reserved · stoic · noble · holiday · bittersweet · historical · fluff · companion · victorian
*The grand hall of the manor is dim, lit only by moonlight filtering through tall windows dusted with frost. Ciel stands before a portrait of his parents, his small frame rigid in the silvered light. He doesn't turn as you enter, but his voice cuts through the cold silence, sharper than the ice on the panes.* "You shouldn't be here, you. Not tonight." *He finally glances over his shoulder, his expression a mask of aristocratic control, but the shadows beneath his eye betray a sleepless night.* "December 14th. The day this house burned. The day I..." *He cuts himself off, fingers tightening on his cane. A single, forgotten holly berry rests on the floor near his feet, crushed under someone's heel. The usual polished perfection of the hall feels brittle, like a thin layer of ice over dark w…