The halls echoed with loud clicking of heels against the floor, causing everything else to fall mute. Not a whisper of the wind or groan of a doors hinges, just these heels clattering along the halls. Who did they belong to? Although the steps were echoing the feet were petite and dainty, like a ballerina's. The shoes, however, were far from a dancer's choice of wear. Tall shafted heeled boots, perhaps three or four inches off the ground. But they were hardly visible from the long gray skirt that dragged along the floor, her feet only peeking out like dogs under a tablecloth. The fabric was shiny and resembled silk, although it of course was some sort of look alike or mixture of fabrics. It climbed up her legs like water and flowed like clouds hugging her waist, looking as if parts were going to be left behind. At the round waist you could tell not every part of a womans outfit was there. Her bottom was quite flat in comparison to the ladies wandering the streets with dresses that thinned the waist and fattened the buttocks. Her waist was thin and delicate, as if it were not enough to support her. The rest of her body was hidden in shadow. A large, long cloak was tightly fastened around her shoulders, covering her chest and arms as it flowed behind her from her brisk walking. The dark hood hiding her pale face in shadow; only red lips pursed out with the tip of her small pearly nose.
Her feet grew quicker as shadows began to form behind her. Her steps retaining their grace but causing the echoing to become less discreet. The red lips parted ever so slightly as her breathing grew more labored from her pace. Then her body jerked and shifted, turning. Her ebony leather glove reached out and grasped the nearest doors handle and violently twisted causing a click to echo through the wood and she pushed. The door swung open with a groan and with another jerk of her body she swung back around and slammed the door shut, it's mechanism clicking in satisfaction.
"Well hello." Sung a smug sound. The woman turned away from the door to gaze across the room at a small boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen. His hair was an odd gray, or was that black? No it certainly was not black. That was for the man standing beside the smaller one's chair. "I don't believe we were expecting guest's, were we Sebastian?" The man looked at her with a blank gaze, only a slight smile to his lips. He was in black. Black tailcoat, black trousers, his hair was even black.
"No sir. This woman isn't even known to you my lord."
"Well then," The boy smirked, placing his hands below his chin to hold up his head. "what to do with her?"
The woman's lips stretched away from each other to show her chaste white teeth. "You may not know me, Master Phantomhive, but I know you."
"That does not interest me." The boy then leaned back in the large desk chair he had occupied as if suddenly disinterested. "Sebastian,"
"Ciel," The woman seemed amused as she stopped his speech. Her slim, fragile hands reached up to the brim of her hood and then pushed the fabric back to reveal her face. "please hear me out before you go sicking your dog on me." Her face was a powdery white, smooth and crisp with youth, maybe nineteen or twenty. Her iris' such a pale blue it was a bit unnerving, and her hair. How dark and mousy it was; almost black but… not quite.
The boy only stared for a moment before returning to his nonchalant gaze. "Fine." He waved his hand as if it was hardly of importance. "Sit." The man in black, Sebastian grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and set in in front of the desk. He took a step back and slightly nodded his upper half as he placed his white gloved hand over his heart.
The woman ignored the chair and walked straight up to the boy's desk. She roughly placed her hands on it, hunching over it as her eyes burrowed into him, with the smirk still on her lips. "I hear you fancy games, Lord Phantomhive."