As the year unfolds | Sir Pentious x Gender Neutral reader
A story of two friends becoming closer.
Set in Victorian London between 1887-1888. Human, alive Sir Pentious x Gender Neutral reader. Reader's character is implied to be a prostitute but their profession is very open to interpretation. No depictions of prostitution is mention at all. Sir Pentious is known as Mr Pendleton throughout this series. Written in a semi-Victorian style
Chapter rating: Universal, general audience
Relationships: Sir Pentious x Gender Neutral reader
Chapter 1 - The singular gent
It were Spring when your eyes first marked him; a singular gent who, by all appearances, never quit what one might deem his place of labor. You caught sight of him whilst casting your gaze aloft to measure the rain clouds, a man with hair of raven hue. How curious, you mused, for a man to possess locks so lengthy, elegant, and unrestrained. His visage was comely, his nose strong, supporting spectacles of round frame which magnified keen, beseeching grey eyes. Fair to say, he was striking, and his presence lingered with you throughout the day. You knew not if his gaze had met yours.
It was often your habit to tred the street where his workshop stood in Whitechapel, a shortcut to a public house of passable gin and better folk. It were much like any slip or alley in London: partially cobbled pavements, scarcely illuminated come evening, and the occasional flimsy iron staircase ascending to establishments or residences above the ground floor. By daylight, and indeed, most nights, the alley possessed not the slightest air of villainy.
Not infrequently, you sought his form at the window, mostly to find him turned away. Whether he laboured, or something of a like nature, you could scarcely tell from the angle of observation. Yet today was different! His grey eyes remained fixed upon the very street you walked. You discovered yourself pausing, your heart aflutter for a gentleman to whom you had never exchanged a word nor made acquaintance. You possessed not an inkling of understanding as to why the necessity to impress him had seized you. That day, you would not trace your usual walk, you decided. Another day, when your clothes faired better.
Upon the next fair morning, you rose, not with unseemly haste, but around half-past ten o'clock. You had invisioned in your mind's eye you'd see this gentleman this day, and he, in turn, should behold you. Having waited an hour or thereabouts, knowing your patrons and the public house would be open, you donned your finer clothes, arranging yourself in a finer manner, and, deeming your appearance satisfactory, you sallied forth. Turning onto the alley with chin held high, and having assured yourself that your clothing was arranged in a manner befitting this male's gaze and that your countenance was in good order, you venture into his view. You did not cast your gaze upon his window with immediacy, however. You advanced with a confident stride, feigning exploration - a hard feat to produce as you knew the side street intimately. A young, unmarried person not dare not appear desperate, nor to solicit attention, or, heavens forbid, engage in espionage! Yet, when eyes first met, a light blush grace your cheeks.
The gentleman appeared quite taken aback to be spotted, his countenance owlish as he peered downwards, before he offered a cordial, close-mouthed smile and a delicate wave of the hand, which your promptly returned. With a heart a-thumping, you averted your gaze and proceed forthwith to the public house. A bracing draught of gin was assuredly deemed a necessity on that chilled spring morn.
In spring, London's parks would oft commence to bloom. The flowers awoke from their slumber, and avian creatures gradually returned. It was your favored season, as the weather grew warmer and the streets brighter when the clocks advanced.
As the days did went by, you kept a sharp lookout for the fellow. Sometimes you would see him, others not. Never did you set eyes upon him at the local public house, nor any other establishment in the local area. You did not see him at church that Easter, nor did the scent of hot-cross buns emanate from his workshop.
On those days when you did catch sight of one another from the window, a modest smile and wave wouldst be exchanged between you, but never anything else.
[Chapter Two - The Heat Of First Words]
