[impressions]
❝ ；— Ciel was tired. More than tired, a bit achy, his countenance selling him out in all honesty, expressing the eagerness in returning to his assigned room. It felt like it took minutes to just open the door, and the spoiled heir stepped inside. He was displeased at the size, and the prospect of sharing a room with a few individuals was not fun. He examined the room It was lifeless— not that there was no one who lived here, or no one currently inhabited the space, but it was a lifeless that was imitating something it could never have. It perhaps most closely resembled college quarters, though he supposed bunk beds would be preferred, even to this; additional gendered breakaway, if girls attended at all. Not to be trapped in some cage like a lab rat for who knows what. There certainly weren’t enough beds. Ciel shook his head in disdain. All that the simplicity this room reflected was, was a bitter reminder that he was stuck here for now.
Although knowing there would be others, the boy hadn’t quite anticipated them to be in the room currently. It’s a strange feeling, he almost feels like being ill, with irritation set on the back burner until a moments notice— Ah, forgot about partners. Eyebrows twitched as he folded the cuff of his jacket down over his wrist further. He refused to look the person addressing him in the eye, but she greeted him. He refused to accept a partnership that he didn’t agree to, that he couldn’t control. His soul was already sold. There was nothing left to give, and there was nothing he wished to take.
The moment her wrist juts out, proudly displaying her half of the brand, the sickly boiling rage beginning to spill over.
Ciel snapped at her. “I didn’t need to see your bloody mark—!”
At a shocking rate, the room felt unimaginably smaller than before. His face flushing with anger and embarrassment. Chomping down fast on his words, Ciel nearly bit off his tongue, but he wouldn’t take back what he said. His back and wrist felt hot to him, the ghost of memories dragging their fingertips tantalisingly slow across his body. Disgusting. His chest clenched tight. There was nobody pushing him, but he was backed into the corners of his mind, ready to lash out. He inhaled in and out through his nose, before finally catching the eye of the lass. His unveiled eye showed no sign of sympathy, or remorse, only echoing violent storms in the deepest hues of blue.
It was an omen, a precursor to endless possibilities.
The rage dissipates into the recesses of his consciousness, once again leaving his visage in that signature agitated state. His jaw relaxes, glare softens, the longer he stares at the other. He feels calmness. He feels revealed and dishevelled and vulnerable. If this was really an effect of connected emotions, Ciel would be sure to make it known he was in no way a force to be reckoned with.
”— … Chiaki? Nanami, was it? Nanami,” It wasn’t a gargantuan flip from his previous stern, cold tone, though it was audibly concealing a vexed state. Nevertheless, he contended to not show this anger in front of her. Not only was she a lady, but he too would become a disgraceful sight to see. Ciel held himself accountable for the discrepancy, straightening his posture and properly talking to the miss. Even if she wore a skirt as short as his Nina Hopkins’s revolutionary shorts for girls, she did not deserve his outbursts. He cleared his throat. “as a woman you should show more modesty.” Gently, as not to startle, the Earl paced himself over to a chair and sat down. Thin legs crossed at the knee, gloved hands laying peacefully on the armrests at either side.
"I am Ciel Phantomhive, Earl of Phantomhive." Sparing the theatrics, Ciel grimly eyes the girl. "Delighted to make your acquaintance.” — ；❞
[►]He's...a very dignified fellow, again reminding her of Kuzuryuu, albeit less "gangster" and more "stately". She's sensing a lot of aggravation that slides along her own nerves like briars, but Chiaki's good at controlling herself.
"Then I'm sorry," she murmurs after a pause, pulling her sleeve back into place. Fair enough, it's an obviously unneeded gesture when their emotions are flying back and forth between them.
She entirely puts the game aside for now--something tells her he isn't patient like the rest of her friends. He probably wouldn't tolerate her attention going elsewhere. And it's...rude, maybe, but she never means it like that.
He prefers to call her by her "family" name--Nanami--that's...fine, since it's a sort of formality common to Japan as well. His comments about her skirt makes her arch an eyebrow, but she crosses her legs and sits all nice and primly for him.
And then stifles a yawn. If he thinks this skirt is short, wait until he sees Junko. A swell of unease rises in her at the memory of the supermodel's forced kiss upon her, but she brushes it aside, hoping Ciel didn't notice. She ignores the comment on her skirt and instead focuses on replying to his introduction.
"Hm." She nods a little. "Phantomhive-san," Chiaki continues, going for the most formal approach she can. "We're going to have a little problem..." There's a pause as she trails off, getting her thoughts together. Then she lifts her eyes back to him. "We're from different time periods, so some things here and about me might be a little strange to you...I think. But I'm sure we'll be fine," she finishes mildly. "If you have any questions about anything, I'll answer them."
