【𝐀 𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥】➛𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓑𝓾𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓻

4

Despite the looks [Name] got as she stumbled through the streets, from nobility and poor folk alike she couldn't necessarily blame them, as she too would be confused if she saw a girl who seemed extremely lost, wearing what would've been a wonderful dress if it wasn't stained with dirt and grass, no shoes— only stockings, prancing through the streets, dirtying herself even more with the mud on the cobblestone streets.

Making her way into an alleyway she paused, leaning her back against the cold, damp wall as she tried to grasp what was going on.

In what seemed to be less than an hour she seemed to have found herself in history. Her eyes caught on the damp newspaper near her feet, the headlines reading as clear as day made her knees almost buckle below her as this new reality slowly dawned on her.

"Ghastly Murder
 in the east-end
Dreadful Mutilation of a Woman"

Shaking her head she looked back around the corner of the alleyway, she's in the east end, at least from which she could tell. 
Even though beggars lined the alleyway she was stood in, glaring at her from where they sat as she glanced her figure up and down. Nobility still roamed the streets, and seemingly luxury shops lined the streets. One shop in particular caught her eye, a confectionary shop with a title that she instantly recognised. 

But yet she had more important things to find out. Going down the alleyway to the other end the woman paused mid-step, feeling the hem of her dress catch behind her. Turning to see what had snagged it, she froze, words dying on her lips.

A figure sat on a thin, threadbare piece of fabric, barely enough to keep her legs dry against the damp ground. She was wrapped in a filthy cape, offering the barest protection from the biting cold. But what held the woman's attention most was the small boy huddled beside her.

The child, perhaps eight years old, was curled against the woman's side, shivering under the bulk of the cape, which she had draped more over him than herself. His frame was frail, his skin pale, and his eyes barely open.

"Do you have any spare change, dear?" the woman on the ground asked softly, before she recognised [Name]'s own attire, "Oh, my apologies dearest..."

Her voice stirred the standing woman from her trance. She glanced down, meeting a kind yet weary smile. The woman had released her grip on the dress her hand now resting in her lap. "You look like you've been through hell n' back..." she held a hand to her lips, her eyes looking at [Name] with pity, despite her own condition.

"I—" The words caught in her throat. She was no stranger to tales of hardship, but seeing it face to face was another matter entirely.

"I'm sorry," she managed finally, her voice thick, "bear with me. I just need to fetch something."

The woman on the ground smiled again, this time with resignation. "Oh, alright," she said quietly. It was a smile that spoke of dashed hopes, of people who promised to return but never did. But she still looked at [Name] with that same look of pity, 

The standing woman walked briskly to the pub at the end of the alley, her mind racing. She needed a plan—anything to help. Spotting a wealthy man near the entrance, about to pull cash from his coat, an idea struck.

"Order for [Lastname]?"

The shout from the counter startled her. She stepped forward, handing over the stolen money without hesitation and taking the steaming parcel of food wrapped in paper. Without looking back, she exited the pub, albeit not without a look from the man at the counter, raising a brow at her attire like many had done.

As she returned to the alley, her shadow stretched ahead of her, casting over the pair on the ground. The woman glanced up from wiping mud off her son's cheek, squinting at the approaching figure.

"Ah, dear, you've returned," she said softly.

The standing woman nodded, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Yes. This is for you and your son." She handed over the hot food, her voice low as she 

The seated woman's eyes widened in gratitude as she accepted the offerings. "Oh my! Thank you so much... William, dear, would you like to thank the kind lady?"

The boy peeked out from beneath the cape, his frail face breaking into a small smile. "Thanks..." he murmured.

The woman nodded, attempting to smile back but finding herself too overwhelmed. She turned to leave but paused after only a few steps.

Looking down in her palm at the small bag of coins, she walked back and placed it in the woman's hands. "Please, take this too."

The seated woman gasped, her gaze dropping to the heavy satchel. "Oh, heavens, no! This is yours. You need it—"

She stopped abruptly, eyes flicking over the other woman's attire once more, then to [Name]'s dirtied hands, fingers looking like she had done a grave by with nothing but her nails.

"I insist," the standing woman said firmly. "You need it more than I do." Stealing from the rich to give to the poor...a certain man clad in green would've been proud.

"Are you sure..? It doesn't seem too much like it..." The comment made her pause momentarily, looking back down at herself, very much aware of how she looked. 

Hesitantly, the woman accepted the satchel, stuffing it immediately in her skirt pocket before looking down 

"How can we ever repay you, dear—" she began but stopped mid-sentence. Her benefactor was already gone, vanishing as swiftly as she had appeared.

Wandering through the meandering alleyways of Victorian London wasn't for the weak. With constant glares and shoving [Name] truly resisted the urge to shove the next person back who was willing to be so rude onto the heavy hooves of the horses that were constantly going up and down the cobblestone streets, making it all too difficult to cross.

As she mindlessly turned into another alleyway she had made it in only a few strides until a hand rested on her shoulder, making her jump back almost instantly to find a frowning face of a man she swore she'd seen before.

"Why, there you are my Lady," spoke the white-haired man. His gaze was gentle as his blue eyes looked down at [Name] with a caring look, however, she swore his eyes were violet only a blink ago.

Taking a cautious step back his hand slid off her shoulder, "...sorry? Do I know you?"

The man straightened up his posture, a hand on his chest as she bowed, "Apologies, my lady. Have I mistaken you? You've been running around London, and it's hard to catch up." He frowned, a hand on his chin. "And look at you, what have you been doing that you've managed to get in such a state, look, you even lost your shoes,"

[Name] looked back at him, even more so confused, why was this man acting as if he knew her? "What?"
"Ah, are you not [Name] [Lastname]?" He questioned,
"What is it to you?" she sneered, 

The man bowed slightly once again, "Ash Landers, at your service my lady. You must be my new master." he smiled.

The explanation made her reel back, a million questions popping up in her head, " Excuse me..? I am the master of no one, you..." She struggled to find her words as he shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips as he walked close to her, laying a gentle hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the alleyway.

"Let's discuss this again at your home now. After you have cleaned up, hm? I was aware you weren't familiar with London, but I wouldn't have thought you would get yourself in a situation such as this,"