Thread: Dresses and Derangement (Shikokudarkstar & Charlie_Death)

Thomas Haly sometimes forgot that there was still some good manners in the world. It was mostly uncommon to see someone on his street with them but then again, living so close to those of whom raised him came with that price. He wanted to save them all but some of the prostitutes really did like their jobs and never wanted to go back to what they were doing before. Besides, they got more pay handling men instead of cleaning. Sometimes he didn't blame them but with a killer on the loose, he was more determined than ever to get them off the streets. It didn't matter if they ended up in brothels or as servants, just as long as they got out of harm's way. Looking now at the man before him, he eyed his situation warily. It wasn't often that someone offered something without asking something else in return. So, warily he let the man help him balance for a moment before looking to see if what he said really would be accurate. Of course, the latter he did discreetly and without much thought. I thank you, kind sir for your offer. I am in no need of your services. My home is not far from here and my brother is waiting for me. Thomas lifted his hand delicately off the older gentleman's arm before giving a small bow in thanks and starting his slow trek home. When Thomas dressed himself up as Arabella, he was told he was most fetching. His silken black hair naturally had ringlets that he let down when he was dressed as a woman and when he worked at it, his hair stayed beautifully buoyant and flowing. Even if his hair seemed a mess, it somehow bounced back into place perfectly. His fair complexion didn't need much work to make feminine, he subtly accented his natural features with the right amount of cosmetics. It had taken a while to perfect it but it had been worth it. He looked enough like a woman that he could pass but still looked like himself or his 'twin brother'. Besides that other natural attributes like his weight naturally going to his posterior and somewhat to his chest helped out. The garments that the ladies wore also helped since they well covered his legs and accented other areas to the admirers attention. Arabella did indeed have a lot of admirers. Not enough that she was the bell of the ball by any means. Nor would she ever get married to a gentleman of high standing. She was beautiful but poorer. The meant Arabella got a lot of proposals to be bought or used as a mistress. Some even went too far with this and got blackmailed. Not that there were a lot that went that far. There were other beautiful women much more willing. Arabella was just one of many. Thomas reached his door with a heavy sigh but right before he could go inside and begin to relax he heard a blood-curling scream. Without much thought to his tired body or what he was wearing, he ran down the street and down to the alley where he came upon the distraught woman. Of course it didn't take him long to see the body, nor the blood that seemed to cover the ground. It was splashed across the ground in a thick pool of red. An angry slash had split the poor victim's throat in a facsimile of a smile. Go get Thomas! The woman, obviously the poor soul who had found the body, screeched out. Her voiced seemed to be going ever higher. Apparently even at this level of stress his name was the first to be called for by the ladies who worked the streets. The constable would have to be called as well but not many of the people around White Chapel. So he would send one of his people to get the constable and change his clothing. He hurried back his home, sliding back inside before telling his 'butler'. She was the first woman who had wanted to work for him instead of going back to the street life and probably the only woman who knew his secret. Thomas redressed quickly before running out of his room and back to the body. He hadn't long to wait before the woman who had found the scene babbled out all of her story. Apparently the girl who had been murdered was working alone instead of keeping in sight of the other women. She had obviously been picked up by a man but no one remembered him or even saw him. Once the Constable came, the matter seemed to be shut down quickly, there wasn't a lot of stir for a dead harlot. Only the fact that there was a murderer about killing a good number of harlots seemed to worry the 'good' people of London. Thomas escorted the working woman home before going back to his own home. At least the scare and shock of seeing the body of one of another in her profession had stirred her to quit. It wasn't as fun when one had the chance of getting killed. Only once Thomas found himself at home alone did he relax. His body hurt and ached all over. It would be nice to have the day off tomorrow but he had too many mouths to feed. He had too many to support who couldn't work without a new identity. He needed money to pay for them as well as dresses and clothing for himself. A escort had to change with the fashions. It often wasn't something he particularly liked about the job since he was rather fond of all his dresses. Perhaps he was a deviant that the religious people crowed about. He liked the feel of women's clothing. Often he found himself just sitting in his women's underwear and relaxing. He enjoyed it as often as he could but usually without anything perverted in mind. Tonight he had no time for such relaxation. He simply crawled into bed without a piece of clothing at all. The next day wasnt much better. He didnt find the body of one of the girls that he was trying to help off the streets but he did lose another one of the women in his life. His mothers best friend and the only other parent he had had growing up had been killed by the disease that some of the bastard aristocracy had given her. He had a gotten home from work to receive a letter from the housekeeper of one of the women that he truly loved. She had passed everything that he had given her back to him. He had treated her like a queen as much as he could but there was no amount of money that had been able to prevent her being taken from him earlier. Anger roared through his veins at the loss of her. He had seen to her things as well as he could and arranged for her funeral to happen soon. Leaving the house that he had given her, he stormed into a tavern and proceeded get himself thoroughly drunk. After a few rounds of fisticuffs with the richer patrons he was cast out onto the street. Mostly this was because even while roaring drunk he seemed to beat the ass of those pompous asses. Not that it took much mind you. They had cushioned lives before some drunken bastard decided to wail blows down upon them. Thomas chortled with glee even as he landed chest first onto the ground before him. He was the pariah of the London society, one of the lowest rungs that you could be before falling off the social ladder. The only reason he didnt fall fully out of the social spectrum was because of his darling twin sister. Somehow his alter ego as Arabella won some of the hearts of the ton. Not many mind you he had a good amount of people who snubbed their noses at him even as her. Thomas needed an outlet for his anger and as himself he could cause as much problems as he wanted. Of course walking home while thoroughly roaring drunk was a bit of problem especially since he couldnt seem to walk in a straight line nor seem to keep himself from harassing those of higher birth. One particular victim of his harassment seemed familiar though in his inebriated brain, he couldnt place him. Assuming the worst of those who were higher among the London society had been trained into him since birth so he didnt question his first emotion of hatred. Thomas stumbled heavily into the man before kicking his legs out from under him and making the other fall directly upon his posterior. This isnt a sight I seen often. Thomas sneered at the man, Never seen a rich gentleman upon the ground before. Cant sire any bastards or get any of those wretched harlots your diseases from there. Thomas swayed side to side, his hair moving with him in the strict ponytail that kept his natural ringlets from being out of control. At the moment his errant chest fat was strapped down into flat pectorals. He dressed somewhere between middle and lower class, a parody upon the high societys views of fashion. He was always making fun of the Ton. What idiotic fools they were. Got to be on top to do all those deeds. He nodded sagely whole changing his accent to match a lower class citizen. But golly, you all just make me sick. Of course his stomach had been protesting the large quantities that he had been consuming back at the tavern. It chose that exact moment to spew its contents back upon the unwary victims crotch. After embarrassing himself with them both with his inebriated antics, he took off his coat and threw it to the man to clean off the spew. Ill see you at dawn, bastard. Oh wait, you high types are too busy looking down on the rest of us to come to a duel. Too bad, no need to have one. He stomped off before going home to a water closet and a lecture on the perils of being drunk by his butler.