Chapter Text
Men's clothing made people treat one differently, even if the person wearing them was obviously a woman.
Not to say that people treated one better per say. To the contrary, Yasmin had found that most people she met tended to show her less respect, mistaking her sometimes for a more promiscuous woman.
In that vein, and rather unfortunately she might say, there was a particular type of freedom she could only find this way.
As a lady she had obligations; social calls with promising gentlemen. As a woman in men's clothes she was free to roam the streets at will, or make a stop at the occasional Downworlder bar for a drink or two - maybe even follow a stranger home.
It might be a riskier way to live for a young woman - she knew very well there were more sinister things than the occasional drunk man roaming the streets at night - but why, she reasoned, had she been trained from birth if she couldn't even kill a single demon? Deemed too young for patrol even at ten and seven, these nights were her only chance to prove her skills. Prove that she wasn't useless.
If only her family were there to see it- then again, it was probably better for her that they weren't.
She had hoped that tonight would give her an opportunity to see the demons of London - study the difference, or similarity - but the streets had been ominously quiet. In combination with the evening chill and a sudden downpour that had taken her by surprise, Yasmin had taken the first opportunity to flee inside the nearest Downworlder bar. A hastily applied rune proved effective against the cold, but there was unfortunately little she could do about her sodden clothes but let them dry naturally.
All in all, her first night of exploring London had turned out to be rather miserable.
At least the bartender, to all appearances a young woman - although one could never be too sure when it came to Downworlders - had been nice enough to lend her a smaller towel for drying her hair; the length and thickness of it made it all too cumbersome when wet.
She sighted. Only two days in London and she already missed Iran, which was relatively dryer and definitely the warmer of the two countries.
Fortunately the bartender didn’t take too long with her order, and the scalding hot liquid immediately made her feel a little bit better. Yasmin was already about to order her second round of spiced apple cider for the night, when there was a small tap on her shoulder followed closely by a young man's voice.
"Cordelia? What in the world happened to your hair? Did you dye it?"
Yasmin turned to see a young man standing behind her. His blond hair curled slightly around his face, stroking his pale cheeks. Her first thought was that he reminded her of a cherub - although the more handsome, adult version. The impression was so strong that she could only assume that he was of angelic blood; a Shadowhunter, like her.
He frowned at her, then a fraction later his eyes widened. A small spot of red spread across his cheeks.
"My... My apologies," he stammered, "I thought you were someone else."
He didn’t have to say who. Cordelia Carstairs. Of course he would think Yasmin was her.
She shifted nervously on her feet. She didn't want anyone, not her mother, and even less her brother or father to find out that she more than often spent her nights this way. They would not only be scandalised, but she had a feeling they would be very angry as well.
Yasmin pulled at the sleeve of her shirt. Maybe she should have opted to wear women's clothes for once. Would that have been less suspicious? Although the fact that she looked like Cordelia wasn't about to change no matter her choice of dress.
With a sudden regret that she never learned a rune for invisibility - if such a thing even existed - she forced herself to plaster what she hoped came across as a genuine smile on her face.
"An angel, perhaps? I have encountered numerous men trying to flirt with me tonight, but I must say your lines are the most unique so far." She threw in a wink for good measure and it seemed to have the intended effect. The red on his cheeks spread further up his delicate nose, but instead of scurrying away in embarrassment like she had hoped for, he took her by surprise as he threw a wink of his own.
"What can I say? My way with words is just one of my many talents. Care to find out about the others?"
Yasmin felt her heart stutter to a stop. Was he actually flirting with her?
"I- I would like to stay, but unfortunately I have places to be. I hope you understand."
By the angel, now she was the one stuttering.
It's not that Yasmin wasn’t used to men flirting with her. She was after all a woman in men's clothes with her hair unbound; it usually drew some sort of attention, even in Downworlder haunts like this one. Yet something about him made her blush and squirm. She wanted to blame it on the fact that she was so easily recognizable, but had a feeling it might have had more to do with the dazzling smile he was throwing her way. She knew she was on dangerous ground, so before she could even consider taking him up on any sort of offer, she turned to walk away.
"Wait!," he called after her.
Reluctantly she twisted her body to see him still standing there, one hand raised as if poised to grab her, and he quickly lowered it when he saw her watching him.
"I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, but I am honest when I say that I would like to talk to you more. If you don't mind, of course," he said, rather bashfully now.
Yasmin hesitated. She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. He's a Shadowhunters, no doubt about it - she could see the clairvoyance rune on his hand - and the shadowhunters were a small community. If he decided to tell someone about tonight, could she be sure that no word would reach her family of it?
Yasmin studied him in an attempt to buy some time. His delicately sculpted jaw, deep green eyes. How his blond curls fell like a crown around his head. He looked like one of those paintings in the Teheran Institute. The ones depicting angels.
She could see how he studied her in return, and that’s what helped her make up my mind.
He has already seen me, she reasoned. Even if she ran now, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't meet again or that he wouldn't recognize her. The least she could do now was to enjoy the rest of her evening.
"I could stay for one drink." Yasmin's mouth lifted at the corners." If you're offering to buy that is?"
"My lady," He said, and offered her his hand without a hint of hesitation, to escort her through the crowd.
As they reached the same counter Yasmin had ordered from before, he leaned on it with a casual familiarity, greeting the woman behind the bar by name. It was the air of someone who came here often.
"One glass of brandy for me, and-" he glanced at Yasmin.
"Cider, please."
"The best cider you have," he added with a smile.
The former meeting with the bartender had been hurried and frantic, with Yasmin looking more like a drenched cat than a human, and dripping water everywhere; this time the woman took her time to study Yasmin closer as she prepared the alcohol. "Is this the Carstairs girl? Didn't she have red hair?"
"Oh no, this is-" he turned to Yasmin with a frown, probably realising that he never asked for her name.
She thought about giving him a false name, but if he actually knew Cordelia then she had a feeling that he would find out the truth sooner rather than later. Instead she opted for a nickname. "Mina."
"It's uncanny," the bartender said, as they both stared at her. Finally, the woman placed their drinks in front of them and turned to the next customer seeking her attention.
"Your last name doesn't happen to be Carstairs, does it?" The angel boy asked her, apparently still stuck on their uncanny likeness.
Yasmin took a slow sip from her cider. She was tired of dodging questions about Cordelia. "It's rude to ask a lady for her name when you haven't even introduced yourself yet."
He actually had the gall to raise an eyebrow at her.
"I beg your pardon, my lady. Matthew, at your service.”
Matthew. A gift from god.
A fitting name for an angel.
She almost rolled her eyes at herself. Apparently her brain turned to mush at the attention of a handsome boy.
"So-," he gave Yasmin a once over, his eyes lingering for a moment on her neck. Despite her knowing that his eyes had stopped at the angelic run half-hidden beneath her shirt, she still felt herself blush from the sudden attention, "you are clearly a Shadowhunter, but I do think I would have remembered meeting you before. Did you arrive in London recently?"
Yasmin gasped, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. "I'm hurt Matthew, do you really not remember me? I would hate to think I'm that forgettable."
He paled, his eyes darting across my face. "No, no- of course, I just-"
She tried to bite her tongue, but still couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.
"You're teasing me," Matthew exclaimed suddenly, face indignant.
She laughed, unable to hold it back any longer. "You should have seen your face."
"Not very nice," Matthew muttered, before he lifted and downed the rest of the glass. For a moment she was afraid that she had offended him, but then she noticed the twitching at the corners of his lips.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Yasmin reached out to pat his shoulder. She could feel a small buzz coming on, making her body lighter, and her heart bolder.
She moved in closer, and he lifted his eyes to her and stared in wonder. He was clearly taken aback by her and the, most likely unwillingly, shown vulnerability made him an easy target. One that she couldn’t help but to take advantage of. Especially as curiosity about his relationship with Cordelia gnawed at her.
A playful smile danced across her lips, before she lowered her voice to whisper, "Do we really resemble each other that much?"
"What?" He whispered, his eyes automatically flickering down to her lips. If it was to watch her speak or admire them, Yasmin wasn’t sure.
"Me and this Carstairs girl?"
His eyes flickered up to meet Yasmin’s, and she could see a flicker of emotion, before he hurriedly turned his gaze away; after which he was almost too quick to order another glass of brandy.
That's when she knew. He didn't flirt with her or buy her a drink because he was actually interested in her. It wasn't even Yasmin that he had been seeing when he was looking at her - not really.
Always in Cordelia's shadow.
"You're in love with her," Yasmin said, and the way he flinched at her words was enough of an answer.
Her heart sank to the floor as she stared at her drink. Then she chastised herself for feeling disappointed. Why should she care if a pretty boy was interested in her or not? It's not like she moved countries to find a husband - even though her family would probably be overjoyed if she did.
She wasn’t even looking for a lover. That was never what these nightly excursions had been about.
She drained her cider, barely feeling its rich pear flavour as it trickled down her throat, and placed the empty glass down on the wooden counter a little bit harder than intended. They both jumped at the sharp impact and she couldn’t help the blush that spread across her face.
"Well- it was interesting meeting you Matthew, but I'm afraid I will have to take my leave now."
He gave her a small nod, and opened his mouth in what she assumed was a farewell, but before he could say anything else, Yasmin turned on her heel and walked away.
She ran through the streets, barely knowing what had upset her. She already knew that she wasn’t as beautiful as Cordelia, and it was definitely not the first time someone had preferred her over Yasmin. Maybe Yasmin had just thought that now that they were grown up, things would be different.
She arrived at the Carstair's residence just past midnight. The windows were dark and it was late enough that everyone else was most likely already asleep. Despite her earlier doubts, as she climbed the wall beside her window she was glad she decided to wear men's clothes tonight instead of a dress. It would have been very impractical to climb in. She just hoped that her appearance didn't shock the good people of London too much.
No, Yasmin amended, that’s a lie; she hoped she shocked them very much.
That thought was enough to return some of her good mood. There was no doubt that roaming the streets at night was her favourite pastime activity. It was exhilarating to say the least; wearing pants, leaving her hair loose, drinking at Downworlder bars.
Flirting with strangers.
She forcibly pulled that last thought out of her head. Her good mood had returned and she was determined to not let it slip away again.
She threw herself through the open window.
Methodically she changed into her nightgown, throwing tonight's clothes in the very bottom of her drawer, before locking it. She couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she sank into the soft covers of her bed.
So tonight might not have gone exactly as Yasmin planned, but there was a day tomorrow as well, and now she had a whole new city to explore.