Purple String {EDITING}

Loose Lips, Firm Hips

Black stared at her unblinkingly, a wide grin stretching across his face, as his fingers hooked around the collar of her shirt. "My body is ready..."

"It's a shame your mind's not." Juniper said, sitting back from him, flicking her hair over her shoulder, staring out of the window for the remainder of the journey.

Trees. More trees. The odd bush and lake every now and then, dotting the scenery as they drove back to Blagmoor Castle.

It was a lot like counting sheep.

Juniper closed her eyes, resting her head against the side of the car, not even stirring as the car jolted, forcing her head from her hard pillow to a much warmer, softer one.

***

Black swung his feet back and forward as he sat on the steps of the orphanage he'd been living in for the last few months, watching as a sleek silver car rolled up to the steps, four men stepping from the car.

"Oy!" A black-haired man strode towards him, his dark blue eyes locking on his own deep brown ones. "Brat."

"Blythe!" The brunette with green eyes hissed. "Be polite!"

"Brat." Blythe continued, ignoring his green-eyed companion. "I need you to point someone out for me."

"I haven't been here very long, so you're better off asking someone else." Black muttered, turning his attention back to his book.

"And yet I'm asking you."

"Blythe let me handle this."

"Fine, Finar."

The brunette crouched in front of him. "We're here to test the Gift of a boy named Black, do you think you could point him out to us?"

A football bounced off the boy's head. "Oy! Black!" The boy on the other side of the fence yelled, making Black sigh deeply. "Chuck it over!"

"Idiots." The blonde boy scowled, throwing the ball back over the fence, attempting to follow said ball, but a hand grabbed his shirt, lifting him up into the air.

"Captured." Blythe mumbled, carrying the nine-year-old inside.

"Get off." The boy sighed, looking incredibly bored as he hung there, his feet not touching the ground.

"All we need to do is see if your Gift is the one we're thinking of." Finar said. "If it is, then you'll be offered a scholarship to a training academy for the Gifted."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Black said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I have to stay nearby."

"There's a training academy in Blagmoor, but that's for the elite." Blythe said, looking the boy up and down. "And I doubt you'd qualify."

"Probably not." Black shrugged. "If there's one thing I'm not, it's elite."

"Are you always this depressive, brat?" Blythe asked.

"Is that what's it's called?" Deep brown eyes met the dark blue ones. "Being depressive?"

"Are you sure you're a nine-year-old brat?" He asked, staring at him sceptically. "Because you sure sound like a middle-aged man."

"Well, watching your father beat your mother into a shivering mute wreck could do that to you, couldn't it?" His voice was completely dead as he spoke. "Well...?"

"I suppose you won't be visiting your father in jail, then..." The green-eyed man with black hair said, glancing at the boy.

"Of course I won't." He said, just as Blythe deposited him on one of the sofas in the living room. "I told him to go jump off a bridge, and he did."