A Perfectly Normal Alleyway In Spite.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

There is nothing exceptional about this dimly-lit back alley at all.

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[pyrrhiccomedy]

Martin Bletchley is too well-dressed to be in this alleyway. Martin does not seem concerned, or indeed even aware, that he is too well-dressed to be in this alleyway. From time to time, he extracts another cigarette from a grey case in his coat pocket, then carries on thoughtfully smoking.

No one seems to pay him much attention.

[dyxlisa]

Mabel sometimes wanders the alleys of Spite looking for corpses. For sometimes she finds very interesting and new organisms growing on them, you see, and when they come alive again they tend to rid themselves of such things very quickly, not knowing their value. She used to draw attention for her strange actions, as she does not appear nearly disreputable enough to be searching for corpses in alleyways, but she has being doing it long enough now that she is largely ignored as the eccentric she is.

On one of her outings, she sees a familiar face.

"Oh! Mr. Bletchley, is it? Fancy meeting you here!"

((invited!))

[pyrrhiccomedy]

He blinks, and starts off the wall. "Miss Watts! What on Earth--I never would have expected to find you here."

((Accepted! =D))

[dyxlisa]

"Oh! Yes, well then! I find it is a wonderful place for collecting specimens you see. It appears that the precise humidity of the air, lack of competition, and the presence of appropriate nutrition allows for unique organisms to arise. But, I am sure you do not wish to hear about such banal things," she laughs self-consciously. "What brings you here, Mr. Bletchley?"

[puella_nerdii]

The shadows suit Amaryllis better than almost anything else in the Neath, and they suit her cat even better; Well-a-day prowls the fire escapes, paws at the tails of rats foolish enough to scamper into his sight. Amaryllis gives Well-a-day an idle scratch or two, but her attention's on the nearby traffic of people, or whatever of it she can make out from here.

[dyxlisa]

Mabel is following the flow of traffic, focus apparently mostly inward. At least until she spots the movement of a furred animal out of the corner of her eye, and she perks up, to watch as the cat returns to a girl whose face is familiar, cloaked in shadow though it is. She makes her way into the depths of the alley.

"Fancy running into you again my dear!"

((seemed like a decent place to meet up! And Mabel is for more versed in shadowy things than she'll explicitly acknowledge to herself. All in the name of finding rare mushrooms, you know.))

[puella_nerdii]

Amaryllis whips her head about, narrows her eyes to slivers -- and relaxes enough of it, when Well-a-day gives her calf a firm nudge. "Oh. Evening, mum. Though it's always evening here," she adds, jerking her chin toward what passes for the Neath's sky.

((Oh excellent. *grins*))

[dyxlisa]

"That it is, which makes it quite a mystery than anything at all grows here! Save for the fungi that is," she says, quite cheerfully. "Oh, who's this then," she cooes over Well-a-day, who for the moment deigns to sniff her hand

[deixis_dyad]

Abigail counts this alleyway as one of her normal haunts: perhaps not as sophisticated as the corridors of Veilgarden, but her place is not among the sophisticates now.

She pulls out a deck of old Tarot and shuffles the cards, flea-bitten hands highlighted by the streetlamp, her face hidden not only by her veil but the shadows of the buildings plunging down from above.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Martin comes out the back door of one of the seedier local honey dens, and pauses; one-foot on the rutted cobblestone road, one foot still on the steep, narrow flight of steps. He tugs the brim of his hat down on his forehead and inspects Abigail, the light shining off her hands and shoulders.

After a few seconds, he strolls towards her. "Are you a fortune teller, mum?"

((Invited!))

[deixis_dyad]

"Depends," she smiles furtively. "Is that what you want me to be, sir?"

((Sorry this took so long! >_>; ))

[mir_3]

A young man is walking masterfully along the spine of one of the lower roofs.

Leslie is dressed quite normally for Spite - that is to say, a collection of second-hand clothing that has been patched up and brushed off numerous times. They fit him surprisingly well, and he makes no noise as he walks.

He appears to be looking for something.

[mir_3]

He pauses, then turns and slides down the slope of the roof in one smooth motion, coming to a halt and perching on the edge like some strange, man-shaped bird.

"Well, I was looking for cats."

((Accepted))

[kavalierargent]

Argentia stood quietly, leaning against a wall, the soot on said wall blending in to the smoke-soot-colour of her frock-suit. She tipped her hat to a few ladies who walked by - as always amused by those who were shocked. One particularly lovely one winked back. Gent thought of Rosa, set her jaw and didn't follow her. It was just as well, as the area was clearing out as the evening progressed and the demoness, frequently called Nancy although Gent doubted that was really her name, would be here soon, as well as Miss Snow.

[kavalierargent]

Marjorie was one o' those tykes that always caused the small bit of goodness lurking far, far back of Gent's heart to spring out and make her want to send them straight back up where they came from. She shook her head. "Better you don't, it's not the best place to come callin' regular like, ya see. But glad to help, Nancy's a good one, for a demoness, does her work regular like without fussin'. Helped me out o' a fix myself more than once. Her brother does the burying and she does the removin', as to be non-threatening to aged landladies like yer own."

She looked down the alleyway. "Just don't mind if she don't speak much, the veil makes breathin', or whatever she does, hard, so she says."