in my head there are shades of
red unknown to waking life

The night is frigid, the air is moist and thick with fog. All the lights in the street at the end of the alley way look hazy and trapped in the dense mist. Lyas had been trying to fall asleep for hours now, nestled in a seated spot between a dumpster and a pile of old, wet newspapers. Though he had stolen two pairs of woolly socks and was wrapped up in a camper sleeping bag, he could still feel the cold tearing at his bones.

It was around two in the morning now, far past the witching hour and beginning to feel darker than ever. If it weren't for the light traffic that the Gibbous Moon district always seemed to be occupied by, Lyas would have probably felt safe enough to ignore the cold and fall asleep. The footsteps echoed off the thick brick walls and damp pavement though, and the dense weather left him feeling more than vulnerable.

The deep thumb of base came from a club nearby, a sound he had been forced to deal with since he had arrived to this little alcove earlier in the evening. A headache was beginning to brew under the skin of his temples but he couldn't find it in himself to complain. It wasn't like he had much of a choice, but he still couldn't help but worry what Haine might say if she found out he hadn't just asked the other Rapture members for a place to stay for the night.

In truth, this was Lyas' fourth night in a row to be settled between the trash and cold metal of the dumpster. There was a pitiful sense of ownership he felt over the spot.

Although Lyas worked at the supermarket, there just wasn't a way for the fifteen year old to catch up with all of the debts he owed yet, let alone afford a place of his own. It had been over a month since he'd gotten his job and he was still finding himself out of the street most nights. Any other nights were spent either on a friend's couch with the guise of a sleepover, or on the floor of a house he had broken into in the desperate search for warmth.

Lyas was not proud of himself, but he did what he had to do to survive.

So this was where he had ended up, shivering and desperately huddled for warmth inside a thick sleeping bag, his knees curled to his chest and the fabric of his hood over his face. Pulling a lighter from his pocket and lifting it to the edge of the sleeping bag, Lyas' shaky hands attempted to ignite the flame for a tiny shred of warmth.

A curse escaped his mouth when he realised the struggle he was having and how the vapours of breath falling from his lips kept blowing out the flickering flame. Voice carrying out over the fog, Lyas cried out "C-C'mon! you stupid thing, please just l-light...!"

made by nette of gs!