A/N: Hello everyone, so as you know, um, it's been about 5 months(?) since the last update? Thank you for your patience while I've been away. Health-wise I wasn't doing all that great, and work is crazy with the plague and all, but I'm doing better now. Also, I have a blog for this tale now! I thought it would be good to have one for updates and anything else. Just something cool for communication in case y'all are into that? I have a couple of posts up *nervous sweat*
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Moving on:
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Again, sorry for the wait.
Disclaimer: I, ABitterRabbit do not own Kuroshitsuji nor any of its characters, they all belong to the wonderful Yana Toboso! Except for my OCs, concepts, and original plot.
As always, read and review if you feel it's merited!
Chapter VI: That Rabbit, Sticks and Stones
"Waiting is the great vocation of the dispossessed." — Mary Gordon
Somehow, between scattered piles of case files and possible leads, Fred Abberline managed to hear the rap at the door.
Hunched over his desk whie he leaned his head against his hand, the young inspector had enough presence of mind to look up when the door creaked open.
"Pardon the intrusion, Inspector." The officer tilted his head in respect.
"Hobbs?" The older man rubbed his eyes, "Oh, yes the files. Tell Commissioner Randall that I'm organizing the latest robbery files as we speak." Randall had been in a particularly foul mood since Earl Phantomhive had taken control of the Bluebeard case. Thus, the Yard did its best to solve a newer string of thefts in London. He stood up to gather up his research.
"I'm not here for the files, Sir."
"Oh?"
"He's back, sir." Hobbs shifted his weight, "I did my best to get 'im to leave, Inspector, really I did. But he ain't havin' it. Says he won't leave 'til you speak with 'im, and he's shiverin' like a wet dog out there."
"Send him in."
Hobbs left with a nod.
Abberline tidied up his workspace as much as possible while the constable brought his visitor. Fixing his attire and hair, he exhaled. A quick rap on the door and in walked the Anslow boy. His lips were chapped and there was a lethargy about him that worried Fred. Far too much had happened to the lad in such a short timeframe. The inspector couldn't help but fret about the child's ability to cope.
Hugh's steps squelched—his shoes soaked through.
"Good afternoon." The man gestured to the seat across from his desk, "Please take a seat, I'll have someone bring you a hot beverage."
The lad didn't move an inch from his spot by the door, "Sir, what do you know about the East end?"
Fred couldn't keep the alarm from showing on his features despite acting as though he hadn't heard the boy.
"Here, this will help you keep warm," one hand offered a thick blanket.
Hugh's lips pressed together as the grip he had on his satchel tightened, "I don't need a blanket. I need you to help me."
"Come now, lad. Don't be stubborn. You look as though you'll collapse at any mo—"
"Listen to me!" A surprisingly strong shove sent Abberline back a step. A tense beat followed.
The boy gingerly pressed a worn letter into his hand. Despite having seen it countless times over the week, Fred opened it. Only for his eyes to widen in bewildered surprise. A gold ring lay stuck to the paper by clumsily poured wax. A glance to the child's burnt fingers made the inspector's stomach sink all the more.
"Where did you get this?"
"Something is wrong, I know it. Mary would never leave without m—", his voice wavered and he stared at the weathered boards under his feet before continuing, "She wouldn't abandon us."
"I understand that these have been difficult times for you, truly I do. But the letter clearly states she left for personal reasons related to a family member in need and accepted the fact that it meant she forfeited her wages for the month. Miss Hargrove left all effects—save those she bought herself. There was no struggle, nor signs of forceful departure." The man exhaled, "I'm truly sorry, Hugh...but Mary Hargrove left of her own free will."
"But what if she's been stolen away? Who knows what sort of horrible things they might do to her?!" Every line of the boy's face showed how the maid's departure ate him up inside. Mary wasn't like that. She cared about them.
"There is no doubt in my mind that she's doing just fine with her cousin."
. . .
There she stood, biting her tongue as the taller servant all but shoved the silverware into her arms.
"Polish these, please. Properly this time, if you will."
This was the third time.
The third damned time that the Phantomhive butler sent her to re-polish his bloody precious cutlery. And he damn well knew what he was doing. It was no secret that the new hire was the only other staff member capable of carrying out her chores with no accidents. Which only made her fume all the more to be the focus of this man's bullying.
Ever since the little incident in the parlour room that one morning, Sebastian seemed to snap at her heels every second of every day. He hadn't outright attacked her yet, but he was a tad rougher with her than the others. The girl knew perfectly well that it was no mistake on his part.
It was a clear reminder that her stay was unwelcome, and should she misbehave, it would be a brief one at that.
And so, instead of shoving the silverware down his trousers, she replied, "Yes, Mr Michaelis."
His eyes searched for the slightest spark of anger in her face. It merely fueled her aim to keep that tepid expression on her face. It felt good to see him displeased if only a little.
She sat down at the table and paid him no mind, focusing on her task. When he failed to leave in the following three seconds, she spoke without eye-contact, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr Michaelis?" Her grip on the gleaming butter knife was tight. She hated being alone with him. He made the air heavy and uncomfortable with his presence and did not even attempt to smother it. It was no better than working next to a fuse that could off and blow your torso into pieces at any moment.
To say she had slept in the last week would have been a lie, closing her eyes brought the image of burning coals to mind and she was left holed up in her room until morning. The rabbit kit had been a wonderful distraction in those hours; someone to provide a bit of warmth and silent companionship in the dark.
"I'm sure you are aware of the particular set of skills Phantomhive servants are required to possess."
"How to slit a throat surely, as washing bedclothes is abnormally problematic in this household."
The spoon was snatched from her fingers, and the butler eyed her impassively. "Indeed, and so far, I have only seen a rather mediocre survival instinct from our newest hire."
"Mr Michaelis, if you have a point, please get to it. I can't have you distracting me from my cutlery lest I do a poor job—again." The girl sighed in annoyance, trying to grab the utensil only for Sebastian to deftly avoid her swipe. Her nose twitched at his clear lack of respect. Really? The bastard could at least pretend to give a damn about acting like her supervisor. "And your skills as a supervisor are no better than a chimney sweeps. What kind of butler treats a maid like this?"
He stopped for a moment, eyeing her.
A second went by and Sybil feared she'd made him angry with her criticism. However, he simply placed the spoon back in her hand. A bit rough, and no doubt annoyed, but her spine was still where it should be.
" I expect to see you in the garden at five o'clock sharp tomorrow afternoon for an evaluation."
"...we're going to fight."
"In the basest sense, yes."
The demon might as well have grown another head with the way she looked up at him.
"Are you out of your mind? Only an idiot would try to fight something like you!" She gestured anxiously.
"Correct, but rest assured, I would never consider you a serious opponent." His blatant disregard hit a nerve, but Sybil knew better than to give him a reason to think otherwise. "This is merely an assessment of your capacity to protect the manor and its contents. I have my hands rather full with the young master as it is."
"I'm not doing this, butler. It's completely unnecessary, you just claimed I have mediocre skills! Not to mention you already have three trained killers. I'm sure they'd be just as likely to bark on command as stab a bloke in the eye with a whisk." She twirled around to continue her polishing, only for Sebastian to speak again.
"Ah, my apologies. I seem to have mistakenly given you the impression that you have a choice." She didn't have to look at him to know he was positively beaming. She could tell just by the way her skin crawled and the prickle in bones.
A little growl bubbled up from between her clenched teeth. Still, she congratulated herself on not banging her head against the table in frustration.
The maid simply went back to her cutlery, and when he didn't leave immediately asked, "Mr Michaelis, don't you have things to do? A job, perhaps?"
A stern look and he was off to no doubt imagine what sound her neck would make under his oxfords.
. . .
Despite having a demon as his butler, Ciel's disbelief of the supernatural still held some ground. A lone blue eye stared listlessly at the documents under his pen. Sebastian was, for all intents and purposes, the epitome of the unholy monsters that one learned to fear in myth and Mass.
Their meeting had been ingrained in his memory for good.
A grinning beast.
But the new maid?
Hardly.
She was not much taller than himself a mere inch or two. And there was nothing particularly eye-catching about her, if anything, she was easy to overlook—to miss. Yet to say she was plain-looking was another error. The contrast of hair and eyes would be difficult to miss, and even so one could easily forget she was there. The whole situation was inherently strange.
Sebastian seemed an idiot to the ways of humanity and if not for the unordinary backgrounds of his staff, the butler would no doubt raise many questions. He appeared far too lax at times, but being the arrogant bastard that he was, the demon no doubt found it all quite amusing.
But even the contract butler had no definite answer about the girl. The boy laughed dryly. Good for nothing.
The boy frowned, leaning back in his seat and twirling his pen in thought.
Just what exactly had he placed in his service?
With a shake of his head, Ciel focused his gaze to the letter he'd opened earlier. Madame Red's funeral had come and gone, though there was still the matter of her will to attend to. He did not need her inheritance, but that bumbling lawyer Morrison insisted on doing the proper paperwork. Dinner and then a few signatures and the matter would be taken care of.
A crash from the garden and the familiar wails of Finny coaxed an exhale from the young earl as he got back to work on a new line of Funtom toys and masks for Christmas profits.
. . .
The days seemed to blur together at the manor, only distinguishable by the particular flavour of havoc she'd be cleaning up that day. At least the brownie had given her someone to talk to, as rare as those moments were.
Now?
Now she had the displeasure of one nosey demon treating her like some beast of burden.
After their little conversation in the servants' hall, Sybil's chest was tight. The anxiety felt like she'd suddenly decided to swallow a small boulder and choke on it half-way down. Silver eyes narrowed, picturing the butler's face as she crushed dock leaves. Overgrown Hell-grade bag of hot air.
The creature's dread and anger swirled dangerously in her gut. Recalling the way she'd been thrown about and even stepped on back in London, it was wise to anticipate not a scrap of leniency from the demon. She clenched her teeth. No, he'd blatantly told her he would get to the wick of her by any means necessary.
"Oi, Finny, how many times have I told you can't just go jumping in any bush?"
"But I didn't want the cats to eat the baby birds!"
Sybil blinked and pinned the last of her laundry before balancing the basket on her hip and following the sound of the gardener's sniffles.
Bard stood over a tearful Finnian, whose complexion had seen much better days. His arms and the right side of his face and neck were splotchy and littered with raised bumps. A puff of air escaped her, shoulder sagging and yet another mishap. How were these humans not dead yet? A dry grin on her lips she shook her head. They were so ridiculously destructive.
"And what mischief are you planning today?" Sybil asked, making the two servants turn to look at her. To say she'd had several close calls during the several days since she'd begun her forced stay would not be an exaggeration. Bard had set her skirts on fire, Finnian had just barely run her over with the cart, and Mey Rin…Mey Rin hadn't done anything dangerous as of yet. Well, she did spill tea on her the other day, but she'd hardly roll over and die from some hot water.
Still, the creature couldn't quite muster up any ire whenever they botched things up. Probably because a certain someone was too busy using it all up. Another sigh. Sybil did quite a lot of that lately.
"Ah! Sybil! Erm, y' see what happened was-", the American panicked the moment he saw the butler's cousin. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and considering the little incident with the dynamite two days ago, their rapport with the newest staff member was nearly non-existent.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear Bard explaining the mess Finny had caused, but all she could really focus on was how much they reminded her of the Anslow children. A gaggle of troublemakers seemed to await her at every turn.
"-and so, Finny just stuck his arms in some nettle to grab the birds, and now he's swelling up like a frog after eatin' a bee."
"You don't say." Sybil raised a dark eyebrow with a neutral expression.
Then gestured to the laundry basket on her hip, "Bard, could you take this back inside? I'll take care of Finny." With an uncertain glance at the younger blond, the cook took the basket from her and went on his way. He couldn't help but worry that they would get an earful from Sebastian when he found out. Though judging by past experience, Sybil hadn't ratted them out just yet. She didn't seem like the type.
After Finny showed Sybil where he'd found the nest, she gathered some plants along with a bowl and they hid from the December cold inside the greenhouse.
"You'll be just fine, stinging nettle's a quick fix if you know how." She crushed dock leaves and hedge nettle into some fresh mud, "So you're fond of birds?"
"Yes! I love birds! I had a pet bird once, but he...passed away." The last part ended with a forlorn look on his face, and Sybil found that it was an expression that didn't suit him.
Sybil hummed, "There was an old barn cat I knew as a child, but I can't say I've ever had a pet. Though to have something as skittish as a bird to come near you is impressive. They're usually far too wary of humans for that sort of thing."
The gardener blushed at the praise, a large grin brightened his features.
Sybil spread the cool mixture onto his arm, "Are you only fond of birds then?"
. . .
Mey Rin sobbed, "I'm so sorry!"
They hadn't even made it to two weeks with the new hire and they'd already pushed her out the window.
Sybil lay in her cot, knee swollen and deformed from her fall.
She and Mey Rin had been airing out the library.
As Sybil rearranged the curtains, the sniper had tripped on her undone laces and knocked into the smaller maid, sending her out the window. To Finny's credit, he'd caught her, except his catch had been more of a tackle and the force had dislocated Sybil's right knee.
So there she was, three anxious and penitent killers-for-hire sniffling and blubbering about her awful-looking joint. Well, Bard wasn't crying, but did he look rather horrified by the sheer size of it.
A tired sigh made the girl's shoulder sag.
"I'm alright. It was an accident—a dangerous one—but I'm still breathing." She gestured, "This is why we don't run indoors, someone might get hurt." The trio flinched at the last part.
Honestly, they reminded her of the Anslow children quite a bit. Except for the near accidental manslaughter, of course. Not that she wasn't a tad miffed, but being cross with the silly geese required more energy than she wanted to spend. It was all rather funny, actually.
Judging by the collection of firearms they kept up on the roof and the odd stick of dynamite in the kitchen, they'd certainly done far worse than push a maid out a window.
"I-I swear I didn't mean to hurt you, Sybil! If I just hadn't caught you—" Finny's face was flushed from how hard he'd cried, and she wondered if he could even see because of how swollen they were.
"If you hadn't caught me you'd be cleaning a red stain off the master's lawn." The little laugh that escaped her confused the servants, but there was an ease about her that made their muscles relax. "You're all fussing too much."
A quick rap at the door made them glance behind them, and in came their supervisor. There was a tick in his brown at the trio who seemed rather unaffected by how far behind schedule they were. His gaze zeroed in on Sybil for a fraction of a second, but just as quickly dismissed her.
"Seeing as you're all here, I assume the dinner preparations, gardens, and table setting are taken care of? We are expecting a guest for dinner this evening. I'm quite sure you recall as I reminded you this morning."
"Y' see, Sybil may or may not have fallen out of a win—"
"Pushed, thrown, shoved—details really." The cook choked at the little maid's interruption, gaping at her. She responded with a quaint little shrug.
Sebastian's face seemed far too bland considering his cousin's injury. Bard's eyebrow quirked. Was there some bad blood between them? The war veteran found it difficult to believe. Sybil worked efficiently and without hiccups. Ironically, the butler appeared to demand more from her than the others and even made her clean up after them on top of her own chores. The girl seemed to be caught between wanting to slap the tie off of her cousin and hide under the table from him.
The servants got headaches simply trying to make sense of it.
"Seeing that Sybil is very much alive, hurry off to your duties please. We are far too pressed for time as it is. I expect everything to be impeccable for Mister Turner's arrival." Glancing at the injured servant, he turned to Mey Rin, "As Sybil is unable to serve tonight, you shall be taking her place." The ex-assassin nodded nervously.
With that they all scurried out of the room, Sebastian's eyes following them.
Checking his pocket watch for a brief moment, he tucked it back into his coat. Red eyes trailed lazily to her knee, "I suppose we'll have to fix that."
It appeared their new maid was more fragile than he'd initially thought. Sebastian's eyes continued their journey up the rest of her body until they finally came to rest on her face. He wasn't surprised at how easily she'd been injured, merely how long it had taken the servants to do so.
Sybil squirmed uncomfortably under the reptilian stare. Why had they left her alone with him?! Wasn't this a breach of societal rules or what not?
"No, no. I'm fine, I'll have Bard help me later. I'd rather you keep your hands off me." Lest he decide to just rip the whole damn thing off.
Sebastian smiled and tilted his head, "Ah, it appears you've misunderstood me again. Once the guest is gone we'll make sure to relocate your knee. Simply stay put, for now."
"You're joking."
"I do believe the fool's position is yours, Miss Vane. I suggest a nap to make the time pass quicker." Before she could reply, he gave her a little bow out of pretense and she was on her own again.
Unable to express the complete and utter vexation boiling in her insides, Sybil hurled her pillow against the wall with a loud 'thwack.'
"Arsch mit ohren."
. . .
Bony hands the size of a half-penny warmed themselves on the hot kettle. He could hear the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the sitting room upstairs.
Knotweed threw his wrinkly little head back with a huff that ruffled the brown fur that covered his body. The brownie was by no means a charming creature. It was no secret that their invisibility ensured their safety.
A seen brownie was a homeless brownie.
And a homeless brownie was a dead brownie.
Several days had passed since the maid had packed up and left.
Of course, the only reason he'd thought about the runt was the absence of his nightly saucer of cream by the stove. Beady eyes stared at the empty dish while listening to the sleeping humans. Things had been rather uneventful despite the sudden retirement, though knowing the runt, she'd chosen that night on purpose to jump ship. The human offspring's aunt had arrived the very morning after Sybil had vanished.
There would be someone to take care of the whelps while they prepared everything to move to the countryside. After several days, they were finally ready to make the trip, and tomorrow the house would be inhabited by a new gaggle of humans.
A glance at the little tin on the floor reminded the creature of the times he'd found a wee cake or sweet porridge waiting on the hearth for him—warm and tasty. His brow wrinkled in thought.
Such a strange thing she was.
He'd never seen one of her kind before, and though he'd been unable to tell what, he'd known it wasn't something to keep around. The sentiment had only worsened when a week of his torment had earned him the tensely uttered knowledge he'd rather have gone without. The look in her eye had convinced him to keep her, and the girl hadn't left his sight as long as she'd been under his roof. Or that was what he'd told himself.
But whether it had been fear or pity...Knotweed couldn't say.
Despite it all, the brownie had found her to be rather useful. Quiet, serious, and oddly respectful—the maid slowly eased herself into his environment. She did poke fun at him here and there, but nothing that would sour their tentative living arrangements. And he dared to say that he may have grown the slightest bit comfortable around h—
Creak.
Tilting his head to the groaning floorboards above him, the brownie's eyes gleamed. The footsteps continued until he heard them tip-toeing down the stairs to the kitchen. Odd, judging by the awful snoring in the attic, the new skivvy was still asleep. Who would come down to the servants' area other than she?
The moment the steps reached the kitchen entrance, the brownie became invisible.
Hughey held his breath, growing still every minute or so to check that no one else in the house had stirred. Placing his satchel on the table, the boy began to fill the bag with the things he had in his pockets. Knotweed watched as the lad placed everything from the family silver to his mother's pearls in the bag. He even brought some of his finest garments.
Just what was the bairn up to?
Shrugging on a coat, he threw his school bag over his shoulder with a look of determination.
"I have to try."
The small creature's face paled underneath his fur. No. He couldn't be.
Knotweed startled into action as the wee lad stuffed an apple and a large slice of bread in his pocket. Just as Hughey left the kitchen the brownie managed to fling himself onto the satchel, dangling by his grip on the leather. What else could he do? Speaking to humans was a rule not broken by his kind, and there was no way to alert the adults. Leaving to knock something over would take too long.
To his credit, the being did his utmost to yank the satchel off the boy. When Hughey crossed the threshold of the servant's entrance—with no other choice lest he wished to die—the brownie let go and tumbled down onto the floor.
Gazing after the human, Knotweed hissed.
"Foolish boy."
. . .
Finny closed the door behind him, a small bundle in his arms.
He'd wanted to bring Sybil something to eat as the others were occupied with attending to the guest. However, when he'd knocked and no one had answered the gardener had found the maid fast asleep in her bed.
Just as he'd turned to leave, the blond had remembered the favour she'd asked of him earlier that day.
[Flashback]
"I like all sorts of animals! Big ones! Small ones!" Finny cried with a gleeful wave of his hands.
Sybil smiled at him and a small huff of endearment escaped her lips. He felt much better, and once the mud dried, she'd told him he could simply rub it off and the nettle's hairs would come right out. His strength had its limits, much like Mey Rin's eyesight. He could take down an oak with a single punch, but a couple of leaves could give him as horrid a rash as the next person.
"Finny, can you keep a secret?" Her eyes found his.
"Of course!" A secret? Did Sybil like him enough to share a secret with him? The thought filled him with a sense of relief.
"You see, I found a rabbit kit several days ago…"
[End of flashback]
Finnian completely understood her desire to keep the little rabbit a secret from Mister Sebastian. He'd tried to keep a squirrel or two when he'd first started working for the young master, but of course, that hadn't gone over so well with the butler.
So when she'd asked him to set it free now that it was old enough to be on its own, he'd agreed. Though Sybil had wanted to do it herself, she had to serve the young master during dinner, and after her knee injury, she wasn't able to walk at all.
Finny cringed. Hopefully, his mistake hadn't ruined his new friendship. Though Sybil hadn't been too angry about it, he felt just awful. Green eyes glanced down at the warmth radiating through the little bundle in his arms as he walked down the hall. Careful not to be seen by the others, he made his way to the garden.
He removed the cloth from the animal's head, its ears popping up. It really was the cutest little bunny. He could see why the maid had been so worried about it. Finny beamed and gently stroked its black fur.
"Alright, Mr Bunny! Sybil sends her goodbyes and hopes you'll live a happy life with your rabbit friends!" The gardener set it down on its feet, and then waved cheerfully, "Bye-bye!"
It waited for a moment, as though unsure if the bigger being would chase it, but then turned and hopped away between the trees.
Finny headed back inside the manor. He could tell Sybil he'd kept his promise when he saw her at breakfast tomorrow.
Near the trunk of an old oak, the rabbit stood on its hind legs, twitching its nose.
Goodbye, Finny.
It then disappeared in the undergrowth.
A/N: Arsch mit ohren = lit. Butt with ears (German)
Reviews~
WavyWavy: I swear this pun made me snort in the most hideous way during my lunchbreak the first time I read it. Bless ye. Indeed, Sebastian is that guy at work who won't let anyone else do things, but then complains about no one helping. Charming, ain't he? Oh my gosh, thank you for noticing! If you have any real interest in ecosystems or just basic food-chain knowledge, you're aware that prey animals very much want to LIVE. That survival instinct in them is strong as hell (pardon the pun) and they will attack you if they feel in danger. Fear keeps you alive, and with a demon as your supervisor, you'd best stay on your toes! Thank you for taking the time to review, Wavy! Always an immense pleasure! I hope this chapter was to your liking:D
Cruelzy: And Sybil almost died doing it! Glad to know my attempts at comedy work:D Also, thank you! I try my best to write Sebastian as accurately as possible with what Yana was given us in the manga. Hope this chapter was up to par!
Stellar Spirit: Thank you! I have a lot of fun analyzing such a dynamic and writing it3
Emmy3612: A challenge to be sure! I do think Sebastian has emotions few and sparse as they are. Animals are capable of emotions, but again, not exactly as we comprehend them. We're also a very social species, so that also has much influence in our need for feelings. I mean, if a hawk felt bad for the mouse it would be a disadvantage in regards to its hunting capability, no? Humans are a prime example of this...and probably the only one. Thank you so much for the feedback, hope you had fun reading this chapter as well;)
Majopi: Thank you! I'm doing okay so far, hopefully all you are too. She does inspire that mental image, doesn't she? XD Unfortunately, Sebastian doesn't bat an eye at pitiful things.
FlavourofLife: I swear this made me squeal and still makes me squeal whenever I read it. You are TOO KIND. Personally, I find that Sebastian is as fun as he is because of that sinister energy we get from him. That chapter where he and Ciel formed the contract? Absolutely chilling. I loved it! So, I do try to keep true to his character as a whole because I believe that Sebastian is BEST Sebastian. Also, I'm so humbled by your liking of Sybil! Greatest praise a writer can get. I hope to keep meeting your expectations with each chapter and slowly we'll get to wick of our girl, eh?;} Again, thank you so much for the feedback! It keeps me going!
Millianna07: *cries* Thank you for being so understanding! I really do think you're all just some of the best peeps that I could possibly have taking an interest in my wee story. Please stay safe and healthy! 3 I hope this chapter was up to par!
Razzeeberry: Thank you! I hope you had a good time reading it:3
anahita with flowers: Hmmm, Sybil's scent, huh? I do think she smells a particular way, probably that scent in the air after heavy rainfall? And probably whatever soap she bathes with...and maybe something else?;)
Aletta Wolff: I'm doing okay and I really hope you are too! Sorry for the litte let down, lol, but hopefully this chapter made up for it! Also, that is exactly why I created the blog! So I can keep you guys posted without giving you a false hope about a new chapter :)
alienhands: askdalksdhjkhsljqhflwfh I can't describe how happy and embarrassed I get when people like Sybil! Honestly, that's exactly trying to do. Feed y'all some info about her in small doses and make it as fun as can be! Hopefully this chapter was to your taste! thank you!3
Aservis Roturier: Honestly, AR, I don't know how I managed to do it either. I gave it my all, and somehow (with Sebastian's permission) it came out the way I'd hoped! I'm sorry this chapter took so long, but it's here (T v T) I hope you're safe and healthy since the last time we spoke! I'm always on the lookout for any signal you're okay!
And to all of you who sent such sweet messages wishing me well, I can't thank you enough. They kept me going through some real rough patches, let me tell you.
Until next time!