• W H I S P E R S • I N • T H E • D A R K • [p]

[kivr & fireflii]

• G E N E R A L •
This role play is exclusively for myself, .: T O K I :., and Picasso.

• P L O T • D I R E C T I O N •
Taking place in the world of the His Dark Material series, Matthew Hunt and Locke have come across the dead body of their friend, Toby. They ask the headmaster about it, but they are pushed away. The two soon run way on an adventure in order to solve the mystery of their murdered friend.

• C H A R A C T E R S •
Role player;; .: T O K I :.
Name;; Matthew Hunt - mostly called Matt, but is completely indifferent to whichever he is called
Age;; 16
Gender;; Male
Daemon;; Caracal
Daemon's Name;; Feliks
Appearance;; About 6', greasy brown hair to base of neck, bangs, dark brown eyes, lean, built for speed than strength, wears fitting jeans and random T-shirts
Personality;; Bit humorous, mostly sarcastic, slightly biting tone, seemingly uncaring at times, slightly pessimistic, awkward in emotional situations, mostly keeps to himself, stubborn, determined
History;; Grew up with parents and two younger siblings, worked on parent's farm to hunt, met Locke (neighbor), met Toby in town while shopping, frequently visited Toby with Locke as they grew up

Role player;; Picasso
Name;; Calum S. H. Locke – Mostly called by his surname.
Age;; 17
Gender;; Male
Daemon;; Lemming
Daemon's Name;; Watson
Appearance;; Very lean with high cheekbones and dark, curly hair. Often unbrushed and rarely kept clean. Cleaning is dull. He often wears a scarf around his neck and a long coat as he often catches the cold, His clothes are mainly dull and bland. He cares little for what is in fashion.
Personality;; Gets very bored, very easily. Doesn’t fit into society like everyone else. Doesn’t care what people think of him. Good at reading people and their signs. Runs around a lot. Unable to comprehend many emotions and doesn’t understand thoughts and feelings like most.
History;; Locke grew up beside Matt’s farm. He has an elder brother named Mike who always seems smarter than him. He’s not around much anymore, as he’s seven years older. His mother and father live together – his father a blacksmith and his mother a housewife. Locke was always considered odd at school, making it difficult to find friends. Matt is his only true friend.


• O T H E R •
Please do not post here. If you would like to compliment, question, or otherwise comment on the story, characters, and/or role play then please send a Personal Message to either myself, .: T O K I :.. Thank you.

The His Dark Materials series is written by Philip Pullman and is published by Scholastic. We do not claim or own rights to His Dark Materials.

Original plot is created by and copyrighted to .: T O K I :. and Picasso. Matthew is copyrighted to .: T O K I :.. Locke is copyrighted to Picasso.

Do not steal.

[kivr & fireflii]

Yawwwwn.

Matthew blearily blinked his eyes, shielding them from the sun's rays filtering through his bedroom curtains. He shifted ever so slightly, his legs pinned to the bed under Feliks's weight. Deeply sighing, he lied in bed for a few moments before swiftly standing up. Ignoring the slight blindness that came to his eyes from the sudden movement (along with Feliks's cry of annoyance), Matthew quickly got ready for the day. After all, it was a special day: The Festival of Lights, a great celebration for the end of a great year. He and his friends needed to get there early in hopes of seeing all the good events before it got crowded.

Dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a plain white shirt, Matthew glanced at his daemon, a proud Caracal. Feliks studied him a moment and said, “If you're quite done staring, we should go now. You know how quickly people arrive once it's open.” Matthew muttered, “Good point.” He rushed out the door ignoring his parent's call for him. After a short jog to his neighbor's house, Matthew rapped on the door. ”Locke, come on! It's already nine!” Grumbling, the teen shifted in place (ignoring the feline's glances while doing so), waiting for his friend to appear so they could go.

• W O R D S •
• 218 •

[Picasso]

Locke hadn't slept much that night. He couldn't quite remember the last time he'd had a full night's rest. Instead, his mind buzzed away at him. He had seen an investigation the night before on the news, three suicides, all jumped to their deaths at exactly the same height, one hour apart. It was confirmed that these deaths were suspicious, but Locke was aware that the police force hadn't a clue where to find their next lead. Locke was curious and fascinated, and he was already doing his research on the information the police had provided. It was a difficult task, as he couldn't see the crime scenes, nor examine the bodies. He'd stayed awake most of the night, while his daemon, Watson, slept comfortably in an armchair.

"Why was the third victim not wearing shoes?" Locke muttered to himself, startling Watson awake. He blinked up blearily at Locke, before scuttling across to the bed. Locke rolled his eyes, knowing he was going to be berated for not sleeping again. Sleeping was an annoying habit that he tried to ignore. Sleeping was a weakness that Locke didn't want to submit to himself.

"Honestly, Locke. You'll make yourself sick." Watson tutted, always the voice of reason. Locke once again rolled his eyes.

"Sleeping is dull." He replied simply, before peering out the window to see his neighbour, Matt, walking down the drive. Locke stretched and yawned, feeling his bones creak from exhaustion, before he quickly got into a change of clothes. He wore his favourite, long coat that went down to his thighs, before wrapping a blue scarf around his neck. "Time for the festival, my dear Watson! Come along."

Watson scurried into his hand and sniffed sadly. It seemed he would never get through to Sherlock. "At least eat something before you go out." Watson sighed, and Locke gave in and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen.

Grinning, Locke rushed to the door and opened it. There was Matthew, with his daemon Feliks. Running a hand through his dark curls, Locke closed the door behind him and began to set a fast pace towards the town.

"No time dithering. Let's be off Matthew." Sherlock called curtly.

~
Word Count: 371
~

[kivr & fireflii]

Matthew grinned when Locke walked out, hand snaking through his hair. He twisted around on his heel as Locke began walking past him at a fast pace. Only Locke (then again, he had told him to hurry up). “No time dithering. Let's be off, Matthew.” Matthew screwed his face in mock scorn, a false air of superiority about him. “No hello?” But soon enough, he, too, set off in a light jog to catch up to his friend. Feliks berated at him, “Oh, it's probably because you don't deserve a hello. After all, what have you ever done?” Snarky. He retorted, “Only as much as you... you know. Eat. Sleep. Poop.” A low growl rumbled through his daemon's chest (almost playful, but Feliks was his daemon, it was probably anything but). As per usual, Matthew ignored it.

Today was a good day.

It felt as if nothing could ruin it. The festival. Locke. Toby. Events. Food. What could go wrong?

It was a good day.

As Matthew trailed after Locke, he noticed the deep though his friend was in. Of course, it had to be about some mystery (if he knew Locke at all). Not that Matthew really cared. Death's happened all the time. Besides, he wasn't one to look too far into mysteries. It wasn't his thing. Frankly, he didn't think it was Feliks's thing either. Then again, Feliks was his daemon. He had to be like him, he supposed. “So... what's on your mind?” It was a fair walk to Toby's place, might as well make some conversation, right?

He carefully studied his friend. Although Locke seemed rather normal (or, at least, as normal as he could get), something seemed... off. His face was concentrated even though he was grinning as he walked out. Maybe something happened? Matthew opened his mouth, about to ask, but shut it before he could utter anything out. Locke would tell him sooner or later, wouldn't he?

• W O R D S •
• 329 •

[Picasso]

Locke put his lemming on the ground, letting him have a bit of a run. Watson was fast, and didn't need to be carried about everywhere. The lane they were strolling down was empty, so Watson wouldn't be squashed or run over. It only got a bit difficult on the busy streets of the town. No one would notice a tiny rodent on the ground. As he let Watson run free, Locke put his hands in his pockets and began to think back to the case he'd read up about. He still couldn't work out why the third victim had no shoes. He was a doctor, a good one at that, and he wouldn't go out in the bitter December with no shoes on, just to commit suicide. Chewing on his bottom lip, he realised that Matthew had spoken to him.

"Greetings are irrelevant," Locke explained, "We're both here, in the present. Why waste time with greetings when I can clearly see you?" Locke's train of thought of very different to most. Locke believed most people were inferior to him, stupid. It was amazing that he'd grown so close to Matthew actually. Matthew must have patience to put up with him.

He gazed back at his friend, "There are a lot of things on my mind, Matthew, Locke replied, knowing that he was being far too literal today, "I briefly pondered a few moments ago whether it was going to rain. Judging by the humidity and the cloud density, I think we have a 77% chance that it will rain." Locke's eyes twinkled. He knew that that wasn't what Matthew meant, but it was good fun teasing him.

"He's thinking about some stupid suicidal case," Watson piped up from the ground, and he earned a glare for telling Matthew, "Something to do with shoes." Watson did his best to shrug, before running to catch them up.

~
Word Count: 316
~

[kivr & fireflii]

“Greetings are irrelevant.”

Matthew's lip twitched, slightly irritated. Then again, this was Locke. “We're both here, in the present. Why waste time with greetings when I can clearly see you?”

“Point taken,” he muttered under his breath. Not that he really meant it, but sometimes Matthew just couldn't keep up with Locke. Feliks nodded along with Locke as he spoke. “Exactly, Matthew. You know, you need to learn to think sometimes.” The feline shook his head in exasperation, if only to annoy Matthew. The teen glared at his daemon.

"I briefly pondered a few moments ago whether it was going to rain. Judging by the humidity and the cloud density, I think we have a 77% chance that it will rain."

…

“You guys are such idiots.” Matthew somberly noted.

He sighed and rubbed his nose with his index finger. “You know that's not what I meant.” It seemed Locke liked making fun of him just as he loved making fun of Locke back. It was a win-win/lose-lose situation it seemed. Of course, it's not as if Matthew could ever really be angry at his friend. Locke was one of the only he had. Matthew frowned, an accusation on the tip of his tongue before Watson peeped out from the ground. “He's thinking about some stupid suicidal case. Something to do with shoes.” At this, Matthew raised his eyebrow. Muttering a quick thanks to Watson, Matthew turned his head to Locke and in disbelief said, “Really? Shoes?”

He frowned, and although he would surely regret it (Locke being a “mystery junkie” after all), “Does it really matter?” And on a second thought: “What does shoes have to do with suicide anyway?”

• W O R D S •
• 292 •

[Picasso]

Locke smirked at his teasing. He looked up to gaze and Matthew, then at his attire. It was his usual t-shirt and jeans but Locke could deduce little else about him. They'd known each other so long that Matthew had essentially become immune to Locke's deductions. It frustrated Locke to no end. He could still tell that Matthew's jeans were unwashed, worn several days in a row, and he'd seemed to be well rested judging by the colour of his eyes. There was a sparkle to them, which Locke deduced as excitement for the festival, however little else Locke could work out about his friend.

"You know full well that it isn't me who is the idiot," Locke replied, frequently calling the human race the idiots, "Just because I'm not so good academically..." Locke trailed off. He found school irrelevant and stupid. His mind was like a computer in many ways. He deleted pieces of information that he had no use for - for example learning about Pythagoras' Theorem. Locke deleted it almost as soon as he learnt it. Junk mail. Recycle bin. Useless. Dull. Instead, Locke focused on the more interesting things, such as murder mysteries!

Locke sighed at Matthew's question, "One of the suicides - the man had no shoes. I'm dealing it as suspicious. I'll bet that the police haven't even picked up on this missing piece of information. They'll assume he went swimming at the pool building he'd jumped off of. Wrong. He didn't swim. His hair wasn't wet." Locke tutted under his breath, and bent down to pick up Watson as they approached the busy road.

"Enough about that," He dismissed, "We'll never work it out until the police actually realise I am of use." He eyed Matthew, before smiling, "So, what's this pointless festival we're attending?"

~
Word Count: 302
~

[kivr & fireflii]

Matthew resisted rolling his eyes at Locke's smirk, instead relying on a simple glare and slight frown (not pout of course, guys most certainly did not pout). Looking away from his friend, Matthew turned his head to the road, actually observing his surroundings for once. Gone partially unnoticed (or maybe more like uncaringly) earlier by Matthew, the dirt road the friends had been walking on had now changed to a paved street. He glanced around, noticing few others walking through the streets. After all, the festival hadn't started yet.

Feliks lumbered beside him, head swinging this way and that as he, too, observed the scene. Watson simply ran along, zigzagging through their feet. The day was clear and bright, not even a cloud in the sky. As before, it was a good day. Locke, as usual, grumbled about something or other. Tsk, shoes, Matthew thought as Locke mumbled under his breath. Quickly enough, Locke wrapped up his thoughts (not that it seemed he was listening, Matthew just misses everything about mysteries anyway).

“Enough about that. We'll never work it out until the police actually realize I am of use.” Although Matthew chose not to comment on this, he had certainly let his feelings known when they were younger. Even though Matthew wholeheartedly supported his friend, sometimes it was just too much. But he finally got a smile. “So, what's this pointless festival we're attending?” The boy rolled his eyes (this time not resisting, although, sometimes he felt Locke did deserve more than one roll of the eyes). Almost affectionately (almost), Matthew scoffed, “You and your mysteries.” So, he went on to explain.

“Well, the news has been going around for while.” He frowned. “I doubt you've really heard much at all though since you're always so consumed by mysteries... anyway. The festival is to celebrate... well, you know. All that mushy... stuff. A new year, new beginnings. Jobs, lasting families, etc cetera et cetera. Besides,” he added, “You're always thinking about something serious.” Matthew, rather out of character in public, patted Locke on the back (maybe not as light as he would have wanted, but he wasn't a soft character).

“It's about time you just relaxed and had fun for awhile. It's only for a day anyway, and people die all the time. I'm sure Toby's looking forward to it, too.”

• W O R D S •
• 398 •

[Picasso]

Locke stroked his daemon gently with his thumb. Watson was the only creature - human, daemon or animal - that Locke showed pure affection to. He despised being touched. Even when he had been younger, hugging had been too much from his mother, and he would try and wriggle away from her suffocating grip. He could sometimes handle brief high fives or a brush against the shoulder, but anything longer or more intimate and Locke felt like he couldn't breathe.

Watson squeaked happily and curled into his hand contently. Smiling fondly, Locke looked back up at Matthew to listen to what he was talking about. It sounded rather dull in Locke's opinion. He didn't see the point in it all. Locke was not one to do something meaninglessly. Instead, he would do things for a reason, and this honestly seemed pointless. The probability of him getting much pleasure out of this was low, however he wanted to keep Matthew company. His parents were always moaning at him that he rarely left the house and needed to socialise a bit. What if he preferred being alone, with just Watson for company?

"Hmm." Locke replied non-commitedly. It was a miracle Matthew stayed around him so much when he was acting like this. He was a pain in the backside and often brought doom and gloom on other people's heads. He could often reveal someone's darkest secrets without even realising it, and then it ended in tears. It never ended pretty when Locke was around.

"Oh we haven't seen Toby in a while!" Watson squeaked, perking up at his name. It seemed, despite there being a strong connection between Locke and Watson, Watson always found Toby much more fun than Locke did. He found him too ordinary and dull for his liking, but he said nothing because he knew that Toby was Matthew's friend. Besides, he wasn't as bad as most of the boys at their school, and probably one of the few that could actually accept him from who he was.

"So where are we going?" Locke asked, looking around the empty road, "The festival hasn't even started yet."

~
Word Count: 357
~

[kivr & fireflii]

Matthew shoved his hands into his pockets, absentmindedly walking down the road, waiting Locke's response. As all he got was a bit of murmur out of him, he frowned, but didn't comment. What was there to think about? He let out a slow breath. Sometimes, he didn't know what to do about Locke. At times, Watson agreed with him more than Locke. However, then again, Feliks agreed more with Locke than him. Maybe their daemons got switched?

“Oh, we haven't seen Toby in awhile!”

Matthew slightly smirked, at least someone was interested. Although Matthew knew he generally did not get along with people, he did have his moments.

“So, where are we going? The festival hasn't even started yet.”

Matthew rolled his eyes at the comment.

“I thought it was obvious. We're going to wake up Toby. You know he likes to sleep in, the lazy guy.”

In the background, not that he was really paying attention, Matthew heard Feliks mutter something about him sleeping in. He would retort, but... well, it was true. On most days. However, he did want to go to the festival. He may not do a lot of... friendly... fun... things... but, he was sure they had some stalls where he could dunk someone, or show off. Maybe he'd win something... or a girl. A girl would be nice too.

• W O R D S •
• 228 •