PrincessJodie

London, 1940 It was a star-strewn night, the air cool and still. Far above the streets of London a thick fog hung, occasional planes hurtling through the darkness with sirens blaring into the night. Not a soul was to be seen on the streets, the cobbles deserted and rubble occupying every corner; no lights flickered within windows from behind black-out blinds. All was still, all was quiet. Almost too quiet. The German Pilot circling above the abandoned English capital did not expect the sudden change in atmosphere. First he barely registered the cold seeping into the cock-pit of his plane, but then he gave an instinctive curl of the fingers

Ciel flopped on to his bed, uncomfortable and tired. Investigating everything in the blasted school was more difficult than first anticipated, the boy over-whelmed by fatigue after more sucking up to Clayton and more intense work. Luckily nobody else was in the dormitry yet, and when Sebastian walked through the door he smirked at the figure spread-eagled on the crisp white sheets. "Phantomhive." He said sternly, striding over and peering down through his glasses. "You shouldn't be resting, I do recall you were asked to go and do the dishes." Ciel looked up, flipping himself on to his back and removing his face from where it was buried in t

Epilouge Arthur stared at his reflection in the cheval mirror, tracing his fingers over his smiling twin. He'd had that blissful grin over his handsome face all morning, and as he glanced behind him at the suit hung up on the wardrobe door, he realised that he'd never felt better. Radient, aureate sunlight filtered through the windows, casting shadows on his pale countenance, making his blonde hair look like a halo of gold. Somewhere in his house, specifically his one back in London, Alfred was a concentrated blur of enthusiasm too; Arthur remarking to himself that his American best man was almost as excited as he was. But, of course, nobody

Letting his fingers ghost over the scar on his face, Arthur sighed. A warm, fragrant breeze drifted through the window and the sound of birds resonated through the palace gardens; but nothing seemed to calm him. Restless and unsure what to do until Yao returned, the Queen adjusted the ermine-collared cloak he wore around his shoulders and then let his bandadged hands drop to his sides. The pain had subsided slightly, but every time he moved or put pressure on certain parts of his body it would overwhelme him again- He found it truly infuriating, perching on the end of his bed and letting another sigh expell from his parted lips. He'd been pac

After entering the house the trio were met with an impenetrable silence, the sounds of London far behind them. The quiet didn't seem normal, the air thick with dampness and a cold more bitter than they'd ever experienced; barely any light at all filtered through the shattered windows (the street lamps were in disrepair, providing no light at all when twilight fell), silken cob-webs strung across them like bunting or a haunting sort of decoration. The three began to advance forward after a moment of disbelief, flinching at every sound or movement that resonated around them. The foyer of the building would have once been grand, now it seemed ba

______ didn't know what compelled her to wake up so early (although she often watched the sun rise), so began to slide sleepily into a comfy shirt and jeans. She remembered that she and Arthur had planned a trip down to the cove, pleading internally that the weather would be good despite the crisp chill of the morning. Usually Arthur would have been awake at such times, so she padded into the halls of her parent's home, made a mug of tea and approached the door to the spare room. She was touched by what she saw. Her lover was almost always as restless as the sea he'd came from, but for once he was peaceful. Arthur was curled up on his bed w

You: England glanced left and right, emerald eyes regarding the empty room carefully. It wasn't often that he was left in solitude, and more often than not silence meant the rest of the nations were seeking to prank him. "Erm...Alfred? Anyone?" He said cautiously, eyebrows furrowing. This wasn't normal at all. Usually this space was occupied by the flamboyant Francis, calculating Ludwig, obnoxious Alfred, the mischevious Gilbert; along with the rest of the nations, usually things were a hive of activity. The contemplative nation watched dust motes dance in the slanting rays of radient golden light, streaming in through the windows, unsure wha