London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady.
Ciel found the resident witch in the kitchen, standing by the stove. A large copper pot sat on the stove, fire under it heating whatever spell she was cooking up. Her spell book was propped up where cook books rest, turned to a page with odd pictures and old words. Though she stood at the counter, she was leaned over it, elbows on the counter and head in her hands.
London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.
"You look terrible," Ciel said, catching her attention. As she lifted her head and looked at him, he could see her pale and tired face. Ceceilia stared back, taking in his disheveled hair, simple white shirt and vest. Clearly he had not been quite feeling up to normal dress either. She gave a tired yet playful smile.
"You must be looking in a mirror, then," she said. Ceil jerked his chin towards the copper pot.
"What is that?" he asked, shuffling over to the island, climbing onto a stool. She stood up smiling, righting herself a bit. He watched her rub her hands on her half apron, her chatelain jingling at the jostling.
"Medicine," she said. "This should help us feel a little better."
"What's in it?" Ciel asked, scrunching his nose, displeased with his last brush with magic. Ceceilia just chuckled.
"What do you smell?" she challenged. Ciel rolled his eyes. "Ah-ah," she said, "you wanted to learn. Close your eyes and tell me what you smell." The young boy sighed deeply in irritation but did as instructed. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He tried to focus, separate out the smells. Spice, a heat, was the first thing he noticed. Something sweet, like licorice. Was that fruit?
"It smells weird," he said, opening his eyes. It was her turn to sigh. "What is the spice?"
"Ginger," she said, raising a jar with roots in it, the knobs pointing in all different directions. She placed the jar in a large bag that reminded him of a doctor's bag. "It's going to help with the taste. It should also help burn out any lingering after affects."
"I thought that mess of a spell was supposed to get rid of everything!" Ciel shouted in frustration. She rose her brows at him, waiting for him to settled down. His shout lead into a nasty cough and she turned back to her work. She turned off the fire, pleased with the clouds of steam that had been rising. She pulled out two copper cups from the cupboard before ladling her concoction into them. When Ciel finally settled down, his cough subsiding, she placed a mug before him.
"You saw the physical embodiment of the curse, yes?" An image of something black and writhing in water flashed in his mind and he wished he could forget. "And you saw the blackness in the water."
"What about it?" he asked. He stared down into the liquid in the cup. It didn't quite move like a drink, thicker and slower. He shifted the cup, watching it slide around like a syrup. All he could remember was the fermented hawthorn. He wasn't sure what was worse, the way food had begun to taste, or that damned hawthorn. He subtly shoved it away.
"That blackness comes from the curse, secreted like a poison," she said. She put a hand over the cup and firmly pushed it back to him. "It's why everything tastes like death." His eye regarded her with caution for a moment, weighing his options. She hadn't quite lead him astray yet, so he slowly reached out. Ciel stared into the syrupy medicine and slowly lifted it to his lips. He watched over the rip of the cup as Ceceilia did the same, looking quite causal about the drink. Ciel closed his eyes, held his breath, and took a sip.
Warm and sweet.
As he swallowed, he blinked in surprise.
"That actually doesn't taste awful," he admitted. Ceceilia looked quite pleased with her.
"I can actually cook," she said sarcastically. They sat in the kitchen, sipping their medicine. Ciel let the thick, warm syrup coat his tongue and throat. The ginger stung a bit, though it wasn't unpleasant. There was a fruity acidity mixed with licorice. It was an odd mix, but it didn't turn to that bitter, awful decay on his tongue.
That made him think of something.
Cecilia had turned away and continued to pack up her things, sealing jars once more.
"Does it actually taste like that?" he asked quietly, making her pause. She looked at him over her shoulder, brows raised. He swallowed nervously, unsure if he wanted the answer. "You said it tastes like death. Does it really?" Her lips pressed into a thin line, humor slipping from her face, posture.
"Yes," she said, turning back to her ingredients. Ciel wasn't really quite sure what to do with the information. He hadn't even thought about death as a flavor.
"How do you know?" he pressed, curiosity growing. "Have you actually tasted death?"
Ciel jumped in his seat as she waived her hand sharply over the sink, fingers flicking in a direction. Dishes flew through the air onto their shelves, into their cupboards. He blinked at the small display of power. She was always so relaxed, it was difficult to remember how...dangerous she could be.
"Do you remember how we met?" she asked, her bag snapping closed.
"How could I forget?" he asked. "One moment you were a corpse, and the next you were throwing a fit." She took a long sip of her medicine, letting him think it over. "You had this same issue when you came back? You never mentioned it."
"It's more of an aftertaste," she explained, turning and leaning against the counter. "Though with the medicines from home, it faded quicker. It fades faster every time I come back."
"You've come back before?" he asked incredulously. She hummed and nodded as she sipped.
"It's not something I make a habit of," she said, "but yes. And before you get any funny ideas," she said, twirling a finger at him, "no, I do not raise the dead in their bodies."
"Do not?" he asked, noticing the choice of words. "Not "cannot." Does that mean you are capable of-"
"They don't come back," she said. Ciel sat on the edge of his seat, listening. Finally, something interesting. "Their bodies awaken, they move. But they are not the people they were before death. They become something dark, unnatural."
"Did you?" Ciel pressed. "Have you brought someone back?" Her silence and look of warning gave him his answer. Instead of proceeding with caution, he pushed forward with more questions. "What happened? Did it work?"
"It's not an experience I want to remember," she said, downing the rest of her drink. She turned and let the water run, heating up. "There are lines in this craft you do not cross. The more you learn, the questions shift from capability to ethics. It moves from "can you?" to "should you?" Is it worth the mess you risk?"
"Was it?" Ciel asked. "Was it worth it?"
"No," she said walking towards him, hand extended. He passed her his empty cup for her to wash in the sink. "No, it wasn't. It was a lesson I learned very quickly." He didn't know what to say and they sat in the kitchen for a small while in the quiet as she scrubbed the cups.
"You two are already looking better," Sebastian said as he entered the kitchen. "Does this mean dinner will not be wasted?"
"I recommend keeping the flavors relatively simple," Cecilia advised. "I need to go into town today," she said, clearing her throat. "I am running out of some things and am in dire need of candles. Could I utilize a carriage?"
"I'd be more than happy to, however might I make a suggestion?" Sebastian asked, looking at the two. Ciel nodded, curious to hear what his demon could suggest to a witch. "The Frost Fair will be opening tomorrow," he explained. "I believe it could be a pleasurable outing for the both of you and it would give you the opportunity to collect what you need."
"Not a bad idea," Ciel said. "I would very much like to leave the house. I've been bored out of my mind for days."
"Yes, my lord," Sebastian said with a bow, "does this mean you shall be returning to work this afternoon?"
"Yes," Ciel said, sliding off the stool, surprised at his legs feeling sturdier than they had been. "I have a few correspondences I must respond to."
"Very good," Sebastian said. The young lord left the room, wanting to rid himself of work as quickly as possible.
"Sebastian?" Cecilia asked, realizing something. "What is a Frost Fair?"
Cecilia stood at the edge of the ice, fear gnawing at her stomach. Her boots were in stark contrast to the snow and the thick, blue ice. Tents were settled on top of the river. People came and went, walking up and down the shops, weaving in and out of the tents. Sebastian and Ciel had already stepped onto the ice, a few paces away. It took them a moment to realize she had lagged behind.
The two turned to her but all she could do was stare at her reflection. Cold water began to fill her lungs, chill her skin. She couldn't breathe. The memory of her lover slipping beneath the icy surface robbed her of breath. She could hear the angry shouts of the villagers, her own broken and anguished sobs.
"Miss Lechance," Sebastian's dangerously calm voice cut through the fog of nightmares, bringing her back. She blinked and stared at him. Her gloved hand tightened on her scarf, resting in front of her throat. Sebastian grinned maliciously, amused at her obvious discomfort. Of all she had seen and done in her centuries of life, this was what scared her. A little ice terrified the necromancer. "Is something troubling you?"
"No," she lied, holding her breath as she stepped onto the ice. She froze, waiting for a cracking that never came. When the ice didn't crumble beneath her feet, she began to walk. She was slow, but she followed them to the tents and shop stands.
Cecilia found her stomach aching. She wasn't hungry, no. Her abdominal wound was still healing, her core hurting at the exertion of remaining upright. Her hand from her scarf moved to her stomach out of a human habit to protect their injury. It was always during times like these where you realize just how important a piece of you is. You don't know the value of your toes until they are broken. You never realize how much you need your hands until they are gone. It's hard to imagine how one could stay upright with out abdominal strength.
Each step on the ice took its toll on her. Cecilia found herself exerting more effort than she had intended at the start of her day. There was extra effort in remaining upright, her shifting balance causing a pulling pain in her stomach.
Cecilia was startled when Sebastian appeared next to her, looking exasperated. His arm was extended to her, making her blink.
"It seems you need assistance," he said. "I assume your wound is making it difficult." Slowly, she slipped her arm under his. Hesitantly, she slowly allowed herself to lean on him a bit, taking some of the strain off of her. Cecilia was pleasantly surprised at the offer as well as how much he was willing to take. She found he was right. She could walk faster with assistance and they made their way across the ice, Ciel a step ahead of them. With Sebastian ensuring her stability, the pain lessoned and her steps quickened. She found herself a little less afraid of falling through the ice.
Sebastian found endless amusement in the witch. She was powerful, terrifying in her own right, and filled with years of experience that had carved lessons into her bones. Yet she clung to his arm, her fingers tightening in fear, her steps shaky and slow to start.
"Impressive," Sebastian said as they reached the tents, people skating behind them on the ice. "The Frost Fair certainly is an apt title for this." Cecilia hummed absentmindedly at his small talk. Their heels clicked along the ice and Cecilia let her eyes linger on the sculpture of the queen as they passed it. There was always something about the queen's likeness that unnerved her. Her eyes were always watching.
"A large gathering at the foot of the London Bridge when the Thames freezes over," Ciel said. He looked all bundled up in his cloak, his fuzzy hood pulled over his head. "From what I've been told, there hasn't been one for several decades now."
"Let's not linger here," Cecilia suggested, not thrilled at having stopped. She wanted to be here as briefly as possible. When Sebastian had explained it, the event sounded like a fantastic excuse to be out and about. Cecilia loved snow, cold air, and coming home to a warm bed and a hot drink. Sebastian, the devil he is, made sure to detail the wonders of it, the shopping and people and decorations. To her eternal frustration, he did not mention it was literally on the Thames.
The three made their way through the tents, the two adults following the young lord's lead. Slowly, she forced her grip to lessen on Sebastian's arm, though she still found she benefited from the physical support of his arm. He was surprisingly warm, for a demon. Some would say it was the flames of hell burning through their veins. Cecilia found herself grateful he had decided to attempt to appear as human as possible. It was always the little details that gave away the younger ones.
It would be odd to see a man walking around in this weather with no coat, and no foggy breath. Yet, those details are so often forgotten by those masquerading as humans.
"I've got bargains that would blow even Jack Frost away," a man said from his stall, trying to gain the attention of passerby's.
Doubt it, Cecilia thought to herself.
Ciel paused in his tracks and turned to the stall. Just past the hood, Cecilia could see a small smirk from the boy.
"Something wrong?" she asked, letting her arm slip from Sebastian. Cecilia felt his steadying touch linger a moment as though unsure she would remain upright. When she stood next to the young earl, he hardly spared her a glance, his blue eye focused on the toys offered for sale.
"Those goods are all of dubious quality," he said haughtily. "Funtom should set up a stall. Any of our goods would be better than what that man is selling." Cecilia could hardly control her own amusement at the childishness behind his tone. He lifted his cane rudely to point at a boat on a shelf. "That there for example."
"Ah, hello there, noble lad," the man greeted with a smile. "You have a good eye on you." Cecilia subtly tugged up her scarf over her mouth to hide the dire need to laugh. Ciel looked at the man with his one good eye. "That piece is one of a kind. It was manufactured by the Funtom Toy Company years ago, back when it was still only just a small toy studio."
"No," Ciel said flatly. "That is a blatant fake." Cecilia eyed the boy and glanced to the butler who had silently drew closer to his prey, feigning a similar displeasure to match his master. "The Funtom Company employed an incredibly skilled artist to design this rare piece. Only three were ever made. Since our estate burned down, even we do not have one. One most certainly wouldn't end up here."
With her scarf still covering her mouth, Cecilia regarded Ciel with curiosity. Over her last few days of recuperation, she had made an effort to start to learn the history of the family. She had learned a fire had in fact swallowed the estate, but the mystery around it threatened to be all consuming. She had set the story aside for further investigation at a later time. But it seemed the fire would play more of a role in his life than she thought.
Sebastian said something to Ciel, but Cecilia didn't catch it. In her ears, music played over his words.
London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.
She turned her head to and fro searching for the source.
"Miss Lechance?" Ciel asked, pulling her attention back to the conversation. The sales man had since gone back to his advertising and she found herself being led away by the butler. She didn't have time to be startled. "Is something wrong?" he asked, never one to beat around the bush. Cecilia took a moment to look around again, but the music was gone. With a slow inhale, she told herself it was just a trick of the mind.
"I thought I heard a song I knew," she said with a soft smile and dismissive wave of her hand. "Nothing to be concerned with." Ciel didn't quite believe her but let it rest. Before he could respond, someone new interrupted their day out.
"Is that.." the man's voice trailed off. Ciel raised his brows and the three turned to an Inspector approaching them. Than man stared down at the young earl with a look bordering on shock, as though he were staring at a ghost.
"A Scotland Yard Inspector has time to attend the fair," Ciel said. Cecilia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his snarky tone. For someone who tried to walk around with an air of maturity, his childishness seeps out through his tone. "London must be very peaceful for today at least." The inspector was understandably miffed at the comment.
"It's not," he insisted. "I'm on duty right now!"
"Oh, well then we will leave you to earn your wages in faithful service to the queen and country," Ciel dismissed before turning towards Cecilia. He spoke to the man over his shoulder. "Good day, Inspector." Cecilia and Ciel started walking with Sebastian just behind them. She had stepped away from Sebastian, hoping to manage on her own, though she quickly found herself missing the support. She eyed Ciel, wondering if she could use him as a walking stick.
"Wait-" said the man, reaching out to stop Ciel. "Come back, I have some questions I want to ask you!" Sebastian, with startling speed smacked the man's hand away. The sound started both, pausing them in their steps. As Cecilia turned towards the commotion, her stomach twinged. Ciel didn't miss the wince or the way her hand rested on her stomach.
How had that no healed by now? Her throat was merely a fresh scar, aided by magic. Why had she not yet healed her stomach?
"Pardon me," Sebastian said politely. "My master is a touch fragile at the moment-" Cecilia covered her mouth with her scarf once more, hoping she was able to conceal the snort. By Ciel's glare, she had been unsuccessful. "Er, I mean a tad sensitive. Perhaps you could try to be a trifle more gentle when you're approaching him."
The red haired inspector scowled in annoyance at the butler but once more turned to Ciel. He had opened his mouth to speak, but Cecilia's ears were once more filled with music.
London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady.
Cecilia snapped her head to the path from which they came, the music having sounded as though it echoed after them.
Build it up with iron bars, iron bars, iron bars...
Cecilia blinked at that. It was a new verse, different from what the ghost child had sung. A different voice came to her now and she looked for a ghost, looked for the little girl with sewn up lips. There were too many people, she couldn't see anyone unusual but all she could hear was the music.
"Miss Lechance," Ciel said, having seen her distant but perplexed look. Her lack of focus was starting to concern him. Cecilia blinked and turned her gaze to him and noticed the man walking away. "Will you be joining us?" Her mind drew a blank and she couldn't piece together what on earth he could be talking about. His brows furrowed in mild concern. "We are going to stop for a bite to eat. He has a few questions and I have some of my own for him." Cecilia looked after the man and saw him walking towards a tent with an Asian flair, though which country she could not be too sure, perhaps Chinese. She opened her mouth to agree but was silenced once more by the music.
Iron bars will bend and break, bend and break, bend and break...
"Miss Lechance," Ciel said a bit more firmly. Before he could question her she gave her answer.
"Would you mind terribly if I took a look around?" she asked, startling both the child and the butler. "I won't be wandering far, so you needn't worry about losing me."
Ciel was a smart boy. Cecilia was withholding something, that was easy to see. But he also had a hunch pulling more information from her would be like pulling teeth and he frankly did not have the strength for it today.
"Sebastian," he said, turning to his butler. "Accompany Miss Lechance. I shouldn't be long."
"Young master, are you sure that is wise?" Sebastian asked, not thrilled at the idea of leaving his meal in the hands of a human. By the look on Cecilia's face, even she seemed concerned for his well being.
"I assure you," she said, "I am capable of being unaccompanied."
"You look as though a breeze would push you over," Ciel said, shifting his cane in an almost taunting manner. "Besides, Sebastian can ensure you remain out of trouble. It seems to be following you, these days." Cecilia looked at him with a deadpanned look. While he was right, much of the trouble lately had been caused by him. He dismissed them with a wave. "Go, enjoy yourself at the Frost Fair."
"Fine," she said. "Before I go." Ciel watched her remove the brooch pinned to her scarf. It was simple oval with a mother of pearl center. With a pained wince, she bent over and lifted a part of Ciel's cape, making him raise his brows in curiosity. "This will keep you relatively safe," she explained.
"Relatively?" he asked, extending an arm for her to use to right herself.
"While you will have to rely on yourself for physical safety," she said, taking in a breath, "this will keep you safe from what is unseen. Wouldn't want something unwelcome to get attached, would you?" She offered a small smile, and seeing the look of disgust on his face, Cecilia knew he understood.
"Very well," he said with a flush to his nose and he turned on his heel. The two adults watched the young earl walk away, can in hand.
"He certainly has an attitude," Cecilia chuckled as Sebastian stepped closer. He extended an arm for her to take which she was grateful for.
"Indeed, he does," Sebastian admitted with a sigh. Cecilia was flattered by his candor. It wasn't every day a demon entrusted you with their frustrations. "Shall we?"
"Yes, let's," Cecilia said. The two began to walk down the path. "I appreciate your presence and his patience in allowing me to walk."
"Something has caught the attention of a very formidable witch," he said quietly to prevent someone from overhearing. "It would be foolish to let it go unchecked. What is it you are looking for?"
"I am here for candles and a few spices," she said, playing dumb.
"If you continue to be coy, I will have no choice but to drop you through the ice," Sebastian threatened with a smile and patient tone. While he very well could, Cecilia knew he wouldn't, especially not while she was still employed. The threat brought a smile to her face but a wave of anxiety through her body. The idea of being trapped in the cold water was not one she wished to dwell on.
"If you must know," she said, "there was a song."
"A song?" Sebastian asked in disbelief. "There is music all around the fair. I would not expect any of it to be of concern."
"London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down," Cecilia began to sing quietly as they walked. "London bridge is falling down, my fair lady." The two walked in silence for a few more paces as she let the information sink in. Sebastian could fill in the gaps quickly and understood it wasn't real music she was hearing.
"I see," he said quietly. "It would be best to find its source, then."
"I must admit I don't typically concern myself with these sounds," Cecilia explained. "They are quiet common in such crowded spaces. You'd be surprised how many people have something attached to them."
"What makes this song particularly special?" Sebastian prompted. She began to speak but slipped on the ice. Her breath left her as pain bloomed in her abdomen. Fortunately, she was able to remain upright with the assistance of Sebastian. Hardly anyone had noticed. "I must say, I find it rather odd you are still experiencing such pain. I would have thought your wound had healed by now, what with the medicines and spells you have been using." Cecilia caught her breath and grimace.
"That's why it hasn't," she said. "I can only do but so much at once. You are old enough to know this. Haven't you come across witches before?"
"Of course," Sebastian admitted, "though none as old and experienced as you. I suppose I expected more from you." Cecilia tried not to bristle at the comment.
"And how many of them were necromancers?" she asked, grateful Sebastian had pulled them to the side. He said nothing. "There is a reason we are so rare. Experience and strength and the wisdom of knowing your limits are vital to the craft. Within a month, I have managed to pull myself back from a brutal death, healed the wounds enough for me to go about my days without bleeding to death, summoned the dead twice, and broken a particularly nasty and dangerous curse."
"You have accomplished quite remarkable feats," he acknowledged. "And you are still a mortal," he was careful not to use the word "human," she noticed. "I suppose it is to be expected that even you would need considerable rest." Cecilia was still a little irked but managed to let it go. Pettiness was a demon's nature. It was like air to them.
"With that in mind," Sebastian said as they continued to walk. "Are you sure being out an about was the best idea? It seems less and less wise especially now that we are pursuing something otherworldly. Might I ask what about this song piques your interest?"
"This isn't the first time I have heard it," she finally admitted. "It started in a dream," she said. Sebastian eyed her, concern starting to settle in. While he was powerful, spirits of those passed were out of his realm of control. Only in rare circumstances could he have an effect on them. "Sebastian, I heard it in the halls yesterday." He stopped walking. She turned to look at him and he disliked the seriousness that had washed over her. He had been hoping for an uneventful day. "A little girl in a white dress with sewn up lips. She sings it. But another voice sings it here as well."
"Whatever it is," he said, "it is within the estate, correct?"
"Yes," she nodded. He frowned at him.
"It was my understanding you had sealed the estate the night you broke the curse," he said. Cecilia blinked. She had forgotten the spell she had cast. She had been so drained that Cecilia had not had a chance to actually pay much attention to it.
"Perhaps," she mulled over it, thinking over the many reasons. "No, it's no good to speculate for now. Once we return..." Sebastian watched her trail off, her attention pulled elsewhere.
"Do you hear it now?" he asked lowly, feeling her grip tighten as he pulled her closer, ready to move them away at the first sign of trouble. A dead witch would be no use to him or his master.
Cecilia's eyes scanned the crowd. It was closer now, the voice male but light. Music accompanied it now, not just the voice.
London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.
Her eyes landed on a man walking away from them. Bright blue coat and high top hat clashed with his red hair. He moved through the crowd that parted for him almost unknowingly. Though he could very well have resembled a ghost, he was very much solid. From him, music came as though from a music box and she could see his arm moving, winding the box.
"Are you sure it is coming from him?" Sebastian asked. "He is playing the correct song. Perhaps it has been him today, nothing more than a coincidence." Cecillia pressed her lips in a thin line. For all she knew at this point, it could be a strange deja vu. It wouldn't be the first time. But there was something about the way he moved, the way he walked, that just didn't seem quite right. She couldn't put her finger on it. He was still, she could see from a distance, but stiff didn't necessarily mean unnatural.
Before she could voice her thoughts, Sebastian turned them around.
"It seems the young master has finished his conversation," he said, having felt his master call. "We should rejoin him quickly."
"Yes," Cecilia said as though she had a choice in her condition. She looked over her shoulder and watched the music man fade into the distance, taking the eerie song with him. "Perhaps it is best."
For two people so dissimilar, Ciel and Cecilia wore very similar expression of exasperation and displeasure. Their small group stood before a tent with a familiar sign. Cecilia sighed. She wasn't sure she had the strength to deal with this man today.
Before them stood the Undertaker's tent. The inspector had brought them here in search of information. Cecilia had been blissfully left out of the loop for now. There was a case and the inspector needed information he had not been able to obtain through Ciel. While Ciel was asking if the Undertaker's assistance was necessary, Cecilia spent her time wallowing in exasperation and glared up at the sign. His tent looked very similar to his shop and she idly wondered why he had gone through the trouble.
Even Lau seemed displeased.
Cecilia rejoined the conversation just as the young inspector fell through the fake door. She was a little startled seeing as she had thought it an actual door as well.
"What a hopeless fool," Ciel said.
"One of the privileges of youth, my lord," Lau said almost wistfully. Cecilia agreed in silence. How wonderful it would be to go back to a time when everything was less complicated? "So," Lau said after a pause. "What is this place?" Cecilia snapped her head to the man and looked at him has though he had grown two heads.
"It's the Undertaker's Parlor!" Ciel snapped in irritation. "You met him during the Jack the Ripper case, remember?"
"Oh, right," Lau said, pleased with himself. He turned to Cecilia with his smile. "I believe it was also the same case that brought you to the young Earl, if I remember correctly."
"You do," was the only answer Cecilia gave.
"Any way," Ciel said, diverting the conversation. "Abberline won't last one minute in there. Sebastian, prepare to-"
The ice practically shook at the roaring laughter. The sign fell off the tent and crashed against it, making Cecilia flinch, staring at the ice in fear of cracks. The laughter grated on her already alert nerves and found herself wishing to be rid of the frozen river. Sebastian had not bothered to notice her distress, not that she wanted him to, as he was more focused on the ruckus coming from within.
The Undertaker was righting himself and catching his breath. The poor inspector stood watching him, clearly befuddled by the eccentric behavior.
"I assure you, young man," the Undertaker said to him, "you are in the wrong profession. That was hysterical. You could be a world renown comedian!"
"What did you say to him?" Ciel asked Abberline quietly.
"I have no idea," he admitted. "I was just talking to him normally. Then he began laughing like a madman." Undertaker continued to giggle quietly to himself.
"How unexpected," Ciel said with displeasure. "You aren't without talent."
Cecilia heard the heels of Sebastian's shoes clicking against the ice as he neared his young master. When Cecilia spared a look his way, her brows damn near shot through the top of her had. A dark look fell over his face, red eyes glaring at the young man as though the two had centuries of bad blood. Cecilia pressed her lips together at her best attempt to suppress a smile. A chuckle itched at her throat. The poor inspector still seemed absolutely lost and the Undertaker continued to laugh to himself.
"It seems you are a man to be reckoned with," Sebastian said with an almost threatening tone. Abberline just looked at him, stunned and still so, so confused. "Most interesting."
"But," he spoke up, "I didn't do anything!" The insistence meant nothing to the centuries old demon. Cecilia could practically envision hellfire around him, ominous Gregorian chanting, and toss in a couple little devils all dancing around Sebastian.
Cecilia was watching an almost ancient demon start a pissing contest between himself and a human over who can make an undertaker laugh.
Tears began to prick at her eyes as she tried desperately not to laugh.
Pettiness was in a demon's nature, after all.
Ciel had grown fed up with the idle chatter and slammed his hands down on the desk catching everyone's attention.
"Tell me about the ring!" he insisted, staring straight at the Undertaker. "I want to know it all. The man you pulled out of the river was the last to have it." Undertaker continued to giggle to himself.
"Perhaps it was frozen in the ice," Abberline suggested, "near where the body was found. You are a citizen of our great country, Mr. Undertaker." Cecilia had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She was never one for extreme patriotism. She had seen enough foulness excused by loyalty to one's country. But then Abberline surprised her. Rather than guilting and pushing and threatening Undertaker, he simply asked. "Please, give us your help in this matter."
Cecilia eyed him for a moment. Ciel and Sebastian seemed dismissive of him, undoubtedly put off by his genuineness. Cecilia almost found it endearing.
"As I said before," Undertaker said, "I am profoundly impressed with you, inspector. I'll tell you everything. Where is the ring you ask?"
Rather than supply a direct answer or pull it from a hiding place, Undertaker looked around the room, taking in the curious expressions, enjoying the attention. He played upon his usual dramatics. Slowly, he moved around his desk, giggling to himself, acting as though a school girl was about to spill a secret. He moved to Cecilia and extended an arm.
It took her a moment to move, unsure of the gesture. Slowly, she moved to loop her arm with his. Undertaker's free hand rested upon hers, patting it soothingly.
"Hello again, dearie," he all but cooed, bringing a red flush to her ears. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on our quest to find the missing ring?" Cecilia gave him a blank look as Ciel all but fumed under his hooded cloak.
"Do you know where it is or not?" Ciel shouted in frustration. "I don't have time for your theatrics. Just tell us where the bloody thing is!"
"Ah," Undertaker sighed wistfully as he turned himself and Cecilia to the door. "But what's the fun in that, my lord?" Before Ciel could utter a response, Undertaker had escorted Cecilia from the tent.
Cecilia hadn't realized how warm she had been in the tent until the cold air once more nipped at her nose. Her breath left her in the little clouded puffs as they walked along the rows of shops. Patrons passed them on their quests for gifts. Behind them, Cecilia heard the little group chattering, no doubt discussing aspects of the case that should have remained behind closed doors.
A cold wind rushed past them and Cecilia found herself shivering. Undertaker's arm that was looped with her drew her closer to him ever so subtly, but Cecilia could feel the warmth. A gentle flush once more reddened her ears at the thought of being wrapped up in his warmth with the smell of roses and fresh earth settling over her skin. She glanced up at him and found a soft smile. She hated his smile and how it always seemed to make her heart race a little faster. It was never the smug smile he wore with others that worker her up. No, he seemed to reserve a rather affectionate smile for her. It was small but genuine and incredibly too much for her to bare.
She looked away and cursed how warm her face grew. The Undertaker frustrated her to no end. She didn't trust him. There was something she couldn't quite place that set her on edge. And then the Undertaker himself had found a way to dig into how he unsettled her. It was almost as though he knew how she felt and decided to make it worse. He dug under her skin, clouded her mind. And yet, Cecilia couldn't stop herself from wanting more. The Undertaker touched her. He laid his hands on her and for the first time in decades, the touch brought Cecilia peace or pleasure.
It scared her how much she enjoyed it.
Cecilia hated how much she wanted to feel his touch again, to be embraced. They had but a moment of tenderness the first evening, when she woke with a soul consuming fear of being alone. The Undertaker had been there, had held her, and she wasn't alone. A storm of conflicting emotions raged inside her, clouding her.
Build it up with needles and pins, needles and pins, needles and pins.
Her rushing thoughts came to screeching halt. The music shot through her. Cecilia stopped in her tracks and looked around.
Pins and needles rust and bend, rust and bend, rust and bend.
Pins and needles rust and bend, my fair lady.
"What troubles you, my dear?" Undertaker asked, his tone more soothing than teasing and Cecilia couldn't help but breathe a little easier. She blinked and allowed him to continue to lead her. His voice was drowning out the music, a blessed reprieve. His hand rested upon her gloved hand once more, rubbing it gently.
"It's nothing," she lied.
"My, my," he said, the teasing starting to return as he slowed their pace. For a moment, they paused and Cecilia looked back to the rest of the group. She was surprised to find them straggling a tad behind and seemed to be bickering. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Undertaker said, pulling her attention to him once more. Cecilia's eyes went wide as a pale hand slowly reached up and toucher her face, resting upon her cold cheek. "I do hope you aren't falling ill," he mused. He lifted his hand away only to gently press the back of his hand against her cheek in a gesture to suggest he was checking for a temperature. "While you look lovely in my coffins, you are much more fun with a pulse."
Cecilia flushed like a young girl. It was baffling what he did to her.
"I assure you," she said, clearing her throat, "I am well enough."
"I take it that little impromptu operation has been giving you trouble," he hummed, his hand patting hers once more. "Nasty gash that was." Cecilia said nothing but found her cheek missed the warmth of his hand.
Undertaker takes her home during the commotion after helping her (she gets wet or something somehow) they all arrive home to find undertaker and cecilia in the parlor. she is by the fire, asleep in the chair in a velvet tea gown with cream lace lapels and the velvet puffs at the elbows before being replaced with the lace. she looks warm and cozy, hair in a simple braid but mostly falling out. Undertaker is reading a book. She had one in her lap. He gets up and quietly lets them know she was exhaused and had to get out of her wet clothes and assures he was a perfect gentleman and she dressed herself.
Cecilia rolling eyes at sebastian being petty with the inspector and Ceclilia reminds herself of pettiness in the nature of demons
sebastian passes off to undertaker who takes her arm and quietly reassures her.