—…

phantom-butler:

beastly-beauty:

phantom-butler:

beastly-beauty:

She finds her breath hitching quietly, the damn air getting caught in her throat and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe at all. Her eyes did not follow him, but focused intently on the ground instead — a perfectly round pebble, to be exact, since it seemed to stand out among the others. Perfect, just like…

She eventually manages to relax, thin shoulders falling as a small breath of air finally escapes her and her chest falls. Her fingers reach up, toying with a button on her jacket absently as she speaks, her ruby gaze still downcast. She couldn’t, wouldn’t look at him.

“Of course,” she replies almost breathlessly before quietly clearing her throat and tossing her ebony curls over her shoulder to regain her composure. “One mustn’t loose focus. One misstep and it can be over in an instant.”

         ♆ There was tension in her response; Black could pick up on this with such ease that only a being of his age could possess. Was he getting to her? The thought humored him. If there was something to be got at, then surely that meant there was something she was still not saying. Allowing his gloved hand to slip down the linen frame, he felt the friction heat up the untarnished skin of his fingertips, leaving him with a lingering warmth that had more of a bite then anything else—.`

Yes—… And what a shame that would be—…

         ♆ So he turned to her; ruby eyes trailing over the glossy sheen of her voluptuous curls and then down her figure. For someone who clearly had such a strong and confident facade, this unease in her words only intrigued him further. Pausing to purse his lips, the ex butler spoke a few, quiet utterances—.`

         Though life is not much differentis it? …—You’ve learned how to balance quite a bit, I can tell…—

The man’s wandering gaze did not go unnoticed and had he been any other human being, she would’ve scowled. Yet, instead of angering her, his gaze left her feeling cold. It was… strange. She was unsure how to deal with such an unusual occurrence. Her arms cross under her chest and tighten, just a little, as some form of comfort to perhaps make the cold vanish.

Ever since he first arrived, Black had given Beast nothing but trouble. Something was off about him. She could sense it, if only a little. It worried her to some degree, and she wasn’t as trust worthy as her sister who had become attached to the man’s younger companion. Being in his presence like this, alone, did nothing to ease that worry, that uneasiness. 

“Life,” she began slowly as she considered her choice of words, “is so much more dangerous than a mere circus act. No matter how well one can balance, it only takes a little to tip the scale…”

         ♆ Ruddy eyes continued to linger on her; hesitant, and half expecting her to go on. —There was something that lay beneath the surface of this female; something perhaps a bit dark, and deeper than most. As his lips began to curve upwards in the slightest degree, he released a small hum of thought. Humans could be so very interesting at times.`

What thoughtful words—… If I didn’t know better, I would assume you have nearly experienced such ill footwork…~

         ♆ To gather information on her past; yes, this was what his task had been marked as—; for the history of one could only be closely linked with that of the rest of the people in this circus, and then he could be on his way. As a performer, this was his act—…`

"Perhaps…"

Her words are quiet, and she considers a moment if she should continue. The man who stood before her, was not worthy of her trust. This much she knew for sure. She watched him carefully, ruby eyes taking in his appearance. He was dressed too well, spoke too well. She knew he had been a butler, but were butlers really that proper? She didn’t know. She had never met one.

His eyes, however, were odd. Red, like hers. However, instead of being cold and wary, his seemed to gaze into her very soul and it made her stomach twist and turn in away most unpleasant. Her eyes were locked onto his perhaps too long and she pulled them away. She mustn’t linger, she told herself.

"I was not raised in kind conditions. I did not work in a manor, like Smile and yourself. I couldn’t work,” a pause, followed by short, bitter laughter, "East End is not kind. Especially to deformed children."

There was a harshness there, a resentment toward not only London’s gutter, but perhaps the working class as well. She was not fond of those who had been cruel to them when they were on the streets. Nobles always turning away, making crude remarks on things that they were not to be blamed for. Although it had been nearly a decade since she had last been on the streets, those words never left her. They haunted her.

So…

It seems as if Doll and Smile are… falling apart.

I’m glad. Perhaps then Black won’t be around nearly as much.

phantom-butler replied to your post: phantom-butler replied to your post: OOC;; { ooc;…

{ // Really? Gosh, thanks.~ I didn’t think anyone really did anymore;; My muse has been fleeting—… But yeah, definitely don’t worry.