[ It seems that Vatheon has been allowed to witness one of the Undertaker's many vices that he's developed over the years since littleCiel Phantomhive was born: smoking. He holds a long black
cigarette holder in his his bony, spidery hands as he puffs away. The smoke obstructs his view, but those bright green eyes are unmistakable. ]
My, my, my~
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He smiled at Sebastian. His hand still gripping his Scythe. And he whispered in his hoarse, Death laced voice: ]
Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.
[ The Undertaker's free hand snuck under his robes and tightened the cilice around his leg, listening to the barbs sink into his flesh, listening to the blood drip down his leg. He smiled. ]
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My my.. [He stood, and pulled on the hair, yanking him down to lay on the ground. Face pressed to the ground with his (very hidden by his butler suit pants) his foot.] Don't take away such pleasures.
Now.. [Moving his shoe from the Undertaker's head he pulled the length of his hair to reveal the fading appearance of those pants to the butler's outfit.] Since your hands need something to do, finish undressing from that robe. [Right in sight of Sebastian's shoes and even further up his butler's outfit faded into his more appropriate, and ever sparkling one.]
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Utque velis, daemon.
[ As you wish, demon ]
[ The Undertaker's spidery, bony hands slowly worked his black robe off, revealing his viciously bony and scarred back. His shoulder blade shifted under the fabric that was his pale skin...
Also, stop stealing the Undertaker's boots, Sebastian. God. ]
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