Full Name: Zath Rolan

Date Of Birth: 5/2/1984

Age: 24

Race: Dhampir

Height: 6'3"

Weight: 94kgs

Hair Colour: Blonde

Eye Colour: Blue

Physical Traits: Heightened senses. Phenomenal agility

Smoker: No

Drinker: Yes

Distinguishing Marks: A cut, stretching from his left shoulder blade, down his back, to his right hip-bone.

Skin Tone: Light Tan

Religion: Agnostic

Occupation: Freelance Mercenary

Personality Traits: Honest. Responsible. Open-Minded. Industrious. Self-Reliant. Compassionate. Competitive. Patient. Driven. Calm

Marital Status: Single

Sexual Orientation: Straight


..::}} Dreams Were Never Good For Anyone {{::..

He had been dreaming of his love again. They were driving together somewhere, the road stretching out in front of them. Zath was sitting in the passenger seat; she was sitting beside him, her eyes focused ahead on the road. She was wearing a red dress, bright bits of jewels stuck along the neckline, glittering in the headlights from oncoming cars. Zath reached for her, stroking the back of her head with his hand. She leaned into him, sighing, as her cheek brushing his palm. She leaned toward him, kissing the tips of his fingers. He moved his hand down and, running his thumb along her neck, felt a sudden sharp pain. Zath jerked his hand back and saw a small trickle of blood flowing from the bend in his finger. Something on her neck had cut him.

He leaned forward, looking at her more closely. The smoothness of his love’s skin was broken by something sharp embedded just below her right ear. Confused, Zath stared at the object, a shimmering piece of glass. There was another glittering shard, just below her eye, protruding from the soft skin of her cheek. Two more glitters hung from her ears, and what Zath first thought to be his love’s earrings, were more pieces of glass. As he looked more closely, he saw that her dress was streaked red, not from dye, but from blood. Zath jerked back in revulsion, pushing himself away, his back pressing against the side door.

Her face was lit suddenly by the glow from another set of oncoming lights. She turned toward him, blood pouring down her cheeks, staining her hair, running from a thousand little cuts sprung from the bits of windshield glass that glittered painfully beneath her skin. Staring at him, she opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged.

As the oncoming car approached, the white lights of her face grew stronger, flooding her seat and the inside of their car. She was still turned toward him, oblivious to the approaching lights, blood flowing in streams down her face, the bits of windshield glass glittering in the approaching light. Her eyes were fixed on his, and he could see how sad they looked. Her two hands left the wheel, reaching for him, her fingertips spread apart, her hand cut on the knuckles and palm. Her movements were languid, dreamy, as if she were reaching for him across the space of a warm bed. Her lips moved again, her voice travelling to his ears as a faint whisper.

“Wait for me,” she said, her voice sounding hollow, empty.

Her eyes were still sad, her brows and lids closing like a flower as her fingers reached out for his face. The oncoming lights were almost upon them, and in the back of his mind, Zath could hear a warning bell, the loud blaring noise of a car horn, sounding somehow muted, as if travelling over a great distance. As her fingers inched toward his face, her smooth skin almost touching his, the car began to vibrate wildly, a screeching of brakes filling Zath’s ears.

She still paid no attention to the noise or the lights, her head turned away from the road, away from the approaching destruction. Her lips moved again, and she spoke one last time. “I love you.”

The lights were stronger, glowing brilliantly, as the oncoming car sped toward them, coming up the wrong way off the off-ramp. She sighed once, her fingers slowly retracting, pulling away from Zath. Zath shook his head. “Don’t leave.” A moment later, there was a rocking explosion, the two cars colliding violently. The windshield blew inward, as the hood shot up in ripples of crushed metal. Bits of glass slammed against Zath and his love, followed by the eruption of the two air bags, blowing out from the steering wheel and dash.

Zath felt his body moving sideways as the car slid down the off-ramp, its rear scraping against the metal guardrails. One of the tires exploded with a gunshot-like concussion and the car lifted to one side before finally stopping abruptly. Through the fractured windshield, Zath could see the looming black form of the Ford Expedition that had crashed into them, the side of the massive truck running perpendicular to their own tiny vehicle. A horn was sounding in a monotonous one-tone blare, and someone was screaming in pain, the sound piercing above the noise of the horn and the escaping steam and water from the burst radiator.

Next to him, his love’s body was leaning forward, her head and chest seeming to rest against the now softly inflated air bag. Her eyes were closed, one hand thrown up around her head, her palm lightly on the white bag of air. Despite the impact, Zath felt no pain. He leaned toward his love, but the seat belt held him in place. Looking down, he saw the twisted clip, the metal bent savagely backward, jamming the belt permanently locked.

His love continued to rest against the air bag, reminding Zath of the thousand times he had wakened in the middle of the night, to see his love sleeping next to him, her head reposing on her white feather pillow. The sound of the blaring horn died away, and the noise of the approaching sirens, the screams of pain, all seeming to fade, until Zath was left alone in silence with his love, her eyes closed, the expression on her face set peacefully, sleepily, as she lay against the pillow-air bag.

He watched her for a moment, knowing she was dead, but still unable to reach her, strapped down tightly by his broken seat belt. Her eyes flitted once in sleep, then they slowly opened, until she looked at him through her long lashes. Zath felt a choking sensation in his throat, the familiar tightening around his chest. The flecks of glass had vanished from her hair, and as she lay against the air bag, she seemed to glow a faint white. As if she’d swallowed the moon and it radiated out from inside her. Her eyes were open, and she leaned back in her seat, turning toward him, she looked at him for a moment, her head cocked sadly.

“This is a dream,” Zath said softly.

“Yes,” his love answered.

“Stay with me.”

She nodded once, then smiled slightly and, raising her hand, pressed her fingers to her lips. She blew him a kiss. She turned away from him, reaching toward her knees. The car door swung open, and she stepped out of the car. Zath reached for her again, but felt the seat belt holding him in place. She shut the door with a soft click, then began walking slowly down the off-ramp, moving toward the crushed Expedition. A young man was leaning out of the front driver’s side window of the Expedition. A kid, maybe nineteen, twenty. His head had broken through the window, his left temple resting against the jagged broken glass protruding from the car door. Blood streamed down the front of the car door, staining the black paint.

The kid’s eyes were vacant, dead, staring emptily down the glass-littered pavement. As his love passed by the kid, she reached out, pressing two fingers against the side of his head. His body shook once, and Zath watched his eyes swing into focus, a moan escaping from his lips as he sat back up, one hand pressing against the gash in the side of his head.

She continued to walk down the ramp, moving toward a streetlight at the bottom. From below, two police cars appeared suddenly, speeding past her en route to the accident. As they passed, she turned once, her eyes meeting Zath’s. She smiled and, raising her hand, curled her fingers into a wave. The police cars sped by toward the accident, obscuring her for a moment in flashes of red and blue. When they passed, she was gone, the street empty and wet from the rain.