Horologe ⚚ [Maximum Ride/Black Butler]

Chapter II

Thank you all for the reviews! x3
And I sincerely apologize for the hiatus, but I'm up & runnin again for this fic so HORRAY! ^u^

Note: I don't own Maximum Ride or Black Butler. I don't own a cat either lol. ;3;

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Sebastian then turned to Pluto, who silenced immediately after he removed the strange girl from the ground. "Good boy," he said with a faint smile, before turning and heading back inside, carrying the limp girl in his arms.

He had a feeling that it was going to get a whole lot more interesting from here on.

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General POV

Sebastian's long slender fingers curled into a ball, the man's free hand knocking thrice upon the door to Ciel Phantomhive's study. A monotone voice answered almost immediately.

"Come in."

The demon butler promptly entered, cradling the injured girl in his arms. He glanced at his young master.

"I have found the cause for Pluto's barking, my lord," Sebastian told him, nodding towards the blood-covered girl. "It is because of this girl here, who was strewn across the front of your manor in a most unsightly fashion."

The boy's visible eye scanned the stranger, his expression unreadable. He turned to his butler. "...See to it that our little...guest gets fixed up, Sebastian. I can't have someone dressed so filthily, like an urchin, sleeping in my household. It soils the Phantomhive name."

Sebastian glanced at the boy, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "Anything else, young master?"

Ciel nodded curtly. "Yes. Since this girl is obviously unable to submit to questioning in her state, bring her to my study tomorrow morning after she has awoken. I intend to get some answers from her about this little...incident," he stated, lips fixed in a slightly irritated scowl. "Collapsing onto one's doorstep, completely uninvited... how inconsiderate."

"Of course, my lord."

Sebastian gave a formative bow in response and swiftly turned on his heel, fully intent on carrying out the other's requests.

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Max's POV

My eyes snapped open, and I yanked my body upright. A million questions whizzed through my head as I scanned my surroundings, my very-much-alert eyes darting around the room.

First off, where the hell was I-?! I don't remember drifting off to sleep in this Victorian-style bedroom, tucked away under a ridiculous amount of blankets. I don't even remember drifting off to sleep in the first place.

I ripped off the schmancy quilts, leaped off the bed, and speed-walked across the room. I was officially in panic mode.

Reaching for the doorknob, I was about to exit, when I unintentionally passed by a mirror, a tall one bordered by fancily-carved wood. What I saw inside was not at all shocking.

Oh no, it was freaking terrifying.

There, staring back at me, was a girl wearing a long, frilly nightmare, and had clean - yes folks, clean - blondish brown hair.

Someone must have undressed me from the hospital gown I was wearing earlier on. And that same someone must have given me a bath too.

I can't even say the obscenities I'm thinking right now, or I'm afraid I might permanently scar the faint-at-heart here.

Going to a nearby wardrobe, I hurriedly threw open the doors, mentally sighing in relief that there was some proper clothes in there. I mean, it was kinda obvious that you couldn't fight in a nightdress. Actually, you can't fight in a dress, period. Floofy things are so darn restricting.

I hurriedly threw the offensive thing off and changed into a pair of these weird, old fashioned shorts instead, taking out a scruffy long-sleeved shirt as well. They looked to be boys' clothes, but frankly, I didn't give one.

Snapping a hook off of a coatrack, I promptly used it to rip slits in the back of the shirt so that my wings could go through. I pressed said wings flat against my back, and pulled the shirt over me, and then proceeded to storm out of the room. Because, oh boy, I was so gonna unleash a can of whoop-ass when I find whoever did this to me.

I was still somewhat injured from my little battle with Erasers earlier, but my wounds were already starting to heal, so I'm sure I would be fine. Plus, when has an injury ever stopped me from taking part in a fight? Exactly.

Bare feet stomping down the wooden halls, my dark eyes were already narrowed in their signature, Max-exclusive glare.

But, not so much had I turned a corner, I slammed into an (albeit somewhat curvaceous) figure, and knocked said figure to the ground. Turns out it was some lady dressed in this form-fitting maid dress- a horribly ridiculous outfit, I gotta admit. She wore huge circular glasses and had a shock of magenta hair, and was flustering like no tomorrow.

"S-so sorry, miss!" she shrilled, voice thick with an obnoxiously-harsh British accent.

I decided against pointing out the fact that I was the one who bumped into her, not the other way around; I was just so not in the mood.

Instead, I chose to do things the more aggressive way- something more in my area of expertise - and roughly grabbed the front of her collar. Not even bothering to be gentle, I yanked her off the ground and darkly hissed into her ear.

"Where the hell am I."

She seemed to get even more stressed out than before, "Ehm, y-you're actually not supposed to be out of your room-"

"I'll ask you again," My voice was low and dangerous. "Where the hell am I." My fingers gripped her collar tighter, and I slammed her against the wall, leaning in to add a little extra threatening pizzazz. Well, not really, I was just incredibly pissed off, and her submissive attitude pissed me off more.

"Young miss, I'm going to have to ask you to release the maid, please."