This is my attempt at a new story, and also a bit of an experiment with third person omniscient writing. I saw the commercial for the movie 'Wanderlust,' and I absolutely fell in love with that word. It's just such a cool word; wander-lust. Anyway, I'll leave my logophilic tendencies at the author's note and get on with the story!
PS- I'm trying to be more descriptive, so when the characters I made come in, I took care to describe them in detail. I really wanted to create a vivid mental picture, but let me know if it's too much!
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The festival on the frozen Thames River was a London tradition; but the festivities being held this year were staggering in number, and the celebration hadn't been as large as it was in over 60 years.
It was for that reason and that reason alone that Ciel Phantomhive decided to schlep all the way out to the frozen river in the dead of winter.
He and Sebastian were walking the perimeter of the festival, looking around at the stalls. They'd only been there for about twenty minutes, and already Ciel was severely disgusted by the quality of the products he's seen. The next festival they had, he would be certain to set up a Phantomhive booth; they would make a killing.
The pair had just passed a booth selling large sticks of meat when they bumped into their old detective friend, Abberline.
"Ciel-kun!" he cried, surprised.
"Ah, inspector," he said. "How interesting to see a detective so carefree. The city must be in a state of utter peace."
"No, actually, I'm here about a case," the insulted inspector retorted.
"Well then, you'd better get back to work and put the city's tax dollars to good use. Good day, inspector."
Ciel and Sebastian began to amble away, but the inspector reached out to stop them. After a stinging slap from the butler, inspector Abberline stood on the ice rubbing his hand.
"Actually, it's funny that I ran into you. I need your help."
"The Shard of Hope? It's been stolen?"
"Yes," the detective said, taking a sip of his tea. "It was being transported when the cart was ambushed by brigands. We have a source that tells us that there was a double-crossing in the hand off. There was a struggle for the ring and the thief ended up missing. We were hoping you could use your influence to help us find out some information."
"Leave it to me," Ciel boasted, "and I'll have your thief and your ring by sundown."
Sebastian took that to mean that he'd better have the ring by sundown.
"There's only one man I know of who has information on crooked dealings," Ciel said, standing. "We should go there first."
As it turns out, they didn't have to go very far.
"So tell me again why you had a stall set up here?" Ciel asked as the undertaker led them through the crowds. When Ciel and the inspector had walked in through the entrance of his tent, the undertaker had simply led them back outside, saying he would lead them to the information they wanted.
"With all the deaths from frostbite going around, I'd be a fool not to set up a stall here, I would," he answered. "I've had so much fun, prettying up all my customers. That's how I know where to find your precious ring."
He wove them through throngs of Londoners until they came to the center of the ice. There, a large ice sculpture of their beloved queen stood, a testament to their everlasting loyalty to the crown.
"Look closely," Undertaker crowed, pointing to the top of the figure.
No doubt Sebastian saw it the moment he pointed, but it took the humans a bit longer to see. When they did see, however, all they could do was gawk.
How in the world had the Shard of Hope been carved into a statue of ice? Ciel thought, mind reeling. Surely someone would've seen it and wondered how it got put into the river!
"This is most problematic," Sebastian said, putting a finger to his chin. "There's no way to get the ring off in secret, and doing so publicly would most certainly attract the criminals responsible."
"Then we'll commandeer the statue and take it to headquarters, where we'll break it apart," Abberline said, looking around to find the one in charge of such matters.
It wasn't as easy as they thought it would be, however; the sculpture was being given away in a completion, and the judges refused to comply with the inspector. There was no other option than to enter the contest and win, for the sake of solving this case. Abberline and his lackeys entered the contest; Ciel ordered Sebastian to enter, because Ciel knew good and well Abberline didn't stand a chance.
When Ciel stepped up to write Sebastian's name, however, he saw names he hadn't seen in years.
It can't be, he thought, shocked. He quickly penciled in Sebastian's name and hurried away from the booth, trying to hide his outrage. Sebastian noticed, though; mostly by the flush in Ciel's cheeks and the nervous way he looked over his shoulder every five seconds.
He didn't have much time to dwell on the matter, however, because the contest was about to start. Over the course of one hour, the contestants were to build a sculpture from the blocks of ice they'd been given in any form they wanted. Having already discussed the inherent arrogance of the story of Noah and the Ark that morning, Sebastian had a wonderful idea for a sculpture.
When the signal was rung and the contestants put down their chisels, the judging began. It was almost too easy; the inspectors collected a meager five out of a possible fifty, and Lau was disqualified for the lewdness of his statue (although he did receive a ten from that pervert Lord Druitt.)
Sebastian had created a wonderful statue of the Ark, a hulking sculpture of the boat in all its resplendence. He would've been the obvious winner but, being Sebastian, he had to go above and beyond for his Master. When the sun had melted just enough of the roof, he snapped, and the sound waves from that one action were strong enough to split the ice and make the outer shell of the sculpture fall away. Inside the Ark were perfect representations of the pairs of animals, so artfully spawned they looked almost alive.
Of course, he received a perfect score.
There were two more contestants to be scored, but one team had dropped out before the judging began, so their half-finished entry was disqualified. That left only one group, the self-dubbed 'Wanderlust' team.
The girl standing by the sheet was a diminutive child, about Ciel's age. She was breathtaking, with curly red hair and deep green eyes; she looked like a cherub that had come alive one day and walked out of the cathedral. But most striking about her was her clothing. In this day and age, it was only appropriate for young women to wear dresses, but she was wearing a pair of gray pants, meant for a boy of the same size. She also wore a small, button up gray jacket and gray earmuffs. Her hands were encased in a gray hand muff.
The judge approached with a sad expression. "Sorry, little lady, but that one's going to be hard to beat!"
"I wouldn't count on that," she said confidently, her lilting voice indictive of a slight Irish accent.
"Ah, the girl has fire! Alright, let's see what you've got!"
She gently grasped the sheet. "I give you, from team Wanderlust, the Queen's Court!"
She pulled the sheet away. The entire crowd gave an audible gasp.
The sculpture was modeled after the Queen's castle, tall and theatrical while still being regal. The ice had been stressed and chiseled to look like the granite blocks the castle was constructed with, and around the bottom, frostbite had been deliberately allowed to form to look like grass. In the center of the masterpiece were two large doors that sat on real working hinges, so they could be opened and closed. The thinner ice had been molded into the ivy and flowers famous for creeping up the side of the actual castle, and they framed the sides of the stature and curled around sides before gently touching the ground and creating a sort of garden at the base of the sculpture.
It was as though the artist had gone to the Queen's castle in the springtime and captured it perfectly with ice.
Sebastian and his Ark were quickly forgotten. The judge gently pulled on the handles of the door, delighted to find they did in fact open, and walked through it. It was an archway, but the front of it had been so carefully constructed that the judge admitted he'd been expecting to walk into the castle. A small but brave little boy in the front of the crowd asked if he could walk through the arch. After that, the entire crowed gathered around, everyone trying to take a walk through it.
Sebastian reluctantly came back to Ciel's side, his pride wounded. How was it that a mere group of humans could best him, a demon? He would quickly become the laughingstock of Hell if this got out. "Forgive me," he said, bowing his head. "I have failed, Master."
"No," Ciel said softly, his eyes never leaving the sculpture of the castle. "I knew you wouldn't win the moment I laid eyes on that girl."
This surprised Sebastian. "My lord? What would make you think that?"
There was a beat of silence before he answered. "I know her."
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When the initial excitement had died down, the press demanded to get an interview with the girl and all of her teammates for the papers. While they waited for the team to assemble, they asked her how she had ever thought of such a wondrous idea for a sculpture.
She laughed. "Oh, no," she said. "This was not my idea. I was the one who volunteered to represent the group, that's all."
"Then who is the mastermind behind the statue?" an inquisitive reporter asked.
The girl looked over her shoulder. "That would be her."
A group of four teenagers was coming around a row of tents, two boys and two girls. Three of them were wearing outfits identical to the girl's; in a word, gray.
One boy was tall, wearing a large coat that was a bit baggy on him, but Ciel knew from experience that a baggy coat meant more room for hiding things. He was wearing a newsboy hat with his outfit, but when he looked up, he had on a smart-looking pair of glasses. They were thin enough that his shrewd eyes with their piercing gray color showed through. The monochrome color scheme on his outfit only made his eyes stand out more; his dark gray hair wasn't helping any, either.
The second boy had on pretty much the same thing, but he had his hood up instead of a hat. His face was small and cherubic, much like that of the Irish girl's. His short, blonde hair poked out of his hood, and his blue eyes were alight with excitement. He reminded Ciel of Finny almost instantly.
The only girl wearing gray had curly brown hair and soft brown eyes. She was wearing the same sort of outfit the Irish girl had on, but her jacket was more of a poncho. She wore no earmuffs, instead choosing to show off the three piercings she had on each ear. Such a radical look would never be accepted in England, but if this girl knew that, she didn't care. Of all the teenagers in the group, she was the only one he'd never seen before.
The last girl in the group was the her the Irish girl had spoken of, and the one person Ciel had been hoping he wouldn't' have to see.
It would be obvious to any idiot that this girl was the ringleader. While everyone else had on gray in varying styles and shades, she wore black. Her jacket was a tight fitted, double-breasted coat that clung to her form like a second skin. Her pants were practically leggings, and they went straight down into a pair of menacing, black combat boots. Her hair was the color of fresh wheat, and it tumbled out of the black knit cap she had on her head and went down to the middle of her back. Her eyes were stark blue and merciless, just the way he remembered them.
And he hadn't seen this girl in a long time.
The reporters swarmed around them, excited to learn where this genius had been, and did she have any other works out there? She answered their questions with the air that this that nothing she hadn't seen before.
"Why 'Wanderlust'?" one reporter asked.
She smiled. "The term 'wanderlust' is one that refers to the desire humans have to travel, to seek out new things, and go wherever the wind takes them. My friends and I have traveled through much of Europe, and we plan to see much more. We learned about this term when traveling through Germany, and it stuck. I can think of no better word to describe us."
That Ciel believed. Back when he'd known her, she'd always gotten into trouble for wandering off and disappearing for days.
"How did you ever come to recreate the scene of the castle in spring so realistically?" another reporter asked.
"It's not too hard to do once you've been there," she said simply.
None of the other teammates spoke. On the contrary, they seemed happy for their leader to answer for them. Each time a question was directed at them, they looked to the girl and waited for confirmation before answering in tones too quiet for Ciel to hear from where he was standing.
After the reporters left with their information, Abberline ran forward.
"Sorry to bother you young children," he said. "But I have to insist that you allow us to take that statue."
"But it's ours," the blonde boy with the hood said. "We won it."
"Now, now, Mark," the leader said. "Let's let the inspector finish. What is so important about this statue that Scotland Yard has gotten involved?"
"My colleagues and I," Abberline said, pointing to Ciel and his butler, "believe that statue could help us in solving our latest case."
Her eyes followed his finger until they found Ciel's. He twitched; he hadn't looked into these eyes in almost six years.
Her eyes prickled with interest. Without another word to the inspector, she began walking toward him. The rest of her group fell behind her. Abberline watched her go, thoroughly confused.
Ciel wanted to turn and walk away, but to show cowardice in front of this particular person was unacceptable. Despite his instincts, he stood his ground and watched her approach unerringly with his good eye.
She continued to walk toward him until they were only about a foot or so apart. Ciel was unhappy to see that, while he'd only grown about two feet since they last saw each other, she'd gained at least three. She actually had to look down at him to acknowledge.
"Ciel Phantomhive," she said, her voice silky. "It's been a long time."