Heart pounding, Celeste whipped around, trying to grasp where she was. An alley, dark and narrow, with a foul-smelling drunk laying next to her. London, 18th century, said a voice inside her head. She had no idea how she knew that. What was going on?
Celeste felt dizzy. She looked down at herself--and nearly screamed. She was completely naked, her creamy white skin exposed. She shot a hasty glance at the drunk, but, thank God, he was asleep.
Taking a few deep breathes to calm herself, Celeste rose to her feet. The alley was filed with trash and rainwater;it wasn't pleasant, to say the least. But right now she had bigger things to worry about. First: she needed some clothes. The alley yielded nothing but rubbish--but wait. What was that? Over in the corner, nearly hidden, was a long, thick piece of cloth. It was blue, and covered with dirt and mud, but it would do.
Quietly, so as not to wake the drunk, Celeste took the cloth and got to work. After brushing off most of the dirt (the mud wasn't coming off;that was clear) she wrapped the top of the cloth around her chest, letting the rest fall to the ground. Now to secure it--but with what??? She could find nothing that would work in the dank alley; but again, the fates were on her side. For in the pocket of the drunk, half poking out, was a small clump of pins.
For a moment she hesitated, terrified to go anywhere near the disgusting man. His clothes were full of holes, and his teeth were yellow and broken. But finally, Celeste steeled herself enough to dart out her hand, snatch the pins, and whip her hand back. Through it all, the drunk slept on, his breathing slow and easy.
Thank the Lord, thought Celeste, her own breathing ragged. How was she going to live like this if something as trifling as this terrified her so much? But no, it was useless to think that way. Pushing away her panic and doubt, she got to work pinning her "dress."
There. Celeste had forgotten how wonderful clothes were, how frightening and unsteady you felt exposed. But there was still a problem: sleeves. She'd made her "dress" strapless--and she knew that 18th century London was not a place a woman was allowed to go out even slightly uncovered. What was she to do now??
Looking down, she realized that the dress was too long; fabric trailed along the ground. If I cut it off.... she thought. Yes, that might work. But what can I cut it with????
She knew it was foolish to discover a knife hidden somewhere in the alley; she'd have to figure this out on her own. Looking around, she spotted a long, sharp piece of glass; uneven and ragged, but sharp all the same. Celeste picked it up and, after sitting down again, proceeded to hack off the excess cloth.
It was slow going: the pins made the dress hard to move around in, and she had to bend all the way over in order to reach the bottom of the cloth. Finally, though, the extra cloth was gone, firmly clasped in her hand, the bottom of her dress ragged and uneven. She tossed away the glass and wrapped the cloth around her shoulders like a shawl. Satisfied, Celeste began working on her second problem: where could she go?
Anywhere that's not this alley, she decided. I'm not staying near that man for another minute. And with that, she began walking towards the light at the end of the alley, into civilization.
The sharp light blinded Celeste as she walked out. As her eyes adjusted, she drank in the sight before her:
A wide, bustling city street, crowded with people, children, animals. Tall buildings rose up around her, and wagons thundered along cobblestone streets. Vendors gathered everywhere, shouting out their wares.
It was incredible.
Quickly, Celeste began walking. She was relieved to see that, while she didn't exactly blend in, she didn't really stick out, either. A few people stared curiously, but she brushed them aside as she walked along.
Then- Celeste happened to swing her head towards a small shop. And, in the shop window, she saw... herself.
But... it couldn't be her, Celeste. Celeste didn't have hair so black and thick it resembled ravens' wings. Celeste didn't have eyes so dimly blue they were almost green. Celeste's skin wasn't white, white as the fallen snow. But this girl did.
Shock overcame her, and she forced herself to look away and keep walking. Thoughts whirled around in her head. What...What have i done?? What is going to happen to me? Her choice, her leaving from the world of Angels... it felt real now, permanent. She was the girl in the window now-- and she always would be.
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Sorry this took a while ^^; and sorry it's so long. I need to work on that.... :P
---KalySama 
