![]() ![]() ![]() He thought I was an assistant at an oxygen bar, a badly paid but legal occupation. There were six of us in his direct employ. My boss was a man named Jaxon Hall, the mime-lord responsible for the I-4 area. I was a mollisher, the protégée of a mime-lord. ![]() Pushed to the edge of society, we were forced into crime to prosper. All part of a citadel-wide syndicate headed by the Underlord. I worked among ruthless gangs of voyants, all willing to floor each other to survive. My father thought I would lead a simple life that I was bright but unambitious, complacent with whatever work life threw at me.įrom the age of sixteen I had worked in the criminal underworld of Scion London – SciLo, as we called it on the streets. There were plenty of jobs in the service industry. It was expected of young men and women to scratch out a living wherever they could, which was usually behind a counter of one sort or another. I attended a private school for girls, leaving at sixteen to work. I had lived in that part of London that used to be called Islington since I was eight. Some of us know, and we never get caught. We live in a way you might consider normal, provided you don’t look too hard. ![]() Not outside of fantasy, and even that’s blacklisted. We are the minority the world does not accept. I like to imagine there were more of us in the beginning. ![]()
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