fallingbackup | The time of our great undoing

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[fabulae_victoriana]

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 With every day that passes, he feels more and more withdrawn, and so, when he can, Kevin escapes.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.

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He'd have pulled away, once, like any other Kevin, or Break. But this one has changed drastically since Gilbert saw him last, and now, he leans into the touch -- not enough to send Gilbert stumbling, but he'll certainly be able to feel it when Kevin takes a deep breath and lets it out in a shudder.

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.

As soon as he feels the warmth of Kevin's body, the first logical answer is that he's already got a fever, but then with his answer comes the rush of memories of chasing a white wolf across the mansion grounds and attempting to prepare a decent meal for the poor thing. While also forgiving him for stealing his hat.

"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...?"

"Mm. It's useful."

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.

He recalls, briefly, the few days that he was turned into a frog, and the midnight swim that had come afterwards. He'd thought the same thing to himself, hadn't he? That even though he'd been frustrated (and thrown out windows) at the time, that later the fleeting thought of "but that part was fun" had drifted through his brain a couple of times.

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?"

"I change every last quarter moon," the knight says with a slight shrug. "I guess the timing gets handed down, so you can build a pack that way."

He accepts the change of subject gladly, happy to be talking about something else. Still more taciturn than not, Kevin has at least come to value words as a way to chase away uncomfortable silences, now that Glen has taught him what the nice ones are like.

"Mostly everyone else has learned to deal with it. The house is full of Chains as it is; a couple of wolves isn't that weird."

Well, that's one way to more easily accept it.

"It would make patrolling easier," he mutters thoughtfully under his breath.

That actually gets a little smile out of the knight.

"I hunt for Raven every month now," he says, a touch pridefully. "At Yule, I caught a turkey that was bigger than Bittybert. We had it for dinner the next day."

And then he nearly chokes.

"T-that's what you call him?!"

Poor tiny Gilbert.

"...well. He's." Kevin makes a gesture to indicate really short, and then stares up innocently at the clouds in the sky. "You're Bigbert."

They have to differentiate between them somehow, okay.

"Just call both of us Gilbert!"

This feels more like what their relationship is supposed to be, Gilbert thinks.

"But you're two radically different people," Kevin says reasonably. His mouth might be twitching a little; it seems he's learned to tease people, too. "You might as well call the Breaks Kevin."

Nevermind that what this really means is that the Baskervilles have enough occasion to talk about Gilbert behind his back that they've found it necessary to dub him "Bigbert" in the first place. La.

"We never changed our name!"

And dropping the last name in favor of an adopted name doesn't count. Technically he hadn't done it on purpose. And thankfully it goes right over his head that this nickname has become common enough that they've integrated it into their vocabulary.

"What about Funny-Talking Break, then? Shouldn't he just be Break?"

Kevin has him here and he knows it.

"I call him Break."

Though at its worst, Gilbert had numbered them all. In the back of his mind he still recalls the differences between Break #1, Break #2 and all the rest of them. After a while the numbers stopped meaning anything. Kevin's naming scheme really does make more sense, but.

"But then if he was," continues Kevin, quite as though Gilbert hadn't spoken at all, "it would be impossible to tell him apart from Regular Break, when you were talking about a Break to someone else. So they wouldn't know if you meant the one with the long hair who talks funny and is usually following your kids around, or the one with the short hair who pretty much never leaves Lady Shelly's room."

A pause.

"And that Break is different from the one who looked just like him who punched me in the face the second he realized who I was. So I suppose Regular Break would be Shelly's Break and the other one would be Violent Break."

"My head is starting to hurt..."

He doesn't mean this as a joke; remembering all of these people at all different times rushing in all at once (all with new nicknames apparently) might be a little too much for right now.

"-- we'll be there soon."

They're at the edge of town now, and it's not a far walk from there. The roads are paved here, well tended to in the midst of the weather, and it becomes easier to walk as they set foot within the limits of Nusquamton. Even so, Kevin makes no move to pull away from Gil's arm around his shoulders. There is no one else he can simply scoot up to the way he can with Glen, and the lack of touch over this past week has been getting to him. He feels a little more grounded now, for having Gilbert at his side.

Though the snow is proving to make things more difficult to navigate until they hit cleared road, Gilbert also laments on the fact that it's making it easier to feel like he hadn't left. Things have changed - nearly everything has changed - but at least the seasons were the same before and after the rain.

Kevin doesn't move away from him, so he continues to use the man to keep himself up on his feet. The city, though slightly familiar, is easier to watch from all angles if he has someone to lean on while he moves his head this way and that, taking it all in.

In his own way, now that they're in town and surrounded by people, Kevin is doing much the same. The difference is that he's listening and smelling, and he occasionally tilts his head a little to do so. It almost looks like he's listening to a voice in his head or having a silent conversation with himself, rather than paying attention to where he's going; but both senses are stronger than his eyes now.

Nusquamton seems, at first glance, to be a perfectly reasonable city. The standard storefronts exist, the roads are clean and tidy, most everyone is clad in the customary fashions. If they pass a metal person walking by and puffing a bit of steam as they go, or Kevin waves in acknowledgement at a red fox who is sitting on one of the town statues, well. When you think about it, it really isn't any weirder than the fact that Gilbert's current crutch is a werewolf version of his boss, and that both Break and Gilbert traveled through time in order to meet. It's just a different sort of weird.

A different sort of weird, and one that is taking his tired, overworked brain a while to sort it all out properly. He recalls the people made of metal, the strange creatures and bizarre, mismatched streets. It makes him a little uncomfortable to think that he'll be forced to stay here rather than the familiar halls and streets of that other world, but at least this place isn't too far out of the realms of his understanding. There's a bakery and cafe and a butcher, places to buy clothing. He glances down at his swinging sleeve as they walk, but even something like this doesn't feel out of place compared to the rest of the people wandering the sidewalks.

It's good that he has Kevin there to guide him, otherwise he'd probably be walking into streetlamps or falling off of curbs as he keeps his eyes darting across the street and back again over his head to the closer signs.

The boarding house, when they reach it, is a perfectly reasonable looking bed and breakfast sort of a thing with a white picket fence surrounding it. The snow in the yard shows signs of having been played in, and no one passing by gives the place a second glance. It's smaller than the mansion was, and cozier, but as Gilbert will soon discover, it's bigger on the inside.

Kevin doesn't hesitate to walk right up to the door and barge inside, politely tapping the snow from his shoes before he steps inside. He lifts his head in the hallway, this time sniffing openly.

Gilbert follows, tapping his shoes off as well and shaking out his jacket before stepping inside. He turns towards Kevin to ask a question, but he's caught off guard by...whatever the man is doing. This is going to take some getting used to.

"What is it?"

"I haven't tracked down where Gilbertine's room is yet," the knight explains. "The funny-talking Break often sits in the common areas, though. I bet I could find him for you."

That Break passed by recently, in fact, on his way from the closest sitting room to somewhere else.

"N-no, I can go find them myself-!"

He knows that Kevin is used to doing this, but asking him to sniff out his friends feels like asking for too much. His hand reaches back up to grasp his shoulder.

By this time, Kevin is far more accustomed to the little Gilbert, and the boy's tendency to flap his hands at the idea of receiving help when he himself is capable even if it would make things easier for him. After a lot of dubious head tilting and private contemplation, Kevin has concluded that he just doesn't want to impose on people too much. An admirable quality, to be sure, and one which Kevin now ignores at his leisure.

This being the case, he says, "It'll only take a minute," and starts off down the hallway.

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