A Walk in the Light

White was a color reserved for children, noble maidens, and brides. Children never really wore white because... they were children. The clothes wouldn't stay white for long. I'd never seen a noble maiden, or a noble in general, for that matter. They tended to stay away from the rough parts of town where us bottom feeders lived.
There had been weddings in the more prosperous parts of the city, happy affairs that law-abiding citizens would attend and openly celebrate in the streets. Some would have white dresses or some accessories. I never personally attended such an event, seeing as I didn't mingle with that part of town, and after a while, I had a bit of a name, and avoiding crowds and guards was necessary. Weddings in the slums were much smaller if they happened at all, often celebrated at bars and then upstairs in beds. Cheap food and cheaper drinks were shared amongst whoever was present, and almost no white clothes, since they tended to attract the muck of the streets. It would have to have been made specifically for the event to have any hope of looking pure, and that was a luxury most couldn't afford.
I was attending my third wedding today, and my first that wasn't spent in a tavern. I walked down the streets, bathed in sunlight and cheers as I glanced at my side. A beautiful white dress, orange hair, golden eyes, and a blushed smile from ear to ear filled my view I as looked down slightly. I felt a slight squeeze against my hand, which I returned in kind as we walked towards the small church near the center of a village.
The third wedding I attended, and my first time being in the spotlight like this, was none other than my own wedding, a fleeting dream for most born in the streets. We'd overcome so much together, grown as people, and trusted each other with our lives. Before either of us realized it, the thought of being apart was frightening, even if we were used to cold, dark, lonely nights. Our time in the daylight, in this small village surrounded by people we'd come to know over the past few seasons, seemed like the only possible next step. I glanced at her again, feeling my cheeks warm, and she spoke, "Emil..."
I felt my world shake, a comfortable warmth on my shoulder. "Emil..."
Her voice was unnaturally strained, feeling completely out of place with the joyous occasion. "...mister assassin..."
The comfortable warmth on my shoulder was no longer comfortable. It was forceful.
"Wake up Emil!" My world shook and I blinked. When I opened my eyes, I saw the now familiar face framed by orange hair, her golden eyes glaring at me, "It looks like you were having a delightful dream. We need to go, now." Her eyes went alight and fireballs started forming in her hands. Yeah, his made more sense. This was the woman I was essentially forced to hunt down, to kill. I was more or less used to her like this, the tension, the animosity between us, and the cooperation born of a mutual need to survive. That being said, I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss as I slapped the minor blush from my cheeks, pretending I needed to wake myself up as she continued glaring and turned away. She'd probably burn a dress anyway...