[From the draft pile…]
Simon Baldur’s story is a pretty strange one.
A tall pale man, he wore his hair in a low tail; his hair always scraped back to lie flat against his scalp. Seeming in defiance to the confines of his roots, the rest of his hair would tangle relentlessly unless he braided it. His one physical vanity, Simon refused to cut his hair and the silk ends reached down to his belt. His fair complexion, long black hair and his steel-rimmed glasses were ever-lasting images impressed into the various people that he dealt with.
A successful biologist, his major studies were in the merging of machine and flesh. This was a very lucrative position as the army was ever in need of a stronger soldier, a faster scout or a smarter general. At the height of his career he had been sending soldiers out to the fields for years. The government loved him and cherished him like the Philosopher’s Stone itself. But he didn’t give a damn about material joy when he had every piece of available Heaven that was Lizzie.
Alissandra Bainbridge Baldur was the beautiful wife of Simon. Tanned, lean and tough, she loved the outdoors and every activity that could be done away from the confines of the concrete buildings that were their home. In a way, Lizzie seemed to soak up the sun and keep it with her. Every summer her dark crimson hair would catch streaks of sunshine so that bright copper highlights would weave in and out of the thick braid that swung clear down to the back of her knees. She and Simon would make constant excuses to braid each other’s hair. Her freckles were a source of constant teasing, but Lizzie would turn the jokes around and say that the freckles counted the number of times Simon would kiss her before he left for work.
Lizzie was a biologist in her own right, but she specialized in plants and geology rather than humans and their metal creations. She made sure that there were always interesting flowers growing in their window sills, however, it was the herbs that she was most absorbed in. Different leaves and buds to cure the sick and guard the wounded.
Simon was death, and Lizzie was the keeper of life. It didn’t escape their notice that Simon was the one with the bigger pay-cheque, and there were many furious rants from Lizzie on that subject. In the end Simon would shrug and tell her that this way, there would always be income and her studies would never go without funding. Lizzie in turn would scowl and mutter about blood money. She knew though, that as much as Simon did experiment in the different ways to killing off another, the side effect of having a better gun was saving another soldier who would live through a tough encounter. In a world where war was always a concern, a living soldier was her priority. Even if it wasn’t the government’s.