Your Eyes Are So [Haunting];;

[Ebony Wynter]

The cemetery. A haunting place where those who have passed on are laid to rest. What happens after death? It was an idle thought as Ebony passed through the rounded stones of the dead. It was an old cemetery, part of the original town, and some of the names were worn on the rough surfaces of the tomb stones. Worn and tired, simply existing because time hadn't completely washed away the memories of the dead. Not completely, but someday they would be. Just random bodies scattered beneath the ground. Nothing on the bones and covered in dirt. Death was lonely. Or so Ebony thought. Lonely. No one would ever remember you. Unless you died in some horrific way. Like the people at the school had died. 333. What was going on?

Ebony was a strange boy. A very strange boy. Quiet and thoughtful, words didn't come easily to him. His art expressed more than he did. Which was why he was in the cemetery to begin with. There was a camera in his hands. Not the digital kind that people used to take Myspace pictures with. An expensive camera with film you took into a dark room. He had been taking pictures. Of the cemetery. Of the worn stones. Of the dead. Striking pictures that would later portray a deep sadness. A deep and haunting quality that a lot of Ebony's work showed.

His onyx hair fell into his lovely green eyes. Ocean eyes, they had once been called. The color went forever into unknown depths. They weren't haunted, exactly. There wasn't anything lingering in them. There was a tinge of sadness, not always well masked, but it revealed itself in moments like these. In moments where Ebony created art.

A click. Ebony had just taken a picture. A falling down headstone, so long forgotten, and its neighbor crumbling next to it. A barren tree stood with its slender branches raised to a brilliant blue sky. There were no leaves on the tree. Dead. Like the rest of the inhabitants. But Ebony was alive and breathing. The only person alive and breathing. He took a deep breath, expecting to smell the taint of death, but smelled nothing but the cool air. Rain filled and moist. His gaze lingered on the tree for a moment before falling away. He turned gracefully and walked to the edge of the grounds. A black iron fence enclosed the cemetery in a circle. The ends of it were spikes in a swirling pattern. Ebony leaned his slender arms between those black spikes and stared out blankly.

[Regan Jenkins]

RJ was walking through the cemetery. Why? Because she had nothing better to do. Well, not really, she should have been practicing swimming, but for once she was actually tired of the water, which had shocked even her. She had been intrigued with the history of the town, so she had stopped by the library on the way to the pool, and started doing research. Research is what led her to the cemetery.

They were here. This was where they were buried. The three kids who had died all those years ago, and the ones who had died only just recently. She didn’t know why she wanted to see their graves. Maybe she had a slight morbid side to her? Or there was some invisible force drawing her there. She could actually laugh at that. She wasn’t one for superstitions, and some invisible and majickal force was not drawing her there. She was just curious, and she wasn’t a cat.

She was actually reading as she walked the dead place. Reading a part of a newspaper she had copied. It had taken her forever to find the ten cents in the bottom of her shoulder bag to pay for the simple sheet of paper that had black ink placed on it. But oh well, it was worth it, the paper might come in handy later on. Being a writer on the school newspaper required research, and the page she had copied was about the murders long since past. Who knows, maybe someday she’d write an article about them. If she ever got the chance to write that was. She was busy with the swim team, not to mention she had yet to meet the editor to even get her first assignment. Silently RJ cursed herself. She should be enjoying her quiet peaceful moments. They didn’t come often. And just because she was spending them in a cemetery didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy them.

Flipping open the flap of her beige shoulder bag, she placed the paper inside between several spiral notebooks and her math book. She hated math, she needed to finish her homework. But not now, she had finally found what she had been looking for. She stopped her knee length black layered skirt swaying slightly at the suddenness of it. She brushed her long black hair behind her shoulders, before kneeling before the first of three graves. Her black heels dug slightly into the soft ground as she did so, and she had to pull her black shirt (what can I say? She likes to match in colours) down to re-cover her lower back.

Her bag slipped from her shoulder, falling onto the ground with a slight thud as she ran her fingers over the name carved into the stone. Who could murder three innocent teenagers? What had they done to deserve such a fate? Surely it wasn’t that bad, and what did they all have in common? Damnit, she hated them questions, brought out the journalist in her. Made her forget that she liked swimming and made her want to search for the answers. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to the cemetery; it only got her more curious.

(OoC: wohoo, the crappiness. Oh well, I figured I got accepted I should post, and what do you know, Aiden has the only un-answered open thread ^.^ At least I think it's open... and sorry if it's not. I'm just bored... like really bored.)

[Ebony Wynter]

Ebony watched silently as someone entered the cemetery. He held still, thinking that if he were to move then she would notice him. Regan Jenkins was the girl who entered. A popular. There was the whole clashing of cliques that prevented Ebony from speaking to her. Ebony's silent nature didn't help with that, either. Or the fact she was a girl. So he stared straight ahead, blue-green eyes focusing on the tree in front of him, and held as still as humanly possible. A slight breeze ruffled the blue-black hair the hung around his ivory face. It fell into his eyes. Made his eyes itch. Oh, it was almost unbearable. He closed the alabaster lids to try and blink it away. Ebony didn't want to move. Didn't want to bring a hand up to brush away the shiny pieces of hair. That would draw attention, and Ebony didn't want attention. Didn't want anything that would draw anyone to him. He talked to a few members that were also artists, but it was only a couple. And despite the fact that Ebony was older than Regan, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but dread at a possible human contact.

Opening his eyes, Ebony realized the hair hadn't moved out of his face. He tried blinking it away. It was a futile effort. The shimmering pieces had gotten stuck in his long, onyx eyelashes. Out of nervous habit, Ebony bit his full lower lip. He grabbed the black messenger back he had thrown near the fence and attempted to leave. Casting a glance over his frail shoulder, Ebony noticed Regan kneeling in front of one of the tomb stones. He tilted his head slightly. Was she genuinly curious about the murders? Ebony stood there, with his gaze over his shoulder, and suddenly realized how wonderful a picture it would make. He could see it in subdued colors. Faded colors. A girl leaning and resting fingertips gently on a tombstone in an utterly blank and hopeless cemetery. Ebony wanted to take a picture. He even felt his long, slender fingers twitch. Twitch in anticipation for taking a beautiful picture. But that would violate Regan's privacy. But it was so tempting.

Ebony frowned. Glorious lips tugging down in slight frustration. His artist's mind told him to seize the opportunity, but the other half of his mind said she might be incredibly pissed. Oh well, it was a risk for beautiful work. Ebony brought the camera up near his face. He hesitated, positioned the camera, and snapped a picture. If it turned out then it would be grand. Sliding the bag over his shoulder, Ebony turned fully and started walking away. Away from Regan. Away from the cemetery. Away from death.

[Regan Jenkins]

Regan was too intrigued with the grave to hear the click of a camera, at first. After a moment the sound registered and she turned towards the noise just in time to see a skinny black haired kid turn to walk away. She stared at his back for a moment, trying to remember who he was. She had seen him around... Not exactly her type, seeing as all her boyfriends were on one type of school team or another. Ebony Wynter! That's who he was. She smiled triumphantly as she remember. She had seen him at the newspaper room. Hadn't ever actually talked to him, but she knew he was a writer as well, seeing as she read every article in the paper, she had read his too.

She stood up, grabbing her bag. "Ebony!" she called to him, and it wasn’t an angry call, she was just trying to catch his attention. He'd probably be surprised she remembered his name, slightly surprised herself. She walked towards him, trying to think of what to say to him. She wasn’t upset that he took her picture, she was used to camera’s always snapping around her, well not really, but when you’re friends with chicks that like their pictures taken, you get used to it. Not to mention she knew Ebony was a good photographer… or at least she thought he was from what she had seen in the newspaper. He kept the rest of his stuff more private, and her being a popular wasn’t one to see them items.

She walked towards him, trying to catch up and walked as fast as her heels would let him. Damned things. She stopped and pulled them off her feet. She then started walking again, heels in hand, and actually being able to move faster. The cool grass felt good on her bare toes. She still didn’t know what to say. Maybe just let him go on his way? But she had already called his name, so now she had to talk to him. She was a nice person, regardless the clique she traveled with. She tried to treat everyone the same, even if they were a little odd.

She finally caught up with him, and grabbed hold of his elbow lightly to stop him. Probably not the best of ideas seeing as she didn’t really know him. “I… erm… uh… hi?” yeah, she probably sounded like an idiot, not at all like her clique. But she hated to admit that she actually admired Ebony, to an extent. He was an excellent writer, maybe he could teach her to be better?

[Ebony Wynter]

"Ebony!

He paused for a moment to consider speaking to her. Only for a moment and continued walking. She was behind him, trying to catch up with him for some reason, and Ebony slowed his graceful walk. There was a light pressure on his elbow now. Regan had caught up with him and touched the smooth skin of his elbow to make him stop. Ebony's eyes widened in surprise as he turned to look at her. An onyx eyebrow raised in question as the wind made his midnight hair flutter around his heart-shaped face. Regan was catching up to him to say hello? What was the world coming to? Ebony blinked, surprised, and noticed she had taken her shoes off to walk faster. It must be a sign the world was ending.

Ebony knew Regan, at least by name, because they were both writers for the newspaper. He knew little about her. Just her age, her name, a few tidbits here and there, and the fact she was a popular. Granted, she didn't seem like a total bitch. It was just that people outside of the artists clique didn't talk to Ebony. He was quiet, awkward, and generally not someone you wanted to hang around with. People though he was weird, depressed, and far too serious. Maybe Ebony was weird, he did have depression, but he wasn't serious. Just very shy and very quiet.

Looking away, Ebony focused his blue-green orbs (lol, Shar) on his camera. On the black camera in his hands. They stared there to keep his eyes away from Regan. Eye contact made Ebony exceptionally uncomfortable? "Uh. Hi," Ebony muttered shyly, looking at the ground and chewing on his full bottom lip. The piercing met with his teeth and made a soft click noise. Blue-black hair fell into his face and eyes, obscuring them, as Ebony focused on something else.

"D-did you want something?" Ebony asked, stuttering slightly, and frowned. Human contact was horrid. Absolutely horrid. Inside, Ebony yelled at himself for being such an idiot. You didn't act like that around a popular. They could be mean, rude, and viscious. Regan would only go to tell her little friends and pretty soon there would be yet another rumor about Ebony. There were already a few. Idiotic rumors about how he was abused as a younger boy. Maybe Ebony was abused, but it certainly wasn't by his parents. They loved him dearly. The youth's gaze flitted to Regan again and back to the ground where he winced. Damn his awkwardness.

[Regan Jenkins]

RJ hesitated as he turned towards her. She didn’t fully know what to do. Dangit, she shouldn’t have called out to him. Should have just let him continue on his way. But no, she was the sort to try and talk to everyone she met. It was a trait her father had always told her was going to get her into trouble some day. But she had never really been a shy person. Even now she wasn’t being shy, she was just at a loss for words. She had never talked to Ebony before, and before this point she had never expected to speak to him, unless of course they were assigned to work on the same article. But he was cute... in that odd emo way that for some reason she found herself ever so slightly, though very sercretly, attracted to. But don’t get me wrong, she’d date a jock before she’d date an artist. Gotta keep them appearances up you know.

”D-did you want something?” he stuttered out.

She watched him, noticing he kept his orbs (I had to ^.^) from hers. She would have taken the question as rude, if it weren’t for the stutter. He was uncomfortable around her; she picked up that vibe the moment he had turned around. But she wasn’t sure she could blame him. She was sure he was nervous around her because of her “friends”. The popular’s were really jackasses, and she only fit in with them because of her father’s money and the rich clothes he bought her... not to mention the jeep wrangler she had gotten for her sixteenth birthday. It was expected of her to hang out with them; then again, they were about the only people she seemed to fit in with. The only artistic ability she had was writing, and sure she got passing grades, but nowhere near good enough to be considered a smartie. Damned cliques.

She shrugged; she didn’t really want anything. “No,” she shrugged again looking down at the shoes in her hand and began to play with the thin cloth ankle strap, “not really. I just saw you here, and thought maybe you’d like some company?” He might like some company, but most likely not hers. If she did manage to get him to let her hang around for a bit, they’d need a topic to discuss... or at least something other than awkward silence. RJ liked swimming and writing. That was about it. Shopping was fun, but only to an extent. The only thing she figured she’d have in common with Ebony would be the writing. “I was thinking about asking for my next writing assignment to be the art show coming up. You’re having some photo’s in it aren’t you?” That’s when she wondered if he even knew who she was... surely he did, they did after all write on the same newspaper.

[Ebony Wynter]

Ebony tried his hardest not to look at her. It was just this had to be a trick. The populars had gotten together and decided to tease Ebony senseless. They had left him well enough alone since he came to this school, but they had spread a few nasty rumors about him. Ebony was an untrusting individual as it was, but why go and try to make friends with the very clique who had started some pretty nasty rumors. Ebony was not gay! He was merely feminine. Granted, they were half correct. Ebony brushed those thoughts away and stared at the grass. Really, the grass wasn't as interesting as Regan. If there was one thing on this earth that was less interesting than RJ it would be grass. Or maybe paint drying, but you get the idea.

Company? That made Ebony look up with a startled expression on his delicate little features. Company? Like, hanging out? Ebony's eyes widened, the blue orbs growing in size on his face. Words had escaped Ebony now. His onyx eyebrows came together slightly as he stared at Regan in quiet astonishment. "You mean," Ebony paused and looked away, "you want to stay here? With me? I mean--" Ebony stopped abruptly and blushed. His pale cheekbones had an expanding red color. He had just rambled and made a complete idiot of himself. Taking a step back, Ebony tried to speak. He couldn't. The words had dried up in the back of his throat. They left a faint dusty taste that was starting to become a choking mass.

Ebony listened to her continue talking. She really was quiet a talkative bugger. The opposite of Ebony, actually. He was too wrapped up in his little blunder that her words didn't penetrate his mind for a few moments. Art show? Oh! She was wanting to write for the art show! Of course Ebony had photographs in there. They weren't the sad ones he had taken today, but more brighter and colorful ones. "Er, yeah. I have some of my photography in it." Again, Ebony stuns the world with his completely awesome verbal skills. The 'er' in there really set it off. It was a wonder Ebony was still single. He mentally assaulted himself for being so stupid and idiotic in front of a popular!

It was best to just leave. Ebony shrugged hopelessly and took another step away from her. "I should be going," Ebony said with his quiet voice and glorious British accent. Situating the strap of his messenger bag of his frail shoulder, Ebony turned and started walking. He hadn't made it that far from her when Ebony suddenly felt guilty. He had been rude to someone, a girl of all people, who was just trying to be nice to him. To start up a conversation with him. With a pained expression and a sigh, Ebony turned to face Regan again. There was some distance between them. That would only mean Ebony's words would have to be slightly louder. Berating himself mentally, Ebony shrugged. It was best to get it over with. "Uh, you want to come with me?" Casanova. Ebony was obviously a real ladies' man. Gah, Ebony felt stupid. He really shouldn't, and he knew that, he just did. It wasn't like he was asking Regan out on a date or anything!

[Regan Jenkins]

Regan frowned, now what else could she possibly mean by “would you like some company”? Then again, he might not want her around… seeing as she had heard some things about him. But she was one to never believe a rumor, most of the time they ended up false. Unless she had seen what the rumor was about herself, she didn’t believe it. It was just the kind of person she was. And she wasn’t one to start rumors either. She’d tell the truth about someone or something, but things had a way of being twisted from person to person. That’s why she had started to refrain from telling anything unless it was important and on “need to know” basis. She stood in her spot, messing around with the shoe strap as she watched Ebony. He was blushing! She actually couldn’t believe it, she didn’t think anyone had ever... well, that wasn’t true, many people had blushed around her but she’d been too busy to notice. She tried not to giggle at it; she even moved a hand to cover her lips to hide it. It wasn’t polite to laugh at another’s discomfort as her mother had always told her.

She looked at him with bright brown orbs as he confirmed to having photography in the art show. She knew he’d have some there; all the artists had some piece in it. She was actually excited about the show. In Quebec she’d been to several galleries with her father, as he was a big art fan. He even had a re-make of Marc Chagall’s “The Violinist” hung in the foyer. She was glad that he hadn’t given her any of the artwork from home for her dorm though. She liked several of the paintings around the house, but she still had a taste of her own, and wanted to select her own artwork for her living space. But the schools art show would not only give her the chance to write an article for the paper, but it’d also give her a chance to meet more of the classmates out of her clique.

Then he spoke again, and she noted that the rumors of him being British were true. But she thought accents were sexy, so it was all good. She frowned a little, slightly disappointed that he was leaving. But you couldn’t blame her for trying; she was one for stepping outside the lines of the cliques after all. She watched as he took several steps away. Well, she could always hang out in the cemetery a bit longer; see how far back the dates on the graves went. But then he turned around again.

She looked up at him, studying him with her brown orbs. Now he wanted her to join him. She arched a brow, but only for a moment. Then a genuine smile crossed her lips, doing anything with him would surely be better then hanging around a cemetery all day. “I’d love to come with you,” she stated before taking several steps to close the gap between them. She place a hand on his arm for balance as she began to slip her heels back on, gaining her two more inches in height. 5’7” wasn’t completely short, but it was too short for her liking, she wanted to be taller, hence the heels. But she could always use a good pair of sneakers. “Where are we going?” She adjusted the strap on her shoe, then let go of his arm.