Lavenders Blue ❦

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟChapter One; Market Morning

The seemingly endless ringing of waiting bells echoed in Lance's mind, pushing him to work inhumanly faster. 'Biscuits, cups-'

"Lance!"

The shouting interrupted his train of thought greatly, smacking it off of the railing and forcing him to restart his count. Even from two stories up and through several thick, closed doors, Lance could hear his step-siblings scream like their lack of tea was nothing but fatal.

"Biscuits, teacups, teapots, jam.." He mutters to himself. His cracked, uncared-for lips barely move as he mumbles, his first time working his throat that day. Deciding to think and spare his dry throat, he checks his list carefully in his mind. 'Matcha for Kuro, Camomile for James, Herbal Root for
step-mother.'

Lance repeats himself out loud, releasing a deep breath he didn't know he was holding. He has to think himself back into reality, and the bells come back into the foreground, annoying him to the point he could slap them right off of the wall. Although, no one will ever hear him complain. To complain is to be sore tomorrow at the hand of a beating.

"Lance!" Kuro shouts, too much demand in his words for Lance's sensitivity.

"Coming!" The boy replies, shaky hands reaching out to grab the large copper tray. His skin is wrapped around bone and muscle, eery and almost unhealthy. He's fit, with muscle and stamina from laboring his young days away, but he has no meat on his bones to accompany it. Too skinny, his Mother would always say.

The tray his arms carry holds three porcelain china cups and teapots, creamy white with blue blossoms winding around them gracefully; hand painted. They also carry a saucer of soft biscuits, which Lance had prepared fresh in the morning, and blueberry jam from the market. Everything was fragrant, warm and absolutely ready to be surrendered to his spoiled siblings and stepmother.

As Lance made his way up the damp stone stairs of the basement, he focused on nothing more than the task he has been given. Deliver the tea, offer the biscuits, eat anything that is left. Which, unfortunately for him, usually wasn't more than a few thick crumbs and a spoonful of jam.

When he makes his way out of the musty basement of the estate, he finds himself in the large living room, one of two. There's the large one, and then the larger one, of which he isn't allowed to be in by himself. Haggar says he is too dirty, and would risk havoc in the heirloom-ridden room. None of said heirlooms are hers.

"Everything in that room is more expensive than anything you have ever owned yourself, you'll get it all filthy." She would hiss, and he only nodded sadly without the sadness ever showing. "You might as well powder off dust clumps in there instead."

He feels a presence at his feet, winding between his legs like thread trying to fit in a lanky needle-head. The creature mewed, smelling biscuits and developing a disdain for fish.

"Good morning, Kova." The boy smiles, straightening his stance when the cat starts looping around his ankles with more linger, rubbing his soft tufts on the human's legs like the house cat he is. Last time Lance let his guard down when this happened, he ended up landing three pots of steaming tea all over himself and the semi-carpeted staircase.

(His step-mother thought it would look elegant to lay an unusually long silk rug along the polished marble stairs, easy to shift and even easier to trip on. Lance knew this, since it was often wrinkled by Lance's clumsy, in-turned feet.)

"You don't want to come in here, Kova, it's scary." Lance whispers, grinning at himself since the cat certainly wouldn't. With a gulp, he shifts to knock on Kuro's door with his elbow. The quiet mesh of expensive shoes on carpet is vaguely heard, then the door opens wide. He sees the rugged silhouette of a boy in his pajamas, and from it, a hand reaching out to the tray.