[ The air is hazy with smoke, not-so-distant fires crackling all around. The sharp metallic stench of blood undercuts the acrid odor of burnt fabric, burnt wood, burnt flesh. It looks to be the inside of some kind of palace, with bloody corpses fallen in all the corridors, in doorways, sprawled over the stairs.
In the middle of it all is Gilbert himself, sitting cross-legged on a clean spot on the floor. He looks entirely unconcerned and perhaps even bored as he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. This isn't the first time this has happened to him, he doesn't suspect it'll be the last. No point in getting worked up over it. Either it'll clear up on its own soon, or he'll shake Raven awake to get him out of here. He really doesn't want to resort to that, however. Since he's already using his Chain to keep Elliot's Chain under control, the extra exertion will probably cause him to pass out for the better part of a day, and in the meantime who knows what mischief Humpty Dumpty will get up to. Sigh.
Yeah, best just to give it some time to clear up on its own. He flicks a bit of ash off the end of his cigarette in the general direction of the mess around him, then has another mildly disgruntled, ultimately unconcerned drag. ]
[ ★ — WELCOME TO YOUR FUNERAL ]
[ Gilbert blinks and he's standing before a casket. A priest drones on about a young life lost too soon, the tragedy of it, the peace that comes with death, how Elliot is well met by his family waiting for him on the other side—
Elliot.
His head jerks up, looking around him in disbelief. Vincent is next to him, that drab and overcast day, all of them in funeral blacks. Vincent sniffs into a handkerchief, though Gilbert doesn't see any tears. There are other nobles assembled, some representation from each of the houses, though neither Duke Nightray nor Leo are there.
Elliot's in that casket.
It's small. It's too small. Elliot shouldn't fit in there. How could they fit all of him, all of his strength, his presence, his personality, into that little polished box? How can he be gone when he was just here, was always here, as as much family to Gilbert as anyone has ever been?
Elliot's in there. He's in that box and he's never coming home again.
There was so much to deal with after the party. Not just Elliot's death, but Vanessa's. Everything that came to light that day, everyone who was hurt, all the greater implications of what they learned.
Gilbert never got to take a breath until this day, never had a moment for it all to sink in.
Now that one hysterical thought keeps repeating in his head.
Elliot's in there. Elliot's in that casket. Elliot's in there. They're going to put him in the ground.
A wave of nausea tears through him. How did he get here? Why is he here again? He turns, just as he did that day. He knows no one will come after him. He runs from the cemetery to the far tree line, runs until he reaches a clearing, crashes to his hands and feet. He doesn't want to be here. Hunching over the base of a tree, he dry heaves even as tears burn at his eyes, blurring his vision. ]
Dammit. [ He swears under his breath, trying to banish the sight of that fucking box. Get a grip, Gilbert. Elliot's not in there. He's waiting for you. He's at home if you just pull yourself together and get out of this mess. He just has to get up, get out of here. But he doesn't move. He chokes on his breath. He can still hear the rambling, meaningless eulogy. A gasping sob escapes him. ]
Gilbert Nightray | memshare prompts fight me
[ The air is hazy with smoke, not-so-distant fires crackling all around. The sharp metallic stench of blood undercuts the acrid odor of burnt fabric, burnt wood, burnt flesh. It looks to be the inside of some kind of palace, with bloody corpses fallen in all the corridors, in doorways, sprawled over the stairs.
In the middle of it all is Gilbert himself, sitting cross-legged on a clean spot on the floor. He looks entirely unconcerned and perhaps even bored as he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. This isn't the first time this has happened to him, he doesn't suspect it'll be the last. No point in getting worked up over it. Either it'll clear up on its own soon, or he'll shake Raven awake to get him out of here. He really doesn't want to resort to that, however. Since he's already using his Chain to keep Elliot's Chain under control, the extra exertion will probably cause him to pass out for the better part of a day, and in the meantime who knows what mischief Humpty Dumpty will get up to. Sigh.
Yeah, best just to give it some time to clear up on its own. He flicks a bit of ash off the end of his cigarette in the general direction of the mess around him, then has another mildly disgruntled, ultimately unconcerned drag. ]
[ ★ — WELCOME TO YOUR FUNERAL ]
[ Gilbert blinks and he's standing before a casket. A priest drones on about a young life lost too soon, the tragedy of it, the peace that comes with death, how Elliot is well met by his family waiting for him on the other side—
Elliot.
His head jerks up, looking around him in disbelief. Vincent is next to him, that drab and overcast day, all of them in funeral blacks. Vincent sniffs into a handkerchief, though Gilbert doesn't see any tears. There are other nobles assembled, some representation from each of the houses, though neither Duke Nightray nor Leo are there.
Elliot's in that casket.
It's small. It's too small. Elliot shouldn't fit in there. How could they fit all of him, all of his strength, his presence, his personality, into that little polished box? How can he be gone when he was just here, was always here, as as much family to Gilbert as anyone has ever been?
Elliot's in there. He's in that box and he's never coming home again.
There was so much to deal with after the party. Not just Elliot's death, but Vanessa's. Everything that came to light that day, everyone who was hurt, all the greater implications of what they learned.
Gilbert never got to take a breath until this day, never had a moment for it all to sink in.
Now that one hysterical thought keeps repeating in his head.
Elliot's in there. Elliot's in that casket. Elliot's in there. They're going to put him in the ground.
A wave of nausea tears through him. How did he get here? Why is he here again? He turns, just as he did that day. He knows no one will come after him. He runs from the cemetery to the far tree line, runs until he reaches a clearing, crashes to his hands and feet. He doesn't want to be here. Hunching over the base of a tree, he dry heaves even as tears burn at his eyes, blurring his vision. ]
Dammit. [ He swears under his breath, trying to banish the sight of that fucking box. Get a grip, Gilbert. Elliot's not in there. He's waiting for you. He's at home if you just pull yourself together and get out of this mess. He just has to get up, get out of here. But he doesn't move. He chokes on his breath. He can still hear the rambling, meaningless eulogy. A gasping sob escapes him. ]