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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.
------------------
[ 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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Yes, my lord.
[And exeunt]
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[Satisfied with the late night tea service, Sebastian returned to Ciel's room, knocking politely, one hand balancing the tray]
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[By this time, Ciel has given up on sleeping again. Instead, he's sitting up, back against the headboard, arms crossed. Exasperated, face in that all too familiar sour frown.]
Took you long enough. Could you not find anything in the dark? [A feeble attempt to get the last laugh.]
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. . .
[He gives Sebastian a once over... and he smirks] You don't sleep in that suit, do you? I know you don't need to sleep at all, but does that mean you never do? It's not as if I gave you any orders for over-night.
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I was polishing the silver.
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In the middle of the night?
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Will that be all, young Master?
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Yes, for now.
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And sweet dreams. [He adds in a murmur, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turns the knob]
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