Just on the corner of a street in London, stood a young woman. Here's the strange thing: she wasn't wearing a fancy victorian dress like all the other women in London. Scarlett hated those wretched things. She preferred mens clothing really, something that didn't chase the air from her lungs.
So there she stood, her long golden blond hair was tucked firmly under her cap. Which she tilted to every women as they waddled by in their death dresses in corsets. Some where daring enough to give her flirtatious smiles, she slightly chuckled and returned the favor. You would think her slim figure would give her away, but no one seemed to have noticed. Oh if only they knew, she thought.
She checked the time of her dangling silver pocket watch and frowned, He's late, she thought bitterly and snapped it shut. Then checked the time again after a few minutes as impatience quickly grew on her.
"Are you waiting for someone important, Miss?"
The familiar voice made her slowly turn her head, there stood a towering man who must have not been a day over 26. Blue eyes, color of the sky, she thought. He wore a black suit, and she saw the reason why he was late: freshly shined black dress shoes.
"You're late," she said bluntly through clenched teeth.
"And you were prompt, as usual. I'm not really a stickler for punctuality you see."
"Enough. Where is it?"
"You must be patient, my fair lady. For I am only the messenger."
"Then do your job, and take me to it's bearer."
"As you wish," well somebody is either eager, or just wants to get it over with, it's hard to tell with her, he thought.
The man lead Scarlett away from the crowded streets and into a back ally way. It was dark, due to the tall buildings that forbid any light to pass through. The people there all sat behind trash cans, she was glad that she wasn't a low life like them. That would be a crisis in her family name!
Every time she passed a trash can she tensed, like they were waiting to strike the business men. But every time they passed, Scarlett noticed that they were only sleeping.
"Don't mess this up, Scar."
She was stunned at his sudden comment, Mr. Sin wasn't the conversationalist.
"I don't appreciate you scrutinizing me. I've done exchanges like this before."
"I will guarantee, that you will never seize another opportunity such as this."
"You, should be more concerned as to what the usage will be," the smirk on her face was evident because she saw his eyes widen a little. When he recovered himself he said,
"I've seen young Alchemists such as yourself drive themselves mad with power."
"You needn't worry. I've it under control."
"That's what they all say until the lose a limb or two," there was a slight hint of humor in his voice. Scarlett shot him a look from under the brim of her hat with her emerald eyes. He shrank back and cleared his throat, then coughed into his handkerchief. I forgot how menacing she can be... he thought.
They spent a few moments in an uncomfortable silence, until he stuck his arm out in front of her.
"We're here."
They stood before a small shack, it was covered in complicated designs, all made out of cement. Window shutters were hanging by a limb and dangled over the dirt. The shingles were falling from the roof as crows landed on them, then adjusted to the wooden support beans. Their beady little yellow eyes dared them to come closer.
"Well this certainly is, inviting," she commented while grimacing at the crow droppings that landed near her already muddied dress shoes. The two approached a large wooden door. As her escort knocked she took in the designs made out of wood. Well, the manufacturer had something specific in mind, or perhaps it was the customer, she thought. The fine lines were like vines as they intertwined, split apart, and then met again like an unexpected twist of fate.
"That's odd, no one is answering," her escort pulled her down back down to reality.
"Well then, let's invite ourselves in, shall we?" She turned the door knob and grunted with frustration, it was of course, locked, "I suppose I'll be needing some assistance," she pulled out a small piece of chalk from her pocket and knelt down on one knee.
"Working your magic?"
"I suppose you could call it that."
She started to draw the outline of a circle with a steady hand. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead as she started to draw intricate designs and a few moments later realized something: the designs she was drawing where the exact same as on the ones engraved on the door. That can't be a coincidence, she thought. Scarlett would normally want to research that, but she hadn't the time right now. She continued to draw, secretly slacking off and just following the lines on the door.
When the masterpiece was finished she blew gently to wipe away the excess chalk dust.
"You should stand back," she said and soon he disappeared from her peripheral vision Scarlett planted both her hands flat on the doors surface. Smoke started to emit from the wood. Her hands started to burn. Someones instincts would have kicked in to tell them to yank their hands away, but she knew she couldn't forfeit the transmutation.
Block it out Scar, she thought to herself and closed her eyes until she felt her hands on the other side. She then yanked her hands away and cursed softly to herself.
"Your hands," he whispered.
"It's nothing. Can you reach in and find the lock?"
"Why of course."
Scarlett scooted out of the way for him, still trying to soothe her burning hands. He carefully slid his arm through the still smoking hole and felt around with his fingers until he felt a knob. He fumbled with the metal trying to turn it,
"Come on now," he said frustrated, but then a few seconds later his fingers reached it and soon the door creaked open. She quickly forgot about the burning sensation and ran in.