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♚ island.
Who: Ciel and you!
When: afternoon of the 26th.
Where: the island--the beach.
Style: whatever you prefer!
Status: open as open can be.
[ he's been in Vatheon nearly half a year now, yet he has never set foot on the island before. he'd seen no point to it, really. tropical climates don't suit a young Englishman who prefers to wear starched fabrics and would not take kindly to sand in his well-polished shoes. but with all the bustling about in the bubble lately--'Fisholympics,' how absurd--he's looking for a more quiet spot to spend an afternoon. and since looking at Sebastian's smirking face would no doubt utterly ruin his mood, remaining in his own home is not an option. after deciding that the sunlit warmth of the island might, perhaps, be pleasant (in a small dose), he had opted for that, instead.
it's more peaceful, at least, up on the island, even if the heat makes him a bit uncomfortable. but he's dressed down today, in a simple white Oxford shirt with short sleeves, and a pair of his usual knee-length trousers; no further embellishments. and he's staying well back from the ocean, for the moment. a blanket has been spread on the sand closest to the trees on the edge of the beach, under the shade, and there is a picnic basket atop it, its former contents laid out beside it on pretty white china plates, summertime sweets and finger foods prepared for him by Sebastian: raspberry tartlets with flaky crust and whipped buttercream, delicate teacakes drizzled in honey, crisp gingersnaps with fresh vanilla icing, and small sandwiches with fluffy white bread. quite a lot of food for such a small boy.
Ciel himself is seated on the blanket, legs bent and feet bare, his shoes set neatly aside, stockings stuffed into their toes. the ribbon which had once been in a perfect knot around his neck is set atop the picnic basket for safe-keeping. he's undone the first and second buttons of his Oxford, and looks quite relaxed as he reclines against the tree behind him, an open book propped up on his knees. ]
When: afternoon of the 26th.
Where: the island--the beach.
Style: whatever you prefer!
Status: open as open can be.
[ he's been in Vatheon nearly half a year now, yet he has never set foot on the island before. he'd seen no point to it, really. tropical climates don't suit a young Englishman who prefers to wear starched fabrics and would not take kindly to sand in his well-polished shoes. but with all the bustling about in the bubble lately--'Fisholympics,' how absurd--he's looking for a more quiet spot to spend an afternoon. and since looking at Sebastian's smirking face would no doubt utterly ruin his mood, remaining in his own home is not an option. after deciding that the sunlit warmth of the island might, perhaps, be pleasant (in a small dose), he had opted for that, instead.
it's more peaceful, at least, up on the island, even if the heat makes him a bit uncomfortable. but he's dressed down today, in a simple white Oxford shirt with short sleeves, and a pair of his usual knee-length trousers; no further embellishments. and he's staying well back from the ocean, for the moment. a blanket has been spread on the sand closest to the trees on the edge of the beach, under the shade, and there is a picnic basket atop it, its former contents laid out beside it on pretty white china plates, summertime sweets and finger foods prepared for him by Sebastian: raspberry tartlets with flaky crust and whipped buttercream, delicate teacakes drizzled in honey, crisp gingersnaps with fresh vanilla icing, and small sandwiches with fluffy white bread. quite a lot of food for such a small boy.
Ciel himself is seated on the blanket, legs bent and feet bare, his shoes set neatly aside, stockings stuffed into their toes. the ribbon which had once been in a perfect knot around his neck is set atop the picnic basket for safe-keeping. he's undone the first and second buttons of his Oxford, and looks quite relaxed as he reclines against the tree behind him, an open book propped up on his knees. ]
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