Shadowy feathers brushed against small delicate fingers, reaching out to grab hold of at least one of the long graying feathers. They hadn’t ever been white, for as long as I could remember, yet I knew that they once had been such a glorious white it would have been impossible to look at them. For the moment though, these feathers were a pastel gray at the tips but towards their bases grew into a dark stormy gray that lingered somewhere between the fine line of where gray morphed into black.
“White are for the pure ones, innocent, and glorious. Gray are for the falling, descenders, abandoners,” my voice was soft as the ancient song left my lips. It floated through the air much like a haunting lullaby as my fingers continued to run along the edges of the gray feathers; my eyes following the path my fingers took.
“Black are for the fallen...broken...damned.”
I started, letting my gaze flutter upwards towards Sebastian who looked down sharply at me. His lips were tugged down in a scowl as he looked from me to our surroundings. I sighed and stood up, realizing that I’d been working at the same task of sewing a rip in someone’s costume for much longer then was necessary. It appeared I’d actually added a new decorative stitching to the side of the fabric in the gold thread I’d been using.
I flexed my hands, stretching out the cramps from my fingers due to holding onto the thin needle for so long. The movement caught my attention and I couldn’t help but to stare at the appendages as I flexed and moved them about, Undertaker’s words ringing through my mind once more. I shouldn’t have asked him those questions, I should have forced myself to forget what he said he knew and walked away.
Ignorance is bliss.
And yet I could not bring myself about to fully regret my decision last night. I’d gained knowledge about myself I would never have known otherwise. It was surprising to think that I could actually do any of those things. That if I released that particular bloodline, my capabilities would be increased to an entirely new level.
I bit my bottom lip gently as I mauled over the new possibilities the Undertaker had opened up to me with just a few answers to a few curious question. It was amazing what such small knowledge could do to one’s mind frame. Words could indeed change the direction of the entire world.
“Tessa,” Sebastian voice cut through my thoughts, sharper then before.
I shoved the thoughts into the far corner of my mind, locking it with a key. I would dwell on them later when I didn’t have to worry about prying demons.
“Forgive me, Sebastian. My thoughts are elsewhere today,” I mumbled lowly, placing the now fixed costume onto the table that doubled as a vanity for the circus crew preparing for this evenings show. “I assume you are pestering me because there is something the young master wants us to do?”
“Indeed,” he answered. “The young master plans on using the next available opening to perform a thorough investigation of the circus and its members.”
I pursed my lips in thought, “Tonight’s show would create the perfect distraction, would it not? I assume this is what you mean by next available opening.”
He smirked, “If it is what the master wishes.”
“Then so it shall be,” I mocked lowly, as I turned. “I’ll be waiting carefully for the next orders then.”
The chaos in the small tent made conversation impossible beyond that point and I separated from him to make myself at least hold the appearance of being busily at work. I had no idea as to what Ciel and Sebastian might have up their sleeves, but it would be interesting to see the new turn of events. In the mean time though the most important thing was to hold the facade we found ourselves still delicately weaving.
YOU ARE READING
Tessa Hale, once nobility is now nothing but the remainders of a lost family. Seeking a brighter future she is introduced to the life of a parlor maid in the Phantomhive household. But something is odd about the master and the butler, in fact everyo...