.•°Ballad of the Night°•.

It was a pretty night.
It was one of those serene Saturday nights, in which one would expect the moon to be illuminating throughout the night sky, and for the stars to be making a scattered path out into the depths of space.
But too bad.
It was raining instead, but not a harsh, thunderous rain, but one that shushed the noise, and made you listen to its beautiful hiss. A light rain. A one that you could walk in, but, with an umbrella, of course.
There was an seemingly empty auditorium.
Inside, there was a group practicing. An array of instruments.
One had an acoustic guitar. She was tall, had blonde hair, green eyes, and long fingers that tuned the guitar. She would alternate between playing a cord, then tuning it again. She wore a blue hoodie, and shorts. She sat on a black stool, her attention on the lace-painted guitar.
There was a girl much like her, almost a twin of some sorts. But she had brown eyes, and honey-brown hair. She sat at a piano, turning her music book to the right song.
And next to her.
A unique one stood. She had a half-shaven head. Her velvet hair was straight, and flowed down to her chest. She had white eyes.
They were pretty. She was, too.
She wore a beanie. Black. Her skirt was black. Pencil skirt. She had a shirt on, that said, "Rebel," in black and red letters. She wore black and red tennis shoes.
She was holding a bass guitar, and it was black. It wasn't hard to tell that she liked black.
They all had their focus on their instruments, until footsteps were heard in the auditorium.
They all glanced around.