A solitary figure approached the Subreality Cafe, as the darkness of night closed in on the landscape, cloak haphazardly splayed across slumped shoulders. The Bouncer took one look at this pitiable sight and sighed. ~It's gonna be a long night.....,~ he thought, glumly. ~I hate Dead Night, it's always so happy, when it's so depressing....to me , at least. All of these characters just cut out. Only a few of them are ever used again, and then it's usually only there for one shots. It's just not fair to them. If only their writers could see that by killing off the character they also kill off a bit of what made the character special. It's like they're a disposable napkin, instead of the nice cloth ones. Just something to be used and discarded.~

Slowly the figure approached and, as it saw him standing in the Bouncer's Stance™ by the door. As the figure neared he grew puzzled. It didn't have the telltale glow of a writer, or the prismatic sparkle of a character. It had a sort of blackness around it, though, so it wasn't a wanderer, like that Foster fellow. It didn't even have that blurring of the Uncreated, so it had to be a new one. He sighed. ~I wonder what writer cooked this up,~ he though, sighing. ~If it's Wiley, I'm going to scream.~

The figure slowed and finally stopped before the door, obviously seeing that it was not just going to get around his bulk. "Who're you?" asked the Bouncer gruffly, his thoughts weighing heavily on him. The figure only attempted to push past him. The Bouncer's face darkened and he put out a hand to stop this little.....whatever it was and was only met by a dark, empty feeling where the figure stood.

So silently it seemed almost a dream, a voice wafted out from under the hood. "Please, do not do that again, or I will be forced to take precautions."

"Look, all I want to know is who or WHAT you are. I can't let ya in unless you're approved by the Scribe," he said, the picture of a nice guy just trying to do his job.

"Oh, the Lady Kielle knows me or, more accurately, will know me." The figure sighed. "Can I please just go it? All I wish to do is play one song and then I will go back to my work. Please," the figure begged. "Just one song, and I will be gone, not to return to this place unless my duty calls for me to."

He wanted to say yes to this poor person, whoever they were. Oh, how he wanted to say yes! But he couldn't risk getting in trouble ...suddenly he hit upon an idea. "Look," he said. "If this were a normal night, I would let you. But see, this is Dead Night, and only the Dead are allowed."

He was surprised when the figure let out a laugh. "Then I, dear Bouncer, am most certainly qualified. Now, please, let me in, for my one song."

The Bouncer looked around for a way to get out of this one, when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around and there She stood, the Scribe herself! "Is there any trouble here, Bouncer?" She asked, as he stared in awe.

He felt himself blush as he stammered. "Well, ya see, this....umm....person, whatever, wants into Subreality but it's against regulations and all. Still, only for one song....," he trailed off, hoping he hadn't said anything too wrong.

Kielle turned to the figure. "And what song might that be?" she asked. Dark eyes flashed in the hood as the figure answered, "Shadowlover."

Kielle gasped and then nodded circumspectly. She motioned to the door and she and the figure went in. She came back out a minute later to get the Bouncer. "Come in here, big guy. You're going to want to hear this," said the Scribe. "I know how depressed you've been lately, about Dead Night. If this is anything like I think it will be, this will help you."

The Cafe was completely quiet, a very unusual occasion on any night, but especially Dead Night. The figure stood on the stage, a small lute in it's hands. All of the dead characters looked with respect at the stranger as a stool was handed up and the figure sat down. Slowly the figure drew back it's hood.

Now, no one person can tell you what was under that hood. Kielle saw a gorgeous man, who looked remarkably like her husband, the Bouncer, a large and lovely woman, the dead Ash, a woman with a striking resemblance to his own Rogue and a Wolverine saw an amalgam of women, all in one. But all would describe the figure as a dark haired, dark eyed figure with the saddest face they had ever seen.

Slowly, the playing began.

*Shadowlover, never seen by day,*
*Only deep in dreams do you appear.*
*Wisdom tells me I should turn away,*
*Love of mist and shadows all unclear!*

Slowly the song wove it's magic with the story of Death as a lover, a Shadowlover, with whom lasting bliss, at a price, may come, if only you take it's hand. Slowly it drew to a close and everyone found tears had welled up in their eyes, even the Bouncer.

*Shadowlover, mist and twilight robbed....*

Everyone was silent for a second before they turned to their seatmate and began exclaiming about the beauty of the figure, and the song. Only Kielle and the Bouncer noticed that the figure had faded away, but with an expression somewhat less sad than before.

With an email like Green-Eyed Gypsy, you know I've got to be a role-player.