I tilt my head, my pinkies twined behind my back whilst I try to figure out whether I like the monstrosity on the canvas in front of me.
See, it could look awfully ugly. A mesh of blues and blacks that could look like I've genuinely scooped up paint and smacked it onto the surface. But if I tilt my head just right, it could resemble a sky.
Ugly blob of blue? Or sky?
I bounce gently from the heels of my bare feet to my toes. A gentle warm breeze glides against my silk shorts.
I like mornings and I wanted to catch the sunrise.
"What'd you think, Ripley?" I look over to my girl and then to my other one, "Leia?"
My ginger hamster, Ripley does nothing but stare up at me from inside her cage, blinking. I nod flatly at her stoicism, "Sweet."
I look to Leia, my sphynx cat who is as grumpy as ever. She's not the prettiest girl but she's mine and I adore her where she lays curled up within herself on the windowsill.
She mewls and then promptly stands up, turns so her back is to me and lays back down.
The room starts to glow with the mellow orange from the sunrise so I pick up the canvas, setting it besides all my other half-finished ones that I've deemed okay enough. I sit myself up onto the small windowsill and lift up Leia.
She may be grumpy but she's got a little softspot for me. An absolute sucker for cuddles so when I set her in my lap, she curls up against me as I scratch behind her ears.
Leia rests her paws on my stomach and looks right up to me. I smile and kiss her head, "Hey, girl. You're glowing. Sun looks great on you."
She yawns. I take that as a thank you and lift her up to cradle, "I wanna rewatch the first season of Battlestar Galactica tonight. You gotta keep me company."
When she yawns again, I grin. Cos that's definitely a yes. None of my brothers like it and Leia likes to sit on my stomach whilst I commentate. On occasion. I'm not a crazy person. I just have a lot of thoughts and a mouth that needs to let them out sometimes.
"My most loyal companion." I scratch behind her ears. Look at her. I don't get how people can think she's only grumpy.
I look back out to the view and there's one prevalent thing. The quiet. No bustle disrupting nature's, like the world's stopped to accommodate the sunrise. It's why I've always liked sunrises. It feels sort of disrespectful being asleep whilst it makes its return. Pretty enough to be gawked at, not ignored.
Mom doesn't like that theory but dad did.
I remember father telling me the story of Amory Mansion, one morning when we'd laid out a blanket right at the front of the gardens to watch the sunrise.
My great grandfather flew over designated artists and architects from around the world, appointing them to the job all those years ago. French, swiss, german - there's a photograph of the renowned team that had designed Amory Manor. They'd created a beauty unparalleled, which was my grandfather's ultimate desire.
Amory Manor's more of an art piece, than a home.
And this is the only room in all of Amory Manor that's cramped.
Sitting on the highest floor, it overlooks the small pond that's also quite hidden. Algae grows over it, pillars surround it, ivy crawling up their sides and a distance away, a gazebo sits placidly on a platform.
This little pond around the back and behind a curve of the house, nobody sees. I like it for the fact it's overlooked but still glows under the sun. Forgotten but still manages to catch someone's eye, even if it's just mine.
Ripley and Leia like it too. I lug up Ripley's cage with Leia following my feet every morning for sunrises. They're used to it.
The slim and tiny room itself is where I paint. Easels and brushes and flecks of paint all over the walls. Not much room for anything else. Half-finished paintings lay scattered between rough sketches that I ripped from notebooks.
Messy. The only place where I can be a little messy.
I shut my eyes and breathe in the air from the open windows, sun gleaming onto the small lake. A moment, just a moment.
Once the sun's comfortable in the sky, I kiss Leia and rest her back in her spot. I look to a blank canvas and debate whether I start a fresh piece or perfect other ones. Shrugging, I lift up the large blank canvas, working on a new one.
I'm not a good painter, at all. But it's calming so I took it up. The hour passes by swiftly until the manor starts waking up and distantly, I hear Ruth calling. Tossing my supplies on the table, I make my way out.
With Ripley's cage under one arm and my sphinx curled up in my other, I do my best to tiptoe down the sunlit halls and staircases before Ruth can reach me. I'm not supposed to be awake and we secretly play this game every day. Beating the other.
I smile when I reach my room and don't see her, awkwardly attempting to use my pinky to open the door to my bedroom-
Someone clears their throat.
I almost drop my cat.
"Ruth!" I gasp at the same time she scolds, "Violet."
"You could've made me kill Leia." I look up at her accusingly, blowing the hair off my face with one leg in the air to rest Ripley's cage atop it.
That's a lie. I have a pretty good theory that my cat's immortal.
I also have a theory that Ruth's actually supernatural. Or she's just deathly silent. Someone's gotta get a bell on this woman. Or a loud speaker, alerting everyone of her presence.
She looks me up and down, my unusual position and snips bitterly, "One would think you're a zookeeper. Not a mogul's daughter."
"One would think you're a ghost. One also normally announces their arrival. What if I'd stood on her paw?" I do my best not to drop my girls, knowing I look stupid.
"I told you when you brought it home. That thing looks more like a wrinkled monstrosity than a cat." She says pompously, proud of herself now, "Where were you?"
"With my monstrosity." I hold Leia close to my chest and lift my chin, "And unless you want me to unleash her, in all her wrinkled glory, I suggest you be nicer to Leia."
We stare-down for a second. She's a tall woman, all hard lines and sharp glares but beautiful. Ink black hair and dark blue eyes to compliment them.
She's also as familiar to me as anybody. She's watched me grown up, scolded me like a mother and patched up my cuts. Ruth's the caretaker pretty much and has been there for my older brother's childhoods also.
Doesn't take away from the fact she's a meanie and her cold heart could probably survive in sub zero temperatures.
I'm exaggerating.
She doesn't even blink, "You look like a horrid mess."
Never mind.
I try to straighten up, knowing I hadn't really brushed my hair and frown, "It's seven in the morning."
"You still look like a mess." She says dryly, standing tall above me in all her confident glory.
I manage to grasp a hold of my doorknob, twisting it and sending a tight smile to Ruth as acknowledgement for her great help. I slip inside and kick the door shut behind me.
"Breakfast. Don't be late." She says from behind the door and I hear her heels click as she turns down the hall. I set Ripley's cage atop my dresser and keep Leia in my arms, leaning back against the door for a moment.
Leia looks up at me.
"You could try and look less like you hate my guts." I quietly say down to her, kissing her head.
I swear she scowls. I smile and nuzzle her closer to me when she doesn't fight it.
I step further into my room, a gentle breeze drifting through the silk curtains and ruffling my bed canopy also. It's a large room, often making me feel smaller than I'd prefer but there's things to like.
My TV's a prized possession but more because of the shelves under it full of my VHS tapes. If the house was burning, those cassette stacks would be the first thing I'd grab.
I look at them, stacked on their sides and feel a tug at my heart. Dad. They'll always, only remind me of dad.
Raps on the door startle me.
I walk over and open up the door, already smiling before I spot my youngest brother. He stands in his uniform and doesn't seem content about it, blonde hair a little ruffled.
"Hey, Az." I instinctively reach for his tie.
"My tie doesn't need to be at a 90 degree angle. By all means," He stops me bluntly, "Do you want me to fetch you a protractor?" His sharp green eyes shine bright from the sunlight filtering in through the silk curtains.
I bite back a smile, "I don't need your sharpness today."
"Do you always prefer for children to not go by their nature?" His tone is as flat as it always is, looking around my room, "Stifling my sharpness could be detrimental-"
"Shut it." I shove his shoulder and his smile rises just the slightest.
Az never really grins. Nor does he laugh heartily. Always the slightest, controlled smiles as if that measure is a part of him. As if his smile is a secret he likes to keep to himself, much like the rest of him.
My youngest brother, out of the three, is ten years old and could easily outsmart somebody with decades on him. A precocity and wit that only Azure Amory has ever been able to bear so well. With a harshness that can easily intimidate.
Once he could form words, he was reading more novels than me. By six, he had taken up learning languages. By seven, he could make grown men cower in Portuguese, French and Arabic.
Yes. He's ten. And is unapologetically himself, to anyone who wants to try and change him.
A book is slot under his arm as it always is and within a minute, he's deducing me. He does his signature slight head tilt. The I'm analysing your every movement sort.
A second later and he states bluntly, no crack in his mask, "You're having panic attacks again."
I flush from head to toe. He never asks.
I stand and walk towards my bed, sitting on the edge of it as he lurks there, "No."
"You're upset."
I look away.
He sighs and says like he's bored, "Paint on your fingers. You've only ever painted under duress and since you haven't come in contact with our dearest mother today, I assume you had a panic attack."
"Have you been down for breakfast yet?" I set Leia down on my bed.
"If you're to change the subject, that's okay. I'd just like to know if you're going to pass out." He states with complete non chalance and I flush again.
"My panic attacks aren't that bad anymore." I mumble.
He just raises one eyebrow. Somehow, from Az, it's like a whole accusation and point proven in one. I look away from him and pretend like I'm absolutely enamoured by the sunlight coming in through the window, "You know what happens when you keep Sage waiting."
I can see he grows bored by my non-chalance. But he also understands I'm not going to talk about it so waves me off.
He digs his hands in the pockets of his shorts and says, "I do miss seeing your paintings. Like I miss seeing you dance."
My eyes snap up to him but he's walking away before I can say anything, down the halls. Dance is a memory now, when once it consumed my life. It takes a lot to interest Az but there was never a moment when I danced, where he looked bored.
I walk towards my bathroom, letting the shower heat up. I pick out one of my usual outfits: short, white tennis skirt and a pale green cashmere sweater, half tucked.
Once I've cleaned up and wrung my hair out, I get into my outfit, pull on my tennis shoes and slip all my textbooks in my tote bag.
Like every morning since I was a kid, I make it to the outside patio where breakfast takes place. Spring sunlight dapples between the olive trees and Amory Gardens smells replenished, fresh: our grounds that go as far back as anyone can see. It's a pleasant sight every morning.
"Morning." I take my seat besides Az and Grayson.
"You took your time." Sage doesn't look up from where he sits at the head of the table, on his phone.
Ruth appears and sets a plate of apple tarts in the centre of the table. She grumbles, "Scrubbing paint off her unshapely fingers."
Unshapely- how can fingers be unshapely? I look down at my slim fingers. Is there a certain freaking guideline I don't fit, Ruth?
I turn back to the table and smile awkwardly when Sage lifts his gaze, unimpressed.
"I didn't get any on Leia this time." I say and smile but Sage just looks more unimpressed at the mention of my cat. He's not a fan, "Or Ripley."
His face twists more. He hates my hamster more.
"Or myself." I try to rectify, "Asides from my fingers. A little."
Sage keeps his blank gaze on me for just a moment before looking away. He has a perfect way of making me feel insignificant but it's always this; I try to impress him and end up looking like an idiot and I can see that he just dismisses me more each time.
I look down at my fingers and try to figure out if they're actually unshapely.
I look down to the spread. I can never really eat well this early in the morning so I just top up a glass of water and busy myself with circling the rim with my fingers instead of focusing on my family as they talk.
I tune out their conversations a lot of the time. Sue me but profit margins and taxes are possibly the most boring thing on the face of the planet. And with a family as financially...accomplished, it tends to be the central theme.
"I don't think they have any false motives. If anything, they're just money hungry as all of the rest of these fucks." Grayson rolls the sleeves of his white collared shirt to his elbows. He takes a drag of his blunt as Sage next speaks.
"Everybody has false motives, Gray. With the new success, everyone's gonna find a way to get under our ass. Just to throw us off the chair." Sage doesn't let on his distress, if he feels any. Always composed, always serious, "Profits are at an all time high. The academies are as renowned as ever. We're on top, the Delaneys are far from it."
I tense at the mention of them, looking up.
"They've always been far from it." Mother's cold voice chimes in, sunglasses over her eyes and a glass of wine in her hands, "Our handout has been their saving grace."
"For fear of publicity, surely they wouldn't look to undermine us. One call and the world knows our money kept their dumbasses afloat." Grayson shrugs, thick smoke wafting in the air.
"Callous as always." Sage lifts his phone to his ear as if he's listening to a voice message of some sort.
"I like to say proud, big bro." Grayson's lips tip up slightly.
Once they start rattling on about expenses and investments, I turn to Az who sits besides me. I purse my lips, bored with my chin in my hand, "Wanna make a tart tower?"
He sends me a blank look but I can see he's fighting a smile. I pull the plate of apple tarts over to us and he sets the first one down. I set the second one atop it. I breathe in the smell of them, the aromatic apple and sweetness.
My favourite treats ever. I love apple. Anything apple flavoured-
"You're salivating." Az sets the next one atop, "You're not going to gain pounds from an apple tart. If mother doesn't know that, she's more stupid than I thought."
I sigh and open my mouth-
"No calling mother stupid. I get the sentiment." He says flatly before I could.
"It's rude, Az. She's your mom." I say and set the next tart on top, glancing up to make sure she's not paying attention to us.
"I must have forgotten." He deadpans.
He is sweet at heart, trust me. There's just a lot of layers encasing it and even I've never been able to really break through. I wonder if someone ever will. Azure's a complete contrast to Grayson, my second oldest brother.
I watch him as he tilts his head back to blow out the thick smoke. Grayson Amory's crude, prideful and aware of it. At the nightclubs and parties he's always wandering, a lot of high society has labelled him satan's son.
He basks in the richness he was born into because he knows he's entitled to, blonde-brown hair and bright green eyes.
If lipstick's not on his collar, a blunt's sat between his lips. And if he's not arguing with Azure (smartass, as he calls him), he's subtly getting under Sage's skin with how he couldn't care less about most things.
And that leaves the final brother of the three: Sage Amory, the harshest heart of us all. Our stronghold.
My oldest brother's the image of formality. Handsome and proper, just like my other two brothers but with the darkest hair of us all. Having to bear the most weight of reputation since father's death, it's as if I don't know him anymore. Not anyone other than businessman Sage, who's become cruel under burdens.
Who probably doesn't know that Azure's eleventh birthday's approaching or that Grayson's flunking his classes. Who's nobody like the boy that was once my very best friend. But it's not as if we can blame him. He keeps us rich. Keeps us afloat.
And me, I'm Violet, the one with the hamster and wrinkly cat. I don't know how I'd describe myself but on her bad days, mom likes to call me the clingy runt. With a few added curse words in there.
Sometimes I feel like I was born into the wrong family.
Like everyone fits in this opulent manor under our renowned name, except me. The one ignored in important conversations and swept under the rug and just there. The little sister that can barely socialise without becoming a nervous mess.
I'm just everything I'm not supposed to be, in this poised world of mine. It was just how I was born, a little too talkative sometimes. A little too nervous other times. But born into a world where perfection means everything.
I wish there was a higher power to blame. For making me so unfitting to all this but being born into it, no question or choice. Being someone you're not at nature but are unarguably expected to be. It's aggravating. It's my entire life.
It just feels like where my brothers can easily maintain our image, and upkeep reputation like its instinct, I have to work for it. Be conditioned to it. It's always felt like everyone's strolling and I have to run, just to keep up.
At least my name fits. I've got that in the bag.
We're all colours: Sage, Gray, Violet, Azure and my mother, Scarlett who just about manages to walk into the manor without stumbling, for another drink.
To say we're complicated would be a little bit of an understatement.
My brother's icy voice sounds out, "Have you heard from Dean?"
The tart tower falls. I have to bite back the way I want to frown-gasp as all eyes turn to me and Azure. Sage's eyes flit down to the collapsed tarts to prove that wrong. I clear my throat.
I didn't hear the question. I nudge Az.
"Dean." Az subtly whispers.
"Ah, no. Not talked to Dean." I speak up a little too quickly and Sage's gaze narrows.
He looks back down to his phone eventually, "The Delaneys will be over for dinner sometime this week."
Awkwardness settles over everyone at the table. I try to stomach it but I hate it. I hate being spotlighted.
"I don't have to tell you to be on your best behaviour, do I?" The bite to his tone doesn't go unnoticed, ruthless eyes on mine.
Grayson's chews awkwardly slow down. Azure shifts under the quiet, he's never liked silence. My stomach feels like a pit and I don't lift my gaze, circling the top of my glass.
I nod but he snaps before my head can move, "Use your words."
"Yes." I sit up a little, "Of course."
But I try not to show my absolute misery. Anything to do with the Delaneys has an automatic ability of making my mood dampen.
Especially anything to do with Dean Quincey Delaney.
What a boring middle name. Mine's Fawn. I like it okay enough but if I had the choice, I'd pick something cooler. Something that'd make me sound badass because hear me out, you may be totally surprised, I am no badass. Not as much as Sarah Connor from The Terminator. Or Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica. Fake it til you make it, ladies. And gentlemen.
I do what I do best. I push it to the back of my head and smile now, leaning down to Az, "Hey, do you wanna-"
"I'm not entertaining your god awful sci-fi selections, Violet. My head might quite literally implode from the shitty plotlines." He cuts me off.
I practically strain my neck from how much I pull my face back in offence, dead silent. That feels like a direct hit to my personality.
"Yes, it was a direct hit to your personality." Azure so thankfully clears up.
"Okay, Mr Boring." I turn back to sit forwards in my seat and fight back a frown, "Let your ass hurt when you sit in the library like a baby demon for eleven hours each night. Go nuts."
He fights a smile as he makes a show of taking his time picking something up from the spread. I narrow my eyes when he picks up an apple tart. He holds it out, "Oh, did you want some-"
He snatches it just as I reach for it and bites into it, "Demons are unlikely to share."
"Demon baby." I mutter underneath my breath, "I just need to set up cameras in that library and I will catch you sprouting fangs and feeding on corpses."
"Demons don't feed." He says casually, setting the tart down, "They're supernatural entities."
I'd call him Mr Smartass but I already called him Mr Boring and then he'll know I have nothing to say back to that. Plus, Grayson uses that one too much.
Az's lips lift up as he looks forward. It's his favourite pastime and biggest delight - winning.
"Colton's waiting." Ruth appears by the door and that sets us in motion.
I lift my tote bag onto my shoulder and hand Azure his blazer, which he isn't happy about. He hates his private school; he's not the easiest kid to be friends with so most don't stick around and he doesn't encourage them to. At all.
Grayson lifts from his seat and walks over to us. I look up at him as I straighten Az's tie, "Could you put that out?"
"Want a drag?" He raises an eyebrow.
He's smoked a blunt every morning since he was seventeen and nobody really stops him. Because he's Grayson. Does what he wants, rarely ever suffers the consequences. I've always wanted to try it, it looks so tempting.
"No." I retort, "Azure's right there. Keep messing up your own organs, leave ours out of it."
He puts out the blunt on the wall and tosses it somewhere. I peer over him, going to pick it up.
"We pay them for a reason." He spins me around and keeps walking me until we're inside, "Relax, saint."
"Get off me, poodle." I shrug out of his grasp before I fall straight on my face. He's taller and has longer legs which doesn't work well when he's practically shoving me.
He instantly scowls at the nickname and I smile. Mom used to call him it because he had the curliest blonde hair when he was little. Poodle. Growing older, the curls completely fizzled out and the nickname became my defence.
"Told you to stop calling me that shit." He snips and I smile wider, "I don't bring up your misshapen fucking head. Alien."
My smile drops.
From certain angles, I looked like I had a freaking crater on the left side of my head when I was born. Apparently, I didn't want to leave the womb and was yanked out of it.
"Rather an alien than a boring, shaggy dog." I mumble. I prefer cats and aliens are cool. Take that, poodle.
He picks up a flower from one of the vases and flings it at me but I manage to catch it. Turning around to him, I walk backwards, place the stem between my teeth and smile.
Opening the main doors, we're met with the large porch and the marble steps leading down to the long driveway. Amory Gardens centres around the endless path, the gates right at the front in the distance.
Colton, our driver/bodyguard stands besides an Amory Bentley. I don't even bother calling shotgun anymore, Grayson would just yank me out of the seat. I open up the back door for Azure and toss my bag inside, following suite.
"School's a foolish fucking institute." Az snips as Grayson slides in the front and Colton sits in the drivers seat, quiet as he always is.
"Keep swearing." Grayson says from the front, "Might make you less of a boring, stuck-up, stupid smartass."
"Brother," Az feigns shock, "Three adjectives. You flatter me."
"You irritate me."
Az holds up his hands, "Keep working at it. Twenty years old is never too late to finally expand a person's vocabulary."
"Fuck you." Grayson sneers.
Azure's amusement is clear as he turns to look out the window. He might as well be the same age as us. I don't know how he matured so early, it's beyond me.
I turn to look out the tinted windows too, sun gleaming as we roll down the driveway until we reach the gates.
And as the gates groan open and we get further away from the manor, I physically feel myself lighten, like every morning. A step away from here.
School's an escape. If anything, escapes should be my freaking middle name. I feel as if you'll come to find that it's all I revolve around.
a/n
how do you guys like violet? i love her. it's so fun writing such a different character.
hope you liked this one!!!
all my love <3