Sebastian "weirdo nerd" Michaelis (
untiltheend) wrote2037-05-21 10:15 pm
IC Contact

This is Sebastian Michaelis. I am unavailable at present, but please leave a message. Should a response be needed I will reply when time permits me. Please do keep your message brief.

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...Hrrmm.] I suppose the entire point of this whole debacle was to show everyone exactly how low they will stoop in the wrong circumstances.
Well, then. I of course understand would you rather ask others, but do let me know if you need anything while it lasts. I work in the kitchens, and thus have easy access to the inventory.
[It's not that he's concerned (death-tolling is much a case of "just power through it and stop complaining" anyway, isn't it?), but by all heavens, Sebastian can't abide someone's first and lasting impression of him being some lowlife, out-of-control freak.]
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[ He feels a headache coming back. But of course, Sebastian works in the kitchens. Will fights the insane urge to just ask Sebastian outright if he's ever cooked a human leg before.
And of course, he immediately misses Hannibal fiercely, like a sucking chest wound. Because that's just how his brain works now.
He coughs lightly and rubs his face, trying to use the time to cover his inconvenient emotions. ]
Excuse me. That is useful. I would appreciate some chicken soup, the next time it's on the menu.
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Is there something wrong with Sebastian working in the kitche--]
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Has Sebastian's appalling behaviour made him unfit to work in the kitchens in the eyes of this person? Understandable, of course, and no more than Sebastian deserves... but all the same, that is unacceptable.]
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Well. I see no reason the kitchens could not provide some for the next meal. [Which Sebastian technically isn't scheduled to work today.]
I could bring you some in an hour's time.
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Well, don't change anything up on my behalf. I really am okay at the moment. It just sounded good.
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Many others on board will likely appreciate some lighter fare, besides.
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[And Sebastian's a demon. He's seen his share of death.]
I shall contact you again within an hour, then.
[And now, while Sebastian's Chicken Soup Mission perhaps ends up slightly derailed because of Cat Reasons, he does arrive within the agreed-upon-time, because of course he does. Knocking on Will's door.]
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A few tired blinks right the world again, thankfully. He smiles, a spark of interest in his eyes. ]
Hello, Sebastian. Thank you for coming. Come on in.
[ Will moves away from the door so Sebastian can enter. Will's cabin is the interior of an old cabin in the woods, cozy but rundown, with fishing poles hung up on the wall with basic hooks. A smallish brown dog lays in one of the various old dog beds strewn across the floor and looks at the demon with interest, but he doesn't get up. ]
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...It's only once he takes that first step inside that he remembers he had planned on just being the delivery man, not on any further interaction. The invitation, and the acceptance of it, still feels so familiar.
Sebastian's no quitter, however, and doesn't stumble when continuing the conversation:] I would express some hope that you are feeling better by now, but it is my understanding that these effects will last for days.
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They do, but they're fading. I'll probably be back to full health in another few days.
The memories are supposed to fade, as well. But in my case, I don't think I'll be that lucky. You might be stuck with me as a friend for a while.
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Mm, you did mention I remind you of a friend from home, yes? [This is what humans do, after all - latch on to familiar things. Sebastian knew about Will's uncanny empathy in that other life, of course, but he doesn't default to assuming it carries over between lives. Humans being bad at compartmentalising seems more plausible.]
I do not mind you retaining those feelings, yet... I should perhaps clarify I believe myself to be fairly different from how I was in "that life".
[Fair warning? He won't mind hanging out, though - he's been assigned by his current warden to socialise with people he finds tolerable. Will, at least in that alternative life, definitely was tolerable.]
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I figured. In fact, I'm kind of counting on it.
[ He sits on his couch, and gestures to the (slightly less ratty) armchair, offering it as a seat to Sebastian. ]
My condition is a lot stronger in this life, too- to the point where it's classified as a condition, or empathy disorder. It fascinated my friend to no end. His name was Hannibal Lecter, and he was human, technically. He loved cooking and hated rudeness. Whenever he had the chance, he'd put rude people into his cooking.
[ Will takes a deep, thoughtful breath, and laces his fingers together. ] ...I miss him very much.
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My condolences. Missing important people is something many here have in common.
[It's not said with deep emotion, but not entirely spoken like an empty politeness, either. 'His name was,' in the past tense. Dead or lost touch, then. More importantly: clarifying that he was human. That he'd eat people.
Sebastian isn't entirely prepared to announce to the world, as it were, his being non-human (futile as that is proving to be. Several people have already told him they know). So, rather than addressing that implication...]
I should also, perhaps unnecessarily, clarify that whatever proclivities you knew me for before do not extend to the present. [A small gesture to the chicken soup,] Should that be a concern.
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He breaks into a chuckle at Sebastian's clarification. ]
It's not, honestly. I have eaten many meals with Hannibal. And if we both hadn't died, I probably would've eaten many more. I don't concern myself with the ingredients any longer. But thank you, for the consideration.
Are you missing someone important here, as well?
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Humans truly are even worse than demons.]
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And then the urge to clarify that were he ever to serve human remains, he would make sure they were of quality. That, if anything, is something anyone should be concerned about, cannibal or not.
(This suppressing only takes a moment, and might very well just look like he's composing himself from the initial surprise.)
Anyway. Food Priorities aside...]
I am. Considering our likely differing worlds, I am unsure if you would recognise me as a butler? [His master, that's who he's missing, is the implication.]
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A butler. Yes, of course. You don't have your...employer? Your lord? I'm not sure what term you'd use. But they're not here, either.
[ And he's not sure what Sebastian is playing at with being a butler, but he is pretty sure there's some amount of 'playing' happening there. Not that he's going to ask about it. ]
That's too bad. I imagine that would make a butler feel very aimless.
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I would not have the young master arrive here under any circumstances. ["Too bad" nothing.]
I would return the gesture of comparing you to him, but I fear there are far fewer common points between the two of you than between Mr Lecter and I. The young master is very particular about what goes into his food, and he is not very empathetic.
[Both his young master and Will do smell very delectable, very sweetly of misery... but that isn't something you say out loud in polite conversation.]
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As the butler continues onto differences, Will smirks a little. ]
And I'm not exactly young, either. But I'm not really surprised- I suspect anyone who'd catch the eye of someone like you would have to be a very unique sort of individual. Can I ask his name?
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He does smile slightly upon being called remarkable. He is amazing, it's true.]
He is the earl Ciel Phantomhive. [Slightly changing the meaning of what was asked, because, well... identity is a complicated matter where the young master is concerned.] And he is indeed unique in many ways.
Now, I am not implying that you yourself do not possess your own unique points. That level of empathy certainly is not commonplace, as far as I am aware.
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I've been told it's unique, as well. I said it was a condition, but the truth is...they didn't know what to classify it as. Here, it's been likened to seeing visions.
[ He shakes his head, and then runs a hand back through his hair. ]
I don't think it's that accurate. Just my brain handing me deductions in metaphor.
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I imagine it must be bothersome to live with. From an outsider perspective, however, the idea of experiencing life that way sounds rather beautiful.
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It...can be. Yes.
[ He can feel the slide of blood and fabric under his hands, the warmth of the hand on his back, holding him up. He shuts his eyes, briefly, and settles his thoughts. ]
Most people aren't able to see that. I spent most of my life wallowing in the pain it caused instead of...working with it. My way.
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