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

[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.