The woman in White

The woman turned her head to stare at him with hooded, dazed eyes that peeked at him from under angelic, dark lashes. The skies released small snowflakes that glimmered like little, frosty crystals as they fell. Everything about the picture was as white as snow; everything was pure and untainted. Even the vegetation that would grow during the spring time was blanketed with a thin layer of white that looked as soft as cotton. The woman herself was covered with white also. Her dress was the colour of white roses and fell to the ground in a delicate curtain of fabrics and the sleeves, though not fabric, were made of white lace, showing knitted images of doves and lilies. Her small, fragile hands were covered by silk gloves that held a milky parasol that shielded her English Rose skin from the sun that seemed to hide behind clouds as white as linen sheets. Her hair fell past her shoulders to the middle of her modest back in variations of straight, waved and even curled. Her hair itself was a cold colour. A colour that made his eyes hurt. It almost blended into all of the white around him and made him feel almost at peace. Certain strands of hair near the front of her side parting were tugged back gently into the silver sea of the rest of her hair and a large amount from the left side which contain the smallest portion of hair was moved back from her gentle features into a small posy of white flowers in her hair.

The girl slowly turned to him and her pale lips opened slightly, soothing him just by gesturing towards him. If it had been anyone else, he would have been tempted. But for some reason, all of the innocence that the woman, no, girl, displayed just made him feel peaceful. Everything just made him want to lay his head in her lap and have her stroke his tresses in the unblemished snow. The girl held onto her parasol and cocked her head slightly, her icy eyes softening as she acknowledged him, much to his pleasure. And then she spoke. Her voice unlike any voice he had heard before. Like one thousand babies cooing, like the hum of a mother that he missed so dearly, like a choir singing to the lord above. Her voice was soft and yet demure at the same time. It was sweet like chocolate and liquorice but somehow, she seemed sad.

"Oh, how you have fallen, my sweet nightingale…" Tears collected at the corners of her eyes but her face still held no blemishes. She was perfect. Even when she was sorrowful, she was perfect.

As he dreamed so sweetly of the enigmatic girl, he didn't want it to end, even if the same dream repeated itself over and over as it had done for the past few moons. But unfortunately for the young boy, every dream had to end when the night was done.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Ciel Phantomhive groaned and rested his head on him palm, closing his cobalt eyes. With his other hand, he used a fork to pick at his salmon salad. He really just wanted to sleep. Just for a little while.

"My lord, did you have trouble sleeping last night or are you just extremely glum?"

Ciel sent a scowl towards his demonic butler in black before yawning quite boldly, not even bothering to cover his mouth. Sebastian seemed unfazed by the response.

"Sebastian, I'm not hungry. I want to sleep." The young boy muttered, rubbing his eyes with a small hand. Sebastian continued to polish the silverware in the mahogany cabinet.

"Did you have a nightmare, Master?" The butler's voice was smooth as melted gold but somehow grated on Ciel's nerves that particular morning. Ciel turned his head in his hand and stared out of the large, sash window to the gloomy English sky. It was mid-Spring in England and, as usual, everyday it rained. It wasn't an odd occurrence. There wasn't usually sun until July. It didn't really bother the young Earl. He was a young boy of 12. Why should the weather bother him? He stayed in the manor most of the time, save the few trips to London now and again, until the party season, where he would stay in the town house until it ended.

Like most children of his age, he despised the parties that the noblemen threw. They were tedious and boring and a complete waste of time. But, being a young boy of such a high status, it was compulsory that he attended them.

"Actually, I had quite pleasant dreams." He murmured through his palm that rubbed his face slowly. Sebastian turned and raised a single, handsome brow, silverware in hand.

"Oh? Then, pardon my asking; are you so tired, my Lord?" Sebastian was curious. His little Lord Phantomhive was demonstrating quite the irregular behaviour that morning. If he had such sweet dreams, then why was he so groggy? Humans never ceased to vex him.

Ciel scoffed and turned his attention to the Salmon salad that was now in disarray.

"Stop asking questions. It's irritating me." Getting up, Ciel removed the linen napkin from his collar and slammed it on the table and stalking out of the Dining room.

"But Master, you have a number of things to do today!"

His hurried sentence was answered merely with a slam of the heavy Dining room door and all Sebastian could do was sigh and continue polishing the silver that was already beyond shining.

OoOoOoOoOoO

The little lord Phantomhive rubbed his face as he slouched at his desk that seemed so large compared to his small form. There was a knock on the door that would surely have echoed throughout the large room, if it hadn't been for all of the expensive furniture filling the spaces neatly.

"Master, a letter from the Queen has arrived." Sebastian's smooth, charming voice called out.

Ciel groaned.

"Enter." His voice was as dull and dreary as the weather outside the window and rang out as almost a mutter. Sebastian entered, striding towards the desk with a serving dish that's silver lid shone in the light of the day. Ciel noted that the presentation that Sebastian thought were necessary for a mere letter was ridiculous. As a child, serving dishes were meant for cakes and sweets. Not boring letters from the damned Queen. Yes, he didn't care if she was the Queen. He'd cuss if he wanted to.

"You shouldn't have such blasphemous thoughts towards our existing monarch, My Lord. She is simply having you fulfil your duties as her Guard dog." Sebastian's voice may have seemed scolding, but Ciel was sure he heard a trace of amusement. Ciel scowled at Sebastian in disgust.

"Who are you calling our existing monarch?! You're a demon!" Ciel seethed through his teeth.

Sebastian sighed for what could have been the fourth time that day.

"Sir, if you would please just open the letter and read it."

Ciel scoffed and sliced the seal off of the envelope with his letter opening knife and brought out the expensive partridge paper, unfolding it and running his eyes over it.

Sebastian stared at his Young Master. He wasn't usually as grouchy as he appeared to be that day. Well, he was entering the rebellious stage, Sebastian acknowledged with annoyance. If he had learned one thing from serving so many masters and mistresses in the past, was that he absolutely detested that period in their puny lives. And the entire crying, angry mood swings, whinging and constant bedroom eyes that came with it. Well, the bedroom eyes were more common from the young mistresses. But occasionally he had served the odd Master who secretly preferred the company of males. But all in all, he utterly despised this time during a human's life.

Ciel groaned and smacked his head against his desk. Sebastian's eyes widened and he immediately rushed towards his young master's side.

"My Lord, are you-"

"Sebastian Michaelis," Ciel's head shot up as he spoke, but the voice was not his. Sebastian's eyes widened even further as a frown made his way to his perfect lips. The voice was soft yet accusing. It was like the sickliest melody he had ever heard. It made him want to rip someone to shreds, and no doubt he would be doing in just that soon. "How dare you touch this child? How dare you taint one of god's divine creations?! How dare you lead this poor, lost Lamb away from the light of our Lord who art in heaven?! You vile, disgusting, abominable creature of darkness!" The voice grew angrier as the Shell of Sebastian's master rose from his chair, defying gravity and apparently, the anatomy of the human body as his spine shifted in the most sickening ways. Sebastian took a step back in disbelief at what he was seeing.

His master's eye patch was torn off by the awesome power that practically exploded from his small body. His eyes were no longer one Cerulean and one showing his purple contract mark, but glowing and icy blue; almost white. So white that they hurt Sebastian's rusty eyes. The lighting in the room seemed to have darkened, the only light radiating off of his Lord, or the being that possessed his Lord.

"God will smite thee! God will purify thee and god will send thee back to the darkest pits of hell were thy resided from! Be warned! Fear his almighty wrath!"

And just like that, all was back to normal. However, the room remained dark, the papers that once were stacked upon the mahogany desk were scattered all over the floor. Sebastian's chest heaved as he looked down at his Master who screamed in immense pain and sobbed uncontrollably. Sebastian did nothing to help but simply stared down at the young boy in disgust. Everything about him seemed ugly at that moment. His child-like innocence, the bawling that came from his lips, even his smell.

The ice in Ciel's eyes faded back to normal as a small trail of drool rolled down to his chin and onto the table which cradled his face gently. The little Lord Phantomhive had no idea what had happened. One moment he was reading and the next, he felt like he had been scorched by ice cold fire, and he was rendered useless. Like the helpless child that he was. Slowly and painfully, he lifted and arm and stretched it towards the butler in black.

"Seba-Sebasti-ian..!" His voice was strained and no doubt, hurt. Sebastian ignored his cry for assistance and backed away slightly, an almost offended expression across his face. His master, his meal… had been touched by goodness; it had been burned by heavenly light. It had been ruined. He glared at his young master in repulsion.

He smelt like heaven. And he hated that.

Tears formed in the corners of Ciel's eyes. It hurt so much. The pain that buzzed through his body like electricity, that pulled and tugged of his nerves, ripping at his muscle and biting into the back of his neck like a savage beast. Why wasn't Sebastian helping him? Why was he looking at him like that? When he reached out, why did he back away? Ciel grew irritated through his pain and stopped the tears from falling, keeping his head hard and his throat clenched.

"S-Sebastian," His voice cracked in pain and anger. "I order you to help me!"

Sebastian's glare disappeared instantly as he came back to his senses, appearing at his Lord's side in almost an instant. It was still him, still his master. And for that, Sebastian was relieved.

Ciel continued to groan and pant through the burning pain as he glowered at Sebastian through the corner of his eyes.

Why did his butler hesitate to help him?