Chapter Text
Why the hell was he here? Why the actual hell did he come to this manor in the first place? He hated the people he grew up with, so why did he go work for another posh bastard and her manor? Why did it feel like he forgot something during his sleep?
Heathcliff wondered just why he’d come here as he woke, finding the cramped space to be as cold as ever. His bed was in a small room, tucked away into a tiny corner of the large building. At 6:00 AM every morning, a fist beat upon the door to his room, waking him up without fail each time. After all, during his first few days here, Heathcliff had gotten beat within an inch of his life by that bitch. “Hurry and get up you whelp,” the admonishing tone belonged to none other than Outis, the Chief Butler running this dark joint. And she seemed to hate him with how he was treated lower than a human.
Guess that’s what he was though, considering how low on the rung he was. If there was a ladder tall enough for the hundred or so Butlers employed at this manor, then Heathcliff would be right at the bottom, probably even below the first rung. And this was for two reasons. He was the newest, and clumsiest, plus he was the only man that was contracted here. It made him feel rather…alienated, as if, despite the five year tenure he’d be taking, he would never fit in no matter how much time passed. Heathcliff thought that if, by some miracle, or he supposes nightmare, he were to take Outis’ place as the chief, then he’d still be hated. Whatever, he didn’t care much for hypotheticals first thing in the morning. “Get your ass up, whelp, you a-”
“Yeah yeah,” he had just finished buttoning up the white undershirt he wore daily. Err…well not everyday, it was just one of seven that he shifted out daily, same with the suit jacket he took from the hanger closest to him. “Don’t get yer knickers in a knot, chief,” his words probably didn’t help others like him, not that he gave a crap. Before the chief Butler blew a gasket, Heathcliff opened the door, adorning the jacket as he did. “What is the agenda for today, chief?”
“It is Chief Butler Outis to you, whelp,” her eyes cast a glare that would corrode anyone’s soul. Not that Heathcliff cared…this was just a typical normal morning. “If you are attempting to void your contract, then just know I won’t ever let you leave. Neither will the Lady of our beloved manor,” her smirk transcended cockiness. It was truly disgusting how prideful she was when it came to their Lady…not that Heathcliff had ever seen her. He could hardly recall her name…he knew it started with…well he actually lied.
He only bothered learning the names of exactly three people. Outis was obvious, if he’d ever forgotten her name he’d be lashed ten times as a result. The next was Don Quixote, a little lass he’d been assigned to assist from time to time. She had way too much energy, enough to make him want to blow his brains out from time to time when she went on a tangent about those Fixers or whatever she called him. And then there was Ryoushuu, the woman he was pretty much glued to after the Chief Butler told him someone would be on his ass to fix everything about him. He thought he’d come a long way, but every time that he did something wrong she’d pull that damn knife on him and tell him how to do it right with a glare. At least she didn’t think of actually using the damn thing.
“Didn’t expect much else outta ya,” Heathcliff smirked, his pearly whites aggravating Outis further. “Anyway, is it just dusting and sweeping down here again, today?” It seemed that was one of the main things he’d be doing for the next five years. After all, not even once, had he been permitted to go upstairs, especially since Butlers blocked the stairs.
“Precisely,” and then, out of his sheer insolence, her white gloved hand left a print across his left cheek. “Now, learn to treat your boss with respect,” he just glared at her, knowing that if he were to touch her, he’d probably get beaten by the few Butlers already moving. “Insolent whelp,” with a final insult, Outis left the man alone. Clearly the power to do what she wanted when she wanted didn’t get to her head. Clearly .
“Fucking bitch…” he muttered nursing his cheek, heading off to look for his second ‘boss,’ the one he appreciated a ton more than Miss Big n’ Bitchy. God, why couldn’t Nelly be the Chief Butler here? Haaah…the more that he thought about it, the less his pining for the Wuthering Heights manor made sense. What real reason other than Nelly’s kindness did he want to return? To suffer more of Hindley’s beatings? To be a test on Linton’s new guard dogs to see if they were good or not? To…Heathcliff paused, scratching his chin. Something was amiss, wasn’t there a third person that practically lived in that damned manor…?
Ah, right, how could he forget. A hand slammed into his fist. How could he forget about that oddly quiet Isabella lass. Unlike her damned brother, the lass was somewhat nice…and demented in her own posh way. Heathcliff didn’t actually mind her presence that much. Was she the reason he became a butler? No. Definitely not. Obviously he was trying to impress someone , to prove that though he may be a brute, he could be refined, courteous. Maybe…he just wanted to see the smile on Nelly’s face at the end of his tenure?
“Already smoking, huh?” Heathcliff asked, smelling her fragrant nicotine before entering the colorless hallway. “Those things’ll kill ya, you know?” Through the darkness, muted red eyes glared at him. It was as if he were walking into a lion’s den. She seemed to like being colorless…crazy bird.
“B.Q.D.” A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. Try as he may, Ryoushuu’s cryptic messages left him confused.
“Be…quiet…” he went with the former of the two options, “dunce?” Heathcliff only hoped that she wouldn’t be one to treat him with the title of dumbass like Hindley or Linton.
Ryoushuu laughed before the clicking of heels approached him. Standing in front of him she breathed an air of smoke while tapping the ashes onto the ground. She wore the same uniform as every other Butler did, a black dress with white frills. A typical maid’s dress, headband too, a lot like Nelly’s. However, in place of that large box she slung over her shoulder, she had an odachi engraved with…well he couldn’t read it so it didn’t really matter. It looked nice on her back though. “Close. Dumbass,” of course, he was plagued with that wherever he went. “Piss off B.B?”
He smirked, “yep, gave me a real shiner, didn’t she?” It wasn’t uncommon for a slap to be left on either of his cheeks.
Ryoushuu sighed, plucking the cigarette from her lips, “why must you do this, Heathcliff?”
He quickly looked around, making sure Outis wasn’t around. “Promise you won’t tell?” She shrugged with a grunt, when did she forget how to speak? “Because I want her to.”
“S.F.” He understood the message, but not why Ryoushuu’s eyes lit up as she smiled.
“Huh, I’m not a sadist,” Heathcliff blushed, feeling rather embarrassed by her comment since it was pretty much true. He did take and deal quite an unhealthy amount of punches and kicks back in his Syndicate days, and he quite liked it. Both sides of the pain made his blood boil with joy. Same with right now…though getting her pissed at him was a lot more fun than getting hit by her though.
Maybe Matthew would allow him back in after this all. He needed to rid his mouth of this posh taste after all this crap he was set to endure. “I just want her to rip up my contract and fire me.”
She dryly laughed, “good luck. B.B. hasn’t done that since I started.” Which was her entire life, her mother had trapped her into this doomed situation by giving birth to her. “Doubt it’ll ever happen, so,” she grabbed one of the two brooms and hit him over the head with it. “D.W.A.S.B.B.”
“Yeah, not a fuckin’ clue,” Heathcliff lied, mainly because he didn’t want to translate the hidden words she snuck in there. Damn those ‘its’ and ‘ands,’ “anyway, where are we cleaning today?”
“The kitchen,” but they did that the day before yesterday, how the hell did it get dirty that quick? Ah, right, a hundred Butlers needed to eat three times a day, didn’t they?
“Are we dusting the ceilings again?” She nodded, causing a vein to bulge on Heathcliff’s head. “Then please try not to grab my hair and try to lead me around like I’m some sort of bull.”
Ryoushuu smirked as she passed him, “N.P.” Good. No Problem. Thank god ‘cause his roots were still aching from her annoyingly strong grip.
“Hey, got something for me to throw this away in?” She asked when they got to his room, holding up just a filter for the cigarette. If Outis found one more of them lying around during cleaning, then she’d receive ten lashes. She didn’t really care, just didn’t want blood to get in her frilly uniform. It was a nightmare to clean as is.
“Err…” there wasn’t a single bit of furniture in that damn coat closet of his, “just toss it in.”
Ryoushuu’s left eyebrow shot up, but she opened the door to sate her curiosity. After all, she’d never seen the inside of his room since he started two months ago. “Wow…” she muttered, a frown on her face. Above his head was a pole stretching from wall to wall, being used as a rack for all of his suit jackets and undershirts. “T.D.Y.L.L.T?”
A curious gaze didn’t meet her, after all Heathcliff got the message just from the look on her face. “Haven’t been given permission to leave after all,” he’d been trapped here for two months straight, which sent his nerves into overdrive. “Can’t even furnish this crap coat closet anyway,” if he added even the tiniest nightstand he could find, he’d have so much less room to move around in.
“Idiot,” she hit him over the head with her broom handle, “you know you could’ve just asked.” Every Saturday morning, Ryoushuu went with some broad and Don Quixote into the backstreets of T. Corp.
“I’m not gonna bother you with luggin’ around heavy shite,” a red spot was growing on his forehead. “‘Sides, you can quite literally see how bloody small my room is.” Yeah, she couldn’t furnish shit let alone walk in there without hitting her head.
Ryoushuu would’ve taken a long drag of her cigarette, but there wasn’t even a bit left to smoke. “For now,” she flicked the cigarette into his room, landing it right beside his second pair of boots. The right of which had all his Ahn behind the lip, along with his pocket watch. Hardly any of the Butlers carried one on grounds, there was no need to unless you were heading out. “We’re getting you a box,” oh how lovely, a box to house nothing. Maybe he could curl up and sleep inside it some nights. “I’ll convince B.B. to let you come with us Saturday, but if not then I’ll drop by before.” Genuine kindness from Ryoushuu? Did he wake up in an alternate dimension?
“Wow…” he cleared his throat, letting all the stupid insults and comments bubbling up sink back down into the acrid pit he called a stomach. “Thanks, Ryoushuu.”
“N.Y.D.” She muttered, shutting the door to his pathetic room. “Now, come on,” they had to get on top of their work or Outis would be on their asses. Didn’t want to ruin his chances now, did he.
And so, after about two minutes of traveling, the two entered the kitchen. Looking around, Ryoushuu looked around for anything worthless enough to be used as a nightstand. A crate of milk, a box of tomatoes, hell even a sack for potatoes would work. But there was nothing in sight. The damn staff here were like vultures, picking out every damn piece of trash that could be used for the dumbass behind her. So, in anger, she grabbed a cigarette and lighter, “won’t B.B. yell at you if you smoke in here?”
“Get to sweeping.” Biting down on the filter, Ryoushuu left through the doors they entered from, striking a fire right after. Lucky broad, got to use her smoking as an excuse to fuck off. Maybe Heathcliff should do that…as if Outis would let him. If she ever caught him smoking he’d probably be locked in the damned basement. Hmm…just what was down there to lock it every day? A bunch of alcohol? Ooh, maybe even a dungeon of sorts, after all it seemed only Outis had the key to go down there. Probably the Lady of the manor as well.
When the door opened, Heathcliff half expected that stringent boss of his to admonish him for having such thoughts. But no, it was a white haired lass, come to either assist them or start her day off. “Oh, ‘s just you,” he muttered as she looked at him…not that he actually knew her name. He’d seen her a couple times, specifically here, after all this was her domain along with a few other Butlers that never bothered to talk to him.
“Faust has been told that you require a box of some sorts?” Heathcliff sighed, she was definitely looking down on him for this. But at least she was saying her name…right? “Faust does not mind, after all she knows how strict Chief Butler Outis is.”
“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “wouldn’t say I require it. More like the broad outside is forcin’ me to get something.” Some of these people were rather kind, even if they were extremely unique. Heathcliff wouldn’t look this gift horse in the mouth though. Even for a place called the Drowning Steppes, this was a large step up from Wuthering Heights. May he curse that manor as long as he lived. There were only a few times he liked it. A recurring event being when Nelly snuck him an orange before Hindley forced him out into the barn. He’d enjoy it even if the storms outside threatened to tear the walls down and let the freezing rain in. The solitude did good, even if those nights were spent clutching hay to keep his body warm. He wished those nights he had some sort of companion alongside him…but he figured that Nelly sneaking him in before day broke was good enough. Gah, he really missed that broad’s indiscriminate kindness.
“Very well, Faust shall search the trash for something,” as she walked past Heathcliff, he grabbed her shoulder. “Is that insufficient?”
“No,” obviously it was, “I’d…er, rather find it myself. Don’t want you riflin’ through trash on my behalf,” a small smirk crossed her face.
“Faust does not mind,” Heathcliff sighed, either she was looking down on him or being kind…his bets were now on the latter. “Let Faust assist you.”
The door opened once more, and Ryoushuu walked in, her cigarette burnt down to nothing once more. “H.G.Y.H.T?” She shook her head, “good, then go get him a box, Faust.” When Heathcliff followed her, Ryoushuu’s eyebrow rose, but she instead sighed. “She can do it on her own, Heathcliff.”
He grunted in disapproval, “don’t want to lass to dirty her uniform ‘cause of my…needs.” If he was being forced into this, then he neither wanted nor needed it. “Now, since you so desperately want me to have a nightstand, even if it’s a rotten box, I’m going to go get one with the broad here.”
Ryoushuu sighed, “the only boxes are in the trash?” Faust nodded, “then forget it, can’t force you to bring trash in.” If Outis saw, then she’d be getting the man in trouble for no good reason. “You’re still getting something when Saturday comes,” he shrugged, knowing that he wasn’t able to refuse her assistance. “Now come on,” grabbing her broom, Ryoushuu began to sweep the small pile Heathcliff had already gathered.
“Do you wish for Faust to assist you, Lady Ryoushuu?” Right, she was the second in command…maybe if that B.B. passed away then Heathcliff’s life would turn out for the better. Ah, that was downright vile to think…
“No, D.W.Y.D.B.”
“Understood,” Faust said, grabbing a mixing bowl from a cabinet she knelt down in front of. “Faust asks if you are dusting today as well.”
Ryoushuu looked at the cobwebs in the corners, they gathered insanely fast. “Yes,” the answer caused Faust to put the bowl away, “Heathcliff, that’s first.” He sighed, crouching down like a frog waiting to croak. Getting on his shoulders, Ryoushuu pulled a duster from her back pocket, “ascend.” Listening to the command, Heathcliff rose, bringing her right into a corner for her to dust. If not for these high ceilings, she would’ve been able to clean it on her own. She used to use a ladder to clean this place up, thank the Wings for Heathcliff, much easier this way.
Keeping his gaze downward, Heathcliff swept up what he could in this corner. He was content with it until Ryoushuu grabbed at his brown hair and pulled to the left. “Oi, I thought you said no problem earlier!”
“N.P.” Ryoushuu said with a giddy smirk, continuing to pull Heathcliff off to the side because she found it amusing.
“Faust believes Ryoushuu is saying ‘no promises,’” the smirk transformed into a smile as she continued to pull.
“Are ya fuckin’ serious?” Heathcliff walked forward, his head reared up to minimize the pain.
“H.E.H.” She laughed, she was tearin’ his goddamn hair and she was laughing. This was the…eighth time now, wasn’t it. He was fed up to be honest. Enough to mindlessly grab her hand to squeeze it open. “Heathcliff,” her voice was dead quiet, striking a chilling fear into his blood. “Do you really not like it? Thought you were a sadist,” the tease did nothing to lighten his mood. “Haah…” she sighed, breaking free of his grip with surprising ease. “Sorry, kid,” her hand tousled his hair, “O.H.D.H.” Ryoushuu smirked, nearly grabbing a cigarette from her pocket. Had Faust not looked at her, then there would be smoke contaminating the kitchen. “Still, N.P.”
Heathcliff knew it wouldn’t be that easy to stop her from ripping the hair out of his scalp. But at least she was apologizing this time, small steps right? That’s what Nelly said, “‘S fine, but at least be gentle about it, yeah?”
“N.P.” Great, no promises, he would be balding by the end of his tenure, wouldn’t he?
“Faust believes Ryoushuu is saying no problem,” Heathcliff looked up, nearly finding the duster handle jabbed into his eyes as a result.
“Indecent,” Ryoushuu muttered after hitting his forehead, “now it’s N.P.”
“I’m sorry,” Heathcliff muttered, hoping that she’d change her mind somehow.
“Nope, W.A won’t change my mind,” Heathcliff groaned, but as she tugged his hair he could certainly feel less pain. That was good at least.
⛈️~~~~~~~~⛈️
By 09:00 breakfast was prepared, runny eggs and a side of bacon…as Heathcliff loved. It was his go to breakfast that Nelly always lovingly prepared. Even if they were scraps, she prepared them with all the love she could spare. If not for her meddling, he was sure there wouldn’t be anything fresh set aside for him. Rifling through the trash…perfect for a worthless hound like himself. Taking a spoonful of egg, Heathcliff brought it to his mouth, but was interrupted before he could taste it. “Heathcliff,” Ryoushuu sat in front of him, blowing smoke into the air, “need you to help Donqui.”
That was the lass who was transfixed on Fixers right? “Can’t it wait?”
“No,” she plucked the cigarette out of her mouth, “the Lady needs her sustenance.” With a sigh, Heathcliff stood, “she’s in the kitchen with Faust. D.K.L.W.”
“Got it,” he looked to his food with one last look, “mind not smokin’?” Even though she groaned, Ryoushuu ground the cigarette against the tabletop. Unsanitary, but good enough for him. Crossing through the dining hall filled with countless voices, too many for him to discern, Heathcliff entered the kitchen. “Oi, lass,” she was struggling to lift the large tray topped with a silver bowl over the meal. “I’ll handle it,” with sweat atop her brow, Don Quixote stepped out of the way. “Fuck, what’s she eatin’? Concrete?” With a few grunts, Heathcliff lifted the tray up to his hips, keeping them level without so much as a shake.
“Wow Sir Heathcliff,” the girl had stars in her eyes as she watched him struggle. “Thou art strong as an ox!”
“‘S cool n all,” he glared down at the girl, “but can ya get the fuckin’ door?!” Too transfixed on him, Don Quixote had forgotten the entire reason they were doing this.
“Right!” It had been a while since the lass had seen someone this strong within the manor. “Mine apologies, Sir Heathcliff!” Rising from her inaction, the tiny lass opened the door for him, “hark, step out of the way for Sir Heathcliff, please!” She called out, parting a way through the dining hall for her newfound companion. When they made it through, she slowed to his pace, returning to his side after running around to ensure he’d have a safe trip.
“Oi,” his eyes shot down to her, “why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?” Her pupils were gigantic, as if she were staring at something she absolutely adored.
“Because thou art like the grandest of Fixers!” Fuck, why did he ask? “Thy strength would surely befit a Color! Pray tell, Sir Heathcliff,” what he wouldn’t give to be able to enter his room and lock the door right now. “Hath thou heard of Sir Red Gaze’s exploits?”
That name would never ring a bell. He had no reasons, none at all, to even care for Fixers. Which was why he hated his truthful tongue. “Never,” however, he couldn’t say that the look of absolute bewilderment wasn’t amusing.
“Never!?” But her shrill voice wasn’t. “But how? Sir Red Gaze is very well known!”
“Clearly not enough,” Heathcliff muttered, making the lass frown…and, funnily enough, begin to cry. Why the Hell was such a kid like her even here in the first place? Was she born into this? “Though I ‘spose it makes sense,” he felt horrible about making the lass who saw only good in him cry.
“What doth thou mean?”
“I was raised like a wretch, lass,” try as he may, he couldn’t help but frown. “Whenever my nanny wasn’t ’round, I was bein’ beat up n’ treated like shit.” Yeah, Nelly was definitely the reason why he chose this job, “if not for her, I’d be dead in some backstreets without a second thought.” The reason he even left the Dead Rabbits in the first place was because he got in trouble with some Kurokumo thugs and nearly died. Figured he’d take it easy and write to Nelly here and there to let her know he was safe. Oh Wings. He was not an early morning person.
“Oh…Sir Heathcliff,” a rather tough hand was placed upon his shoulder, “I did not know thou were raised in such deplorable conditions. And for that I apologize,” Heathcliff laughed, though it was filled with thorns.
“‘S fine lass, no need to apologize for somethin’ you weren’t around for.” He had ruined the mood rather swiftly, hadn’t he? “Say, tell me more about this…Red Gaze guy, yeah?” He had nearly forgotten the name since he tuned her out a bit.
“Ah! Yes,” to turn her mood so quickly, how flippant. “Sir Red Gaze is one of the most honorable Colors that defend this city of ours!” Why did the girl like Fixers this much? “Thou do not know, but Sir Gaze supported an orphanage with his income once!” That did sound rather amicable…until the ‘once’ part. What, did he just stop giving them money because he felt like it? “Thou look unimpressed…well no matter, for his orange hot Gladius can tear through the toughest enemies without a single issue! ‘Tis true, after all the rumor about him raiding the evil Ring,” ah, he was familiar with them at least. After all, Matthew talked about joining them before Heathcliff left…maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to return to the Dead Rabbits after this. “They say he defeated a Maestro with one hand tied behind his back! And that he wore a coat of blood!”
Now this was getting downright silly. Someone she talked about with such pride wouldn’t even think of showboating like that. Nor did Heathcliff know of any weapons or armor that could solidify blood to wear. Poor lass was delusional…which sort of made sense. After all only the delusional would choose to be a Butler, and it seemed that by her praise for Fixers, she chose to be a Butler. “Wow,” he tried his hardest to feign amusement, but his dry tone was a direct indicator that he couldn’t care less. “He sounds cool,” those sparkles in her eyes were the only reason he egged her on. It was rather cute to see someone so hopelessly happy.
As they climbed the stairs, Heathcliff half expected those Butlers guarding them to stop the duo. But the silver platter was an indicator that he was supposed to go up. Without it he’d probably be pummeled until he gave up and went back down or died. “Hath thou heard of the Black Silence?” She tried to strike up a conversation once more, figuring they had enough time before they reached their Lady’s room to get it in.
“Actually yeah,” this part wasn’t a lie, he remembered Hindley speaking of the gal once, maybe twice. It was the day he was supposed to retrieve his violin so Mr. Earnshaw instructed Heathcliff to tag along and see the backstreets along with a few Butlers. That was the only time he remembered Hindley having a pleasant expression, looking right at a poster of a woman with white hair and black gloves. “She was killed, right?”
“Yes…” Don sullenly spoke, “but another took up her mantle after the incident with the Pianist.” Oh, he di-why the hell was he getting interested? He couldn’t give two shites about a Fixer lineage. “He went on a rampage after that, destroying a majority of the Middle and even the Rumanos Cartel, which were a part of the Thumb.” Okay, well that did sound rather cool. Maybe Heathcliff judged her a bit too quick. “And no-one knows what he looks like because of the mask he wore. Some say that he entered the Library,” and there went that coolness factor. “Only to never return. Some say he perished, others believe he remains there,” what, reading books? “I believe that he hath bested the evil that lived inside before displacing the Library into the Outskirts where he resides. Guarding the knowledge from any evil fellow looking to take advantage over it.”
“Lass, ‘s just a Library,” Heathcliff got a look like he was insane before it devolved immediately into a look of knowing.
“Sir Heathcliff, hath thou heard of the great Invitation Plague that swept the city a few years ago?” No, obviously not, but a few years ago one of the Dead Rabbits did suddenly disappear…if that had any correlation. “Ah, the Library was within the fallen L. Corp’s Nest, and they sent out invitations to Fixers, Associations, and Syndicates alike, defeating each without them being heard from again. For example, Lady Xiao of the Liu Association had been invited there only to be defeated…supposedly. After all she hath not been heard from since.”
And here Heathcliff thought it was some normal library…what a dumbass he was. Wow…he really did deserve that title, didn’t he? “Ah, prithee Sir Heathcliff, where art thou going?” Don asked after coming to a stop, “the Lady is through this door.”
“Ah, my bad lass,” he turned tail and came to her, “got too caught up in yer story.” Which wasn’t even remotely a lie, it was the most interesting thing he heard out of her yet. Maybe he’d stop tuning her out when she went on a tangent…maybe.
She cleared her throat and knocked upon the door, “my Lady? May Sir Heathcliff and I come in?”
After a few moments, a voice called out to them, “you may.” It was soft like the nicest dream, and sounded sweeter than honey. Opening the white door, Don walked inside first with a bow, holding it open for Heathcliff as he stepped into the dark room. How the hell could she see in here, let alone walk without crashing into anything? Hmm…he thought about it for a moment, after all he’d never seen her in two months. You’d think she’d come down at least once, maybe even twice. But no, she was too stuck up to leave the second floor, maybe even her room since all of these meals went straight upstairs.
“Sir Heathcliff, do place the tray here,” Don had pulled out a rolling table and pushed it towards him. For the first time since grabbing the damn thing, Heathcliff put it down, allowing his muscles to recognize how exhausted they were. Now she rolled it back, placing it as close to the bedridden lady as possible. Her room was gigantic, allowing her equally gigantic bed to fit within. In all four of its corners were dark wooden posts, intricately carved with designs of waves at both the base and the upper part that held the purple satin curtains. To his left was a large window that blocked out all light due to the hefty curtains covering it. Since he saw the building two months ago, he was certain that there was a door that led out to the front where the telescope was positioned.
If she were bedridden, then she must’ve inherited this manor from her parents. Lucky bird. All Heathcliff inherited was the sense that he never belonged anywhere. “Doth thou wish for anything else, my Lady?” Don’s voice broke his trance, allowing his eyes to settle back on her instead of stewing grime in his mind. The bird shook her head, she wasn’t even kind enough to use words? Gah…of course he’d chosen to be a Butler for some uncaring posh bastard. He had that sick sort of attraction didn’t he? “Well, then shall we go back to have our breakfast, Sir Heathcliff?” Her normal exuberance was there, but not the energy. She didn’t dare raise her voice in the vicinity of her fair Lady. With a nod, Heathcliff waited for Don before walking towards the door by her side.
“Wait,” they both turned at her sudden interjection, “you may go, Don Quixote. Sir Heathcliff,” her hand pointed at a spot beside the table, “do come here.” Ah crap. Had Outis voiced her gripes with him? Wait, crap? Didn’t he want his contract to be voided?
When the door closed, Heathcliff walked to the spot as instructed. “Yes, my Lady?”
“No manners?” She asked; snobby bastard.
“Yes,” he bowed at a 40 degree angle as was taught to him as a child, “what is it you require, my…” if not for her snickering, then Heathcliff would’ve carried it out. But no, this snickering bird quickly got on his nerves, finding just how easy it was to push his buttons.
“Haah,” she sighed, “you must be wondering why I’m laughing.” Oh, was it that obvious? He couldn’t tell. “It is because you are the most polite Butler I’ve ever had in my room.” Huh…really? “You don’t speak unless spoken to, you bow at the right angle, and you even stray your gaze from me.” Of course, he was only doing what Nelly instructed him to do when he first met the Edgars. Was all of this really that ingrained into him?
“It is only the right thing to do, my Lady,” for a first impression this was similar to Linton. An oppressive attitude that made Heathcliff fill with hatred, much like whenever Hindley was around.
“Haah,” she sighed, looking into his violet eyes with her yellow orbs. They reminded him of the sun hanging high in the sky right now. And her hair reminded him of a distant sunset he chased with someone else. They ran through the fields of Heath when he was younger, attempting to catch the sunset before it sank into the sea. What a futile, childlike endeavor…it was one of his fondest memories. “Say, Heathcliff, was it?” He nodded, “you were supposed to remain still, not give me an answer.” Right, how forgetful of him. An eye twitched in anger as fists clenched behind his back, “anyway, do you like fruit?” She laughed, “of course you should, anyone in their right mind would.” He hadn’t answered her yet, “but, what’s your favorite?” He cocked his head to the side, “when I first meet my Butler’s I ask simple questions so I can get to know them. Unless,” she sat up, allowing more of her long flowing locks to be exposed to the air, “you don’t care to know your Lady any better?”
“Ah, my apologies,” he really hated lookin’ at her mug right now, so he bowed instead. “If I were to have a favorite, it would be an orange.”
“And why would that be?” A game of 20 questions with a posh bastard that probably had enough Ahn to level a tiny Syndicate with the power of the Thumb. Delightful .
Haah…he never really thought about a reason other than his memories with them. But even those were just as bitter as the oranges he bit into…wait. “Because of how sour they are,” she scrunched her nose, as if disgusted by it.
“Not because they’re sweet?” He shook his head, “you are an odd one, Heathcliff. All the Butlers answered that way, and I would as well. After all, what is life but the pursuit of sweet things?” Oh of course it would be, what a spoiled fuck. “Sweet foods, sweet memories…sweet company.”
“Survivin’ ain’t meant to be sweet,” ah, he forgot who’s presence he was in. The Lady of the-yeah he didn’t really care at this point. Her overly indulgent, airheaded way of living made him sick to his core.
“No, I suppose not,” she…agreed? What nonsense, “but do you not wish for a sweet life? Would you truly wish for harrowing experiences over kind ones, Heathcliff?” He…couldn’t answer at the moment. After all he did appreciate the bad because it made him as strong as he was today. But it also made him just as withdrawn, just as cynical. “I suppose you don’t know?” Yep…he couldn’t say he wished for worse, but he definitely didn’t deserve better. “Well then I’ll give you an answer,” she sat all the way up, exposing her bare shoulders and the rest of a lacy white dress she wore. There wasn’t a flaw within that pale skin of hers, perfectly smooth and probably just as soft. “You would rather the sweet. For you’ve had enough of the bad, enough to fill your stomach with too much bile.” An inquisitive gaze looked into him, “am I wrong?”
“Yes,” Heathcliff didn’t want to disagree with her just to disagree. He actually had a reason to say this. “If I experience only sweet nothings, then I’ll grow complacent, never expecting anything bad to happen to me. And when something does,” Heathcliff was confident in this, “my heart will break.” It was fragile as is, enough for a simple betrayal to shatter it for good.
The Lady stared at him, as if inwardly chiding his cynical thinking. “That…is well thought out, Heathcliff.” Oh? The only one to ever compliment his intuition was Nelly, who spurred him on to be a detective of some sort. Sorry, Nelly, I’m just like you I suppose. “You are quite a fun person to talk to, Heathcliff,” Isabella said that as well…but that girl wanted him to be her doll and hers alone. That was the only part about that girl he didn’t like, the demented rich part. Perhaps this was the same case, just a different broad. “I do hope you choose to remain at this manor, it would be a shame for me to let you go because you dislike it here.”
“Ah…” so Outis had snitched on him, “you knew?”
“Of course, Miss Outis has told me that you’re acting like crap on purpose so that your contract would be ripped up.” He…had said that word for word one night, didn’t he. He got ten lashes for that one…and it was worth it. Shit, maybe he was a S.F. as Ryoushuu said…damnit. “If, after a month of coming to my side, you still wish for that, then I shall oblige.” Did…no, he didn’t hear that right. No way he was offered a way out. “After all, a good family to be with will surely change your mind.”
“You…can’t be serious…” he muttered, watching as the woman reached over to her nightstand. File upon file filled the cabinet.
“Earnshaw, Heathcliff,” she pulled out the file and subsequently his contract, showing the original right to him. “In a month, if you still hate it here, I shall rip this up and let you leave Drowning Steppes.” She raised an eyebrow, “unless you want to tell me you’ve already decided against it? After all, you seemed quite happy to listen to Donqui’s ramblings outside.” She smirked, knowing that Heathcliff was wondering just how she knew. “Did you forget how quiet this floor is without the Butlers roaming?” Right.
“No…please leave the offer open,” she frowned a little bit, but sighed regardless.
“Very well, Heathcliff,” she put the file back in its place. If he really hated it here, then he could just sneak up here and burn them all if he wanted. “I will not force a bird to remain in a home it treats as a cage. I just hope that you’ll remain here when the time comes,” there was an unknown look in her eyes. “I shall eat my breakfast in peace, you are permitted to leave, Heathcliff.” So, with one final bow, Heathcliff turned around and exited the room. A hollow, quiet laugh left him, of course she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. No-one would be able to.
When he returned to the dining hall, everything was as he left it. The plate was still there, same with Ryoushuu, who was rapidly rapping her foot against the ground while glaring. It seemed that as recompense for tearing his hair out, she forced herself away from her cigarettes…which landed her in this annoyed state. That and Don Quixote sitting beside his plate probably didn’t help. “Ah, Sir Heathcliff hath returned!” Her shrill voice made Ryoushuu slam the table with a fist.
So, the second in command walked up to him, “N.D.M.S.A.H.A.” Lighting up the half used one, Ryoushuu smiled pleasantly while releasing a puff in his face. “F.Y.”
What a pleasant gift. “You coulda just left when the lass arrived,” Ryoushuu shook her head. “Why not? Something to tell me?”
“B.B. permitted your departure Saturday,” damn, that Lady of theirs really did pull strings like a puppeteer didn’t she?
“Oh! May I come as well?!” When didn’t she go with Ryoushuu? “I’d like to visit the backstreets with Sir Heathcliff!” Don Quixote shouted, all while half of a pancake was in her mouth.
“If, because of you, she gets on my nerves, I will kill you,” Ryoushuu’s glare was the last thing he saw from her that morning. But he wondered one thing. Why not the one causing the disturbance? Why’d he have to suffer on another’s behalf?
Heathcliff sighed as he took his seat, knowing that this nonsensical gal would talk his ear off. “So, Sir Heathcliff, how was thine conversation with our Lady? Enlightening ‘twas it not?”
Picking up the spoon of egg, he shoveled it into his mouth. Cold…crap. “How is a question about fruit enlightening to you?” If what she said were true, then it was more likely than not that she was asked it as her first question as well.
“Thou found none of the conversation enlightening or even amusing, Sir Heathcliff?” He shook his head, causing her to gasp, “how?! Doth her words bore you?”
“Yes,” he snapped the charred bacon off into his mouth. Cold…damnit.
“Are you just saying that because Lady Ryoushuu required you to assist me? In turn making your food unappetizing?” This loon could really think like that? She could be smart? How?! “Well,” she shifted her plate between them, “I do not know if thou like pancakes drenched in syrup…but I hope it is to your liking, Sir Heathcliff.”
Haah…damn this girl, “‘s alright, I’m good as is.” A look of concern washed over her face, but she couldn’t speak as a result of Heathcliff’s genuine smile. “Really. You don’t need to share your food with me, Don Quixote.” He wasn’t sure if he should be calling her by her nickname in the first place.
“Call me Donqui, everyone does,” she smiled as well, “but art thou sure? These pancakes are quite delicious~” since she put it like that…
“You won’t take no for an answer, will you?” Her coy smile made Heathcliff sigh, “fine then, g-” he nearly choked when the fork full of pancake entered his mouth without a damn warning. “Lass…” Heathcliff glowered at the girl, “never do that again.”
“Right…” she looked down at her plate, face red with shame, “my apologies Sir Heathcliff.” Damnit, he could even taste blood. Did she really have to act like the damn thing was one of the knives they trained with to protect the Lady of the manor? “Is it to your liking?”
“No,” he wasn’t a fan of one sided sweetness, especially when the thing was slathered with too much syrup. Seriously, why the hell did she need so much? “‘S warm though,” somehow, her pancakes were warm, as if she just got them freshly served. “These fresh?”
She shook her head, which was the first mistake. The second was explaining why. “‘Tis because Lady Faust allows anyone…carrying food up to the Lady…to put their plate under a heater…” As she continued her sentence she watched the vein on Heathcliff’s forehead bulge more and more. “Sir Heathcliff, thine head is about to burst.”
“Oh yeah, I know, same with that damn smoker’s head.” The real reason she was annoyed by Don wasn’t because she was going on about Fixers. No, the lass definitely knew better. It was because she would unknowingly rat her out for not telling Heathcliff about keeping his food warm. She got revenge for not being able to finish off her cigarette. Well played. Well fucking played. “Oh Ryoushuu you are gonna be so fucked for ruining my breakfast.” A sinister laugh left the man, which scared Don a little bit.
“What are you going to do?”
“Teach her a lesson,” with how vague it was, Don was scared for the woman.
When noon came around, Heathcliff had taught her a lesson alright. He taught her just who the better fighter was. Especially when her blade stopped just short of his heart, “H.L.” She snickered, “B.T.W. don’t tell Donqui things.”
“Yeah,” Heathcliff was pushed onto his back, “shoulda figured.” He looked to his right where she nervously waved her fingers. “Haah…” his head lazily slammed against the ground, “why the hell didn’t you tell me to keep my food warm?”
“Why the hell did you tell me to stop smoking?” Ryoushuu asked, copying Heathcliff’s motif.
“Because I was eatin’ you crazy fuck!” He shouted, garnering a few looks from others in the training hall.
“And I was smoking you D.F.” Heathcliff sighed, this was going to go on like this forever and he didn’t have the energy to continue this spite. “No hard feelings?” Ryoushuu being the one willing to patch things first was reasonable, same with not smoking at a table during breakfast.
“Yeah,” he sat up, “no hard feelings…” he sighed, before a hand entered his vision. “Thanks,” grabbing onto his forearm Ryoushuu lifted the man up.
“Hey, know why the hell you suck at fighting?” Heathcliff raised his eyebrow, “because you’re holding your knife like a bat.” It was the reason why she had easily parried every wild strike and knocked it out of his hand. “Why?”
“I guess it’s because I was a professional wrecker,” nobody in their right mind would know that meant he was a syndicate dog. Which was why Ryoushuu laughed, if anyone were to know what he meant it would be her wouldn’t it. Freaky bird.
“Really?” She teased, “you? Mister Can’t Hold a Knife Right? Pfft,” her laughter was making him blush a tad.
“Oi, you shoulda seen how fast I could cave a…” Don wouldn’t think of him as anything less than a beast if he spoke the entire truth. “Wall in. Faster than you could blink yer damn eyes!”
“Oh? Well then how about we have a duel Sunday, after you buy one?” That…heh, she didn’t know what she was getting herself into.
“You’re on,” Heathcliff’s teeth were shimmering, “and you’re gonna lose!” Boasting before it even began, just how blindly confident was he?
“A.I.K.A.B.T.S.B.” Ryoushuu was certain that if it were a real fight and not some mock training, then Heathcliff would be sliced down in moments. Maybe he’d make for a decent art piece then.
In her distant expression, Heathcliff could see that bloodlust was at the forefront of her mind. Maybe it was a mistake to challenge her. Maybe it was an attempt to psyche him out. Maybe he wouldn’t get psyched out. Yeah! Maybe he’d go out into the backstreets and get his damn bat back then cave her damn skull in. Yeah! Maybe not that far, but still. Yeah!