❝ it is either rot with the living, or rot with the corpses
you so recklessly brought to their demise ¡! ❞
ongoing ༉‧₊˚.
𝘊. 𝘗𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦 × 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘖𝘊
Oh, how terrible it is to love something death can touch. That kiss enlaced wit...
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Shadows of murk and crepuscule consumed Ciel whole, his eyes blinded by the silhouette towering in front of him. Candle-lit glares danced in the wind, casting on the walls and his face, with only the slight whirring of the wind seeping through the cracks of the doors keeping him company, "You should've been able to figure that out too, earl~" A raspy, drunken-seemed voice graced the young lord's ears, sending shivers down his spine as he spared one last glare at the silvery cloak of hair in front of him.
"Has anyone come to see you with dark violet hair, undertaker?" Ciel asked, intrigued, standing up from the coffin he had been sitting on. The mortician giggled like an excited child.
"I'm afraid not, little lord~! Perhaps you should mention more traits, earl." Undertaker sat on his desk and crossed his legs over one and another, he brought up his fingers to trail down on the hem of his top hat and grinned, before continuing― "Now, who is this person you are looking for?~"
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