Black It Out
Slender black legs slithered down the hall, a single light glowing against the walls of the secluded manor hallways. Every now and then the flames of the candle flickered, but never went out as light illuminated the small spaces the man passed by. Corners filled with cobwebs he had yet to find, dust on barren walls where pictures used to hang - though not very many were hung to begin with. Single ringlets of dust sat in the most precarious places, furniture just sitting and waiting to be properly polished, just as always; everyday, of every week, in every month, within every last year that a life had even stepped though the doors of this huge manor.
When Sebastian had reached the end of the corridor, he turned on his heel never once breaking his stride into the all too familiar room. What had it been now? Two years since the incident? He couldn't even remember. A memory so steel bared and impenetrable that it seemed almost a sin that he could have ever forgotten. 'Poor man' he thought to himself constantly, 'oh what a poor servant that I am.' Though, he wondered if he had truly forgotten, or just simply chose to forget such horrid scenes of the past.
He stepped in ever so quietly as if to not wake the spirits that lie within the walls of the room if he stepped too quickly. Never could a soul break free from them though, nor could anyone ever lay here and be freed by time.
Sebastian looked over to the corner in which he had laid buckets of paint; he had already removed the pictures from within this room as well, along with the storybooks that had lain on the bedside table gathering dust. The raven-haired man, tall and slender as the longest shadows in the evening of day passed the bed that once held a small body, one he took care of like a precious child.
He laid the candlestick in the floor next to the buckets of paint, going to open them with long, winding fingers; removing his whitewashed gloves with his teeth before doing so. When he had pried the lids open and put them aside he looked down into the jet mixture he had picked especially for the room that surrounded him.
"Young master would have thought this an appropriate color", he said, a slight crack in his mundane yet pristine voice.
He went to remove his tailcoat, just as black the rest of his attire; he was a raven, a demon, he was as black as night. He fixed himself up, pulling up his sleeves to his white undershirt and then went to grab paintbrushes he had prepared for this task.
He stuck his brush into the first bucket he had opened, pulling out a glistening, jet-black brush that dripped wet paint from the bristles, tilting it over the bucket. Once he had let it set for a moment, he stood and walked over to the first empty wall and streaked the brush across the barren, dull colored surface. He repeated this, no expression or care upon his perfect face.
The demon edged the brush ever so slowly along the surface, building layer after layer until he eventually finished one coat over a small area. He had stopped doing things so quickly anymore; he took his time like humans did, not because he wanted to but because he didn't care anymore. The stained wall began to shade the already dark room even more pitch, almost as if an eclipse had started to take over what would have provided light at one time.
Sebastian continued on, doing just as perfect unlike any human did. He was always meticulous and precise, only going slower for the fact that there was no need to rush anymore.
For whom was he preparing anything anymore? But for a cold, empty seat in the dining room, a barren wasteland of a bed that once held a king with a rusted crown, a bathtub that once washed the richest of the nobles; the one that made his eyes flare up with the deepest desires and passion.
Now plates were filled to the brim with luscious, rich foods for no one but the spirits who cared to partake in the meal. Baths were run to simply hear the sound of waterfalls as close as they could come, and beds were made up because it simply made for a clean and tidy room.
Oh what a shame it was now, to be alone in this mansion, waiting for his master to return, though he knew he was never coming back.
Sebastian continued painting; streaking and marking the walls with the darkest shade there was. His eyes seemed to trace where the paintbrush led and then ended until he began another long stroke. He eventually finished one side of the room, leaving three other walls to be done. He moved over, starting once again on another empty canvas that contrasted the darkness beside it.
Moving slowly but surely, the demon managed to finish all his work in an hour or two, still some what quick for any human, but for a servant of sin it seemed much too slow to be praised. When he had finished, the raven-haired male sat his brush down and took a step back, a thumb and forefinger under his chin as he slowly circled around to look at the whole room before him. The walls seemed to close in on him, white spaces no longer existed or provided any form of comfort; the burning candlestick still sitting in the floor, hot wax dripping down from its remains was the only source of light in the blackened room.
Sebastian's eyes glowed against the dark air, cutting through the night like illuminated blades, his face never once changing from his original still expression. Suddenly, as if someone or something had kicked him in the back of his legs, the demon fell to the ground, sitting on his hands and knees, head hanging like a lowly dog before his Master. Oh but had he ever left him? Had he ever been unfaithful to the one he always followed behind ever so closely, practically his shadow? Had his fidelity ceased to exist once his dear Master had left him forever? No, it had never left; he had never allowed such a thing to occur even after the accident.
He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes glowing an infuriating red that burned through the night, a look that made bloodshed look like child's play. Tears poured from his dry sockets of a thousand or more years, heavy droplets fell to the floor like gunshots against the wooden ground, breaking the utter silence.
'Dear God', he thought, 'I am a creature of Satan and I'm crying like a creature of humanity'.
Demons didn't cry; they had no reason to. The only thing they needed was to suck their victims dry, there was no feeling in their work, there had never been a better understanding then predator and prey in the eyes of any demon who walked the earth. What was he? What kind of a demon fell to its knees in the midst of a meager human who wasn't even alive any longer? What kind of a pathetic being was he?
Sebastian sobbed, he tried hard to stifle his cries as he let his hair hang in his face, tears adhering some of the individual strands to his wet cheeks. How unbecoming of a butler of the Phantomhive family. How disgusting and wretched it was to watch the man fall like he did. How disappointed his Young Master would be in him.
But he wasn't here anymore.
There was no one to slap him across the face and call him an idiot when he acted like one. Though his Master had never done much worse to the demon. Sebastian's eyes widened as his face rose back to ceiling, his voice cracking as he cried out to nothing at all.
"Young Master! Ciel, please come back to the mansion! I'm sorry I wasn't there in time! Oh, Dear god, please come back to me! I have made a callous error!"
No one answered him, no one ever had. In the words of his Young Master,
"There is no God…"
Was this what humans did when they desired the comfort or return of another one of their kind? Sebastian's hands covered his face almost whole, swallowing up his cheeks, the tips of his fingers at his forehead till nothing more than the tip of his chin could be seen through his palms.
He stayed silent for a while, his sobs barely audible as the flame of the wick flickered about until the candle snuffed itself out. Evil spirits lie within these walls; he knew they did because he himself was among them. Listening to the screams; every last morsel of pain that had lingered in this place, he could hear his scream ring in his ears. He could feel the vibrations of its intensity in the back of his brain.
"Dear God, make it stop!" Sebastian screamed, his hands whipping to the side of his head, covering his ears that wouldn't stop echoing the past to him, his mind only reverberating the memories even more. Soon, the beating stopped, the throbbing in the side of his head ceased, everything stopped instantaneously as the demon once again collected himself. He was losing it slowly. He knew he was. A demon losing it, what kind of strange oddity was this?
After a long moment the man stood tall, acting as if nothing had ever happened. His face clean and completely flawless, though still empty and vacant, he turned and picked the candle up from the floor before proceeding out of the room, not bothering to clean up the mess he left.
He headed to the kitchen, for now it was time to prepare dinner. Time to set the table with the finest silver. Time to brings pots and pans to the stovetop. Time to fold napkins with the most delicate care. For no one but the spirits who cared to partake in a meal, if they ever decided to stay for just a while.