She loved the night, but hated the dark.
To anyone who didn't understand, this may seem an illogical statement. In fact, she had never met anyone who seemed to understand. Yet it was the truth. Heaven may have been a bright wonderland of endless happiness, but paradise was the cool embrace of the night, full of potential and vital life. The people were more alive, free to be themselves. The feral beasts roamed the urban wasteland, picking on the forgotten relics of the diurnal waste. The limits were gone, the dangers were unseen, and the troubles of society shed its wrappings, exposing itself to all who had the sight to see in troubled dreams and nocturnal ramblings.
She was once a creature of the day, treading the same tired paths, holding herself to a hypocritical standard, shunning those who were free. Though the night called to her leashed spirit, her childhood fear of the beings that lurked in the shadows kept her in day's embrace. Her 25th birthday seemed to suddenly come upon her, an unwelcome intruder in the banal security of her world. The siren call of Mani sang sweeter as she came to hate the existence she had erected for herself.
One night, she decided to ignore the call no longer, and with barely a second's hesitation cut all ties to her previous life, moving cities to a tall dark metropolis. Here, she embraced Nox's gift, and became a denizen of the night. She became a familiar sight to all who sought to taste freedom, her clothing a peacock's display, attracting all who burned with the same desire. She gave herself to all who sought her path from tyranny, and hunted those whose lust blinded themselves to the truth of the world. When not hunting, she sought to embrace all that was unknown to her world, to reach the roots of the universe. All thought became action, all imagination became the world, and dream was a realm indistinguishable from the mundane existence she had fled.
She knew that not all she saw was right. Her entire life she had seen echoes, shape and sound where none existed. Those who knew her sight mocked her as they mocked her career, calling her a drugged out whore, a crazy prostitute, a distracted escort. Yet she let these slide off, for they always returned for her services, and for her part she continued to embrace these delusions, for to do otherwise would merely bring light where light needn't be.
She always kept one rule, however. She would fuck in an alley, in their apartment, on the unlit street. But she refused to enter the streetlights, to use the light of signs or the illumination of a flashlight. This was for no mystical reason. She merely hated the dark behind the lights, the gaps where shadows lived and lurked, watching and whispering into her ear. They offered insight to the future and the present as much as they twisted the past.
Tonight was no different. She was against the building she preferred, a closed down factory with all of the lights shut down. She was wearing her usual getup, heeled boots over tight leather pants that failed to leave the shape of her body to the imagination. She wore a biker jacket on top, with a thin leather vest with a window cut open that seemed to barely hold her tits in. She was a curvy figure, with a face of innocent beauty that caused men to wish to either protect her or else deflower and corrupt the perceived innocence. Her hair was long, reaching down to her shoulder blades, dark like the air around her. Her eye were a bright blue, and with light makeup and her fit and young physique she knew she attracted the eyes of all who looked.
