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Chiaki Nanami:

[►]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."

　　　　　❝ ；— His brows furrow but nevertheless, Ciel notices a title attached to his name. He places the lass in location to some Asian country. The dialect something he was unaccustomed to, something he couldn't pinpoint. Being addressed by last name by those he just met, and even those he's known for years, was just another formality he faced as Earl, but the honorific, a little detail that set them apart, just an inch. She was so kind, almost irritatingly so, but she was soft-spoken, and it made it easier to relax. He leaned to the side of the chair, balled hand supporting his chin as the boy continued to look down. She, in all due respects, reminded him of his mother.

Her proposition and etiquette in sitting more ladylike are not unaccounted for, and each second became a lot easier to take on now. Much different than before, he takes a breath and quickly exhales. He couldn't lose his temper like that again. It was undignified, and uncalled for.

　　　Different time periods, different locations. A little astounding how much effort was put into collecting. Ciel doesn't have many questions floating around besides when and where she was born, though he wasn't as interested in revealing his own past, as he was more invested in knowing whom he shared a room with. Evidentially, social status was disregarded here. Admittedly, there's not much he can do, having spent the last few years relying on the help of a supernatural butler and three above par servants. He's already made such a sharp impression, but he becomes a bit agitated in his spot at the prospect of making a bigger fool of himself.

Unless the raising of women is so violently different between their cultures, he wondered if she'd pick up on cleaning and other chores. Other questions begin to flock to his mind, but Ciel only mentions one.

　　　　　　　　"Do you know how to make tea?"　— ；❞

[impressions]

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Yuyuka Nekota:

                   The television has never been something she showed much interest in. Sure, she keeps an eye out for favorite celebrities and specific shows, but her interest is rarely caught. The life going on around her is much more interesting than some fictional work or the news. Eck, the news. Honestly, she’d only tune in during the mornings to make sure she didn’t need her umbrella. Oh, her cute, polka dotted umbrella…

                   A sigh makes it way through her lips, nearly silent. It cannot be helped, after all. In the mean while, she watches the child. Not from interest, but slight horror. They had even bought kids into this? What a sick experiment. It’s only in a moment’s passing that she takes note of his clothing. Someone from the past? Well, damn. Literally no one is safe, it seems. The amount of culture shock everyone experience is probably enough to turn someone’s hair white, she thinks. 

                   "Television. It’s called a television, or TV," she speaks before even really realizing it. Damn, this place is really messing with her head, isn’t it? To be expected though, in a new reality, she’s not going to be able to stay the same. It’s weird and kind of really fucked up. "Couldn’t tell you how it works, never really cared. Everyone has one, where I’m from." She offers the kid a shrug. As long he doesn’t start crying for his mom or whatever, she’s not going to mind him. 

                   Idly, she gazes at her nails.

　　　　　❝ ；— In between the interest for the pinned box-contraption and his distaste for the attitude that greeted him, Ciel diverted his gaze to the young lady that addressed him rather abruptly and stared with an abnormally intense scrutiny for just one eye. His mother is dead. You're more likely to find him crying for his butler instead. "Television? Seems like a radio and a moving picture combined."

If this sort of technological advances were present here, and where this miss came from, it had to be way in the future. Nothing else made much more sense, considering England's process with moving pictures was in such infantile stages, and nothing could be beyond his kingdom's development. The way the images moved smoothly across the screen with ease and sound with breathtaking agility. It made hope for a prosperous future, he supposed, that such an expensive looking thing could be made affordable to even the most common-looking people.

　　A frightening realisation struck, then, that the mastermind behind these mass kidnappings had no sense of boundary, no preference. The concept seemed so improbable, but the increased and sudden exposure to multiple races, species, time settings; all of it was enough to jog a few thoughts to mind. He'd seen awesome skill in action, and death defying beings. It was clear that whoever brought them here had an intense line of power, and he wasn't one to doubt any less.

　　　"So tell me, miss..." Ciel motioned to a spot nearby his seat. 　　　　　　　　　　　　"Where are you from?"　— ；❞

✖―　{　　L'Étoiles de Ciel；

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Carl Grimes:

        Carl knows full well that there’s barely any chance of anyone coming for him. He knows that this place isn’t like Terminus; his dad and everyone else won’t break in and help him anytime soon. But he can hope. Even if it’s false hope, even if ‘anytime soon’ really means they’re not coming at all, it helps to pretend that they will. Eventually, though, he’ll have to deal with the fact that they’re not coming. He’ll have to come to terms with the fact that he could be stuck here forever, and that pisses him off more than anything. After all he’s been through, everything he’s done, he’s just going to be stuck here. He hates it. He hates this place, he hates whoever put him here, but most of all, he hates how weak he feels.

        Still, there has to be a way out. Maybe nobody can save him, but what if there’s a way to escape? The chances are slim, but who knows? Even though that voice said there’s no way to leave, it can’t be true. Nothing is impossible, and that’s why he’s currently standing around in the forest, in the hope that he might find a way out. The forest is kind of pretty, actually, and there’s no threat of walkers which makes it even more nice. It reminds him of when he was younger; when he and his friends would climb practically every tree they saw. It makes him want to relive those days.

        So that’s exactly what he’ll do. He approaches whatever tree is closest to him and eagerly begins the climb up, and it’s almost embarrassing how excited about this he is. The bark scratches the palm of his hands as he climbs, but it doesn’t even hurt more than a pinch. He stays sitting comfortably on a branch before he gets the wonderful idea to attempt jumping from tree to tree. It’s fun at first; he’s hit his head on some branches a few times but other than that, he’s having a pretty good time. Until his foot misses a branch and causes him to fall.

        Carl can barely process what’s happening before he lands on something that definitely isn’t the ground. He lies on whatever it is for just a moment longer — wondering why the hell he thought doing that would be a good idea — until he stands up and realizes that he fell on an actual person. He fell. From a tree. Onto a person.

        "Hey, are you — are you okay? Sorry about that, uh… sorry."

　　　　　❝ ；—　Despite having been staring upwards, for some reason it hadn't phased him-- a weird rustling in the trees, it sounded like some ape was swinging from the branches. There's only a split second between spotting the falling being and realising he was in its landing path where Ciel silently curses his decision and prepares himself for impact. Clenching his eyes shut, he can feel the initial contact and it knocks him over; the blow is a giant pressure on his chest and the boy wheezes loudly. It's a nauseating feeling, he feels dizzy and in pain. Realising the wind was knocked out of him as soon as the thing suffocating him moves, Ciel gyrates onto his side and tries to steady his breathing. There's a burning underneath his ribcage and certainly dirt all over his clothes. Inhaling feels like swallowing sand, and he's sure there's a distinct pinkness to his cheeks.

　　　It's a scratchy noise as he coughs, pulling himself off the ground to his feet. At first, it's a tough question to whether he could steady himself. He wobbles, relying on the tree trunk as he braces himself with one hand. When he replies, his voice sounds like a series of small angry battles.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　"I'm fine."

Unsure of how to conduct himself, a cerulean eye trained itself upon the other. He's never had someone fall out of a tree onto him. Honestly. Out of all his personal experiences, becoming a makeshift runway for unidentified falling objects had never made the list. The young earl examines carefully, picking up on every unkempt lock of hair, every smudge of dirt. There's an air of maturity surrounding him although he couldn't be more than Ciel's age. He furrows his brows. This kid looked no different than many commoners, but looking back to the tree he wonders briefly why he was climbing, and if he could coax this kid back into the tree. He was interested now in seeing how far the forest spread. If Sebastian wasn't going to come for him, then Ciel would find his own exit. Logically, there had to be a way out of here, considering there had to be a way to get inside.

　　　Ciel ignores the apology, and continues with his question. 　　　　　　　　　　"Who are you?"　— ；❞

✖―　{　　Burning Depths；

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Chiaki Nanami:

[►] Ah…The connection’s flipped back on, and Chiaki’s sensing endless aggravation from someone, somewhere. It’s making her nerves prickle and it nearly causes her to lose a life in her newest game escapade—how irksome.

But that’s okay, she thinks as the feeling grows nearer. It’s not his fault. She doesn’t blame him for seeming so agitated. She peacefully taps away at her Vita, quickly becoming so absorbed with the task that she fails to notice someone’s entered the room. It’s empty right now save for her, and he’s probably figured out they’re partners already…

Probably. Probably. Hm. Eventually Chiaki does concede and look up, pausing her game as she brushes a strand of hair away. If he’s said anything to her, she’s not noticed.

"…You’re…" Her brows furrow. "My partner, aren’t you?" She pulls back her sleeves and shows him their matching mark. "It’s nice to meet you. I’m Chiaki Nanami." Her voice is soft and very calm, considering the situation.

Something about him reminds her of her yakuza friend. Short and serious and angry. Chiaki stifles a yawn behind a hand, waiting for a response that isn’t long in coming at all.

　　　　　❝ ；—　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."　— ；❞

[impressions]

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Edinburgh by Angélica Vis on Flickr.

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✖―　{　　les Roses de tourmentes

　　　　　❝ ；― Inhaling deeply, the fresh smell of outdoors with a touch of mint leaves dove deep into his lungs, seemingly expelling out a world of misguided anger with the relief of his breath. A breeze so soft it was hardly noticeable, too weak to do more than kiss the end of pert noses and carry the faint scent of　m e m o r y　and brutal reality alike. Perturbed feelings seemed to wash away as Ciel walked closely along a small flowerbed, counting off the number of sweet blooms that he recognised from his studies. Plants were so gentle, innocent, and as he happened upon of section of sterling silver roses, a flood of thoughts came to mind.

He reminisced in recollection of the times he's destroyed his own garden, of the times he's watched it been built back up. Of the times he and Elizabeth strolled through, as she laughed and he fretted the future. His heart ached, and in a moment of weakness once again a pitch black blanket of vengeance swept the youth up, cocooning him in the sticky embrace of anger that fed off any underlying emotions.

　　　Ciel sighed with a shake of his head in reignition. He had to find some way out of here, if his contracted partner in crime has yet to reach him then he would dig until his calls could be heard. One more breath, one more step. The weather so far has appeared so clear, every so often he thinks he hears a bird chirp, or an animal rustle through trees and shrubbery. Even now it seems there's an awful lot of active moving about-- and it sounds like it's getting closer.

A faint wisp of light blonde hair from behind the dark trunk of a nearby tree catches his attention from the corner of his eye. On his toes, prepared to reach for a weapon if needed, Ciel chooses not to address the stranger with more than the simplest of greetings.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　"You can come out now."　— ；❞

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Kuroshitsuji / One Hell of a Butler / Sebastian Michaelis

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✖―　{　　My Will；

　　　　　❝；― It might have taken a long time to navigate around the area, but eventually, Ciel found his way to the kitchen.

While both the dining hall and gallery were adequate size for serving this establishment 　　　　　-- something he wished not to grace with a name -- 　　　　　　　　　　　　the only thing he could think of was... Nothing. Absolutely nothing. His heels tapped against the floor, loud enough to hear though it did not echo. He spotted what he assumed was an icebox, a sink, and quite possibly several pantries, one of which was left wide open.

　　　He'd never made food for anyone in his life, let alone himself, so it was with great precaution that Ciel prepared himself for raw ingredients and a stack of pans (and at least hoped for a cookbook) upon approaching the open storage. He was met with things in cans, and things wrapped up, and things in boxes. Nothing fresh. Crossing thin arms over his chest, his lip twitched with both irritation and relief.

Moving to take another step closer, he quickly readied himself for a multitude of things. He still didn't quite trust the promise of food and was wary of having to fix anything up himself. And upon hearing somewhat of a snarling voice, Ciel paused stiff in place. He couldn't make out whether the sound were words or barks and growls, and his eyes slowly trained themselves on a figure sitting propped up against the wall. Empty packaging and boxes were scattered here and there. He grimaced, but nevertheless remained on guard. Right hand slowly inching to the gun strapped safely to his left side, he assessed the situation and individual presented before him. Ciel then noted quite a few things, and set it aside in his mind before raising an eyebrow.

　　　　　　　　　　" ... ? " 　— ；❞

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　　　　　❝；― In general, Ciel is not a happy camper. However, he can be found brooding in the library currently, reading over a nice Edgar Allan Poe anthology. 　　　　　　　　　　　Well, he can be found staring heatedly down at the book instead. Not much reading taking place. Go figure. 　— ；❞

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✖―　{　　l'Étoile de Ciel；

　　　　　❝ ；— "..."

　　　Needless to say, the young earl was absolutely floored at the recreation room granted to this place. It felt as if he'd been sucked up into an entirely different dimension, or were the protagonist in a new science-fiction fantasy thriller. Never mind the handful of people that shuffled about, some looking about as displaced and lost as he, but the objects scattered about appeared too squared and distasteful. As if it wasn't already irritating enough, the additional pieces just made for an uncomfortable shift in setting.

Thinking about finding some place of comfort to sit left the boy a little off balance, which really was irony at its finest. Regardless, he picked a nice looking seat, one that appeared sturdy enough for all forty-one kilograms in weight that he had to offer.

Meanwhile, he silently plotted revenge against the architects that built this centre, for nothing looked stable inside nor out, and for how big it appeared, it was genuinely disconcerting. Surprising the boy yet again, the seat held up, and he breathed a slow sigh of relief while crossing his legs, before turning his attention to a wall that sported some... framed moving picture.

　　　It was so odd, yet fascinating, and as he watched solemnly, he couldn't help but mutter out at the grand display of. "Just... what in god's name is that thing." 　— ；❞

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✖―　{　　Burning Depths；

　　　　　❝ ；—　One breath, a second breath, and each one gets heavier as his pace increases. It's warm, his mouth feels a little cottony. His wrist throbs, and it echoes on his back where he's been branded once before. His mind goes foggy with anger as he feels groggily along the walls, head aching, quickly ascertaining the nearest exit to the room from which he emerged.　Disgusting,　he felt utterly disgusting. His eye darted side to side quickly, barely trusting the area to not crumble down upon him. Nothing looked familiar, the layout completely foreign to the Earl. The closest thing it reminded him of was a hospital, or some ward. On top of which, he cant quite remember the last place he was at, or who he last saw, just that it was not here.

Everything around him was fuzzy, pumping blood narrowing his vision to find a way out. Running now, the boy passes but a few faces, none of them familiar, nor comforting. The only thing occupying his thoughts is to get out, to get home. He'd be　d a m n e d　before he succumb to the fun and games of another being. He was tired of being made fun of, and it was time for the nonsense to end. Almost missing an exit, Ciel bursts through panting, a rush of fresh air nipping at his red cheeks.

　　　"Sebastian!"

Breathing heavily, blue hues took in the scenery with an ounce of adrenaline. He marches down toward grass quickly, scanning along the horizon of trees. It appeared as a peaceful forest laid out before him, and the youth avoided turning around to see what form of.. of asylum rest behind him. His breath caught as his calls came unanswered, and he yelled the name again, and again, ripping his eye patch off and reaching out to his sorry excuse for a butler. It was with a sinking heart that Ciel continued onward toward the forest, muttering curses lowly, beginning to feel sick as the rest of the excitement dripped from his body.

It left him sluggish and panting, gripping onto the bark as a fire burned in his belly. Stopping under the shade of a tree, sitting on an uplifted root, he struggled to regain his breath. A sheen coat of sweat swept across his forehead and back (he'd have to change before he began to smell).

　　　Ciel looked upward into patches of visible sky, and he waited.　— ；❞

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Kuroshitsuji | Crime & Punishment | Ciel & Sebastian

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Banana Yoshimoto, Kitchen