I can feel your skin coming off your soul

[masterbastian]

characters; Ciel and Sebastian → Ciel and Undertaker
setting; mangaverse, post zombie arc
warnings; twisted shit probably


A heavy sigh - or rather, another one - escapes Sebastian's lips as he hones his demonic hearing onto the heavy, hollow clopping of horse hooves on dirt and pebble pathways instead of the little bird heart fluttering within the cage jostling behind him. A stubborn boy, and despite that ferocity, which had drawn him to the child from the very beginning, it's frustrating when having to pit oneself against it. His lips are pursed together, gloved hands gripping onto the reins a little more tightly than any other day. This journey into the city will be fruitless, certainly.

"Young Master," he called behind him, "You are wasting an entire day of travel for nothing. He would not be so stupid as to return there." A growling tone of annoyance rattles through the butler's voice. Undertaker would not return to his shop, somewhere he would be easily located, after what had transpired on the cruise ship. A sick, rouge grim reaper he might be, one with only a loose handhold on reality, but he is stealthy and clever nonetheless. And yet Sebastian's charge had ordered him early on this morning, with little explanation, to ready the horse and carriage. Only the contract and the chance to end that reaper allowed for him to comply with his orders.

Reason seems to have left the young Phantomhive, and a rage, an aching radiating from the middle of the demon's back, makes this even more of a loathsome outing.

Comments

[littlest_lord]

But reason hadn't left Ciel Phantomhive at all. Sebastian might've seen the trip as nothing more than a waste of precious time and over all an irritating day spent on the road, but there was rhyme and reason to Ciel's desire to visit the Undertaker's shop. Ever since he had been tossed the memento moris on the sinking cruise ship he'd been mulling over their importance ever since. As long as he held onto them, he was sure to meet the reaper again but why wait for Undertaker to come to him when he could just go to the man himself?

Curiosity was what had pushed him forward to demand Sebastian arrange for travel to the shop and now here he was, stepping into the shop, cameos clutched in his palm, ordering Sebastian to wait outside.

The wooden door was pushed open, creaking as heeled boots clicked against the floor. The room was dim, musty and devoid of life - no different than usual.

"Undertaker?"

Would he answer the call?

[cadaverdaddy]

Of course the shop was dank and dusty, there was little time to do such menial chores as dusting with the busy schedule of a funeral director. And it had been that same busy schedule that had brought the reaper back to his work only days after he'd returned from the open ocean. He had mourned the loss of so many of his dolls, but just briefly. They'd served their purpose in most facets, and with the unexpected events that had turned his experiment into something of a party, he couldn't be too disappointed. Perhaps he was even proud, and even more determined to finish what he'd started.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't surprised when he heard the little voice called him from the threshold of the shop. But to think that the young earl wouldn't come searching for him- So much like his father.

A few clicks of his boots within the dark back rooms and a spidery hand jutted out of the shadows, waving about, draped in his sleeve, as to catch the boy Phantomhive's attention. He couldn't help the fit of giggles that fell from his lips, bouncing through the pitch of his voice. So proud, he was oh so proud of Ciel. Even more so than his dearest dolls.

The hand disappeared, retreating into the dark again, but just for a moment. It returned, long fingers curled around the thin, glass neck of a beaker filled with a brown fluid - tea, presumably. Though one could never know for sure. The rest of him followed, his steps quick and nearly silent as he all but stumbled his way over to the child.

"^{heeeeeeeeeeeeee} Why good day, Earl. What a ^pleasant surprise~ I must say, I wasn't expecting you in the least," the Undertaker whispers as the knuckles of one hand brush that forever boyish face, the other pressing the beaker of tea at the child. "What might I assist you with this afternoon?"

Could the boy do it? Could he face the reaper in this state, as merely the cheery undertaker instead of the deserter guide of the dead and a killer of man? A sick individual delighting in the thrills of lifeless flesh and the chance to reanimate those lost, pitting them against innocents for apparent sport. Through a shade of silver, he watched, locked onto that large, blue eye, waiting, all but beside himself with excitement.