Kevin Regnard (
fallingbackup) wrote2014-02-04 02:02 pm
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The time of our great undoing
When Kevin woke up alone for the first time in months, he knew almost immediately that Glen was gone. If he were still human, he'd have looked everywhere for the man until he'd at least tracked down one of his Chains, and gotten confirmation from them that he was no longer in the world with them. But as it was, he could smell that the very spot he was laying on was the spot where Glen's trail had gone cold. The duke had vanished from the bed they shared as the knight slept.
That was well over a week ago now and in his head, Kevin's been lost ever since. He's done the best he can to take over Glen's duties around the house, and the Jabberwock, for whatever reason, has let him do it. But no matter how he tells himself that he's only minding things until Glen returns, and that he will, the atmosphere in the house rankles against him. Young Gilbert doesn't accept him -- not like this. The little Lacie pities him for the depth of his sadness; Lottie scoffs at him for thinking he can even attempt to fill Glen's shoes, even if he knows perfectly well he's only providing a poor substitute. With every day that passes, he feels more and more withdrawn, and so, when he can, Kevin escapes. He can be found wandering the city, now and again, letting the noise of it drown out his own thoughts. Or he can be found patrolling the fences around the farmlands as usual, perhaps in the hopes that the familiar solitude of it will help keep him in his right mind. But the truth is that Kevin hasn't felt this out of place and unsettled in at least a year, since he'd come to live in Glen's house in the first place. He'd thought he was home at last, that he'd found a new family and even a little peace. Now, it seems that all of that peace was in Glen all along, and Kevin has no idea when or if the duke will return.
But the most upsetting part of it all is what he does know. If Glen has really gone home, he's no doubt living through the Tragedy. Right now, somewhere, Kevin's Oswald is staring at the man who's broken his heart, there are swords raised between them, and the duke is maybe just realizing that he's going to die on that blade because Jack Vessalius never did love him enough.
And Kevin can't do anything about it.
That was well over a week ago now and in his head, Kevin's been lost ever since. He's done the best he can to take over Glen's duties around the house, and the Jabberwock, for whatever reason, has let him do it. But no matter how he tells himself that he's only minding things until Glen returns, and that he will, the atmosphere in the house rankles against him. Young Gilbert doesn't accept him -- not like this. The little Lacie pities him for the depth of his sadness; Lottie scoffs at him for thinking he can even attempt to fill Glen's shoes, even if he knows perfectly well he's only providing a poor substitute. With every day that passes, he feels more and more withdrawn, and so, when he can, Kevin escapes. He can be found wandering the city, now and again, letting the noise of it drown out his own thoughts. Or he can be found patrolling the fences around the farmlands as usual, perhaps in the hopes that the familiar solitude of it will help keep him in his right mind. But the truth is that Kevin hasn't felt this out of place and unsettled in at least a year, since he'd come to live in Glen's house in the first place. He'd thought he was home at last, that he'd found a new family and even a little peace. Now, it seems that all of that peace was in Glen all along, and Kevin has no idea when or if the duke will return.
But the most upsetting part of it all is what he does know. If Glen has really gone home, he's no doubt living through the Tragedy. Right now, somewhere, Kevin's Oswald is staring at the man who's broken his heart, there are swords raised between them, and the duke is maybe just realizing that he's going to die on that blade because Jack Vessalius never did love him enough.
And Kevin can't do anything about it.
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The word is out of his mouth before he remembers the strange creatures that he'd encountered the first time they'd come here, the things that he'd at first mistaken for Chains. He shakes his head and corrects himself.
"Those things are still here?"
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As they begin to draw away from the farmhouse, enough so that it isn't directly in their line of sight anymore, Kevin lifts his arm to point out a giant castle that sits upon the lands far behind it. The light shines on it in a way that glints and slides, as though the structure was made of ice or glass.
"Elsa lives there," Kevin says. "She can control snow and ice. She built that castle. But she's quiet and shy and I think she scares herself. The werewolf who turned the Brat and me is here too, but I still haven't even spoken to him. People make him nervous, so he keeps to himself." His arm drops again, and the knight shrugs. "It seems like a lot of the dangerous things here are really only that terrible by accident."
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"So it's a lot like that other place, still," he answers. "What about the Will of the Mansion? Has anyone seen her yet?"
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Kevin has been sociable since he's been here, it seems. Or maybe everything he's saying now has just been stored up for ages and now he'll resume grunting at his patrol buddy for the next month or so.
"She seems a lot less nasty than the Will of the Mansion. Even the Will of the Abyss is nicer here."
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"But this world isn't connected to the Abyss either?"
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The fence comes to an end, and Kevin turns them down a proper road. It certainly still has plenty of snow on it, but it's been packed down, used enough since the last snowfall that its boundaries are obvious. Those who live on the farm and past it walk here frequently.
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So some people had come here directly rather than getting trapped in the other world first. That's interesting; they'd always assumed that the other world had to have been directly connected through the Abyss somehow, even though they'd never been able to find a proper way to step into it. This world is even further detached from their own, bringing in people from even more different places.
He sighs as they start down the next road, but the packed snow presents a new type of obstacle that he isn't prepared for. Only three steps onto it and he slips. His one arm raises immediately to help him regain his balance, but without the other arm to help, he only succeeds in tipping himself over even worse. Unless Kevin is quick, he'll find himself tumbling back onto his rear. At least that's slightly better than his face.
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"Try putting one foot in front of the other when you walk," he murmurs quietly. Break's voice as always, but there's no authority in it; it's a suggestion. "With your weight on your toes first, instead of your heels. And -- lean back a little, when we're going down hills like this."
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"Sorry," he mutters. "I'm not used to it yet."
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Possibly this explains a couple things about that Kevin. And Break in a foul temper.
"Anyway, Lottie says it's easier to keep your balance by stepping that way. It moves your center up or something. She wears ridiculous shoes, so I suppose she would know."
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"Lottie..." he mutters to himself. Another name that he recognizes fully now that he has his memories back.
"She lives there, too?"
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Kevin is distracted and depressed, but he's still clever enough. Most of what Kevin knows of future shenanigans comes secondhand from people in the past -- he really doesn't even know the whole deal with Oz and Gilbert and he's never even laid eye on a Leo. So, even though he's well aware that the Abyss occasionally eats people and spits them back out again, he doesn't know whether Gilbert would have crossed paths with Charlotte Baskerville once that had happened.
He does, however, know that Lottie was around when Gilbert was a little boy. He glances up.
"You know Lottie?"
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He shakes his head, considers the best way to explain it.
"I...ah, I remembered her, and Glen. What happened back then, one hundred years ago."
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"...you remembered? You know the truth now?"
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"I remembered everything."
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This is what has always bothered the knight the most -- this feeling of being in between two people he cares for, and knowing there was enough negativity between them to bring about violence. It's been a sad, confusing thing to know, when every single day living with Glen Baskerville showed him the deep bond between the duke and the young Gilbert. Kevin has known the disconnect between Glen and the elder Gilbert must hurt him, but he's never been sure quite what it meant on Gilbert's end.
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He finally answers, eyes still averted to the ground. Though he'd taken over his new vessel and raised a sword to his young master, Gilbert can't say that he feels hatred for the man that he once respected and loved so much. Part of him might even understand, in a way that only Glen Baskerville can, the desperation in his actions. No, hatred wasn't the way to explain it at all.
"But I couldn't follow him either."
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He doesn't know, of course, just what has transpired between them lately at home, or how Glen is going to change in the century between his death and his unsealing. But the Glen he knows here, the one Kevin has come to love and respect just as much -- that Glen will be happy, he knows. The tiny Gilbert is as much a son to Glen as the tiny Lacie is a daughter to Kevin, now. He can't imagine how it would hurt if the girl turned on him like that.
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Kevin's emotions show on his face in a way that Break's don't, and no matter how long he's known the man (and is slowly re-remembering those times spent with him) the comparison is still there every time he looks into Kevin's face. He doesn't ask the question of "are you okay?" out loud, but his expression says it for him.
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They should keep going. It's cold out. Instead, Kevin stands with his head bowed, letting his hair hide his face for the most part. The wind plucks at them, quietly.
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Gilbert remembers it all now. He remembers Jack's face, tears on his cheeks as he'd sliced through the boy's back with his blade. He remembers Glen's - his master's - voice calling out for him to stay away. He remembers the fear in his heart as he'd darted out from his hiding spot to stand between then and beg them to stop. He'd only wanted everyone to be safe; there was no way to understand what had been happening at the time. Jack had been a good friend, a safe person who made Gilbert forget his troubles with a single smile.
They'd all been deceived.
So then Oswald would return with a new name, new title, and minus a head. If this world was kind it would return it to him in a different way than it had given Knave. After another gust of wind toys with his empty sleeve, Gilbert steps forward, wraps his arm around Kevin's shoulders (for comfort, but also for balance) and pushes him forward.
"Let's get inside. You'll catch a cold in this weather."
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Gilbert will also be able to feel now that Kevin radiates heat like a furnace. Staying close to him is probably the most comfortable option, actually.
"I don't think wolves can catch colds," he grumbles. But he starts off again, walking easily over the snow even with another person attached to him. It won't be long before the city itself is in sight. The farmhouse is only just far away enough to stand solitary.
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"Oh. Right, that's..." He doesn't let go. The man is warm and the wind is cold and really he's too surprised to push him away.
"So it's still like that, huh...?"
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He's stronger. He can hear better, eavesdrop; he can sniff people out if he needs to. He heals at a much faster rate now. It's been a comfort, actually -- something that makes him feel a little more like he belongs in a house where every other person who lives in it is not quite human, either.
"And...kinda fun, I guess." He's a little embarrassed about the hat, yes, but is he sorry about it? Nope.
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It had worn off though, whereas Kevin is changed permanently. That is something that he can't quite fully understand. Though, he supposes, part of him isn't human either. The part that could withstand burning off his arm and walk it off a few minutes later.
"Have you learned how to control it?"
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