Into These Waters of My Soul

Ciel was walking ahead of Sebastian and behind Arthur’s back. The road narrowed into a path and went up so steeply that they almost had to climb it. The summer rains had washed it away, and the stones and pebbles heaped up, like a dry stream of an invisible river. The sun was beating down harder than it had in the previous days, so by the time they reached the top, the boy was barely breathing. Arthur was about to go further, but he was stopped by Sebastian to “take a break.” Ciel asked their guide: “You said some ladies showed you this place, who are they?” “Wonderful women. A mother and a daughter. They come from Germany, but they speak English well. I would gladly introduce you, but unfortunately, they sailed back early this morning.” “What a pity.” “They showed me a truly magnificent place. Places like that are rare to be seen, I believe, and the first impression stays with you for the rest of your life.” Athur’s eyes sparkled again. “You know, I stood there transfixed, and it felt so good and warm inside, as if I was cured from everything that burdens a modern-day man.” Ciel widened his eyes in surprise: “Really?” Arthur fervently nodded. Ciel’s straw hat fell off his head, and he awkwardly reached down to pick it up, only for his hand to softly collide with a swifter one. That other hand was like a faithful dog that hurried to return a frown bone to its master as soon as it could; it was impatient and tolerated no obstacles on its way. Sebastian put the hat back on Ciel’s head. “You are red, you need to hide in the shade for a while.” “Thank you, I’m fine.” “You’ll get sunstroke.” “Alright. As soon as we are there.” Ciel returned to his conversation with Arthur, who, just like a smaller dog, babbled in awe: “I will also say that when I saw that magical place, I thought, ‘Ciel definitely needs to see it, too!’ Here is somebody who will appreciate and understand it.” “It is good to have friends, isn’t it, Mr. Wordsmith?” The young man narrowed his eyes in a cheerful manner. “It-it is indeed. Sebastian was annoyed by his stuttering, and Ciel said joyfully: “Let’s move on, lead the way.” They walked another half of the distance they had crossed and stepped into a flavourful, damp forest, where they were greeted by a sweet scent of flowers and tiny colourful hillocks in blossom. A little lizard looked at Ciel from a mossy rock. It was basking in the streams of light that flowed through the treetops, its tiny clawed legs spread aside and its amber eye half covered with the eyelid. “Look, Sir Knight, a miniature dragon.” The man laughed. “Dragons have changed these days, right?” “Could you slay a real one?” “The one the size of a rock?” “A little bigger. The one whose neck is as long as a caravan, and a fang the size of… of Mr. Michaelis.” Me? What an honour. “I don’t think that people like me can slay dragons.” “And who can?” “I don’t know. Someone else. Someone braver… no, I don’t know.” A simple question was all it took to get Arthur confused. That peculiarity of his was what endeared him to Ciel. It made Arthur look weaker than himself, and that made him feel comfortable. Ciel chuckled into his fist. “Mr. Michaelis says it’s a matter of motivation. Then let me put it to you differently: the dragon imprisoned your princess in a tower, will you defeat it?” Arthur scratched the back of his head, like a boy, and shrugged. “I wish so. Do you believe in dragons?” Ciel lowered his lashes. “Dragons can still be found these days. In one form or another. For example, Mr. Michaelis has slayed one today.” Mr. Wordsmith turned a questioning look at the black-haired man. Sebastian smiled. “I was left no choice.” “What dragon? Was it real?” Arthur stammered in a deliberately hoarse voice. He's not being serious, right? Ciel laughed with his voice ringing. “Its name was Croquet! We won with a score of 26-22, and our weapons were mallets.” “I see… congratulations!” Truly, the game against Vincent and Gabriel was like a battle between a dwarf knight and a colossal beast for Ciel. He just needed to be shown that swords could be found, armour could be forged, and the lizard could be slayed. All he had to have was a desire. And motivation. No, no, laughed the counterpart. To be a motivation. So someone else does the dark things for you. Arthur led them deeper into the forest. Both Ciel and Arthur were now looking for the elements of a magical poetic world: a giant made of rock, a family of dwarfs in the form of mushroom caps that hid behind a fallen brunch, and an amulet of a beautiful elf that was shining down on the travellers through the tree tops, although it was just a solar disk. Arthur and Ciel revelled in their own fantasy, just like children who, after a tiring dinner with adults, were finally in their room to find it filled with toys. Someone had walked between the trees with a shaggy dog — a pair of long white hairs was hanging on a bush. Or so it was at first sight. But in fact… “Hair from a unicorn’s mane. It’s somewhere here, Mr. Wordsmith, but, alas, it won’t reveal itself to us, for we are not young maidens.” Arthur never stopped smiling. He saw the material — a lot of material — for his fairy tales, not in the forest, but in Ciel himself, whose imagination warmed both writers. Sebastian didn’t even try to play, he just wandered behind them and listened. It was his delight to absorb Ciel’s happiness and lightness, the boy now looking like a lively fawn. He stopped once to look back at his black shadow. “Mr. Michaelis, why are you so quiet? Do you see anything?” “Oh, no. I’m not playing.” The blue eyes flashed cunningly. “Then find something for me, please.” He's learnt his lesson on motivation quite well. “If you ask…” Whilst he was looking for something that his imagination could work with, Arthur discovered dragon scale, which was an old snake skin. Although it was dim and had been lying between the stones for many a day… “Bravo, Mr. Wordsmith! This is magic!” “Thank you.” Sebastian found that whole game ridiculous. How old were they? He stopped near a massive black feather to pick it up and twirl it between his fingers. Ciel was already be his side. Mischievously, he shifted from his toe to heel and back, his nervous and hot breath tickling Sebastian’s hand. “An angel?” “A harpy.” “What is that?” “Half woman, half bird. And it is better not to meet her: the winged beast has a proud nature and dagger-shaped claws, which she easily uses to get her favourite delicacies — men’s hearts and livers.” “Oh!” Ciel exhaled and licked his lower lip. “Are we in danger, Mr. Michaelis?” “Are you afraid?” “Not with you. Not with you and Mr. Wordsmith.” He swiftly moved to the Knight who had found the fairies’ house — an old tree hollow. “Have you caught one?” Ciel’s head touched that of Arthur. They got so excited with the game that they seemed serious about their hope to discover something in the hollow. Owl feathers or squirrel supplies, if nothing else. Sebastian found a footprint of a dog, most likely belonging to the same one that left the white fur. It was big, like Madam White’s Great Dane. The footprints led to a small cave in a rock. “A werewolf. And there he is fed by local ghouls. They are hiding from the sunlight in that cave over there, can you see it? Most likely in the form of bats.” “Why would they feed him?” asked Ciel, who had very quickly returned to Sebastian. And once again he could observe his blushing cheeks and shining blue eyes. “It’s symbiosis. The werewolf guards them at day, and in return, they feed him.” “Sounds eerie. I like it.” “The first man to be seen here can probably turn out to be that same werewolf.” “Arthur, did you hear it?” “I did, and it is rather… dark.” A whitish-yellow silhouette could be seen in the grass. Sebastian pointed to a deer skull: one horn was broken off, the second sticking out like a stump. Its eye sockets were adorned with plants that reached up to the sun, spreading their twisting shoots. “A spirit of the forest that turns into a giant deer come the night.” Ciel came closer and peered at where the man pointed. “But there is nothing here,” he remarked, “only the flowers.” The skull rose above the ground with laughter. The flash of the demon emerged out of nowhere. It was only a joke. Devil! Sebastian gave the boy a guilty smile. “Ah, excuse me, apparently only the terrible sinners like me can see it.” It was then they were passing by a river that, in order to smooth his previous fault, Sebastian noted the presence of a mermaid by pointing to a splash of water and the gnawed bones on a stone. The fish bones were old and well dried by the sun. He commented on that: “The mermaid ate the fish and left the bones on the stone to make herself a comb. It is believed that the remains will absorb the energy of the sun and heal the owner of the comb.” “Wow!” And in an old, wrinkled, and blackened stump, Sebastian saw a crying devil. “Poor thing must have fallen in love with the mermaid.” Ciel froze and squinted his eyes, trying hard to put the image on the stump; then he shook his head sadly, “Unrequited feelings,” and clicked his tongue. They returned to the pale path and stopped the game of imagination. Arthur remarked that all Sebastian’s fantasies were gloomy. “That’s why I didn’t show you a corpse of a fox, which was also a werewolf. A friend of the first one… It seems the poor thing was trampled by centaurs.” Arthur took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the perspiration on his brow and temples. “I was hoping to get you two in the mood for the beauty I wanted to show you,” he said. “And I still believe that it’s better to see all the good things. So I am grateful that you chose not to show the poor animal’s body to Ciel, Mr. Michaelis.” Arthur exhaled and twisted his face, as if saying such obvious things were unpleasant to him, and yet he was driven to say so by his sense of duty and guilt. “Our vision regarding the purpose of writing is truly different,” he continued. “But this game — this fun game — was meant to lift our spirits!” The brown eyes narrowed. “It has lifted mine. And yours not?” “Bones, corpses, blood, ghouls, harpies… Does this sound fun to you?” “This is about the process, Mr. Wordsmith. I say that all the things that were used in this game are only natural. Do you believe that the world is only full of ‘unicorns, fairies, flowers, and perky dwarfs?’ I’ll tell you what it’s called — sheer hypocrisy and fear of accepting the truth. I assure you, it’s not as terrible as it may seem.” “I dare say that there are two types of people. Both look at the same thing from the same window. But the first sees only dirt and despondency, and the second sees the sun, birds, and the smiles of passersby… What gives us strength to live.” Arthur was fighting not so much for his opinion as for Ciel. Sebastian looked at the boy, who chose to stay out of the dialogue and was simply walking next to them. “You forgot about the third type, Mr. Wordsmith,” remarked the black-haired man. “The one that sees the whole picture.” “All your examples were… dark!” “And all yours were too sweet. It was two against one; I was just balancing forces. Otherwise, we would have drowned in the drool of a horned horse or been crushed by a rainbow.” It seemed that Ciel could hardly keep himself from chuckling. “How long before we reach the place, Arthur?” he asked. “N-not long. I hope that you still want to see it.” “Of course!” Ciel smiled with his eyes. In the shade of the forest, they seemed dark blue, like winter violets. At the sight of those eyes, Arthur’s face softened again, and he forgot about their little argument. The wonderful place turned out to be the feathery old trees overgrown with moss and small flowers. Those flowers secreted juice that was an attraction for… butterflies. There were so many of them that it was hardly possible to see the trees. They were the living and fluttering clouds. Bright orange and white, they lived on the trees, and the air was swamping with them. “It is a picture come alive,” Ciel exhaled. He lifted his head high and reached his hands into the sky, hoping that some butterflies might mistake them for branches. “Spectacular,” agreed Sebastian. “They will stay here for a little longer before they fly further,” said Arthur. At the sight of such beauty his eyes became moist, he seemed about to cry at any moment. “Where?” asked Ciel, never taking his eye off the insects. “I don’t know.” “Well, they are here now, that’s what matters,” whispered the boy as he stepped towards a giant flock. They spent half an hour there, no less. Even when Sebastian got bored of it, Ciel was still willing to admire the phenomenon. He and Arthur made up a whole story about a butterfly spirit that consisted of many and granted the wishes of good children. “Draw them, and it will be an illustration for the story,” Ciel suggested. “Y-yes, of course, Ciel, I will do just that! What a pity that I didn’t take my paints.” “I have some.” “That’s great!” “I’ll give them to you, but you will show me the result.” “Gladly.” “But you will show it only to me. Don’t let Mr. Michaelis see it.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows with sadness whilst something inside him rejoiced. Am I out of favour? “Why?” Arthur asked in surprise. “Because I said so. Later, I will decide if he can see it or not.” Ciel loved the opportunity — even such a petty one — to demonstrate his power over his adult friend. Arthur was the only witness to this power so far. “As for your argument, I have a solution. For both of you.” The man exchanged glances. Ciel continued: “You both will write a short story about a beautiful love. I will act as an honest and impartial judge, and I will tell you whose story is better. What do you think?” Arthur blushed with embarrassment while Sebatian smirked. “And the prize?” “Is victory not enough?” “I a-agree. I think Ciel is an honest judge!” exclaimed Arthur and looked at Sebastian. “What do you say?” “I wouldn’t mind an extra prize,” the black-haired man shrugged, “but it’s alright if there is none. I’m in.” “Great,” said Phantomhive with something flashing in his eyes. “You have time until the day after tomorrow. At noon, I will come to take our works. Write as you see fit.” “C-Ciel, does it have to be about love?” asked Arthur. “Of course.” “It’s just that… this is a difficult theme. I’ve always written about… well, I will try, yes. It will be good for me.” “All that is done is this world is done for love. Love can be different.” “Oh, I see! I thought that you meant only a romantic one.” “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can do this. You are Sir Knight, after all.” Ciel patted the man on the shoulder. They headed back to the hotel. Near the river, Sebatian noticed Ciel wince. At first, he thought it was the sun, but then the boy began to stop to adjust the strap of his sandal. “Are you alright?” asked Michaelis. “Yes, it’s just… the sandals are new, and it seems like I’ve got a callus. It hurts.” “Let me see.” “There is no need, it’s nothing.” The young man was deeply embarrassed and strongly refused to be examined. They went a little further before it hurt so much that Ciel decided to take his shoes off. “Don’t even think about it,” Sebastian stopped him. “You aren’t used to walking barefoot, and there is a mountain road ahead.” “Poor Ciel. Calluses can cause truly terrible trouble!” Arthur sympathised. “I’ll carry you,” offered Sebastian. Ciel burnt like a candle and waved his hands: “No, no, don’t! It’s ridiculous!” But the man wasn’t asking him — he put him in front of the fact. The slender arms had to wrap themselves around Sebastian’s neck. Michaelis thought that he could hear the other’s heart hammer. Ciel’s warm skin smelled of soap, sweets, and sweat. “I’m heavy,” he uttered. “No, you are not.” “And still…” The demon apparently liked this idea, as he got in his way and swirled around his legs now and again. Shoo! Ciel caught the direction of Sebastian’s gaze several times, as well as his frowning expression. He whispered: “You saw someone back at the exhibition of mythical creatures. And today in the forest… and now… on the road. Is it really him?” “How do you think?” “It’s all your novel. I haven’t slept much lately; I still can’t get your words out of my head.” “What words?” “About the devil. I read your book over and over again, and I think I’m getting closer to the answer. But as I get closer to it, I start to think that I don’t… that I don’t understand anything. And that I cannot help you.” Sebastian didn’t know what to say. Ciel smiled at Arthur, who looked back at them, and continued: “Does he say anything to you?” “He is me.” “You know, sometimes the demons of the past won’t leave us in peace.” “What a young man like you can know about the demons of the past?” “Nothing, you are right. And yet… You did something that haunts you.” “I did nothing.” “The lamb?” “This is not even serious; otherwise, every child who explores the world and the creatures around him would have a personal hell of such demons.” “I’m talking about Emilia.” Sebastian suddenly needed a break; the demon almost made him trip over a stone, and his legs became weak. While they stood, Ciel spoke to the Knight: “Arthur, thank you for showing us the butterflies. I will never forget that spectacular sight, and I hope to see it my dreams.” The man’s face broke into a smile. “I’m glad you liked it, Ciel. Perhaps I should carry him?” The question was meant for Sebastian. The latter shook his head: “No.” “Are you sure? It’s a long way ahead, and the road is steep.” “No.” “We could go faster if we took turns.” Sebastian shouted in irritation: “I said no!” Arthur shook his head in confusion: “I’ve got it. There is no need to be so angry.” He’s like an annoying child. How irritating, thought the black-haired man before saying out loud: “I’m sorry. I just like to finish what I have begun.” “I u-understand.” They continued on their way. The sun decided, if not to burn down the walkers, then to thoroughly fry them and dry them, just like those fish bones on the mermaid’s stone.” “You and I are very lucky today that Mr. Michaelis has this trait of character, aren’t we, Arthur?” Ciel chuckled. “I will be carried back home, and you won’t need to have a burned on such a hot day.” “How can you be a burden?!” Sir Knight exclaimed hot-heartedly. “Thanks to you, I have had a great time today!” “So have we, Mr. Wordsmith. Am I right, Mr. Michaelis?” “Of course.” Sebastian felt Ciel’s fingers running through the hair on the back of his neck. It was an obtrusive, light, and cautious touch. Brushing again and again. Like a caressing wind. The young man seemed to be deep in thought. “So I am what you ‘have begun’?” his lips whispered and smiled. “Alright… and yet, I think we should be more diligent about your problem.” “As you say. But what is this contest about?” “Did you guess that it is not just that?” Ciel nodded. “This is how I will see your current condition. And then… I really want to know which one of you wins.” “I see. Are you rooting for anyone in particular?” But Ciel only wrinkled his nose: “Oh, careful, please!” Sebastian was sure that he didn’t do anything wrong. “Sorry. I’m trying.” “I’ll walk on my own when we come near the hotel.” “There’s nothing shameful in your position…” “Yet I will walk on my own,” Ciel insisted. And so the young man was climbing the stairs that led to the hotel on his own two feet, as if he knew that they would meet the others. “Ciel!” It was Gabrial and Miss Elizabeth. The were having their tea outdoors. Madam White’s Great Dane was lying beside them, which meant that she was somewhere nearby. The dog was yawning now and then. It took all of Ciel’s self-control not to wince from the sharp pain that pierced his heel. He was trying to walk as usual and was more than successful. “Where were you?” “Walking in the forest,” answered the twin and introduced Mr. Wordsmith. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Wordsmith,” Gabriel shook the man’s hand after eyeing him from head to toe. Being examined like that, which reminded him of his first meeting with Sebastian, made Arthur blush. He felt awkward in front of the waxen, otherworldly handsome young man. As if he had done something wrong. As if beauty were a power akin to that of royalty. Who was he compared to him? He saw a completely opposite copy of Ciel and was confused by his discovery. Twins had the same magic as did fairy tales, and Arthur lived for fairy tales. “R-really?” “Exceptionally good things, don’t worry. I was wondering when Ciel would finally show you to us. Do you want some tea? We have Egyptian biscuits.” By the writer’s dashing, sparkling eyes it became clear that he was very interested in staying — another, utterly different Ciel! — and yet… he refused. “Thank you, but I have to go. Next time, perhaps.” “I take you at your word.” “Come, Mr. Wordsmith, I’ll give you the paints,” Ciel gestured for Arthur to follow him and made his way to the building. Sebastian could only imagine the torture those silky and delicate feet were suffering beneath the tight belts of his shoes. Gabriel smirked. “Ciel!” “What?” “How are your sandals? Did you survive a walk in them? I warned you that…” “It’s fine,” Ciel interrupted. “I’m feeling fine. These sandals are very comfortable.” “Are you sure?” “Of course, Gabriel. I’m like Hermes in them.” “Alright,” the twin just shrugged. Once Ciel and Arthur were out of sight, he nodded to Sebastian: “Mr. Michaelis, you’ve got sand on your jacket. Looks like a print from someone’s dirty shoes.” With his expression inscrutable, Sebatian took off his jacket and said: “A dog.” “A dog?” “A big one. It put its paws on me.” “What a bad dog. What did Madame White say? You are a dog person… it had to obey you.” “Perhaps she was wrong. I don’t like dogs.” “I remember, cats are more to your liking.” “Where is your father?” “I don’t know, he and mother left for the town. I think they won’t be back until the evening. Lizzie and I want to go to the sea late in the afternoon, but Ciel, alas, won’t join us.” “Why are you so sure?” “I don’t know…” “If you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my room.” Sebastian swiftly disappeared into the hotel. Only when he was on the top of the stairs did he notice that the demon had fallen behind. More than that, he stayed to have tea next to Gabriel. He took his seat right between the girl and the young man, sniffing the fragrant biscuits with date and prune and moving his muzzle between Phantomhive’s shoulder and that of his lady. This is not him! hissed Sebastian, but the creature didn’t even move its horn.