Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN KURO~!
A/N: A new story…yay?
I'll meet you when the clock strikes twelve, for that is the witching hour, and the time that I dwell.
1886
He liked this field. It always brought a strange sense of nostalgia over him, and throughout the time he had spent in the divine he had come to realize that he felt safest here. In the spot he was standing now. Soft brown dirt, long un-kept hairs of green ever growing grass. Something was always missing though. There were flowers, weeds and insects. There was the vast openness of the sky above, and the ring of forest surrounding. His eyes narrowed minutely and he instantly felt that all to familiar pain of disappointment in his chest. He really was different than the others, wasn't he? He wasn't supposed to feel anything BUT happiness, like all the others. But he still felt the hurt of being left to fight for himself and to die alone. He still felt regret for not being able to remember, and frustration at all of these other useless feelings. Was it obvious, that he wasn't like everyone around him? It was only when he was here though, standing in this spot that he felt like this. His hands clenched together, pale nails digging into papery pastel skin.
"What is wrong, dear?" Ciel started at the harp sung voice that sounded beside him, and turned up his pure oceanic gaze to meet the warm lavender one. The woman beside him was tall and slender, hair cropped short and sweet, and it hugged her sharp cheekbones with grace and care. She was smiling her usual permanent smile, and while it never failed to warm Ciel in some way, it didn't bring him that joy today.
"I do not know." He groaned in aggravation and turned his attention back to his porcelain bare feet.
"You are confused?" Though she stated it as a question, there was a defiant undertone of knowing. The boy nodded.
"Yes." At length he added: "I am different than the others." The woman cocked her head, her white silk and lavender violet cloth dress swayed with the small movement in rhythm.
"Why do you say that, dear Ciel? You are simply more…grounded, than the others."
"I have not fallen to earth, have I?" And the child's voice cracked.
"Of course not, dear. Of course not! You are just more aware than the rest. Learn to control that, and you should be fine."
"How? How do I control emotions when they help me understand what had happened in my past?" The woman cocked a thin brow, and her gaze shifted to where they were standing. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and a crow sounded distantly sudden in the woods nearby.
"You can start by not coming here anymore, Ciel." Her voice was stern.
"Why, Angela?"
"It is not healthy to visit the place in which you last were. It is earth bound, and by seeking here out everyday you become earth bound as well." Ciel sighed, the dirt itching the pads of his feet as he shifted uncomfortably.
"It is a feeling of nostalgia, Angela. I have to know what is missing here before I can clear my mind." Angela regarded him solemnly, attention shifting in almost anxious beats to the overgrown forests.
"Nostalgia?" She whispered, drawing Ciel's eyes to her once more.
"I hope to find out the meaning this place brings me."
"Dear Ciel, for all we know it could be a flower that has withered and caused the change in this place. That could be giving you your feelings of wrong."
"No," He stated, almost too harshly, so he stumbled over his next words in an apologetic rush: "I meant, that it is missing someone. I…last time I was here, I was…I was with someone. It is not a bent flower that is causing this." Angela regarded him with a strict gaze, unwavering dark violet, and the crow cawed its wary call again, closer now.
"Let us go." She hastened, long fingered hand coming to wrap around Ciel's wrist as she shifted her weight on her toes. The ripping of clothing made Ciel turn his gaze away in mock embarrassment, although he knew from many times before that it was just the back of her dress. Feathers tickled and caressed his cheeks in soft promising whispers, and Ciel felt his heart sink even more.
"I cannot even sail above the world I left behind." He whispered, eyes trying their hardest not to gaze out to the miraculous wings that had grown like weeds out between Angela's fair shoulder blades.
"All in good time child." She kissed his head like a mother would, and carried him off, drifting like a lost ribbon over the place this child refused to leave behind. The crow in the woods gave a shrieking call of worn, and took off of the branches it was perched. It landed gently in the field, the spot on which the dirt was over turned where the child had been standing. It lay there for some time, ruffling its sleek ebony washed feathers in brown and green, and only when night began to fall, and the town's lit up the oil watchers lamps, did the crow give one final caw and depart. The only thing that remained was a single black feather, lain gently across the patch of dead weeds and thorns where the boy's lifeless body had once lay…
There was something exquisite about watching the sun set from where he was perched in the sky. The sun would lower, rays lazy arms stretching out over the town's horizon in colors of rosemary and clementine. The oil lamps would spark to life, illuminating dark corners of deserted alleys and shops overhang of rain washed bricks. The town Ciel grew up in was quaint at night, and he couldn't help but feel saddened as he watched from above the world he had left behind. He hadn't even made it past half of his life, dying at the age of fourteen. Still so young. He sighed, bringing his knees up to his chest in a somewhat comforting type of gesture. Later he spotted him. Every night, around twelve o' clock, when the chronometer roared out low and high, a figure clothed in the night would appear at the base of said tower. He would withdraw for a second, only to reappear at the rim around the watch, his bare dark nailed feet dangling above the walkways and shops shingled roofs. Ciel could never get a good glimpse at the man who sat atop the tower, but he could tell that he had ebony shined hair, and red piercing wine painted eyes. And always after a while of sitting the man would turn his head up into the dark dark sky, and spot Ciel among the stars. He would grin then, a smile so sweet it brought with it a malice type of warmth, before the dark cloaked man would give a small tilt of his head and disappear; leaving behind a thin black crow feather in his place.
After he would vanish, Ciel would make his way across the chilled dark air to the clock tower, and gingerly would he sit where the man had been seated. Always, the stones under him were warm, and always he would feel content. Ciel would then pick up the feather, and brush it experimentally against his cheek. It would leave behind a trail of warmth that he had not known existed.
The boy never seemed to notice the hint of lavender, that followed him like a shadow…