((First and foremost let me be clear that I am new to online roleplaying, but I am very intrigued by how Rain Dogs is presented.)) ((Also, may not be suitable for those under the age of 18))
Morning.
Another awful, bright morning. Bringing light to the sins of the eve. The bloodied walls, the horrid screaming, the choking, wet sounds of humans drowning in their own blood. The wrenching, awful smell. Like chocolate and sulfur, filling her nostrils. Another morning, and she must live with her sins.
She raises from bed, squinting at the bright sun as it reveals everything she has done. A deep breath to calm the nerves, but none of it changes. Not what was done. Not the horrible trauma. Not the excitement. A tear rolls down her cheek as she throws the covers aside to begin another day. The cramped studio apartment's walls shrine bright orange with decaying paint and brick, and the noise of the city pounds away at the small window facing the east. But she only sees the warm, dark night. The thrill of the chase, the lustful attack on her victims, the uncontrollable grin as the trap was laid and sprung. "Don't worry, you'll be safe in the back." Everything was a lie, and made it that much more enjoyable. And so she wept, knowing what she was.
Night returns, and the Harlequin's mask is donned. Every word is a lie, everything flows like satin, every sweet melody. And the smile returns, the smile that can only come from the deception. They listen, hanging on to every lie as if it were their salvation. She lures them to supposed safety, with a genuine smile and soft word. The smile remains even after she is done, jubilation apparent on her face as she returns to the cramped studio apartment.
And then it is morning...
Morning.
Another awful, bright morning. Bringing light to the sins of the eve. The bloodied walls, the horrid screaming, the choking, wet sounds of humans drowning in their own blood. The wrenching, awful smell. Like chocolate and sulfur, filling her nostrils. Another morning, and she must live with her sins.
She raises from bed, squinting at the bright sun as it reveals everything she has done. A deep breath to calm the nerves, but none of it changes. Not what was done. Not the horrible trauma. Not the excitement. A tear rolls down her cheek as she throws the covers aside to begin another day. The cramped studio apartment's walls shrine bright orange with decaying paint and brick, and the noise of the city pounds away at the small window facing the east. But she only sees the warm, dark night. The thrill of the chase, the lustful attack on her victims, the uncontrollable grin as the trap was laid and sprung. "Don't worry, you'll be safe in the back." Everything was a lie, and made it that much more enjoyable. And so she wept, knowing what she was.
Night returns, and the Harlequin's mask is donned. Every word is a lie, everything flows like satin, every sweet melody. And the smile returns, the smile that can only come from the deception. They listen, hanging on to every lie as if it were their salvation. She lures them to supposed safety, with a genuine smile and soft word. The smile remains even after she is done, jubilation apparent on her face as she returns to the cramped studio apartment.
And then it is morning...
