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@adapperraven
shieldsharksmile started following you
[/She smiled, turning the slightest bit of red before bowing her head slightly, as she was taught to when she was younger.]
Ah, hello, syr. Sânice ta meet ya.
He wore a pleasant smile as well, a hand resting on his chest as he spoke. Long black hair tucked behind one ear, he nodded once.Â
"A pleasure. Is there anything I can do for you?"
shieldsharksmile started following you
Greetings, my lady.
Good evening.
Is there anything I can assist with?
Everyone.
âI trust my master has been treating you well?â
As if I wouldnât be?
Really, youâre the only one who doesnât fit into the category of âpeople I treat well.â
Ah, but master; I wasn't aware I was a person at all. I am simply one hell of a butler.
Everyone.
"I trust my master has been treating you well?"
Hello.
Ah, Grell.
adapperraven started following you
((o3o THIS IS A PLEASANT SURPRISE. HELLO AND WELCOME TO MY BLOG. I RP WITH PEOPLE AND I MIGHT BUG YOU SOMETIMES. Um. I donât usually caps lock everything, by the way. Um. Hi. oAo Idonâtknowifyoufollowedmetorporifyoufollowedmejusttofollowme.))
[I know, little bro.]
OOC:
[Would anyone like to RP?]
He knows now that he is serving an extremely - /extremely/ - disagreeable and petulant child. But something about that boy doesnât bother him all that much. If heâs disagreeable and petulant, it just means this experience will be all the more time consuming and less boring or plain. Nodding, he moves closer to the boy he now calls master.
âWould you be averse to my carrying you there, my Lord? It seems to me that youâve been through quite a lot already, and I could assist you.â
He waits for a response before touching him, as he knows that this boy in particular might not appreciate being manhandled at the moment, given what heâs just been through.
Naturally, Ciel is averse to being touched at all, and considering how stupid and careless (brutish) the demon had been not 15 minutes ago â just scooping him up like a little squirming puppy or something, the fool â he really has no desire to give in and let him manhandle him again. Where heâs gotten this notion of toughness, of being strong, whether he realizes heâs set up a standard for himself to conform to or not, is easily conceivable (it isnât as if heâs never skinned a knee, or been kept in a cage like a mutt â and how hard it must be for people whoâve been allowed to tiptoe around the truth of the world their whole lives, to lay in their childhoods into adulthood, to even conjure up a thought of going through this). But the sharp ache in his ankles is a little disarming; it would be more beneficial to just accept and let him.
This is like another little defeat, too small to be seen by the naked eye, but there regardless of who doesnât pick up on it. It pricks at his shell like a tiny needle, scratching a little wound that should heal, but if not left alone, could scar. Maybe reopen, bleed.
Heaving a sigh, Ciel shakes his head as though heâs exasperated, wanting to perfect stoicism in as little time as possible. âFine,â he near spits, gesturing feebly to the demon to let him know, should he not understand words, English, for whatever reason, heâs allowed.
He opts not to comment on the boy's reluctance, being intelligent enough as a demon to know that he is frustrated, upset, injured, and likely tired and hungry. All the same, he moves a little closer and scoops him up carefully, taking care not to make him feel as though he's being handled too roughly (he hopes), before he sets off walking in the direction of London.
He has a vague idea of where the hospital is, and he follows those instincts as he moves, which proves to be rather fruitful; they end up at the establishment before a few hours pass, and the demon seems no closer to tiredness than he was before - he really is hardy, which will surely be a good trait for him to have with a master like this.
"Sir...? Here we are."
âŠ
He continues to beam, not missing a single beat at the confession the boy just made. There was no way that this human could possibly know at this point, but he hates dogs. Always has, and always will. They make the most foul noises, they smell, they are so unbelievably weak natured, that they will love their master for no reason at all, no matter what.Â
âI see.â
Though in his head, heâs thinking âI take that backâ. He knows he is now serving a rather disagreeable boy, but the boyâs word is bond, and he sinks to one knee in front of him all the same.
âI am your Sebastian.â
But thatâs what heâs agreed to be, a dog â to come when called; to follow his master like a shadow, sleek and sinewy and somehow threatening, the same way doberman pinschers are â a dog in the most basic sense of the word, if only in a humanâs body, so Ciel frankly could not give less of a damn if Sebastian doesnât like it. His feelings donât make any difference to Ciel. Not now, not ever. (Or so he tells himself â rather, swears it to himself. His human sympathy has already been assaulted enough, hasnât it? And this is not a game, but that clarifies something in it, cuts the trembling what should I do? cleanly from his life with quick precise slices, because itâs ânot a game,â but itâs a game after all.)
Sebastian isnât human. He doesnât need to be taken care of like one of Elizabethâs dolls. He just needs to follow and do what heâs told; he wonât be anything but until Cielâs life comes to a close, until the curtains are drawn to signify the final act â and it wonât be too long now, really. Itâll be over before the human boy knows it, but he understands the finality of death and that life is short (o that this too too solid flesh would melt); witnessing it secondhand a few times leaves an impression.
Ciel limps a little, just briefly, when he pivots on his heel to start walking away, hopefully in Londonâs general direction. His ankles hurt, being p glances over his shoulder, head whipping around to shoot a petulant glower at Sebastian. âWell, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and take me to London.â
He knows now that he is serving an extremely - /extremely/ - disagreeable and petulant child. But something about that boy doesn't bother him all that much. If he's disagreeable and petulant, it just means this experience will be all the more time consuming and less boring or plain. Nodding, he moves closer to the boy he now calls master.
"Would you be averse to my carrying you there, my Lord? It seems to me that you've been through quite a lot already, and I could assist you."
He waits for a response before touching him, as he knows that this boy in particular might not appreciate being manhandled at the moment, given what he's just been through.
strictsupervisor: [ .____. herp derp derp hello~ ]] (Herp derp hello.)
Just a thank you.
OOC: I appreciate everyone who reads this blog. Thank you.
âSebastian.â
He repeats the name quietly, tilting his head. Smiles in response to him, and continues his train of thought.
âWas that the name of your former butler?â
He wouldnât be surprised if this boy grew up with a butler, actually he thinks he probably did, and his name was probably Sebastian. He doesnât really mind being named after a servant, as thatâs what he is to this boy now.
âI rather like it. I am now Sebastian.â
The boy blinks slowly, lashes fluttering against cheeks drained of colour like little flecks of stray charcoal on paper, and bows his head to shake it, that childish hopelessness returning to his movements. âNo,â he admits. Heâs suddenly aware of how filthy he is now, the dirt and natural oils heâs ignored for as long as he can now, without as much as a hint of warning, heavy, like leather for eyelids. The little headache and the nausea still linger faintly in the back of his skull.
Ciel pauses for just a moment, as if trying to regain his bearings or arrange his thoughts, regardless of that individually they ring clearly in his head â the pressure from the ghost of sickness is distracting and tangles them all like vines with thorns, though heâs sure of his answer.
He speaks up again to clarify, head still dipped with the gentle curve of his head forward and down:
âIt was my dogâs.â
...
He continues to beam, not missing a single beat at the confession the boy just made. There was no way that this human could possibly know at this point, but he hates dogs. Always has, and always will. They make the most foul noises, they smell, they are so unbelievably weak natured, that they will love their master for no reason at all, no matter what.Â
"I see."
Though in his head, he's thinking 'I take that back'. He knows he is now serving a rather disagreeable boy, but the boy's word is bond, and he sinks to one knee in front of him all the same.
"I am your Sebastian."
Hello, Sebastian.
1. First impression: (That you were intelligent and that I would get along quite well with you.)2. Truth is: (You are really very important to me, and I couldn't do much of anything without you. Really.)3. How old do you look: (I would say 19, in the last picture I saw.)4. Have you ever made me laugh: (Every day.)5. Have you ever made me mad: (I wouldn't say so. ^ _ ^)6. Best feature: (I can't choose just one, there is very little that isn't amazing about you.)7. Have I ever had a crush on you: (Goodness, bocchan.)8. Youâre my: (Bocchan, forever.)9. Name in my phone: (Bocchan.)10. Should you post this too? (Already done.)
(ïŸâăźâ)ïŸ*: ïŸâ§ ... Sure!
I see.
âMy name?â
He smiles as he glances back, his eyes half closed, his gaze almost caring. This is the beginning to what will surely be a very interestingâŠrelationship. Names have never been of much use to a demon such as himself, so he has never chosen one - he has always let his masters or those who summon him be the ones to give him a name, and this time is no different.
âMy name is whatever my master wishes it to be.â
The sentiment, whatever or wherever it is â if itâs there at all, like some little shadow of something that is, in truth, absent, some wishful thought from a dead boyâs head â is lost on him totally. As if he could be persuaded by tiny show of emotion, let anything prick his heart and leave it bleeding for a mother or a home or the past.
Ciel relinquishes the coatâs thick wool tail, a cramp in his thumb briefly blossoming at the base, and drops his hand back to his side. He stands with his back straight like a dignified little child soldier, the back of his head reclined so he can blink up at his new butler, dried tears still clinging to his lashes. âThen, from now on, your name is Sebastian.â
"Sebastian."
He repeats the name quietly, tilting his head. Smiles in response to him, and continues his train of thought.
"Was that the name of your former butler?"
He wouldn't be surprised if this boy grew up with a butler, actually he thinks he probably did, and his name was probably Sebastian. He doesn't really mind being named after a servant, as that's what he is to this boy now.
"I rather like it. I am now Sebastian."
ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:* \(ââżââż)/ *:ïŸâ§*:ïœ„ïŸ I LOVE GLITTER. DON'T YOU LOVE GLITTER TOO?
Glitter? Is that not that most obnoxious substance that permeates everything it touches?
