Chapter Text
Listening to Violet chatter all day about abstract things like human dramas and holding in his own prompted anxiety attacks from being in such plain sight left him in a state of exhaustion. In fact, seeing all these humans had given him a massive culture shock and an evolving fear of being so tiny (approximately 5 inches tall) in such a large and modern world. Nox wondered back over to his box, obviously not tired— he was still unsure if keys could get tired, or if he was just constantly restless in comparison. Being different to the rest of his family led to most of his questions remaining unanswered, even to this day. But he offered himself the illusion of sleep on harder days within the library’s walls. He missed being able to shut his eyes for a few hours each day and leave the world behind briefly. So that’s what he did. Nox placed his head on a stack of cheap bookmarks and torn paper, aimlessly wrapped together in an attempt to craft a pillow. His mind wandered to his own past, days of which even the keys knew minimal detail about.
A vague memory of a small boy sitting at a table played in his mind, a younger him from years ago, though not mere. T’was back in the world he was familiar with, where horses and carts roamed the streets and ladies had obscure rules about showing ankles. There were two figures sitting opposite sides of the table from him, his parents. People he hadn’t seen— and would not see, for a long time. They were both working-class citizens; his mother had a sweet face and wore a long dress down to her feet. She worked as a housewife, caring for Nox and raising him, while his father worked as a factory worker. At the time, he was around 6 years old, slowly reaching the age to attend the local schools. But that was all ripped away by a simple newspaper article: the removal of outside help and relief to poor classes. Modernly known as: The Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834.