Red

Throughout the five years of Red's life, she had managed to join a type of club, but not a normal club-- like a book club. This club was a dangerous one, filled with fierce hunters and well-doers, and had a particular tier system. They were called Cloakers, which was what they wore. To Red's knowledge, there were twenty of them, and Red was in the bottom tier. The top was the Diamond Cloakers, whose light-blue hooded capes all adorned intricately carved stones and diamonds, woven into a tafita fabric that cascaded down their back and arms. Their hoods come to a point when crowning their head, at the end was a diamond dangling between their brows, a beautiful hand-stitched garment that is earned and worn proudly. They were known as Ice. Below the Diamond Cloakers are the Emerald Cloakers, whose mossy-green garments flow graciously around them in organza, enveloping their bodies in a soft hold. They were known as Greens, a sarcastically clever name. The jewel that came in between their eyes were, traditionally, an emerald. Greens are said to have been descendants of Irish blood, for a good portion of them had freckles and auburn hair. Next was the Golden Cloakers, whose capes were made out of a smooth and shiny silk, hitting them at mostly hip-heigth. Their jewel was a simple Fire Stone, small and mute enough to hardly be noticeable, but nonetheless very tell-tale. Their nicknames were Suns. Then, last and certainly not least, was the Ruby Cloakers. Red's cloak hit her at about ankle-height, which is actually mid-calf height on standard heightened people. The Ruby Cloakers, or Crimsons', pieces had, of course, rubies all throughout. The jewel at the point on the hood was no bigger than a pea, and no shinier than a wishing coin. They were beginners, and beginners more often than not were scoffed at on the streets. They had to go through tough trials, and brutal hazings. Red didn't and still doesn't mind it though, because she knows it's for a good cause.

The cause, though far fetched to many a person, is something Red believes in whole heartedly. Radiation poisoning from nuclear bombs didn't not exist, did it? Of course not. It, in fact, existed in many places and areas and in cracks and crevasses. It mutated things, people, and it caused beings to turn deadly. What the Cloakers are fighting are werewolves. Not things who say a variety of onomatopoeia words, but skin-eating, flesh devouring, blood-drinking werewolves. Red never believed in such a silly thing until she saw an attack first-person, and then a peculiar Diamond who had just finished shooting it with a gun the girl had never seen before walked over to her and explained to her what it was. She was never the same. She insisted on the Ice to help her get in, and he did. That was then, and now he's one of her only friends. One of the only higher-tiered Cloakers who show her even a little bit of compassion. His name is Lazarus, which is a very ironic name. He's not ethereal, like a lot of the Diamonds are, but more... Real. He drinks, shoots the shit, and knows how to bring the fun out of Red. He's a ladies man, which isn't much of a surprise. Tall, lanky, pale, darkened hair and bright blue eyes. His voice is as smooth as the kiss of a rose, and his body is not in ill physical condition. If Red didn't know any better, she'd be on him like Teeths on blood. That's what they called werewolves... Teeths.

The only way to kill Teeths is to shoot them straight through their heart with a gun. Red has a gun, named SB for short. Silver bullet, is it's official name. It's a baby compared to the rest of the tiers' guns, though. Days go by and Red keeps increasing her kill number, and so far since the first day she had killed a Teeth, she had a grand total of ten. That's four more than the average Ruby Cloaker, and four more than this bastard named Terrin. He's constantly bothering her for a drink at the tavern, or a dinner at his house. He's not her type, and never will be. Plus, dating is prohibited between the Cloakers. Strictly so. The Diamonds, the people who are in charge, say it's mandatory to have business relationships with everyone, not romantic or personal. Which is one rule pretty much all Cloakers break. Though, if they catch you having sex with one another, they'll strip you of your cloak and make sure you never hear the end of insults from the community. The community around Seattle looked up to the Cloakers, understandably so, though. Who would want to get caught up with a Teeth?

Red sat, pressing her head up against the wall of Lazarus' metal house. Sighing, the girl looked at him as she sipped out of the old tin 'camping' cup, gripping the handle. Red didn't experience camping, and Lazarus had to explain it to her as to what it was, and she understood it. It seemed like fun. Lazarus was now just normal Lazarus, just as Red was normal Red. They weren't above or below each other, nor were they fighting any Teeths.

"Ya'know, Laz..." She begun, trailing off before even finishing her sentence.

"Red, I hate it when you do that, you know. Ya just start a sentence then stop talking and never finish it. I want to know, but you're either too stoned or too tired or too something to finish it," Lazarus said as he finished tinkering with the old radio he had found in a trash pile. It didn't work, of course, because no stations were broadcasting.

"Sorry, I sometimes just don't know what to say when I'm drinking good wine, right? Alright, anyway, as I was saying... Ya'know, Laz, sometimes I just think about how it would be if it all didn't happen," the redhead said as she sipped again on the tin cup.

"I know, it was great, but this is our reality now and you don't know the difference, really. Just, know your place and know how you feel right now. No what if's or how about or any of that nonsense, right?" Lazarus replied as he rose to look at the girl, hand ruffling his hair as he looked around his small place. Lazarus was two years older than Red, which wasn't really a difference.

"Right, whatever. Thanks for letting me stay with you until I get enough teeth to get a place," Red said as she finished off her drink. She sat forward and dropped one arm, the pale limb dangling down lazily toward the ground. "I know I suck as a roommate, but it's whatever, because you don't give two shits," she laughed. Itching her stomach and burping, she just looked around blankly. The Cloakers collected teeth from the Teeths as a currency, and so far Red had about a hundred.

"Excuse yourself, Red... Jeez," Lazarus said, all the sudden mad. The redhead looked up at him with green eyes and pouted, raising to her feet.

"Sorry, excuse me," she rolled her eyes. Then, just as she was about to touch the radio the dark-haired man was fiddling with, he let out a loud and deep burp, sending them both into an uproar of laughter.

"Excuse me," Lazarus grinned, nodding in approval at himself. Red rolled her eyes and leaned down to finger the knobs and dials on the old thing.

"Let's go to the market today," she said randomly. All Lazarus did was just nod, disappearing off into one of the rooms. Probably the kitchen. He was a curious case, and he had always caught Red's interest. In no more ways than just pure curiosity. Cloakers would kill them if they found out about that one night, though.