ali jacobson

ophelia thought she was being followed but knowing she was runed and surrounded by mundanes she didn’t think much of it. at least not until the other walked into her. ophelia stilled the moment the other touched her, dark eyes narrowing in a glare. she bit her tongue, resisting the urge to yell out remove it or lose it mundie. she knew mundanes with the sight were a thing but she hadn’t expected to see one- let alone be touched by one. 

she played it off as nothing until she felt the lightening of her pocket and her hand lashed out, fingers wrapping around the mundane’s wrist in a grip too tight to not be painful. “you shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you.” she hisses lowly, something dark flashing trough her eyes. she leans closer, grip tightening further until the knuckles of her hand are stark white before she forces herself to loosen it. calm down. calm down. 

the nephilim wrenches her stele from the thief’s hand, jamming it into her pocket before unceremoniously dragging the mundane down the street. “you’re coming with me.” she says shortly as if it wasn’t already clear. “feel free to put up a fight. it’ll only give me an excuse to hurt you.”

ali let out a low rumble that she immediately found irritation with. she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from replying, but there was something in the other’s eyes that she found both intriguing and slightly attractive-- despite her predicament. the grip around her wrist loosened, and in turn so did the pain, but not enough for her to twist her hand out of the other’s arm. 

she let the other take the object from her hand, putting up little fight as she considered her options. she could take out her knife, but that could lead to a scene much to public for her liking, or she could talk... “and where are we going?” her tone was deeper than usual and she looked at the other with a playful smile and raised eyebrows, her eyes looking her over as they walked. she’d come to walk into steps with the other, preferring to draw the least amount of attention to herself for the time being. 

DATURA — DECEITFUL CHARMS; POPPY DRAYTON is ROSALINDA "ALI" JACOBSON, a TWENTY year old MUNDANE. She is said to be ADAPTABLE but SCHEMING as well. Let us welcome THE CRIMINAL into the Institute with open arms.

* OPEN

        THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT is not the best time to be wandering this city.   though he knows it well,  that familiarity is from the perspective of rooftops and catwalks,  not at ground level.   it should come as no surprise that he finds himself lost just after two in the morning,  when partygoers are still hopping from bar to bar and danger lurks in the shadows.   it’s with extreme reluctance that he approaches a stranger,  tentative and hanging back so he can run at a moment’s notice.

        ( it’s to his benefit that it’s dark and his hair’s a mess.                 the other might not see the small horns protruding from the top of his head. )

        “ hi,  um—  hi.   sorry to,  uh,  bother you,  but uh—  sorry,  uh—  do you know how to,  um,  get to the…  the park?   merryweather park? ”

        the question probably comes across as suspicious  —  between his hesitation and the time,  it’s definitely strange,  and it doesn’t help his case that he’s lurking    ( with notable awkwardness )    in front of a place called pike’s poison.

there was something of a comfort to be found in the middle of the night; the cover of the shadows as familiar as her own skin dominating the london streets, hiding away from any who would dare to attempt to follow. she ducked in and out of the shadows with relative calm, avoiding as many of the street lights as she could until she felt far enough away from where she’d come from, and confident enough that anyone who’d followed who no longer could find her. 

the person who approaches her is unfamiliar, but she keeps her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket as to not give away its position. unsure, hesitant, apologizes more than necessary for one conversation, hanging further away than most people would when asking for directions. she lifts her chin, looking over their body language for signs of a threat.

she lifts an eyebrow in response to the question, “are you certain you want to go to the park?” she doesn’t add whether or not she knows how to get to it.

narrowed eyes took in her surrounding of dirty buildings as she passed by them. she didn’t directly turn to those who populated the alleys she walked through out of a desire to be left alone-- street rats, the uncultured kind, often found themselves becoming overly defensive when eyes passed over their dealings. 

she finally made it through the necessary alleys, walking into a london that had gone darker than it had been before she’d entered the maze. her pace had gradually slowed, but the glimpse of a girl down the street she’d been traveling upon caused her to slow herself even further, curious at what this girl was doing out on the street while it rained. curiosity, however, took a sidestep when she saw something gleaming from the other’s pocket. how curious, she thought when she attempted to decipher what the object was and couldn’t put a name to it. she made a quick decision, although she knew would be risky, that she wanted to see it more closely. she began to move faster once again. she brought out her phone and opened up her messages and begun to type until shoulder met shoulder. 

“my lord, I’m so sorry.” the hand with her phone laid on the other’s shoulder while the other slipped out the object from the other’s pocket and realized how much heavier it was than she had first believed. it was a gamble at this point, whether the other would notice the lack of weight or be tricked, like many others, by the distraction of her hand on the other’s shoulder. she hated gambles.

@ofrevolutiion