The auditorium was dimly lit. The brightest light shone down on the stage where one lucky man's prize was waiting to be bought. Everyone was waiting for the cloak to be pulled and the prize to be revealed. It was rumoured this one was an item of the highest quality, and almost nothing could compare to its strange and quiet beauty. It was said to have the type of innocence you crave to destroy. Fancy gloved hands covered the mouths of those leaning to the left or right and murmuring something to the ones next to them, as the anticipation in the crowd grew stronger by the second.
Finally a man with silky blonde hair and a white shimmering suit stepped up to the cloaked prize and took the corner with his hand. His eyes beneath the golden masquerade mask glinted. In one swift movement the cloak was pulled off the brass cage and fluttered in the air behind him. Inside the cage was a small girl, chained to the brass bars by the ankles and wrists.
She slowly looked up to investigate the unwanted light, and was greeted by an audience of masked faces and small gasps, followed by smiles and even some applauding. The room was filled with whispered remarks of her pale, porcelain skin, and the slightly paler marks that permanently scarred her.
Everyone gasped when her eyes met theirs. Soft grey eyes, an icy green around the pupil. Intensified by a deep hatred and a delicious innocent sorrow everyone wanted to prod at.
As soon as a price was called, she hated everyone in the room. The haze made it hard for her to see and breath, and every breathe she managed made her sick to her stomach. The smell of expensive cologne and cigar smoke made her cough, and she took one final gaze at the disgusting people who shamed her, and let her head hang once again. She studied the brass bottom of her cage and noticed tears splashing against the metal.
She felt defeated, but knew that she wasn't going to give up. She couldn't fight now, she could feel the drugs in her system blurring her thoughts, but she would fight as hard as she could as soon as she saw her chance. She closed her eyes and vowed this the same time a voice called out nearly quadruple the sum of money the last bidder had said.
The voice was higher than the rest, but held more maturity. You could tell by the slightly lifted tone that this person was smirking as they called out the small fortune, knowing that they had won this round.
The auditorium went quiet and all heads turned to the sound of the voice. Blue hair flowed around the indigo mask that Ciel Phantomhive wore over his eyes. He stood in the middle of the walkway between chairs; beside him stood a tall man in a black tailcoat. Slowly he strode forward to claim his prize.
People watched in silent amazement as he walked up the stairs to the stage and held out a large suitcase, supposedly full of the money he just called. The Viscount of Druitt opened the case, and nodded his head. He thanked all for bidding and closed the auction, pulled the curtain and watched in amazement as this young boy walked over to the cage and placed a hand on a bar.
He could've sworn he heard a hiss as the girl snapped her head up to face him, sheer disgust masked the sweet features of her face. He looked back at her in surprise. At first she looked wild and vicious, but upon meeting his eyes hers had softened to a look of pleading. Without saying a word, she was begging him to get her out of there.
"That look is rather familiar," whispered Ciel's butler. Ciel looked up at him in annoyance.
"Hurry up and get her out of here. I want to leave." Ciel snapped back. The butler smirked.
"Yes, my Lord."