<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/a16483c2858f862945634d46b9ad41b9/tumblr_mh480oybdg1r64urio1_500.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Jaelyn Scot-Jones<br/><br/><strong>Faction:</strong>()<br/><br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 9th, 1876<br/><br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>early morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>inside her home (attached to Jones' Mercantile & Trade)<br/><br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>NPC Albert, closed<br/><br/><hr/>Her daddy?  Well, yes, he would have known these children.  Was he drawn to them?  Did they stand in for the daughter he left behind?  Her nose crinkled with a wave of petty thoughts.  A flash really; it wasn’t their fault, this ragged bunch of children.  Hadn’t she had her own bunch of waywards in Lost Angels?<br/><br/>She stood observing them for a moment, a hand resting on the door frame as several new children joined the group only to have several others take off at a trot.  What was this bit of strange behavior?  There was a jogged memory of recent conversation…  yes, there was the answer.  Gomorra’s own local little post n’ parcel.  “hmmmm…” she mused.<br/><br/>“Please, tell your friend, when he returns, I want to speak with him.”<br/><br/>“Shore, iffin the werewolfs don’t get ‘im first.”  This followed by chuckles of bravado from the elders of the tribe and wide eyed concern from the youngest.<br/><br/>“The wah…. ?“  Incredulity shifted to her right as a voice piped in, its owner’s face framed between the top of two battered pickets.  The peeping tom had returned.<br/><br/>“Yooz can tell me yerself, Missus Jones.”  He offered, adding bravely, “Aint no mangy wolf gonna get a drop on me, not even on m’ werst day.”  Jaelyn could say nothing, just stood blinking, mouth agape.  An expression only exaggerated further by the following, “Ya awl ways wear yer sleepin drawers fer public?”<br/><br/>She gasped, the moment akin to getting hit with a bucket of cold water.  Taking a quick look down at her current attire, she duly noted the high hem, the skin showing from toes curled in a sudden seizure of shock to above the daintily made ankles.  So speechless, all that escaped her lips was a strange, tiny squeak.  Then thick door was slammed shut, leaving her to fall back against it, completely mortified.<br/><br/>Jae’s mind scrambled in a stunned slowness.  It was early morning, true, but the world came alive before the sun ever rose in towns like Gomorra.  Her attention had been on the children, and not those moving in the street.<em> Good Lord!</em>Such flagrant indiscretion was not like her; maybe when she was yet a child herself, but not in many years, not since time spent at The Cathedral.  The shame of it slapped patches of red color high on her otherwise pale cheeks.<em>Dear Lord, what a way to start the day.</em><br/><br/>A noise brought her attention back to the side window and the small face returned there.  “You!”  This time when she moved, the boy didn’t scare off, so when she managed to lift the window, he was there still.  And not exactly alone, she could see now.  His partner in crime, if not older, was at least bigger.  The raised bottom floor of the building, allowing for a basement half sunk in the ground, required the assistant - on whose shoulders the young miscreant kneeled - in order to be tall enough for peeping.  Before clear thought and sanity returned, Jae grabbed two fists full of imp shirt and hauled him in through the window.  It was clear when his fellow turned tail, as the boy yelled and kicked his feet in delayed protest.  After scrambling to find his feet on this side of the glass, she pointed to a chair tucked under the dining table.  “SIT!”<br/><br/>She waited, arms akimbo, while from under a mess of filthy, matted curls he gave her a measuring look.  Finally coming to some decision, he pulled out the offered chair, but before his bottom was settled on the smooth wood, he started.  “Like m’fellers said, Missus Jones, din’t mean no harm.”<br/><br/>Her blue eyes narrowed at him.  “It’s Miss.  Miss Scot-Jones.  And peeking in windows is a crime.”<br/><br/>He laughed, shaking his head, “There be werse things than bein’ nosey, Missus.  eerr Miss.”  Turning serious again, his eyes took in her current attire.  “We all jus’ wanted to know if’in you was crazy like that Whateley woman.”<br/><br/>“Who?”  Whateley was not a name she easily recognized, though with limited local knowledge that wasn’t a surprise.  So she was left vaguely confused.  “No!  What…  ?”  This child was pushing buttons she didn’t know existed.  “You just stay there.”  She said in a huff before going to the kitchen to retrieve the chemise that was hand washed the night before and hung near the stove to dry.  She’d also spent a good part of the previous evening mending the old, tattered dress, which she would have to wear today, saving the borrowed black for the next day’s trial by fire.  “Try not to steal anything.”  She tossed harshly on her way up the stairs.<br/><br/>Albert had never been so insulted.  Well maybe he had, but he wasn’t aware of it at the time, so it didn't count.  Now though, his pride was pricked, spurring a bit of self defense.  “No ‘Snapper werth their salt theeves!”  He shouted after her.  Did she think he had a death wish?  Realizing the double edge to the insult he added petulantly, “‘Sides, i’s don’t steal from frenz, and Mr Thommy was a goodun!”<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Jae dressed quickly, with no corset - or need of one - it was easy enough.  She was sure it wasn’t wise to leave the boy alone to wander, even after hearing his defensive retort.  His continued grumbling, the childish voice full of outrage told her he hadn’t moved from the dining room.<em>What in the world have i done coming here?</em>Emotionally exhausted and suddenly feeling lonely she sat on the edge of the just made bed.  Cleanliness, neatness, these were virtues easily understood, besides the action delayed her having to face the boy who had been such an obvious part of the last years of her father’s life.<br/><br/>If she thought there were no more tears, she was wrong.  They were silent at first, though eventually the soft sobs drew her company up the stairs, his outrage forgotten in the face of her sadness.  “Sorry, Miss.  Din’t mean to make ya cry like that.”<br/><br/>Drawing the back of her hand across her sniffle wet nose, Jaelyn couldn’t stir up much of her previous indignation.  “It’s not your fault…  Albert, is it?”  She looked at him then down to the ring helf in her fingers; she didn’t remember picking it up from top of the small chest of drawers.<br/><br/>“Yeah, Albert.”  He blinked and swallowed before stepping closer.  “Wish i could make ya feel better.”  She nodded in agreement, a tight smile valiantly fighting another rush of tears.  “Mr Thommy told us how you awl ways made him feel better.  When you was liddle like me, i mean.”<br/><br/>Head tipped, she was just a little curious now.  “Really?”  He nodded.<br/><br/>“Uh huh.  Said yood crawl up on his lap n’ pet his face n’ he’d feel better.”<br/><br/>“Huh.  Imagine that.”  Jae’s eyes lit warmly with the memory.  When he came home weary from a hard day’s labor or bruised and battered from some gambling debt beat down, she would climb onto his lap, her little hands drawing his face down to hers until they were nose to nose, forehead to forehead, and wish him all better.  After some seconds pause, Thommy would laugh heartily as he sprang up with Jae in hand to claim a full recovery.  His strong, safe arms would lift her high over head while praising his little angel's healing powers.  The miniature Jaelyn would squeal and giggle in delight as Renae looked on, shaking her head, a tender smile curving her mouth.  So long ago...<br/><br/>Her reverie drew to a close as the boy came closer yet, lifting his grubby little hands to her face.  Jae hadn’t the heart to stop him with an expression so earnest, so ignored the mix of grit and sticky sweat on his palms as well as the odor of his unwashed clothes and body.  Instead she leaned forward until their foreheads met and waited as heart beats passed.<br/><br/>“Ya feelin better now, Miss?  I be hopin’ real hard.”<br/><br/>She smiled then, nodding as the taste of her tears turned from bitter to sweet, and fell - just a little bit - in love.