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Everything I do, I do it casually. Casual are the things that I do. I post sketches and drabbles here, along with personal things and issues I'm passionate about. There's probably a lot of anime and whatever shows I'm currently drooling over, as well.

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Butterfly Kisses — A quick drabble [ClaudexAlois]

Claude would call them formalities, the small pecks he leaves on his master’s head after tucking the boy in diligently. It is simply part of his job; another routine he obeys religiously, like everything else in his day. They mark the end of a charade to him, the removal of his mask after the candles are snuffed out to reveal the fiend beneath it. He will roam the halls of the manor in silence until morning, expressionless and formal. If he is to be called a fiend, he is a quiet and orderly one.

This too has become routine for him; walking the same hallways and patrolling the grounds in the same way each night. Windows he had once leered out of into the darkness he now simply glances through to ensure the security of his territory. Candlesticks he had once covered subtly with webbing he now brushes with a finger to check for dust – yes, once again, Hannah has neglected this one.

It is simply routine, simply habit. Shortly, he will abandon it, and take to the shadows once more with his silent laughter and devil’s dance.

Alois would call them butterfly kisses, the tiny gestures of affection Claude bestows upon him after concluding his most important duties. It is completely unnecessary; an extravagant element to the role of a butler that has been added to supplement Alois’s desire for affection. They mark his loyalty, his attentiveness to each and every of the earl’s whims. In the morning, his butler will wake him with the same unshakeable calm and poise, caring and efficient. If he is to be called a butler, he is an unorthodox and inappropriate one.

This too has become routine for him; giving the same reassurances and holding the boy at each sign of weakness. Dissatisfied expressions he might have ignored he hurries to rectify. Tears he might have distained he jumps to wipe away – yes, Claude is quite thorough in his care.

It is more than a routine, more than a habit. It will continue, for as long as Alois is alive, with his bright blue eyes and his unseemly laughter.

Claude sits, now, looking down at the bloodied shell of his master. It was simply a routine, but before he stands, he leaves the smallest of butterfly kisses atop the mass of blond waves.