The time reads 7:13, on January 2, 1886, in London, England.
"Like this?" The blonde-haired girl looked at her father, then to the piece of fabric in your hands to compare the stitching patterns.
"Not quite," James said, leaning forward to show her the correct way. "If you stitch it that way, then the seam won't be strong, and everything would fall apart."
"Well, how do you two do it so easily?" Samantha asked as she watched you tie the end of the thread on a pair of trousers.
"I've done this much longer than you have," You chuckled, making sure everything was sewn before handing the pants back to Michael, who'd torn them on his way home from school. "You'll get the hang of it soon enough."
"Don't worry Sam," James said, smiling brightly at his daughter. "Y/n was just as clumsy as you are,"
"I was not!" You argued, standing up as you tossed the trash into the bin.
"I'd say you were," A redhead spoke from the cushions in the other room, looking up from his book as he grinned. "Used to be a real church-bell too."
"And you're a gal-sneaker, Elijah!" Samantha called. "Ain't nothing but a womanizer! Papa says to stay away from boys like you!"
"I'd stay at least ten meters back from that eye-sore. You never know when he'll drop one of those corny lines that make you cringe," James laughed.
"Oh, har-har," Elijah rolled his eyes. "But I'm not like that now, am I?"
"That's 'cause you got goo-goo eyes for Y/n!" Michael said, sticking his tongue out in disgust.
"Oh, look!" Helen snickered as Elijah's cheeks tinted red. "We've got him all poked up!"
"Who wouldn't?" Elijah said, glancing at you. "They're quite the beauty. Say, why don't we run off and get hitched in a little church in the country?" He asked with a lopsided grin, placing his arm above your head. You glared up at him with a small smile.
"You're mad," You stated, walking away.
"Why not?" He called after you. "You're eighteen! Most people are married at this point!"
"I'm not most people, and even if I did marry, it wouldn't be to the likes of you. I just might catch a disease and die from it," You said.
"Ouch," Harry said, patting Elijah's shoulder as he passed.
"C'mon Y/n," The redhead said, cutting you off as he grabbed your shoulders. "It wouldn't hurt anything,"
"I'm not marrying you," You said, flicking his forehead. "And I won't date you either, so don't even ask,"
Elijah closed his mouth with a pout, looking down at you with puppy eyes. You shoved his head away as you walked past and retrieved your cloak from the back of the chair.
"Y/n, are you going out?" James called.
"I am! Why?" You returned to the main room as you fastened the clasp.
"Please be careful," He said, standing up and placing his hand on the top of your head to ruffle your hair. "You always worry me when you leave and don't come back for days on end."
"Like a stray cat!" Elijah added as he walked past. You stuck your foot out and tripped him. He fell face-first into the hardwood flooring with a loud thud and a groan of pain.
“I deserved that,”
"Don't worry. I'll be home later tonight with something to eat. I'm collecting some pounds that I'm owed," You said, pulling your hood up. James reached out and grabbed your hand, slipping the glove from it and untied the bandages. Your hand was scarred and bruised. It was your dominant hand, and the one you'd broken three years ago. James examined it before wrapping it up again and slipped your glove back on.
"I'd rather have you back than have a loaf of bread," He stated firmly, gazing at you with bright blue eyes. You could still see the remnants of coal dust smeared on his cheek from working in the nearby factory. He hated the smell of it, so his scent was always a mixture of coal and cinnamon.
“Alright,” You muttered. “I’ll be back before dark then. With a loaf of bread,”
He smiled softly as you waved, then slipped from the door and onto the fire escape. It had been about a year since you moved from the small tenement and into an actual apartment. You were thankful for the larger space, and for the fact that you were able to have some alone time to yourself every now and then. You loved James and his children, you really did, but they could be a handful.
James wasn’t your biological father. He wasn’t your uncle or your cousin or brother-in-law. You had no relationship with him. Your father had never been in the picture, and your mother, who was still alive somewhere, ran off and left you on your own. She was a prostitute who accidentally got pregnant, and after she’s given birth, she barely raised you to be two years old before she was dumping you on the street, and running after another man. You had learned to steal to survive, and you hid in the shadows most of your life. When James had found you, you had been so exhausted and malnourished. You could barely stand on your own two feet, and you were extremely underweight. He picked you up off the broken glass you’d been standing on in the alleyway, took you back to his home, and raised you. He made sure you ate every day, taught you how to read each night after he got off work, and cared for your wounds. He was the first person you ever trusted.
James had a wife named Joette, but unfortunately, she died due to tuberculosis about seven years ago, soon after the youngest, Samantha, was born. She had taught you how to sew, how to cook, and how to do basic household things. She had a rocker chair that James had built for her that she would sit in with you in her lap, rocking back and forth while singing to you. Joette was the only woman who’d ever known that actually cared for you. You didn’t exactly know how to react once she died. James had found you sitting in her chair, legs folded under you as you sewed a blanket she used to cover her legs with when she sat there.
Since then, you sort of stepped up as the other parent. You made sure everyone ate before you did, everyone was healthy, and that no one was in trouble. In addition to James’ poor excuse for a paycheck, you brought in whatever money you collected from your ‘job’. Thief, swindler, scoundrel; you’d been called lots of things. But it put money in your hands, so you didn’t care how you got it. It was also easy because of how malnourished you were when you were younger; you didn’t grow very much. At eighteen years old, you were 158 centimeters tall, and 49 kilograms. You weren’t very strong, but you met it with speed. You were fast, which was needed when you were a thief. You had to be quick and quiet, if not, it could cost you your life.
The ratway was the most dangerous part of England, and not many people knew about it. To most nobles and rich, Ogre street was a dangerous place in London, but that was because the ratway was a pure rumor. However, thieves, drug dealers, and black-market salesmen were highly familiar with the place. Including you.
There was an unspoken bond between thieves. If you saw someone picking a pocket, you made sure to alert them if a police officer was nearby. If another thief was in trouble and running until they got trapped, the other person made sure to get them out and hidden until the trouble died out. If a thief needed help with a bigger threat, they ganged up. Even if you had no idea who the other person was, you helped and got a part of the cut. Sometimes, you were given jobs that needed to be done, and you got paid handsomely for it. One person was well known for that in the ratway.
Her name was Kaliah. No one knew her last name, and no one dared to ask. She was a millionaire with loads of money and paid thieves like you to do her dirty work. You were one of the people she trusted the most, and most of the money you made was from her. Her jobs required the fastest, sneakiest and talented thieves, which was a small circle of people including yourself.
You pushed the curtain back from her stall and announced your arrival. You walked inside and plopped down in one of the plush chairs at the round table. Other people sat around the table, waiting on the headmistress to make her arrival. You were seated between Elijah and another person who you hadn’t bothered remembering the name of. She was a girl with solid black hair and was the only woman that you knew of besides Kaliah. She was swift, but she was slower. She was stronger so it made up for the speed she lacked.
“Hey,”
“Buzz off, ginger,” You muttered.
“That’s not nice, Vexxy,” Elijah pouted.
“I’m not nice and don’t ever call me ‘Vexxy’ again. That’s stupid,” You said, glaring at him in the corner of your eye. He propped his chin in the palm of his hand and winked one of his dark green eyes at you.
“Vexxy,” Your lip curled in disgust and your blade slammed on the table between his fingers, making him yelp and for his hand to fly from the table.
“Now, now, Vex,” A sultry female voice cooed behind you. You turned to watch the gray-haired woman enter the small room. “You cannot slice Elijah’s fingers off just yet. I may need him in the long run.”
“If he wasn’t such a pester then I wouldn’t have the urge to,” You huffed.
“The only thing he’s good at is picking a lock,” A man snickered from across the table. This caused a few people to chuckle.
“Or maybe running,” The girl beside you said.
“You guys are a bunch of arseholes!” Elijah exclaimed.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough now,” Kaliah said, seating herself at the only empty seat at the circular table. “It’s time we get down to business. Does anyone have the time?”
“8:38,” Someone said, pocketing a watch.
“Great. Just in time,” Kaliah mumbled. “I have a job for you and Elijah, Vex. That is if you're willing to take it. It’s more complicated than anything I’ve given you before.”
“We’re listening,” Elijah said, switching from his playful attitude to a much more serious one.
Kaliah grinned. You frowned behind your hood, eyebrows furrowing together with displeasement. She had given you odd quests before...but you’ve never seen this type of look on her face before.
“Steal the Joestar’s fortune.”
~~~
Hi guys. I just wanted to say that um..
This book is literally so fun to write. Like I love the dialogue from 1880-1890. It's so funny.
Have a great day :)