001; intro.

[pactum]

Characters: Ciel and ALL OF YOU.
Setting: room 3-16 and ANYWHERE.
Format: whatever you'd like.
Summary: after waking up, Ciel has a look around.
Warnings: brief references to past abuse.

[ he thinks it's shackles, at first. that's what happens when you wake up from a nightmare--a memory--of being chained down only to find that upon waking, you can't move. it's understandable, really, how his eyes go wide and he feels his chest tighten in panic, when for a long and terrifying moment he thinks he's back there, bound and powerless. he might have screamed--or attempted to--if the paralysis had lasted any longer.

but it seems there's much more to worry about than that.

Ciel reads the letters, of course--finds the information difficult to swallow (completely ridiculous, really), can't take it as fact without confirming things for himself. he's used to being kidnapped. it's almost commonplace by now. what he isn't used to is being given free reign by his kidnappers. but the first order of business is, of course, to change out of the uncomfortable skintight clothing he'd woken up in. thankfully, just as promised, there are belongings in his trunk, including a change of clothing. he dresses himself quick as he can, though several buttons are in the wrong place, the bow is lopsided, and his eye patch is secured with what looks to be a rather hopeless dead knot. still far better than what he had been wearing, as far as he's concerned.

he lingers around the room for a bit before setting out to explore the building, curious to see if he can confirm anything else written in either letter. he's not so apt to believe anything he's been told just yet. as he walks, his fingers follow the edges of the yellow collar absently. he's tried tugging on it; no use, predictably. 

it's only after he's satisfied at least some of his own curiosity by looking around for a bit that he decides it is high time that he gets a second opinion on this matter. he calls only once, quiet but firm:  ]

Sebastian, come.

[ he's known since he'd gotten a proper bearing on himself earlier that the demon is present somewhere nearby. the bond of their contract is as stable as ever, after all--and besides, when doesn't Sebastian come when he calls? the knowledge that his butler is, as usual, only a word away is what's kept him this calm so far. ]

Comments

[guiltapalooza]

[A couple floors above the dormitory level is one where sheer glass has replaced the outer walls, and drifting, smokey clouds are all that's visible outside it. The overall effect is enormous and rather lulling, and the various couches and tables strewn throughout the floor take advantage of the view.

Willow's laid out on one of them rather delicately, as she's injured. There's an ugly looking healing scrape across one cheek, faded yellowed bruising blossoming out from it; and she's balancing a heavy, leather-bound book carefully with a hand and a forearm, as the other hand is splinted. Fresh, clean bandages are visible along her shirt's neckline to the particularly observant eye, but when she glances up at the sound of someone approaching and spots him, she smiles easily.

He looks like something out of a period drama, to her. And she still hasn't been able to rid herself of the instinctual desire to protect all the kids that show up, though she knows probably not a single one of them would appreciate it.

She limits herself to a simple, friendly,] Hey. I haven't seen you around before.

[pactum]

[ he's captivated by this room. Ciel's seen gigantic windows before; floor-to-ceiling ones, even. he's been to the Crystal Palace in London more than once. but the Crystal Palace doesn't have a view like this. when he stands just beside the window, reaching out toward the glass, it feels like he should be able to slip his hand straight through it and touch the clouds. just how tall is this tower?

he's contemplating this, among other things, his palm pressed flat to the window, when Willow speaks. she'd been quiet enough that he hadn't noticed her. but now that he does, he takes stock of her carefully, just as he does everyone he meets. it doesn't take much careful observation to tell that she's injured. ]

I've just woken up.

[ he probably sounds like he's from a period drama, too. ]

[guiltapalooza]

[His accent is interesting, and, well, kinda cute. But boys don't usually like being told that they're cute, so she keeps that to herself, her smile turning a shade more sincere.

She closes her book and sets it on her lap, and shifts herself slowly as she speaks to sit up properly and address him.] Did you get the low down yet? I explain the tower to new arrivals all the time, I can totally give you the exposition dump if you still need it.

[pactum]

[ as becomes increasingly obvious, she's American. and modern American slang isn't exactly something he's very familiar with. still, the context is all he needs to figure out what 'low down' means, and while he's never heard 'dump' used as a metaphor for giving out information, that has to be what she's referring to. ]

I've been informed of the basics, at least, yes. [ he takes a step or two toward the sofa she's now sitting up on. ] And I believe I can infer much of the rest. Others have warned me already about how dangerous this place is. Your injuries are confirmation enough of that. But I am not sure yet what I believe and what I do not.

[guiltapalooza]

[She's used to British people thinking she's unintelligible, and doesn't spare a single thought for it, perhaps inconsiderately. But Willow nods toward the empty armchair set kitty-corner from her couch, saying,] Have a seat?

And actually, it wasn't the tower that I got hurt by. It was another kidnap-ee. So... yeah, it's pretty much all danger, all the time. [An understanding, apologetic look.] You'll just have to decide for yourself what you can take as real and what you can't. It's a lot.

[pactum]

[ as she explains, he does have a seat, settling himself into the armchair. he crosses his legs primly and folds his hands together, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he watches her attentively.

he isn't surprised in the least by what she has to say. ]

From the way you speak, it sounds as though you are implying that we should merely accept all of this. Has no one really discovered any way to leave? [ he sounds certain when he says, ] I don't believe for a moment that our...worlds [ strange to use the plural ] have actually been destroyed.

[guiltapalooza]

[She eyes this perfect posture with some hidden amusement.] I don't think so either, [she agrees.] Plenty of things have tried to end my Earth before, and none of them have ever stuck. [Willow shrugs, awkwardly with her injuries.] Not to mention how easy it is to cast illusions.

I haven't given up on leaving, not at all, but no, no one's ever found a way to leave. It's not like we haven't tried, but the tower administrators are pretty quick to punish anyone that's out of line. So it's going to take more than just idly poking around.

[pactum]

[ her Earth. another version. that's going to take some getting used to. still, he nods to show that he understands. ]

I see. And we have no idea who the administrators of the tower are either, I presume? Merely that they hand down punishment?

[ well, if she's going to be helpful, he supposes he should at least introduce himself. he extends one hand to her. ]

Ciel, Earl Phantomhive. May I have your name, miss?

[guiltapalooza]

Well, there's posts on the network from them sometimes, so we have some names, but. Mostly it's a lot more questions than answers.

--Oh! Sorry, I was all caught up. [She reaches out to shake his hand, a bright smile returning. It looks fairly natural on her, as if Willow goes around beaming at everyone.] Willow Rosenberg. Though I don't think I've ever met one of the peerage. [A slight teasing note enters her voice.] I hope you don't mind if I forego the "my Lord"s.

[pactum]

And despite the punishment and constant danger, they continue to perpetuate that they've saved us?

[ admittedly, he isn't used to others calling him by his first name; only his few remaining relatives do. he's more 'Earl Phantomhive' than 'Ciel' now. he supposes that he can allow it, though, in deference to the obvious discrepancy between...realities.

...also because it doesn't surprise him that an American would have so little tact. but that doesn't mean that he won't be formal. ] Forego them if you wish, Miss Rosenberg.

[guiltapalooza]

Yeah, they do. [Her lips purse in obvious annoyance at that, but Willow makes herself put that aside as she goes on.] They seem to think they're doing the universe some great favor, and our thoughts are more or less inconsequential. They're not too keen on talking to us.

[Meanwhile, Willow is barely thinking about the relative formality of what name to use at all. Giles called her 'Miss Rosenberg' for ages before warming up enough to use 'Willow', and England had taken a little while to do that, too, so as far as she's concerned it's a British thing.] I don't mean to be disrespectful or anything, but I'd probably be awkward about it and make some heinous faux pas without realizing, [she admits unselfconsciously.] I do that enough as it is.

[pactum]

I expected as much. Those who exert power over others tend to be arrogant. [ himself included--though that's hardly relevant at the moment. ]

[ formality is a staple of his society; it's difficult for him to let go of it, as it's been ingrained so deeply in his mind ever since he was small. formality, tradition, chivalry, and nobelesse oblige: those--and a dose of unnecessary pomp, pageantry, and gossip--are what the noble class thrives on. but he can understand her desire not to botch the matter if she doesn't know better. he thinks it wiser of her to admit to her lack of knowledge in the area than attempt to fake familiarity with it. ]

I believe in your good intentions, Miss Rosenberg. 'Ciel' will do, in that case, if that is what you are more comfortable with.

[guiltapalooza]

You got that right. Though I'm used to more witty quips and bragging than we're getting here. It's throwing my baddie-fighting groove off entirely.

[The situation is really a lot more dire than her joking would imply, of course, but that's the only way Willow knows how to cope with it. She either has to go crazy, or make fun of it, and people tend to get killed and tortured when she goes crazy. So the latter is definitely the superior option.

At the second part of the conversation, she gives him a smile, just slightly awkward.] Thanks. When is it that you're from? Obviously not 2003 by what you're wearing. [At least she hopes not.]

oh gosh i am so sorry for the super late reply!

[pactum]

[ ahh what is modern slang?? his brows furrow just a little, but that's the only indication he gives that he finds the way she speaks at all strange. ] As am I, to be perfectly honest. In my experience, kidnappers often like to tell you exactly why they've taken you and what they intend to do with you. Perhaps these once are simply smarter than the usual fare.

[ he's already met someone today who claims to be from 2010, so he is not so surprised as he might have been otherwise. ] The year is 1890 where I am from. From what I have seen here so far, I have a number of technological advancements to get used to in addition to the tower itself.

it's fine! :>

[guiltapalooza]

[Willow is so used to getting strange looks about her word choice that she doesn't even notice.] That's been my experience, too. One time this vampire even cried on my shoulder. I mean, I was still terrified, but it was also kinda... sad.

I'm not too sure the lack of boasting and sobbing means they're smarter, though, [she adds doubtfully.] That seems like giving them too much credit.

Oh wow, Victorian England! That's the real deal. [She looks suitably impressed.] If you need any help with the technology, I'm pretty good at it. Nothing here has stumped me so far.