at the ditzy girl. From the look of the sky, he could tell some of the clouds were opening up, letting the force of the sun out, and trapping him here for the majority of the day if the cover continued to disappear. This knowledge kept him behaving as the polite gentleman he was before war hardened him. It was unusual for him to be so polite, even in the mood he currently he was, he remained quiet, and direct. Had one of his friends been here, they would be amazed by the few words Trey had spoken, to a complete stranger. Generally, the only words he uttered to an unfamiliar person were swears before he punched whatever man angered him. Today seemed to be taking on a different tune for him.

[Gwen Sommerly]

She blushed even more at his next words. "I'm a clutz, but Im not normally so distracted that I don't even see a person on the ground." she said. She watched as he picked up her things and set them up. "Thank you, Im Gwen by the way, Gwen Sommerly" she said giving him a small smile. She was still a little embaressed from the previous events, but she figured she would try and befriend the man who she had so rudely stumbled over while she was distracted looking for inspiration.

She tilted her head a bit when he asked her to come look at the mountain scene. She walked over and took in the sight, it was beautiful and exactly what she wanted to paint. She grinned up at him and hurried over to her easel with the canvas on it, she adjusted it so that she could stand and be able to paint comfortably and then opened her box of paints and brushes. She picked up one brush and coiled her long blonde curls on the top of her head and put the brush in to hold them in place. She smiled back at the man. " This is exactly what I was looking for. " she said and picked up her paint pallet and tubes of white, dark blue, and light blue paints and started on the picture, her brush blending the colors and making light, graceful strokes across the canvas. She had a vision for the painting, though it was not entirely clear to her just yet. She picked up a tube of yellow and one of orange and blended them, she needed a orange clay color now for her moutain side. She continued painting the mountain side, pausing every so often to glance at the man she had tripped over

[Trey Forze]

Trey chuckled as the girl apologized to him again, and moved slightly to the side when she came over to look at the scene. He moved partially to allow her to see what lay ahead better and partly because he couldn’t remember the last time he fed, and that made her smell absolutely delicious. Gwen. It was an uncommon name, but he liked the sound of it. Barely knowing the girl before him, he sensed it fit her.

“Well Gwen, I’m Trey.” He replied, his voice sounding like a rocker as always, low and raspy. For so long it had been an annoyance to him, but as he grew older girls seemed to like his voice, and he started to accept it. When Trey was born, rock and roll didn’t even exist, not until his teenage years did rock and roll start to break out. Then it was still smooth talkers who sang, and the crisp voices like his didn’t enter the world until the late 60’s and 70’s, after Trey had been changed. Random people who heard him speak would tell him to sing, and that contributed to his current silence. Being in war, he was able to avoid the music of his generation, which he now cherished. The rasp also suggested drug use, but Trey had never so much as tried a drug in his life, he worked too hard as a child, and then joined the military where most boys rarely even drank. To this day it was still pointless, considering he was dead and it would have no effect.

As the girl gather her paints and started her artwork Trey moved to the side and sat down silently, except for the slightest jingle that may have come from his dog tags. He watched her hands at work, and as he felt her glance at him frequently he kept his own eyes on the painting, but a wide grin spread across his face, amused by the girl, and wondering what she could be thinking. When her eyes were on the painting he allowed himself to discreetly glance at her; she was a pretty little thing, perfectly golden hair framed her face, and her slender, but curved body would probably look good in absolutely anything. It looked like Trey had picked a good day to be kind to other people. He enjoyed the allowable silence now that she was painting, and he didn’t want to distract more than he already was, with her seeming as interested in him as he was in her.

[Gwen Sommerly]

She smiled at him when he told her his name. "Its very nice to meet you Trey." she said with a small giggle. He seemed like a nice guy, and he did help her find something to paint, and she had already tripped over the poor man and probably gave him a few bruises. She figured befriending him couldn't hurt anything, and besides she did love to make new friends.

She could feel his eyes on her as she painted, but every time she had turned around to glance at him he was watching what she was painting. She let out a small sigh and went back to looking at the mountain. She noticed small spots of purple dotting the green that obviously was grass. She squeezed a little bit of her purple, not much because she was already running low, and added small dots of purple to the green on her canvas. She then started on some of the trees that ran along the mountain using thin brush strokes for the leaves.

Gwen stepped back from the painting, giving it an apprasing look, and then smiled and scrawled her signature on the bottom of the canvas in black. It was finished, she couldn't imagine anything else to add to it. She turned around and stepped away from the picture and grinned at Trey. "It's done, what do you think?" she asked him, a bit nervous about his opinion of her artwork. She took criticism well, as long as it was constructive criticism.

[Trey Forze]

(Remember, we try to keep posts over 300 words here.)

Trey held a fist to his mouth, a crooked smile emerging, trying to hold back laughter when Gwen sighed in frustration at him. She painted with steady, graceful hands, and Trey wished his were of use other than for fighting. Looking at his perfectly formed bones and knuckles, and smooth skin, you would never know he fought. When he was changed during the war he grew overjoyed at the fact that he not only was immortal, but he healed faster. Old scars disappeared from his skin, and new ones never lasted long. Hid didn’t have the puffiness in his face that a loser would often have, not even puffy knuckles that came from winning a fight. No Trey regretted all that of course, with his friends either dead or in a nursing home, except the few that were changed in the war along with him. The only thing that could’ve spared him uneasiness now was dying back in battle because he hated growing old and as much as he hated living forever. At least he wasn’t old and immortal.

Glancing back at Gwen’s painting he noticed she was almost done and smiled. Putting down her materials, she stepped back and glanced at her artwork with the trained eye of any artist. No doubt she was critiquing it herself, keeping ideas in mind the next time she painted a landscape. Trey couldn’t do that, he was no more capable than a cat. He liked it or he didn’t and that was the extent of his artistic knowledge. Gwen had turned to him, asking his opinion. “Not that I know much about art, but I think it’s gorgeous.” He replied with a shy smile in response to her grin.

He shifted from his spot on the ground and looked back through the trees, at her painting, and then back at her. Not getting out much he wasn’t sure what to do now that she had finished painting. He didn’t know if he should feel obligated to say something else or offer a new activity. Other than his brothers, he only talked to drunk girls in the bar that were falling over him, and that wasn’t nearly as complicated.

[Gwen Sommerly]

She blushed when he stated his opinion. She knew for a fact that there were a few things that she could of done better or changed, but it was done now. She smiled at him again before looking back up, the blush still heating her cheeks a bit. "Thank you" she said her eyes meeting his briefly, before she turned back to her painting for a moment.

She left the picture and easel up, the painting needed to dry, and oils took a while to actually become fully dry, and she wasnt about to set the picture on the ground, no the safest place for it would be on her easel. She turned to her box of paints and quickly set to work cleaning her paint palette with one of the wet wipes she kept in the box, it was not nearly as clean as she would like but it would do for now. She put up the oil paints in there part of her box and then the brushes soon followed into a seperate area for them. She pulled the brush holding her hair up in a messy bun out and set it with the rest of her paint brushes and then shut and locked the box.

She turned back around and smiled at Trey again. She looked around trying to find something to talk about, but instead decided to just go and plop down beside him. She leaned her back against the tree supporting her and sighed. "I love it out here, its so quiet and peaceful. Its not like L.A, all bright lights and noise. Here you can actually see the stars, and I dont mean the idiots that the stupid tabloids are constantly following and writing about." she said with a small laugh. She loved being outdoors, camping was a definite favorite, but really if it was outside she could gurantee she would like if not love it.

[Trey Forze]

Trey smiled at the ‘thank you’ and watched her take apart the set-up she had. After watching her for so long he felt like she was flirting, but he couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, and whether or not he was accidentally flirting back. As she took her hair down Trey decided he liked it better that way, he never liked it much when a girl had her hair up, when he led a girl to his place he usually pulled out a ponytails they had in. Taking his eyes off her, he looked back at the painting, sitting to dry. He was curious as to why he hadn’t seen another canvas; he thought that if you were making a trek in a mountain to paint, you should always bring an extra, who knows if you’ll see something else interesting or if one gets snagged on a branch and tears.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it and took a spot next to Trey. If she was going to struggle for words also, this would be a long, awkward day; with hunger added, possibly unbearable. Trey agreed with what Gwen was saying. His home was only close to the city because he lived coast side, after fighting wars in desert-lands, being by cool water was not only relaxing, but heavenly. He snickered as she mentioned present day celebrities, with each passing year they grew worse, and when he was just a child, they were actually people you could look up to, and respect. Now they were addicts constantly in and out of rehab, adopting foreign babies, and ignoring the children who needed help in their own country. No one was more full of bullshit and conceited than the people Trey saw walking down the once beloved streets of Los Angeles.

“Much better than L.A., unless you’re on a beach, then they just about match.” He amended with a smile, “No, the night wouldn’t be beautiful without the stars and our ‘celebrities’ shouldn’t be compared to them.” He added; the word, celebrities, was coated with disgust in his voice, and for a moment hatred burned in his eyes. His eyes quickly returned to their normal, peaceful brown, as if nothing had happened to upset him, a calm mask upon his face, that rarely left, even in an argument.