caughtinanetwork | [ dream / video ]

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[ dream / video ]

They peer in at him with their cruel, beady eyes and laugh and jeer with long crooked smiles, faces half-hidden by masks so that he couldn't tell them apart even if the light from their candles didn't leave him half-blind. They're faceless and nameless, and it's almost more of an effort than it's worth to struggle when their greedy fingers reach for him, curl as relentless and vice-like as shackles around his bird-boned limbs. Once, they held hot metal to his back, and he had heard and smelt his skin sizzling and cooking almost before he'd felt it. But oh, he had felt it--still feels it, a constant raw stinging hurt which he doesn't dare to touch. Branded like an animal. It isn't surprising; they treat him with less dignity than one. It's all hands and eyes and cold iron bars between his fingers, dirt and blood caked in his hair and between his toes, cuts and scrapes not healing and fresh dark bruises blooming where they've hit him or held him too tight. He's long since given up praying. Mother had promised him that God existed, loving and merciful, but she must have been lying.

He hates them. That hatred is the only thing that keeps him alive. It feeds him when they don't.

He knows, when they come in jewels and silk and velvet, in the largest crowd he's seen yet, that it's his time, as he's seen so many others die, writhing and crying and sobbing, or silent and empty. But he's special, he hears them whisper. He's the Phantomhive boy. He's been so lovely to play with, but now it's time for him to fulfill his intended purpose.

He squirms as they pull him from the cage. Or at least, he thinks he's being pulled from the cage--isn't he? There are hands and faces and chains and is that the stone altar beneath him, or the metal floor of the cage still? He's thrashing, either way, using the last of his strength to kick and scream and claw. He's held down against the stone--he's pressed to the bars--wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and at once there's a knife raised high above him and a sinister hand outstretched before him, sharp black claws beckoning, promising, and he's made his choice, because he will not die here. So he reaches desperately past the bars, and as the knife slices down, as those long fingers wrap tight and binding around his own, his right eye burns and he screams:

"Kill them all!"

[ He wakes with that scream still on his lips. It dies in his throat as soon as he realizes he's awake, and his fingers knot in the bedsheets, white-knuckled and shaking. His chest heaves as he attempts to regain his breath, in and out slowly through his nose, his mouth set in a hard grimace. His hair is a mess, his white night shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin with sweat, and he isn't wearing his eye patch--but that's no matter, really, as the video feed catches him directly from his left.

It's a good few minutes before Ciel notices the blinking light from the Dreamberry on his night table beside the bed, but when he does, he sits up at once, plush comforters and goosefeather pillows tossed wildly aside in his haste. He blocks his right eye from view with one hand and bats the device straight off the table with the other. It clatters to the floor, but doesn't seem to be damaged, and continues to record the ceiling until, after a time, the feed automatically cuts off. ]

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[ He wondered how long it would take for this to come on the network. The demon had seen the other dreams that came from this night alone and it struck him, how this little transformed device could have suck power. But the moment he recognized the one that came on screen, he knew it would be yet another one of those nights.

By the time the scream hits his senses, he's already halfway down the hall and headed for his master's bedroom. It would take a few seconds more until that familiar knock would come to Ciel's door. ]

Master? Is everything alright?

[ by the time he enters the room, Ciel's leaning back against the headboard of his bed, though his covers are still a mess around him. his teeth are clenched hard, and he forces himself to unlock his jaw to reply. ]

Is the answer not obvious enough for you, Sebastian?

[ his voice is humorless, and he curses the way it still quivers. that nightmare had felt more real than any in a long time. he's still far from regaining his composure. ]

[ And sure enough, that answers his question. But it was more out of habit than anything which causes him to ask these things before entering the room. He does afterward, soon enough with a pot of warm milk and the honey jar. Always a stock of these things whenever such a night came along. ]

Care for an old staple, sir?

[ It's an offer with the smallest smile. No condescension this time. No mockery. No, his master has ill need of his usual brand of tough treatment. ]

[ his lips quirk up at the corners, though there's no mirth in it. the short bark of a chuckle he gives is rueful, too. ]

You never fail, do you, Sebastian?

[ in other words, 'yes.' he reaches out with small, trembling fingers to accept the cup. no matter how unsteady his hands seem, he won't spill it. past experience is indicative enough of that. ]

As much honey as I like?

[ The cup is transferred and the honey offered in turn as he pulls away to fluff up Ciel's pillow. But the question causes a smirk in turn. ]

Now now. What did you once say about sweets before bed...?

I am not particularly worried about my teeth rotting just because I put a little extra honey in my milk.

[ cue eyeroll. and he does put a little extra honey in his milk, thanks, and the taste of it is sweet and comforting. ]

That damned thing-- [ he gestures toward the Dreamberry on the floor with a tilt of his head, ] --was blinking at me when I woke up.

[ It was a good standby: milk, honey and just the slightest hint of brandy. Did well for nights like this, where reading him a story or two would do little to calm the mind despite the fact they ended up talking about work until the Earl could no longer keep his eyes open.

He pauses, however, picking up the Dreamberry and setting it back down on the bedside table. His eyes are more observant, however. ]

It seems to have replaced the SFC, my lord. I have no doubt the transformation is the city's doing however, one can't be certain just how long this replacement will last.

I've no doubt about it, either. It is always the city's doing. [ Ciel sighs as he agrees, sipping again at his brandied-and-honeyed milk. ] But what is the point of it? What does it do differently?

[ he's been asleep through all of the dream-broadcasting so far, so it now falls to you, Sebastian, to explain to him that the entirety of the city may have just seen his nightmare.

isn't being his butler grand? ]

[ He loves his job. It is the best job without any consequences whatsoever. Pays well, to--

wait. B/a ]

I'm afraid this device has one rather large difference as compared to the SFC.

[ Bracing self aaaaaand... ]

Your dream was broadcast over the entire network, my lord. I had the milk and honey ready ever since I saw it.

action forvaaar~

yes, good. action forever!!

action til the cows come home.

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