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[stabilimentum]

[A smooth, sedulous voice answers:]

You have reached Claude Faustus, butler to the Earl Alois Trancy. How may I be of service?

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1/2...

[stabilimentum.livejournal.com]

Yes, Your Highness.

[It has never felt better than now to say those words. Claude wants to say more, much more, a million more yeses and ten times the I want yous. Right now, more than anything, Claude wants to pick up Alois, carry him into the washroom, and deliberately take care of him-- He wants to bathe his human's body with ten reverent fingers and a terribly tender tongue. He'd wash between every toe, and floss around every tooth, cleaning Alois thoroughly until he sparkled as much as the fiery Hope Diamond. Afterward, if only Alois could allow it, Claude would get on his knees and thank him for existing, and perhaps find out if Alois is hot enough to singe his tongue.

That will have to wait, however, he tells himself. Being in close proximity to Alois is making him feel less in control than he would like to. He doesn't want to lose his mind when they have so much to do in regards to making Sebastian suffer. Still, this is definitely a soul worth tearing apart--it's not only a ripple, but a tsunami in the long, long, idle life of a demon.]

Then, if you'll permit me...

[Claude reaches behind his back to retrieve one of Alois' hands. He gently overlaps it with his fingers curled over the edges; displaying extreme care, he extricates that tiny but ferocious grip from his shirt. Together, he guides their hands around and down, and against the darker green hem, and then under the hem, underneath his pajamas. He presses Alois' palm to his skin and realizes it's been a while since they've touched like this. His skin is smooth and strangely cool, like sculpted marble at room temperature, and it's exactly what Alois wanted from him.

Then, as he moves his human's touch higher, that smooth skin abruptly becomes disgustingly cratered. The pockmarked scar inflicted by Lævateinn is ungodly and ugly as hell--its ridged tendrils wrap around his chest like scarification from jellyfish stings. Alois wasn't looking in the right place for the story, that's all.]

Close your eyes and listen to me, [he murmurs, as if he's going to sing a lullaby. His teeth are aching with the need to bite something.] It began with a formal duel between demons.

Hoheo taralna...

[Oh. Maybe it isn't bullshit after all.]

Rondero tarel.

[The words themselves are almost tangible, almost as comfortable as them holding hands, as entrancing as the unintimidating darkness on the back of their eyelids even though