Asclepias curassavica

Kalmia latifolia

In the great doorway that was a black and gaping mouth laid the Mist, curling its grey tendrils to caress the Kiddo's face as she stumbled through the doorway, panting and exhausted. The Mist dispersed as Kiddo walked through her vast and lavish quarters, all of her father's work and treasures in this single room.

The place had taken her a long time to find; it was deep in the country side, about 4 miles away from the great Thames river, which was now reduced as a place of refuge riddled with muck and filth.

She climbed down the stairwells, tired and afraid to sleep, lest she get sucked back into the brief, loving memories she had of her father, her mentor and the only one who had cared for her and treated her like a person. Restless, she tended to the Mist like it was a pet; it whined and it wrapped itself around her arm.

 The Mist caressed her gently, it, a loyal dog to a lonely master. She looked upon the grey being with a vague look of caring, she sighed and slipped into her elegant bed, with soft black sheets of thin cotton. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Her enemy had followed her home, the guard from before taking flight after the Kiddo's treacherous footprints. Her enemy stalked around the wood where she lay, the cave that was her hut and protection invisible to his desperate and prying eyes.

The small figure watching them both curled a small smile, his large green orbs widened to the size of chicken eggs. The mysterious green orbs of the small figure missed nothing, and noted when a yellow claw reached out from under a rotted cherry tree to grab the silver haired body guard, frustrated and angry at his failed attempt to capture the angry golden assassin.

The body guard fell where he stood, the hungry, vicious child under the brush clawing and ripping into his sinewy flesh. The child, feral and lonely, grunted thrice and more children flooded the bodyguard, screaming silently and the golden assassin sleeping in her cave smiled softly.

The golden sun kissed Screars' face, waking her slowly as she rubbed sleep from her tired eyes. Her Mist had left her arm in the night and sought the company of a sparrow, which was slowly dissolving within a heavy conglomeration of the Mists' particles.

Screar looked tenderly to the domed roof of her warm cave. The summer time in England had warmed considerably, and the stone retained the heat that it gained during the day all through the night. The summer time had brought along beautiful animals that had been intolerant to England's previous consistent chill.

The shadows danced upon her ceiling in the early sunlight. The sunlight shone almost directly into Screar's cave, forcing the exhausted killer to wake up truly. She got up to make her meager breakfast of a fish she'd caught on her way back home last night through the Thames.

She ate and then went about to work, sharpening her knives and making traps. Her work would soon be done. Her plans were going along swimmingly.

Meanwhile, in Kingsbury, an equally golden haired woman with soulful green orbs woke to the sun splashing warmth onto her pretty face. She squinted, not wanting to wake up to the pretty summer's day before her. 

As she sat up, the man she was with tightened his grip around her, waking up.

"What's wrong?" the man asked.

"I have to make breakfast now."

The couple were doing fairly well, making a mediocre amount of money, trying hard to survive.

"Jillian, do we have any eggs?"

"No, Kristopher, we do not."

Jillian had been an orphan. She'd lived in an orphanage in Wales until an old couple had taken her in when she was nine years old. The couple had passed away shortly after she had been living with them, and yet again, at twelve, she was on her own.

She had then been taken in by a cruel mob boss, using her as a spy and thief. There, she had met Kristopher, a fourteen year old safe crack. She had developed a friendship with him when he had saved her life from a rival gang that had cornered them when they had been on an assignment together. 

Kristopher had shoved her into a small alcove, using his wits and the shadows to harm and disable the sneering, lecherous men. They had happened upon the children when they were breaking into a bank to steal a hundred pounds, to give to their boss for an assignment that was unknown to the children.

When they had returned home, the boss that lorded over their lives gave them necklaces. For Kristopher, a golden Dragon. For Jillian, a brilliant green.

With that, he had praised them, told them they were to work together as long as they were under his employment, and he had bonded the two with their necklaces.

Under the Boss's command, they began a tentative romance, steadily growing into a brilliant love. Now, at Jillian's 20 to Kristopher's 22, they were married. Their boss no longer lived, but they still had their necklaces, as a bittersweet token of their time working for the Boss.

Jillian dressed in a beautiful pink dress, with sleek black shoes to go with it. She still worked as a spy, and Kristopher worked alongside her as a body guard for the current governer of the Kingsbury District. She was to go to the governer of London's villa to attend the Afternoon Ball that the governer of London, Lizabetta Griscoe, held every three years.

Her mission was to glean information on Lizabetta's standings on the great debate on whether or not the children of the world should be used by the government. Kristopher was going along to help protect her, and he was also supposed to take out the other body guards that were to be there, if Lizabetta would not cooperate. They were to pretend that they're there to protect Lizabetta as well.

Jillian and Kristopher ate a small meal of bread coated in mashed peanuts, and then went off to work, a hooded figure lurking in the shadows of an alleyway adjacent to their house following them close behind.