Prologue: Pretty Bird
She sat quietly, in the middle of the sea of unfamiliar voices and lust. Not a single twitch or a flinch at every touch they made, petting her like a prized animal. Coos were the sounds she was tired to hear, but accepted them just the same.
It was degrading. It was humiliating. It was dehumanizing.
Yet, she simply closed her eyes and sighed, accepting her fate regardless of what it would be.
She didn't care. She hadn't cared for so long now. She had seen far too much to grieve for her own loss of humanity.
Only thing she could've hoped for was a quick merciful death. A kind death. So much kinder than all the deaths she had been unfortunate to witness.
Then, the plump man shoved her back into her cage—so beautifully gilded and was even supplied with a swinging perch. She was just like a little canary, forever jailed to be speculated and be gawked at. Only, she wouldn't sing and chirp.
Even if they were to bend and snap her wings, she wouldn't sing.
Her songs were worthless.
Clasping together her lock to seal her in and twirling at his feet, the excited man started shouting. He suddenly started talking fast. Impossibly fast. She folded her hands on her lap at this realization. An auction. She was in an auction. She was about to be sold off to the highest bidder. As for bidders, there were many, perhaps hundreds even.
She doesn't know—she couldn't tell. Her audience were under a dim light, their grinning faces concealed by darkness. Only thing that was glowing brightly, was the stage she was on, under a harsh light.
Through this light she could see arms shooting up like fireworks, with a small paper sign. It was a competition. Countless and countless of limbs jerking up to the ceiling, aggressively showing off whatever wealth they had. She could hear the man practically panting like a sick, starving pauper at the sight of a hearty buffet of freshly-cooked foods.
She must be fetching him the highest price tag he'd ever seen in his wasted lifetime.
It was an easy thing to infer, even if she understood very little of their language. She hoped it'd be over soon. She hated the long wait, though she had the patience of a saint. There were little else she could do, if anything at all, so she shut her eyes and waited for the inevitable.
And then, there was silence.
A pure and utterly beautiful silence. She wondered if that was what death must have felt like.
But, oh, shouldn't she have seen the long reel of her past? Her old happiness? It was so odd, felt wrong even.
A voice barked out, much like a dog, but a proud one. And there she heard nothing but a flood of chaos. She didn't even flinch when she heard a long series of explosions—gunshots. It was silent again—what bliss it was.
Her cage rattled. She opened her eyes.
What she saw had her breaths trapped in her throat.
She saw a man; a man who looked like a devil, dressed like a devil—even smiled like a devil. But, oh, he had such kind eyes. The kindest she had seen in for so long. His voice reminded her of her childhood home—warm, safe, and calming. It was like a drug, to make her sleep like a babe.
She had no idea what he said, but he held out his hand anyway, for her to accept. The man pulled his other arm further behind him—a gun. A smoking gun. He smelled like gunpowder and blood.
With a brief glance in the background, she didn't flinch at the sight of an ocean of red and limp bodies. He stepped into her sight, so to hide what he had done. He laughed, when she gave no response but a simple blink.
Indeed, he must be quite a devil who can kill in cold blood but still keep his eyes so kind.
So, she accepted. He gripped her dainty hand and guided her out of her gilded cage. He walked her in between the seeping rivers of blood. The man gestured to other men—they looked like devils too, some even were dressed in white—to open the door. He continued to guide her out of the large room into the long hallway. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, but at the end she saw lights.
And she saw stars and white silver of the sleepy moon. The deep color of the night sky almost had her smiling. She hadn't seen it in so long. Her keepers, now surely dead, kept her in the black darkness and dim artificial lights—she suspected it was to keep her skin pearly white.
The air was bitterly cold, but fresh. Cleansing.
The man allowed her a moment, her hand having slipped from his, so she can count the plentiful stars. Vaguely she heard him talking to men in white, before they quietened. Her elbow became warm, and she saw his kind eyes.
He said something, but she simply nodded.
The man led her into a horse-drawn carriage, gently seating her down. He shut them in and stole the spot across from her. The carriage was warm. It was comfortable even. The man patted on her hand, greeting her sweetly.
She cocked her head at what she thought was his name.
Vincent.
What a kingly-sounding name it was.
Should she give him her name?
Her voice thick with neglect, slipped through her painted lips without her permission. "Kagome."
He smiled brightly—and for a moment she realized that he wasn't a devil, he was a human.
A/N: Since I swore off the drabble fics but had too many ideas to bother me, I settled on the next best thing: a (almost) perfect 1000-worded ficlet. Since I already have a big story to work on, which is Consequences, but wanted to write something else in my spare-spare time over the summer, I decided to take on scenario requests. Two scenarios (#19 and #23, both Yandere Ciel) I did in particular struck me and wouldn't let me go. I was itching to continue off of these two. If you want to read these, you can check out my Love in Archive.
This one will be a fairly small project. I doubt I'll finish this one, but here we go!
FYI, because these scenarios are more or less canon to this ficlet, this will contains a lot of extremely dark implications (thus this is a Dark fic). Some that may make you feel uncomfortable, because Ciel will create most, if not all, of these said implications and of his young age. Sebastian isn't innocent either.