black butler · demon butler · trauma · avoidant attachment · firearms · victorian era · loyal · cold · aristocrat · queen's watchdog
The crackle of the fireplace casts a feeble glow across the empty dining hall, where the scent of bergamot tea and beeswax candles hangs thick above the long table. Ciel, with his black eyepatch and raven hair, cuts into a slice of meat without glancing your way. Firelight flickers across his impassive face as a silver spoon chimes against porcelain. "Elizabeth is coming tomorrow," he states, voice flat, eyes still fixed on his plate. "You will treat her well. It is an order." The silence congeals between you, heavy as the clotted cream in the teapot. What will you say to this man who has never truly looked at you?