Thread: The Visions of Destruction [Thaedael & JellyFish]

I like to think myself as a sensible person. I follow what I believe, I refuse to look foolish, and I think with a straightforward mindset. At least, thats what I thought I did. I was taught a young age that a woman must be only a decoration to delicately be paraded around to show her husbands good fortune. And funnily enough, I accepted that. Until two years ago. Two years ago when a notoriously wealthy banker, a friend of my fathers died. They said it was suicide. I knew better. But you already know that, its written in the beginning of these pages. You also know how it ended. Im simply writing tonight before I leave on my next little mission. It seems many girls have been disappearing left and right all over the city. Even our maids niece has been one of the recent missing individuals. Sad really, shes only thirteen years. Which is one of the reasons why I am leaving. Miss. Livingston can barely work properly as she drowns in her grief. So before any more unfortunate girls are taken from their homes, Im going to put a stop to it. Swiftly, as I always do. Darla Johnson She looked at the page, the swirling letters of cursive flowing over the white paper. Beautifully done. Closing the leather book, she got up from her chair, pushing it back. The metal scratched against the hardwood floor, though barely leaving a scratch. She walked to her bedside table, pulling open a small drawer. She placed the journal inside, locking it away from curious hands and eyes. The moon glowed brightly, a light in the pitch darkness, a guild to those who wonder, and her only friend as she traveled down a forbidden path. She sighed, heavy hearted in this decision. There were times she felt disappointment in herself for what she did behind her fathers back. He worked so hard to protect her and make sure she was safe from the hands of this cruel world. Such a disobedient child. Pulling back the curtains of her room, she set to work. Unlacing the back of her dress, she felt the material fall to the floor, encircling her feet. She walked over it, picking up the dress, placing in on a hanger and put it into her closet. No time. Hurry. A grin spread across her face, a light chuckles passing her lips. Perhaps she would have some fun tonight. Perhaps. Gray eyes flickered over to the door, the echo of footsteps causing her body to freeze. One step, two step. Pause. Quickly she blew out the dim candle and prayed silently. They passed but not before making her heart hammer against her chest frantically. Still did she stay, until she heard the click of a door locking. Miss. Livingston that woman needs to take some medication and keep to her bed. Assured she wouldnt be disturbed again, she picked up the new attire laid onto the back of the chair. The white corset she wore kept her proportion in place, but still anyone who held the skill of observance would notice her as a woman. Strips of cloth, torn and shredded carefully now were in her hands. She wrapped the strips around her upper body. A choked gasp made its way to her tongue, air absent from her lungs. She held her hand to her stomach, forcing herself to take in the oxygen that seemed to try and avoid her. Darla once catching herself pulled on a black shirt, featuring a buttoned neckline, as well as a flat, folded collar. The full length of the sleeves were designed to be loose-fitting and are drawn in to the wrists as cuffs. Satisfied, she swiftly put on the same colored pants and boots. Biting her lip, she dragged her teeth across the soft skin turning her full attention to the body length mirror. Her double looked back at her and copied her movements as she crossed the floor to stand in front of the glass. A delicate hand reached up to her hair, pulling at the blonde strands. Messily, her hands crawled over her head, pinning the curled hair into a slack bun. Only now the short bangs were left, the same locks she kept cut for moments such as these. No one had really noticed, the rest of her mane thick and luscious. Ina matter of moments, she was dressed completely in black. And with that she left. Like a shadow she had made herself, she passed down the steps. Memory kept with her, placing the silver tipped boots in where no sound could be made. The soft snores of her father where the only thing that could be heard in the dark house. And she was grateful for that. Darla made it, undetected and unnoticed to the front door. Nervously, she pulled at her gloved hands. Here goes nothing. The winter bitten chilled of the night air, whisked past her cheeks. Her eyes watered slightly but unfaltering she walked out her home, the castle of protection in which her father made to be greeted by the unknown of the dark and the creatures that lurked. But then again, she was now one of those creatures. Quietly, the coat that draped her form blew behind her as she walked down the moonlit streets. The further she traveled, the further she walked a shudder passed her spine, a never ending sense of alarm. What the hell are you doing, you idiot? Go home! This isnt something for your meddlesome nose to poke at! Women and girls are being taken! That means you! You are a woman! You -- She swiped her hand in front of her face, as if brushing away a bothersome bug from buzzing around her head. Lips drawn in a firm line and eyes narrowed, the hat she wore shadowed her face. Darla kept her head down, once in a while shouldering past a stumbling drunk or a cooing seductress of the night. This had become normal for her and showing no reaction had become a habit. An unstoppable habit. But while she had always felt calm, tonight was different. Everything told her to turn around and head straight home. Forget this mission! Put it behind you and let Scotland Yard deal with it!, a small shrill voice shrieked. But her legs kept moving forward, only stopping to pause and look up. And for what felt like ages, she gave one glance up and saw the place she heard in passing gossip. Whispering Tavern the quaint little business run by a noble. Or so it was said. No one knew who run the establishment but that didnt matter. One thing was for certain and it was only few people knew what happened inside those walls. Rumors that illegal dealings went on, but the police had searched once the rumors had gotten out of control and nothing was found. But that was to be expected anyway. But if she wanted a chance at learning what was going on in this town it would be here. Her heart began to pound again, harder, faster. She had no right to be here but brazenly she walked up those dreaded steps. Two knocks. Just two. Her head bent low went a panel opened, dreary eyes looking at the shadow like stranger. How many times did the bird cry? Fourteen. The was an eerie silence between the man and herself. Cold sweat had started a trail down her neck, soaking into her collar. Did she say the wrong thing? One of the workers he had confessed to her the password, after some persuading. But what if he lied? Her hand clenched and she waited. Waited for what would happen neck. Click A sigh of relief passed over her and she stepped into the muggy room. Black Jack had now made his appearance and trouble was sure to follow.