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located in Victorian England, a part of The Slightly Chipped Full Moon, one of the many universes on RPG.

Victorian England

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The bespectacled demon knew very well that his young master had a taste for extravagance and perfection. And so he used his demonic abilities to (almost) their fullest extent, in order to appease the finicky Trancy. He admitted silently that arranging intricate centrepieces, decorating his master's ballroom, and doing household chores were rather bothersome and a tad beneath him—unless they ended up symmetrically delicious, a feat only a demon could produce. Such beauty that was commonly destroyed by the mirthful blonde, it was surprising how well he could contain his irritation. A slight twitch of the brow, and a curt, stiff bow were the only indications. If one were to squint hard enough, they might've been able to catch the butler's golden eyes narrowing in clear annoyance. He was a demon, after all! He was feared in the Underworld, and his power was completely beyond human comprehension. He could do anything, and have anyone he wanted. Without an ounce of hesitation, he could snap his fingers and end any pertinent human life. Homo sapien lifespans were disgustingly short, a mere smudge in the newspapers. Why would he waste his time serving as a butler underneath a seventeen year old boy? Because of the contract he'd made with the young Trancy. Because Trancy had killed Ciel Phantomhive, lengthening their contract to eternity. Another word for absolute, you ask? Unadulterated. And the relationship had steadily matured into something completely different, yet so much the same that he often questioned whether or not he'd imagined Ciel's untimely death. Eternity forbids thee to forget.

He softly cleared his throat behind his gloved hand, shaking free the troublesome thoughts that plagued him daily. With said hand dipped in front of his lips, he swiftly adjusted his old spectacles, which had slightly fallen down the bridge of his nose. He then went back to his normal, rigid posture, as if nothing has happened. Busying himself in the kitchen was one of his favourite pastimes—though he would never admit to it—and it was nearing dinner time, just as Alois would have figured. In a quick motion, he placed a small bit of his silken glove between his pearly teeth and removed his glove, followed by the other. Claude placed them neatly out of the way, folding the fingers into the palms and lying them flat onto the adjacent cupboard. Now, came the best part.

The black-clad, golden-eyed demon excelled in the arts of fine cuisine, a talent that only Sebastian could combat against. For the appetizer: a delicious French dish: Lemon-butter Poached Maine Lobster with cauliflower gratin, topped with an appeasing, pureed Vanilla Butternut Squash. A perfect meal for the days spent on tropical beaches, surrounded by sea urchins—a soft chuckle escaped his lips at this metaphorical gibe—and colourful fish. For the delectable main course, a familial dish: Maple Leaf Farm Goose breast, drizzled with confit, fon gras, cognac apple brullee and homemade chestnut Marsala sauce. It was a dish that had followed his Master since he was younger, ever since he and his strange friend plundered the goose eggs. And for desert, something a bit more adult: Warm Chocolate S'mores, with toasted marshmallows basted in dark chocolate and banana rum ice cream to accompany it. Everything was freshly made, and in a matter of minutes. Pots were spun, steam warmed the room around him and the different smells wafted pleasantly from the kitchen. It was only a matter of time that Alois tired of waiting for him. The demon played certain games with the blonde now, games that could not be won. Just to amuse himself.

With only moments to spare, Claude prepared the dining room with the ease and grace only a grandiose feline could radiate. Fingers nimbly grasping the crimson tablecloth to rightly flip it over, candles flipped in mid air and he caught them just in time, handling them with the care he might have expressed to a lover. Each dish was expertly placed on the now creme-coloured cloth, complimented with gleaming cutlery and a glass of sweet wine. Alois' tastes had grown along with him. It was surprising that the shorter boy now reached his chest, nearly tall enough to look him dead in the eye. A small smile twitched at the corners of his nonchalant lips: things were changing.