To all readers, welcome and hello!! My name is Amy, and contrary to popular belief (what do you mean, 'popular'?) I am not new to ff . net. I have been here for years, reading and sometimes reviewing, and posting (in my opinion) crappy stories under other names and emails. What ones, you ask? Why, that's not important. But I've decided to come back here as a (hopefully) improved writer, so please read my stories, enjoy, and review!!
Disclaimer: Since I'm not feeling clever enough to come up with a witty disclaimer, I'll just type it backwards: .ddoT yeneewS nwo ton od yletinifed tsom I
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Sweeney Todd knew the sound of Mrs. Lovett's footsteps.
He knew the many variations of her footsteps, and the emotions that came with them.
For example, a bouncy jaunt usually took her up his steps, as she was almost always happy and eager to visit him; the only exception was when something, anything, of a jarring nature occurred in his shop. On those occasions, the baker's pace greatly increased; the seconds between each footfall were reduced to nothing, so spurred on by worry and anxiety was she.
Then there were the others. When she was working, serving customers – particularly during a rush – she was quick on her feet, her steps light and measured. She flitted nimbly from table to table, whether to deliver more ale or pies or merely to make conversation, but she was not rushed. She was simply good at what she did, and not only the baking aspect; she was incredibly social and chatty, which made her a brilliant people person as her job demanded – but the plain, foremost fact was that she loved being surrounded by others. Her walk at those times was always pleasurable.
Even in early morning, or on days when her business was closed, she never seemed to stop moving. She was always busy with something: caring for Toby (which actually encompassed quite a lot, even though the boy insisted he didn't need much taking care of – so as not to provide more work for his 'mum,' though his efforts were fruitless), grocery shopping, laundry (he thought with a slight prick of guilt of all of his bloody shirts, and the pains she must take to return them to pure white), baking and cooking, of course, and Heaven knew what else she was always running about doing down there…however, despite all the work, her steps managed a constant liveliness that he could not fathom.
Sweeney marveled that the baker could manage to find so many things to do in a single day; for him, most days consisted of polishing off customers and little else. This left much time to pace the floor, thinking of the judge's demise, and also of Lucy, Johanna, Anthony, Mrs. Lovett, and even Toby. The cycle was broken only by the aforementioned Mrs. Lovett – and, Sweeney often thought secretly to himself, thankfully so, for if it wasn't for her there interrupting the frequently downward spiraling train of his mind, he would certainly go mad.
She popped in for countless things, such as to bring him food and stick around to make sure he ate it; to pick up bloody laundry and bring it back within the week spotless; to coax him down for a trot about the open-air market; and commonly, to simply visit and say, check in on him, or chat (although talk at would be more accurate, as his own conversational skills were more than lacking). Now that he thought of it, he himself added much to her already busy schedule.
Indeed, the only time she ever seemed to slow down was at the close of a day; her footfalls grew heavy - each taking longer to land than the next – but even so, she pushed on. The barber knew for a fact that she wouldn't let herself rest until every dish was washed, every crumb swept, the floor and every table wiped down and everything returned to its proper place. Of course, she tucked Toby in long before she was finished, in spite of the child persisting that she go to bed while he completed the work – but of course, she never allowed it. Not that Sweeney Todd would ever spy on her during his many sleepless nights.
When everything was finally done, the baker's feet were almost literally dragging across the floor as she made her way to the bedroom. Regardless, though, by the next morning, her walk was bright and energized once more – no matter the amount of sleep she ended up getting.
Yes, Mr. Todd was definitely well-acquainted with Mrs. Lovett's footsteps; he always knew it was her before she entered, and furthermore, knew exactly how she was feeling at that moment.
His brow furrowed in confusion now as he heard her coming up. It was, of course, unmistakably Mrs. Lovett, but her footsteps came differently than he'd ever heard. They were coming down hard on the stairs, quick but clumsy; there was no pause between each footfall, but often they sounded uncoordinated, even stumbling.
He frowned, putting his friend in its place at his side and setting down the rag he'd been using to clean it, then turning in anticipation towards the door.
"Mr. Todd!" The desperate, near hysterical call came almost before Mrs. Lovett burst in, entrance bell jingling madly. Idly, Sweeney noted it was probably a good thing it had been a slow business day; he doubted the woman in front of him would have liked to have anyone else see her, what with the way she was looking at that instant. He raised an eyebrow at her disheveled appearance.
It looked as if she'd run from wherever she'd come from, if her wrinkled clothing, the dirty hem of her dress and her messy, disarrayed hair were any indication. The baker said nothing for several moments, leaning against the wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Curiously enough, the barber noticed, instead of the flushed cheeks that usually came with such obvious physical exertion, Mrs. Lovett was pale, deathly pale.
After watching her with only a mild curiosity about whatever it was that she apparently so urgently needed him for, Sweeney decided – several moments after it would have been proper to do so – that perhaps he ought to go over to her. Several short strides later, he was standing beside her. He lifted a hand hesitantly, to possibly lay it on her shoulder, her back, something – but then thought better of it, dropped his hand, and instead said, with no real hint that he really wanted to know, "What, Mrs. Lovett?"
Still gasping for air – she was no young thing, after all – said baker lifted her head, her eyes meeting his, very much horror-filled; although whether it was due to what she had to tell him or due to what his reaction would be (or, he considered, possibly both), he couldn't be sure.
"It's – it's J- Mr. Todd, it's J-" she managed to begin, but was cut off abruptly by a violent coughing fit; she hunched over herself slightly, hand grasping the doorframe for support. Sweeney Todd surveyed her impassively, offering no assistance or inquiry towards her condition; alternately, he chose to consider her few, not-so-telling words while she pulled herself together. What 'J-' could have so keenly brought her to –
His thoughts halted immediately. He stared down at the still-hacking baker; his eyes were dark, hands trembling, cold fear clenching around his shuddering heart. Immediately, he seized Mrs. Lovett by the shoulders, everything about him harsh as he shouted, "What? What?? Johanna…is it Johanna?! Tell me!" He shook her to emphasize his commands, but although she had reduced to mere wheezing, she was still unable to answer promptly.
"It's – it's -" she began again, then paused to take a large gulp of air.
Frustrated and enraged by her slowness to respond – despite the fact that his rough treatment of her probably wasn't helping – he shoved the damnable woman against the door, causing it to slam sharply shut, his eyes burning into hers and demanding an explanation. At last – and most likely due to fright should she not reply quickly – she regained her ability to speak, though her whole frame was quivering horribly.
She shook her head rapidly back and forth, finally letting out the truth in a distressed whisper, one that he had to lean in close to catch. "It's – it's Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford, they're both – both of them, dead –"
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Hope this was a good, interesting first chapter, enough to make you review and come back for the next one!! Also, since I'm now going all-out on this writer thing: if you are a fan of Fruits Basket, please go read the first chapter I have up of my Yuki/Machi story!! And if there are any Inuyasha fans out there, I have a Miroku/Sango story in the works, but not posted yet!! -shamelessly promoting- ;D
It's good to be back here!! I hope you all welcome me!!
-as a note: for this story, the Fruits Basket story, and most likely the Inuyasha story, I will be posting practically the same AN at beginning and end of the first chapters (with a few minour name tweaks), just so it's the same explanation all around about myself/my stories, but after that, they'll change. So if you like all three of the fandoms/pairings I'll be writing for so far, if you've read one AN, you've basically read them all. When I post any other new stories/chapters after those, though, I won't do that :D-
Till next time!!
Lovelove,
Amy