In which a mysterious observer conducts an inquiry... And learns that the criminal underworld has its eyes set on the hidden world of wonders that she calls home.
The mysterious figure crouched behind a chimney, squinting down at the street below.
It looked like she'd gotten there just barely too late to see all the action... Whatever it was. The coppers were finally clearing out, after running around tripping over their own feet for a while.
Well-- she'd give them this, it looked like they actually managed to collect all the evidence this time... She didn't see anything important get caught in a drain, or roll between a cobblestone.
But watching the good defenders of the peace trying to do their duty WASN'T why she was here.
Even though it was pretty entertaining.
Standing up, the mystery girl blew a strand of lavender hair out of her face.
Whoever she was, she was a sight to behold... If there was anyone there to do the beholding, that is.
She wore a short, white pleated skirt beneath a matching, bustle-like overskirt. Over that was a white leather waist cincher, decorated with gold buttons. A violet bustier sat over a pale purple, high-necked blouse. Finally, a slim white tailcoat fit neatly on top of that. White boots laced up to her knee over mismatched stockings.
At the small of her back was a long-tailed bow, made of sheer, gradient rainbow fabric. A ruffled drape of identical rainbow fabric was pinned to her right hip by a large golden star. A matching star held up her high, bouncy side ponytail, and silver goggles sat behind her wild bangs like a headband.
She held a tall white staff in her left hand, with the bottom propped up against the shingles. It looked almost like a giant pen, or an extremely stylized paintbrush... Except without the bristles. At the top, rainbow liquid sloshed gently inside a beveled glass rectangle, like oil in a lantern.
"Alright," she muttered, pulling back one of her gold-trimmed lapels with her free hand. "You should probably get out-- I'm gonna change back here in a second."
There was a beating of gossamer wings, and a pixie fluttered out of her white coat. About four inches tall, she looked like a little girl, with black hair and a dress made from the bell of a morning glory. She glowed with a faint light, and her delicate, transparent wings shed a trail of tiny sparkles.
Hovering in front of the mystery girl's face, she made a few gentle sounds, like the chiming of a bell.
"Yeah, I know," the mystery girl replied. "Don't worry, I'll check it out... You can count on me, 'kay?"
With a rakish grin, she turned, took a few steps back... Then ran forward, jumping off the building. As she fell, her hair broke loose from its ponytail, fading from lilac to copper. Her clothes rippled like water, dissolving into light.
Landing in a catlike crouch, she straightened up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her skirt, coat and blouse had been replaced by a button-down shirt and trousers, rolled up over scuffed brown boots. A patched sweater vest sat under a shabby tweed jacket, and a leather pouch hung from her wide belt.
She tossed the staff high up into the air. There was a burst of sparkles, and when it came back down, it had shrunk into a white fountain pen. Catching it, she clipped it to her belt, then pulled a newsboy cap out of her jacket, stuffing her hair up into it.
With her slim, agile build, and her hair tucked out of sight, she was the perfect picture of a mischievous young street lad... Apart from the pixie hovering excitedly at her shoulder.
"Alright," she grinned, flicking the cap's brim. "Lead the way."
Nodding eagerly, the pixie turned, darting out into the night. The mysterious girl followed, slipping through the shadows unseen.
After a while, the pixie stopped. Fluttering back to the girl's shoulder, she made a few urgent ringing sounds, pointing across the street.
The girl narrowed her eyes. "In there, huh?" She muttered, and the pixie nodded emphatically.
They were standing across from a dingy alleyway. In a city full of dingy alleyways, it was entirely unremarkable... Except this one seemed to be the most popular alley in London.
Sounds drifted out from it... Voices, plodding bootsteps, and hammering, accompanied by faint clanks. The dull glow of an oil lamp cast confusing shadows as people moved back and forth.
Taking a deep breath, the girl glanced to either side, then darted across the street. Pressing her back against the wall, she craned her neck, peering into the alley.
A bunch of men were milling around in there. Some of them were swigging from flasks, or smoking greasy cigars or dog-end cigarettes. Others were rummaging through crates, pulling out things that clanked or creaked. Two were standing on barrels, hammering something into the brick.
The girl squinted, leaning out further. "...The heck are they doing in there?" She breathed, mostly to herself.
The pixie, still hovering near her shoulder, made a few urgent tinkling sounds.
The girl looked up, blinking. "Whuh-oh," she muttered.
A tired old horse was approaching, pulling a flatbed cart with a jumble of wood stacked on it.
Cursing under her breath, she jumped up onto a rain barrel as the pixie squeaked frantically, diving into the leather pouch on her belt. Grabbing hold of a drainpipe, she scrambled up it, making it onto a low roof and out of sight just in time.
The cart driver reined the poor old nag to a halt, jumping down from the driver's seat. "Hey-- you lot!" He barked, snapping his fingers. "Come help me with these bloody barriers... Professor's orders!"
"...Professor?" The girl repeated in a suspicious whisper.
No way... THAT Professor? As in, the guy basically running the entire criminal underworld of London? Word was, he was a genius... He'd singlehandedly gotten rid of all the old gangs and mobs, putting himself at the top. She'd never heard of him sniffing around the circles SHE ran in, though...
Dropping their tools, the men crowded around the cart, starting to unload the cargo. It turned out to be stacks of wooden barricades, the kind used to block off construction areas. With at least three under each arm, they shuffled off into the mazelike backstreets, grumbling loudly...
And leaving the alley empty for the time being.
Once she was sure they were gone, the girl dropped lightly down onto the pavement.
Pushing her cap up with her thumb, she let out a low whistle. "Woooow... So this's it, huh? One of those magic doorways? I've never actually seen one before..."
There was a white stone archway in one of the walls of the alley, like something from a Greek temple. The currents of magic flowing from it wrapped around her, filling her with an undeniable sense of peace.
Wow-- the energy was this strong, even for her? Pretty impressive, since she was just a mortal...
Okay, sure, she had been born with a lot of natural magical talent, and she'd been training in it for years. Plus, she was also the destined holder of a super-powerful artifact... But at the end of the day, she was still just a human.
...Something was hanging in front of it, though. Grabbing the solitary hand lantern from a barrel, she took a step closer, tilting her head.
There were railway spikes hammered above the arch, pinning a thick metal net to the wall like a curtain. It stretched all the way to the ground, clanking softly.
As the girl examined it suspiciously, the pixie emerged from her belt pouch. "Hey, wait--" she began, as the little creature fluttered towards the net.
As soon as the pixie got about half an inch away, there was a crackling, zapping noise. She ricocheted back in a shower of sparks, giving a squeaky tinkle.
"Shoot!" The girl swore, diving forward and managing to catch her in a fingerless-gloved palm. "You okay?!" She demanded.
Shaking her tiny head, the pixie made a few pained tinkling sounds that almost sounded like coughs.
Giving a worried growl, the girl slipped her into a pocket on the inside of her jacket. "Just hang on-- we'll be outta here in no time," she promised.
Stepping closer, she reached out, gingerly touching the net.
Nothing happened.
Okay-- if it didn't affect her, then it wasn't cursed, or charged with magical energy or anything. That could only mean...
Damn-- she should've known. It was cold iron.
A common misconception was that it was any old iron that had ill effects on the fae folk... That wasn't entirely true. Your basic, garden-variety iron- the kind in every fence, rail and carriage wheel in existence- was no problem whatsoever. 'Cold iron', as it was called, was a completely different story.
The stuff was really hard to come by, and even harder to make... It was a super secret craft, handed down from master to apprentice for centuries. There was only, like, one cold iron craftsman in all of London... They must've made bank on all this.
Something else on the wall caught her eye... Lifting the lamp, she took a closer look.
There were two identical symbols carved into the dirty brick, one on either side of the arch. Narrowing her eyes, she ran her fingertips over them. A faint thrum of power tingled against her skin.
"These are summoning runes," she muttered. "Then that means..."
She looked down.
There was half of a magic circle on the ground, right below the arch like a two-dimensional doormat.
Crouching down, she brushed a hand over the lines, rubbing her fingers together experimentally. The white, chalk-like residue had a faint shimmer to it...
Wiping her fingertips on her trousers, she turned her attention to the crates.
A dented pocket flask lay on its side on one of them, pinning down a small stack of papers.The dregs of whatever disgusting rotgut it contained had dribbled out onto them... Gross.
Snatching the slightly damp papers, she stuffed them into her sweater vest. Then she pushed the crate's lid back, raising the lantern to peer inside.
The orange light reflected off rows of large jars. Runes were embossed into the glass, and holes were punched into the screw-on lids.
Face darkening, she opened the next crate. This one was full of metal tongs, chains and shackles... And she'd bet real money they were all cold iron.
Quickly, she moved from crate to crate, rifling through the contents with a mounting sense of dread. Silver nets, spools of red thread, little collapsible cages of rowan wood...
A few large waxed envelopes turned out to be full of Eastern paper warding slips and charms. Twitching open a bundle of canvas, she uncovered coils of red-and-white rope, hung with zigzags of folded paper.
Then there were the pouches of herbs... Taking a couple, she tucked them into her belt bag for further examination. She had a feeling they were something like wolfsbane or St. John's Wort, though...
Finally, at the bottom of the last crate, she found a flat hinged box. Undoing the clasps, she flipped it open.
It was full of monocles... Except instead of lenses, they had smooth, flat stones, with large holes worn through them.
Gritting her teeth, she slammed the lid closed again, roiling with anger and disgust. Ugh, it was like a Hunter's stash. The only things missing were the silver bullets and wooden stakes...
...Wait, that's right-- the stakes and bullets WERE missing.
A sudden chill went down her spine as the realization hit her.
None of this stuff was lethal. These weren't hunting supplies- they were trapping supplies. Oh, she had a VERY bad feeling about this...
Footsteps started making their way back towards the alley.
Cursing, the girl jumped to her feet. Should she try to put everything back the way she'd found it? Cover her tracks?
No... No time for that. She'd just have to be as far away as possible when they started looking for whoever had been poking around...
Ducking out of the alley, she slipped past the cart, pulling her collar up.
The horse turned its head, watching her mournfully as she passed.
Stopping in her tracks, she gritted her teeth, wrestling with her thoughts for a moment. Then she gave a frustrated huff, turning on her heel and pulling an apple out of her pouch.
She'd been saving it for breakfast, but-- the poor old thing definitely needed it more than she did...
She held it out to the horse.
It looked from her to the apple, then lowered its head, devouring it in a single crunch. Raising its head, it looked pointedly from her to the alleyway, giving a quiet whuff.
The girl hesitated for a second. Then, with a reluctant growl, she pulled a pocketknife out of her jacket, flipping it open and slashing through the worn leather tack.
"Alright-- COME ON!" She ordered, darting back into the alley. Grabbing the iron net, she pulled it back as far as she could, making a narrow gap.
The horse, freed from the cart, shook itself like a dog, then trotted forward. As its hooves clacked across the ground, someone shouted.
"OI! WHAT THE 'ELL--"
Whinnying, the horse leapt forward. If it wasn't just skin and bones, it probably wouldn't have made it through the net... Nonetheless, it scraped its flank on the stone frame of the arch as it vanished through the flowering vines.
Dropping the net, the girl tried to sprint out of the other end of the alley. Suddenly, though, her way was blocked by an unpleasant-looking and very angry man.
"HEY!" He barked. "Whadd'ya think YOU'RE doin', you little brat?!"
He tried to make a grab for her, but she ducked under his arm, hopping out of reach. Turning, she ran back across the length of the alley, kicking over the hand lantern, still on the ground where she'd left it.
It shattered against one of the crates, hot oil spilling out and sizzling in the puddles. Flames started creeping up the wood, and the man gave an extremely non-menacing shriek.
Grinning, the girl dashed out of the alley... Right as the rest of the thugs returned. Skidding to a halt, she gave an irritated tongue-click, dropping into a defensive crouch.
"GET 'IM!" Someone ordered, and they all dove for her at once.
Dodging their clumsy grabs and blows easily, she hopped up onto the sideboards of the now-horseless carriage.
"Why, you..." A thug growled, swaggering towards her.
She flashed him another cheeky grin, which only seemed to enrage him further. Cracking his knuckles, he leapt for her in a full-body tackle.
At the last second, she jumped, clearing his head and shoulders easily. Bringing her feet down onto his back, she launched up off him like a springboard, grabbing the edge of a roof with one hand.
Another man tried to jump and grab her ankles, but got kicked square in the forehead instead. Groaning, he fell over backwards-- right on top of the guy she'd just used as a trampoline.
Swinging up onto the roof, the girl rolled to her feet, smirking proudly. "Hey, fellas-- maybe you might wanna help your friend with that fire back there?" She called, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Or you can keep tryin' to get up here... Just a suggestion, though!"
"FIRE?!" The trampoline demanded, shoving the kick-ee off of him and trying to get to his feet. "What-- AAGH!!" He'd just looked behind him into the alley, where his hapless comrade was trying to beat out the flames with his hat.
Shrieking, the entire company of ruffians scrambled to his aid, tripping over themselves and each other in their panic.
Laughing, the girl turned, starting to run. Jumping from roof to roof like a cat, she weaved through chimneys and weathercocks, darting away over the London skyline.
After about ten minutes, she finally stopped.
"Phew..."
Exhaling hard, she dropped to a seat, legs dangling off the edge of the building. Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out the pixie, curled up in her palm.
"Hey," she murmured. "You okay?"
Sitting up, the pixie gave a few more ringing coughs, rubbing her eyes with a minuscule fist. After a moment, her wings sprang up from against her back. Rising into the air, she clasped her hands behind her back, nodding with a smile.
"You sure?" The girl asked. "Listen, I can give you a ride back to Kensington Gardens if you want... Really, it's no problem."
With a few jingling giggles, the pixie drifted down onto her shoulder, swinging her legs. Then her face fell, and she made a few more tinkling sounds.
"...I dunno," the girl admitted. Pulling her cap off again, she ran a hand through her choppy bangs, face darkening. "Whatever it is, I don't like it... Not one bit."
Standing up, she turned, glaring back in the direction she'd just fled from.
"But I'm gonna put a stop to it, don't you worry. Nobody messes with the people on MY side of town... 'Specially not guys like that." Unclipping the pen from her belt, she twirled it between her fingers.
"Them, and whatever loser they're working for-- I don't care if they're a hunter, a scholar, a Professor, or what. Whoever it is, and whatever dumb scheme they're cooking up, they're going down."
Author's Notes:
Everybody say hi to my favorite OC.
I'm hoping it's pretty obvious what she is. If you know the term for what she is, it should be. (I keep forgetting that it's not a term that's as universal as, like, superhero. Even though I use it like that.)
If you don't, here's a hint: It's two words, and the initials are M-G. Or M-S, if you prefer the original Japanese term.
Are her clothes historically accurate? No. Is her hairstyle historically accurate? No. Is her vocabulary historically accurate? Still no.
Do I care? Also no. Historical accuracy is for nerds (affectionately), and... I mean, is TGMD even historically accurate to begin with? Besides the whole talking-mice-society thing? I don't think so, TBH.
As long as the... Aesthetics? I guess? Are Victorian-y enough, that's pretty much what I'm going for.
Speaking of aesthetics, the outfit she was wearing before she jumped off the roof is kinda like an AKB48 or other Jpop idol stage outfit, specifically the ones that look like a cross between a school uniform and a suit. Preppy, but also kinda militaristic in a way, with very faint accents of punk.
This particular version also has a bit of steampunk/JRPG/Black Butler/Arcane Piltover vibes mixed in. Or whatever aesthetic the more western/European-style Genshin outfits are going for. (I don't even play Genshin. Smh.)
Fun fact: Trying to design an 1800s-esque look for that outfit- even an extremely inaccurate one- for some reason, it was. SO. FRCKING. H A R D. Like, I was getting to a point where I kind of wanted to rip my eyes out, I'm not even kidding. (And I haven't even drawn the whole thing together... Or her hairstyle/head accessories. Fml.)
Fun fact number 2: This was actually supposed to be the last prologue, but I switched them around. Idk why, exactly. I just felt like this one should be first. Or second, rather. Lol.
Also, I guess the pixie is, like, a full-on Disney fairy?? Idk, man. I was debating whether or not to let the pixie talk, but... I didn't really feel like writing much dialogue. Didn't think it fit the ~vibe~ I wanted.
