After being woken at the crack of dawn for seventeen years, you would've thought her body would have grown used to the daily routine, and would wake her up automatically. Sadly, Marinette was still reliant on her mother to venture up from the bakery below, climb the ladder leading up to her loft, and gently whisper to wake her. Although she apologized to both her parents and would repeatedly promise she'd wake up on time the next morning, deep down she loved the morning ritual between her and her mother. Poking her head through the cut out, Sabine would smile and roll her mink grey eyes. Wiping her hand on her apron embroidered with flowers Marinette had done herself, Sabine would then reach her hand over and gently rub on her daughter's shoulder, telling her it was time to get up. Her mother's soothing voice usually did the trick, but the mouth watering scents that wafted up from the bakery below always managed to get her to shoot up with wide bluebell eyes.
This morning in particular, Marinette didn't awake wide eyed and bushy tailed. Instead she rolled over onto her stomach and let out a long groan. Burrowing her face into the pillow, Marinette's frown deepened as she listened to Sabine's sweet chuckles of amusement. Her hand glided across her back giving off the opposite effect it was supposed to. The repetitive strokes ordered her body to fall asleep again and her reluctance to get up made it much harder to force herself up. Just another half hour would do her wonders, but sadly 'the early bird gets the worm' was a motto that her family lived by.
Every morning, before the sun had awoken, she would hear her father whisper morning and his love to her mother below. The sound of his chaffed clogs stomping on the floor below would echo through the home, accompanied by his quiet hum he sang out, quiet enough it woke neither up. For hours he'd work merrily, preparing the family owned and run bakery for the day. She was grateful her parents let her sleep in until the sun began to rise, but even that wasn't enough rest for the young girl.
"Please," she begged in a scraggly voice that would only be soft and endearing after a cup of her mother's perfect chamomile tea. A breeze of rare warm air forced itself through her window that had been left ajar. It played with her lilac curtains Sabine had made her before she was born but refused to take down. They were something that had always been there. Much like her rag doll, those curtains had always been there. While she and the rest of her attic bedroom had changed and grown, the both of them remained and stayed the same. In those seventeen years she'd been alive so much around her had changed, but she could always count on those linen curtains and old rag doll.
Instead of fighting the girl, Sabine simply sighed, playfully mentioning that fresh croissants had just come out of the oven before making her descent down the ladder. Seeing that it was no use fighting her mother's will, Marinette sat up. With a heaving sigh she stretched her arms out, back quietly cracking. Dragging her feet across the floor, she frowned at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity. Her hair was frizzier than it typically was in the morning, probably because she'd forgotten to brush it after her bath. Running her comb through her wavy raven lock a couple of times, she gave up on getting it tamed completely and pulled it back into two pigtails.
Face washed, bed made, and dressed in clean clothes, she climbed down her ladder that would occasionally give her splinters. Like every morning her parents' bed was made and the back room was straightened to perfection. Since the bakery was almost a constant mess, Sabine tried to maintain a reputation of having a clean home. To her dismay, clouds of flour always managed to sneak their way through the swinging door. Adjusting her skirt, Marinette pushed open the door that opened to her parents bakery. The bright sun startled her and she slammed her eyes shut until they could properly adjust. Her worry and exhaustion lifted as the sweet smells swarmed around her and the warmth from the stone fireplace warmed her body.
Her moment of serenity was interrupted when she eyed her father leaning over with a small box in his hand. Her nose wrinkled as she watched him hand off the small pastry box to the girl. Marinette had never spoken to her but by just looking at her she guessed the girl was 5 or 6. A grateful smile ran across her face as she clutched the box, chiming a thanks before whipping around. Her long black hair held back in a braid whipped around. A freeze of warm Spring air and the lingering winter air blew in as she ran out.
Marinette glared at her father, arms crossed as she stared him down."Papa, I told you not to give her anymore!" she said with a rare fury bubbling up. To most, Marinette was a simple sweet girl, but her family and close friends knew she had quite the temper. Sabine smiled up at Tom, assuring him that he'd done the right thing."You know she's not starving, look at her! You're not going to tell me she goes without food,"
"It doesn't matter whether or not she's starving. She obviously has a reason to ask for food and who are we not to provide it?" Sabine said, her hands rested on her hips. Though her voice was stern, her face remained calm and sweet, an act she'd mastered so if anyone were to walk into the bakery suddenly, they wouldn't know she'd been reprimanding her daughter.
"Her parents should be providing it. She obviously has enough to eat, she's just taking advantage of the fact Papa can't say no to get sweets for free." Tom frowned down, looking out the window to catch a glimpse of the small girl he barely spoke to. She'd simply walk in with a precious smile and he'd hand over a box filled with either croissants or brioche. In return, she'd either wave, say a sweet thank you, or give him a kiss on the cheek. It didn't matter what she did with them, whenever she showed up every few days Tom would kindly supply her.
Marinette caught a glimpse of the hurt and her father's face and she sighed, walking over to him with a wavering smile."I'm only saying this because we can't afford to give her them. You know what will happen if we go-"
"Enough," Sabine sighed, shaking her head repeatedly. She was often to avoid the reality of the sad world they lived in and always the one to break up the small feuds between her husband and daughter. Sabine sucked in a long breath, facing Marinette with a straight face."We're fine dear. Two croissants aren't going to turn us broke."
Marinette kicked at the rough floor, her eyes trailing over to the tip jar set on the counter. Her parents had never had a tip jar and had always dismissed the idea. But for the past month and a half, ever since that notice had been posted for the whole seaside town to see, that small brown cup whittled from wood with the word TIP scribbled on it, sat there, glaring her down. She wanted her mother to put it away. No one ever put anything in it so there was no point in keeping it up there. All it did was give them all false hope. False hope that everything would be fine. False hope that notice would be taken down. And false hope that the world would go back to normal.
She felt bad that she left with tension lingering between her and her parents. As she straightened her shall on her shoulders, she thought over what she could do to make it up to them. Nothing that would cost anything of course, but maybe Madame Bustier would have some books that she could borrow. She knew her mother loved reading the ones her teacher from grade school kept in her private collection and Marinette was sure the redhead wouldn't mind letting her borrow one for a few days. Marinette had always been a good student, even if she had to drop out a year early so she could help her parents out.
Tom and Sabine had assured her they'd be fine but it had been clear they weren't. She dearly loved school and felt embarrassed to leave since it was rare to have a girl attending school. Especially now.
The pamphlet glared at all the villagers as they passed, all with their heads turned down so they could try and act like it didn't exist. Marinette too averted her eyes, trying to ignore the orders that screamed out at her. Everyone of lesser class in the town had been rattled by the notice. Some had anticipated the announcement but she never would've imagined it to be put in place.
Weekly tax checks.
The notice was straight forward, stating that every Friday evening a group of guards would visit each household to check they'd have enough to pay off their monthly taxes. If you were even a euro under the oldest in the family would be ordered to serve in the 2 year war they'd been fighting with the country across the sea. Most of the time she wouldn't have to worry but thanks to a recent tax increase to help pay for military weapons, nearly every week they were tempting the line of her father being ordered to the fronts. Many people she knew had been ordered to fight and some had died. One being her dear friend Alya, who had lost her father a few months earlier. Marinette had stepped in to watch her younger sister's, Ella and Etta, while Alya worked to help her mother and older sister bring in money. It had been horrible to watch the sweet family go through so much and she could only worry that the same would happen to her and her mother.
The mere thought of her father being sent to the fronts caused a shiver to run up her spine and she sunk back into her crocheted shawl. The soft fibers warmed her frozen skin and she felt some relief. Her scuffed boots dragged against the broken street and she scanned up and down the street. Crammed between two newer buildings sat the small boutique owned by Carla Lavilliant. Marinette grinned at the very sight of the light blue building that had become a second home to her. Her smile faded however when she was suddenly reminded why she'd been so hesitant to come into work that day.
She darted towards the entrance, nearly tripping two children who were rushing to school. Marinette called out an apology, not slowing as she hurried up the steps of the store. A gust of warm air consumed her as she broke into the shop. A fire crackled loudly and marinette panted as she struggled to catch her breath.
"Marinette, I told you there was no reason to rush!" Karla rose from her seat on the foot of the couch, brushing her long strawberry blonde hair back. The woman had a kind but threatening demeanor that would sway either way depending on the person she was speaking too. Around her and the rest of her friends Karla was always sweet but she'd seen the woman lash out multiple times at rude clients. It was nice to have her there to call out anyone who was being rude or willing to pay too little. Marinette was certainly someone who could hold a grudge but she never tended to call them out on their wrongs, easily contrasting Karla who would pull you by the ear if it meant you leaving her shop.
The tea kettle resting on the stove screamed out. A shifting of blankets followed and a quiet groan piped up. Her ice blue eyes soared over to the thin body lying on the lounge. Karla soothed the girl back to sleep before hurrying to shut off the stove.
Raising her head to face Marinette, Karla held onto a wavering smile."Want some tea?"
Marinette slowly shook her head, trying to keep her eyes off her old friend who laid on the long couch most clients would rest on while waiting for their dress fittings. Rose had always been the sweetest girl. When they'd been children and the thoughts of war were a distant thought, Rose was always the first to volunteer for practically any game and the first to cheer someone up. She one day stopped attending school as a whole and most were left to speculate what had happened.
Eventually, Juleka Couffaine, one of her old friends, informed them Rose had fallen ill and her parents weren't sure how long she had. As if by some miracle Rose survived, but the girl rarely left the street market where the shop sat and walked around with a crutch so she could use less strength. Just as the war had begun, soldiers from surrounding villages had stationed in their kingdom and a series of small colds and flus were sent around. Rose had been an unfortunate soul who hadn't been able to fight it and soon fell deathly ill again
Since she'd begun working for Karla, Marinette had had the unfortunate opportunity to watch Rose fall sicker and sicker until the girl was nothing but skin and bone. The Lavillant family hadn't the money to afford her proper care and although her parents had offered to help raise some money, the family refused, knowing they were as poor as them.
The Lavillant's. Sweet people with feisty personalities that wouldn't take a single euro from anyone if it would do them financial harm.
Nevertheless, Marinette constantly thought up different ways she could help Karla. The woman had taught her so much about clothing and had given her a job that could help support her family. But like everyone in her dying kingdom, she couldn't afford to give up anything.
"Of course I was going to come in early. Madame Bourgeois is coming in today, I wanted to get a jump on chores." She pulled a long broom that was in need of a sanding out from the only closet that wasn't filled to the brim with fabrics.
Karla had a gentle way of tilting the teapot forward that it only spilled into the narrow tea cup. She sighed, shaking her head in a fluent motion."Oh Marinette, Marinette, Marinette. What are we going to do with you?" she asked, smiling with her teeth as she poured a small bit of oatmeal into the cup. Mixing it in a clockwise motion the porridge let out a stale smell that would easily be fixed by the pinch of cinnamon she always added.
"What?" Marinette laughed, wondering if she should be concerned. Her mother only ever spoke to her like that when she tumbled down her ladder, trying to get ready all at once since she'd slept in. Her bluebell eyes doubled and the girl groaned as she threw her head back. She tugged on her long hair, the ribbons holding it back in pigtails falling fancifully to the ground."That's tomorrow isn't it?"
Karla laughed, sitting back down on the foot of the couch. Her smile wavered to a thin line, the ends curling up slightly when she looked down at her daughter. She brushed her short blonde hair off her forehead, frowning at the warm feeling.``Rose, it's cinnamon," she smiled weakly, part of her wishing the mention of her daughter's favorite add in would wake her up. But as to be expected, it didn't. Setting the cup on the ground, Karla lifted her daughter's head up onto her lap. Rose's eyes fluttered open for a moment but shut just as quickly. Easily opening the girl's mouth, Karla hummed softly as she fed the girl the cinnamon oatmeal, watching tentatively to make sure she didn't choke.
Her soft melodies filled the shop, the only sound accompanying it being the crackling fire and broom stroking against the ground. Marinette danced with the broom as she cleaned, almost as if it were her dance partner. Marinette added on with her own hums, ones similar to ones her mother would sing to coax her awake. The atmosphere of the home was warmer than usual and Marinette was relieved to discover their first scheduled appointment wasn't until ten.
The back door opening with a quiet click caught all their attention and Marinette was pleasantly surprised to eye one of her older friends."Juleka, I didn't know you were stopping by today."
Juleka nodded towards Karla, her own way of smiling. Her amber eyes glistened like the fire that was slowly beginning to die out. Her silky black hair was pulled back into it's usually low ponytail that would prevent coastal breezes from pushing it all in her face."We had extras and I thought you'd like them," she said, holding a cloth that contained fresh baked bread.
Marinette smiled kindly, ignoring her inner baker wanting to bury the bread beneath the ground. Sailors certainly weren't the best chefs and none of the Couffaine's weren't known for cooking. She still took a slice, surprised that it wasn't mostly salt like the last time Juleka had treated them to some of her crew's leftovers.
"Thank you dear," Karla smiled, taking a bite out of the nearly stale bread. Even if it wasn't anything compared to what her parents could make, Marinette could see true delight in the woman's fiery red eyes that had a habit of appearing like ruby's.
Juleka bowed her head, tucking the rag into her belt. It wasn't illegal anymore but still rare for women or young ladies not to wear dresses. She tended to wear shorts beneath her skirts, just in case she got hot, but most of the time she kept it on. She envied Juleka and her mother Anarka on how easily they dressed in whatever they wanted. She guessed living with mainly men had something to do with it, but the two wore what would be called mens clothes so comfortably.
Marinette studied the deep brown pants that were held up by a belt and cinched around her ankles. Around her knees it flared out ever so slightly but it never appeared baggy. She was of course wearing her usual sandals that she and her twin brother could always be spotted wearing anytime of the year. A white button down with wet parts splattered throughout tucked lousily into her pants and she seemed unbothered by the fact most older women and men would roll their eyes at her outfit that was certainly "Unladylike".
"Would you like some tea? It's still warm," Karla offered.
Juleka shook her head, eyes slowly pulling away from Rose. She scratched at the back of her head, shaking it."No, we've got so business to work out with the Dock Owners,"
"Is everything alright?" Marinette questioned, closing the closet door. It took a small amount of push to latch into place and she mentally noted how she'd have to ask Luka to help her fix it up.
Her hand resting on the door knob, Juleka shrugged. She adjusted the rag under her arm, just using it as an excuse to keep her hands busy."With more military ships docking, a lot of our ships are being pushed aside. We're just meeting to talk it out and make sure we won't lose our space."
"Well if I know your mother, I know you guys won't have to worry," Karla assured her, finger brushing Rose's cream colored hair.
Juleka nodded once more, keeping her head low as she bid the two ado. There was a loud snap as the door shut behind her but it couldn't be beat by the shouts from down the street. Karla's pale lips fell into a frown. She let out a sigh, keeping her focus on ehr daughter."Probably another riot. That's two this week,"
Marinette glanced out the round window, trying to keep herself busy with her usual chores before the shop opened, but the raging shouts kept grabbing her intention. She had the feeling everyone was angry about the notice and higher taxes, but she hadn't expected so many riots over it. On the inside she was a boiling teapot, but she'd never considered attempting to light the palace or burn the military ships coming into port. Any riots attempts so far hadn't been a success but each time she heard of one, her interest always piqued.
"Go," Karla said, frowning in the direction of the door. Marinette looked back at her, momentarily puzzled."Just stay away from any fighting,"
She felt like a child, thanking her repeatedly and quickly throwing her shawl on before rushing out the door. She had no clue why she was so excited. Someone could easily get hurt or worse. She of course didn't want that to happen, but she couldn't help but be curious of what they were yelling about.
Not to her surprise, a small crowd had swarmed around the source of the screams. Hopping on her tiptoes, she could make out two men in the center of the group. They both had their hands on one another and fury in their eyes. Her excitement plummeted and she frowned. Not a riot, just two old guys in a fight.
Falling back onto her heels, she waited there another minute, picking up on what the fight was about. It was clear the man balding on the top was being sent to fight and the other man apparently ripped him off. Most of the time, she'd side with the balding man, but easily he could be lying. People would lie about a lot of things if it meant not being sent out to what would most likely be their death.
I should get back, she thought, looking through the crowd one last time before turning her back. The crowd's voices were still loud as she neared the store but the sound soared louder after a moment.
"Stop!" multiple booming voices shouted. Metal clanked against the rough streets and her blood ran cold at the sight of multiple guards running towards her. She only saw them for a moment before a hand grabbed onto hers. It pulled her along and soon she was running.
"Sorry," a voice panted."Didn't mean to grab you. But it's best you stay with me or they'll have your head." The voice seemed to be amused which baffled Marinette who was certain she was going to die.
Struggling to run along with him, Marinette looked up to see a boy pulling her along. He was laughing as they ran, his blonde hair a mess as the breeze pushed past. Shimmering green eyes glanced at her, only matched but the light that he seemed to inhabit.
Marinette got caught in a stare, not noticing she was letting him lead the way entirely. He pulled her through a series of allies, his smile not wavering for even a second.
If you are wondering, Karla's name is inspired by Eren's mother Carla from Attack on Titan. Don't worry, I have no intention of killing her off… at least at the moment. I'd appreciate a review and corrections are welcome!