Morning Light

By Cait The Bloody Rose

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. The brilliant people at Sunrise do. I hope they don't smite me. I'm fragile.

A/N: These characters are all from different anime. Be aware that if you don't like Big O, Cowboy Bebop, or Inuyasha that you should not, by all means, read this.

Summary: Dorothy Wayneright is a social butterfly. Roger Smith is not. What brings these two characters together? Cats, friends, and an inane love of black. R&R! *begs*

Mr.Ton-Ton: Stupid girl…

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Dorothy Wayneright sat at the piano, staring at each ebony and ivory key she

encountered, glaring at it as if it was some sort of deformed child. She didn't feel like playing this morning. Out of character in her constant pursuit of musical enlightenment, but she felt like a change of pace. Not a thought popped into her head why exactly, but it could've been the fact she hadn't had the thing tuned very recently. She walked to the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for herself. She glanced out the window seeing the orange light lacing the horizon. The orange sun glared through the blinds, flooding the room with it's soft glow. Wait, that was what was happening? She was always like this in the morning - not as perceptive as she would've liked. It was strange how that sort of thing crept into a mind such as hers. Maybe it was the fact that she was a hyperactive college student with a brilliant mind bubbling over with tons of insane & inane ideas. Yeah, that could be the reason. She flipped the switch on the radio, the "gentle" sound, as she put it, of loud punk rock pounding into the room. Getting into the groove, she bounced around the kitchen. Unnoticed by her, the coffee was spilling over the side of her glass and landing in small splashes of light brown on the tiled floor beneath her. Seeing his chance to get his daily dose of caffeine, Dorothy's cat, Pero, clambered into the room, lapping the coffee from the floor, and soon bouncing around with her, much to Dorothy's amusement.

'I should start drinking Decaffe' she thought, retreating to her room. She glanced into the mirror as she passed it, stopping to gaze at it for a moment. Dorothy's skin was snowy pale and her eyes were a creamy milk chocolate. She raked her hand through her orangish, brown locks, seeing them bounce, hovering over her shoulders. She picked up the long, black skirt from her bed, removing her pajamas and pulling it up her hips, adjusting them slightly so they weren't too tight or too loose. She next pulled on the button-up red shirt she had picked out the night before, the symbol Suicide Machines patched on the back. She glanced in the mirror again. Today was the first day of term. Better make "a good impression" on the first day, being the sophomore that she was. She grabbed her little, black backpack (A/N: STROKE 9 JOKE! HA!) and walked outside of her house, locking poor, little Pero inside. Hearing his pitiful little meows as she walked out the door, she resolved to make a quick stop by Starbucks on the way home and pick up a Caramel Swirl Frappachino just for him. She skipped down the small staircase lost in thought when she suddenly, tripped, almost falling flat on the concrete pavement. Luckily, she had quick reflexes. Whoever made Soul Calibur II was a complete GENIUS. Cursing herself for her clumsiness, Dorothy continued more CAREFULLY down the stairs.

Roger Smith pulled himself out of his semi-permanent fetal position as he slowly awoke, shaking his head from side to side. His alarm had gone off. Loud and annoying-just how it was created.

'One day they'll invent a NICE alarm that'll inform the owner POLITELY that it was time to get up. Yea right. That'll be the day.' he thought. Rubbing his groggy eyes, Roger reached over and turned off his blaring alarm. He flopped out over one side of the bed, literally dragging the rest of his body off and landed with a soft thud on the carpeted floor. Pulling himself into a standing position, he pulled on a pair of baggy blue jeans and white T-shirt. (A/N: STOP DROOLING!). Roger walked out of his dorm and down the hall for a morning cup of coffee to possibly remove the loud ringing that held in his ears. He had just gotten accepted into this school last month. Lucky him. Paradigm College. It was a small, private college in the middle of nowhere. Nobody knew where this small city resided or originated from. Only those who applied knew anything about this sleepy hollow. It was affectionately nicknamed as The City Of Amnesia because it was forgotten. Roger turned another corner, entering the small kitchen that the students shared. He reached the coffee machine, grabbed a styrofoam cup and was just about to pour a cup for himself when a huge line appeared before him.

'Just my luck...' he thought before walking away. While walking through the hall, a sound came to his ears. Someone singing quietly? No. Humming? It seemed to consume him in a sense, shutting out every other sound driving him wild. For a hum, it was still a pretty tune. He thought it was a song he'd heard before. Seasons. By Good Charlotte. Then, the humming came to a halt, and an even sweeter sound than before started flowing through the halls.

"Summer air reminds me of all the seasons of your love and what it was like," the soft, feminine voice paused, then began again. Almost recounting its steps. "When we were together, huh." The voice turned into a hum again and it slowly faded away. That didn't happen everyday. Suddenly, there was a scream from farther down the hall. That CERTAINLY didn't happen everyday. He didn't pause to think about where his feet were taking him before he raced down the hall, coming to skidding and arm-flapping halt at the end of the hall. He saw a pretty girl sliding to the ground in tears, obviously upset about something. He walked a little closer to see a lanky man with fizzy, cerulean blue hair leaning over her.

"THAT WAS MY FAVORITE JEWEL CASE, SPIKE!" the girl screeched. Roger winced at the sound.

"Dorothy! It's just a jewel case!" Spike said soothingly, backing up and rubbing the back of his head. The girl named Dorothy stood up, cradling the broken CD case in her hands like a baby. She glared daggers at him and spun on her heel. Seeing Roger, her eyes widened and she blushed an unbelievable shade of scarlet.

"I'm sorry, sir, did we disturb you? I beg your pardon! It certainly wasn't my fault at all!" Dorothy said, walking over to Roger and smiling innocently before running off, her backpack bouncing behind her. Stunned, Roger stared at her retreating back. It wasn't everyday that anyone even talked to him. This would be an interesting term.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Thanks to Fire for beta-ing!