[DEJA VU] [FANFIC] 🦜 DÉJÀ VU: THE STAR SEEKER CHRONICLES

Episode 0: A Most Uncivilised Breakfast

No. 7 Faraday Street, London | 8:17 in the morning  

As narrated by Ariel, a cockatoo of considerable vocabulary and absolutely no breeding.

There were five detectives at the Star Seeker Detective Agency, all exceptionally handsome, extraordinarily gifted, and, in Ariel's professional opinion, utterly bloody useless before breakfast.

"WAKE UP, YOU MISERABLE SONS OF BISCUITS!"

Ariel announced this from atop Wolptinger's head. The Welsh corgi, a gentleman of infinite patience and limited ambition, continued chewing his breakfast sausage.

"Good morning, Ariel," Elias Sinclair greeted cheerfully.

"GOOD MORNING, YOU DAFT LITTLE TURNIP!"

Elias beamed. "She's in excellent spirits today."

"She's threatened to murder the milkman twice," Sebastian Ashford murmured.

"THRICE, YOU SLEEP-DEPRIVED BASTARD!"

Sebastian, who possessed the unfortunate gift of prophecy, stared into his third cup of coffee. Dark circles decorated his eyes with the artistic precision of a Victorian undertaker.

"Anything?" Henry Wyndham asked.

"Nothing."

"No visions?"

"Nothing."

"No ominous warnings of impending doom?"

Sebastian closed his eyes. "Only the persistent feeling that I should have remained in bed."

"PROPHECY!" Ariel shrieked. "YOU'RE ALL BUGGERED!"

"Remarkably specific," Adrian Blackwood observed without looking up from his Grimoire.

With an absent flick of his fingers, the silver teapot levitated and poured five perfectly measured servings. Ariel watched, fascinated.

"LOOK AT THE SMUG BASTARD! TOO POSH TO POUR HIS OWN BLOODY TEA!"

"Unlike certain members of this household," Adrian replied, turning a page, "I possess the intellectual capacity to employ magic without announcing it to the entire parish."

"UP YOUR ARSE, PROFESSOR!"

"Anatomically ambitious."

Elias dissolved into laughter.

Across the table, Henry Wyndham, Duke of Windermere, was holding a rolled-up copy of The Albion Star.

His target sat innocently beside the marmalade.

Pumpkin the Devouring Gourd.

The orange creature blinked.

Henry narrowed his eyes.

"You ate my correspondence."

Boing.

"My riding gloves."

Boing, boing.

"And half a perfectly respectable Chippendale chair."

Pumpkin smiled.

"Don't you dare smile at me, you overgrown vegetable."

"GET HIM, YOUR GRACE!" Ariel screamed. "BEAT THE LITTLE ORANGE BLACKGUARD!"

"Nobody is beating Pumpkin," Alistair Everard said pleasantly.

Pumpkin immediately bounced behind his master's teacup.

Ariel leaned forward from Wolptinger's head and poked Pumpkin with her beak.

Poke.

Pumpkin blinked.

Poke. Poke.

Pumpkin opened his mouth.

Ptoo!

A pumpkin seed landed on the table.

Ariel gobbled it.

"GOOD LAD! AGAIN!"

Ptoo! Ptoo! Ptoo!

Three more seeds.

"HA! A VEGETABLE WITH BETTER MANNERS THAN THE BLOODY ARISTOCRACY!"

Henry looked personally wounded. "I am sitting right here."

"AND WHAT A TRAGEDY FOR THE FURNITURE!"

Alistair laughed so hard that the potted roses on the windowsill abruptly burst into magnificent pink blossoms. An ivy vine climbed the curtain rod, while a nearby fern unfurled three new fronds.

Adrian finally looked up. "Alistair. Your horticultural enthusiasm is becoming structurally inconvenient."

"Sorry," Alistair wheezed. Another rose bloomed.

Meanwhile, Duchess Salem, the silver-striped British Shorthair, entered the room with the dignified contempt of a dowager countess discovering her servants had unionised.

Ariel froze.

"OH, LOOK. THE FUR-COATED TART HAS ARRIVED."

Duchess Salem sat.

"YOU OVERFED, PIGEON-EYED, WHISKERED OLD BATTLEAXE!"

The cat began washing one paw.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M INSULTING YOU, YOU POMPOUS LITTLE SHITE!"

Duchess Salem yawned. Ariel's crest shot upright.

"THE AUDACITY! THE BLOODY AUDACITY!"

Wolptinger, still carrying the furious cockatoo on his head, wandered over to Duchess Salem and affectionately licked her ear.

"TRAITOR!" Ariel screeched. "YOU FOUR-LEGGED JUDAS!"

The corgi wagged his tail.

Elias was now laughing into his handkerchief.

Henry had abandoned his newspaper assault and was arguing with Pumpkin over the legal definition of edible property.

Adrian's teapot continued its flawless service.

Alistair's laughter had produced a small flowering cherry tree in the umbrella stand.

And Sebastian, exhausted beyond mortal comprehension, took another sip of coffee.

"Do you know," he said quietly, "I once foresaw a building collapsing."

The room fell silent.

"I've witnessed terrible possibilities. Entire futures unraveling."

Everyone listened.

"Yet somehow, not once..."

He looked at Ariel.

"...have I managed to foresee a single peaceful breakfast."

Ariel considered this.

Then, with the solemnity of a bishop delivering the Easter sermon, she declared:

"WELL, BUGGER ME SIDEWAYS AND CALL ME QUEEN VICTORIA!"

A beat.

Adrian closed his Grimoire. "Please don't. Her Majesty might hear you."

Pumpkin spat out another seed.

Ariel caught it.

"LONG LIVE THE BLOODY QUEEN!"

And somewhere in London, a church bell rang nine times.

It was going to be a very long day.

Extract from the unofficial household records of the Star Seeker Detective Agency:

8:59 a.m. Breakfast concluded. No casualties. One threatened aristocrat. Fourteen pumpkin seeds consumed. One botanical incident. The corgi remains politically neutral. Duchess Salem has declined to comment.

9:00 a.m. Ariel has learned the word parliament.

God help the Empire. 🦜