CHARLIE
Art is my livelihood, but the things I paint in the dead of night might just kill me.
Night after night, I am pulled from my sleep and compelled by some unseen force to paint the face of the man who haunts my dreams. I cannot resist the urge to capture his life on canvas, and the song of grief and mourning that he sings is forever stuck in my head. I dont know who he is, but meeting him face to face feels like fate.
Rex. I finally have a name. If I can keep it together long enough to finish the commission he hires me for, I might be able to earn the rest I desire and learn the truth of who I am and why my dreams of Rex include the pierce of fangs and a throne from the distant past.
