Every Morning the World is Created.

[marla]

It was early morning, where the Earth's scent was at it's best with the fresh cut lawns and fresh air to fill the lungs. Marla often visited the gardens at the time of day to watch the sunrise's colours intertwine and mingle with one another. In the past, Marla had never been a morning person, more of a night walker where her power was at it's best, but recently she had been growing more anxious and impatient to feel the morning light upon her skin. In the morning, all of the senses of the Eath was heightened and made a person more vulnerable.
Marla wore a thin, cotton, brown spring dress. Though it was now fall, she loved to feel the cool breeze brush against her skin and the feel of it running through her tangled, unruly hair. Marla loved to exceed the span of her senses. One could say as she were a rush whore. The feel of the goosebumps zimmering along her skin, the shine of the light in her eyes, the feeling of being absolutely free and alive. She longed to be in this serenity all her life.
Inhale. Exhale. Marla breathed deeply, lingering in the moment of the morning's awakening. And she walked slowly on the concrete path that lead around the park, carrying a small basket cradled in her arms filled with wild flowers and herbs. Her eyes roamed around the different sights that the fall season had to offer, watching the trees shed their brown and orange leaves, readying themselves for the winter to come. A small droplet of rain fell onto her arm, and she knew that the morning drizzle was to pass over her soon. It didn't rain, but showered gently upon park and there wasn't hardly a soul bothered by it. In London, most were used to such a bipolar climate and didn't acknowledge it as a bad thing.
Just as quickly as the shower had started, it stopped and the sun grinned merrily again. Marla stopped walking as she reached a grassy area with a large pond filled with ducks and ducklings. Her smile brightened up her features as she took of her ballerina slippers and placed them in her basket. Barefoot, she walked toward the ducks and pulled out some bread from her basket before tossing the crumbs to the ground for them to eat. Noticing the duck droppings, she frowned and put her slippers back on with a nervous, barely audible laugh coming from her vocal chords.
Marla stopped passing out food as some of the ducks fought over it, and carefully walked away from them to get closer to a bench sitting in front of the pond. She sat on the bench and folded her hands over her basket as an old maid would have, and watched the sun's reflection dance over the water. The wind picked up, causing Marla to give a slight shiver, and smile. This made her feel aware, reminding her that she was truely alive and not in a dream world as she often believed she was in.

[sylvain]

It had been a long night. Visibly so, if one looked at Sylvain. He had bags under his red eyes, and his clothing was a little worse for the wear. His hair was trapped under a castro-style of hat. He walked through the park and stumbled once, or twice. He liked it here, it was calm and relatively empty. It was a place where the voices were not so persistant, and often they were non existant.

He dropped onto a bench, not noticing there was a woman there. He leaned back, his head tilting backwards and his eyes closing as he groaned slightly. his mouth opened wide as his arms stretched far to the sides. His fist tapped the woman there on the shoulder, and he started. He was suddenly awake and standing, bleary eyes glued to the woman he hadn't noticed.

"f... sorry"

His voice was soft, as always, as though he were afraid of intruding on someone's private thoughts. It also held the moderate french accent that he had tried relatively hard to eliminate over the years, but had given up on getting rid of recently. Sylvain's hand lifted and grabbed ahold of his hat and moved it back and forth, as though he were scratching his head.

[marla]

A man came stumbling onto the bench, and Marla surpressed the laugh building up inside of her. He looked worn for wear, as if he had been partying all night and hadn't had an ounce of sleep. His skin was lighter than hers, and his hair longer and straight. The corners of her pale lips couldn't help but twitch into a peculiar smile as the man's hand bumped against the cool skin of her shoulder. From the small touch, her power flared as his skin was warmer than hers, and she felt suddenly cold.

Gossebumps ran along her skin as the man stood staring at her with his bloodshot eyes, almost as if he were frightened. The corners of her lips pulled into a frown, and she raised a quizzical brow at the man's apology. His voice was soft, distant, and had the hint of an accent. French?

Marla smirked and patted the seat next to her where the man had been sitting, motioning for him to join her. Was he frightened of her? Had he somehow learned of her power by that single touch? Did he know of the supernatural world she had so long been wanting to find? Questions ran through her mind, unsettling her and exciting her, but she didn't let it show on her face. Her expression stayed pleasant, with a knowing smile and intense gaze. She was an expert at hiding her emotions. An expert at being as cold and numb as the dead she raised, she was.

"Oh, it's alright. Sit down, you look like a train wreck." She giggled heartily, then after realizing she might had offended him frowned.

"I mean, not that you look bad, you just look tired and.." Marla trailed off as she failed miserably to cover up what she had earlier said and laughed at herself, rubbing the bridge of her delicate nose.

[sylvain]

He continued to stare, his hands dropping to the pockets of his jeans. It had been a long night, and he really did need to sit down. Still, she seemed a bit strange. His paranoia was kicking in and telling him to run, but instead he just twitched a couple times. He was good at resisting urges when he was high, which was pretty well all the time. Including now. She was darker than people he was used to seeing, a little more unkempt too. Believe it or not Sylvain hung around with a pretty nice crowd, when there was a crowd.

His head snapped back to reality as she started to pat the seat beside her. Why did she want him to sit there? There must be a trap. His hands dug deeper into his pockets and he let his eyes shift from hers, and towards the path behind him, having caught a glimmer of conversation from a passing couple. His head snapped back and he looked to the bench again. It looked so inviting. Slowly, he took a seat on the bench, on the farthest possible edge from her.

"Thank you"

He looked up again, though he didn't relax in the seat like he had when he hadn't known she was there. He was more tense, and his eyes kept flitting over to her whenever she moved. It was sort of sudden when he sat up straight and turned his head back to the path, where an early morning jogger was running. He stared for a moment as though terribly interested in what was happening. He wasn't, but he had a feeling that something might, just... The jogger fell, and Sylvain snickered slightly before turning away, again.

"uhm... you're... up early?"

He had just felt like he should say something, to break the silence. Perhaps he wanted to get to know the person he was sitting beside more. Really, he just wasn't used to the quiet in his head.

[marla]

Marla watched the man, a little more cautiously this time. His eyes looked wild and his hands were slipping down into his pockets. Her lithe frame tensed as his hands went deeper, as if they were going to break through. Did he have a knife in there? The man looked back toward the path for a second, and Marla wondered if he was looking for anyone to witness what he was possibly about to do. Was he going to try and hurt her? Of course, it was a silly thought. No one in their right mind would attack in broad daylight, and Marla had an overwhelming paranoia. But she smiled, and looked content. Her well created mask covering up the blotches and emotions in her soul.

The man sat down next to where she was patting the bench. And he didn't relax. He was more tense than he had been before and sat as far as he could. This made Marla raise a quizzical brow. What was wrong with this guy? As the silence wore on, he finally broke it. There was a jogger and the man had been staring at him intensely, as if waiting for something to happen, or maybe willing something to happen. In that instant, the jogger fell as if he tripped over something. Marla's head snapped back at the man, almost glaring, but stopped herself. No, he couldn't have done that. That was silly. Unless he was a witch like she was. A bad witch..

"uhm... you're... up early?"

This made Marla jump, the suddeness of his voice. She hadn't expected it.
"Yea, I guess so. The world just seems more...fresh. So, what do they call you?" She said in reply and smiled her brilliant, most genuine smile.

Trying to lighten the mood, she scooted closer to him and placed her basket where she had been sitting in a casual manner. She was trying not to appear as if she wanted to get closer to him, but just get the basket out of her arms. Now, this close, she could try and read his aura. The energy coming from him was spazzing in and out, and it confused her. Nothing she had ever encountered before. There was something supernatural afoot, and Marla wanted in on it.

[sylvain]

He heard some shuffling beside him, and he turned his head. She was getting closer, in arms reach again, easy arms reach. At least she didn't have the basket, who knew what would be in that basket. Under the other nonthreatening things, of course. His mind was running through the possibilities, knives, pistols. DAMN, maybe she had a fricken rifle in there. No... No Sylvain that was ridiculous, those sorts of things were in instrument cases, not baskets.

She was talking, He started a little bit himself, though he ahd been expecting it. He looked straight forward and answer her, even before she was quite done speaking.

"Sylvain, my name is Sylvain..."

he finished a little slower than he had started, blurting out his name at first. He turned his head slowly and glanced at the woman beside him. Breath, in, out, in out. He was nervous, of course, as was his want to be around other people. Still, there weren't any voices yet, nothing threatening death, or angry. Why were there always so many angry voices?

"uhm... sorry, how about yourself?"

[marla]

Marla's smile started to falter, but it recovered quickly and encouragingly. Sylvain, was it? An interesting name, indeed. She looked Sylvain in the eyes, almost as if she were looking through his body to peer into his soul. That was how she always felt when she really looked. Reading body language and eyes were her expertise. And Sylvain seemed truely afraid of her. Was there some way he knew that she was a necromancer? Of course, there was no way to tell. Maybe he thought she was evil? Did she have WITCH written all over her face?

"Marla." She stated, no emotion showing. Blank.

She turned away, feeling as though she were staring for too long. The once fresh and peaceful morning was starting to become awkward and creepy. Wasn't this sort of thing supposed to happen at night? Maybe this was a good thing. He could be the link she had been looking for. but how would she find out? She couldn't just..ask him.

Marla laughed out loud, quick and random. She did this often, and since no one knew what she was thinking, they found her odd and often drifted away from her. She grinned and reached her hand out to him to shake it in greeting.

"Well, Sylvain. How would you like to join me for breakfast? You look hungry. My treat." She offered.

[sylvain]

The way she spoke, without emotion. He'd heard about emotionless people, sociopaths? something like that. He knew they were murderers. Just another mark against her, in his mind. She also seemed a little bit... nervous? about something. He didn't like that either, there were just so many things he wasn't pleased about. He especially wasn't pleased with the morning, too cold, too early.

Breakfast? did she mention breakfast? It did sound like a good idea, then again, so did sleep. He looked up into the air, breathing in and holding his breath as he thought. Sometimes when he thought like this, holding his breath, something would come to him to decide either way when he felt like he was about to pass out. Still, this time when he exhaled he was still just as blank as when he had started.

"uhm, someplace public..."

He agreed to a meal, afterall, why would someone turn down a free meall. Even if Marla seemed a little untrustworthy, to him, it was difficult to him to turn anything down when he didn't have to pay. Especially when it was a meal.

[marla]

OOC//: I started a new thread for us to continue in. 'The Trick is to Keep Breathing' under clubs n pubs: Myth. ^^