Character Name: Dawn McLeod
Player Name: RWallace
|Hair Color:||Honey Blonde|
|Eye Color:||Jade Green||Height:||5' 1"|
|Now that she has access to a regular bath and clean clothes, Dawn has turned out to be a beautiful young girl with slightly wild, middle of the back length honey gold hair. Though her life has changed for the better, her jade green eyes still seem distance and at time lost. She has yet to put on any weight to speak of and her waif-like appearance concerns Marie to no end. She is twelve or thirteen, even she isn't sure which, just over five feet tall and very slender.|
Ghost Archer stood beside Harry and watched the coroner’s assistants lift the body bag onto the gurney. Coagulated blood covered a surprisingly large area were the corpse had lain. It was the fourth such body since the first of the year.
“I hate serial killers,” Harry growled, his grey eyes squinting against the setting sun.
“A rather odd serial killer,” the bowman said.
“Yeah,” the detective agreed. :”I guess you’d call ripping a man’s genitals out by the root rather odd.”
Archer knelt beside the blood stained grass.
“I’ve got a hair,” he looked up at Harry and pointed.
A crime scene tech appeared and squatted, drawing tweezers and an evidence bag from a case. Deftly he trapped the hair and lifted it. The hair didn’t move.
“How did I miss it?” she muttered and grabbed the hair again.
For a second time it remained where it was. The Archer frowned then looked closer.
“I think it is a trick of the light,” he said to the tech with a shrug.
“Must be.” Putting away her tweezers and bag, she moved around the blood patch looking for other evidence.
Archer plucked the hair from the grass and tucked it into his pocket without anyone noticing. He stood and touched his ear then turned to Harry.
“I’ll leave you to it, Harry,” he said, offering his hand.
The tall cop took it.
“Yeah, go chase some super freak and let us handle the mundane killings.”
Both men knew these killings were far from mundane. Archer turned and disappeared into the crowd and from the park.
Drawing back from the microscope Archer removed the glass plate and sat down on the stool. Holding the rectangle he muttered “Now to find you.”
Golden Gate Park during the day is a vibrant, active place with games and picnics as well as tourist from all over the world. The beautiful Japanese Tea Gardens are a place of quiet respite from the hustle of the city. Between the Steinhart Aquarium and the de Young Museum people eat lunch and listen to the various musicians performing on the stage. One day classical, the next Jazz. Children run and shriek at the ducks, laughing when they break into flight. Couples stroll hand in hand to groups pedal along the bike lanes avoiding the occasional pile of ‘road apples’ left be the SFPD mounted patrol. It is one of the safest parks in the world they say.
Archer stood atop the de Young and gazed across the park his elvish eyes turning the later night black of an overcast sky into a moon light dusk. Three men sat at the outdoor tables before the stage talking in loud voices, obviously drunk. One rose and staggered toward the western end of the aquarium and the patch of bushes there, probably intent on relieving himself. He fumbled with his pants and stood still, his feet spread slightly as even at that distance Archer caught the splash of urine on the leaves.
“Hey!” the man yelped, leaping into the bushes.
His two friends rose at his shout and sauntered toward their buddy one calling out.
“Watcha got, Joe?”
The bushes shook and there was a crashing as if something were running blindly through the thicket. A small figured burst from the brush and slammed into the larger of the two men approaching the scene. Automatically he grabbed whoever it was and held on.
“Gotcha!” he barked in triumph then howled in pain as the smaller figure kicked him in the shins.
The pisser, fly still open, lumbered out of the bushes and grabbed the small figure by the scruff of the neck
“Gimme my wallet!” he bellowed.
Archer watched, still relaxed. One of the street people had take the chance on snatching the man’s wallet while he was ‘busy’. As long as it didn’t get out of hand, the bowman was content to let things work themselves out.
The pisser started pawing the homeless man, searching for his property in the heavy folds of ragged, dirty clothing; his buddy shifted his hold on the smaller man to a hammer lock. The next words froze Archer.
“Don’t touch me!”
The voice was a child’s voice. Vaulting off the edge of the roof, Archer dropped to the earth with a soft thud and began walking across the amphitheater, weaving his way through the benches. The pisser ripped open the coat the child was wearing and continued his search.
“I said ‘DON’T TOUCH ME!” The note of hysteria in the child’s voice made Archer break into a run.
Though he couldn’t see exactly what the pisser was doing, it was pretty evident he was working his way through the layers of clothing. Then the bowman caught a glimpse of the knife as it flashed in the hand of the man holding the child’s arm. The blade arched down toward the child’s body and there was a scream. Blood erupted, spurting to the beat of a heart and Archer was among them.
Grabbing the assailant from behind, the Ghost Archer hurled him backward over his shoulder as if the man had been a rag doll. The pisser followed a second later as Archer gathered up the bundle of grimy clothes. That was all he got, the grimy coat. Turning quickly Archer was on the knife wielding man, pulling his hands from the bloody mess that was his crotch.
“Crap on a stick,” he hissed and snarled at the man. “Be still or you will bleed out!”
Placing the palm of his hand on the horrible wound the bowman relaxed and let the power flow down his arm and out his hand. A forest green light bathed the wounded man and he passed out. After a moment, Archer removed his hand and looked over at the pisser who was being helped to his feet by the third guy.
“Call your buddy an ambulance; I need to find that kid.”
In three steps he disappeared into the bushes, his every sense scanning the area for a spore of the child. The trail was as plain as neon arrows to the experienced half-elf and silently he followed. The path lead around behind the stage to the Tea Garden and for a second disappeared until Archer vaulted the fence and picked it up again on the other side. Seconds later he stood beneath the pagoda, his eyes tracing the spore up into the belly of the building.
“I know you are there,” he announced, not bothering to look up.
Squatting at the edge of the meandering koi pond, Archer rinsed the blood from his hands then stepped up onto the high arched Japanese bridge and perched on the rail. Plucking a twig from the tree that over hung the pond below he pinched off the tiny leaves and tossed them into the water.
“They aren’t the first that have attacked you, are they?” He paused, listening for the slightest sound. “I promise you, it will never happen again if you let me help you.”
A small scuffing from the building.
“I know what you can do,” Archer said, idly passing his hand through the wood of the bridge. He let the denuded twig fall and came to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the painted wall of the pagoda had grown eyes. “It isn’t a curse, or a punishment.” He said as he stepped toward the building, each step lifting him a foot or so off the ground. When he reached the level of the building’s eyes he stopped and smiled.
“My name is Aaron, what’s yours?”
The eyes withdrew then slowly returned. They were a beautiful shade of jade green and Archer’s own eyes widened a little. They were the exact color of his own.
“Are you hurt? Did the man cut you?”
In the distance came the sound of sirens, at least a half dozen.
The eyes moved up and down and an arm appeared out of the wood, blood running out of a wide, vicious looking cut. Archer put out a hand and the arm was withdrawn.
“I only want to stop the bleeding,” he said softly. “And take away the pain.”
The hand returned and one finger crooked at him then disappeared into the wall.
Taking it as an invitation, Archer slowly moved through the wall into the tiny room that constituted the top floor of the pagoda. There was a single candle burning with just enough light to show a filthy pallet of clothes beside a pile of soda cans, chip bags and candy wrappers. The child’s blood was everywhere and Archer began to worry about blood loss.
The kid was backed into a corner, skinny legs drawn up to his chest, arm hanging limp as the blood flowed down the dirty skin to drip onto the pallet. Small, very filthy feet protruded from a ragged pair of jeans that must have been a few sizes too large. He’d pulled off at least three layers of sweaters to expose the arm and now wore a red flannel shirt, long sleeved, with the one pulled up to his shoulder to expose the cut. Several bloody rags lay about, obvious attempts to staunch the flow but ultimately futile.
The jade green eyes watched him as he sat beside the child and gently lifted the arm. It was a ragged wound; the kind delivered by a serrated blade and that would leave a nasty scar. Breathing slowly, the bowman reached behind his back and pulled out a clean handkerchief then produced a small clay pot stoppered by a wooden cork. Taking the stopper in his teeth he slowly poured a sweet smelling cream onto the cloth then replaced the stopper. The pot disappeared as he again took the child’s arm.
Very carefully, he laid the cream soaked cloth over the wound. It was almost instantly soaked in the child’s blood but a look of wonder flood the smudged face as the magic took away the pain. Archer pulled away the cloth and without fear of causing the child any hurt, covered the bleeding wound with the palm of his hand. Again he took a slow deep breath and let the power flow down his arm and into his palm. The green light flooded the room for a long moment, and then vanished. The bowman released the child’s arm.
With a tentative finger the child touched the newly healed skin then looked up into Archer’s face.
“Dawn, I am Dawn.”
|Dawn has the power to manipulate her molecular structure to anything from gossamer to denser than gold. To protect her self she has learned to 'fuzz' out her body, a state some where between solid and her desolid form. While it does not offer the total protection of desolidification it does reduce her injuries significantly. Two powers she developed while living on the street saved her life and protected her form being raped many time. The first allows her to reach into a person and remove the more useful parts of their anatomy while the other allows her to do much the same but while she is safely desold. Needless to say, Archer does not encourage the use of either of these powers though Raven secretly urges her to practice their use for the time she might need them.|
|Dawn is still partly a wild animal, unused to such close contact with so many people. She tries hard to keep up with her classes but she is missing the knowledge that a modern child grows up with. She is not stupid, by any means, but occasionally a few of her classmates tease her because her mind does not quite work like everyone else's. There have been many times when she has disappeared into the woods seeking to escape only to be found by him. When he picks her up and cradles her like the little girl she is, everything is right again.|
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