#c:rahat

[billxbarker]

Closed Starter for : @theundertakcr​ Location: The Parlour

Bill’s eyes narrow at Rahat. 

The two of them managed, quite civilly, to maintain a facade of politeness, though Bill is not fooled for one minute, and does not believe that Rahat is, either. They do not say anything, they do not act upon it, but they do not like one another, and that’s all there is to it. The two are far better off when they stay far away from each other. 

But then, Mr. Ashton invites them to the same blasted party, and the whole thing is ruined. 

Bill takes a puff of his cigar, and deliberately exhales the smoke directly in Rahat’s face. With one hand, he makes a swooping gesture, motioning to his costume. 

“It’s not bad, that’s not what I’m saying.” He begins. “It’s just all a bit literally, ain’t it? I mean, Charon. Ferryman of the dead. Have a day off, Ra.” He laughs at his own joke, and the purposeful shortening of Rahat’s name. “Or do you just love playing with dead things so much that you can’t?”

Bill raises the cigar to his lips again. Inhale. Exhale. 

“I certainly hope you didn’t pay much for it, anyway. I’m not sure where you found it, but I’ve definitely seen better. Mind you, we all do what we can on a budget. I borrowed mine from The Theatre. Seems frivolous, wasting the amount of money most spend on rent in six months.” 

[pollysheedy]

Closed starter for @theundertakcr Location : The Streetz of Whitechapel  Timestamp : Tuesday, 15th of January, late night

Polly had half expected Rahat to turn them away when they had darted the short distance from their own front door to the undertakers, but to their credit, when Polly asked them, they agreed. Perhaps they could see the desperation in their eyes,,  burning need to stretch their legs. Perhaps they could see their fear at the thought of doing so alone. 

They pass a derelict building, the windows covered with rotting wooden boards, and Poly affords it a quick glance. “I used to sleep in there sometimes. When I was little.” Littler. They are talking about their childhood now, a time before even Lucian had a place in their life. “There was a woman who used to look after me a little bit, until I was about five or something. We used to stay here until the police started coming down.” And then, Polly had gotten too old to be of use. Women with children always made more money when it came to begging, and Polly could not stay an infant forever. 

“I want to show you something,” they declare, suddenly, one hand closing around Rahat’s wrist and giving it a slight tug. “Down by the docks. My favourite place to go. Would you like to see?” 

[dayanitas]

Closed Starter for : @theundertakcr​ Location : Daya’s Dining Room  Timestamp : Wednesday, October 10th, Evening 

“You look terrible,” Daya announced, matter-of-factly. There was no cushioning to soften the harsh effect of their words. Rahat did look bad, especially next to Dayanita, swathed in clothes of sky blue, arms and neck glittering with jewels, obviously having made an effort to look her level best. “If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have changed out of my nightgown and slippers, yet here I am trying to make a good impression,” she tutted and rolled her eyes, and it was suddenly clear that she was completely joking. 

They didn’t look their best, though. Worn out, older somehow. She could ask if they were all right, ask if they wanted to talk, offer her unconditional support, but Dayanita didn’t. There were times, more times than Rahat knew, when the distraction provided by their presence had been enough to pull Daya from their darkest days. That was what she was going to do now. That was all she knew how to do. 

“Well, seeing as you didn’t dress up for me, I hope you brought your appetite.” With that, she rose to her feet, gesturing for Rahat to get up and follow her. “I’ve been slaving away all afternoon. Pearl helped. Come on, you can help me carry everything in.” 

[pollysheedyarchived]

Closed Starter for: @theundertakcr​​​​  Location: The Britannia Pub Time Stamp: Early Evening, Saturday, September 7th, 1888

There was a strange sense of ease that came from Rahat’s presence. Though Polly could not deny that they unnerved them, that something was undeniably off about them, they couldn’t say that they didn’t enjoy their company, nor that he wasn’t welcome. There had been times before where they had found them in a state of peril, and provided comfort and safety, and perhaps this, too, could be one of those times. No matter how much they told themself things were fine, that they had a roof over their head and a place to rest for the night, they couldn’t help but feel like being locked up like this was making their skin itch. 

“Will the shop be okay without you for the night?” They asked, gently. Whitechapel wasn’t the most law abiding of areas, and leaving any establishment for an extended period of time was never wise. At least the streets were crawling with the police, they supposed, though they were hardly on the lookout for burglars and the like. “I suppose all the reprobates are locked here with us, though. It’ll probably be fine.” 

[pollysheedy]

for : @theundertakcr​ location : near whitechapel road time : 2am

It wasn’t out of the norm for Polly to wander by themself. It was in their nature to roam, and the more confined they felt, the more they rebelled against it. No matter how many people uttered warnings to them, they just couldn’t find it in them to obey. 

They wished they had listened now, though. They would give anything to be at Cora’s place, which was, at the very least, a safe one. But they still had their pride, and though they were terrified, a small amount of courage in their stomach. Now wasn’t the time to hide whilst others did the hard work. That wasn’t their way. 

They followed where their feet took them, absently, gazing nervously down each street before committing to walking down it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find themself at Rahat’s door first. The undertaker was a strange source of comfort - but to Polly, they were comfort all the same. 

They weren’t home, though, and so, Polly continued to wander, ignoring the slight desperation gnawing at their gut. That is, until they finally clapped eyes on them. Flooded with relief, they darted to their friend’s side. 

“I was looking for you,” they spoke quietly. “Went by the shop, but you had already left. They really are dragging everyone into this, aren’t they?” 

[pollysheedy]

Closed Starter for @theundertakcr​ Location : Rahat’s home  Time stamp: Post-Seance, the small hours of Sunday morning, September 30th 1888

Rahat had made the decision that Polly was to stay with them, but Polly hadn’t objected. The night had already seemed long enough, and they certainly were not ready to spend any amount of time alone. They couldn’t get the image of the poor woman they had seen in Mitre Square out of their head, and since what happened in Muiris Doyle’s parlour, they hadn’t been able to stop shaking. 

It wasn’t so much what had happened with the glass. Rahat had shielded them from the worst of it. But the scream that accompanied the shattering had burned itself into their brain. 

After a cursory check over of both Polly and Rahat (they had told the undertaker that they were fine, but Rahat had still insisted Polly be looked at first, despite obtaining injuries far worse than theirs), they had come back here, to Rahat’s home. to finally rest. 

“You know the floor is fine,” Polly stood by the edge of the bed, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other. Every slight noise, a voice from the street outside, the howling of the wind, made them jump and look over their shoulder, as though expecting something to be hovering behind them. They had never in their life been this shaken, an they doubted sleep would come to them anyway. 

“I’ve slept in worse places before, you know. I don’t need the bed to be comfortable.” They knew Rahat knew the truth of their words. They had even slept in worse places in his own property, having spent more than one night bunking down amongst the coffins in the past. “So the floor is fine. I’d go downstairs, but...” they paused, lips pursing and brow furrowing. The truth was, they didn’t want to be on their ow. Not yet, at least. They shook their head. “No.”

[pollysheedy]

Closed Starter for : @theundertakcr​ Location: The Ballroom 

“There you are!”

Polly has been looking for Rahat since they arrived, but with the crowd of impeccably-dressed party goers, the music, the dancing, and the opportunity to explore the largest home they had ever been in, they had been distracted. But now they have spotted them, and there seems nothing more important than enjoying the night together.

So Polly bounds over, face flushed in their excitement. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but when they take in Rahat’s appearance, and note the outfit they had created together, that Polly had spent hours ensuring was absolutely perfect, has indeed been worn for the festivities tonight, their expression breaks into one of complete joy. 

“And you wore the outfit!” they exclaim, noting with pride how well it looks on Rahat. “I didn’t think - well, it doesn’t matter. It looks great.” They nod, as though that settles that. “Have you danced yet?” They feel like they could guess the answer with a high degree of certainty, but they ask the question anyway. “I want to, but I don’t know any of the steps. Everyone else seems to.”

[pollysheedy]

Closed Starter for : @theundertakcr Location : The flat above Rahat’s Shop  Timestamp : The same day Rahat went to collect Polly’s Things, but later that day

When Polly had spoken to Cora about leaving, they hadn’t been ready to empty their old room of their things. In truth, everything about that place, where one they had found a sense of comfort and protection, no matter how stifling, made their skin crawl. Whatever security they had felt there had been destroyed by The Ripper, and the sooner they found a new home, a new place to rest their head, the better. 

But Rahat had stepped up to the plate, as they always did for Polly, on top of everything else they had done for them. They owed them a debt of gratitude they could never truly repay, didn’t even know where to start. Polly didn’t like to rely on others, hated to accept help without offering something back. It seemed different with Rahat though - they made it okay to let somebody else take over for just a little while. 

“Thank you,” Polly’s few items of clothing, including the outfit she had made for Zoya, had been neatly put away, but their box, an old, battered thing with a rusty lock, full of little trinkets they had collected over the years, sat on the table between them. Polly slipped the key from around their neck, where it hung on a chain, and inserted it, turning it until the lid popped open with a click. 

Everything in it seemed in order, all her belongings, worthless as they might be to anybody but Polly, safe and untouched. Underneath them all sat a collection of papers, handed to Polly by Zoya for safekeeping. They didn’t know what they read, though they had long been curious. There was nobody they trusted to read it to them and still keep Zoya’s secrets to themself. 

Well, nobody but Rahat. 

“Can I ask you something?” Polly asked, suddenly. They slipped a random piece of paper out of the pile, a handwritten letter, it looked like, and shoved it unceremoniously in front of Rahat’s face. 

“What does this say?”