Vanessa is out alone; she shouldn't be, of course. There are dark things that want her--always, lurking, wanting to make her something she has no desire to be. Others are drawn to her, always, the darkness in the hearts of men that curl and reach out to her, beckoning them closer.

She should be with Sembene. She should have that protection, at least, if she has not chosen to bother Mr. Chandler or Sir Malcolm with this.

But she is not.

She is alone, and walking through the streets of Whitechapel, glove-less fingers brushing along things here and there, seeking out whatever has drawn her out. She has felt the thrall, the call of something in the Demimonde...


...so when she sees the pale young man, looking like an injured bird, she can't help but step a bit closer.

"Some predators like to appear wounded to their prey...it draws them in, so they can strike more easily."

She can see the gold, the glowing.

"Are you truly injured? Or are you meaning on drawing people in."