Ciel would never consider himself to be lucky. Every four leaf clover and horseshoe could never improve his serendipitous chances. But perhaps he was today; he missed the rocks by nothing, the sharp tips making scrapes across his shoulder and chest. Instead he collided with the small area of sand right below the cliffs. The wind was knocked out of him, bringing stars to his eyes and vomit pass his lips, spilling into the grains.
The earl moved to his hands and knees, and slowly up to stand. Exhaustion was beginning to take his toll, pulling his eyelids down to shut completely. He was falling asleep while standing, a soft sigh passing his stained lips before he opened them once more.
Ciel looked around at where he was, resting a hand on the white wall that ran upwards to the top of the small overhanging cliff. There was no way up from the sand, and no way back to the actual beach. All he could do now is give up, to wait for starvation and dehydration to pull him into death's grip. It wouldn't be long for the newly-created wounds and the previous gashes to become infected, and even a shorter amount of time for any hidden wounds or breaks to become known.
"Sebastian!" Ciel called out as loudly as he could with his drained energy. He knew he wouldn't show, but it was worth a try. He waited a few minutes, listening to the threatening waves and licking his salt-tainted lips, which were dry from dehydration already. The boy leaned into the cliff, sliding down to sit at the base instead of stand. His eyes closed, breath uneven and his body aching with pain.
Ciel moved to lay down in the soft sand. He buried his fingers into the cool sand, wiggling them slightly. "Damnata sunt, et Dominus monet et facere ultionem." He whispered, his eyes closing. The earl's breath was slowly down against the sand, each exhale scattering particles. "But revenge is not mine to take." His voice barely made noise, his head beginning to ring.
The earl took his last breath.