riverview | video | un: undertaker

{The alcohol has calmed him and made him the tiniest bit tipsy, but no, acceptance is a big part of his personality. Especially when said acceptance benefits him. ~~What? He is a greedy, grasping human!~~

The nails are a nice touch - and useful too! - he decides. He relaxes back against the pillow, sighing.}

You have my undying gratitude. I'd rather it not end so...messily. It really is a shame I can't get a second shot at it all. {He wouldn't need a demon to sever the jugular veins of those responsible. It's all an ornate game, really, and he would hold the upper hand after cheating death. Or is it cheating Grim Reapers? Ah well. He can dream.

His thoughts scatter at the soft touch and he closes his eyes.} Good for you. I think we listen to far too many. I admire independence.

Edited 2017-12-02 05:45 (UTC)

[Now that he knew he hadn't managed to push Vincent away, nothing would change. That had been his only real concern in revealing that part of his identity to the man. They could go about their lives as if nothing had happened. Gratitude aside, although he was glad to have it, still made no difference. Vincent was always the Earl, always would be, and he just an assistant, a tool to use to make things happen.]

[It was the one place in any world that he would let himself be used as such, and when Ciel decided he wanted to do the same, he would have Undertaker's skills at his disposal as well.]

Maybe not in our world, but you do have a second shot at it here, milord. You are alive again and your son is here with us, even if others are not. Think on that as you rest, and know that I am here to look after both of you.

[He can see those nails working on the Earl and he lets his touch roam a little further over Vincent's back, going from shoulder to shoulder.]

{An assistant he might be, a tool sometimes depending on the task, but, above all, Undertaker is a friend. Vincent has only a handful of true friends - each one chosen with care based on their personality and/or skills. A man in his business cannot risk anything more. But he prefers it to be a small number anyway. The world can tell you what you want and use you. Vincent has no time for false flattery or to be a weapon in anyone's hand but the Queen's.

Sometimes he even wonders whether keeping close ties with her is intelligent. But the Watch-Dog must do as he is bidden and not complain. Much like how a Grim Reaper must do as he is bidden and not complain. Funny how father and son have reached the same conclusion about authority in general.}

I am glad to have him and you. {He brushes back some of the silver hair with his fingers, shifting closer.} I'd like to see what you can do...someday.

{His voice gets quieter and his eyes fall shut. The subject intrigues him greatly and he wishes to know more about Grim Reapers, but he is over-tired and his body wins the fight.}

[It isn't lost on him that this is the first and only time he has ever held his son. The moment shakes him to his core and finds himself glad that Vincent is finally losing the fight to sleep. It's getting harder and harder to maintain that smile or the tears threatening to break free, but he manages it. He isn't completely human anymore, but right then and there, he feels closer to his humanity than he has since the funeral.]

Shhh, my lord. You may, one day. For now, sleep.

[He lets those fingers continue to work on the man and, once he is sure Vincent is well and truly asleep, he allows tears to fall and presses a kiss to the Earl's forehead. It's all short lived. He can't let himself get that emotional, though part of him desperately wants to. It would ruin poor Vincent's sleep if he did, but he will let himself lie there and close his own eyes and slip off into a nap. Vincent wanted him there, so he would stay.]

{And his son doesn't mind being held. Vincent may not seem like an affectionate sort, but he is with those he loves. As he drifts off, his hand falls to rest against Undertaker's chest. His breathing is deep and even and his expression is serene. The visions and memories of what he endured are silent and, strangely, instead, he has dreams of his mother.

They are good memories and he makes a small sound, moving in his sleep to embrace Undertaker fully, his head resting on the other man's chest. There he stays, catching up on all the slumber he had missed. However hunger is destined to wake him eventually and he stirs a few hours later, blinking blearily.}

- Undertaker?

[What dreams he has anymore are quiet sorts, unremarkable. It's rare that he will remember them when he wakes, but he does wake, eventually, on his back with an Earl curled against him, to the sound of his name called.]

[He inhales softly with a light start and looks over at Vincent, searching his face for any sign of panic or danger before he's even fully out of his own slumber. Sleep even still weighs heavily on his voice.]

M'lord? Mm... Everything okay?

{The touch of his mother - her hands smoothing his hair or her arms embracing him - linger even as his growling stomach wakes him. He rubs one of his eyes and grins at the answer, sitting up slowly.}

Yes. I feel much better. {Should he be embarrassed? Maybe, but he's not. He feels far too content for any negative emotions.} Did you rest well? Would you like to sleep more?

Nn... Good. [He moans so softly, relieved, and lets his head fall back to the pillowing under him. For a moment, he stays as he is, one hand coming up to rub at his face to try and help him wake. Half asleep though he is, he can still hear that stomach growling. Vincent is more than capable of getting his own lunch, but he shouldn't be here either.]

I should be up. If I sleep any longer, I may not sleep at all tonight.

[He pushes himself upright a moment or two later, eyes still closed, and runs a hand back through his hair out of habit... and frowns as his fingers catch on a snag. He hadn't braided it before taking the Earl to rest. Of course some of it would tangle. At least the knot is loose already.] Hungry are you, milord?

{His stomach is as shameless as him! He chuckles at all the sound it makes.} I think sometimes Diedrich is right in eating as he does. {Not that Vincent could be so focused on eating as many sandwiches as possible every day.}

Let me... {Spying the tangle, he is quick to help loosen it, running his fingers through the strands to smooth it out.} Oh a bit. I think I will survive.

[He has a wry look for Vincent under all that hair.] Your friend takes it to extremes, milord. Please don't use him for a role model in that.

[If ever Vincent let himself go that much, he might be terribly concerned for his health, especially in this world where second chances are a thing. But then the Earl moves to help him with his hair. He gives a small protest, one that ends as soon as Vincent's hands are on his mane. It doesn't take but a few moments of this to slowly loosen near every muscle in his body.]

Mmn.. We should feed you, eventually. [His eyes have gone closed, his shoulders slack. He really does love this. He'll need to take a brush to it to get the rest out, if there are any others, but for now he's content to let Vincent help with that one little mess.]

You think? I am not sure where he puts all of that food, honestly. {Vincent keeps Diedrich plenty active, though, and his poor friend probably has his fair share of depression after his death.} A dog needs a master to exercise him.

{He might worry about his health too! But he isn't terribly attached to food - beyond eating something delicious now and then - and he is active by nature on top of it. Yet that really doesn't matter once he sees Undertaker's reaction. Has he found a sensitive spot? He grins and takes his time, gently separating the strands.}

Do you have a brush handy? I'd like to see to this before we go.

Edited 2017-12-04 02:40 (UTC)

[He smiles, humming quietly in agreement. After having seen Diedrich for himself, he's not sure where the man puts it either, but he has a few ideas, namely in his belly and behind. But he won't say as much. The feel of the hands in his hair so soon after being woken up from a nap have him all but boneless for the moment.]

[Then Vincent brings a brush into the conversation and he groans, dragging himself from his stupor with a hand roughing up his face. Out of it, Undertaker. You know better!] Oh, thank you, but you don't need to fight this battle. I'll get to it in a minute.

But you were enjoying it. {Vincent pouts, throwing all of his manly pride aside for a truly convincing expression. ~~Who has he learned this skill from?}~~

You have lovely hair, Undertaker. I have noticed that most silver hairs are coarse - especially if they are due to age - but yours feels soft and smooth.

[He happens to turn his head just enough to catch a hazy view of that pout, and sighs, defeated. ~~Probably his mother.~~]

Ah, my lord, you will be the death of me with that face. I had noticed that myself, but I don't quite know how to explain it. We don't age like we used to. [His skin kept its youthfulness, his strength was still top form, and yet his hair had lost its color once he stopped caring to keep it. Strange.]

[He wiggles a hand in the direction of the bathroom.] In the bathroom across the hall, there's a brush on the counter top, if you insist. You can't miss it. If I'm still conscious by the end of this, I'll make us both what you like.

Edited 2017-12-04 03:05 (UTC)

{Victorious, Vincent slides out of bed and quickly makes his way to the bathroom, gathering the brush. He pauses a moment more to right his appearance somewhat - as well as splashing some water on his face - before he returns.}

If I am the death of a Grim Reaper, that will be something else! {He sits back on the bed and gently draws Undertaker's hair into his grip. Once it is resting against the man's back, he begins to brush in careful strokes.}

Rachel used to go on and on about your pretty hair too. I don't think she would have passed up this opportunity either. {He grins at the offer.} You have done enough for me. I can make us something to eat.

{Hopefully? He thinks he remembers how to cook.}

[While Vincent is gone, he takes that time to straighten his shirt, ruffled by sleep. It's more for something to do than anything, but it isn't long before the Earl returns to attack his hair in earnest. It's a struggle nearly immediately for him to keep his eyes open once those hands go into his hair, followed by the brush. Something about those fingers and bristles gently tugging all along his scalp... It's wonderful.]

If you were, you would surprise us both. [He has been around long enough to know there isn't much that can do in one of his kind. Though not impossible, he would more be surprised at why Vincent would want to kill him than he would with that he could manage it.]

Mm... Did she? Here I found myself more envious of her hair than of my own. [He shook his head.] You're truly not bothered by that, my lord? That you're speaking with an agent of death? I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise, given your history and all, but I'm unnatural. [And that they had known each other and worked with each other for so long! Then again, this was Vincent Phantomhive...]

{While he laughs a bit at the idea of causing Undertaker's death, it is not something he will ever actively seek. In fact, the idea saddens him greatly. If push comes to shove and someone has to die, he would much rather it be him. ~~Which is why he was likely found holding onto Rachel so tightly.~~}

Surprises can be nice, but that is not one I ever wish to experience. {He reaches the end of the strands and lifts the brush, beginning the process all over again.} She loved Ann's hair, Ann loved hers and all of us loved yours.

{Well he can't speak for Ann, but come on. Long silver hair is not seen nearly enough!}

Mm you are a retired agent of death, are you not? {He pauses and leans in closer.} There is nothing unnatural about death. You played a hand in it and saw many souls on their journey. What would have become of them if you didn't do your job?

Edited 2017-12-04 03:47 (UTC)

[Oh no, again? He's turning into goo. His shoulders have already gone slack, and it's getting harder and harder to hold his head up under all of that attention. Even his voice has softened over the minutes, but his lips do manage to quirk a smile.]

You're all such handsome people. What irony that you envied the hair of someone like me. [He'd giggle over it, but he's far to relaxed, soothed by those hands and that brush, to make it happen.]

They would've been eaten by demons. [His grin tightens, for just a second.] Death itself is not unnatural, but what I am is. Grim reapers are necessary, but... Ah, it's a whole bloody mess. Perhaps we shouldn't talk about it.

{It's good he has a soft place to rest in case he loses all solidity, then! Vincent notices the change and he smiles to himself, his voice softening and lowering to match. He doesn't want to spook his poor friend.}

You think you are less handsome? {He tuts.} I can't let you keep that misconception. You are different, that is all, but differences can be beautiful.

{He tucks some hair behind Undertaker's ear once it has been smoothed out.}

Demons? Are they truly that prolific? That doesn't surprise me considering the state of our world. {His thoughts shift to Ciel's eye and he frowns.} Necessary but unnatural? I do not follow. I would like for you to talk about it if you so desire. I had suspicions that there was another world beyond the two I knew, but I never expected for you to be living proof.

[Comforted as he is by the attention to his hair, he doesn't miss the shift in tone, and it pulls a bigger smile from him. The Earl is trying to lull him back to sleep, he suspects, but he resists, letting himself linger just on the edge. Balance is his stopping point, and as long as he keeps himself upright, he'll remain conscious, mostly.]

Not... less handsome. I simply don't care so much for appearances anymore. As long as I'm decent, my job matters more. [That hair is moved behind his ear and he tilts his head to assist it. But it's the shift in conversation that opens his eyes and draws a soft sigh from him and makes him shake off the sluggishness of his pampering, nice as it had been.]

[One look back over his shoulder again at the Earl and he wonders if he has said too much on the matter. Of course Vincent would worry.]

They number fewer than as many humans as there have ever been. I couldn't give you an exact head count, but there's not the real concern. Both sides of the afterworld exist within a balance. They have their rebels, much as you would see in your everyday human life, but all of it is... [He shrugs, shaking his head, for lack of better term.] normal. If you live a normal life.

{He wouldn't mind tucking him back in; he has some experience doing that with his sons. Really, he is quite good at it too! He repeats his actions with the other side, smoothing out the thick strands and tucking them behind Undertaker's ear again. The little head tilt that follows is endearing and he sets the brush down on the bedding, opting to stroke over the hair with his hand instead.}

For an undertaker, I say you fit the part to a tee. {But he is fond of interesting sorts and while more undertakers might choose a suit for their profession, he likes that Undertaker chooses robes instead.}

What if you do not live a normal life? {His hand stops and it is his turn to sigh.} I'm worried about him and I know I'm only human. I never thought of that as a weakness before now.

Edited 2017-12-04 05:04 (UTC)

[Oh, that hand over his hair. It's so hard to keep his eyes open, and even now his lids flutter, but he keeps them at least half way there through sheer willpower, though it's beginning to sway. The Earl needs him awake, and he needs to be awake, but those fingers will do him in yet if he isn't careful and he knows it.]

What better way to hide myself than right in plain view? [It isn't really a question.]

Then you end up like I did. [He bows his head, quickly dropping the subject, knowing good and well what the man means.] You've every right to worry. Never think of that as a weakness. I once did. But take heart - there are ways to undo what has been done. Your boy had suffered too much before the demon took advantage of his distress to know what he was doing. He may be bound by contract, but contracts can be broken, even demonic ones. He may yet be freed.

You make a fair point. {That is how the Phantomhives operate too. Many would not even think of them as the Watch-Dogs of the Queen, though he suspects, over the decades, it is becoming better known in certain circles.

He doesn't know why those next words make him incredibly sad and...yes...confused. He thinks that death never feels natural even when it is, so how horrible does it have to be in order to be considered "unnatural"? But his heart knows the answer and his touch falters.}

Is that how they all come to the occupation? {Suicide? Vincent closes his eyes and holds onto the back of Undertaker's shirt.} How can I help? Can I help? I want to break it immediately and prepare him better for his duties.

[There's a shift in the mood as he watches the man come to his conclusions. The smile never leaves him, but his body's want for sleep does and he turns ever so slightly to face Vincent.] Initially. Some choose to stay, some get forgiven.

[And more as Vincent questions him about helping with Ciel. His hand moves up to the Earl's shoulder, something there to center and calm him.] What you can do is to be his father, be understanding. It may not seem like much, but these are grounds that even I am new to in some ways. The demon that plagues your son is not here right now, and that is to his advantage. At the same time, so is holding onto the seal. Your son controls it as long as they each hold up their end of the deal, but I've a mind to kill the beast if it strays.

[He gives Vincent's shoulder a squeeze and offers a grin, one light and full of humor and a promise to tear a demon limb from limb if it so much as looks at the child wrong.] But! Here and now, he is safe. You are safe. We still have time.

{The entire scenario makes him miserable, frankly, and he doesn't hide it well. He is like a dog on a leash watching its puppy fall into the clutches of some greater beast. Panicking has occurred to him - frequently - but he is doing his best to hold that in check.

The hand does steady him and he looks to Undertaker for sincere advice on the matter. He is completely out of his depth and he is painfully aware of it.}

Please do. {He leans his head to the side, resting his cheek against the hand on his shoulder.} Do not kill him kindly. He seeks to devour that which is more precious than a thousand of him.

{No, a million.}

Can a demon hurt you? {The possibility undoes any reassurance he may have felt.} Undertaker, if the beast comes here, you know I do not mind playing bait whilst you deal with it.

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