Authors Note: So, this is my first Kuroshitsuji fanfiction and I honestly really took to the character of Drocell; hence the fic. It is set after his supposed second death, upon the floor of the manor. Enjoy and please drop me a review; it's my first fic for rather a long time and in a completely different fandom, too.
A blissful summers morning shone through the stained glass and into the room of a small child; her eyes already long awake and blinking at the sights she was used to being around her. A soft haze of white and blue covered her walls, the wooden floorboards polished and shining. Her feet slipped out from beneath the warm covers and touched upon the lower surface; padding across the space to where her dress was awaiting her. Much the same as this, two other females of the same young age were doing the very same in rooms adjacent to hers; only with different colours painted upon their dresses.
The housemaid soon came up to collect them and ferry them down to the dining room where they were presented with breakfast and then met by their Mother and Father; soon whisked off in the carriage and towards London tow.
"Mother? Where are we going?" Eldest daughter, Ellouise asked, bright green eyes moving their way to lock onto the eldest female figure within the carriage itself; a very grand looking woman with her hair up in a bun and some kind of fox fur around her neck; upon the collar of her lush coat, green in colour.
"We're going to the old Mandalay Manor, sweetheart; Your father has heard that they are auctioning some Antique furniture there and would like to have a look at a few rather rare pieces."
"Yes, and if the three of you are well behaved, you can each choose something to bring home." The father added; a tall, smart fellow with a thin moustache and the stern expression of a businessman; black suit, purple waistcoat beneath. All three girls gave bright smiles, though the middle ages girl piped up;
"Father? We can choose anything?" Maisi asked, her brown eyes bright and glossy; towards the most important person in her life; she was a daddies girl, whereas her sister, Ellouise, was more of her mother's influence.
"Yes, my sweet, anything at all that you desire there."
Quietly on her own, Lyrieux looked out of the window and kept to herself; just imagining other things she could be doing, books she could be reading, things she could be making. But her thoughts were cut short when they pulled up outside with various others and thus made their way inside as a unit.
"£200? Any more~" The auctioneer droned on as various desks came under the scrutiny of the saleroom; or what used to be some kind of banquet hall. The house itself was actually rather beautiful, under all of the dust and cobwebs and littlest Lyrieux kept herself occupied by. Both of her sisters, Maisi and Ellouise were darting around excitedly; looking at various objects that had been gathered for the auction and smiling brightly when they found the things they liked.
"Everything has been moved from various parts of the manor..." Their Father explained softly as Ellouise bought back a carving of a horse; complete with leather tack. Maisi on the other hand decided upon a rather lacy dress; old but oh so intricately designed and created. "Some better quality than others but you have both chosen gloriously...Lyrieux?" The male turned to look around for his third and youngest daughter, who was crouched by a life-sized puppet; no strings and in a pretty sad state.
"Father? Can I have him please?" She asked, timid and quiet.
"Are you sure, sweetheart? There are much more beautiful things here and... well, he is rather broken..." His face was one of disapproval but the little girl was adamant she wanted him;
"Oh, please, Father... I'll fix him. I will, I promise!" Her dull blue eyes shone; almost silently pleasing towards him. With a soft and gentle nod, he agreed; moving off to pay for the various items his children had chosen before turning his attention back to the Auction.
Lyrieux remained next to the life-sized doll, stroking his hair out of his eyes and gently running her fingers over the splintered wood of his face and the ragged cloth of his jacket. Though he was worn and battered, he had a few termites in his head and he needed some tender love and care... she thought he was beautiful, and simply couldn't wait to get him home.
"Father! Please, be careful!" Lyrieux cried out as her father dropped the life-sized doll onto the floor of her bedroom, carelessly; still not liking the battered looking construction. The girl darted over to the pile of wood and gently untangled his limbs, softly stroking his cheeks and raising her eyes back to her father; "You have to be more careful, Pa..."
He gave a small nod and merely left her to it; deciding to go downstairs and converse with his wife and his other two children; Lyrieux preferred her own company, anyway, and it was a widely known thing within the household.
"I'm so sorry my father is so rough..." She muttered, still gently straightening the doll out; "I'll have you fixed in no time! And you will be even more handsome than you are now..." She leant over and softly planted a kiss upon his cheek; right near the fleur-de-lis that was painted there. After a small struggle, she had sat the male puppet up against her toy chest and smiled; "I will fix you as best as I can... I have to go and find some things so sit tight, I'll be back." A gentle wave to the inanimate puppet narrated her exit of the room; darting off to discover some items to aid her in the restoration.
By the time little Lyrieux returned from finding needles and threads, glues and sandpaper, it was rather late and she was far too tired to start her project that night. A small apology, a kiss to the cheek and a blanket draped over it's lap; she said her goodnight to the doll and merely gazed at it sat there as she tucked herself into her sheets and fell softly asleep.
A good night sleep behind her, Lyrieux ate a small breakfast within the company of her sisters and mother and then excused herself back into her room. She sighed gently, positioning herself upon her knees in front of the wooden male; blinking softly and removing the faded blue jacket that covered his person. Thankfully, most of his other clothing was intact and merely had to be dusted off; easy enough to do and it begun her restoration process.
After dusting the poor, neglected figure off, Lyrieux took his blue jacket into her lap and scanned over it for tears and frays; slowly taking her needle ad thread and beginning to close what shouldn't have been open, and repair what needn't be damaged. It took her a good few hours, sometimes crying out when she pricked her finger and drew blood; taking moments to have a soft cry and the sharp pain but then looking at the sad-faced puppet. It was the only fuel she needed to continue sewing and soon enough, the jacket was back to a wearable state; though was filthy from the floor he had been lay on for so very long, and scampered over my vermin.
In a rash decision, she tottered with the jacket in her arms, down to the maid and helped the elderly woman wash it and moved back up to her room with a cup of tea as it dried outside on the small washing line. Lyrieux sipped her tea as she glanced at it blowing in the wind, held on by various wooden pegs she was used to turning into her own dolls with ink and fabric; drawing on faces and creating her own little companions. But now she had a real doll, and my he was handsome; her best friend.
She sat in front of the orange-haired figure, smiling brightly as she sipped her tea. He was beginning to look better already and she had hardly done anything to his person; though his jacket was looking rather smart and hopefully would be dry soon. A puppet of a puppeteer. How unique. She sipped her tea again and placed the porcelain cup back onto it's matching saucer before moving to cautiously sit onto the puppet's lap; just gazing up at his face upon his drooping head.
"How sad you look..." She spoke, stroking his cheek softly; "...Don't worry... I'll fix you, I'll make you better and love you. You wont ever have to think about that nasty manor house again..." It was then the maid called her from downstairs and she darted off to collect the now clean and repaired jacket.
Over the next few days, she spent her time repairing and restoring his clothing; the maid helping her to wash them and then left her to put them back on the figure.
"There you go..." Lyrieux smiled; "You're looking really dashing, already!" Pondering, she looked between the sandpaper and his splintered face and hand. Some kind of animal must have gotten at him at some point and it made her rather sad; he has such a beautiful face and she wanted to keep it that way; but with less splintery parts. So, oh do gently, she rubbed the sandpaper over it and softly took back the harsh wood, making both sides even before moving on to his hand; gently taking off his now white gloves to access it. That was better. She would have to varnish him later on in the evening so he would be dry by the time she awoke in the morning. He was so very nearly finished.
Morning soon came and the three layers of varnish she had applied were, indeed, bone dry and glossy. He looked almost perfect. Almost. She had the task of removing the termites from within the hole in his head; squealing each time she managed to bring one out and putting it into a jar; which she later emptied into the garden.
"Almost there..." Lyrieux beamed, gently taking her time to finely sew up the hole in his head, being careful so the seem was almost invisible and then stitching the loose hair back in. He looked a bit of a mess for a while but she took her time to gently brush the dust out of his hair and style it once again. Now he was looking like quite the masterpiece and it was now she truly appreciated the craftsmanship of the puppet; he was so well made, so handsome, so well looked after; even with the tarnishing and the ageing ware. But that's what you would have to expect after being neglected for so long. A sad thought, but he was safer now; safer and loved.
"My, this is a lovely hat..." She mused to herself, glancing at the puppet as if he were a real person. She stitched a few patchwork flowers onto the ribbon around it and beamed once she sat it upon his head. "You really do look handsome, now..!" The little girl couldn't help but look up at him as she sat in front of his figure; admiring his eyes and the shape of his hair.
The door to her room was knocked and she turned around; eyes wide. Her father was stood there, looking over at her and the now restored Puppet. Still, he had a look of disdain upon his face and merely nodded once, leaving but someone else came in his place; her sisters.
"Lyri! What is that?" Maisi asked, pointing at the puppet she was sat before.
"It is my puppet... father bought it for me a few weeks ago and I fixed him... Doesn't he look handsome?" Lyrieux really was proud of her work, and it was evident in both her beaming facial expression and the tone of her words.
"He's hideous!" Ellouise added, both of the girls laughing at her before leaving and muttering 'It's a boys toy' under their breath. Petty behaviour, but nonetheless, hurtful words. Lyrieux loved her puppet doll, and even if no-one else liked him, she did; she loved him. Even her mother had shown a lack of interest in the finished product when Lyrieux had enthusiastically pulled her into her room to beam at her progress. Both of her sisters had tossed their chosen presents aside within just a week; and yet, Lyrieux couldn't bear to be parted from hers.
Feeling somewhat downhearted, she gathered together her collection of small dolls and sat upon the puppet's lap; playing with them happily for a few hours; putting on their voices and being kind, having fun and generally being a contented little girl. Though the late summer sun wore on and she soon grew tired; falling asleep upon the doll's lap with her head against his chest and her hands twined into his jacket for warmth.
The puppet blinked. Not once, but twice. How the scene had changed. Where were the dusty floors? The young earl? The demonic butler? The hyperactive reaper? Everything was gone... Everything had changed. He cricked his head to the side, taking a new view on the room. It was a bedroom, a child's bedroom and he was surrounded by little dolls. Nothing like the craftsmanship of his own, but dolls nonetheless. It was a nice welcoming, almost like a reminder of who he was.
And then, the small, female figure upon his lap met his eyes and he cricked his neck in the opposite direction. She was dainty, with long black hair and a soft complexion; such a beautiful face. "And so I think to myself; you would make a gleaming glorious doll...But then I think to myself, why am I conscious?" He took a few moments to analyse the situation, and put his arms around the small figure as she slept. "I think to myself, that I will wait and see."
Hours passed and the male Puppet merely watched over the sleeping girl, until finally, her eyes flickered open and she released her harsh grip on his jacket; feeling much more rested. She looked up at him, though he kept still.
"You look a little bit happier..." She muttered off handedly, thinking his head must have moved while she was sleeping, though much to her surprise, he replied his his smooth voice;
"So I think to myself; I am somehow fixed."
Surprisingly, Lyrieux didn't move from the puppets lap, but looked up at him with a quizzical expression: "You... You spoke!"
"Yes. I can speak. My name is Drocell Keinz... I am a puppeteer." He kept his words simple for the young female, and his expression as blank as ever.
"A puppet that is a puppeteer..." She mused, nodded with wide eyes. "N-Nice to meet you sir.. I... I fixed you." Her stammer kicked in; being nervous. "Some people found you in the Mandalay Manor and they were selling the furniture and things, so I bought you home and I fixed you up and made you better. I hope I did okay..."
Lyrieux was suddenly very shy; she had spent the past few days playing around him and talking to him; telling him all of her secrets and now... now he was actually living! Or.. as much as a puppet could be. It was strange ad she didn't understand, but nonetheless, he was there, and talking, and suddenly she didn't feel so alone in the world.
Drocell looked over himself, gently running his wooden fingers over the clean fabric of his jacket and giving a creaking nod. "I am almost perfect."
She took it as a complement; there was no way a girl of her lack of talents could have done anything more than she did; perhaps he would be able to fix himself more than she had.
"Um... do you need anything, sir?" She finally asked, admiring his violet coloured eyes.
"I think not." His reply was short and to the point, gently releasing his other arm from around her so she could stand and dash over to a box in the corner of the room; his music box.
"This was found next to you so I bought it home too..."
"Ah yes... it was beside me when the butler came in... so violent... he destroyed all of my dolls. Most brutal..." He stood, slowly and manoeuvred himself over to the music box; winding it to the noise came out. "London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down... London Bridge is falling down... My... Fair... Lady~"
"You said that... someone destroyed all of your dolls?" Lyrieux asked, sitting on her bed and listening to his song; one she had read a few times.
"Yes. A most traumatic event. Master was not pleased. Master is not around now. I am pointless." His face remained as emotionless as ever.
"It sounds it... I am so sorry to hear that..." She looked down sadly before walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his legs; My he was tall. "You do have a purpose, though; you're not pointless... You're a handsome puppet who I adore... you're listened to me dribble on about my problems for weeks... if only I had known you were living... I wouldn't have done it... I'm so sorry, I must have bored you..."
"Not at all. I found your musings rather interesting. And adoring your eyes throughout your whole array of speaking; my, how beautiful they are." Drocell spoke, touching her cheek softly. Lyrieux smiled in return.
"I'm so glad I have someone like you, Drocell...You're really special... especially to me... You're my best friend..." The little girl murmured, hiding her face in his jacket as she held her arms around his legs as tightly as she could.
"A little girl like you must have more than me? For I am merely a puppet." His face, still blank, still emotionless; though there was a glaze of fondness in his eyes.
"Time for bed, Girls." The maid called up the stairs, signifying she would be up shortly to make sure they were tucked in and warm; Lyrieux giving a soft sigh and not wanting to let go of the puppet she had grown to admire and love from first sight.
"I think to myself; the young girl should get into bed before she gets into trouble with her seniors." Drocell spoke, cricking his neck downwards to look at her; watching her shake her head in decline. He moved his head back to its resting position and the lifted the small female into his arms; moving her himself over to the bed and placing her within it; covering her with the blankets before she could rebel and then sat beside her.
"Drocell!" She cried out in protest but ended up laughing at his blank expression towards her and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck; he was cold, but that was to be expected. After all, he wasn't technically alive; as wonderful as he was. Hesitantly, the puppet mimicked her actions but with a single arm around her waist, rubbing softly.
"Come now, I do think it is time for you to sleep." He uttered, watching as she lay down and curled up under the covers, but still did not close her eyes. Drocell reached for a book on the side and glanced through it, taking its short pages back to the beginning and beginning to read the words aloud.
Lyrieux's eyes widened, settling down and resting; beginning to drift off slowly. He truly was a miracle in her life; neither her mother or father had ever read her a bedtime story and here was a puppet she had been given in a terrible condition, tucking her in and reading her one. Before long, she was sound asleep and Drocell moved back to his position, slumped, in front of the toy chest; pretending he was inanimate when the Maid came in:
"Oh, Lyrieux...Goodnight."
So I think to myself, I have no master; but I belong to the young girl now, I am a puppet, a friend.
~To Be Continued~