#at least we can hope he did his best for al and flora and kat

[translaytonblr]

it really truly and honestly sucks that hershel is a bad dad in canon. and you have to wonder how much of that is characterization vs the writing team being like "well this is a normal way to treat girls right?" (flora) or "uhh we need a story for our new game. how can we make our new character's story depend directly on someone else's" (kat) and its honestly sometimes really hard to tell which is which

[101flavoursofweird]

Title: Autumn  Summary: For all the anguish it has brought her, Flora still loves autumn.

Spoilers: For Curious Village, Lost Future, Layton’s Mystery Journey and possible Layton Brothers: Mystery Room.

Characters: Flora-centric with sibling bonding moments between her, Luke, Alfendi and Kat. 

Warnings: Hints of PTSD... and Clive Dove isn’t portrayed in the best light in this fic. (Sorry.) 

(More below the cut since Tumblr seems to have banished links to the Shadow Realm.)

Autumn

When she lived in St Mystere, she used to call it fall, like her Papa did.

Papa wasn’t fond of fall. He always made sure Flora was bundled up in layers before they went out. On rainy days, he preferred for them to stay inside. The only places Flora could play were in the manor or by her Mama’s grave. There, the flowers bloomed all year round— even when it got cold outside.

Ingrid said it was a magic garden.

“A secret magic garden,” Flora whispered.

Sometimes, she felt a bit like Mary Lennox. Mary got sick after her parents died. She moved to an English Manor House, befriended the servants and discovered a secret garden.

Flora had her own secret garden, but she wasn’t sick and her papa wasn’t dead...

She was sat reading behind her mother’s grave when the doctor came to visit. Not even her favorite books could comfort her then.

Matthew found her crying over The Secret Garden. Gently, he took the book from her and wiped its tear-stained pages with his handkerchief.

“This is an old book,” he mumbled. “Old... and yet, timeless.”

He studied the text for a few moments, searching for the right words. His eyes were shiny— or was that just the reflection from his glasses? Flora had never seen Matthew cry.

He sighed. “Don’t worry. We can fix it— the… the book, I mean.”

He dried her eyes and helped her blow her nose. On their way out, Flora picked some red pom-pom flowers (‘Dahlias,’ Matthew called them) for her papa. They wouldn’t last long in a vase. She put them by his bed anyway and he said they were beautiful.

Papa promised it was ‘just a cold’. Flora knew he was lying. If it was a cold, Papa wouldn’t kiss her in case she caught anything. But he kept kissing her head and talking till he got too tried.

This wasn’t something Flora could catch. She could only wait.

Even after her papa died, she kept saying ‘fall’ and so did the villagers.

It was only when she came to London that she learned most people called it ‘autumn’ in Britain. Luke was the one who corrected her.

The two of them had been walking home from school. (She actually went to the girls’ school but Luke liked to meet her on the way home, even more so when the darker evenings crept in.)

Flora’s day had been fine. The other students and the teachers were helping her settle in, but she still had lots of studying to catch up on since she had started late. That meant extra homework and tutoring sessions with the professor.

Flora let her mind wander. She relied on Luke to lead her up a road lined with horse chestnut trees.

“The trees look so pretty in fall...” Their leaves were either orange like the professor’s shirt, or rusty red like robot gears.

“Fall?”

Luke exclamation pulled Flora from her daydream.

“Um, you know... Fall. After summer, when all the leaves fall off the trees.” She pointed at a pile of leaves beside them on the pavement.

“Oh!” Luke kicked up the leaves. “You mean autumn!”

He was showered with leaves and Flora snickered. “Careful, or you’ll get lost in the leaves!”

Laughing, Luke chucked a ball of leaves at her.

She squealed and swept them off her school uniform. (Rosa had ironed it specially for her!)

“Luke!”

He gasped as if he had mortally wounded her. “Sorry! That was a bit rough—“ He got a face full of leaves. “—Ow... I think you threw a conker at me.”

“Conkers!” Crouching, Flora picked up the spiky green shell. She inspected it as a jeweler would an emerald. “Bruno used to make them for me— I mean, put them on a string— and we had conker tournaments. The villagers always let me win, though...”

Everything had seemed so simple back then. She smiled nostalgically the conker shell.

Beside her, she heard leaves crunching. She turned and her eyes widened.

“Bet you’d never beat me.” Luke was on his knees, holding a conker under her nose. “I was the best conker player in Misthallery!”

Flora’s smile became a smirk. “Really? Is that a challenge?”

Her conker would be... unconquerable. She had everything she needed at home: String, glue, a miniature drill she’d ‘borrowed’ from Bruno...

While she planned her conquest, Luke had been stuffing his satchel and coat pockets with conkers. He leapt to his feet and took off like a greedy squirrel. “Bagsie asking the professor for help first!”

What ever happened to ladies first? “Luke, wait up!”

These days, Luke called it ‘fall’. A warm smile enveloped Flora’s face as she read his latest letter. Who was this mysterious girl he couldn’t stop gushing about…?

Her fantasies of Luke’s possible-girlfriend were dashed by the slam of the front door. Her thirteen-year-old brother squelched into the kitchen. He’d been trying to grow his hair out but he currently looked like a drowned rat.

Flora snorted. “Did you forget your brolly?”

“Did you forget you don’t live here anymore?”

Flora didn’t take offence at the extra dose of venom in his voice. School had just started again and it was coming up to that time of year…

“I had a letter from Luke that I wanted to show the professor.” She stretched in her chair and yawned, “Are your joints meant to feel this stiff in your mid-twenties—?” She caught herself when she realised that, oh lord, she sounded like Dahlia. Dahlia would moan whenever her joints needed oiling or her perfect skin needed a polish or the colour was fading from her hair… All while eighty-year-old Bruno toiled away and Flora continued to age.

With age came agency. With each new trial life threw at her, Flora accepted that she couldn’t fuss over the little things.

This was a lesson Alfendi still had yet to learn.

Having ripped off his waterlogged shoes and his backpack, Alfendi raided the fridge.

“I made pasta salad if you want some—“

“Hell, no.”

“Language.” (Kat was out with their father, but still...)

Alfendi groaned, “Who ate all the leftover pizza?”

“Probably Emmy, if she stopped by.”

Alfendi’s scowling face emerged from the fridge. “Not helping.”

“Don’t snap at me just ‘cause you got caught in the rain,” she retorted.

It wasn’t just that, she knew, but she sat in silence as Alfendi fished a soaking, illegible newspaper out of his pocket and held it up to her. “The forecast said it would be dry today. There was only a 35% chance of rain!”

“They can’t always be accurate.”

“Well, they should be!” He pounded the wet paper into a ball and hurled it at the bin. (It landed just next to the bin with a sad ‘plop’.) “Why can’t the weather just make up its bloody mind?” he snarled, swiping wet hair out of his eyes.

The British weather was beyond Flora’s control, but she could at least do something about Alfendi’s hair. “Give me a minute.”

While Alfendi changed into some dry clothes, she nipped up to Kat’s room to grab a brush and a pink bag of hair accessories.

“This is a waste of time,” Alfendi grumbled. Still, he sat obediently as Flora dragged the brush through his wavy hair, taming it into a low ponytail. She offered to add a purple ribbon, so he’d look like a fairytale prince, to which Alfendi told her something very inappropriate for a prince. He was, at least, satisfied with his ponytail as it was ‘practical’ and kept his hair out of his eyes.  

The next time Flora visited the house, she found Alfendi plaiting Kat’s hair. Apparently, a little boy had pulled Kat’s hair at the playground...

“Do you want me to plait your hair next, Al?”

Keeping hold of Kat’s plait, Alfendi turned to glare at Flora. “Get lost. Kat’s going to do my hair.”

“Yeah, get lost, Floor,” Kat said.  

The thought of ‘getting lost’ would have terrified Flora years ago. Now, she just burst out laughing.

In October, Alfendi was promoted from hairstylist to ‘Halloween wardrobe stylist’. He helped Kat put together a spooky outfit every day. Some were inspired by Kat’s current fixations: The little witch from her favourite book, Tigger from The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh and Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster. (Kat saw this as an excuse to eat as many cookies as she liked.) Then there were Kat’s villain ‘disguises’, from Descole to Don Paolo. Alfendi drew the line at Bill Hawks. Not because it would be ‘offensive’— Hawks was the butt of many jokes in the Layton household— but because they all knew who came after Bill Hawks.  

There had been… impersonators every year since Clive Dove’s attack, rather like the clown craze that followed a certain Stephen King novel. None of them copied Clive’s methods, as far as Flora was aware. They were just out to scare the public. That was traumatic enough if you had suffered at the hands of Clive… but what if you bore a striking resemblance to him?    

Much to Kat’s dismay and Flora’s relief, Luke couldn’t make it back for Halloween this year. He was off solving another mystery. Flora hoped he wasn’t alone.  

There hadn’t been any ‘Clive Dove sightings’ on the news lately, but Flora still insisted Emmy should go trick-or-treating with Kat and Alfendi. Flora would have accompanied them herself had she not been invited to a Halloween party by Kuri, her closest friend from university. They hadn’t seen each other for months, so Flora was very grateful for Emmy’s assistance. Emmy was over the moon because it meant she got her own share of treats. Alfendi, for once, didn’t argue.      

He was content to dress as a vampire rather than some nightmarish movie villain. Kat went as a literal cat, complete with a tail, a cute red bow and bag of garlic to chuck at Alfendi. Emmy was Batwoman.

They all made it home safe and stuffed with sweets. Flora phoned at ten to check on them and to let them know she was staying at Kuri’s flat.

“Enjoy yourself,” Emmy chimed over the phone. Hopefully, Flora’s creepy doll makeup would hide her flushed face from Kuri.

In the following days, Alfendi knew Flora was hiding something, though he didn’t pry.

As soon as the holiday was over, he withdrew to his room. Halloween couldn’t cure the bitterness that had been festering inside him like a pumpkin left to rot.

Flora would take Kat out whenever Alfendi started shouting at their dad. (“WHY DO YOU KEEP VISITING HIM?”)

Bonfire night was the worst.

They had arranged to see the fireworks at Gressenheller. Flora had arrived at the house to find the professor comforting a tearful Kat. Alfendi had snapped at Kat when she kept asking why he wasn’t coming with them.

The professor had tried talking to Alfendi, tried getting him to talk to someone, to no avail. Flora told the professor to go on ahead with Kat. She could handle this.

When she tapped on Alfendi’s door ten minutes later, he barked, “Eff off—!”

“It’s me.”

Silence. Flora waited. She heard a firework explode outside. Then, a smothered whimper from Alfendi.

“Al...” she said softly. “I’m coming in, okay?”

Alfendi didn’t turn her away. She opened the door. Since Flora had moved out, Alfendi had claimed the biggest bedroom. (It stank of coffee now…) She used to tease Alfendi about how he was always holed up in his ‘cave’, but his ‘cave’ was the tidiest area in the house, as opposed to Kat’s toy-strewn room or the professor’s office. It was also very well-lit for a ‘cave’; the ceiling light, the lava lamp and his computer screen were all on.  

Alfendi had been lying facedown in his purple beanbag. He sat up awkwardly and Flora saw he was wearing a pair of fluffy white earmuffs.

His eyes were red and his nose was running. Sniffing, he took the earmuffs off and tossed them at Flora. “Can you give these back to Kat?”

Another explosion went off. Alfendi flinched.

She nudged the earmuffs back to him. “You can keep them for now. I’m sure Kat won’t mind.”

“Is she ok?”

“She’ll cheer up when she sees the fireworks.”

He put the earmuffs back on, clamping his hands over them until the next firework had passed. “Weren’t you going with them?” he asked eventually.

The plan had been to meet Kuri there. Flora was going to introduce her to the professor and Kat.

But Flora shook her head at Alfendi. (Kuri would understand— she had practically raised her twin brothers.) “Nope,” she said. “I think The Muppet Movie is on... Want to watch it with me?”

The two of them curled up on the settee and she put the T.V. volume on full-blast. It was so loud that the professor, Kat and Kuri heard The Rainbow Connection on their way home.

Per usual, Alfendi didn’t join them for coffee but he said he would pop over to Flora’s after work. That was... sociable of him.

Kat thought it had something to do with his new assistant, Lucy. Frantically, Flora phoned Kuri and asked her to tidy the living room because Alfendi might be bringing a friend with him. Kuri made no such promises but she would made plenty of stew.

Flora thanked her, hung up and informed Kat they were having stew for dinner.

Kat squinted at Flora over her Pumpkin Spice Latte. “Are you quite sure your wife isn’t a witch?”

Flora chuckled, “Why would you think that?”

This was the question Kat had been hoping for. She launched into a retelling of ‘Katrielle and the Witch Wife’. That spark in her eyes, her exaggerated gestures, the way she took bites out of her chocolate muffin in-between... She looked so much like Luke. Flora remembered him describing his own encounter with a ‘witch’— back when he first met Professor Layton.

That part of their lives, much like Autumn, had ended too quickly. Now, some days, it felt like they were caught in an eternal Winter. The professor was gone, along with Luke. Alfendi was more distant than ever...

But she still had Kat.

Story complete, Kat leapt to her feet. There was a pair of fluffy boots in the autumn sale she wanted to buy. Of course, she secretly hoped Flora would buy them for her. Flora was happy to oblige, because that’s what big sisters do.