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 With every day that passes, he feels more and more withdrawn, and so, when he can, Kevin escapes.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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...he thinks. He hopes. Probably he's just cursed himself to another nasty bout of influenza, but at least that's not rabies. If nothing else, though, he does radiate heat like a furnace, something Lacie will likely notice in short order. Probably he kills a lot of harmful pathogens just by existing.
In any case, cutting in on his roaming of back alleys like this is rude.
"Are you thinking I'm going to eat a unicorn? I don't know that I want to eat a unicorn."
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Lacie blinks as that heat starts to seep in through her skin. She doens't, however let go. Even if the weather won't get him, determined to be as rude as it takes to get his mind on something else (even if it's only on her being rude).
"I was going to bake a chicken. We don't keep enough unicorns to eat them all the time! Just for special occasions."
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He means this to dissuade her from making him come to dinner, an implication that he could eat her out of house and home. Most likely, though, it will backfire, and convince her that there is no possible way he is feeding himself enough if he's got an appetite like that, and therefore he needs to be cared for. Can't win with Lacie.
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Kevin is family, after all, in so far as any Baskerville is really family. For once, he's family that she actually cares to look after.
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Most importantly, he just doesn't have the heart right now to fight her over it.
Obviously the best solution here is to just go home with her, and slip out while Asshole distracts her doing Asshole things. So he follows her at last, though he makes it clear that he's going to go at his own pace, and he tries to tug back his arm.
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Even before they've made it up the front walk, there's an excited barking, Beastie knowing his beloved girl-human is home. With its fresh repairs, the house is the best-looking one on the otherwise-dilapidated street. The porch even has stairs, now.
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This is undesirable, and the knight loses heart with efficient speed. He doesn't want anybody. He just wants Glen.
But there's no backing out now; he can't think of any excuses quickly enough, though he wracks his brain for something feasible. He'll just have to hope that Asshole isn't in the mood for anybody but Lacie, and shoos him out quickly. He'd been reasonable enough on Kevin's territory, but now Kevin is on his, and he doesn't even think to question the wolf part of him that fully expects the other man to be on his guard.
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Lacie snorts, and leans to call into the house for her Kevin to hear.
"I've brought home another live one! This one stays, at least for dinner."
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If it were anyone else, he'd be belligerent. If the other Kevin were in any other mood, this one wouldn't want him around. But he clearly isn't up to fighting, and Kevin knows that Lacie is well aware that the Kevins don't tend to mix when left to their own devices. She wouldn't have brought him home if she didn't feel strongly that he needs to be taken care of tonight.
"...close enough," he relents, retreating to the kitchen. Beastie follows along at his heels, giving an obvious preference to the proper boy human, whose growls are weenie and meaningless.
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"Come on," she says to him, nodding toward the kitchen and following her Kevin and the puppy. Once she catches up, she murmurs two words into her Kevin's ear, knowing they'll explain as much as needs explained.
"Oswald's gone."
She turns back toward their guest.
"What do you want with the chicken?"
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"I'll eat anything," he answers absently, lurking by the wall instead of moving to sit at the table. "...except rabbits."
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"Well, no rabbits, it is."
She turns to her Kevin, looping an arm through his. Between the two of them Beasty worms his way in to plop himself down so that he's effectively sitting on Lacie's feet and leaning against Kevin's leg's. The werewolf's presence has unnerved him a bit.
"What do you want, then?"
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Slipping away while Beastie tries to twist around and nip not-so-sultrily at Kevin's toes, Lacie proceeds to get to work. A pair of chickens are transported from the ice box to thaw, and she starts to pull out the necessary pots and pans.
"Rice it is!"
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It doesn't escape him that they have essentially switched places. When Kevin was recovering from his death at the Baskerville farm, it was the two-eyed one who was at ease and comfortable, carrying about his business while this one remained quietly off to the side. Now, the other Kevin is on his territory, and is reacting much the same way. It's a little annoying to understand so well, but precisely because he understands, he knows that the other one is being respectful, in his own way. And he must be thinking much the same things, and wishing he could escape.
Well. The resident Kevin doesn't particularly favor the idea of the other one casting his gloom about the place. In a rare stroke of kindness, he says abruptly, "We've books in the sitting room. Down the hall." Sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, the knight takes the opportunity to escape and slips down the corridor.
Clyde the dead stuffed peacock is in the sitting room, too, as it happens, since it's one of the only rooms that's been completely fixed up as of yet. So there is that.
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So, she cooks quietly, and plots. What can they do, to distract him? Food--even if she is a good cook--will only do so much. This calls for something drastic. Something...
An idea dawned.
"... Do you remember what we talked about, last All Hallows?"
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Yes, he remembers. The dubious but thoughtful look on his face gives him away.
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"Well, what do you think? He could probably use it."
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He falls silent for a moment, considering. Beastie tries to get a hold of his hand, and the swordsman sweeps the wriggling little dog up into a hold that totally isn't a cuddle.
"...better feed him first," he concludes.
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"He might be surprised to find that he wants what he thinks he doesn't." She reaches up, fingers entwining sensually in his hair. "You didn't think you wanted all of this, at first."
(After all, she hadn't either, at least not consciously.)
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It's true. Kevin had known he was throwing his life away when he made that Contract, but his desire to have his family restored even if he never got to see it had been enough. Even before he'd known just how badly he'd failed, the completion of his task had left him negligently suicidal, placing no real value in his own life and having no plans to move forward. Sooner or later he'd have found some fight to get into, no doubt; stopped bothering to eat or sleep and just let himself go. It's still only Lacie that keeps him from doing that.
The swordsman reaches out, wrapping her hair around his own fingers.
"He knows exactly what he wants. And it isn't here."
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"Just not the kind you get, alone."
Turning, she goes to stir the rice.
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"You have a dead peacock in your library," he observes.
"That's Clyde," answers his one-eyed counterpart, calmly. "I killed him because he was the prettiest peacock of all."
The knight opens his mouth, finds he has no way to argue with this logic, and shuts it again. The dog is glaring at him from his almost-twin's arms, as though he is infringing upon cuddle time simply by existing in the same room. Obviously the library is safer, dead peacock notwithstanding. He retreats, intending to go back there until dinner is ready.
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"Go to the stairway and look up!" she calls after him. "Then you can meet Asshole Bob!"
Perhaps they can tell the story of how Asshole Bob got his hat--or, rather, what happened to the man who'd owned it, first. This thought puts a small, faintly demented smile on her lips straight through to setting the table.
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Depression notwithstanding, he eats well at dinner, even if he sort of keeps to his own little corner of the table. These two have been around him at dinnertime before, having stayed with the Baskervilles on the farm and all. So they're well aware of Kevin's wolfish manners, left over from his injury, when he hadn't had a reason to be proper at the table and had made habits for himself that still stick with him. Even so, he's a guest in their house now, so he politely tones it down. He sits properly in his chair and doesn't curl up in it, uses the silverware, and paces himself such that he finishes eating around the same time they do -- even if he polishes off a whole chicken on his own and he's the reason there isn't going to be any leftover rice this time.
As the meal draws to a close, though, he plucks at his napkin and wonders how he's going to get out of here. Thanking them for the meal is in order, and showing gratitude is dangerous where Lacies are concerned. Plus, he's not sure what excuse he can use to leave and actually get away with. The both of them will see right through him, and Lacie in particular would probably spot it a mile away if he made himself out to have duties in her brother's absence that better suit others in the house. No errands to run this late, other people to watch the Brat, no one who would mind his being out late...hn.
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And now all I can think of is that one t-shirt...
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