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It was hard to tell where this began, and when. How he knew what it was at all was somehow unimportant. There he sat on a chair, ornate and detailed, but black as starless night. He felt the weight of a crown on his head, and his clothes were the same color as his throne. Yes, it was a throne, now he realized it. All around were people, all dressed different, but all of their clothes the same midnight hue, and each stood in their own Square -- the entire floor was covered in them, alternating black and white.
A chess board, he thought, but not in a way that seemed surprised or alarmed. No, he was rather accepting. This was the place of battle, a war he'd been fighting since the day he'd taken up this throne he sat upon. He saw Meilin, Bard, Finian, his rook, his knight, his bishop. The pawns, they were faceless, expendable... members of the yard, of the dark underground of England -- Lau, Ran Mao, Undertaker... They barely glanced at him.
In the distance, he could see them -- the ones in white, faces old and dead and gone. Grell Sutclife. William T. Spears. Madam Red (so inapproriate, dressed all in white, her hair like a bloodstain on the board). More and more faces, his mind unable to comprehend their positions; Dagger, Joker, Beast, Freckles...
He felt a twinge of something painful when he watched her fall.
All of them protected their King, an unseen shadow beyond the edge of the board. And all the while there Ciel sat upon his chair, one leg crossed over the other. The advancing faces grew older, more obscure. Masked nobles with malicious smiles, and gleams in the holes meant for their eyes. The black and white of Ranks and Files were becoming smattered in red.
What's black and white and red all over?
Slowly, he rose from the chair. His legs tremmbled, his hands clenching the rests. The more they advanced, the more his heart raced. This was it. This was what he'd waited for. Then, somethign was there -- at the back of his neck, in his hair. Something loosened, slipped, the patch falling from his eye. The world doubled, and reasembled, depth revived. And then, he glanced up. His Queen, the ultimate piece. Able to move in all directions, unlimited, unhindered. Even taken, all it would take to revive the Queen was a persistant pawn. The Queen could never truly die.
Kill them he felt himself mouth. Fire burned in his skull.
And in a dark blur, Sebastian was gone from his side, the black and white tiles all coated red.
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[ Ciel awoke with a jolt, a choked gasp, his hand flying to cover his right eye. Breathing heavily, he fummbled one-handed for his dream-berry, and shut it off. ]
A chess board, he thought, but not in a way that seemed surprised or alarmed. No, he was rather accepting. This was the place of battle, a war he'd been fighting since the day he'd taken up this throne he sat upon. He saw Meilin, Bard, Finian, his rook, his knight, his bishop. The pawns, they were faceless, expendable... members of the yard, of the dark underground of England -- Lau, Ran Mao, Undertaker... They barely glanced at him.
In the distance, he could see them -- the ones in white, faces old and dead and gone. Grell Sutclife. William T. Spears. Madam Red (so inapproriate, dressed all in white, her hair like a bloodstain on the board). More and more faces, his mind unable to comprehend their positions; Dagger, Joker, Beast, Freckles...
He felt a twinge of something painful when he watched her fall.
All of them protected their King, an unseen shadow beyond the edge of the board. And all the while there Ciel sat upon his chair, one leg crossed over the other. The advancing faces grew older, more obscure. Masked nobles with malicious smiles, and gleams in the holes meant for their eyes. The black and white of Ranks and Files were becoming smattered in red.
What's black and white and red all over?
Slowly, he rose from the chair. His legs tremmbled, his hands clenching the rests. The more they advanced, the more his heart raced. This was it. This was what he'd waited for. Then, somethign was there -- at the back of his neck, in his hair. Something loosened, slipped, the patch falling from his eye. The world doubled, and reasembled, depth revived. And then, he glanced up. His Queen, the ultimate piece. Able to move in all directions, unlimited, unhindered. Even taken, all it would take to revive the Queen was a persistant pawn. The Queen could never truly die.
Kill them he felt himself mouth. Fire burned in his skull.
And in a dark blur, Sebastian was gone from his side, the black and white tiles all coated red.
[ Ciel awoke with a jolt, a choked gasp, his hand flying to cover his right eye. Breathing heavily, he fummbled one-handed for his dream-berry, and shut it off. ]
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...What are you doing here?
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...Enter.
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Sleepless night, my lord?
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Is there anything you require for your personal comfort, then? Or shall I go?
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what a lovely dream~
The dream wasn't how Madame had imagined their first meeting after all this time, but it influenced her too much to pretend she hasn't seen it. The first thought was 'why am I on the other side of the board. And why am I in white?' Then she noticed Grell in his real form. Feeling a mix of curiousness and caution, Angelina chose neither of them and did what she was so good at - feigning ignorant carelessness.]
That is no way to dream about me. What am I wearing! White doesn't suit me at all.
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Madame. [A pause, as if registering this new 'reality' of his] You're right. White never did suit you.
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[A glint of motherly care.]
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...[This is more awkward than he anticipated. He never did think about what he would say to Madame Red if he'd had the chance. He doesn't know, does this incarnation of his aunt remember the Alley, the knife, the circle on his eye...] Are you well?
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Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be? [A light laugh.] The more important question is - are you well? Maybe I should come and see you first thing in the morning? To... check how you are feeling. [Rather, to find out if Ciel really has no recollection of his previous time here, and, in that case, create some new, lovely memories.]
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