widowed heroine (
retraced) wrote in
sirenspull_logs2012-05-13 09:40 am
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Entry tags:
there was nothing to be done
Who: Gilbert Nightray and Oz Vessalius
When: The morning of the 13th
Where: The newcomer memorial
Summary: It's time for master and servant to learn how to grieve.
Warnings: Talk of death, spoilers for PH.
First it was Alice. She hadn't come down for breakfast that morning, hadn't shown her face for the rest of the day. Her NV had been disconnected. A search of the house and surrounding areas turned up nothing, calls to the hospital and morgue had been fruitless. When all else failed, a call had been placed to Break - the man might cause trouble, but he also has an uncanny knack of being able to know when things happen around here.
Except that his NV had also been disconnected.
With Luca and Madame Red gone as well, Gilbert hadn't allowed his grief to show on his face. There's no reason that the atmosphere of the house should be brought down by his sorrow when everyone else was grieving their own losses as well. But then Rochelle disappeared as well. Her boyfriend, Nick also seemed to be unreachable. Gilbert had dropped a tray of frosted cupcakes to the ground upon hearing the news, too overcome with still-repressed grief to be able to keep his hands still. He still hadn't recovered when, upon bringing a new pet mouse home from his brother, he discovered that Vincent, too, had disappeared from Siren's Port.
Loss is accompanied by pain, but the realization that things are left so incomplete and unsaid and unresolved is accompanied by numbness.
It's that numbness that still resides in Gilbert's heart as he calls upon his young master this morning. The weather is finally turning nice, it's a good day to talk a long walk and talk about all the things that they have so far left unsaid. But as they walk through the busy weekend-streets, Gil can't bring himself to say a single word. His lips part every once in a while, only to close again before he can even clear his throat.
I can't cry. I can't say a thing. How can I burden Oz's fragile heart with my own personal pain?
Only a hideous person would ask such a small body to carry that type of heavy thought.
So he walks silently beside his master, at the place where he belongs, and says nothing.
The newcomer memorial isn't far.
When: The morning of the 13th
Where: The newcomer memorial
Summary: It's time for master and servant to learn how to grieve.
Warnings: Talk of death, spoilers for PH.
First it was Alice. She hadn't come down for breakfast that morning, hadn't shown her face for the rest of the day. Her NV had been disconnected. A search of the house and surrounding areas turned up nothing, calls to the hospital and morgue had been fruitless. When all else failed, a call had been placed to Break - the man might cause trouble, but he also has an uncanny knack of being able to know when things happen around here.
Except that his NV had also been disconnected.
With Luca and Madame Red gone as well, Gilbert hadn't allowed his grief to show on his face. There's no reason that the atmosphere of the house should be brought down by his sorrow when everyone else was grieving their own losses as well. But then Rochelle disappeared as well. Her boyfriend, Nick also seemed to be unreachable. Gilbert had dropped a tray of frosted cupcakes to the ground upon hearing the news, too overcome with still-repressed grief to be able to keep his hands still. He still hadn't recovered when, upon bringing a new pet mouse home from his brother, he discovered that Vincent, too, had disappeared from Siren's Port.
Loss is accompanied by pain, but the realization that things are left so incomplete and unsaid and unresolved is accompanied by numbness.
It's that numbness that still resides in Gilbert's heart as he calls upon his young master this morning. The weather is finally turning nice, it's a good day to talk a long walk and talk about all the things that they have so far left unsaid. But as they walk through the busy weekend-streets, Gil can't bring himself to say a single word. His lips part every once in a while, only to close again before he can even clear his throat.
I can't cry. I can't say a thing. How can I burden Oz's fragile heart with my own personal pain?
Only a hideous person would ask such a small body to carry that type of heavy thought.
So he walks silently beside his master, at the place where he belongs, and says nothing.
The newcomer memorial isn't far.
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Every other time, however...]
Yeah. [He finally admits, eyes still on the ground.]
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[ poor Gil. He's gone through this so, so many times. He has to do something, anything. But there's nothing he can do besides scoot a little closer and lean against Gil's side, peeking into the basket and what else might be hidden within. ]
You made sandwiches? [ he's not changing the subject; he's just trying to get Gil to look up again. A master looks out for his own after all. ]
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Ah. Cucumber and turkey.
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[What do you take him for, young master?! The turkey has sprouts on it, though, so it's not entirely meat. He can get away with that now that Alice isn't here. She'd probably kick him for putting vegetables on her precious meat!]
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[ see that trust shining in his face? It's blinding. ]
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Such a very normal, comfortable, predictable thing to say.
It's a good reprieve, a calming moment in the middle of a day filled with anxiety and sorrow and emptiness. Gil takes another sandwich from the basket and takes a bite. He doesn't even know which one he's chosen, but it doesn't matter. His young master's presence is what makes this moment so relaxing.]