Suicide is Painless (o)

[Janson Mark]

Janson sat next to a grave in Greensboro Cemetery in Alabama. He leaned forward and brushed the dirt from the name and traced the name with his dirt encrusted fingers. He had been attacked by some nondescript vampires with a grudge. He might have done something to them in the past, but he doubted it. They probably just smelled me and got pissed. That had been four days ago and he had been walking ever since. It had been imperative that he be here on time, and he had failed. No matter what he had been here on time for twenty years and he worried what would happen to him because of his tardiness. It was the grave of the very first person he had killed in a moonlit rage. It made him feel better, and reminded him that he had to keep himself under control and what a monster he was.

Even though Xander Lawrence had been killed in Paris, France, he had been born in Alabama and had been sent back to the States to his parents when his mangled body had been found in the back road where he had been killed. Janson had found out who he had murdered after that first night and he had found himself covered in blood, shivering in a dumpster.

Janson jerked himself out of his memories and took a deep breath and let his hand drop to his side and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other hand. Damn it. I'm never going to get to go to sleep after this. He didn't know exactly why it was so important that he be at the grave by the exact day of Lawrence's death, but it seemed like he would just go crazy if he didn't... and this year he had missed it, all because of some damn leeches who had a grudge against a wolf that might or might not have been him. "Bullshit. I can't believe this." He knew that he was over-reacting but it had just become so important to him over the years with the repetition.

Janson sat down on his backside in front of the grave and crossed his legs, leaning back on the headstone and making a vow that he would stay here for the same amount of time that he had been late by (three days) and make sure that no one came and tried to mess with this grave. "Though why someone would want to do that when they haven't in over twenty years. But i need to do something to make it up to him." He leaned his head back and looked up at the stars and rifled in his pockets and pulled out a cheap cigar and lit it up.

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[Vienna Charavelli]

(Mind if I pop in here?)

Vienna was walking through the graveyard where her dearest friend was buried years ago, because they thought if they were out at 1 a.m. in a big city that nothing would happen to them, but they were wrong. She was sixteen, her friend seventeen, and they were up visiting Chicago, and had gotten lost and were yelling and laughing in a worse part of town. At first, the screaming they heard was quiet, and as it escalated they grew silent, a door slammed and a boy walked out, more soon came out of other houses. What happened after that was a blur, she just knew that Ariel had died, and she herself was covered in bruises. She had called Ariel’s parents crying, after calling the cops to get out of there. She returned to her old friend’s home of Alabama for her funeral and Vienna found herself visiting when she was lost in her life. She was laying by her grave when she sensed someone else nearby, now that she let herself go, and evaluate the things around her. She went stiff, werewolf, she hadn’t met one before.

She scrambled to pull out a cigarette, and old habit, but then realized she had no lighter on her, but the werewolf did. That meant speaking to him and she didn’t know if he was friend or foe, or what kind of mood he may be in. She sat there for what seemed like forever, unlit cigarette in her hand, while the other ruffled her messy, brown hair. Be brave Vienna, She told herself, Ariel would want you to be brave, she always admired that, and look at you now…coward.

She cleared her throat and looked cautiously towards the man; he didn’t seem to be violent. “Uhmm, hey, would you mind lighting this up for a fellow mourner?” She asked as nonchalantly as she could muster, holding her cigarette slightly out towards him. Well, at least he won’t take me as a threat, I couldn’t make myself more of a fool if I tried. Her eyes faltered from him back to the headstone behind her, and tears immediately entered her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. After all of the years that had passed, she regretted nothing more, and never would. Her hand had lowered in her little bit of grief, and she looked back at the boy, just wanting a lit cigarette, he didn’t even have to talk to her again, they could just sit in the silence of the night, mourning their losses. And what Vienna would give to get her friend back, she wish she had died back there, it was her job to protect Ariel, she may have been younger, but she was smart and fearless. She should’ve sacrificed her life for Ariel’s, and now she was sitting her immortal, never to see her friend again.

[Janson Mark]

[[ooc. Not even a little bit ]]

Janson started at the sound of another voice. He had been too caught up in his own thoughts to smell the vampire that he smelled almost too much now. He tensed every muscle in his body immediately and then relaxed just as quickly. Simmer down. She just wants a light. Can't hate a girl just for being a smoker. He looked down on his own cigar and he let a grin spread across his face. He beckoned with his finger as he pulled out a battered matchbook. "I've had these matches for as long as I can remember. Of course I have used lighters and other books, but these have stayed with me for my whole life."

He was nostalgic like that. It was the only thing that his biological father had left him and, even though Janson had been abandoned by the man, it was nice to keep a momento of the life that could never have been. He didn't mind using them, in fact he had been wanting to use them up before he got rid of them. The paper the cover was made out of was very cheap and he was surprised that it had held up even this long. Then again, I did pretty much protect it with my life.

Janson stood up and took a few steps over to the vampire, and held out his hand after wiping it on his pants first. He didn't like shaking hands with people who had dirty hands and he was sure that other people didn't like it either so he did the best he could under the circumstances.

"My name is Janson Mark. May I ask what they call you?" He let his eyes meander around the girl's appearance. She looked young but you could never tell with vamps, and he didn't really want to know. It kind of ruined it for him when he learned that the pretty young think winking at him from the bar was over five-hundred.

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[Vienna Charavelli]

Vienna smiled when Janson jumped at the sound of her voice too and she was glad to know that she at least wasn’t the only one a little anxious. She leaned towards him and got her cigarette lit, taking a long drag and already feeling the relaxation it brought along with it. She grinned, thinking it was sweet that he had kept a pack of matches for however long, for some reason. Vienna had never had that kind of attachment to any object, only to the person themselves. As he walked closer her own nerves finally started to settle, it seemed as if her first encounter with a werewolf would be a good one. She was happy, she never understood the grudge their kind seemed to have against each other, but she didn’t want any part of it. She found herself looking him up and down; at about the same time he seemed to be sizing her up. As he offered his hand Vienna wiped her own off, it couldn’t be that clean after sitting on the ground.

She clasped his hand and used it as balance as she pulled herself up to stand facing Janson. She liked his name; Janson was just different enough to be original and memorable, but still strong. “I’m Vienna.” She replied smiling lightly. She looked up at the sky, seeing that within a couple days the moon would be full, there was just a sliver missing now, she was curious what it was like for them to change. She might be immortal and live on blood, but at least she never turned into an animal. She dropped her hand back to her side, and tried to think quickly of something to say.

“I’m sorry; I’ve never met a werewolf.” She found herself blurting out and then slapped herself on the head and left her hand there, covering her face. “That’s embarrassing I just kind of didn’t know what to say and all.” She peaked out at him from between her fingers, feeling like the child she was, at least, in vampire terms. “You can just pretend that I didn’t say that.” She added dropping her hand from her face, and smiling nervously at him again. Her wide eyes and teeth were gleaming in the moonlight, and her hair reflecting the silver light. That was one thing she liked about being a vampire, it may have been true when she was human also, but Vienna now noticed more how she reflected the night, and how well it made her pale skin look, maybe it was all this time in the dark.