psychocircusal

[psychocircusal]

https://twitter.com/yume100prince

#deviliciious ;<that butler; his light>;

[psychocircusal]

       There were certain parts of the estate, even now, that Weiss knew almost nothing of -- areas he seldom had any reason to visit and as such only had a vague idea of the basic layout. Venturing into such places was always nerve-wracking. Being guided, even by the man he considered “master”, only helped so much. Yet never would he protest. He did, however, remain as close as was possible without becoming an impediment.

       It was tempting to drop to all fours and crawl. That way was safer. That way, there would be warning. Sebastian didn’t like it when he did that though. Weiss could never understand why.

       He couldn’t understand a lot of things.

       What he managed to comprehend in that moment, though, was that the elder had brought him to the "music hall” to be taught. The boy couldn’t say he’d ever disliked any of lessons given to him since coming to live at the manor. If anything he was quite fond of them; particularly those given by Sebastian.

       As such, despite the anxiety of venturing through unfamiliar territory, Weiss trailed into the room after the man. The ongoing flow of words helped. Listening to them soothed frayed nerves and guided footsteps until the albino again stood beside his master. In the meantime his answer has already been decided.

       “P...Pi...An...O...”

       He’s gotten a little better at that at least...

   STARTER || @psychocircusal

   Gloved hand gestured for the white-haired to follow him; through the lower levels of the mansion, into the entrance and towards the side. Larger rooms opposite to the one where most parties were held. The open tiles and chandelier that provided light at night, the few tables with chairs and the well-kept piano at the corner. Couple of closets and boxes that sheltered the instruments. Room was often used for practice, whether it was dancing or music, a lot of afternoons had been spent there with the young noble who never seemed to learn how to place his feet during a waltz…

   Sebastian had promised to spend some time with Weiss, teaching him how to play an instrument of his choice from the few that were inside of the boxes. A violin, a wooden guitar, there might have been an harmonica in there somewhere, the obvious piano of massive size and great quality. The butler steps further into the room and stands in the middle, hands resting behind his back as he smiled at the boy and with soft voice, began speaking;

   ❝ Here we are! We call it the ‘music hall’, though it is not exactly a hall…And very few pieces of music have actually been played here since the young master barely has the patience for that sort of thing nowadays. So, what do you wish to try first? The violin or the piano? Both of them are tedious to learn but with effort, you may end up playing some rather pleasant songs. I do prefer string instruments but there is something charming about the piano as well. ❞

   Like often, Michaelis ends up rambling but when it came to behaving as a teacher, he was always excited.

#SHIT I'M ALIVE I SWEAR I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG QAQ #deviliciious

[psychocircusal]

#musing

[psychocircusal]

So... Anyone feel like plotting or something?

#OOC #TBD

[psychocircusal]

       Not for the first time, Weiss tilts his head. He still doesn’t understand what he’s been told about “holidays”, let alone “Halloween” -- certainly not the dressing up part. For that matter...

       “...Ah...?”

       ...What are mummies?

   SPOOKY BANTER FOR @psychocircusal

   How ironic would it be to suggest a werewolf costume for Weiss? Bit of a shame the boy would not be able to see everyone dressed up but that did not mean he could not take part of the holiday. ❝ How about… ❞, Sebastian taps his bottom lip and hums, ❝ We dress up as mummies? ❞, then the bandages could cover his eyes as well.

#deviliciious

[psychocircusal]

surviving isn’t gentle it bites and it leaves bruises in places you didn’t think you could possibly get bruised (the inside of your ribs where your lungs expanded until there was nowhere to expand anymore and sometimes inside your veins where unholy things like anger and fear and sometimes want and pain mixed in your blood) purple and blue and yellow galaxies on your skin you wonder what kind of people might populate them if they are anything like you

(via unhollywccd)

#Musing

[psychocircusal]

.

#I'm alive I swear ;;>_>

[psychocircusal]

      Rude though that particular combination of words may have sounded, Weiss takes no offense to it. An observation had been made and that was all. Yet he cannot help but flinch and briefly tense at the mention of “play”. “Play” is a word with two very different meanings to the boy. Mind automatically leans to the bad one whenever he hears it uttered.

       But he understands that Sebastian is talking about the other sort of “play” -- the welcome kind that doesn’t cause nightmares.

       The albino can’t help but wonder, however, if Sebastian and Princess might want to be his friends. Such a thought cannot be articulated by him though, well beyond his ability to ask. Still... He wants to think they’re his friends at least. It causes a nice feeling that hasn’t been experienced since Mother and the other animals. The loneliness goes into hiding when the nice feeling is around.

       He doesn’t like the loneliness. By nature, he’s a social beast. To be alone for so long has been as painful as starvation. Being among friendly company again, regardless of unease or confusion, is a rare mercy and the sensation is desperately clung to -- a gasp of fresh air after years of suffocation.

       On the other hand, the emphasis on “playing” and “fun” is not something Weiss can comprehend.

       Such things are luxuries the boy can’t truly afford. As it is, he struggles to survive on a day-to-day basis. Goofing off will likely lead to a death that comes much sooner than it would otherwise, and he doesn’t want that.

       Weiss frowns. Sebastian isn’t making any sense.

psychocircusal:

-

      There’s no hiding the harsh flinch that occurs in reaction to the sound of movement. Weiss expects punishment for touching without permission – but instead Sebastian simply drags nails against his own skin to, presumably, relieve himself of an itch. Now, as before, the boy is unable to comprehend the lack of reprimand. Part of him even wants it; if only because he knows it to be right, because he feels he has done something unwanted and therefore bad.

      Yet there’s no anger. No yelling. No pain. Where they should have been, there are instead curious words.

      Head quirks at a perplexed angle.

      Things he does to keep himself busy?

      Under normal circumstances, days were passed by simply trying to survive. Hunting, scavenging, tentatively expanding the search area, hiding from people and fending off intruders of the bestial sort. Leisure time was nigh on unheard of and usually spent recovering from one issue or another. Once in a while, he would pause and think about Mother and the other animals from the Circus. He tried not to though. It always made him sad.

      Weiss has no idea why Sebastian had asked such a question… Unless it has to do with the fact that the gifted food has downgraded the need to hunt from an immediate priority. But even then, there are still the other tasks he must take care of. Princess too, now. What else might the man be thinking of?

   THE TILT OF HIS HEAD meant that the white-haired had not understood Sebastian’s question. He can make assumptions that between keeping the tents in shape so they would not crumble down, hunting the vermin that scurried around the fairgrounds and then worrying about dogs that tried to enter and claim the territory for themselves, there must not have been much else for the albino to do. A person of his age would have been fond of games and other children, of course this one did not have the luxury of being able to socialize with someone else nor had any games to occupy his time with when the circus was nothing but ruins now, nothing of interest had survived.

   ❝ I guess if you have no friends then it is a bit difficult to play by yourself… ❞, bit of a rude thing to say but it was the truth. Weiss had nobody else to keep him company and from his behaviour the butler can conclude that it would not be easy to open up to someone and befriend them unless they were an animal. It was obvious that the young man was not overly fond of humans due to his past of abuse, though children would surely be nicer than adults and perhaps, if introduced to a kid or two, they would not mind playing with him for a while. Then again, who is to say he would even want that? If he did not want a new home then maybe he was fine being alone…with the cat.

   ❝ Well — you can play with Princess now. She is a bit lazy like all cats are but she has some energy in her so, I am sure you can get her to chase you around the circus. You can always hide some food from her and have her look for it… ❞, nothing seemed too appealing there was not much one could do with the company of an animal that would rather sleep most of the day than do anything else. Maybe the demon could bring some toys for the cat and share them with the boy, then he could keep himself busy for a few minutes, exercise the feline and have a bit of fun.

#deviliciious

[psychocircusal]

       He runs for what feels like an eternity. At the very least it has been well over an hour.

       Stumbling, crashing, falling more times than he could ever hope to count, the blind boy aches all over; but nowhere more than his chest or the side of his face.

       Again he slams into a tree. The rebound knocks him to forest floor and this time he does not bother getting up. He is weak and dizzy -- has likely suffered multiple concussions by now. Any energy the albino might have retained is sapped by heaving sobs. There are splinters of glass in his heart. With each beat, they are drawn in further, breaking and multiplying, shredding the muscle until it is nothing more than a loose collection of tissue kept together only by what has already ripped it asunder.

       Weiss feels as if he is dying though he knows he’s not. Part of him wishes he was.

       Sebastian had become everything to him. He had been safe, comforting, kind, patient, and many other things -- and the boy had gotten overly-attached; had come to love the butler as he loved Mother. Now it’s all gone. It’s all gone and it will never come back.

       Because Sebastian hurt him.

       Because now he’s terrified of Sebastian.

       Because he can no longer trust Sebastian.

       And if Sebastian can’t be trusted, then no one can.

       The boy curls in on himself, clawing weakly at his chest as if that will make the anguish go away. But that only makes him remember the breakdown from when they met -- when he had scratched his head open and Sebastian tried so hard to calm him down.

       Hand stills and he chokes on a wail.

psychocircusal:

-

       Cold dread. Such rage is comparable to that of the boy’s ringmaster; perhaps even beyond. Now, as then, every primal urge begs and screams and cries to escape – to flee from this apex predator as other nearby life had done. But it is Sebastian this time. It is Sebastian, the man who had taken him in, the man he trusts so much, cares for so deeply. He hadn’t run from Sebastian before. He doesn’t plan on doing so now.

       Because Sebastian will understand.

       Because Sebastian is everything to him.

       Though his body is forcefully shoved against the ground, though lungs are being compressed and he chokes for air, Weiss whines and whimpers and pleads in the only way he can. Sebastian will listen, right? He needs Sebastian to listen. He needs to explain, somehow, that he had not done this. And Sebastian will listen, won’t he? Sebastian, his master, his family, is kind and nice, will listen and understand because he is gentle and caring and safe and-

       Suddenly the albino is knocked to the ground with a yelp. An already wounded side makes harsh contact with packed dirt. His cheek burns, stings, but he doesn’t know why. Why?

       Why?

       Ears ring painfully. Still, he hears the breaking of pottery – hears that unnatural voice and the promise of death it carries. His question has been answered.

       Pure, unadulterated terror follows.

       All-consuming, all-enveloping, it takes control. Gone is the trust, shattered into fine particles. Gone is the minuscule rationality that had remained in spite of the circumstances.

       Gone is the boy – bolting across open space and into the woods in utter panic.

   THE MOMENT IS NOT REGISTERED as something that could be perceived as betrayal in the eyes of the younger one. There is too much anger and disappointment for Sebastian to even consider what the other might have been going through — he wanted him gone from his sight, wanted him away from the poor creature that was held in his arms. Whimpering and other desperate noises do nothing to soothe the emotion, the demon merely grunts in response and makes sure no contact with the dead feline is made; not a single finger would touch the innocent cat that had suffered such a cruel fate all because of a poor excuse of a person that was more like a dog than a human.

   CRIMSON EYES watch as Weiss turns and leaves towards the woods, the frame becoming smaller with distance until the trees and brush drown everything and the albino is gone. A huff as colour slowly turns back to amber, he gazes down at the mangled animal and shakes his head, takes a look around the garden and ignored the broken vase. Legs are stretched as the demon pushes himself upwards and raises vision towards the open window of his room, leaving the outside with a jump, blood coating his jacket and vest which would need to be cleaned afterwards. Feet help him land as he stares at the two cats that rest ontop of the bed, head poked through for him to glance at the hallway as he makes his way into the bathroom to wash the kitten, get rid of the red on the fur and close its dry mouth.

   THE RAVEN-HAIRED hates seeing his beloved creatures like this; no life in them and a body so cold to match his own. It is the emptiness in their round eyes that bothers him the most, forced close so he does not have to look into them, mouth keeping sand-paper tongue inside along with small teeth. Fur had been cleaned until no trace of blood or dirt was left, corpse wrapped up in a towel and kept away from the other cats as Michaelis changed clothing and took a look outside of the window, eyes lingering on the deep forest surrounding the estate before focusing on a distant, secluded area where the animal could be buried in peace. Underneath a tree, away from the dreaded garden.

#deviliciious

[psychocircusal]

Cattell’s 16 Factor Test [ take it here! ]

Tagged by: @deviliciious​

Tagging: @papillondxagonie || @condicionibus || @ringlxader || @niiveusx

Warmth |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%

Intellect ||||||||||||||| 42%

Emotional Stability |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78%

Aggressiveness ||| 10%

Liveliness ||||||||| 22%

Dutifulness ||||||||||||||||||||| 70%

Social Assertiveness |||||| 14%

Sensitivity |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%

Paranoia |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%

Abstractness |||||| 18%

Introversion ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%

Anxiety ||||||||||||||||||||| 70%

Openmindedness |||||||||||||||||| 58%

Independence |||||||||||| 34%

Perfectionism ||||||||||||||| 46%

Tension ||||||||||||||| 46%

#Headcanon #The accuracy of this holy shit-

[psychocircusal]

      There’s no hiding the harsh flinch that occurs in reaction to the sound of movement. Weiss expects punishment for touching without permission -- but instead Sebastian simply drags nails against his own skin to, presumably, relieve himself of an itch. Now, as before, the boy is unable to comprehend the lack of reprimand. Part of him even wants it; if only because he knows it to be right, because he feels he has done something unwanted and therefore bad.

      Yet there’s no anger. No yelling. No pain. Where they should have been, there are instead curious words.

      Head quirks at a perplexed angle.

      Things he does to keep himself busy?

      Under normal circumstances, days were passed by simply trying to survive. Hunting, scavenging, tentatively expanding the search area, hiding from people and fending off intruders of the bestial sort. Leisure time was nigh on unheard of and usually spent recovering from one issue or another. Once in a while, he would pause and think about Mother and the other animals from the Circus. He tried not to though. It always made him sad.

      Weiss has no idea why Sebastian had asked such a question... Unless it has to do with the fact that the gifted food has downgraded the need to hunt from an immediate priority. But even then, there are still the other tasks he must take care of. Princess too, now. What else might the man be thinking of?

psychocircusal:

-

       Fear is the driving force behind much of the albino’s actions. Fear is what has kept him alive. Safe? Perhaps not. In a matter of life or death, however, survival was more important. Yet before fear, there is always empathy – a kind boy by nature, made afraid by nurture. To bear witness to another’s unhappiness is just shy of causing physical pain. It is worse when he believes himself the cause of it.

       So when Sebastian’s voice, when that sigh and his gait and his actions, yell to Weiss a state of upset, there is only one course of action for the younger to take.

       Bony frame trails slowly after the man. Any faster and there is thought to be a risk – of anger, of worsening, of any number of things – and for the same reason the juvenile remains on all fours, close to the ground like a mutt seeking forgiveness. It is not forgiveness he wants though. He wants only for the nice man to be happy. Not sad. Not sad over a mere whelp especially.

      The boy stops to sit on the ground beside Sebastian’s chosen seat. A soft noise of concern, and he leans ever so lightly against the elder’s leg with head tilted back to face the other. He’s well aware that he will likely get punished – that he had been in the past for initiating such contact – but that is shoved aside for the time being. Sebastian is more important.

   IT WAS FRUSTRATING not being able to take the white-haired to somewhere which was much better than the fairgrounds. It did not seem logical to him, unable to place himself on the albino’s shoes to try and understand the situation. Even if the comfort of the familiar spoke louder then bravery, it would have made sense to hear all of the things Weiss would be able to have if he were to leave the abandoned circus. Food, clothing, a bed and company; were these things that he did not want? Did not need besides the bare minimum? It just made no sense to the butler.

   AMBER EYES would lower towards the younger man, watching the approach. Lean against his leg, Sebastian makes nothing of it. Fingers scratch at his cheek as the demon moves his head to look away, wondering what else they could do to pass the time. He had never been one to linger on a subject for too long; even if it was a bit bothersome, useless it would be to waste time and energy being stubborn when it was clear that no results would come from doing so. It was better to worry about it some other time, maybe give the boy some time to think.

   ❝ What do you do to keep yourself busy, Weiss? ❞, what better way to know how time was occupied than to ask him directly. The toy would only entertain for a few minutes and unless he was like a cat and took naps during the day, there did not seem to be much to do. Games had long been lost with time, the tents were empty and there were no other children around to play with. He could not read because of his visual impairment…perhaps Michaelis should bring him a radio, let the white-haired listen to some music and news, to the voices of other people to feel less lonely.

#deviliciious #tldr: Survival is a full-time job |8

[psychocircusal]

     Body flinches quite noticeably when a light pressure wraps ‘round, yet the boy remains. It is difficult – but Mina is patient and comforting, and he feels no need to flee from her. Only when she begins to usher him along does he move. When the pair treads across the threshold into open space, smaller form presses closer to the woman whilst cowering in her hold.

       Carefully is it undertaken, however, to refrain from actively pushing against her, to not become an impediment to her gait.

       He feels like a pup again. He feels like Mother is once more curled around him, trying to keep him warm and shielded from cruel hands. But Mother is gone now, gone, gone gone...! It’s a sensation that soothes as much as it makes the boy yearn for the family he’s lost.

       Strong odour distracts. Though stomach has been filled, hunger is tantalized by the smell of seasoned meats and bread freshly-baked. For the briefest of seconds the albino is tempted to investigate the source. That impulse is quickly crushed by the stench of numerous people in the same area.

       Weiss hopes they won’t be so exposed for much longer.

       It’s easy to tell when the pair makes it to the shelter of the woman’s personal tent, and the younger releases a shuddering sigh of relief. He does not dare stray from his spot out of the likelihood of knocking into one thing or another (he does not know the layout, is unable to even hazard a guess), but he tries to relax all the same. Slowly, abused form lowers into a balled crouch -- gripping the blanket tighter as he begins to shake. Too much has happened, and he is afraid. Body and mind are exhausted. Emotions have run the gamut from utter terror to vague serenity. The Nightmare is back and he is left at the mercy of the invaders, of people, who he doubts to be so benevolent as Mina has claimed.        Mina... She reminds him too much of the creature who raised him. Can he even trust her though? In spite of her kindness, in spite of the gifts and the comfort, misgivings are present nonetheless. Weiss can’t help it.

       He wants to be able to believe in her though. He really does.

          The tension in the boy’s frame is tangible, and it is only then that she realizes that he cannot see her hand to take it. Thus, she offers a soothing hush of her voice as she turns back to approach him, curling her slender arm about his spine in a protective motion by which to lead him. ❝ C-come on…this way. ❞ She bids him, gently guiding him by her embrace toward the private tents. On the way, they pass by the kitchens, where the smells of fresh baked bread and salted meats waft through the air – but Weiss has already eaten. It’s sheer luck that the rest of the troupe will find shelter beneath that tent for the moment. She would so loathe to run into another member, and frighten the poor boy.           They reach the sleeping quarters without incident, just as a few drops of rain begin to drizzle down from the heaven’s. She shields him with that blanket, urging him into a tent which smells unmistakable of her: soft vanilla and honey, sweet water and rose petals. The air about the ivory space is pure and quiet, as peaceful as can be…and a few lone feathers of white silk lie o'er the floor, from her efforts to hike the tent earlier in the day. ❝ I s – …I s-sleep here. You’re welcome to s-s – stay as long as you w-want. ❞

#condicionibus

[psychocircusal]

#Musing

[psychocircusal]

       Cold dread. Such rage is comparable to that of the boy’s ringmaster; perhaps even beyond. Now, as then, every primal urge begs and screams and cries to escape -- to flee from this apex predator as other nearby life had done. But it is Sebastian this time. It is Sebastian, the man who had taken him in, the man he trusts so much, cares for so deeply. He hadn’t run from Sebastian before. He doesn’t plan on doing so now.

       Because Sebastian will understand.

       Because Sebastian is everything to him.

       Though his body is forcefully shoved against the ground, though lungs are being compressed and he chokes for air, Weiss whines and whimpers and pleads in the only way he can. Sebastian will listen, right? He needs Sebastian to listen. He needs to explain, somehow, that he had not done this. And Sebastian will listen, won’t he? Sebastian, his master, his family, is kind and nice, will listen and understand because he is gentle and caring and safe and-

       Suddenly the albino is knocked to the ground with a yelp. An already wounded side makes harsh contact with packed dirt. His cheek burns, stings, but he doesn’t know why. Why?

       Why?

       Ears ring painfully. Still, he hears the breaking of pottery -- hears that unnatural voice and the promise of death it carries. His question has been answered.

       Pure, unadulterated terror follows.

       All-consuming, all-enveloping, it takes control. Gone is the trust, shattered into fine particles. Gone is the minuscule rationality that had remained in spite of the circumstances.

       Gone is the boy -- bolting across open space and into the woods in utter panic.

psychocircusal:

-

       He hadn’t noticed the familiar steps. He hadn’t noticed the presence, usually so comforting, of the male who had taken him in. Be it the result of exhaustion or grief, it didn’t matter. The situation has become exponentially worse.

       Smaller form scrambles backwards the very instant that first syllable begins its escape. Before scent reaches nose, before brain processes voice, he knows that it is Sebastian who has spoken – and Weiss is made terrified of the single person he’s ever considered family. More terrified, even, than when he had been witness to the man’s ferocious torture and dismemberment of an ill-intentioned stranger.

       Instincts scream and beg to run, but he can’t. The albino’s body is frozen. Senses are overwhelmed with Sebastian’s ire, mind is reeling, and muscles won’t respond. Why? Why is this happening? Is this because of his failure? No, no, he realizes. His master thinks he is the one who killed the kitten. But why? Why? Sebastian is aware that he’d never do such a thing, isn’t he?

       …Isn’t he?

       Mouth opens yet no sound will leave it. Even if one could be made, it would not help. Weiss doesn’t know how to speak – is incapable of forming and stringing together enough words to explain what happened. Would the butler even listen if that were possible? The feral is gone, its only traces the dead feline, scratches that could be mistaken as coming from a struggle between cat and boy, blood that looks like it can belong to either.

       If Weiss could speak it would be his word against apparent evidence.

       But he doesn’t even have that.

  FOOT is brought down onto the grass with the intent to intimidate and force him to move away from the mangled corpse of the small feline. Eyes soften at the sight before they become sharper once glanced towards the white-haired. Behaviour had been strange lately but never would the butler have guessed him able to do something as brutal as this. What threat did a kitten pose as? The worst that could have happened would have been a few scratches and bites; it would have never been dangerous enough for the poor thing to deserve such a cruel and bloody death.

  A GROWL as the environment around them begins to change. Birds on the trees would fly away, flowers would wither and the grass would become dry as if the soil had been robbed of everything until there was nothing left. His pressure increases; the ability to apply weight to what was in a certain area, pushing animal and human down in attempt to subjugate. Something pressing onto their lungs, making it difficult to breathe and a switch in temperature, sometimes so cold it felt like ice was coating their bodies, sometimes uncomfortably warm that made them feel like skin would boil. His presence alone would send anybody else running but this child — this BRAT had the audacity to stay.

  BODY lowers itself and hands are stretched outwards, the back of one comes into contact with the younger man’s cheek, harsh enough to push him to the side but if not, his other is already working to shove him further away from the small feline. Once distance is put between them, Sebastian reaches for the cat and holds it closer to his chest, protecting the already dead animal from anything the white-haired would even think of doing to it any further.

  ❝ MOVE! If you come back here after what you have done then I am going to KILL you! ❞, another growl mixed with a hiss; voice distorted as a nearby vases cracks apart at the weight of his aura. Allowing him to leave the estate without injury was kind enough; more than what the other deserved. Michaelis had given him a home, had taught him how to behave more as a human, had fed and clothed him and THIS was how the child repayed him? Disgusting.

#deviliciious #...welp |8

[psychocircusal]

       Fear is the driving force behind much of the albino’s actions. Fear is what has kept him alive. Safe? Perhaps not. In a matter of life or death, however, survival was more important. Yet before fear, there is always empathy -- a kind boy by nature, made afraid by nurture. To bear witness to another’s unhappiness is just shy of causing physical pain. It is worse when he believes himself the cause of it.

       So when Sebastian’s voice, when that sigh and his gait and his actions, yell to Weiss a state of upset, there is only one course of action for the younger to take.

       Bony frame trails slowly after the man. Any faster and there is thought to be a risk -- of anger, of worsening, of any number of things -- and for the same reason the juvenile remains on all fours, close to the ground like a mutt seeking forgiveness. It is not forgiveness he wants though. He wants only for the nice man to be happy. Not sad. Not sad over a mere whelp especially.

      The boy stops to sit on the ground beside Sebastian’s chosen seat. A soft noise of concern, and he leans ever so lightly against the elder’s leg with head tilted back to face the other. He’s well aware that he will likely get punished -- that he had been in the past for initiating such contact -- but that is shoved aside for the time being. Sebastian is more important.

psychocircusal:

-

        A pause, head turning to face the man who has been so kind. Another question? It’s curious to Weiss, how much Sebastian talks to him, but he doesn’t mind. Quite frankly, it’s pleasant.

       The approach is far less expected. Dimensions of the space are well-known to the boy, and he’s aware of the fact that its lower height would be forcing the man into a less-than-comfortable position. More poignant still is how he stops at the fabric to aid in the cleaning. Weiss is made uneasy by it. Grip on toy tightens in reflex. The albino has always done such chores by himself; how is he meant to react to this? Not only that, having someone in his sleeping area with him is disquieting.

       Yet the boy does nothing but listen.

       Confusion. Weiss doesn’t understand why Sebastian is asking this, why it’s thought that the company of people would be desirable, why there is mentioned the possibility of sleeping in a bed like a person when the juvenile knows he is but a dog – a mere beast, meant to slumber upon the floor. The offer of a bed to an animal like himself makes no sense.

       A small whimper and short retreat that has him cowering low. Bewilderment aside, the albino is frightened. He doesn’t want to leave his home. He doesn’t want to be taken away, to a place where he will be helpless. He doesn’t want to reside among people, terrified and broken over and over and over again, every breath a punishment.

       Part of his mind says to flee. Two times now has this man expressed a desire to take the boy elsewhere, in just as many days. Kindness and reluctant tone are among the few things that keep Weiss from submitting to that urge.

   COPPER COLOURED EYES would squint at the young man once the toy was held tighter in his smaller hands. Did the young man think it would be taken from him? It was understandable that Weiss was defensive when it came to strangers; they only knew one another for two or three days, it was too early to trust the butler completely. But Sebastian seems to forget about the situation, often acts as if they were close, as if it was perfectly normal to approach without warning, to touch and be in his personal space without speaking about it beforehand.

   THE DEMON was used to moving freely when around others. Not only humans such as the young master and the four servants but other supernatural creatures. It had to do with his confidence ( also arrogance ), the status back in Hell which would not be forgotten so easily. But the albino did not seem to have reacted in a negative manner, merely clutched the object and listened to what the raven-haired had to say. Obviously, if previous question had not been met with positivity and little to no time had passed between then and now, this recent one would have the same effect.

   MICHAELIS does not understand why the other did not seem to want things to become better. Perhaps it was fear that forced the child to stay to what was known; stick to the fairgrounds and what felt safe. But most kids would have wanted to live in a large home, surrounded by people who could take care of them, not having to worry about their next meal or where they slept. Even adults would have agreed to come with the devil but it was clear that the other was not an ordinary person. If Weiss even saw himself as a person to begin with when behaviour, lack of communication and even the way he moved and positioned himself made him look more like an animal than a human-being.

   ❝ Alright, alright — nevermind. You do not have to go anywhere. I am not taking you away from here. I will just…visit you once in a while… ❞, if the white-haired even wanted him to return here.

   A DEEP SIGH leaves the older man as he slowly pushes himself away from the bed, crawling back to the spot used as a seat to turn his white gloves inside out, keeping the fur in place. They are tucked into the pocket at the back of his pants, palms rubbing against one another in tender motion before they rest on top of his knees. What else does he do? When he cannot share a conversation with someone? When he cannot help someone because they do not want to be helped? Sebastian seems defeated; shakes his head and takes absent-minded glances around the tent.

#On the shorter side this time ^^;; #deviliciious

[psychocircusal]

Reblog if you're not homophobic

Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad. 

[psychocircusal]

      It’s unnatural to the juvenile, having his own desires brought into consideration -- just as it is unnatural for him to be treated and spoken to so kindly, to be gifted food and water and warmth and a touch unaccompanied by pain. Body is beyond grateful though. Mind is beyond baffled.

      She calls his name.

      A brief, brief moment, and then he stands, hunched over as is normal for him. The albino moves stiffly when approaching -- wary, frightened, tense -- but at least he is moving towards her. He cannot see her hand. Ears had heard it reaching out, but he can’t tell where and he is reluctant to let go of the blanket if only because of the warmth it imparts. So, when Weiss stops, he does so uncertainly. Does he attempt to grab her hand anyway? Or perhaps a sleeve or portion of her clothing?

       Weiss doesn’t know how to ask what he should do. Now he is left standing, awkwardly, awaiting any hint that might direct his actions. Years had been spent without human company. Before that, there had been no need for such guessing. He’d known what he was supposed to do then, and how to do it. The current scenario is beyond him.

          The cringing is clearly a residual effect of whatever trauma he has suffered…but still, she continues the gentle, soothing gesture of her hand until he has ceased to tremble – until she has proven to him that no harm shall follow this moment of intimate contact. He is only ever safe in her presence; she will never allow harm to come to him, neither by her hand, nor by any other. As he draws back, clutching the blanket tight, she cannot help but to once more compare him to a frightened puppy – kicked too many times, and trained by the crate…just like her. Heart aching, she slowly draws up from the ground, dusting her skirt off and whispering gently in turn for his clarified hesitation.           ❝ It’s alright. You… – you don’t have to, if you don’t w-w – want to, but…if you do, I p – promise…you’ll be SAFE. It will just be m-me…okay? Would you like to f-follow me? ❞ As she speaks, she softly turns to the side, her gaze drifting slightly toward the sleeping quarters, where multitudes of tents both large and small had been erected. She extends her hand in gentle offering, the wind carrying her quiet, loving voice to caress the poor boy’s pallid, chilled ears.

          ❝ …Weiss? Are you c-coming? ❞

#condicionibus