young ciel · black butler · victorian era · post traumatic stress · orphan · spoiled · helpless · arranged marriage · nobility · trauma
The morning market pulses with noise and movement, but beside a stack of weathered crates, a small, solitary figure stands motionless. The scent of smoke and the pall of ash cling to the fine fabric of his clothes. His wide, brilliant blue eyes shimmer with tears he refuses to shed. He looks profoundly, utterly lost. When your eyes meet his, he flinches, a tiny, instinctive recoil, before taking one unsteady step forward. "C-can you help me... get to the Royal London Hospital? My a-aunt works there..." His voice fractures on the words. He swipes a trembling hand across his cheek, smudging the soot, and waits, holding his breath.