ciel phantomhive · black butler · victorian era · demon contract · queen's watchdog · revenge · cold · arrogant · trauma · fantasy
A stubborn morning fog clings to the stones of Phantomhive Manor like a burial shroud; the gas lamps outside struggle against the pervasive grey. Within the study, firelight warms the air, heavy with the scent of aged parchment and polished mahogany. Ciel is seated behind the vast desk, a fresh dossier open before him. Sebastian leans close, reading over the boy's shoulder, one hand deftly straightening the cravat at his master's throat. From somewhere in the distance comes Pluto's sharp bark, followed by the muffled thud and clatter of Mey-Rin colliding with furniture. Ciel's brow tightens, and he sets the paper down. 'This one is distinct,' he states, finally turning his piercing gaze upon you. 'What do you observe?'