Greetings people! Sorry again for my disappearance; my personal problems got worse, and it all sort of felt like it collapsed in on itself.
But yes. Hello. Here's another vignette, featuring Ciel. Its not particularly interesting, nor long, but oh well. Tabby Cat has also been updated/is being updated at this time.
This takes place after Madam Red's death, but before her funeral in chapter 24 of Tabby Cat.
His footsteps were slow and assured, each step carefully measured with intimidation. This was, after all, the way any individual of society was supposed to walk; no matter your surroundings, no matter the going-ons of one's life, no matter any thoughts one might have; you were to walk with purposeful strides. You were to walk with confidence; with pride.
Therefore, no one would be any the wiser to the young Earl Phantomhive's trepidation as his feet carried him to his destination.
Ciel had only been within the Phantomhive Cemetery once— the day he had made the contract with the demon. Not out of fear, respect, or anything of the sort; he hadn't entered the cemetery merely because he had never found any need.
That brought the boy's thoughts to his venture today.
He had been pondering over the news of an Evangeline Phantomhive for a little over two months; which meant, overall, he gave it a passing thought on occasion. Madam Red's death had had him considering the recently deceased woman's burial placement, and had nearly chosen to place her in the Phantomhive plot. Eventually however, he decided the ancestral Phantomhive land was solely meant for those who carried the Phantomhive name.
And despite how much Aunt An might have wished it, out of her two names, Phantomhive was not one of them.
The small thought had occurred to him —in passing, as he signed the agreement for Madam Red's burial plot— that Evangeline Phantomhive must have been buried within its premises, for she bore the Phantomhive name, if only for the few months she was alive.
There was a pregnant pause filling his thoughts, as he had never considered it before. That a sibling who he had no recollection of was buried a hundred yards away from his current position.
Curiosity eventually won out within the boy, which was how he found himself crossing the threshold of the cemetery archway.
Four white crosses marked his destination. He knew two to be his parents, where their charred corpses were likely nothing more than skeletal remains. A third he recognized as his own grave— he had not ordered its removal, due to reasoning that the Ciel Phantomhive he once was died in that one month absence. He had died, submerged in Hell, only to be reborn into a new Hell.
Truly, he mused, symbolism Edgar Allen Poe would be proud of.
The fourth cross, sitting silently and inconspicuously, had not been noticed the first time he had been in the cemetery gates. It was singularly unremarkable; though the same could have been said against the other three crosses, had he not been aware of their meaning. He knew what the names Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive meant; he knew the lives they had led, he knew the pain they had felt. He understood their worth, for it was their graves that made his ears ring with silence. But a grave, marked with an unknown name, was extraordinarily commonplace. Their name did not stir feelings of grief; there was no remembrance of the life they had led, no assumptions to the pain they felt. There was no experience, no memory to attach to the name.
A grave meant little to one when the name meant little.
The soft crunching of grass came to a halt when Ciel did, staring at the name with little interest. As suspected, the name Evangeline Phantomhive was carved into the marble embedded in the ground, accompanied by smaller dates of October 28, 1877 — January 21, 1878.
Absently, he noted Tabby had arrived to this time on January 21, 1888, and wondered for a moment if there was a reason, before dismissing it. If there was a purpose for her date of arrival, it meant little now. He spared little time for the past, and already, he was sparing more than he intended, peering down at a grave that would have encased a small infant once. He doubted even the child's bones were left by that time.
His singular azure eye swept over the other three slabs of marble, a small pang of remorse budding in his heart. He allowed himself to feel the small emotion; the mere sorrow of missing what once was, and perhaps, might have been, had Evangeline Phantomhive lived past infancy.
The moment lasted less than a minute, and once more with purposeful, assured steps, walked back towards his manor home. The calm, measured strides betrayed none of his thoughts; perhaps one expected his shoulders to shake with grief. Or for slow, unsteady steps that echoed painful memories. One might have thought he was hiding his sorrow, behind the mask that made him an Earl, the only sign, a deep saddened emotion within his lone visible eye.
But there was none of this; his thoughts were calm and placid, merely musing over something that had peaked his interest on Evangeline's grave.
His sister had been born October 28th; the current date was October 13th.
Perhaps the green haired —turquoise! the small voice that sounded suspiciously like Tabby corrected in his head— girl taking residence in his home had a birthday coming up.
Shoot me a prompt or something, you guys~ I have a few ideas from a couple people, but I'd like more to build from. Love you all, and thank you so much for the support :wuzzle: