Manic episodes do not typically come to a sudden halt as was wrongly depicted in the previous chapter. This story is currently under revision, if there are any technical or historical inaccuracies anyone has noticed in this story, please feel free to let me know. As much as I am fascinated by the Victorian era, I'm not infallible. This story is an active document.
The Third Wave
Blaire was carried into, what she assumed to be, Sebastian's office and was dropped into a leather armchair. With a click of his fingers, the door was audibly locked with a metallic click which echoed ominously. Before she could collect her thoughts, as erratic as they were, the demon butler was looming over her with his hands resting on the armrests at either side of her, effectively caging her in like a disobedient dog. She could see his chest rapidly rising and falling beneath his pressed suit. She could feel the coolness of his breath fanning her face in uneven gusts, instilling in her a sense of trepidation that she may have indeed overstepped her bounds. She wasn't even entirely sure what had come over her, although she still didn't feel quite like her normal self.
"Look, I-" she began, attempting to assuage the palpable tension permeating the room.
"Silence." Sebastian commanded, his voice a silken threat, effectively silencing her. Blaire swallowed hard, the knot in her stomach tightening. "What did the reaper want with you? What did he say?" His voice was an icy demand and his words were laced with the authority.
"That I'm not supposed to be here." She confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "My notes are wrong or something – wasn't really listening to be honest."
Sebastian held her gaze for a moment, his ruby eyes scrutinising her every expression. Then, with a measured exhale, he released his grip from her chair, yet he maintained his close proximity, his intimidating presence preventing Blaire from making any hasty movements. She was frightened that if she did, it would somehow cause him to snap.
"You mean; weren't listening because you were sat with your legs over the edge of a balcony?" He inquired, his tone drenched in accusation. Blaire's gaze fell to her hands where they lay clasped in her lap. "And do you believe him?"
"…yeah. Or maybe I just hope." She admitted.
Sebastian scoffed, his frustration mounting. He wasn't sure if he was exasperated or enraged at her continued refusal to accept reality, but every fibre of his being was screaming at him to rip her apart. Then the image of her sitting on the balcony ledge, ready to slide off, came to mind. He wondered if that's what she wanted. And the thought that death was, indeed, what she desired, did not fill him with happiness or satisfaction. The thought of her disappearing from his life immediately cooled the rage festering in him. He knew that during times of great stress or change in a human's life could cause sudden changes to their personality – even their soul. What did not know however, was what to do about it. He took a deep breath and forced down his demonic instincts.
When Sebastian spoke next, the softness of his voice took her extremely off guard. It was as though his rage had dissolved into nothing. "As ever, Blaire, the enigma that is you leaves me without words. I have no doubt that the reapers want to take you and if they do, then it is highly likely that they will kill you to view your cinematic record. I trust you know what that is?"
She nodded. "It might not be so bad. Aren't you interested? Maybe you could have my soul when they're done." She shrugged. "Some peace sounds nice." She felt something hot and wet on her cheeks, and it took her a moment to realise that it was because she was crying. She reached up to wipe them away, but she wasn't invested enough to feel ashamed. It felt as though she were peaking into the room and observing the scene play out through someone else's gaze. She waited, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She waited for a slap. A biting comment. A cruel laugh. None came.
Sebastian only stared down at her, his expression unreadable. Her flippant remark had struck a chord in him, though he was unable to place his finger on why. She wondered if he would say anything at all. She wondered if he understood how she was feeling, and it would be an impressive feat if he did understand, in that demonic brain of his. Finally, he said something. "You are extremely unwell-"
"Put me in the madhouse then." Her monotone sounded alien to her own ears. She stood up to get away, flinching when her wrist was secured. She was most caught off-guard by how gentle his grip was. She caught his blazing red gaze and did not shy away.
"The reapers will make their move. They may even go to the extent of ending your life. However, you are under the employment of the Phantomhive household, a contract that you may not simply walk away from, through any means. You will remain under my watchful eye." Blaire frowned up at him questioningly. "As such, whenever the young master and I are required to attend to business matters outside of the manor, you will accompany us. I cannot guarantee your safety if you remain here alone." His grip tightened marginally around her wrist, a silent testament to the severity of his words. "Moreover, your duties will not include the gardens without the presence of another staff member, nor will you be responsible for any cleaning tasks above the second floor. This is not a matter of your capabilities but of your safety." His words were punctuated with a finality that left no room for argument. "Is my directive clear, Blaire?" he asked, his tone bordering on softness, the typical mockery noticeably absent. Top of Form
Blaire shrugged. "Whatever you say, sir."
Then he dropped her wrist. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"
"Okay." Without another word, she departed and began to make her way to the library. She didn't pause or startle when she heard tumultuous crashing from Sebastian's office echoing after her as she retreated down the hallway.
0
Blaire sat at the dinner table, staring intently at her food. She wished the ground would swallow her whole. Where normally, the table was abuzz with idle chatter, now only the clanging of cutlery against plates and the disconcerting sounds of chewing scraped against Blaire's ear drums. Bard, Finnie and Mey kept glancing at Blaire, as though waiting for her to say something. She kept her gaze anchored to her plate while she pushed her food around. She wanted to tear her own hair out, the desolate silence threatening to unravel the tenuous control she had over her emotions.
After several torturous minutes, finally, someone spoke up. Bard, ever the brave soul, ventured to break the ice. "'eard there was a bit of a scuffle up the second floor earlier."
Mey cleared her throat. "The usual. It was dealt with." She turned to Blaire; her eyes glassy. "You alright Blaire?"
"Yeah m'okay. Don't worry about me." She mumbled.
"We always worry 'bout ya." Said Bard, his usually gruff voice injected with a rare note of tenderness.
Finnie shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
At the return to the silence, Blaire felt her resolve crumble. Her eyes stung as tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but it was no use. A single tear escaped and etched a wet trail down her cheek.
Mey noticed and put a hand on Blaire's arm. "What's wrong, Blaire? You can tell us."
Blaire shook her head, her throat constricting around unspoken words. She felt like a ship lost in a tempest, unable to navigate the surging waves of despair.
Bard slammed his cutlery down on the table. "I swear, if Sebastian's done something-"
"N-no, he hasn't – I don't know what's wrong, I just… I'm just going for a walk." Blaire interjected hastily; her voice barely audible.
"Want company?" Mey offered tentatively.
"No, thank you." Blaire responded. She rose quickly, a desperate desire to escape the pitying gazes compelling her to seek solitude. In her haste and with her vision blurred from cursed, unfallen tears. She hardly noticed when a familiar waistcoat blocked her exit and she unceremoniously collided with its owner, making an undignified noise in the process.
"What's going on here?" Sebastian's cool voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a knife.
Blaire grit her teeth in frustration. Sebastian, it seemed, had become her own personal shadow, his demonically enhanced senses making it impossible for her to find a moment of solitude. He was becoming a living testament to her despair and she wondered if he had developed his own 'Blaire wants to be left alone sense', because he had a penchant for showing up at the most inconvenient of times.
"We were just finishing dinner." Said Mey.
"Little penguin was just goin' for a walk." Came from Bard.
Finnie frowned, tilting his head. "Penguin?" he repeated incredulously.
"She's short ain't she."
"She don't look much like a penguin." Mey turned in her seat to appraise Blaire, squinting over her glasses.
"Yeah, she does." Bard insisted.
"What's a penguin?" Asked Finnie.
"Blaire." Said Bard.
Mey-Rin gazed at Bard in shock. "How do you even know what a penguin is?"
"Seen it in a book, didn' I."
"You read?!"
"'Course I bloody do! Sebastian taught me!"
The servants bickering was a much welcome distraction. Blaire made to dart past Sebastian, who was watching the three with ill-contained impatience. As entirely expected, her escape went noticed by the him. His eyes shifted to watch her, tracking her. He made no attempt to stop her.
"Prince Soma has unleashed his wrath on the Master's beloved tea set. It is imperative that the mess is cleaned away. In the game room." His voice was calm and authoritative, however his ruby eyes glinted in annoyance. Blaire couldn't be sure if it was directed at the young prince, the mindless chatter of the other servants, or perhaps even herself.
Blaire sighed. "I'll do it-"
"Mey-Rin, could you see to it? We wouldn't want anyone to hurt themselves." His gaze briefly flickered to Blaire.
"Yes sir." Mey-Rin abruptly stood, darting past Blaire and Sebastian who remained stood in the kitchen doorway. Finnie and Bard stared at the two intently, the former with wide eyes and the latter with a sour expression.
"Blaire, come with me." Sebastian said lightly. The lack of mockery, malice or contempt in his tone made her wary, but she wordlessly followed after him none-the-less.
The opulent townhouse was shrouded in an unsettling silence as Blaire trailed tentatively behind the butler, a bubble of anxiety swelling in the confines of her chest. The light from amber torches flickered capriciously, as if performing a silent ballet for an invisible audience, casting their distorted, ghoulish shadows over the otherwise gloomy walls. Portraits of bygone eras lined the corridor, their subjects' eyes seeming to follow her every movement, their aristocratic gazes fixed on her through the veil of time. Each of their faces held an unspoken story, obscured by the dust of the ages, and their unseeing eyes seemed to scrutinize Blaire, adding to her growing discomfort.
Once they were safely distant from the curious ears of the other servants, Sebastian, abruptly halted. His crisp uniform rustled slightly as he turned. He spoke with his usual air of composed elegance. "Young master has instructed me to secure the royal warrant in the imminent showcase. It seems that a curry-based product will be required." His garnet eyes held a glint of intrigue as he continued, "Mister Jeb has enlisted Agni and his blessed hand for the competition. I'm sure you understand my reservations." He paused. "What will Agni create, exactly?"
The anxiety bubbling in her chest gave way to relief. "Uh…" Blaire trailed off as she pursed her lips, trying to recall the details of the episode. "Don't worry, you'll win." She paused, piecing together her fragmented memories. "I think he uses some sort of blue lobster? Try making a curry in a bread bun. And don't forget to add chocolate."
Sebastian's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the unusual ingredient, a spark of intrigue glinting in their depths. A fleeting smile, as ephemeral as a ghost in the moonlight, graced his usually stoic features "Indeed, a most novel suggestion. Incorporating chocolate into a curry... it could be the unexpected twist that gives us an edge. However, I must reiterate, your presence will be required alongside the master and myself at the showcase. It will take place at the-"
"Crystal palace. Yeah, I know." Blaire interjected, her eyes beginning to feel as though they were being knitted together. "If that's everything, am I free to go to bed?"
Sebastian paused momentarily before answering, a new thought seeming to cross his mind. "Actually, your assistance with the curry may prove invaluable."
Her jaw slackened at his proposition, before she swiftly corrected herself. "I don't know anything about curry. Soma will know Agni's curry better than anyone, psychic powers or no."
Sebastian's gaze narrowed as he studied her, his eyes reflecting his contemplative state. "Very well," he conceded, his voice carrying a note of reluctance. "Perhaps I should extract some use from the impertinent brat after all," he muttered, the statement more to himself than to Blaire.
With that, Sebastian pivoted on his heel, his long coattails billowing behind him like bat wings as he turned. His stride, full of purpose and determination, led him towards the heart of the house - the kitchen. Blaire was left alone in the echoing corridor, the remnants of Sebastian's resolute vow hanging in the air, as if etched into the very fabric of the townhouse. Only when Sebastian was out of view did she allow herself to relax, her shoulders visibly slumping. With no servants watching her and no Sebastian bombarding her with questions, she made her way to bed, not at all caring what came of the case.
I'm sorry for the year long wait (again). I had writers block and a big scary dissertation.
Now that a chapter in my life is done with and I'm in another transitional stage, I've been feeling incredibly nihilistic. Which on one hand has been helpful for writing for Blaire but on the other hand, nihilism and motivation aren't typically experienced together. Since I started this story in 2019 – when I was just finishing up with high school, I've never had a plan for this story. I just wrote what I wanted to read but was unable to find. But this story serves as both a constant in my life and a relic of better times, so thank you to everyone for sticking with this story. I occasionally check the statistics, and am always surprised to see that loads of you still check back on this story, even months after the last update. I hope you continue to enjoy the story (even if I'm not sure where it's going yet) and again, thank you all for your continued patience.