This update definitely didn't come as fast as I would have liked. I had half of the chapter written since pretty much after the previous update, but then some drama happened at work where basically my lazy manager tried to dump all of her Christmas shifts on me and make me run the place on my own over the holiday period while management skived off, causing me to have a bit of a mental breakdown, and then her making my life hell because of said breakdown. It led to some work-place bullying aimed at me due to me saying "no" to her. Things ended up getting pretty serious. She made me feel like shit due to my anxiety disorder and purposefully did things that she knew would trigger me, such as slamming her hands down on the desk in front of me, and making passive aggressive comments, humiliating me in front of customers and colleagues. I ended up having to threaten her with legal action to get her off my back. That's the short version of the story anyway. After that, I was just trying to recover from my breakdown, and ended up getting writer's block and a small case of laziness as a result. Luckily, I have a new manager now, and things have calmed down a bit. Thank goodness.
Thank you so much for all of your wonderful comments on the previous chapter! I'm so relieved that people still want to read this, despite me sticking with exploring Sebastian's evil and demonic side. I love the darker side of things, and Sebastian's evilness is what has always fascinated me about his character; just how damn manipulative he is. Anyway, enough of me rambling. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!
9: The Long Game
The sun, as always, was barely visible over the city of London. Flora stared up at the grey sky, seeing nothing but clouds of smog. The smell of smoke was suffocating. Yet the city was strangely quiet. A few lamps glowed in the distance, yet there was not a single person in sight. Rather unusual for the local slums. But Flora didn't dwell too much on it, instead taking a deep breath before letting out a cough. The taste of blood filled her mouth as she turned to head back inside the tiny terraced house.
The inside of the house warped as she crossed the threshold. What little furniture there was became elongated. Tables shrunk, and chairs extended all the way up to the dilapidated ceiling. Flora's feet even seemed to float above the ground as she continued to walk forward. The sound of her mother's cries willing her to press forward, despite the invisible force that was pushing her backwards.
"Flora!"
Mother?
"The angels! The angels are coming, Flora!" her mother's feverish and delirious rambles filled the air as thick as the smoke.
"Mother!" Flora cried back, pushing against the air desperately.
Finally, she reached the source of the crying. It felt like a noose had tried itself around her throat as Flora gazed down in horror at the bodies on the floor before her. Both her mother and Jonathan lay on top of each other, limbs bloodied and tangled as their eyes stared up at the ceiling, unseeing. Her mother's dirty blonde hair was stained with blood from her scalp to the tips. Her shawl had tangled itself around her torso, and she lay in a pile of her own mucous and vomit. Ice blue eyes darted to Jonathon who was in no better condition. Brown coloured water poured out of his mouth, as if a small fountain had been shoved to the back of his throat. It soaked through his beard and clothes, oozing its way across the floor and towards where Flora was stood, frozen in shock.
Her whole body quickly shivered back to life, and she fled from that dreadful place. No! Not again! She couldn't face her mother's corpse again! It was all her fault! She should have taken better care of her! And now Jonathan had shared the same fate. Everyone close to her always perished. And now she was on her own.
No mother. No father. No friends to speak of.
She would be thrown onto the streets and left to starve to death. She would become just one of the many corpses one would see lying on the side of the streets in the slums.
No dignity. Nameless.
Forgotten.
Just an empty husk to be tossed onto the back of a cart like a piece of a meat, to then be buried in a mass pauper's grave.
But no matter how hard Flora tried to run, it always felt like a great force was pulling on her. Like a rusty hook had ensnared her ribcage and was reeling her in. Her nails dug into the stone wall as she tried to pull herself along the narrow street. The black bog beneath her reached up with individual tentacles, grabbing the hem of her dress and attempting to pull her under.
"No!" Flora screamed, her hands bleeding from the effort to remain latched onto the wall.
One tentacle of mud slithered up her leg, getting a better grip on her. It yanked, and Flora never stood a chance. She cried out into the empty city as her grip on the wall finally relinquished. The mud soaked into her dress as she was pulled against its dark surface. The small blonde woman kept her arms raised in a desperate bid to grab hold of anything that she could get her hands on. But any debris floating by disappeared as soon as she attempted to reach for it.
As she sank up to her armpits, footsteps quickly grabbed her attention, and Flora quickly glanced back to the street she had just been travelling to see Ciel Phantomhive simply standing there, staring at her with his now familiar sneer. Blood was oozing from behind his eyepatch, though he paid precious little attention to it. Instead, his deep blue eyes remained locked on Flora's own icy ones. Now she truly was nothing but dirt beneath him.
Desperate, Flora reached a pale hand out towards him, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the earl would find it within himself to help her. Briefly, the small earl's face flashed to Mr Lester's and then back again. Yet the facial expression remained the same. Complete and utter contempt. No matter how much Flora wanted to cry out, no matter how much her life currently depended on it, the words, as always, became lodged in her throat behind an invisible barrier. Those words then became a silent scream as red eyes began to open up all around her as she was pulled even further down into the inky blackness below.
"You've taken everything from me," the earl finally spoke.
What on earth was he talking about?!
His eye narrowed at her, even more blood pouring from his eyepatch. "I hate you."
Those words were filled with so much venom. It was like Flora had just been struck by a hundred vipers. But his words seldom mattered. Within the blink of an eye, Flora had been pulled under, and the mud filled her mouth and lungs. She choked, dying for air. And it was freezing, too. It pierced her exposed skin like tiny daggers. Flora thrashed around, unsure of which way was up and which way was down. The mud tangled around her, wrapping around her limbs in a vice-like grip and holding her in place. Her very bones ached and shivered from the cold. She was going to die. She was dying!
Flora's eyes snapped open as she thrashed around even more, gasping in a blind panic. She was no longer floating, but falling...!
"Careful, flower," a frustratingly familiar voice reached her ears.
Something caught her and halted her fall. Flora blinked, but everything in her field of vision remained blurry as the room continued to spin. She barely even registered that she was moving and being placed back onto something soft. The mud she had been entangled in felt like it was being removed, granting her more freedom. The mud that was now ever so soft and warm. However, before Flora could even think about bolting, her stomach churned.
"Umph," was the only noise she could make before doubling over and spilling the little contents of her stomach all over the place.
There was a sigh from next to her before it felt like someone was rubbing her back. Flora continued to choke on bile for what felt like an eternity, and she kept gasping between the waves of nausea, her lungs burning for air. Her throat and nose burned as well, making her stomach somersault again. The gagging and retching refused to stop. The spasms that lurched her forward refused to stop. The pain refused to stop.
But before Flora could even let out a whimper, she was vomiting again. Bile leaked out of her mouth and from her nostrils. In her delirious state, the young woman barely realised that she was ruining what appeared to be an expensive looking quilt. The intricate patterns simply swirled and refused to stay still. They spun like small whirlpools, sucking her further into their hypnotic depths. Her hand reached out in the desperate hope of grabbing something to make herself feel more stable. Something warm settled itself into her outstretched hand as tears poured down her face.
Red eyes. Black feathers. Her mother's smile. Singing. John...
"Flora!"
The aforementioned woman gasped, running ankle deep into the water towards the desperate cries of her master.
"Flora! Help me!"
Oh god... Flora tried to wade her way through the black water, but it was to no avail.
John's form was visible, bobbing up and down in the water close to the horizon. The endless waves of black water continued to try and pull him under. His arm was outstretched towards her. His eyes were fearful and pleading. Without a thought, Flora jumped further into the water, but it wasn't long before the current began to pull her in a different direction. It was like the water was alive. Like it was doing everything within its power to keep them apart.
This was all her fault...
The water pulled her under once again, drowning her. It grew warm, almost burning her. Almost as if she was in a crock-pot. She flailed her limbs, but her heavy, sodden clothes weighed her down. The hot water just kept licking at her skin. Her eyes briefly cracked open in the water, but all she could see were blurry shapes. There was a faint glow above her, but that was all Flora could make out. Despite being underwater, her throat was extremely dry. Then, as if someone had read her mind, a gold glass was pressed against her lips, and Flora began chugging down as much of the liquid as she could. It was cold and soothed her throat. It eased the fire that was burning across her body. Her eyes couldn't help but drift closed as something soothingly cold was pressed against her forehead.
Darkness became swirling colours behind her eyelids. The cold water kept stabbing at her just like that damn piece of mirror. A creature stared back at her in her mind's eye. Bright pink eyes glowing with uncontainable excitement. So many eyes. Each one locked onto her as the dark aura surrounding it kept drawing her in. The scream became stuck in her throat, her entire form paralysed with fear. Her finger stung even more, and the pull in her chest became unbearable.
"You look ridiculous," a voice echoed around her.
There was a chuckle. "It is only now, even after serving you all of these years, that I truly appreciate just how fragile humans are."
Flora fought to get away as even more cool water was splashed against her skin.
"I will not have her ruining any more of my expensive quilts."
"You have no need to worry, my young lord."
There was a scoffing sound as Flora curled into herself as tightly as possible. Her stomach was cramping, and the feeling of nausea was beginning to stir again. Colours still danced before her, finally wiping away the vision of that creature. Finally, the colours gave way to her bedroom from her childhood... well... the cramped room she had shared with her mother. Her head was in her mother's lap as the woman stroked through Flora's tangled blonde locks of hair. This was how they would often lay when Flora got sick. The summer was stifling hot.
"London's burning, London's burning," her mother sang. "Fetch the engine, fetch the engine."
The flames of the Great Fire of London licked at her skin, hot and searing. But again, Flora could not scream. The inferno that was the city was like being in the fires of hell. It burned and disfigured her body. Her wings were charred, her skin blistered and bleeding. The golden glow from above was no longer visible. There was only now a dark sky and dark flames. There was not even a single star. Just fire, and flesh, and bones, and pain. A howl erupted from her mouth before she could even stop herself. The hunger... the yearning... it was all too much... She would find it! And once she did, she was never letting it go!
"How is her fever?" a voice managed to be carried over the sound of screaming.
"Still no sign of breaking, my lord. I'm flattered that you care so much."
"Shut up."
Flora could feel a chuckle vibrate against her skin.
"The poor dear has been through so much. I must begin the joining ritual slowly," the other, deeper voice sighed out that last part in resignation.
"I never cared much for your species before, but..."
"But?"
"This... curse, you said? It will definitely not interfere with... our contract?"
"Taken Mr Spears words to heart, have we?"
"No. But a new piece has now entered the game, and I need to be sure it's not going to pose any problems."
There was a low growl sound. "I have warned you, master, that she will play no part in our games."
"I cannot have her idle."
"If you're so hesitant to have her around, then perhaps I should just take my leave with her."
A harsh gasp sounded. "What?"
"I warned you, young master. I was prepared to be reasonable and compromise –"
"Because of your own greed."
"– But if your revenge means so little to you, perhaps I am wasting my time here."
"You bastard."
"So what's it to be, my young lord?"
The room seemed to grow colder all of a sudden, and Flora shuddered as the icy air licked at her overheated skin. She felt something being pulled over her before more voices began to speak.
"I'm ready to hear your full terms..." the younger of the two voices begrudgingly announced at last.
"Mmm, very good my lord." The other voice was now practically purring and shaking in barely contained anticipation. "My dear Flora will now and forever more be my first priority, whereas you, my lord, must be content as my second."
Someone grumbled.
"That is how it must be, my lord, for it is impossible for it to be otherwise."
"All of this just because of some girl!"
The sudden shouting hurt Flora's ears, and she visibly winced in pain. Something nuzzled against the side of her face, relaxing her once more, however, the pain of the fire around her remained. Yet Flora had no energy to properly move nor voice her predicament. The voices speaking sounded so far away, and she could barely pay proper attention to anything they were saying. The words failed to register in her brain.
Further shouting made her wince.
"Sssssh." Something ran through her hair. "Do not wake her." The voice was beginning to sound sickly sweet. There was nothing comforting or reassuring about it, though. It crawled down Flora's spine, sending shivers throughout her entire body. Her natural instinct to run was being pinned down by her useless body.
The words seemed to have the same affect on the other presence in the room, as it failed to respond.
"She is not 'some girl', master. You fail to understand just how sacred she is, and how lucky you are to be alive right now. You are lucky that I am such a powerful demon and can keep many of my natural instincts in check. It makes things more fun that way. Besides, it would not do to simply sweep Miss Bryne away as she is. From her behaviour so far, she appears to have no idea who I am. I should have foreseen this; it has been many millennia after all. No. I must play the long game, and I'm going to enjoy every second of it. Nothing is going to stand in my way." The grip on her hair began to tighten. "She is mine. She is me. I am hers. And I am her."
"And her presence amongst my household?" The voice was failing to fully disguise their feelings of utter disgust.
A chuckle sounded next to her again. "I'm sure we can come to some arrangement, my lord."
Further dizziness pulled Flora's consciousness away from the strange conversation happening next to her. The heat was overwhelming her once more. The roars of flames drowned out the two voices. She was floating again. Her head felt like it was enlarging to the point where it might explode. Each individual vein throbbed as her mouth filled with a metallic taste. She was back in the Thames again, only this time, there was nothing to pull her to the surface. Lungs burned for air. The water felt like it was alive as it gripped onto every inch of her body. The ice finally cooled her fire singed skin, but now Flora could only shiver in the murky depths.
Desperately, Flora flailed her limbs before freezing when she caught sight of something floating in the distance. A figure. A body. John!
Flora flailed even more, attempting to swim, but all she could do was spin herself in small circles. John's limp form was being pulled further and further away. The girl's mouth opened up to scream, but only bubbles came out. John was disappearing. She had to get to him! She had to save him!
The water became snow, and Flora shivered even more. Her body had shrunk down to that of a child. Fingers and toes were turning white from the cold. The tattered dress she wore barely reached her ankles, and provided little protection from the harsh elements. The streets of London were growing darker, and little Flora did not even have enough strength to lift her head. She sat curled up against the wall of an alleyway opening on Whitechapel Street, hooded and exhausted eyes watched all of the people who past by. No one even spared her a glance.
Tired and fed up, Flora managed to push herself up onto her feet, using the wall as support, before dragging herself off home. She had been begging on the streets all day, but now she could no longer stand the cold. The little girl had only collected one penny for her efforts. Perhaps her mother had had better luck today.
It didn't take long to reach the tiny house that Flora shared with her mother along with many other women and children. The neighbourhood was fairly quiet as most were still working their long shifts in the factories or the mines. She past by Jonathon's shop, but decided against going inside to say 'hello', desperate to get back home and into shelter.
The wooden door was hanging off its hinges and was easily pushed aside. Flora shook the snow from her matted blonde hair, feet pitter-pattering on the floorboards as she made her way towards their shared room. Her mother was already back, standing by the window and leaning one arm against the wall. There was a puddle of light brown liquid in the corner which Flora ignored, more interested in what her mother was doing. The skinny woman was slightly hunched over and facing away from her daughter. Flora figured that she mustn't have heard her return.
"Evening, mother," the eight-year-old announced.
Her mother barely moved, and Flora frowned in confusion.
But at last, Katherine slowly turned around, and Flora gasped at the ashen grey colour of her skin and the sweat that lined her brow. The woman's eyes were bloodshot, and she was clutching her stomach with a near-crazed expression on her face.
"F-Flora..." Katherine chocked before retching and projectile vomiting grey sludge everywhere. The force of her retching knocked the woman backwards, and Flora screamed as she watched her mother fall to the floor in a puddle of her own sick.
"Mother!" the little girl cried out, running towards her.
Katherine thrust a hand out desperately. "No, Flora! Stay back!" She gagged again, more bile dribbling from her lips.
Flora froze unsure of what to do. Even more so when her mother moaned, writhed, and clung to her stomach as if it might fall apart at any second.
Oh no...
NO!
This couldn't be happening!
The miasma! The miasma had gotten to her! First the neighbours and now her mother! Cholera was coming for them! It had infected her mother, and no doubt Flora was going to be next! Flora panted alongside her mother, her breathlessness more so from panic than anything else. She screamed as her mothers eyes rolled into the back of her head, and the girl collapsed onto her knees next to Katherine's shaking form.
This couldn't be happening!
She couldn't lose her mother!
She just couldn't!
Flora chocked and gasped as her eyes snapped open. Something was being poured into her mouth, and she immediately sat bolt upright, spluttering out the cool liquid. Something began rubbing her back, making soothing shushing sounds. The glow of the sunshine pouring into the room nearly blinded her, and the blonde girl hissed as she closed her aching eyes again. Her head was throbbing and her stomach was still twisting itself into knots. Every muscle in her body ached, and Flora couldn't help but double over in pain with a groan.
"Ssssh, you're safe; everything is alright, my flower."
That voice was so annoyingly familiar.
No...
She couldn't be...
It had all been a dream, surely?
Please...
Slowly, Flora began to open her eyes again, only to be met with the sight of floral patterned quilts and thick woollen blankets. She was positioned on something soft, and a hand was still rubbing circles on her back, and she was vaguely aware of warm breath brushing against her cheek. Curtains were drawn open, allowing the sunlight into the room. It appeared even brighter thanks to the thick layer of snow visible outside. The curtains also fluttered slightly in a cool breeze coming from the ajar window. A fire crackled to her left, and it was then that Flora recognised that she was in the same room from before.
The hand left her back for a brief moment, and Flora turned at the sound of clattering jars and cutlery. The butler had his back to her as he messed with something on the table that was near the fire place. Flora could just about make out the empty bottles that lay scattered across the table before she began looking around the rest of the room. It was indeed the same room she had been locked in before. The rich colours and patterns were even more bold and striking during the light of the day. Once again, the young woman had been wrapped in layers of blankets on the same large and high bed as before.
Upon further inspection of herself, her cheeks heated up when realising she had once again been changed out of her regular clothes and placed into a linen nightdress. Fresh white stockings decorated her legs, keeping them warm and snug. A layer of cold sweat coated her skin, and it looked like someone had once again tried to clean some of the muck off her, yet some stubborn soot still remained. Foreign smells met her nose, reminding Flora of the chemist she would sometimes walk past in the city.
A hand met her forehead again, causing the young woman to jump. She followed the limb back to Sebastian as his brow furrowed in concentration. She froze upon meeting his red gaze, too terrified to move. Is this the part where he took advantage of her? Flora's stomach once again began churning in response to those thoughts, and she couldn't help but slump down slightly.
"Your fever seems to have finally broken, my dear," Sebastian finally spoke again.
Flora's throat locked up like always.
"You gave us quite a fright, falling into the river like that. Rest assured that you will not be doing that again." The butler finally removed his gloved hand from her forehead. How he could gauge her temperature through the fabric, Flora wasn't too sure. All of her limbs sealed themselves in place, fearful of any movement that may cause negative repercussions.
That's when John's face flashed in the forefront of her mind again, causing her to let out a weak whimper.
"I apologise, but I am afraid that Mr Swindon did not make it." The emotionless tone the butler used caused Flora to sink even more into the soft quilts. She wanted to cocoon herself for all eternity. Her heart felt like it had been ripped out. She felt empty. There was nothing left. Nothing left for her. She had lost everything.
Before Flora even knew it, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes burned with the loss. Something touched her cheek where the tears fell, and Flora flinched when she saw it was the finger of the butler next to her. He was staring at her with a blank expression, almost as if he was guarding every reaction from her.
Why was she here? Why hadn't they just left her to drown? At least then she could still be with John and be reunited with her mother. They could be a family again, just like they used to be. Eternally at peace. And why did they bring her back here of all places? If they wanted to be good samaritans, they probably could have just dropped her off at a hospital. Not that she could afford the healthcare. They could have left her with some nuns. That would have been much easier for them. She was a nobody.
"I understand you must be distressed at the loss of your guardian," Sebastian continued to talk at her, his eyebrow twitching ever so slightly as Flora pushed his hand away.
Sebastian's words appeared to be what finally opened the floodgates, and Flora fully broke down and cried into her hands. She had never felt more loss. What was she to do now? Not only would she miss John, but she was now a woman on her own. The weight of everything was pressing down on her, and Flora wanted nothing more than to let it crush her. But it never did. It just caused her more agonising pain. So much so that Flora didn't even flinch when the butler wrapped an arm around her and handed her a handkerchief. The blonde woman's hands were shaking too much to properly grab hold of her, so Sebastian dried her tears for her, making Flora feel even more useless. But Sebastian's presence, strangely enough, did make her feel less alone. Not that Flora was ever going to admit to that. For a moment, she could pretend that she had someone there for her.
"His funeral is to be held tomorrow. Our master has generously provided funds for the occasion and you will be able to collect your things afterward," Sebastian explained to her.
Flora finally looked up, shooting him a confused expression.
The butler chuckled. "You didn't think you would be left to fend for yourself, did you?"
Flora blinked, her tears subsiding slightly. Meanwhile, Sebastian gently played with the end of one of her braids.
"The young master is prepared to take responsibility for you – as am I," he purred quietly.
Flora shrunk back again.
Why did this feel more like a curse than a saving grace?
This chapter felt more like filler, but sometimes that filler is necessary in order to flesh out a story. Plus it was short, but I didn't want to drag it out meaninglessly. As much as I wish I could jump to all of the action parts, I can't. Hopefully my writing wasn't too rusty in this chapter as a result of my small unofficial hiatus. So yeah, please feel free to comment and let me know your thoughts. It's always greatly appreciated. Thank you to those who have left an analyses of chapters as well! Don't feel shy or apologetic for doing so! I love reading them so much, you have no idea!
By the way, I now have a new blog up and running. My old one was glitchy and broken beyond repair so I decided to just make a new one. It functions pretty much the same as my old one, and on it, you'll be able to find fan art people have made of my fics, story sneak peaks, my own concept art for my stories, as well as OC profiles (including one for Flora). Be sure to follow the blog to be notified of whenever I post something there. You can find it at thetauruspixie dot blogspot dot com. Links to story playlists are also on there as well.
Until next time!
History Notes:
Cholera – I should probably finally explain exactly what cholera was and why Flora is so afraid of it. Cholera is a bacterial infection that was rife in Victorian Britain. The bacteria was usually found in water, usually contaminated by the faeces of an infected person. Water sanitation wasn't exactly the best during this period – like, at all. It was John Snow (no, not that guy from Game of Thrones) who famously figured out the link to contaminated water; until then, people believed it was down to 'bad air' or 'miasma'. Whole neighbourhoods, especially in poorer areas, would all share one water pump between them. That's why certain areas would fall sick all at once. The disease itself was incredibly nasty. People could die within just twenty-four hours of symptoms appearing. The infection would cause people to become quickly dehydrated due to intense vomiting and diarrhoea.
Windows – Victorian households (unless in the centre of a city) would often keep their windows open, especially at night and when someone was sick. They believed that circulating the air around the room was good for you, and helped keep toxins from building up in a room. I mean, they weren't wrong on that one, especially due to arsenic paint being in literally everything lol. Fresh air was a particularly popular treatment for tuberculosis. Unfortunately, this treatment did not work for my own great-grandparents who died from the disease in the 1930s.
Healthcare – Black Butler is set in a time where healthcare was not yet free in the UK. There was often a fee for seeing a doctor and receiving care, so poor people often relied on religious houses and charities. In fact, a lot of the 'doctors' poorer people relied on were not qualified in anything. A famous example would be barbers. We think of them today as people who cut our hair, and in Victorian times, that was still the case. But back then, barbers were also often your local dentist and limb amputate-r. No qualifications needed; just speed. Removing a tooth or limb in under a minute was the goal.
One penny – About 50p in today's British pound sterling. I even own a real 1882 addition penny from this period that was gifted to me by a historian. I'll post a picture on my Twitter (Taurus_Pixie) if I can find it.