Ciel | 01
Who: Ciel Phantomhive, others welcome
Where: Espoir
Style: Third
Status: Open
He was dreaming, of course. But not an ordinary dream, oh no. For one thing, Ciel hardly ever remembered what he dreamed, only bits and snatches of them, like calm gray surroundings as gloomy as London was wont to be, faces he recognized--his mother and father featured often enough--and sometimes voices, whispers that he couldn't remember. The only exceptions were his dreams of that cage; those were only too vivid.
It was a vivid village that he stood in, an entirely real place of little stone and brick huts, primitive-looking even for the most backwoods villages of Britain. He very well might have thought himself awake, if it weren't for the castle floating in the sky above him.
Ciel scowled up at it as though it had somehow personally offended him. What an unpleasantly unexpected sight, so out of place as to be tacky. No such whimsical creation had a place in any dream of his. It was, he supposed, possible that he had been spending too much time thinking about the latest toy line the Funtom Company was manufacturing, which was now reflecting on his subconscious. If this was his subconscious, if he truly was dreaming. The way the very dirt of the village path scuffed under his shoe seemed so perfectly true to life...
"Ridiculous," Ciel muttered to himself. There was no such thing as any village with a castle floating above it. But there was, he realized, one way to determine for himself whether he was awake or not.
"Sebastian," he called aloud.
Where: Espoir
Style: Third
Status: Open
He was dreaming, of course. But not an ordinary dream, oh no. For one thing, Ciel hardly ever remembered what he dreamed, only bits and snatches of them, like calm gray surroundings as gloomy as London was wont to be, faces he recognized--his mother and father featured often enough--and sometimes voices, whispers that he couldn't remember. The only exceptions were his dreams of that cage; those were only too vivid.
It was a vivid village that he stood in, an entirely real place of little stone and brick huts, primitive-looking even for the most backwoods villages of Britain. He very well might have thought himself awake, if it weren't for the castle floating in the sky above him.
Ciel scowled up at it as though it had somehow personally offended him. What an unpleasantly unexpected sight, so out of place as to be tacky. No such whimsical creation had a place in any dream of his. It was, he supposed, possible that he had been spending too much time thinking about the latest toy line the Funtom Company was manufacturing, which was now reflecting on his subconscious. If this was his subconscious, if he truly was dreaming. The way the very dirt of the village path scuffed under his shoe seemed so perfectly true to life...
"Ridiculous," Ciel muttered to himself. There was no such thing as any village with a castle floating above it. But there was, he realized, one way to determine for himself whether he was awake or not.
"Sebastian," he called aloud.