Ghost me baby, one more time {Eryle}

[Roxy St. James]

Well, talk about the freaking week from hell…quite literally. After her little adventure into the park- which would forever be known as ‘Hot Night Turned Confusing As All Hell’ in her warped little mind- she’d done the coffee and small talk thing with a guy she was half tempted to skewer, then had taken her leave. She’d needed some space to get used to the fact that there was someone out there who had the ability to play with her mind and her emotions, and tried to decide whether or not she wanted to forgive him or not.

In the end, she decided that she was most pissy at him for taking away that precious sense of control that she favored so much. Did she mind the wild monkey sex in the public park? Not really. Did she like the fact that she wasn’t the one driving every single little act? Hell yes.

She was a control freak and she was proud of it. Thank God for lots of Tylenol, chocolate and getting brow beaten by her sisters.

And now, on to today’s disaster in the making! TGIF and all that crap, but when did a girl like her get to take a day off, when her boss was demanding the story of the century? After doing coffee and cuddling- she still rankled at her cat’s little slip in the coffee shop- with Mr. Half-demon, she hadn’t had enough time to make up a suitable story…not to mention that her previous promise not to publish any of the photos she’d taken. So, empty handed and bracing herself for the shit storm, she’d gone into work without anything to run.

Del had not been pleased. Actually, he’d been so damn angry, that a little blood vessel had popped on his forehead, making her quite sick and the man in question just a bit on the wheezy side. Del had ended up giving that swine Randal the front cover with his piece of crap story about two headed babies, everyone in the office now thought that she was a slacker, and that lovely bonus she’d been hoping to get had been flame broiled, along with her chance at a corner office.

All in all, she was confident in thinking that things couldn’t get any worse.
Now, if only Del hadn’t ordered her to sit in the local graveyard, looking for a goddamn ghost. THEN she could say that her confidence was warranted. ARGH!

Holding her camera in her hand, Roxy sat in the middle of the graveyard, surrounded by stone angel faces and crumbling tombstones. Just where she wanted to be on a freaking Friday night, right? Just where every woman wanted to be!

”Maybe I can go bash my brains out on one of these crypts and haunt Del for all eternity,” She muttered, squinting at one scary looking cherub. ”I bet I can get him into the looney bin in less than a week.”




((Gah, so I'm going off of memory for this one, since it's been a while since I thought about Roxy. Was this what we talked about? XD If not, I can definitely redo it!))

[Eryle Darlusk]

"So wait, right in the middle of the park?", the little smoke mephit asked, Eryle's familiar, more or less, by this point in time. No matter how much Eryle didn't want it to be.

"Yes, and this is what, the fourth day in a row and the seventh time today you asked me that exact same question?!", Eryle says in response, quite exasperated with the creature.

"Uh huh, but until that look you get on your face goes away I can't stop", it says, giggling, "So seriously, right in the middle of the park?", it asks once again, nudging him even in its incorporeal state when it wouldn't normally be felt. Of course, annoying a temperamental half-demon warlock can only fly for so long, and with a peeved growl, Eryle caused a small column of shadow to erupt form the ground and strike the annoying imp, discorporating it for a few hours, at least.

He sighs, and continues along his patrol of the graveyard. Really, he would've loved to just push that event out of his mind, the loss of control on his part that lead to a mutually..beneficial but not exactly appropriate or desired display, but the little mephit wouldn't hear of it.

But since she has just barely seemed to be able to deal with what he did, eventually having left without any sort of real goodbye or desire to see him again, it was clear she wanted nothing to do with him. So, in other words, he'd made a mistake, and with an ego as large as his, he disliked reminders of imperfections on his part.

After that event, and another similar occurrence, Eryle had made sure to reign in the visible effects his aura had on the surrounding graveyard he'd been staying in, although he didn't really focus on preventing other effects; that wasn't on his mind, and there'd been no other side effects he figured he'd need to worry about in the short term anyway.

Which is why he was a bit surprised when he noticed Roxy across the cemetery, his eyes glowing a bit as he focused them supernaturally to be sure he was seeing correctly. He frowned a bit, looking around and making sure there wasn't any thickening shadowy presence that might've lured the journalist there again. Nothing. That was weird...

Still, it'd be rude for him to not say hello to her, he figured, as a smirk crossed his face. His form slowly melted into the shadows around him, spreading himself amongst the night's natural darkness as he drew closer to her. If shadows could have a sadistic glint to them, the one he was carrying himself through would.

As she spoke, a quick swirl and recorporation of the shadow next to Roxy occurred, Eryle then appearing there at her side, an arm on her shoulder, "I don't think being a ghost would suit you. It's absolutely murder on one's figure, for one", he says, grinning arrogantly and chuckling lightly at his joke.

[Roxy St. James]

((Gaaaah, shorrrt. -flails x.x ))


For a few agonizing minutes, Roxy found herself having a staring contest with a creepy cherub. Was this what her life had been reverted to? Catering to her boss’ every whim, and being creeped out by a stone carving? Seriously, she had a degree in journalism! She could go work for any reputable newspaper, and not have to sit in a freaking cemetery, looking for ghosts. So, why was she there? Why did she keep feeling the need to write about the strange and unnatural?

Because she was a masochist, that way. Dammit, Inner Leopard, stop purring! The thing was on red alert tonight, for some reason, and it was really starting to irk the shit out of—

With a yowl, the shifter shot a foot in the air as a familiar voice suddenly sounded by her ear. WHY couldn’t her two sides make up and mingle long enough to give her a warning about people nearby? Now that her human half was on red alert, she scooted so far down the bench that she was in danger of falling off, squinting at the slowly forming face that seemed to leak right out of the shadows itself. What the hell? Who the hell?

…Ah, yes, ‘who.’ Hello again, Demon-boy.

Patting at her chest, Roxy did her best not to hyperventilate herself into a coma. ”Jesus Christ, don’t you WALK anywhere?” She managed, after a minute. ”I’m gonna get a frikking cow bell and superglue it to your neck! GAH, Eryle! Seriously? Whoof!”

After a minute of breathing- man, wasn’t this just déjà vu?- she his previous comment managed to sink in. Ha, as if being a ghost would make her fat…if anything, it’d have the opposite effect. And Lord knew she could drop some of her current poundage.

”So, now that I’m not at risk of having a heart attack, what are you doing here? Do you live in the cemetaries, or something?”