June 14th, 1890 — Hogsmeade Slums

With Miss Scott returned safely to her lodgings (if they could be considered that), Cyrus began to make his own way home. The pair had worked late into the evening; it was not yet midnight, but the healer suspected it must not be far off. Their patient had been a woman of a certain occupation who had tried a homebrewed remedy to rid herself of a developing pregnancy. In his former life, both her profession and this particular decision would have been things he looked down his nose at her for, but since his initial transformation, Cyrus Westerman had grown increasingly sympathetic to the lower echelons of the world.

The pair had done their best, but the woman had not survived the ordeal. Before departing, he had reminded her friend, who had fetched them, to procure such tonics only from trusted midwives in future. 

He was perhaps three blocks from Miss Scott's current address when he noticed a shadow dogging his own and his hand moved to rest upon his wand; four blocks later, the wizard chose to confront it.

"Are you following me?" Cryus asked, tone annoyed, rather than angry, as he turned to face...whomever (whatever?) it was. His wand was in his hand properly now—one was unwise to take chances in this part of Hogsmeade.

  

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— MJ is pretty nifty @ graphics, if I do say so myself! —

Rose had only seen him out of the corner of her eye, when she was leaving the old seamstresses' house.  She was a misty-eyed old thing, soapy and degenerate from an over-reliance on drink, but she could sew like the finest atelier in Paris.  Rose kept her supplied with food and drink, even paid her rent, in exchange for sewing work and costumes for the girls of her music hall.  She had been dropping off fabric and had been just shutting the door behind her when she saw him exiting another house on the row, looking grim.  The darkness in the alley hid all but some of the detail of his face and form. 


She was sure it was him! Healers bag and all! It had been nearly 10 years since she had seen him, they had both changed a great deal since then, but she had to know for certain.  She had tracked him and the lady he had been with down the alleys and the darkened streets of Hogsmeade.  Could he possibly be here in England? After all of this time? 


She had thought herself subtle and well hidden, up until the moment he stopped and turned to face her.  Cursing the fact that she had forgotten her wand, she fished a small switchblade out of her purse, a lady should never be entirely unprepared- it was dangerous in her line of work and London especially of late. It had been less than 6 months ago since another Ripper victim had been found.  Although Hogsmeade wasn't London, and the man had a wand, not a blade. 


'What are you doing here?' she asked her tone icy but vaguely controlled, what little threat a woman, albeit one with a blade posed to a male wizard who was armed.

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DRESS

  

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Stef made this and it's beautiful!

Even with only the dimmest of lamplight to aid him, Cyrus could tell the figure was a woman before she even spoke; at her words—or rather, her tone—the healer could not help but bristle.

"I do not know what it is you are doing or why you have elected to follow me," Cyrus spoke, ignoring her peculiar question altogether, "but if you'll not be forthcoming as to an explanation, I suggest you be on your merry damn way."

  

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— MJ is pretty nifty @ graphics, if I do say so myself! —

'enough pretense' she started a little surprised that the voice that came out of his mouth was a clipped British tone and not the New York twang that she had been expecting. Not that that had deterred her from her belief - her former husband had likely reinvented himself much as she had - and goodness only knows who he was hiding from.

Anger overrode her discretion and she took an agitated step towards him, the small blade still clutched in her fist, less than 6ft between them now. 'Whatever you think you are doing here you bastard you had best be moving on' she hissed in her own southern drawl.

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Stef made this and it's beautiful!

Cyrus hadn't the faintest idea what this woman was on about, but similarly, had no real urge to uncover whatever it was she thought was going on.

"I should happily be on my way if I can be assured I will not be stalked to my home," he returned curtly, reviving the middle class airs with which he had been raised. "I have no quarrel with you otherwise."

  

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— MJ is pretty nifty @ graphics, if I do say so myself! —

Rose took a step forward preparing to full threaten her ex-'husband' with the small blade in her hand, but as she stepped, the light from behind her caught his face, and she could see it wasn't Francis Castellan. A similar form, the same long litheness to his frame, even the cant of his head and shoulders was the same as the way in which Francis held himself. Apparently, the accent had not been faked.

'I do apologize Doctor' she noted, with a flick retracting the blade and sliding back from him, putting distance between them once more. 'I think it's safe to say, I thought you were someone else - someone I wouldn't care to see again.' she explained, although it was a cold recompense for pulling a knife on a man.

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Wrap unless Cyrus wants to have it out for pulling a knife.

  

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Stef made this and it's beautiful!