Author's note!
Hey guys, so this is my first Kuroshitsuji fanfic. It's also my first fanfic in about 10 years. It's also my first fanfic containing an OC. (As a general rule I hate OC's). Let's just go with this story has a lot or firsts in it. Before we begin I'd like to get a few things out of the way.
1. This was not originally supposed to be a fanfiction. I was writing about a girl named Lucy, and then the characters just worked their magic. To anyone who knows, I feel that we as authors do not write stories. We are simply the messengers who transcribe the lives of others (be they fictional or otherwise) to share with the world. Thus, my characters have minds of their own.
2. I apologize in advance for any and all OOC happenings, because I'm sure there will be plenty.
3. I'm going to rate this M because it may or may not get graphic later. There will be no smut. I foresee no smut or romance. So unless the characters decide differently, this is not a love story. Sorry to disappoint.
Finally, I'd like to thank you all for reading, and please review! Be honest, but try not to be too harsh. Thanks!
~Ellie
P.S. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!
**DISCLAIMER** I do nit own Kuroshitsuji. That belongs to Yana Toboso. I make no money off of this at all.
Chapter One
Ever since I was little, I knew I was different. I could see things - colors - others couldn't. Some were vibrant, others dull, but everybody had one.
I never really had friends growing up. I spent most of my time writing in a small journal. I wrote about the colors. When I was home, I was usually in my room, writing. My parents didn't like it. I told them about the colors once when I was little; never made that mistake again. After that, I think they were afraid of me. On my 18th birthday, they kicked me out baca use they finally could. But that was okay, because by then I spent most nights out wandering.
So now I meander around with just a duffel bag and a backpack, watching the colors.
My name is Lucy, and I live by the light of the moon.
*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*
The first time was an accident. His name was Justin and I thought his color was pretty. He didn't seem to mind my weirdness all that much, and he was kinda weird, too. I thought I finally had a friend. Then one night, he kissed me. It was my first kiss, and I didn't really know what to do, but that kiss has haunted me ever since.
We were in Cottington Cemetery where we liked to hang out sometimes. Thinking back on it, I guess it's ironic. He looked down at me in the moonlight.
"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever known."
I blushed because, well, people didn't ever really say that to me. I mean, I was slim, and had a full-ish figure, but people couldn't get passed the oddness of my personality. He brushed a piece of my hair away from my face, and his hand lingered on my cheek. He leaned in to kiss me, and I kissed him back. It was the sweetest tasting kiss you could ever imagine. His lips were warm at first. Then they became cold. Too cold. I opened my eyes to see the last of his color fade away as he slumped to the ground. The taste of the kiss faded, too. I looked at Justin, dead in front of me, and raised a hand to my lips. And yet, I wasn't horrified. Which was weird. I felt a calm welling up inside me; a fullness I'd never experienced before. I thought of all the times we had had together, but suddenly, they were from Justin's point of view. I could also see his childhood; things he'd described to me, as well as things I could have never known. I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't know what to do. So I did what felt natural to me: i picked up my bags and left. Justin was found later, and officially died of "natural causes" whatever the Hell that means. I still didn't get it. I knew I had caused his death, but I didn't understand how, and I wasn't upset like I should have been. I wasn't horrified that I had killed someone. Strangely enough, it felt natural.
Weeks passed, and the peaceful fullness that I had felt faded away. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I wanted it back. I continued to wander the streets, until one might a man approached me.
"Hey, what's a pretty girl like you doing out alone at night?" He was quite obviously drunk.
"Piss off."
"Woah, there. I dun' want to hurt ya. I just want to make sure yer okay."
"I'm fine. Now piss off."
He didn't take the hint. No, instead he grabbed me by the wrist.
"How 'bout a goodnight kiss, then? Huh?"
He wasn't stronger than me. I could've gotten away. But something clicked in my brain, something instinctual, and I let him kiss me.
His color was a gross shade of tan, almost murky brown, and when he kissed me, it tasted terrible. Not like the alcohol he reeked of, just bad. I couldn't really describe it.
I kept my eyes open this time, and sure enough, his color drained. It seemed to flow out of his lips and into mine. He fell to the ground and I left him there without a second thought.
The fullness was back. It wasn't as good as the first time, nor did it last as long, but it was back. I started noticing the looks people gave me at night. I became a predator; my prey the scum of the streets. More colors faded away.
I tried not to stay in the same area for long. I could walk for miles and not get tired, even with my bags. I guess I had never noticed it before. Then again, I guess I never needed to. Now I was passing through multiple cities in a night. I was faster than I had thought.
I still didn't understand it, I just knew I liked the taste of the colors; I liked the effect they had on me. So this went on for a while. Some nights I had one color, some nights three. It all depended in the quality of the color and how much I craved.
I found that the prettier the color, the better the taste, and the longer the effect lasted.
One night, I met a man with a deep purple color. It was vibrant and I decided I would have it the moment I saw it. It didn't take me long. I was getting better at this, but once I drained his color, another man appeared.
This man looked normal enough. He wore a black business suit, his hair was neatly trimmed, and he had on glasses. There were only two things off about him. One was the weird metal stick he carried. It wasn't quite a walking stick, and it had a bladed clamp at the one end. The other thing was his color. He didn't have one.
I had never met anyone without a color before. I didn't know why he didn't have one, but I want very eager to find out. When he approached me, though, I found I didn't have much choice.
"Are you Miss Lucy Beilschmidt?"
"Who wants to know?" I tried to appear calm, but I was freaking out.
"My name is William T. Spears. I would like to have a word with you."
"Well, William, I don't really want to talk to you." I turned to walk away but he moved to block my path in an instant.
"I don't think you understand."
"How did- who are you?"
"I see I have your attention. Now, tell me, Lucy, what have you done with those souls?"