undergrounds | Everyday Goings On

A City Aglow

The Thames, as a river, is absolutely horrible. Completely filthy. But, standing at the rail of the bridge and taking in the sights, it makes London look beautiful.

He can remember the last time it froze over completely. The way he'd laughed at seeing the elephant led across it to prove how solid it was.

Just under his feet, there are grey slate slabs. He has them memorised.

"There you may print your name, tho cannot write
Cause num'd with cold: tis done with great delight
And lay it by that ages yet to come
May see what things upon the ice were done."

He remembers the gas lamps that gave way to electric lamps that became the lights lining the streets.

The city is far more ancient than he, and that is a welcome feeling. Many things are fleeting, but--

"London endures."

Time to Kill

"Fine," Henry says in his office at the Redbright Institute, seemingly unconcerned that his office door is open. "You have your uses. Are you happy now?"

His conversation partner?

His computer.

He has the Metro open in a window on his browser. Not that a computer can ever replace a newspaper, not really, but it is helpful in that he can keep up to date with New York and certain police investigations.

For a moment, his hand hovers over his office phone before he withdraws it.

It's not worth it.

A Familiar Face -- open to Guardians and/or ghosts
cw: talk of suicide

'I know you.'

Her voice is as soft as he expected. She's young, just a slip of a girl. Not even sixteen. Her dark hair complements her former complexion as she sits on his examination table beside her own body.

By now, Henry Morgan is no stranger to ghosts.

"Hello, my dear." After death, there was little reason to stand on ceremony, and she looked so fragile. "I knew I'd be seeing you soon."

It hadn't even been on purpose, that day on the Tube. He'd been waiting for his train when he'd noticed something off. Before he could even think about it, he'd taken the girl's arm and tugged her back before she could overbalance and fall off the platform.

When she'd looked at him with pain and despair, he'd realised she'd meant to fall.

They always found another way, if they were determined.

'You weren't supposed to.'

"Because everything ends after death?"

'Because I didn't want to die anymore.'

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Not at all," he replies, smiling as he leans back in his chair and motions her in.

"Please. Come in. Have a seat."

Then, with a smile. "Do you like tea? I've only got a hot plate for the office, but it does the job with the kettle."

Alice's eyes dart up at him and then to the chair; if he's not yelling at his computer anymore, Alice will take this as a sign that her presence is welcomed. Clutching her bag, she scurries in with her head low, almost ashamed before she slowly takes a seat. Her eyes dart back to the door, and then back to him,

"Tea is fine," Alice brushes some of her hair behind hear ears. She doesn't speak much and she's aware that is starting to become a little awkward when others speak to her, "I haven't had it in a while." She tries, for the sake of trying to converse with another, only to find herself worried she sounds ridiculous.

"Wonderful. I'll put some water on." A good black tea would do. He had cream and sugar for her to flavour it to her liking. While the kettle sits on the hot plate, he opens a tin of tea and scoops a bit into each of two steepers, which he hangs into two cups. Nothing to do with them until the water heats up.

"How have you been doing? Have they given you a schedule yet? Might be a good time to go through the school and figure out where your classes are before term starts."

How she was personally doing she kept to herself. Sleepless nights were common and she hadn't consulted her doctor about her medication or her trouble sleeping. They would likely up her dosage and it was already bad enough she was having a hard time getting out of her temporary housing. She watches with a solemn expression on her face.

It was her exhaustion, more than anything. Quietly, she stirs her tea, but doesn't take any sweeteners to it. She doesn't have the heart to tell him she likes it plane.

"Thank you," She adds meekly. Splaying her hands on the surface of her desk, she nods.

"I have a schedule, yes -- though, just a few classes," Alice figured not to push her limits, "I, ah- well. I've been gone a while."

She also didn't want to tell him she had been institutionalized for ten years. A few younger kids in the building had caught wind of it and have already started teasing her.

"Well, know that my door is always open as long as I'm in the Institute." He might make a poor teacher, but he had enough experience just dealing with kids that he felt he could make that offer. After all, if he wasn't trying to conduct lessons, they didn't aggravate him nearly as much. And, even then, it wasn't the quiet ones who needed help that irritated him. It was the ones who were too full of themselves.

"I do have other obligations outside of the Institute, but, if I'm in, I am available to all of the students."

Little things, really, but they were what he could offer. And, sometimes, they helped quite a bit. A man, for instance, taking time out of his day to teach a young boy he barely knew how to play jazz.

For that brief moment, Alice felt like a burden and that she was wasting time of such a busy and important man. A welt of guilt formed in her chest as usual, making it difficult to breathe. The only solution was to drink that cup to see if it soothe that pain.

It did, somewhat. She could use the help, some sense of direction; at least in the hospital, there was someone always breathing down her neck every fifteen minutes to stir her in the right direction. She swallowed, gazing back up at him, "Then, you must know plenty about vampires."

She can't help it, she blurts it out. The whole purpose of her arrival back to London and here was to learn more about them, so that she could find the man who had killed her family.

"I know a little." It's hard to say. The girl obviously has questions. Still, what he can't answer, he might be able to provide her resources to discover. "Though, I admit, I only learned there were other supernatural creatures about two years ago myself. And that there were things other than metahumans--" at least one other like him "--a year ago."

He couldn't promise her results. He wanted to be sure that was clear.

"But what I can't answer, I nay know who to advise you to see."

Alice had entered in the Institute rather timidly; she appeared shy to most, she shrunk away from conversations and others. She rarely lifted her eyes to meet the gaze of others. Others had commented how she appeared to be so frightened around others.

But that was hardly the case with Alice Liddell, who seemed to fit the part of the delicate, former mental patient from London. She nodded quietly and believed what he said. She was surprised that he had so little exposure to vampires and other races. Alice was swinging her feet in the chair and sipping the tea rather calmly, until she spoke up and her demeanor was starting to take a slight shift from the timid girl that she was.

"I don't need to see anyone," She would refuse, she wanted to handle it on her own terms, if at all possible, "Do they exist here or not?"

Everyday Goings On

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