* NO / ANGEL

“you don’t have to lecture me on the art of a woman,” winifred pointed out quietly, eyes subtly taking in the audience around them to be sure she was keeping herself covered. winifred rolled her eyes in slight amusement at the girls words, “your bawd must be thrilled. considering.” she motioned to herself - most bawd’s got nervous at the idea of their harlots speaking with winnie; she had a knack for stealing them right from under their noses. but this gilr didn’t belong in winifred’s house. “i’m not lonely,” winifred shook her head in disagreement, though she was just that very thing. “i’ve a whole house of women dying to get their hands on my coin.” she referred to the molly house, ignoring the fact that she’d paid for the attention. whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness had it wrong.

“My apologies. Sometimes I’m speaking more to myself than the person I’m talking to.” Rebecca waved her hand at the mention of her bawd. Business was business and Rebecca socializing didn’t do anything to harm what they did at the molly house. She was smart enough to not shit where she ate. “I’m not talkin’ about the sort of loneliness you get from not having someone in your bed. I’m talking about the loneliness you feel when you’ve got no real friends in the world.” It wasn’t like she was extending her friendship, but she could only assume that everyone wanted something from the bawd. “ The conversations I have with my ladies before or after the throes of lovemaking makes me think about a life where every interaction wasn’t an exchange.” 

“And whereabouts is ‘not too far’?” He questioned as he pulled on his boots. Evidently close enough to walk here at any rate, but Seb wasn’t familiar with her and did know most of the regular faces around Covent Garden. “There’s certainly a variety. I could brush shoulders with a girl begging on the streets one moment and a distant relation of the royal family the next.” There were all sorts there, but it was something of a playground for the rich - just poor enough that they could feel the thrill of being in what they considered the slums, yet still wealthy enough that they could hobnob with their rich friends in expensive shops.

“Now if I give everything away, Mr. Pierce, there’d be no intrigue in our conversation.” He’d find out soon enough. Especially if they were heading that way. But she didn’t recognize him and that was no surprised to her - she didn’t exactly roam the neighborhood daily. But he certainly wasn’t a harlot, he didn’t have the air about him. “So I’ve heard. It’s not the worst neighborhood London has to offer but it’s not the best. I’ve taken a few strolls in Covent Garden and it’s actually quite nice. Have you ever actually met someone with royal blood? I’ve rubbed elbows with a duchess or two in my time. ”

“Good thing you’re not peeking, wouldn’t want anything hiding under the water to make you scream again.” He laughed as he got out and retrieved his trousers from the bank. Once they were on and secured, he was at least half decent. “I live in Covent Garden, so not too far away.” He pulled his shirt over his head, glad to at least start warming up a little now he was dressed. “What about you? Do you live nearby?”

She was enjoying herself now, actually letting out a cackle. “You must believe I have such a delicate temperament to think that anything else under the water would make me scream. I’m sure I’ve seen scarier.” She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, basking in the sliver of sun that the London smog afforded them in the mornings before all the hustle and bustle started. “Yeah, I live not too far away.” She spun around once she was sure he was fully dressed. “I supposed the only appropriate thing to do now is for you to accompany me on my walk, Mr. Pierce. I’ve got to have a full story to tell my sisters when I get home. Do you like Covent Garden, I hear an interesting sort of women resides there. ”

“no praise deserved, trust me.” winifred sighed with a shake of her head, the girl not having even known half of it. winifred had had her fair share of heinous acts; she was no stranger to selling her harlots off for the right price to the wrong buyer, and often made sure that they weren’t financially well off enough to leave her - perhaps she depended on their company as much as she did the coin they brought in. “i would practice caution. being a woman does not provide a valid excuse for acting like an animal. your sex does not equate your ability to hurt people.” winifred offered as she glanced at the younger woman, still not having had her name, but not entirely concerned with getting it. she was sure they would see each other countless amounts of time, anyway. winnie chuckled at rebecca’s toast with a small nod and shrug, clinking glasses together. “we’re already there. and they serve alcohol. so it isn’t all bad.” winifred offered casually, finishing off the drink before asking for a refill. 

“I’ve had my fair share of devilish women in life. Women are like roses, you know? We’re very beautiful, we invite you in, but our thorns will surely draw blood if you go too far.” Her years of being a harlot taught her that well enough.  “Well look at me, rubbing elbows and clinking glasses with the bawd of another house. “ Rebecca continued to gingerly sip at her beverage, finally growing used to the taste. “Y’know, this life has a way of hardening women. Sometimes I got to market and I see other girls - and you can almost always tell who’s a harlot from who isn’t, regardless of all the finery and powder used to mask it -  from different bawdy houses and you would think my simple ‘hello’ was damning their quim or something. But I supposed you understand that, they say it’s lonely at the top.” 

“i’m sure they’re very grateful,” winifred snorted lightly with a shake of her head, bringing her glass to her lips once more. she noticed the way the young blonde seemed to pull away from the taste of her own drink and chuckled with a hum, nails tapping against the glass. “they hate me for many reasons, but not bedding them is probably one of the only reasons they do not.” winifred had heard of many bawds and pimps that would use their own harlots to their advantage - it had happened to winnie when she was young, too - and she was not in the business of doing that. kind of delightful. she didn’t receive that too often, and with good reason, but the bawd couldn’t help but feel something inside her grow warm at the words. “when you’ve bedded devils, it’s fair to say a bit of them sticks with you.” the bawd replied quietly, mostly to herself. the woman’s question was unexpected; she didn’t speak of it often. “nobody gets to skip the unpleasantness.”

“I would praise you for not taking advantage of the girls but you still kind of are so....at least you’re forcing them to bed others instead of just yourself.” She had spent plenty of years wondering if there were any good people in this life and she had finally come to the terms that there were not - not even her. But if they all had the choice of more decent lives, she was sure every single one of them would’ve picked it. “Well that’s the god honest truth, isn’t it. ‘tis why I chose not to bed men.” Sure, powerful women could be just as demonic, but it was always a safer bet this way. Women were devils in different ways than men, and Rebecca would take her chances with the former rather than the latter. For now, though, her culls were kind enough and treated her like a flower: she was still theirs to wholly consume, but at least she admired her first. It seemed like the simple way of life for Harlots to turn into bawds one way or another, but not all were successful. She didn’t know why she felt a pang of guilt for asking if Winifred had been a whore herself, but she felt it. Rebecca sighed and raised her glass to the bawd. “Well, Miss. Harley, cheers to making the unpleasantness liveable and making a life for yourself regardless of whether or not it’ll send us to hell.” 

winifred thought on that, moving some of the ice around in her drink with a swirl. “well aren’t you cheeky?” the blonde asked with slight amusement, though winifred could see why the woman spoke highly of herself - she was beautiful, put together, respectful, despite never having actually fallen into bed with her. it seemed to strange a thought in her head, maybe she was too young, but winifred shook away the idea of it every time. the question made the blonde laugh in a manner that almost wasn’t winnie. “i don’t play favorites,” she replied in her own cheeky tone, not to mention that as far as she knew, her harlots did not fall in that spectrum of possible lovers. “and i’m too old to play with dolls.”

“It’s how I keep my ladies interested.” Rebecca took a sip of her cider and, unfortunately, grimaced as she swallowed. Her mother was a pious woman and Rebecca hadn’t been exposed to alcohol until she became a harlot. Even then, drinking was a rarity. If culls wanted a drunk, they’d go to Russell street. “Boy, those girls must hate you. Won’t even give them the chance to be your favorite? All of my culls are my favorites, women love the sport.” Rebecca laughed, never expecting to have a conversation like this with anyone with Golden Square - let alone such an infamous bawd. “Well good thing the girls are Covent Garden aren’t dolls, right?” Rebecca was far from it, but she longed to be one. Covent Garden was nice enough, and she was well taken care of, but she could only imagine the kind of culls she’d get if she moved up in the world. Whether or not those culls would be women was the problem that kept her from striving for more. She made a good name for herself, at least. “You know, some people say that you’ve got a wee bit of devil in you, but you’re actually kind of delightful. Were you a harlot yourself in life or just got lucky to skip all the unpleasantness?”

“My dear, you entice people in with your face alone. A beauty like yours doesn’t need delicate and revealing gowns to draw in the culls.” She approached the dress with her shears and started to make careful cuts to trim off the excesses of lace. She had developed skill as a seamstress after her parents had died and her brother saw fit to squander their fortune on drink and dice. It hadn’t been a time where she wanted to spend the little money she could keep away from her brother on the latest fashions, so she had to modify some of her current dresses. But no, she had to put her past out of her head - it would only make her angry and a slip of the shears could ruin this dress. “I must admit though, a dress as ostentatious as this could distract the eye from your face.” She continued her snipping, idly tossing the scraps over her shoulder. She could probably craft something with it later. “No, it’s been a quiet evening for me. Perhaps I am losing my touch.”

Despite the compliment, Rebecca huffed and threw herself onto the bed beside the dress. “If I weren’t a harlot, I’d probably be married to some merchant or trader and have a child or two or five by now. Time is catching up to me,; you may think I don’t need pretty dresses but I know I do.” She idly watched Charlotte cut the lace off her dress. Rebecca could sew a hem or two but if she took on the project that Charlotte was dealing with, she’d certainly ruin it all. “It may be hard on your pockets to not be busy but at least it’s easy on your quim. I can think of a dozen other reasons for culls not being here before I even consider that you’re losing your touch. Perhaps they’ve finally decided to love their wives, or become clergy, or have died.”

“My sincerest apologies. I did not realise I was so terrifying that it risked death for those who came upon me.” Seb laughed and slicked his wet hair back. “For what it’s worth, I would recommend coming here in the morning. I usually take a quiet swim here to wake me up, so perhaps you’d be best coming along later so I don’t scare you half to death.” He’d take comparisons to Venus as a compliment, although he feared he looked more like some dreaded swamp creature prowling in the cold waters and reeds of the brook. “Seb Pierce, by the way, if introductions aren’t too odd in the circumstances.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She placed her hands on her hips and turned her back to him. “The circumstances are very odd but... it’s a pleasure nonetheless. I’m Rebecca. The water’s cold now, get on out. I’m not peeking.” If she carried herself like a lady who cared for such modesty, then she’d likely be treated like one. She learned that when navigating the markets on her own. If she looked nice, talked nice, and make sure she was as demure as possible, then she could get away with a lot. So she’d afford the stranger with the kind of modesty that hadn’t been afforded to her in years. “If you’re here every morning, you live nearby then?”

Celestine tilts her head, soft black curls brushing against the fine silk shawl wrapped loosely against her shoulders, as dark eyes study the woman’s face. The bawd knew of this girl by description and reputation alone — a talent, the rumours claimed — and thought, undoubtedly, that her culls must call her angel, goddess, sweet thing. With a smile, she flips the first three cards. “We begin with The Empress. I take it…a seedling of an idea has taken hold of you. It comes from a place of intuition and excitement for knowledge. Next, the Fool and the Star. These cards tell me that you’ve arrived at an unpredictable new situation, brought on by your searching, your ideas. Perhaps you’ll look to a power other than yourself — a north star of sorts — to see it through, to assist your quest for knowledge.” She flips the third card. “Ah, Temperance. You thirst for a knowledge you don’t yet possess, but feel quite compelled to find. Temperance succeeding the Star often signifies a life spent in the public eye, or interacting with those in high places. Perhaps this is where your teacher will come from. And lastly,” Celestine flips the card on the far right of the table, “The Devil in reverse. One should never fear the Devil card, despite the obvious connotations. This card, to me, suggests that the knowledge you seek is of a darker variety. Something which cannot be known until it is expressed or experienced, and until then will remain a forbidden desire deep in your soul.” She affixes her gaze on the woman once more and asks, “Does any of this ring true for you, sweetling?”

It took almost all the composure she could muster to not fall in love right there at the table. She watched the cards eagerly and took in anything the bawd told her. She wanted to know more, it was like the other had a view into her mind. “Why do the men like being hurt?” she blurted out, fully believing that Celestine was speaking to the thoughts that were on Rebecca’s mind when she entered. “Your cards.....I’ve always wondered how places like this work. I understand why men may come here to dominate women - they are fickle creatures that often need to hurt another to feel better about themselves - but why would a man come here to be dominated? Why don’t they have you arrested?” There were a million questions and Rebecca did not try hard enough to seem coy. She was fully interested and didn’t mind surrendering her night’s wages to learn more. “I apologize if I’m asking too many questions. But you said the Devil card is telling you that I won’t know until I express myself; so I’m expressing myself.”

winifred looked at the other at the nickname, and her blood ran cold for just a moment at the notion that this woman understood who she was, and where she often frequented. but she settled a moment later she recognized the face - she’d never stopped to really have a conversation with her - from the dark corners of the molly house, swallowing. winifred chuckled lowly at her words, shaking her head as she took a drink. “makes me love myself more.” she answered with a settling of her glass on the counter top, motioning to the alcohol. “your keeper lets you out late. shouldn’t you be working?” she mused with a hum, fingers tapping against the bar.

Rebecca tilted her head, giving consideration to Winifred’s response. “Fair enough.” Her cider arrived shortly after and Rebecca provided a coin from inside her dress and slid it across the table. “Most of my culls have husbands, ma’am, and aren’t afforded the luxury of being able to leave inconspicuously at such an hour. Women pay highly to be one of the select few that get taken care of. ” All of her regulars came earlier in the evening, the only time she’d ever be with someone at this hour was if they strolled in on a whim with the hopes of late-night debauchery. “Not that my keeper is ungrateful for your business, and I certainly don’t speak on behalf of the whole establishment, but why do you come on over to Covent Garden when you’ve got all your pretty porcelain dolls in your own house? Surely one of them would be grateful enough to be considered your favorite if she serviced you.”

The false smile soon turned genuine as Rebecca barged her way into her room. Their houses were technically rivals but Charlotte read little into such competition. She needed friends in this world, not enemies. “You always startle me.” Rebecca had blown into her room like a cheerful whirlwind and Charlotte kicked the door shut behind her so no passing culls would think it their lucky day. Charlotte laughed and went to look at her friend’s latest purchase now sprawled across her bed. “It looks like a blancmange.” Tutting away, Charlotte moved over to her dresser and retrieved a pair of sewing scissors from the top drawer. “I can cut away some of those frills and try to tone it down if you like.”

Rebecca watched the dress on the bed with contempt and looked back at Charlotte. “I wanted to entice women with my youth, not look like their daughters for the love of Christ.” The idea of even looking silly enough to be compared to a pastry made Rebecca go pale. Money was not hard to come by these days but the thought of the dress going to waste made her sad. Rebecca placed her hands on her hips and fought the pout that was trying to break its way onto her face. “You can fix it? Please fix it.” She dramatically turned away from the dress, not even wanting to look at it any further. “No culls tonight?”

Seb hadn’t expected the shrill scream that practically ruptured his eardrums as he surfaced, and for a brief moment he wondered if too much water had gotten into his ears and he was hearing things. But then the yelling began and he turned, startled and surprised to have wreaked such havoc by taking a morning swim. “I’m sorry!” He was genuinely apologetic, but the look on her face made him chuckle and he couldn’t suppress the laughter when it started. “Truly, I am sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here.”

Rebecca was even trying to stifle a laugh as she spoke, the initial fright finally subsiding. “You do not get to laugh at me. The good lord could’ve easily taken my soul with the scare you gave me.” What did she imagine was rising out of the water that made her scream in such a way? Probably the devil coming to take her for the life she lived. She feigned throwing her shoe into the water at him, but it remained in her hand - pretty shoes were not easily replaceable. “Here I was just thinking to myself that maybe the walk here is worth it for some peace of mind, and that I could do this every morning if I had the chance, and you come along rising out of the water like the birth of venus. What a way to start my day.”