So, I started to watch Black Butler once again and this time around; I fell in love with the anime. It may have been the fact the last time I had watched it was the night I went into labor and just never got passed the third episode. Now that two years has passed and I finally got around to finally watching it again.
In the beginning I had planned on making this a full on SebastianXOC, but after watching a feel YouTube clips again and again with the Undertaker…well, no need to say anything else. My idea flew out and another started to develop. This is a UndertakerXOC with a hint of a DiedrichXOC, but nothing more, nothing less. This will actually take place the year the Ciel was born and will go on from there. This is will become a two part story; but it would take all the fun out of the story if I tell you when it will drop off and pick back up in a squeal. ^_~
Now, on with the story!
I don't own Black Butler, only my OC
Winter chills her lovely face
beneath the moonlight glow
fallen from the midnight sky
an angel in the snow
Kneeling down to clear the way
I lift her from the ground
Gently in my soft warm hands
She never makes a sound
Warming her with hope tonight
And feeding her with love
Hand her all my precious faith
And prayed to God above
Fallen angel clings to me
Then rises in the night
Turns around and smiles at me
Now vanishes from sight
Winter chills my barren soul
Beneath a lover's moon
In my heart I feel the love
A lilting angel's tune
January 11th, 1875
The snow gently fell across the city of London, with many seeking shelter from the chilly air and cold flakes that would hit parts of their uncovered body. No one in their right mind would be out in the cold winter day, unless you wanted to be stupid enough to go drink to celebrate for one of many reasons, get beyond drunk, and wonder out into the freezing temperatures. They may wrap up to fight off the bitterness, but the moment they start to drink, layer after layer of protection will start to come off. Their body temperatures heat up, extra clothes become a nuisance, and they start to feel like they are invincible. In their minds, they think that the alcohol will keep them warm from the elements, all while they have a good time.
It's true, they will feel warm from the blissful sensation and feel as if they don't need a coat.
But…
That's the furthest thing from the truth—alcohol will make their body colder. Alcohol makes the skin feel warm, but it isn't protecting them from the cold. It will take a few drinks, but when it does happen, the alcohol will cause their blood vessels to dilate, moving warm blood closer to the surface of the skin.
Those who will lose themselves to the alcohol will leave thinking they are invisible. Unstoppable. They could conquer the heavens and hell themselves. Nothing would get in their way. If so, they would tackle it head on.
Only one thing in life that they could tackle head one, yet it was only thing they would never be able to conquer. There is an end to everything in life. End to a story. End to a play. End to a relationship. End to a road. End to a conversation. End to a thunderstorm. End to a fire. End to a Dynasty. End to a love. End to a life.
They wouldn't realize that their fate was set in stone from the moment they were born—the only thing that will stop them tonight is death itself.
Most of those who were stupid enough to do such was finding themselves being subdue by the night's harsh cold temperatures, causing many patrons to die across the center from hypothermia. It was their stupidity that had led to their death; free from the harshness of their daily life by a liquid that would taint their mind and cloud their judgement, only to be brought to death by their actions.
It was also this time of year that kept mortician's very busy and brought in a lot of money. For one mortician; this was his favorite type of year. He was known across all of London and very famous for how beautiful he makes the bodies look, but he was also famous for another reason. He was very insane and was always laughing, even as he worked with his guest's families. They loved his work, yet they hated his personality. He was very fond of death, loved his guest more than anything, and always had a knack for making people uncomfortable. Be it that he scared them by his insane laugh and morbid sense of humor, or his fondness for lurking in the shadows and scaring people by either jumping out of coffins or talking to them without them being able to see him.
No one knows his true name or the story behind his life.
They only know him by one, simple name.
The Undertaker.
The night was as harsh as ever as a shadow lurked the city for any bodies left to be frozen by the lips of the cold dark night. A lone figured walked through the cold dead of night looking for the frozen bodies of people who had been caught out in the snow storm they had earlier that day. At least two feet of snow had fallen on the city of London in the past two days, most of the snow hitting earlier that morning. His tall lean figured was cloaked in black robes with a pair of black boots with sliver buckles poking out from underneath his robe. A gray scarf strapped across his chest and knotted by the hips. A band of prayer beads hanged around his neck as a chain of seven mourning lockets were secured around his hips. His eyes hidden behind the bangs of his long gray hair, with the top of his head being adorn with an old looking top hat with a long tail that reached his hips. When the gentle glow of the moonlight would hit his face, a scar could be seen running diagonally across his face over his nose, a wide grin lurked on his face.
"Hehehe, oh how many foolish drunks will I find tonight~" He sung as he skipped along the snow-covered cobblestone.
The night before he had found at least three drunks completely frozen, it had taken the entire day for them all to thaw out so that he could work on them. Sadly, people that died from nature causes like that were not his favorite customers. They required little work and were done within a short matter of time. All they needed was a little make-up so they looked normal and that was it. It was the ones that came in mangled up and torn into pieces that he loved the most. His grin grew bigger as he thought about the beauty he could create while stitching them up and using a wide-arrange of different types of make-up.
"Oh, how I wish I could find a canvas to make beautiful, hehe~"
Scouting a few more alley ways, the only thing he could find were animals frozen from the cold. Nothing he could do with those, as he wasn't too keen on bringing dead animals back to his parlor. He loved the smell of his customers, but the smell of dead animals was a whole different matter, one that he didn't care for. Checking down another ally, his face lit up like a kid who entered a candy shop.
A man sat up against the wall, his head slumped over into his chest. His form was covered in at least inch of snow.
"Ah, it seems I've found my next guest~" Creeping up to the body, he poked his fingernail into the man's cheek, making sure the man was dead, and not alive somehow. To someone walking by, it was very apparent that the man was dead, but when her poked his fingernail, his flesh was still soft and felt a small amount of warmth coming from his cheek. Digging his hand into his robe, he pulled out a mirror and held it up under the man's nose, watching a small part of the mirror fog up silent. Which meant only one thing to the poor mortician.
This man was very much alive.
"Uh…I need another drink." The man muttered as he rolled his head back into the wall, lightly snoring.
"Aw, this is no good, there's no chance in being my guest while you are alive~" He whined as he pocketed the mirror and slipped out the ally way. He looked up at the night sky, watching as the snow turn from a gentle snowfall into a heavy snowfall. Holding up a fingernail to his lips, he tilted his head to the side was he watched the moon glowing at its full potential. It was a beautiful sight indeed, to watch the moon glow in the light of the heavy snow. It was almost as beautiful as some of the guest he has worked on, making them look beautiful to the point they were considered perfect. It was not only his job, but his passion to make every single guest look perfect; as they were more perfect and beautiful dead than they were alive.
"Best to return home now to get the shop in order; there will be plenty of guest tomorrow."
Linking his arms together into his sleeves, he started to head back toward his parlor. Humans were such fickle creatures; people were told that if the weather was to get worse, that they should remain indoors and not to leave their house unless it was an absolute emergency or if their position was either with the Scotland Yard or the Royal London Hospital. Of course, there are people in the world will never take heed to warnings such as that and will continue to do their own thing. Alcoholics were perfect examples; they couldn't survive without having a drink for that day, they needed their fix. They would risk everything to have their fix; even if that meant they had to get out in a blizzard just for one drink. Most people would have a sense to keep something for emergencies, but not everyone was like that. Normal people would shut down the pubs, causing a lot of them wonder the streets trying to find either an open pub or store; those were the ones who were the mostly like to die from hypothermia and frost bite.
People who couldn't afford to stay home and needed to work were often found amongst those frozen to death. It was mainly people who worked on the docks, ships, and fishermen that faced hypothermia from accidently falling into the cold, fringed waters.
You wouldn't think it, but all the brothels had strictly kept women inside and they were forbidden from leaving the building. If a man were to come, they would offer services and even let them stay the night and eat; all for a high price. Most women who lived on their own would open their home to a man for a price as well.
Three things made the world revolved in circles; money, sex, and power.
It was those three things that will make a person, but it was also set to doom them as well.
"Humans can be so fickle...greed will undo them if they don't watch." He grinned, his eyes casting to the side as he saw two drunks stumble out of a pub and down the street; trying to support one another as they walk on home. With the way the snow was coming down and seeing the two without gloves and a heavy coat, he had no doubt he would see one, if not both in his parlor by the end of the week.
Shrugging his shoulders, he started back toward the parlor, watching several other drunks pass him on his way. He passed one lady, who even though it was freezing cold and close to midnight, she was still looking for some company for the night…no doubt for a high price. He watched as she called out toward him, making him stop in his tracks, keeping his back to her.
"You look awfully lonely; do you need some company tonight?" Her voice had that seductive tone, like a succubus on the hunt for her pray. Her dark hair was covered in flakes of snow, the small bow in her hair was now white, the true color hiding beneath the snow. Her dark blue dress nearly blended in with darkness that surrounded her.
"Hehe, thanks for the offer dearie, but I'm going to have to pass."
She made her way out of the shadows toward him, a seductive smirk came across her face, her arms linking through one of his. Pressing against him for warmth, she slid one hand into his sleeves, two of her fingers creeping crawling up his arm. "Aw, are you sure? I'd be happy to keep you company and leave you smiling for days."
"Hmmm…tempting offer, dearie~"
"So, what do I need to push the offer through?"
"~Well…" He slid his hands out of his sleeves and ran his long black nail across her cheek down to the edge of her chin, a twisted grin creeping across his face. "if you were to come in as my guest you could keep my company; but you'd have to be dead."
Her hands released his arm as she staggered back slightly, her eyes widen in fear. "W-What are you saying?"
His fingernail dragged underneath her chin and pushed her chin to make her look at him as he spoke as his twisted grin grew across his face. "I'd be able to help you look so beautiful and perfect for your funeral, heehee~"
"You've lost your mind, you crazy old man!" She scuffed as she ran back into the shadows from which she came from. The Undertaker couldn't help but laugh hysterically at the situation. He had no need for a prostitute, but he did have a need for a laugh. Tormenting her had made his day better since he couldn't find any guest to take him. He was right about one thing; he would've made her look beautiful if she was dead; being alive at that moment, showed that she really wasn't all that beautiful. At least to him she wasn't.
"Eheheheh, that made up for the time spent out here~"
Stepping a foot into the direction of where his parlor was located, there was rather loud clap of thunder and a sudden, yet quick flash of light that seemed to light up the cold, dead of night. Looking up toward the sky where the flash of light had come from, he tilted his head as he watched something fall toward the East End of the city. Maybe it was something off a building that got struck by lightning? Perhaps something fell from out of the sky from a far and mysterious place? If it is to land in the East End like it's heading towards, then it wouldn't be long before someone would find and do whatever it takes to sell whatever it was for the damn Queen's coins, just so they could escape from their pitiful life of poverty.
The flakes fall almost slowly and air is almost still, but it is so thick that it almost obscures the view completely. As he looked upwards he watched as the crystals fall, like oversized cotton balls, towards him. The gale whips each flake, so pretty on its own, into a projectile that hurts unguarded skin. Amongst the beautiful snow fall, something fell quietly and slowly down toward his face, rubbing right under his nose, causing him to break out in a hysterical laugh from the tickling sensation.
"Ehehehehehe! What do we have here~" He snickered as he grabbed the soft yet delicate object that laid underneath his nose. Eyes widen as he rubbed his fingers over the top of it. It was a feather that was pure white as the snow that was currently falling. The softness reminded him of a bed of cottons and it was delicate like a porcelain doll that could break just by a single touch. Why would a single feather fall from the sky? Was it carried away by the wind? Where would something like this even come from? So many questions ran through his mind, as he absently stroked the feather. Looking back up toward the sky, he noticed a few other feathers were being carried off by the wind. A couple of them were stained with drops of crimson red, mostly toward the lower part of the feather. What animal possessed such beautiful feathers to begin with?
"Beautiful, yet very delicate…just like humans. How interesting~" He mused as he followed the direction the feathers were floating from.
It was apparent that the feathers were coming from the East End, which was there the object he watched fall from the sky was heading. Who in their right mind would think about venturing out into the East End of the city this time of night? In the middle of a snow storm and frigid temperatures? Well, luckily for the Undertaker, he wasn't right in his mind at all and the weather didn't bother him one single bit. Especially now that his mind is preoccupied with finding out just who or what these feathers belong too.
Deciding that it would be a lot quicker to hop over roof tops, as he could see everything that was surrounding the city. The trail of feathers kept leading him deeper and deeper into the East End. His ears could pick up the soft sounds of people walking, trash cans being knocked over by drunks, and people fighting the cold before they fall victim to the cold dead of night.
"Hehe, looks like I'll be having some guests in the morning~" Undertaker sang as he hoped along a few more roofs. He frowned as the number of feathers there were, as he knew as many as he has passed, that there was no way they could belong to a bird, even if it was a swan, there shouldn't have been that many feathers. Even so, the more feathers he was passing, the more they were dyed in a crimson color. Meaning, there was only thing that these feathers came from.
These feathers…they must come from…
His train of thought broken as the last feather passed him, his eyes widen at the sight of it. No longer did it look like the beautiful snow fall, no, it was now tainted completely in crimson red blood. It was soaked through and through, dripping tiny droplets of blood as the wind carried it away.
Jumping down into the ally below where he stood; his eyes focusing on what laid in front of him as he got close enough to clearly see what was before him.
An angel.
Lying in the middle of the snow, laid a woman outstretched in the snow. Her ivory white dress nearly blended in with the snow…if it wasn't for the large amount of blood that soaked her dress. The back of her dress was open from her shoulders to her lower back, two long gashes that went down on each side of the spine were open by an inch and slowly bleeding out. Her long pure white hair blended in with the snow, with some of the edges tainted with her blood. Breath pale against the numbing air, frost patiently kissed her face and body, leaving a chill of red blemishes on her white peach skin. Her eyes were halfway closed as the soft, dusty illusions of light sat heavy on her eyelashes. He wasn't sure what color her eyes were, all he could see was that they were dark and dull.
Amongst the blood and darkness, a gentle white glow illuminated from her entire being. Comparing the glow to that of an angel in heaven, it was a pale and dull glow, but to him; it was beautiful. Just like her fallen feathers. She was indeed a fallen angel.
"Hehehe, a fallen angel, eh? My, you are as beautiful and fragile as the feathers that once belonged to you~" He mused as he bent down to inspect the poor angel. Judging by the shallow movements of her chest and her pale clouded breath with every exhale she gave, it was very apparent she was still alive. Laying his hand against her blemished cheek, he could feel that she was chilled, yet feel her body still give off enough heat to help fight the bitter cold. His thumb traced over her pale pink lips that gave off a slight blueish tint, watching as her eyes completely close the rest of the way.
His eyes ran to the to the two large gashes along her back, his face scrunched at the sight of them. The gashes were at least a foot long running down in a straight line, with an inch or two in width. Something like that on a mere human would be rather painful and almost fatal; they would have either a chance of dying from blood loss or a massive infection. It was apparent that she was in pain, it was etched on her delicate face.
"I'm curious to know what you did to fall, most curious indeed~" He mused as he removed his robe, laying down onto the snow next to the angel. Bending back down, he brushed the hair out of her face as he spoke. "This may hurt a bit, so bear with me dearie." Gently and carefully, he rolled her over onto her back, watching as she withered in pain under his hands, a faint groan left her lips as she laid on his robe. It was the best he could to keep the wounds covered from any foreign object entering and causing an infection. Slipping one arm underneath her shoulder, just above where the gash began, propping her up enough to slip his other arm underneath her knees, lifting her with no issue at all. He knew she had to be in pain from the position he had to hold her in, but it was the only way to hold her without causing further injury to the wounds on her back.
"H-Hey, you there, old man!"
Hiccup.
The Undertaker frowned at the voice from behind, turning to see a drunken middle-aged fool standing directly behind him. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, the other hand propped on the wall, trying to keep him steady. His eyes were glazed over from the amount of liquor that was in his system, as it was enough that Undertaker could smell it from where he stood. The man staggered a little, taking a gulp of the remainder whiskey he had left in his bottle. Whipping his mouth with his sleeve, he gave a drunk laugh as he pointed his bottle at the two. "It's not nice to hog a prostitute like that."
"Prostitute, eh? Hehehe, you have the wrong idea~"
Hiccup. The drunken fool scratched his greasy head as he stumbled a little toward him. There was mischievous glint in his eyes, one that was not friendly and full of evil intent. Undertaker tightened his grip on the fallen angel, causing a twinge of pain shoot across her face as a small gasp slipped through her lips. He knew that he needed to get her out of the cold and back to his parlor before her condition got worse, but there was something he needed to do first.
To take care of this drunken fool.
"Oh, she likes it rough, huh? I'll make the slag scream and bleed worse than you did." Hiccup.
Menacing grin crept across his face as he started to cackle. "Oh, you'd think I'd so something so terrible to this angel~" Wagging his finger with the hand that was wrapped around her shoulders, his grin grew wider as his eyes peaked through his bangs. "You're the worst type of human there is; you're nothing but a drunken fool who would hurt an innocent person without a second thought."
Within a blink of an eye, Undertaker was now standing behind the drunk man, who stumbled forwards and fell face first into the snow in surprise. He wasn't sure when or how the man got right behind him, without even noticing him past him. Flipping over onto his back, he saw the cold murderous glare coming from beneath the gray headed man. The snow underneath the man turned a little yellow as he shudders uncontrollably underneath the powerful glare.
"If it wasn't for this delicate fallen angel, you would've been dead by now. If I ever catch you again doing something like this…well you know what awaits you~" He sang with a smile as he turned his back on the drunken fool.
Not giving a second look, he started to sprint back to the parlor. Luckily enough, it wasn't that far from the East End as it sat in the middle of London; making it easy for everyone to reach without having to go far.
For someone as insane as he is; he was exceptionally smart when it came down to business.
My, my, I wish this angel was awake…I'm curious to know what she did to fall out of grace.
It was an unusual circumstance to see an angel fall; even more so to meet one. Normally, once they were cast out of heaven, they were sent automatically to hell; only until a judgement from God could be passed. It was either spend a little time in hell until you got your grace back and was let back into heaven or to spend the rest of eternity in hell. So, for an angel to fall straight from heaven and land in the realm in between the two; that was something almost unheard of. In all his years, Undertaker had seen maybe two angels fall, but he had never met them, as they plunged into hell so fast that it happened in the blink of an eye.
Angels often have no problem interfering in the affairs of other races; they are often annoying and acted as if they were the most important beings to ever be created.
At least, that was what the Undertaker was always taught. He really didn't care if someone was human, angel, demon, or grim reaper. Races weren't important to him; he dealt with everyone, so it never bothered him.
He kicked the door open to his parlor as quick as he kicked it shut. He walked straight past the front room where he kept some of his coffins and interacting with his customers, heading straight to the back of his parlor, where his work shop was. Extending his arms, he gently rolled the woman onto her stomach, laying his now bloody robe onto a chair that sat in the corner of the room. Lighting the candles along the wall and the chandelier, he now had a fully lit room to work with. It was a decent size room that was about as big as the front room. The work shop had a metal table in the center of the room that he worked on his quest with. Multiple shelves surrounded the room, filled with beakers, books, test tubes, work interments, and jars filled with random organs.
Taking out towels, water, topical cream, and stiches; he started to get the work on the fallen angel. The wounds on her back should've been healing already, yet the only thing that has happened as the blood finally stopped and started to finally clot. Dipping the towel into the water, he worked on cleaning the dry blood and dirt off her back and around the wounds. Rubbing the blood and dirt off her back was the easy part, the harder part was that every time he got near or inside of the wound, he could feel every single muscle in her body tense up underneath his touch and a faint cry would escape her lips.
When he had heard the first whimper come from her, his entire body froze as he stared down at her. It was an unusual sound, one that he was not very familiar with. It had been eight and half years since he last heard a sound like that. Undertaker knew that she was going to cry with every touch to her wounds, but they had to be cleaned. He had to focus, blocking out each cry would help him clean the wounds faster. It would hurt more if he stopped with every little cry she would make. The more he heard her cry, the more he solely focused in on the wounds. The people he works our always quiet, since they are dead. So, to hear someone he is working on to cry was a tad bit weird…and out of the norm for the mortician. That said a lot, as it took a lot to weird out such an insane mortician.
It was once that he finished cleaning the wounds and the area around it that he could see the full extent of the gashes. They weren't exactly deep enough to see the bones, but he could see a lot of tissue and muscle; these types of wounds would have a high probability of killing any normal human. Being a fallen angel, she was an immortal being, so this shouldn't kill her, but it doesn't explain why her wounds weren't healing at a normal rate a typical angel would heal. Was it because she was fallen? Did she lose some of her abilities when she fell out of heaven? No. That couldn't be it.
Her body is still emanating a pale glow, so she still has some of her angelic abilities. Fallen angels ended up keeping their abilities, but become very unstable and have a habit of losing their minds. Most angels that end up in hell with little to no angelic abilities, slowly end up turning into a demon and spend the rest of their eternity devouring souls and fighting against angels. Fallen angels were almost as dangerous as demons, but they still have…their wings.
Something finally went off inside of the insane mortician's head as it finally dawned on him.
The vertical gashes with wide widths. The wounds not healing like they would on a normal angel. The pain from the wounds. Massive number of feathers that scattered in the wind; falling from a beautiful snow white to an even more beautiful crimson red.
She was stripped of her wings.
If the wide gashes and exceptional amount of blood that soaked into her dress, was to give any kind of indication. It was the simple fact that she was stripped of her wings, in a very brutal and unmerciful way. Tch. They could be such hypotrichs. States they show mercy and are peaceful beings; yet they will be brutal and show no mercy to their own kind if they do the littlest thing wrong.
It was going to take some serious stitching for her wounds to close all the way; at least 40 stitches on each side. The internal wounds would heal without a problem, as some of them started to heal now, but that's the extent of what would be healed. Wounds like that should heal with no problems, leaving no scars as angels were known for being completely and utterly perfect. Due to her wings being ripped straight from her back and becoming a fallen angel; she will have very long scars down her back. To the angels, she will be an example of having to turn into a fallen angel. Her scars will be the blemish of her perfection, they will be the painful and hideous reminders that she would have to live with every single day. Once considered beautiful, she will be considered ugly.
If you were to ask an angel; she's imperfect, hideous, worthless, filthy, and insignificant. Nothing more, nothing less. There would be no need to describe her any more than what had already been said.
If you were to ask the Undertaker; he would tell you that her scars are what make her beautiful. They are what make her perfect, more perfect than she was before when she had her wings. To him, she would be the essence of beauty and perfection.
Grabbing the needle and thread, he stood over her left side, judging about how he wanted to start sewing her up. Running a hand over her head, he leaned over her with a gentle smile spreading across his lips. "Don't worry dearie, I promise to make you look absolutely beautiful."
Threading the needle, he decided it would be to start from the base of her back and work his way up to her shoulder. Slowly, he popped the needle through the closet edge of the wound to him and started to sew away from himself.
Either she passed out from the pain and blood loss or what, it had appeared that the immediate edge of the wound had become numb and he was able to pierce the skin with little to no discomfort as he didn't hear a whimper from her like he first did when he started on cleaning her wounds.
There was a different when stitching up someone who was live, rather than dead; he had to make sure that kept as close to the edge as possible without it hemorrhaging and releasing the stitch. Not one to make such a rookie mistake such as that, he knew he would just have to a little extra careful and make every single stitch perfect.
He started to the left of the wound with an initial holding stitch. Inserting the needle downwards through the layer of the skin. Leveling off the needle, he ventured through the wound and to the adjacent wall of the wound. Once he got across the other side of the wound, he returned the needle to the skin surface on the same exact spot on the opposite side from where he had started. After reaching the right-hand side of the wound, he started to make a diagonal path across the wound again to the next point. Repeating this process, zig-zagging his way to the top of the wound, he made to tie off the stitches in a decent knot that wouldn't come undone or rip…he hoped.
Glancing up at the clock, he saw it was well past two in the morning, which meant he probably spent a good hour on just stitching one of the two wounds. Sighing, he walked to the other side, inspecting the wound more closely. It was just slightly worse than the other, if he had to guess this wound way maybe just half an inch longer with a quarter inch longer in width. At first glance, one would not notice the difference, but when you look more closely, it was a little different from the other side.
"It appears whoever did this has a dominate right hand." He mused quietly as he started to work on the other side of her back. Not making another sound yet again as he stuck the needle through, he started on his zig-zag pattern. It was truly wonder if she hadn't passed out from both the pain and lack of blood loss. Reaching the top of her wound, he tied the exact same knot at the top of the wound.
Taking the antibiotic ointment, he gently covered each side with a layer of the antibiotic cream. Even though dressing the wounds wasn't probably necessary, he wasn't sure what abilities she had or if any after her fall, so it would be better to take extra precautions just in case she had lost all her abilities. Laying the dressing over her back, he taped down the gauze in four different spots to keep a decent hold without restricting breathing room for the wounds.
Moving to wash his hands in the bowl that sat on the table behind him. Drying off his hands, he turned back to the fallen angel that laid across his table before him.
"Eehehe, I did my best dearie to make them even on both sides." He giggled as he inspected his handiwork. The left wound required 31 stitches, while the right wound required 33 stitches, an extra stitch at the top and bottom of the wound.
Glancing up at the clock again, it was now going on three in the morning and there was so much left to be done.
The easy part was out of the way.
Now came the hard part; what the hell was he supposed to do with her dress and how was he supposed to change her?
Folding his arms across his chest, a frown swept across his face as he looked down at her. Ivory dress that stretched down to the top of her feet, was nearly drenched in her blood. Ends of her snow-white hair were stained crimson red. The sight of the blood didn't bother one bit, hell, nothing really bothered him much, he didn't really care for the smell, but he'd take that over the smell of rotting flesh and meat any day of the week. The issue was, he didn't want to leave her in the dress she wore; it wouldn't be nice to leave a young lady in a blood-soaked dress. Even though it did give him great access to the wounds on her back, he still needed to come up with a different solution.
"Hmm, what could I put on the fallen angel~" He sang as he walked over to the sink, filling up another bowl, laying one towel in the bowel and throwing another towel over his arm. Working on washing the blood out of her hair, he mused over the thought of what he could.
If the wounds were located anywhere else other than her back, I could easily slip her into a gown. Between the location and extent of the stitches, I need easy access to clean them and bandage them. Well…I guess it can't be helped, there's only one thing I can do~
Once the blood was out of her hair, he quickly dried the ends off with the other towel. He gathered her hair together and laid it over her shoulder, that way it wouldn't aggravate the dressings on her back any.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he disappeared out of his shop, he walked up the stairs that was adjacent to the door, into one of the two bedrooms that was up there. Slipping into one of the bedrooms, he walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a black sheet.
"Hope she isn't easily frighten lady~"
Skipping quietly down the steps, he stepped back into lab to find her in the exact same place he had left her, she almost seemed lifeless. Like she was dead. Placing two fingers gently against her throat, he could feel a pulse. Weak, but still beating in a normal rhythm or what one could be called normal for an angel. Who really knows how the body of an angel works? If she was to die, he would use her body as an experiment, just to see if the inside of an angel was any different a human.
"I'm curious to know why she fell, yet I'm curious to know what she looks like inside~"
Ghosting his fingers up her arms to her shoulders, his hands undid the button that held the dress together at her neck, his fingers nimbly slipped into the opening of her dress, gently dragging it down. While the dress was slipping down her body, he couldn't help but admire the silk feeling of her white peach toned skin. He expected nothing less from the fallen angel; she was the aspect of beauty, and he just made her even more beautiful with the stitches that trailed down her back. Once the dress reached the bottom of her back, he stopped for a quick second and grabbed the sheet that he had brought down. Fanning out the sheet, he draped it over the top of her back, stretching down to the back of her thighs. Returning his hands to grab the remainder of her dress, he slipped down off her hips and down her legs, pulling the sheet behind her as he finishes taking it off her. Throwing it on top of his robe that laid in the chair, he returned his attention back to the injured angel.
"There we are, dearie. Sorry, this is the best I could~" He giggled as he ran another hand over the back of her head. Her hair was as soft as the feathers from her wings. A snicker snuck out of his mouth as he watched her sleep for a minute. Her delicate faces looked as she was sleeping peacefully, yet he could see a glint of dolefulness that was etched into her features.
His eyes which hid beneath his bangs soften slightly as he blew out all the candles in his lab. She shouldn't be up anytime soon and it would be better to close everything in case someone wanted to pay an early morning visit. Knowing that he would be flooded with customers as soon as the sun would rise and people would start finding the bodies of people who were out in the snow; it was set to be busy the next day or two. Moving up the stairs and into the other bedroom that was his, he managed to remove his boots and shirt, before he collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. Even though he was used to having times where he stayed up for nearly an entire day, he was getting old. Hell, he was old. His mind started to drift off into different places, a giggle slipped past his lips as he thought about making that coffin for that prostitute that tried to get him that night.
"Hehe…she'd be perfect in a red wood coffin~"
Little did he know that back down in his lab, a dull, yet equally beautiful pair of sapphire blue eyes had snapped opened. Taking in the very dark world that surrounded those sapphire eyes at that very moment in time.
