I know who I was when I got up this morning...

[maddeninghatter]

Who: Gilbert Nightray, Xerxes Break, Phancyhive denizens
When: Saturday, August 4
Where: Phantomhive-Trancy Estate
Summary: Bodyswap shenanigans
Warnings: None

BANG! BANG! BANG!

[ Having paid attention to the network and the news over the past few weeks, as well as directly witnessing Ahiru's experiences, Xerxes Break wasn't completely surprised to awaken this morning in a different body. ]

BANG! BANGBANG!

[ Tch! Gilbert's hands are so enormous. Break adored them, at first; but how does one actually accomplish anything with such fat fingers? Getting bullets properly loaded into their chambers is an unexpected challenge. ]

BANG! BANG!

[ Gilbert's height feels awkward; he's clumsy and slow. Yet Break can feel a sense of vigor that he hasn't experienced in years. He'd forgotten what it felt like. Youth. Health. Even taking a deep breath is a pleasure (despite Gilbert's idiotic habit of poisoning himself with cigarettes).

Oh. And… binocular vision. Yes, that.

Which is why Break is outside the Phantomhive-Trancy estate, at 7 o' clock in the morning, shooting his name (Gilbert's name, actually!) into the side of a garden retaining wall. Because he can. ]

Comments

[retraced]

How are people not supposed to find out?! I'm supposed to work tomorrow! I can't bake if I can't see the ingredients well!

[He coughs again, but it's weaker this time. It's difficult to bring his tone lower to one that Break's vocal cords can handle.]

[maddeninghatter]

[ ...






GLEE! ]

I'd be ~delighted~ to go in your place! ☆

[ Which is Break's cue to cough. His new voice is unsuited to lilting trills! ]

[retraced]

[Stop messing with his voice! He's spent years perfecting that stoic annoyance!]

N-no way! There's no way that I'd let you into my kitchen! Do you even know the first thing about baking?!

[maddeninghatter]

I know the first thing about eating, that's close enough. Besides, how hard can it be--

[ Time for a forehead poke. Cheer up, Gilbert! ]

--if yoooooooou can do it!

[ Okay, that came out a little squeakier than intended, and his voice broke during the long vowel, but he's beginning to get the hang of it! ]

[retraced]

[Gah! He winces and jumps at the poke, and rubs at his forehead angrily. He's not a child Break, he's actually like twice your age now, technically. And it sucks.]

Not as easy as it looks... [He grumbles, before something else occurs to him. Something far more important.]

Raven is... [He reaches up to touch his chest. Not only is he missing the feeling of his Chain there, replaced by a darker, more terrifying one, there's also a fresh wound in his body's chest that Break will end up seeing. Damn it!]

You don't know how to handle him - if you end up having to summon him for some reason you could hurt yourself. Er - me!

[maddeninghatter]

I've no intention of summoning your fine feathered friend.

[ A nice, looooooooooooooong pause.



Wait for it.




Wait. ]

Oh, and by the way...

[ Are you squirming yet, Gilbert? ]

...speaking of hurting yourself...

[ He's just going to let that query hang in the air. ]

[retraced]

[The look of frightened, guilty, defeated despair that Break's face takes then is one so tragic looking that he definitely won't recognize it in his own bizarre mirrored reflection. He can't even bring himself to ask 'what?' Yes, yes he's definitely squirming.]

[maddeninghatter]

[ Although Gilbert's degree of pathos is in a class by itself, Break is absolutely familiar with fright, guilt, defeat, and despair. He's been experiencing them in turns (and sometimes all together) before, during and since his arrival at Siren's Port. However, actually seeing these emotions contorting his own face... ]

Explain!

[ It's illustrating his self-loathing in stark detail. His hand itches, once again, for the gun. ]

[retraced]

[He flinches again, like he's been burned, and replies with a very honest:]

I-I can't!

[maddeninghatter]

[ Something is going on with Gilbert, something very serious. But he can't concentrate; it's all too much. All the little irritants - his slender, girlish fingers, his slight, slender figure - as well as his own maimed face, staring at him with so much horror. He knows this is serious; but with so much stimulation, he can't concentrate, can't think, can't see...

He steps back. He closes his eyes. Suddenly, the world leaps into sharp focus. ]

Gilbert.

This is a chest wound. It should have killed you. What happened? Start at the beginning. How did you get it?

[retraced]

[It should have killed you. He's been saying this to himself for days now, in that same voice that he's listening to now, but never out loud. Hearing it now like this with the world a fuzzy dark mess and feeling like he's breathing through a thick sheet of canvas, it makes him want to cry.

Except there's no eye there to cry from, and the other feels dry and useless.

Useless...]

This isn't exactly the best time to talk about it. [Strained.]

1/2

[maddeninghatter]

[ Break touches his own - that is to say, Gilbert's chest. It's a patchwork of scars; this fresh one is only the latest. ]

Why not? This isn't the first--

[ He stops, abruptly. With his eyes closed, Break can perceive the all the points of data that he has amassed over the years. Gilbert lies at a nexus. He was at Sablier; he is connected to everything, in some way. Break has never been able to perceive precisely how.

This isn't the first...

...

A bright pattern is beginning to emerge. He opens his eyes. ]

[maddeninghatter]

Ha! Ha! Ha!

[ His tone is suddenly jovial. He reaches for his stick and very lightly raps Gilbert's (his own) head with it. ]

I suppose you're right. Having a hard time walking in my shoes, hmmm?

[retraced]

[The first? His eye goes a bit wider. Of course Break has seen the rest of his old scars on his body by this point. Though that does make his stomach turn to think that Break has looked at any part of him without clothes on--

He's almost glad for the hit to the head, if only because it knocks that frightening thought right out of his brain. He reaches up to grab his head with both hands.]

H-hey! This is your body you're hurting!

[But he's still breathing a little frantically, unable to shake that sickening feeling away completely that Break will be questioning him about this at a later time.]

And I wouldn't be able to find your shoes even if I wanted to...

[Behold, Break. Your stupid girly bare feet.]

[maddeninghatter]

[ No, no, no. Break isn't going to question you at all, Gilbert; not for the time being, anyway. Right now, he's going to torment and tease and distract you as much as he can, in the hopes that he can keep you from thinking about it. Keep you from connecting the dots. There's a hypothesis forming in Break's mind, but he won't say a word until he's sure; he needs to be right, very right. ]

Right, right. That's whyyyyyyyy we need to get you dressed! Wardrobe's here.

[ He spins Gilbert around by the shoulders and takes his hand, placing it on the front of the ornately carved wardrobe doors. ]

Boots are just outside the door.

[ They seem to get polished every night if he leaves them out. ]

Wear them. You'll stub your toes on everything, otherwise.

[ And DON'T let anybody see those tiny girly feet, geez Gilbert. ]

[retraced]

[Suddenly - spinning around! Being pushed through this sort of darkness is ridiculously dizzying all on its own. He truly has no idea how Break managed to hide this from him for so long. He runs that hand along the outside of the wardrobe, weak feminine fingers trailing down towards the doorknob.

And then he freezes and tenses up.]

I'm not wearing your clothes.

[There isn't enough black in this wardrobe. He doesn't care if he can't see it, he knows.]

[maddeninghatter]

[ ...what? ]

Whose clothes do you plan on wearing?

[ He realizes he's still holding his own shoulders. Ugh, they're narrow and bony. Gilbert's huge hands cover them completely. He steps back at once and folds his arms. ]

[retraced]

My own! Your clothes are ridiculous!

[Yeah, he went there. He's not so sure about his own shoes, though. Break's stupid girly feet would probably drown in his boots. But then, most of Break's shoes were floppy and too big already, so maybe it doesn't even matter. As soon as Break moves away from him, he takes a step back and puts a hand out, searching for the wall. He's pretty sure he knows this room well enough to know where the door is.]