The Violet Kind

by SubtleLux

Violet is drawn into a game with the rest of P4, involving Edgars' estranged female cousin, who is a new servant at the school. I do not own Black Butler or it's works in any way, no disrespect is meant. Any OC characters are solely my creation.

4. Chapter 4

It was after the P4 meeting had adjourned at the Gazebo that Edgar had begun to insist that Gregory escort Josie back to the dorms along with him. As the Violet House prefect trudged his way across the lawn with Josie walking a few steps behind him he remembered what Edgar had said clearly. "Really Gregory, it is a gentleman's duty to escort a lady back to her home, to ensure her safety you see." Redmond had dramatically clasped his cousins' hands as he said that, a look of supreme concern on his handsome face. The way he said it made it seem like Josephine was about to make a journey across Africa instead of traversing the lawn to the dormitory. Of course Redmond could be dramatic when he wanted to be, and for now it served his advantage to be melodramatic as he held onto Josephine and looked imploringly at the Violet House prefect. If Gregory refused to escort the girl now he would seem as if he didn't care about her welfare. It would be rude at this point to refuse; he wouldn't seem like a proper English gentleman and he might be reprimanded by the others.

So now he walked with the girl in tow behind him following him like a shadow. She obviously knew the way to the dorm as she was its current maid, but for some reason she stayed out of sight behind him. He was fine with this, if she stayed out of sight then he wouldn't be forced to make small talk as they approached Violet house. Gregory walked up the stairs to the dorm; behind him he could hear the swish of her skirts and the tapping of her shoes as she walked up the stone steps. It was just a simple sound to remind him that she was still behind him. He kept his head down and covered by the heavy cowl, his sketchpad held protectively in his left hand. Once they reached the top of the stairs he went to the door and held it open so both of them could enter the house. She gave a small smile as thanks as he held the door open but he gave no acknowledgment in return. Holding the door open for a lady was simply what was expected of him.

Once in the lobby he started to make his way up the stairs to his own room, which was at the very top of the dormitory. Many people would probably consider it the attic, and it had been at one point, but had been refurbished to be the room for the prefects. Sometimes he felt like a crow in a nest starring down at everyone, it was a pleasant perch and he would only be happier if it had been in the basement. He heard a gentle cough behind him and he paused mid-step and turned to look at Josie, hoping she wasn't going to try to start a conversation with him now that they were alone together. She looked up at him, "my servant's quarters are down in the basement, if you need anything or if the other students need help that is where I usually am if I am not doing my chores." He just nodded at her. He couldn't think of any reason he would have to go find her personally. With that he turned and continued up the stairs, and he heard the rustle of her skirts as she descended to the basement.

When he finally made it to his room he let something very much like a sigh leave his throat as he collapsed on the bed. He took off his hood and simply lay there with his sketchbook beside him. Violet knew he couldn't lay there for long; he had more duties as a prefect to do before the evening wore one. Even on a weekend there was always something to oversee or do. It really was a bothersome job to have; he wondered if any of the other prefects felt this way about their duties? After staying prone for a few more minutes he turned over and flipped open his sketch pad to the drawing he had been working on the entire time at the gazebo. It was the tree with the roses for leaves, done in charcoal. It was a pretty picture; he had done a good job but then then was his one true artistic ability so why shouldn't it be good? But it still needed to have some fleshing out now as it was still looking too barren. He busied himself drawing in shrubbery and the details were added to the trunk so you could see the texture of the bark. Somehow the profile of Josephine popped into his head and thought about adding her to the picture somehow, but he shook his head and dismissed the idea.

After a few minutes he set the drawing aside, nowhere near satisfied with what it was. Usually he could finish entire paintings or sketches with a supernatural speed. Today this sketch was giving him too much trouble and he had too many ideas racing through his head. If he kept at it now he would ruin it so it was best just to come back to it later when his mind was clear. So he sat at the foot of the bed with his legs pulled up to his chin and he stared out the window thinking of nothing in particular. The sky outside was starting to cloud over and a light grey light started to cover the landscape. Then it started to rain and the drops hit the window in a tiny staccato beat that he found captivating. This was actually the kind of weather that he preferred over all others. He would like it to rain all the time if he had control over such things. But with the weather how it was in England it was usually raining and overcast somewhere. So of all the counties in the world this is probably where Gregory would have felt most at home anyway. He watched the rain fall contentedly even as it got darker and the rain hit the glass more insistently. It looked like a storm was starting to gather strength even as he sat there on the bed. Outside the wind howled and the force of it was bending the trees and stripping them of their leaves. So for a moment in the fading light it looked as if everything was going green as the leaves swirled in amongst the rain and wind. Still Gregory watched the scene outside, fascinated by the severity and abruptness of the weather change. He grabbed his sketch book and began to draw what he saw. Then the lighting and thunder started to crash outside and he added in streaks of light to the paper. It was like nature was creating her own art, painting on a canvas the same as he was doing with his pages.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door and he sighed as he set the pad down and pushed himself off the bed and went to answer the door. It was Cheslock, but then he shouldn't be surprised at that. If anyone was going to knock on his door it would be him. He looked up at him and suddenly wished that he still had his hood and cowl on. He felt far too exposed without his usual thick coverings. He looked down at the floor as he finally addressed Cheslock, "What is it?" Cheslock spread his hands in a placating gesture, "it's just that the storm, they say it's going to be a bad one and everyone is gathering in the center of the dorm for safety." Gregory sighed and looked up at Cheslock with a tortured expression. He would have much preferred to have spent the time in his room with his sketch pad enjoying the violence of the storm. But if everyone was gathering in the main lobby then he would be forced to join as well, because as the head of the Violet House he had no other choice. He said nothing else but nodded at Cheslock, and then he went to retrieve his cloak from the bed where he had tossed it and quickly put it on and pulled down the cowl so his face was covered like normal. He turned back and was about to say something to Cheslock, but then there was a loud crashing of glass from somewhere downstairs followed by the panicked screams of the dorms youngest students.