Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Sept 3, 2012 16:44:13 GMT -5
The baby was crying again. Because the nurse was back in the carriage, Francis' mother had to appease the weeping bundle in her arms. The warm, mouthwatering scents and displays of the bakery could not pacify his sister, but it was heaven in Francis' eight-year-old heart. It was such a treat to be in an actual bakery instead of ordering desserts or watching his family baker in the manor kitchens.
Standing on his very tip-toes in the graceful way his dancing master taught him, Francis peered into the two-year-old's tear-streaked face. "Shh, little angel, don't cry! Look, cream sponge cakes! Aren't those your favorite?"
The little girl quietened, blinking up at Francis. Francis' mother smiled gratefully, and his father nudged him encouragingly toward the row of pie slices by the window.
Francis did not need telling twice. He immediately skipped to the display, clapping his hands in delight. So much to choose from! Cherry pie, chocolate pie, apple pie...
He paused, surprised when he met a pair of huge green eyes. But they didn't seem to be focused on him, even though he was wearing his best coat, the one with the lace collar and pink and blue ribbons. No, the boy who had those eyes was tiny and bony, which was a stark contrast to his round, plump cheeks. He also happened to be smeared with dirt all over, from his oversized, tattered shirt to his skin.
Blinking, Francis pressed his nose to the glass in front of the boy for a closer look.
Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Sept 6, 2012 18:00:51 GMT -5
He was a little wary being near the baker's when the baker himself had tried to run him out after finding the boy scrounging in his bins, but he couldn't help himself stand in front of the windows sometimes, staring at all the cakes, he liked to imagine what it would be like to try one...
He held himself tightly. It was quite cold outside and all Arthur wore was some thin layer of clothing. He can feel the heat radiating from the baker's and Arthur sniffles, wiping at his eyes roughly.
He freezes when he realises there are a pair of eyes gazing at him, blinking before stepping back a little. He glances curiously, but after a moment or two he steps tentatively nearer, reaching a finger to poke at the glass and the kid behind it --
Only to for his five-year old self to be bowled over by one of the street-gangs, pushed onto the floor. No one helps him up, just the kids turning around and sneering at him with some foul mouthed words.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Sept 6, 2012 19:55:36 GMT -5
Francis began to preen just when the boy finally looked at him, but the commotion outside startled him into jumping back. In the wake of the stampeding boys was the little one, huddled on the ground with a stricken expression.
Francis' eyes widened. He had never seen such a display of rudeness before! And from young boys too! He would have liked to lecture them on proper etiquette - which did not involve shoving smaller boys to the ground like savages, thank you very much - but they were gone.
Huffing, Francis was about to run out of the bakery when he heard his mother call, "Oh dear, this isn't the sort of neighborhood we should be lingering in! Francis, do hurry up and choose your tasties, we need to go home."
Francis paused. He couldn't just leave the boy miserable! It would not be nice at all. He frowned. What would be nice? His eye caught the pie slices the boy had been staring at earlier. He suddenly had a wonderful idea.
Glancing pointedly at the boy outside the window, he chose the apple pie slice. He grinned as he skipped off to his father with it, who raised an eyebrow but immediately paid for the pastry.
Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Sept 8, 2012 17:02:04 GMT -5
Arthur wasn't paying attention to the boy anymore. He was too busy whimpering, looking in the window to see if the owner would run out and hit him for causing a commotion outside his shop and potentially scaring away customers.
After seeing no such thing, Arthur slides down against the outside of the shop and curls him, sniffling to himself. He hated those kids. One day he'd grow big and strong and show them who was boss. He would.
Bringing his knees up to his chest, his stomach growls. He hadn't eaten in 2 days.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Sept 8, 2012 17:18:37 GMT -5
Francis clapped his hands in delight as he watched the baker wrap the pie slice in a cloth bundle, lovingly folding and knotting the ends together. Francis had also chosen a set of sponge cakes for his sister, who had an even sweeter tooth than he did.
When the two bundles were set before him, warm and paid for, Francis looked up at his father with big, pleading eyes.
"May I please hold my pie, Papa?" He clasped his hands together, the perfect picture of an innocent plea.
His father, amused and moved in equal parts, allowed him to, then led them out of the bakery. But the boy was now nowhere to be seen. Francis scanned the street, but no sign.
His parents were already climbing into the carriage when he heard a sniffle. Turning to look, he spotted the little boy tucked in the darker corner of the bakery building.
"Mama, Papa, please wait for me! I won't be long!" Francis called to them before spinning on his heel to run.
He skidded to a stop before the little boy, crouching to his level. "Hello!" Glowing with excitement, he pushed the bundle into the boy's hands. "Here, this is yours. And you can even use the wrapping as a cloak, it's quite long. Just don't let anyone see you with it, it's special and only for you, all right?"
Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Sept 8, 2012 17:22:30 GMT -5
Arthur looks one part suspicious and three parts terrified. He isn't quite sure how to respond to it. He just blinks wide eyed up at the boy, looking down at the wrapping, then back up at the boy, then back to the wrapping....
Arthur tears up, and doesn't dare look up again. He gives a slow nod, starting to cry.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Sept 8, 2012 17:43:10 GMT -5
Francis giggled in glee. "Splendid!" It was the word his father would say whenever he was pleased about something. Francis felt very grown-up saying it for the first time. He could see it now: he would be the grown-up in this friendship, the big brother, and this boy would adore and imitate him and they would play together.
"I live in the big brown house with the nice white windows." He informed the little boy, smiling widely and turning away. "Don't take too long!"
He waved jauntily as he skipped off, finally heeding his parents' calls.