A role-play (closed)

Rain pattered on the sidewalks of a suburb north of the city. It was a normal summer night and Art wasn't sure what to do. She sat in her apartment in the dark. She was afraid that turning on the lights would attract unwanted visitors. The only light that lit her small living space was the TV, tuned into the nightly news. She laid on her couch and stared blankly at the ceiling, just listening. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, hypnotizing her to forget her surrounds. The News anchor drone on about another story.



Art shut off her TV before it gave the number. She tired of hearing about this 'Crimson Killer' guy. He was just another freak that got off on spilled blood. The thought of blood all over made her want to puke. Just her thinking about about it made her uncomfortable. She squirmed in the dark as her mind ran through the uncleanliness of how it must be. She finally had to sit up. The images were getting to her and she was feeling like she was being watched again. She stood up and quickly made her way to the door. She quickly put on her black dress coat, black messenger boy cap, black scarf, and black shin high boots. Her skin and her face were barely visible under her layers. The only part of her body that stood out was he pale blue eyes. After she completed her layering ritual, she grabbed her umbrella and escaped outside. The rain was falling down hard now and Art felt better breathing in fresh air. She opened her umbrella and made her way off her steps and onto the sidewalks. A simple walk around the block would do her good, she decided, and made her way off in to the night.....

(Sorry for the late reponse! Been having some computer problems lately, and I thought I all ready posted. O.o. Hm.)

For having to be in the summer, the rain was surely cold and menacing. Though it would explain the feeling since the cracked window was hanging wide open. It had always done that, ever since he had first started living here. Groaning, he climbed up toward the window and pulled it back shut again. His hands were freezing from the touch of the air, and his back shivered. Sighing, he climbed back down to the ground again and dried off his hands on his shirt.

He lived in an old warehouse with hardly any plumbing and ran on lamps and candles. Everywhere he turned, all he could see was the face of darkness staring back at him. His eye-sight wasn't so pleasant anyway, so it was hard for him to even take one step forward. One of the lamps hanging from the ceiling had begun to flicker. He reminded himself he would have to fix that, but not tonight.

He had been watching the same news story that aired. His brows furried; he was obviously growing tired of this story. Though he did find it slightly amusing that they would call this murderer 'Crimson Killer.' He chuckled at the name once he actually thought of it. Who in the world invented that one? He'd surely have to give them a handshake once he met the genius.

He was growing restless and quite bored. Though what could he do? He had all ready taken care of his business for the night, and he would have took a stroll out in the rain, but he didn't want to catch a cold. Sighing, all he could do was watch this ridiculous news story. Though he sensed an approachment. Growing curious, he retreated to his window and watched for anything suspicious.