Claude Faustus

---------

And time stopped instantly for him - still his butler even in death, still bound to the human. Of course, he was. Of course. Their contract had never been fulfilled. He would be trapped in his own personal hell, with echoing memories in his mind reminding him of the past he couldn't change, the other he tried so to save; to free - and that demon's phantom walked this alien land. A stark black against and endless sea of silvery whites, pale blues and dark flowers...

Claude Faustus now understood the truth behind the words, 'There is no greater hell than the one we craft for ourselves.'

For his was exquisite with all the ways it pained and mocked him. He had learned that he and he alone could see the shadowy specter, that he mustn't try to touch it should he wish it to linger; just as only he hear the sounds, the strains of a violin playing a song known only to two or the chuckle and gentle mocking of his true name from a smirking mouth. Only he saw the flash of carmine or amaranthine eyes, the smile with the faint flash of a delicate kitten-isque fang; a glimpse of swallowtails - at times even the slow fall of black feathers before the figure vanished into the blinding white.

Alois Trancy's heaven was the demon's hell and he'd damned the four that brought him here but most of all blamed himself. If only he had set his pride aside all those years ago, if only he had done a myriad of things he would not be here at all kneeling before a mere slip of a human who played at controlling a creature such as himself. He did this; put himself in this place – this position. “Your Highness, surely you know I died your butler. I need no contract to remind me of this fact. I have been your butler, your demon since you uttered that phrase; an unholy prayer to summon me forth.”

“Even so-, “ a pause, a hesitation for the boy is uncertain. “Even so, I think it may be time to let you go before you end up like that butterfly.” The butterfly the blond is convinced the delicate creature had died just to spite him, to escape. “Dead then swallowed up by flames. I destroyed it, Claude. I did more than cripple its wings. I broke its spirit, its heart. I won’t do that to you.” His hands grip at the demon’s hair.

“Yes, you died my butler but you and I both know you’ll always truly belong to someone else.” His lips twisted into a smile, not without an edge of malice for Alois was still bitter about how things had transpired between them, how he was tricked and cheated. “You have yet to grant my wish only I find I don’t want that any longer. I have another wish for you to fulfill. I want you to go back to the human world, alive.”

Claude almost snorted as it was he settled for a subtle arch of his brows. As if he hadn’t tried his hand at escape long before Alois seemed to come to this conclusion. He had tried many things; spells and incantations, every ritual he could think of an attempt escape this place. “You ask me for something I cannot do. I can’t leave this place any more than I could give Ciel Phantomhive to you. As loath as I am to admit this, I can do very little in this place; my powers are rather limited to the point of being nonexistent.” Those words hurt they were a blow to his pride and ego that nothing could soothe.

“You can’t but this is my world in a manner of speaking.” The blond responded smugly, swaying slightly to rock on his heels. “But there’s a price to pay and I’m not doing it.” He peered at the kneeling demon. “I’m going to give you freedom, a second chance but in return you pay the price. It isn’t much, just your power for a few days – tell me Claude can you handle being helpless if it means you get to return to your precious Sebastian again?” Bitterness had been creeping into his tone by now it was dripping like honeyed venom from the once-earl’s voice.

The demon can’t believe what he’s hearing, his breath, his heart – his everything seems to stop; not that he requires of these functions in this place. Was this a trick or an illusion of his crazed mind? But something, something dangerously like hope came to life in his chest. Alois’s words had stirred the embers of that longing he had never been able to shake, fanned and fed them til they were a lick of fire like a candle’s flame; steadily growing hotter, larger.

Did the boy not see? Already he was helpless, here in this place he was helpless bound on a tight chain. Ah, but to have the freedom, the slimmest of chances to catch a glimpse of the real Sebastian, to hear his voice, to be able to touch him – for the chance at doing any of these things he would gladly give his all for it was worth any cost. His head bowed after a moment and he managed a whisper, in a voice strained from the struggle to hold back emotion, to deny the urge he had to beg. “He is worth everything to me.”

Alois nodded and placed his hand on the top of the demon’s head. He exhaled softly the sound almost a sob as it passed his lips. “He doesn’t know how lucky he is.” The words are a harsh whisper even as the world around them took on a hazy, rippling appearance. The ground beneath them trembled then split cracking and crumbling a bit at first before becoming a gaping void, yet somehow they didn’t fall – they hovered. “This is going to feel strange.”

Those words where the only warning Claude got before his body was alive with pain. He couldn’t move not even to blink, anguished sounds raw and animal like whimpers and whines left him; tears trailing over his cheeks. His bones broke, shrank; shifting, changing and reforming. It was agony and he couldn’t even so much as breathe let alone writhe. When the pain subsided he found himself held, cradled gently. Alois’s hands held him and stroked soothingly over feathers the shade of a dark buttercup. Claude Faustus gave an angry cry, outraged but it came out as a loud trill; a piercing whistle because you see, birds can’t scream.