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This woman is tall, and slender with bright red hair that falls over her shoulders and pale skin. The brown eyes that peek between the strands of hair are framed with questioning eyebrows. She has a mouth that curves easily into a ready smile, and the beginning of smile lines that hint at it when it is lacking. She appears to be around the age of twenty-one, and she is dressed casually in jeans and a grey top. The latter seems to be made from a silky fabric that reaches her waist, with tiny sleeves that only just cover her shoulders. Beneath that, she wears chunky sandals, her bared toes painted in different colours, with a tiny sunflower on her big toes.
How long has it been like this? Living on the edge of society, keeping my head down, keeping to my own business? Oh that is a good question. I used to be social, spend hours with people, talking and fooling around. That all changed when I was eighteen. I can remember it well. We went out for the night, clubbing. A bunch of eighteen year old girls. We owned the world, it was ours. We were on the top of it, all dressed up. The first half of the night was great, amazing. We drank, we danced, we pulled. Oh yeah, we pulled. There was this gorgeous guy - a fox, my friend Andria called him ironically - and his hair was nearly the colour of mine, so I was drawn to him straight away. He had this way of looking through his hair at the world, as if he was nervous of it, and that appealed to me. Of course, I was sure of myself, sure of my charms, and I went for it. I told the girls not to expect me home, and I went for it.
Do I regret it? Sure. That night was the worst night of my life, if you don't count the ones afterwards when I realised what his actions meant to the rest of my life. I just thought he was a bit kinky, you know. Blood and biting. Hell, whatever turns you on. I've been known to be a wild child myself. Then the next day, and the day after and the day after that, I felt awful, like I was dying, like I wanted to die. When I found out what I was, I really did want to die. I had no idea how to cope with it - the guy was long gone and I didn't even get a real name or number. There were others in the city. Did I mention I lived in New York? I lived in New York. It is a good city to fade away in, and people there, they come and go, so when I went, nobody took much note. I had just finished my high schools, was planning to do a fine arts degree - do you want fries with that? - and so I took a year out, to get my head around it, get some control. Family? Oh yeah I have some of that. Parents, siblings, the whole lot. I never told them.
Then I went back to university, got my degree, and tried to make it as an artist in New York. Yeah, yeah, you can stop laughing now. Obviously, that didn't work so well. So here I am. Starting afresh in a new city.
So I've found an apartment. Nothing flash. Literally the artist's garret and I'm job hunting. I'm guessing jobs as an artist don't lie on every corner here, like gold on the streets of London, but I'll settle for a waitress job for the moment. Anything to make sure I don't use my precious pot of gold up.
Kelly had settled into the city, found several locations from which to sketch people. She had a job at the 1001 Nights, working for Lexine. She has made some friends, mostly chronicled in her sketch pad. Since settling, she has moved in to Lexine's house, and has bought a gallery with a little help from a friend. It was blown up in the November 2011 bombings by Human First but was salvageable.