[Closed] They Said That Hell's Not Hot

[earl_ciel]

WHO: Ciel Phantomhive (earl_ciel), Sebastian (blackestate), and Shira (cut_em_open)
WHAT: Butler is doing some cleaning.
WHERE: Somewhere seedy where twelve year-olds shouldn't be.
WHEN: Day 127, after Shira's post.

Comments

[blackestate]

Ah, what a pity. It seemed he had been careless again. Staring dispassionately at the knife now stabbed (albeit lightly) into his thigh, Sebastian watched the black cloth darken with blood and noted, with more than faint annoyance, that his spares were still with the dryer. He'd have to make an extra trip later, to retrieve them. The boots did not worry him so much, as they were easily replaceable and he hadn't planned on reusing them after this anyhow. The uniform, now--Rivelatan fashion was not English, after all.

"Butler, Mr. Shira," he said flatly. "You did say you'd remember, sir."

Almost gently he took the hand wrapped around the knife, pulling the hand away and the blade out with it.

"There are 27 bones in the hand, Mr. Shira. Judging from the extent of Miss Pevensie's grief, I'd say she shed more than 27 tears upon finding his Highness's corpse."

Turning the hand lightly over, he seemed to examine it, tracing with one finger the creases--shadows of veins.

"You seem most informed in such subjects, Mr. Shira. Then, I'm sure it is not beyond you that the best way to ensure one never lays finger on a young lady is to rid one of the fingers in question. Alas, I am but a simple butler, and not so prescient as to bring with me a blade for accomplishing the task. Forgive my carelessness--but I shall do the best with what I have."

He took hold of the knuckle of Shira's index finger, nails biting sharply into the skin as he grasped the entire bone and pulled--yanking the entire finger out, muscles and tendons snapping as he did so. The finger itself, of course, remained whole--it was just no longer attached to the rest of the body. That one finger done, he worked through the rest with similar precision. Grip, twist, pull. Grip, twist, pull. Grip, twist, pull. Grip, twist--

--he felt his mood improving sharply. In case Mr. Shira's wasn't, however, he removed his heel from Shira's face and collided it hard with the man's abdomen, pinning the man (by a different method) to the wall, body between the legs to ensure no kicks would create any damage.