Another party and young women in corsets and slender winter boots crowd the ballroom like peacocks in lace and silk. Outside the snow is fluttering delicately and, following the rain that has persisted through the day, is not sticking to the ground. With each opening of the door, cold wind swirls in as almost a tangible entity that whispers on bared necks and hands.
Ciel leaves the party early, in a swish of tailcoats and bad temper. All of this is the same, over and over and nothing entertains particularly, though many young women try their hardest. Perhaps too hard, because Ciel is bored with all this and it doesn't take long before he realizes, heading back to home through the snow that is falling harder, that maybe he shouldn't be too entertained by the bevy of young women crowding around him, because Elizabeth wouldn't be very amused. She had reached 19 in the same way Ciel had; grown into a beautiful thing on the peak of adulthood. Elizabeth is easier to stand now, the idles of childhood having long since been cast aside like ribbons in her hair. She speaks with a woman's voice now and when Ciel opens his mouth, his voice is deeper, his words the same as six years ago, but his appearance has caught up with his mannerisms and thoughts. He's no longer a doll-like child, a toy, and this secretly pleases Ciel, that at least he's not something novel.
It feels like a lifetime since he has taken over the post as the head of the Phantomhive household. But he knows that time and years like this are just mere trifles compared to something old and wicked as Sebastian. This comparison enters his mind when he catches Sebastian's eye across the carriage and his butler smiles.
"Not a particularly riveting party?"
"Of course not," Ciel replies, eyes moving back to the window. The snow is starting to form clumps on protrusions from the ground, such as lamp posts and houses. "Sometimes it seems ridiculous that things such as that are considered necessity. I've got quite a bit of work to do."
"Ah , well, it would seem strange if Lord Phantomhive didn't at least make an appearance."
"You see the dilemma." Which wasn't really that much of a dilemma. It was only, as he said, necessity for someone in high society. He would forever be locked into the world of balls and benefits, while on the side he prowled the dark for the seedier side of what London had to offer. It was truly his place in life, which he had taken to remarkably fast so many years ago.
Sebastian merely lets the words go and doesn't speak again, as Ciel stares outside the carriage, wondering how many snowflakes are in the air, how many millions and if he's running on borrowed time. They both seem like disconnected thoughts, but somehow they correspond in Ciel's mind. There are so many hours in a year, and at times it seems as though so many of them are wasted, falling away like tiny pieces of light ice, melting onto wet ground.
