Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Count Cain they belong to
Kaori Yuki, from character designs to background information.
Author's Note: I haven't been a big fan for Anime in general, but you
could say that Count Cain has caught my eye, it's something to enjoy.
This will be considering why I do not write in other sections of the
area, and if you are a fan of Count Cain such as I am, then direct
yourself to Yaoi Kitten with her great fan fiction on Count Cain, she
has emerged from twenty and up chapters! I am going to go over the
dramatic limit, so please don't get too upset if I cause you to go into
a relapse for something to a character.
The investigations, the tiresome management of waking up each morning with a heartbreaking curse, the way of life can only be sought out of what you make it to be, or how others may have a affect on your nature, how they perceive you to be some deadly curse to their well being. How eyes are so filled with the dismay of negative emotions, they are always in a frenzy, pulling gazes in to be saved.
This had been on Riff's thoughts for awhile, the way he was now jotting down notes about his young master when he had free time, or when ever Cain had left him behind to go on about with his persuading events, or family tied meetings. Riff was always the one to await by the phone, waiting for his young master to call upon him for help.
Riff had his arms laid out on the desk of the small study room, he
was taking quick glances down at the parchment with the quelled pen of ink. He had been re-reading his notes about how he tried to cure or enlighten Cain, though it always came to the same conclusion; stay at his side forever. Riff didn't mind this, of course, he had devoted himself to the boy. Though something had been bothering Riff lately, it was how Cain's attitude seemed to be changing, the way he would snap at him if misspoken something, but of course they still joked with each other.
There was a small noise: 'Click', Riff glanced up to find that his young master had returned and wandered his way to the study. Riff had a panicked look on his face while his hands searched about the parchments to hide them up under the servant's weekly schedule. Once rising from his chair, Cain gave a smirk to his steward's actions, Cain was now rather suspicious, or just plainly curious.
"Master Cain," Riff spoke up as he pushed out his chair to rest the stack of parchments on the edge of the table, before then pushing the chair back in. Riff made his way to Cain's side to reach his hands out to un-do the long coat from around Cain's neck.
"What were you doing in such a rush, Riff?" Cain asked as he lifted his chin to allow Riff's fingers to explore the buttoning of his jacket, secretly he had enjoyed such movements upon his attire, something that Riff could only do so gracefully.
"Finishing the servant's schedule, sir," Riff answered the question as he was down to the last button, he let that one go un-done as his fingers rolled up Cain's stomach to his chest, and then to Cain's shoulder under the jacket to pull it down, un-looping Cain's right arm from the jacket's socket, only to do it to the left. Once Riff was done he moved his way to the small coat rack, as he carefully hung it there for the time being if Cain decided to go out once again.
"I see," Cain answered though he had been in deep thoughts as Riff worked his way down, he had felt goose bumps arise on his flesh and make the hair on his neck stand up straight. It was sudden that he had gotten the chill from Riff's hands, though he departed himself to see Riff hang up the jacket, "I was deciding if I should attend the mask ball." Cain freely spoke out to Riff all the time, though never really engaged into a conversation unless he needed advice on a case or evidence that was found.
Riff stared at the jacket for a moment as he turned his weight to finally face his young master, he gave a short welcoming smile, "Master Cain, if you do go I am positive you'll have a grand time." Riff was being honest too, he had watched Cain stare at the decorative attire Counts wore, and as well that followed the Dukes.
Cain examined the smile carefully, "If I do go, Riff," he started to explain to his steward as he moved himself away from the door to sit in one of the Louis XVI chairs, that sat next to the table that resided in front of the fire place. "I'd like it if you would accompany me," Cain had abruptly finished.
Riff had no surprised features among his face, he just gave a short nod of understanding, "Of course it is almost required for a Count to go with a steward, it shows fine classmen-ship." Slowly the feeling of pain appeared on Cain's soft features, and at once Riff seemed confused yet oh so very concerned, "Is something troubling you, Master Cain?"
Cain's head had bowed in that second as if in thought.
This gave time for Riff to study his young master carefully, his eyes fell upon Cain's hair, it had been a beautifully brunette color, it was almost as if the withered chestnut leaves of fall, fell down into each strand of loose and un-kept hair. The flesh of Cain almost masked that of milk, though it was laced with the snow of winter, of how paled and yet fair it seemed to be in the smooth masculine features. Though Cain's lithe form marked something greater that passed beyond all years of late adolescence, with his arms draping down the side of his chair, as the mesh of clothing that just barely matched the frame of his dark attire. His legs had been neatly crossed, one ankle over the other. Sometimes Riff had wondered if Cain was even real, or just some type of life-sized porcelain doll, painted with a sad expression.
Cain breathed in, his chest rising as if he had been holding it, only a minute or so had passed before he answered, "No, not at all." Though Cain would never admit to the suffering feeling of Riff tagging along as a steward, he would have much rather had the older man accompany him as a friend. Though in Riff's words, it sounded almost impossible.
Riff gave a false smile in return of his master's response, "Very well then, sir, it is time for you to be groomed, your hair is so untamed." Riff would have smirked, but he had been with Cain long enough that his master allowed his hair to grow very long, until someone either told him so, which he had been up to that job several of times. Though it was his excuse to get out of the matter of the ball, for it seemed to be troubling Cain gravely.
Cain lifted his head, and broke his barrier of deep thought to arise to his feet, he then stole Riff's thought of smirking away to his own lips, "Very well then." He moved over to Riff's side, giving him one of those secret childish pouts, which only Riff would most defiantly recognized.
Riff nodded his head and placed the firm of his right hand on the side of Cain's back to assure him towards the washroom, and obediently Cain had followed through.
I started this months ago.. So I need a review.