This is way overdue. I'm horrible. . . :)
Poll winner is Rogue! (26 votes) Clap clap clap!
Enjoy this! (Hopefully!) Sorry it took so long, I'm hopeless.
Lucy had never been one for rain. Or night. Or clouds for that matter. Yet here she was sitting high in a tree at around midnight in weather that couldn't be a storm, but certainly wasn't just a shower. Honestly, she found this weather to be the worst. She hated how it was raining enough for people to want to stay inside, where you get soaked in a couple minutes time, but it wasn't bad enough that there was lightning or winds or anything truly worth complaining about. But the real ticket was that there was always that uncertainty that it just might get much much worse. You could think about it possibly letting up, but Lucy didn't dwell on that fact for too long. She was too focused on the possibility of storm coming, along with the desire to 'Get out of the goddamn rain right now.' But she just couldn't.
Sadly, it was the time of year that everyone was out for some odd reason Lucy just couldn't understand. A time for family to get together and for love and thanks to be given to everyone that everyone was thankful for. Really though, in Lucy's mind, it had morphed into a time where everyone was focused on sales, sales, sales (With the closest thing to thanks being a quick wave, maybe not even that, to poor cashiers working at stores for minimum wage. Ah yes, certainly a time of great cheer. . .
Yeah right.
Lucy found nothing to be thankful for at the moment. Not a single thing, for - at the moment- she was stuck in a tree in a not-really-a-storm-storm.
She chastised herself mentally at her carelessness. A few days ago she had gone into one of her phases of defiance, where she just couldn't accept her fate, no matter how naive it was to do so. In doing so, she has managed to get herself stuck in basically the worst situation possible. In the middle of - well really, hanging above the middle of - a mob of Black Friday shoppers, starved and weak, in the rain. She tried sprouting her wings once again, forcing her demonic blood to pulse through her back, but no use, she was absolutely starved. No souls for the devil, no energy or sanity to do anything. Peachy.
Lucy gripped her head as she struggled to stay standing in her perch. She had been flying to a more secluded place near the edge of town to hide until she lost it, but all her energy just left her and she was sent plummeting into a tree. The smell of the congregation of humans below her was strong, even with the rain, and Lucy could feel herself slipping away into the familiar blackness, a void that would undoubtedly bring about the death of about a couple dozen humans.
She heard screaming, then bit back a howl as she smelt the familiar metallic smell of blood overwhelm her. She peered cautiously down at the crowd below her. A fight had broken out between a couple of the shoppers. Lucy looked at the crimson sheen of the blood dripping out of a man's mouth, flowing down into the puddles below him, swirling around, dying it. Lucy lost it.
It was less than an hour later when police were swarming the scene, knowing of what the victims would be like. Knowing all too well. But, like always, what they didn't know about was the fleeting form of a blonde girl, soaked with blood and rain. Tripping over herself in an attempt to escape, not from them, of course. No. Not ever from them.
xxx
"Yes Sting, I know."
"No. You don't know, Rogue," said man barked over the line at his adoptive-brother, "That place is weird. I know you wanted a chance in the big cities to live alone for a bit, but those places are downright batshit crazy! I've heard they're crawling with serial killers and ghosts n' politicians."
Rogue sighed as he swept his dark locks out of his face, he was internally telling Sting that he's being strange as always, but decided it was best not to say that.
"Yeah yeah," He began as he slumped down on the couch, the first rays of sunlight shining through his curtains, casting a warm glow on his face. "I'm sure that I'll get murdered by some serial killing ghost politician coming back because he wanted to argue some more, I'll keep an eye out for floating ballots coming to strangle me at night."
Sting scowled on his side of the line, "I know you're mocking me!"
Rogue let the smallest of smiles grace his lips. "What gave it away?" He questioned innocently, putting his finger on his chin in mock-thought before realizing his adoptive-brother couldn't see him.
Sting growled on the other side, sounding like a choking, dying cat.
"Not. Funny! Dammit, Rogue! Give your bro a chance!" He squeaked angrily before adding in a softer voice, "I'm just worried 'bout you, 'kay?"
Rogue sighed. "I know, Sting. I get it. I'll actually look out for anything."
"Yeah! Be careful, okay? If you need anything later though, I'll be here for ya'."
Rogue nodded, even though Sting wouldn't see it, as he turned on the TV, "Thanks. Bye, Sting." He said gratefully before he ended the call.
He ran his hand through his slightly overgrown locks as he sank back into his couch, "Politicians? Really?" He mumbled to himself as he focused his attention on the screen. Bright yellow scrolling was scrolling at the top and bottom of the screen with big black letters saying: Newest event in the decades long serial killing case. Rogue's eyes widened, well for him they did, they looked normal to anyone else.
"Today the treat has returned," The reporter said, soaked with rain as she stood in front of yellow tape and flashing lights. "A total of eighteen people have been mysteriously murdered. A continuum of the series of murders that have lasted in the area for over two centuries"
Rogue leaned towards the television in interest. The woman continued to tell of shriveled, bloodless bodies with animal marks on their necks before going into the history of murders. It started with the Heartifillias in 1777. They were murdered in this fashion and their daughter was gone. The reporter said they assumed that she was abducted and killed later on.
"1777?" He murmured to himself. He'd never heard of centuries-long unsolvable murder cases. It sounded like something you'd find in crappy mystery novels!
He could hear screams coming from the television, where crazed people behind the yellow tape kept on saying things like monster! and beast!
He scoffed, he didn't believe in such things. They were things of fiction, nothing more. He looked outside his apartment to see the rain letting up, revealing the tiniest slivers of light to shine through the gray clouds. He guessed most people would be at the big stores at the moment, so he could walk around and find a cafe or something.
His stomach growled in agreement. He sighed and grabbed his black coat with gold trimmings from the hanger by his front door, then left to satisfy his need for food.
