Uh you might be a bit confused at first (it's a bit of a prologue) but it makes sense at the end I promise :)
Disclaimer for whole series: I do not own kuroshitsuji, or the thumbnail. But everything else is mine, methinks.
Enjoy.
PROLOGUE
Death Takes A Holiday
SHALL I TELL YOU A SECRET?
My name is Death.
It might sound crude, but I watch people die. That's just what I do. It sounds cruel, doesn't it? But it's not. I am not a cruel being - I am fair.
It's very simple: when someone is dying, I will find them. My hands will caress their fragile body and my words will soothe them: "It's okay" I'll say, "it will end soon". And then I will watch as their eyes burn into me. Slowly… slowly, the life will drain out of those eyes, and I am left gazing at the empty shell of a body, where life is extinct.
They always stare at me – I am the last thing they see. Sad, isn't it? Me…I am their parting gift. I always feel like an uninvited guest, as I watch the people around that empty body. Most of the time, there are tears – so many tears. But I have never cried. I cannot afford to let such human things as 'emotions' cripple my appetite.
But yes, they do look at me. Many of them don't see me, of course – that would cause for complications when I fail to extract their souls. Sometimes I'm not quick enough you see, and I am cheated.
Nonetheless there are people who can see me, during their final heartbeats. I can't imagine what they must see - I am not even sure what I look like myself. But sometimes I can see it in their eyes that they know I'm there. And as I gaze into their knowing stare, I wonder…What do they see? Do they see a kind, convivial figure? Or something deeply disturbing? I suppose I shall never know myself.
Usually, it's the children who can see me. They're young, so their imaginations have not been wounded by the dull routine of life. They're open to the possibility of anything happening. It's always a little harder to take a child's soul – it's always so pure, so innocent. They have so much more to give…
But I do. I take their souls just like I take everyone's soul. Supposedly, you are wondering how I do it – find every dying human being and end their life. I don't particularly know myself, to be frank. I suppose I am omnipresent – everywhere. I can not only be in two places at once, but in thousands. Perhaps every second is slower for me, so I can cope with the numbers. However it is as I said: I do not even know myself.
You could think that I am a fool for not knowing. However, I could say the same thing right back at you: why are you here? You have simply accepted your existence, have you not? I don't see youexplaining how you got here, in this world of yours.
Nonetheless, it is this world of yours that I find ever so fascinating. Every second I watch it, I am baffled by the complexity of what you human beings have created here. Never had I thought that it would end up like this…
Ah, where are my manners? I have become side tracked, derailed from the original purpose of this story. However, 'story' does sound ever so...narrative. This is not a story, dear reader. This is a report, a statement as such. This is not false.
...
On one blustery, autumn day I found myself wandering through a common old town. One of the advantages of being such an...omnipresent being, is that I can simply drift across this place which you call 'Earth' without any real purpose. I can explore what you human beings have created here. I must say, I do compliment you. You have created something quite magnificent.
A PASSING THOUGHT OF DEATH
Perhaps that will be your downfall.
Ah, so sorry, my sweet little reader. Do not be afraid, I did not mean to scareyou. Sometimes my thoughts simply tumble out across the page. However, that was not a prediction. That was a statement.
Because one day, this place you call home will come crashing down. You human beings like to create stories of an apocalypse, and I would like to take this opportunity to confirm them. No, your end may not come through zombies or vampires or other such mythical creatures you have created; nor through a giant flood almost resembling something biblical. No, please control your imaginations.
But one day, it will end.
Ah, there I go again. I apologise, dear reader. I am so very easily distracted from the purpose of this 'story'. So as I was saying, I was drifting along through a common old town...
An immeasurable amount of time previously...
November hits the small English town of Hult, drying the fresh green leaves from the trees. They crackle as they glide through the cool bluster and onto the grassy earth.
One girl sits there, under this tree which is being robbed of leaves by a thief named Wind. But as my eyes focus on her, I realize why I have been drawn here.
The girl is dying.
She clutches her chest, her shirt already blooming crimson. It is a beautiful sight to see. Red has always been my favourite colour.
Many make the foolish mistake of connoting me to dark colours, like black or grey. How monotonous. No, I prefer the bolder colours – namely, red. This is not because of its relation to blood and other such gore. It is simply because scarlet reminds me of one thing many people lack: passion. The colour red reminds me of a single thing I have never witnessed inside of myself, despite my timeless existence: love.
Oh no, don't get me wrong. I have seen love. I see it often, when I collect the spirits of human beings. I watch their loved ones cry or moan or other such grievances. People react differently to witnessing their lover dying.
But never have I felt that emotion; it is such a trivial, human thing. And that is why I like the colour red. It reminds me of love, which is such a foreign emotion to me. It baffles me, that enigma.
Yet as I watch this girl dying, I feel something in the pit of my stomach. Something telling me that she is the one. I find myself being drawn to her, until I am right beside her crumpled form.
Her hair is long and auburn, matching the blood which is staining her white blouse; part of some sort of school uniform. Her slender (too slender?) form is shaking as her pale hands try to keep the blood inside her body. It is a feeble attempt, and she knows that. It is written across her thin features, including her dark, crimson eyes.
"Oh God no...Help..." she whimpers. I wonder how she has achieved this state. I stand and survey the area.
We are on a hilltop. Below us stretches the town of Hult, with its grey buildings and dull streets. Everything is orderly; seemingly designed for practicality rather than some place you could call home. It looks like something of a ghost town, with all of its inhabitants surely in a deep slumber. According to the moon, it is the early hours of the morning. How long has this child been here?
I gaze around, hunting for any other form of life. But there is nothing but this bleeding girl and myself. There is no one to comfort her as she leaves this world. How pitiful.
"Wh...who are you?" she whispers, hoarsely. I look behind me, expecting to see another person. But no...She is looking directly at me.
"I am Death" I say. That is another trait I pride myself in: I am honest. You will never find me flowering the truth with unnecessary words.
"Hello, Death" she smiles meekly. "Tell me...How much longer will it take?"
"Not long, now...Within the hour, perhaps"
"That is good" she says quietly, resting her head on the tree trunk.
I gaze at her, pondering. She seems to be happy, somehow. Like she doesn't mind; as though she has accepted her fate. It is saddening to watch, somehow.
How strange though, that this girl can see me. Usually they are not able to, particularly when they are not children. Yes, this is a child – but only just. She has reached adolescence – she must be at least sixteen years of age. It is mostly the toddlers who have the unwanted pleasure of seeing me.
"What do I look like to you?" I ask, because I have never been able to. Usually I must take their souls quickly...But not today. She is not yet ready; I have arrived far too early. That is odd, for I have never before arrived this early at a death scene. At least, not since the last time I was called as a demon...Ah, yes I remember -
"I do not see a person...there is simply a...form. It is indescribable." The girl answers my question, bringing me back to present day.
"Is that so? I never knew."
She smiles, "well, now you do"
"Thank you,"
"Happy to help" she laughs quietly, then cringes at the pain it causes, "this is bizarre"
I smile. I have never before had an actual conversation with a human before dying. This girl is really something...
"It's a shame," her eyes are sad, "I would do a lot of things to keep living"
I watch her. She looks so pathetically human, lying there by that tree doused in her own blood. A notice now that a dagger sits beside her, covered in her own blood. It is clear that she has been attacked. My next words flow out of my mouth without my realizing:
"Would you sell your soul to a demon?"
That makes her think for a while. She picks up the knife beside her, and twists it in her hands. She seems to be entranced by the metallic glint it gives off in the moonlight. At last, she replies:
"Yes, I suppose I would. If I were given the opportunity."
"Really? That is surprising. I would not have expected a young girl like yourself to desire such a thing"
"What makes you think so?" It is a sensible question, and I pause before answering truthfully.
"There is too much goodness in you," I have never complimented a human so outright before. Is this what 'love' feels like? Being so...Comfortable?
"I don't want my soul. Take it." She murmurs defiantly. I see that her life is becoming shorter by the minute. It won't be long before I must indeed take her soul. But as whom? Death or Demon?
"You are that desperate?"
"Yes. There are things I must do."
I frown. There is a definite look of determination on her face: she is serious. Perhaps she wishes for revenge against whoever put her in this state.
I suppose that I should make you aware of one small but significant fact: I am not simply Death. I am everything about death: heaven, hell; time, life. As I have said, I am omnipresent: everywhere. I can be an angel in one place and a demon in another. I can even take a physical form, and walk about the earth freely whilst everything else continues. I live a million different existences.
"I can take the form of a demon, and help you to carry out your mission. In return, I may devour your soul."
"How?"
"You will have to make a contract with me. However, once you have rejected faith, it is impossible for one to pass through the gates of heaven."
The girl laughs bitterly, although I can see that it is hurting her. "I would never have entered the heavens anyway, in whatever life I could have lead after this"
"Then I shall ask you only once: is it your wish to form a contract?"
"Yes."
"Very well,"
The once calm, cool breeze has transformed into a stormy fluster. The leaves are ripped off of the tree sheltering us, and I feel my present self slip away from the rest of me. Death will continue without me; for I am a demon now, sentenced to watch over this strange girl who has been doused in my favourite colour.
I would not be able to describe to you how this works, because I do not know myself. I am omnipresent after all, not omniscient. Death is not a physical being, you see. I am a thing; a presence. But now, in the form of a demon, I am a person.
You may ask why Death may take on the form of a demon. Why not just take their soul?
Ah, my curious little reader. There are certain people – like this child in front of me – who do not wish for their souls to continue. It would be an awful clutter, for so many unwanted souls to be circulating the universe. So demons solve this problem. We take the soul and feed it to hell. Likewise, an angel may take the spirit and feed it to heaven, but this does not earn the soul bearer another chance at life on Earth.
A demon not only finishes souls, but it also devours them. It is far, far nicer to take a soul in the form of a demon rather than in the form of Death in general. When I take a soul in the form of a demon, it is incredibly tasty. I am allowed to indulge in the flavour, and savour the aroma of a spirit. And besides, as a demon I can pass some time in this form, have a little fun. Experience 'love', maybe. What can I say? Being Death has its quirks. I need a holiday, as such.
I look down at my body. I have taken the form of a butler. How strange. We usually do take on the form of a human being, but it's rare that one should find a demon in the shape of a butler. Perhaps this girl is a noble, then.
I bow to the girl. "My Lady."
Her crimson eyes are wide, "I never dreamed...Never thought for a moment that would actually work" I frown.
"Do you regret your decision?"
She pauses for a while, thinking. "No." she offers me a hand, and I take it, pulling her up from the ground. Her blouse is stained with blood, but her wounds will have healed. A bonus of making a contract with a demon: if you were dying due to a wound, it will be healed.
"Then I must mark your body," I tell her, "it will be a sign of our contract"
"Very well. Mark me wherever you wish"
"The contract seal is more powerful the more visible it is. Your eye, perhaps?"
"Fine," she frowns a little, and I press my palm over the socket of her eye.
A jolt of electricity flows through us, and she cripples in pain. Her fingers claw at my hand, trying to prise away the source of such agony. But within a few seconds, it is done.
She is on the floor once more, panting and clutching her eye. Upon my own hand is a devil's pentagram, which will surely match the mark now etched into her once crimson iris. She will forever hold one red and one purple eye. With that and her long, scarlet hair, she will never again sink into the background amongst human beings.
And she will never again sink into the background to Death. I am a demon, and I shall never leave her side.
"What is your name?" she asks, once she has recovered and stood once more to face me.
"I have no name. I will take whatever title you chose, my Lady"
"Sebastian Michaelis" she says quietly, after deliberating for a significant amount of time. I wonder where that name came from.
"Very well," I reply, as we begin to walk down the hill. "And what should I refer to you as?"
She smiles then chuckles quietly, "Autumn Durless" she replies.
I allow a laugh to escape my lips too. "How fitting" I remark, as we make our way down the grassy mound, our hair being ruffled in unison by the autumn breeze.
So Autumn Durless is reborn in her own season, having sold her soul to the devil and rejected the gates of heaven. This should prove to be quite an interesting vacation.
There's the prologue. What do you think? :) The actual Chapter One will be out soonish - I'm still working on my other story as said, but I was dying to get this out :D
Also, I have a second story called Death Waltz (woo death). It's another Sebastian X OC pairing - completed. Check it out? [after leaving a review, of course!;)]
Thanks for reading!
~Ched.~