Wait Till Kimie Comes
Cleo brings her head down hard on the counter, swearing once, twice, three times, and four. The tavern is loud, noisy, and most of all, all pain in the rear. Kimie stares at the crimson back of her head, thirsty for blood she knew she couldn't get without the healthy athletic type, unless if she wanted it too burn off faster than you could think. Mira twists the locket between her fingers, trying to figure out where S.T. went. Could it be possible it is someone she's going to meet and fall in love with? It better not be. The devil is known for his games, and Mira does not want to be any part of them. She glances at the beige cuffs of her dress, seeing the cream buttons a total of two on each as they went down and up to the edges, pinning the section of cloth to the sleeve. The bell clings and her stomach rumbles. She will eat anything if it means food. Well, she won't go as far as cannibalism, since she doesn't need to influence Cleo. Cleo twists her head on the table to stare at the small stomach, sighing and standing. Kimie soon follows and Mira is last, all walking for the exit. They aren't getting anything done here! The cold night air nips at their exposed skin, forcing Kimie to release dragon breath out every exhale. The streets are black and filthy, Mira forcing to remind herself this is the Victorian period, soon after the Industrial Revolution. Hooves clop on the cobble stone paths, a limited amount of people out at this time of night. It has not been more than a day that Cassandra stranded them here without any means of word what their purpose for coming is. Kimie stares up at the murky clouds, the rumbling of thunder ringing and lightening soon following. Rain started to fall harshly, Kimie glaring at the smirking Cleo. Mira doesn't say a thing, understanding Cleo is easily bored with things. Kimie stifles a sneeze, Mira hugging her ribs tight as they begin to heat up. Cleo frowns and tries to stop the rain, but it does not obey. She curses once, twice, three times, and four once more, glaring at the ground and filling up with rage at the fact she can't tone the rain down. She won't ask her father for help, since that'd just show her weakness to her father. She can't do that if she wants to keep her long gained respect.
Mira sighs and hunches, her feet surprisingly holding up. This is going nowhere, just like the tavern. They don't have money, they don't know the area well enough to live longer than a fortnight, and if Kimie doesn't drink healthy blood soon, she's going to turn on Cleo and Mira both! Mira collides into a rough chest in thought, looking up to the same man from last night. Kimie pulls her away and Cleo hisses, Mira scowling at the both of them for taking her as only a weak human. Having jumped a college building without injury, there's enough evidence to stand that she hasn't and will never be a weak human. The man blinks and keeps walking, glancing back out of the corner of his eye. Cleo and Kimie push Mira forward, having apparent knowledge that she is freezing with hypothermia. The wind picks up, making Cleo curse once, twice, and three, one shorter than the previous two. It's cut off by a dreadful sneeze from Kimie, her black off-shoulder dress ruffling. An alley is not that far, so the trio walks over and sits in boxes, catching the scent of trash and sweat. They shift uncomfortably inside the square, since it's made of soggy wood, and eventually fall asleep, leaning on one another.
The next day brings dim sunlight and scoffing young women with their noses upturned at the poor trio. Cleo hisses at a few and nearly lunges at one, but Kimie holds her back and drags the woman in the alley, drinking while Cleo hides the scene. Kimie wipes the blood from her mouth and stuffs the woman inside the crate soon after Mira crawled out from slumber. Her platinum blonde hair is still perfect, her clothes slightly dirtied and her expression as blank as it was before Cleo's birthday. The trio hike down the other side of the alley, peering inside shops and Mira stopping at one in particular. It's a little doll with a white glass face and a porcelain body, the lips crimson, the hair a magnificent gold, and the dress similar to Mira's, but sky blue with white stripes. This doll reminds her of her dead mother, which makes a tear fall. Tears are rarely seen from Mira, so that makes Cleo upset. Cleo understands her pain, since her mother is technically dead, since she ended up a devil somehow. Kimie also understands, since her mother has been killed in a car accident several years ago in their present. The owner comes out, red in the face, but she sees Mira, the Snow White of reality. The woman sighs.
"Come in," she waves the three inside. "Don't be shy now." She shuts the door and points the girls to a small bench at the back of the shop. The girls sit down, hands folded in their lap. "Now, what are three young women like you doing outside all alone?"
Cleo bites her lip, making Kimie the one to answer. "We're just the common poor folk, Miss, nothing special."
The woman bites her lip, glancing around the shop. She is well stocked, showing a reasonable wealth. She smiles at them. "Tell you three what, I'll get you some jobs to get a few pounds and alms, how 'bout it?" The trio nods blankly and the woman bites her lip, thinking hard. "There's a job in a mine, here, and I believe the butcher shop. Who would like to work with me?" Cleo and Kimie direct at Mira, but she shakes her head. The woman sighs and crosses her arms. Cleo sighs and raises her hand, the woman smiling. "Who would like to work in the butcher shop?" Kimie raises her hand. The woman sighs, turning to Mira with a slight smile. "I guess that leaves you the mines dear."
Mira nods and Kimie and Mira both stand to leave, but the woman stops them. The woman hands them both two cloth bags, filled with the appropriate wear for each job. They nod and walk out, Kimie and Mira staring at each other. They walk into an alley and quickly change, the boy clothing more comfortable than the corsets. They stuff their beginner's clothing in the bags and walk off in opposite directions. The mine is not far, so Mira glances back to see Kimie already past, sighing and trudging on. Once Mira enters, her blonde hair flowing from the cap, men and boys stare at her, looking almost sympathetic in a way. Think about it, a woman forced to work in the mines, where disease is ensured? She walks up to a man observing the place and he turns to her, turning back, and then turning rapidly back, eyes wide.
"Why, what's a woman such as you doing here?" he asks.
"Here to get a job, sir," Mira mumbles.
The man stares at her, blinking. "Why, you that bloody poor to come here?" She nods. He sighs and looks around. "Why don't you start with something easy, okay? There's a corner with some loose coal, but everyone here is working on the tough ones. Think you can handle it, Miss?"
Mira nods and walks off to the corner, placing the bag next to her and lifting up the pick with ease. She raises it up and crashes it down on a coal's edge, the whole section coming down on her feet. She blinks and looks up, seeing tighter coal. She sighs and turns to the man in charge, unsure of what to do. He's busy blinking at the pile of coal burying her feet a little stunned a woman 'as such' can get that much loose coal in a single hit. He nods slightly and she picks the tougher coal once, the section crumbling on her head. The dust and dirt crawl into her throat, making her cough slightly. The man drops his jaw, workers stopping to stare. Mira shakes her head from the coal on the black cap and strikes an even higher section, the coal striking her neck and pinning her onto the ground with struggled wheezes. The men wince and gap at the same time. Mira is stronger, but the places where the coal lands still hurt a lot. Footsteps echo in the mines, the men bowing. Mira raises a brow in confusion and struggles against the coal, her throat detesting. She shoves it off and stands, bowing like the rest. She glances up to see an aged man with white hair and dark eyes, his tall posture mixing well with he vulture like nose. His wear is obviously that of an important one, making her bow lower. The man notices her and walks over, raising a brow at a woman in the mines. The man in charge laughs nervously and walks over.
"You see, my lord, she works very well with a pick. All that coal cam from only three picks," the man explains.
The 'lord' raises a brow. "Get up," he orders. Mira gradually rises with the back of her neck sore from the weight of the coal on the front. "Is it true you got this much coal from three hits?" Mira nods nervously, not sure where he was going with this. "How long have you been here, Miss?"
Mira blinks, not fully understanding at first. Reminding herself about what can easily happen if she does not answer quickly; Mira opens her mouth to speak. "About five minutes, your grace."
He smiles at the title. "Would you come with me?" She bites her lip, nodding. She lifts up her bag and follows him out of the mines and into a carriage, the door shutting like thunder and the carriage wobbles down the street. Mira bites her lip tighter, letting blood leak in high hopes Kimie would catch her scent. The 'lord' smiles and leans forward, arms folded on his knees. "There is no need to be afraid, Miss. Tell me," he straightens, "what is your name?"
Mira gulps. "It is Mira Mirror, your grace."
He smiles. "That's a lovely name, Miss Mirror. Now, can you explain why you were in the mines?"
Mira blinks, bashing coal dust out of her eyelashes. "I'm a poor woman, your grace, simple as that."
He smiles again, a bit oddly. "You don't seem it." Mira doesn't speak. "You may reply, Miss Mirror."
Mira nods. "A kind woman gifted me these clothes so I could work in the mines in something other than the only dress I have."
He sits up, still smiling. "Well, why don't you stay with me tonight? It'd be much warmer Miss Mirror."
Mira bites her lip harder, waiting till Kimie comes along and saves her as*. This time, Mira will not B*TCH about it later. The blood streams down the side of her chin, dripping onto her folded hands. "Actually, I'd rather stay with my friends, if you will your grace."
"Please," he laughs, "call me Turpin." She doesn't speak. That name is familiar… "Anyways, Miss Mirror, you could easily die out in the streets like so."
She shakes her head. "I'm quite happy for living this long, your grace, I will be delighted to at least end it being with my friends."
Turpin frowns. "Well, maybe we could work something out? It's very easy…"
She shakes her head once more, the blood splattering on her pantaloons. "I'm sorry, your grace, but I'm one of respecting my friends. They are no fools, I assure you."
He shakes his head. "I didn't say they were fools, Miss Mirror. I'm just requesting you stay for a night."
Mira's folded hands turn into a fist clenched around a suffocating lefty. "I'm telling you, your grace, I do not wish to stay. If I wanted a place to stay, I would've gotten one by now somewhere in Singapore!"
The carriage stops and Mira runs out, dashing so the calls from Turpin are muffled greatly. The blood continues to leak, and Kimie is not yet here. Did something happen? Is she farther than the designated blood scent range of two miles by the rate of the blood flow? Mira shakes her head from the thoughts and looks up to a sign reading 'Fleet Street'. She blinks and slams hard into the side of a building, the windows shaking and her jaw cracking. Tears of pain flood the brim of her eyes, and she stumbles back, gripping the jaw together and walking around to start running again, only to result in the door slamming into the hand with the jaw. Her forehead is also bumped, which makes her stumble back and hit the ground with a hard thud. She blinks up at the murky sky, hoping it isn't going to rain and wash her into the sewers. She clutches the bag tightly and grips the edge of the walk to push up, rubbing the back of her head with the right, the one with the bag. Two blurry shapes walk up and heave her up to her wobbly feet, her knees buckling and her vision as clear as the sky above her head.
"The poor dear," a female voice sighs. "By the looks of it, she got hit by the Queen's carriage!"
"It sure feels like it," Mira thinks, wincing at her jaw and head stabbing her nerves.
The cap is pulled off, the hair bouncing lightly. "I know you!" a familiar voice gasps.
Mira stumbles back, being caught by a strong arm in mid-fall. The woman sighs, hands on hips. "Do you think we should at least take her to the doc?"
"Hopefully you mean the doctor," the man grunts.
"Yes, I mean the doctor!" she snaps. "It's not like we're going to feed her to the sharks!"
"That's so nice of you," Kimie's voice rings. "Although I'd like my friend back please."
Cleo comes up next, rushing over and snapping the jaw back together, secretly mending it. "There we go, all we need is to get her head checked with a simple test," Cleo smirks. She leans in. "When did you start talking?"
"Uh…what is it, three days ago?" Mira mutters, rubbing the back of her head.
The man raises a brow. "What do you mean started talking?"
"Meaning three days ago was the first time she has ever talked in her life. I'm serious, sir, she wasn't and still isn't a big fan on talking."
The man glances down at Mira, rubbing her blonde head with pain. "Well, I guess that'd explain a few things." Mira stands, only to wobble and fall back again, the man catching her the same way and sits her down in front of a window. "Don't move, Miss, it'll only hurt worse."
Mira nods painfully, making the man roll his eyes at her movement and stand to talk with Kimie and Cleo. Mira doesn't understand any of it, due to the strong concentration on not vomiting on her own working boots. The locket pushes tight to her chest, pinned under her black buttoned up vest and long, slim sleeved white shirt with coal dust all over her face and shirt itself. The pantaloons are black as well, the gray knee high boots tight around her calves. She pulls out a little book from the vest pocket, squinting to try and read the title. It's blurry, but she can make out 'Talking for Dummies' on the cover in the 1800's manuscript. Mira smirks slightly. So anything that goes back in time, changes to that time frame's style of books, clothing, or in Mira's observation, accent. She looks up to the blurry sky, not that it hasn't been blurry before and, in the man's case, will be. The woman with the man sighs and faces the man, looking regretful almost.
"So, what are we doing with the girl?" she asks.
Mira blinks and her vision begins to clear, only to heat up with pained tears. She blinks them out and dust and soot leak out, her cheeks streaming black. Cleo walks over and heaves her up, her body submerged in scarlet cotton and black lace. Kimie has a similar wear to Mira, but a white apron covers her front, blood splattered across the front and her lips crimson with the suspected blood. Can she ever control herself? No, Mira thinks silently, she's odd like such. Well, at least Mira knows now why she had to wait till Kimie came.
