.Open. Lost In This Concrete Jungle

[Roxie]

THERE'S NOTHIN' IN THE RAIN

NO FOOTSTEPS ON THE GROUND

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Miserable.
That would be the only word suitable to describe this morning. A heavy torrent of rain pelted the downtown area very late in the night, forcing those out on the streets skittering inside to the warmth of home or the mediocre heat of the innards of a car. Stray dogs however, were not so lucky to have such commodities.

A dilapidated garden shed provided some comfort for the night to those who found it. The rusted, tin roof purred in effect to the light rain that now drizzled from a morose sky. Spindly fingers of an eastern wind gripped the decaying wood, blowing a faint whistle through the cracks in the shed's walls. The remains of a door swung open on it's corroded hinges, shuddering loudly as it was forced closed again. The vicious, icy wind relentlessly assaulting the structure as the storm slowly moved away.

To be curled up amongst these flea-ridden mongrels was a thought that never seemed to cross Roxie's mind. She was pampered, a favorite among her owners and something of a celebrity back home. A goddess in her mind, she had been struck down several pegs and served a dish of humble pie. The gods do not have favorites, nor do they like to play fair.
Now, she was as faceless as the dogs who shared space with her.

Her dark liver and white head lay cradled between the shoulders of a rather large brute of maybe dalmation heiratige... She didn't know, nor did she particularly care. All she knew is that he was clearly a male and the first chance he got, he was probably going to hurt her. She shifted her weight to her paws, removing herself from the warmth of the pile and moving quietly to the bitter cold outdoors. She barely had her nose out the door before someone from the shadows stirred.

"Hey... Where are you going?" A greying, black terrier murred. His sleepy, brown eyes reflecting in the pale light of a street-lamp. His voice was harsh, not necessarily meaning anything, but on the streets, you have to sound tougher than you look. It was enough to have Roxie booking it down the street, away from whatever danger lay waiting in the terrifying shed filled with males.

I'M LISTENING, BUT THERE'S NO SOUND

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Her dark claws made a quiet, rhythmic sound against the slick pavement. Rain ran in darkening rivulets down her liver-colored fur. Coursing through her greasy pelt like water on a duck's feathers. For the most part, keeping the bone-chilling precipitation away from her skin.

She weaved through the congested streets, hopping underneath the forest of umbrellas and utilizing their protection until the owner slipped away from her or threatened to beat her with it. Many of the surrounding humans barely took notice of the little collie. The few who did either shook their head at her or simply moved across the street. Darting away to an unknown location or trying to avoid any trouble Roxie might cause.

The concrete jungle stood unmoving, uncaring. The bustling veins of the streets continued to clog with businessmen, school children and bums just as a normal city would. Simply put, time and life continued when Roxie felt it should stop. Without her brother or her family, she lived a rather pathetic existence. Wandering around aimlessly in a basic search for food, safety and warmth.[/size]

IS ANYONE TRYIN' TO FIND ME?

WON'T SOMEBODY COME TAKE ME HOME?[/center][/blockquote]

[Kana]

-Dear You

This wasn't a good place for her. That collie looking good who scampered from the shed as Geko arrived. Once again he was paying off a debt, dog or not Geko couldn't resist gambling. The latest loss would be paid off with this last delivery. He tossed the meaty bone to the dog he owed to and left without a work. The bright, lizard-like mix smirked. With a chuckled he raced after Roxie, but not at a rushed pace. It was more a lazy trot and once she stopped hauling tail it was easy to catch up to her.

"That old shack ain't a place for a fae like yourself, Hun. What brings you to sleep with the likes of them?" Geko's right ear flattened, giving him a curious look. The two earings on his left ear jingled slightly as the flick of his ear hit them against each other. Geko's yellow lips pursed, "Name's Geko, Gekki, whatever fits your fancy."

The city was no place for her, but Geko... he was a conman and this was his home. The dingo mix strutted the streets and in all truth he looked good doing it. It was a street slick charm he had and with a smooth grin at the young fae he proved just how innocent he could look. The many faces of a conman. Luckily for Roxie... she was seeing one of the honest ones.

-Sincerely Geko

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[Roxie]

The sound of footfalls following her made Roxie pick up the pace, trying to escape through the forest of legs without running into a full-on bolt. She ignored him until his voice interrupted her thoughts, sending a fearful shiver down her spine and causing her hackles to rise. The female felt cornered, stuck between lines of shops on one side and the busy road on the other. If she decided to run from him, she'd either get trapped under someone's legs or plastered to the grill of someone's nice Corolla.


Roxie glanced over to him, her eyes forcing her to take a double-take. She was obviously confused by his brilliant coloring and his lack of aggression; She'd never seen a dog like him, much less one that wasn't trying to take advantage of her within the first two minutes of meeting her. However, she knew that city-slickers were like rats. Lying, cheating and doing whatever they could to get ahead. Roxie was not willing to be taken for a fool and trusted as much as one would trust an alcoholic to watch their beer.

"I have no where else to go." The female answered honestly, turning her hazel gaze to the wet concrete. Her voice kept carefully level and accented only by a faint Irish tone. "Besides, what gives you the right to decide where I sleep and who joins me?"

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[Groovetastic]

Raindrops splattered upon the already soaking, but thick cardboard as a certain Pitbull of small stature breathed out a shaky, nervous groan. He hated the rain, but oddly enough liked being wet. From water. That was already on the ground. It had always been like that but he never understood why. In fact, he had stopped thinking of a reason for some time and just accepted it. At least there's this box... and it's holding. the Pitbull thought as a very rare smile tipped the ends of his chops. Suddenly the wind picked up, flinging the box out from over him like a human would a frisbee.

"DAMN! Get back here!" he yelped, chasing after the box and, much to his imminent dismay... other dogs. It certainly didn't help that he was pretty well known in certain circles for his past, so when he saw the two dogs conversing he immediately stopped before he was too noticeable and hid behind the nearest corner.

"Oh no... I shouldn't stay here... It might happen again..." he choked out, his fear of the rain washed away by his fear of what might happen to them at any time if he stuck around, even if he didn't choose to do so.

The Pitbull's name was Chopper, and he was known in those previously mentioned certain circles as a murderer of dogs and humans alike... and his own parents. What they didn't know, though, was that he hated it, and couldn't control himself during those times.