duty-bound

Oswald Baskerville. Pandora Hearts. affiliated with citta alveare.

[slowsteadyandcombatready-deacti]

"Yep!" Said Penny cheerfully, holding up her invitation, "I’m here to experience what it is like to go to a ball!".

Despite her rather awkward way of putting it, she had never been to any form of formal event before. She had heard of them, but never experience one. She was here to see exactly what one is… though she wasn’t exactly dressed to impress, simply wearing what she normally wore plus the backpack she was provided with upon arrival. She… kinda stuck out; but that didn’t seem to bother her.

She also didn’t arrive with a date like most people were doing; she was all by herself. Which is when Penny came up with an idea. It’s not a date per se but she decided to ask the man if he would like to accompany her inside.

"Oh! I have the greatest idea!"

"Would you like to come inside with me? You look kind of lonely out here all by yourself."

Penny wasn’t sure if he had an invitation, but maybe they won’t mind if at least one of them had an invitation.

[chainsofconviction]

Oswald looked her over, and though his expression remained as impassive as always, he had to wonder if this girl knew what attending a ball entailed--

"I'm here to experience what it is like to go to a ball!"

...Well, that certainly answered his question. He... supposed it was understandable, to a certain degree, for her to remain unaware of the proper rules that were set in place for a ball, but perhaps Hive City functioned differently and it hardly even mattered. His dress, for that matter, was nothing too impressive, particularly compared to what he'd known as the norm. They were, more or less, on the same boat.

At her... idea, however, Oswald had to pause and truly look at the girl before him in favor of continuing on his observations about the past. Was she--?

...Yes, she most certainly was. Oswald should've simply refused her offer and left; after all, what need had he for a partner when he'd never quite had one in all his years of attending such formal events? (Though, he always found himself sharing at least a dance or two when Lacie had taken his hands, admonishing him for doing nothing but watch even though it was his duty to do so before looking up at him expectantly.)

"...Normally, it is the man who asks the woman for her company," Oswald finally replied, and offered his arm--certainly not any sort of grandiose invitation by any means, but looking at the two of them, it wouldn't have fit them very much either way. In his other hand, he held his own invitation, ready to be shown to those controlling admissions.

[chainsofconviction]

gently slides in "Kill Me" for the drabble meme

Had things gone according to plan, he wouldn’t have had to kill Jack.

Still, by all means, Oswald should have felt satisfied. Jack had killed him once, had betrayed him and nearly destroyed the world because of his convoluted beliefs of what Lacie wanted. And yet, as he stood with Jack’s bleeding body by his feet, Oswald did not feel happy, or satisfied, or even proud. Instead, he felt empty, almost as if his own heart was beating in another chest and took with it the emotions that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge for years. (But that was impossible, because he could hear it—each thump ringing clearly in his ears, like a hammer pounding in the nail to seal a coffin shut.)

"…Jack."

Ah, even his own voice sounded so far away. The name fell from Oswald’s lips in a quiet murmur, and the only one close enough to hear no longer could.

Silence.

Slowly, Oswald looked at his sword. The blade gleamed with blood, but it was not a sight he was unfamiliar with. He’d killed far too many already, first in an attempt to right his wrongs, and then out of a necessity fueled partly by anger. Those deaths, he had detached himself from. As soon as the corpses hit the floor, Oswald had turned away to continue on.

And yet…

And yet, as he shifted his gaze back to Jack’s lifeless body, gone now for good, Oswald felt a heavy weight settle atop his chest. (It shouldn’t hurt.) But it was okay. (It shouldn’t hurt.) This was how things were supposed to be.

(Oh, but it hurt.)

Oswald had said goodbye to Jack years ago. They’d been enemies ever since, remaining on opposite sides of a spectrum that had once brought them together and made them friends. Killing Jack had then become a goal, a desire, for a blade driven by betrayal and anger. (Because Jack didn’t understand; none of this was for Lacie, it shouldn’t have been, because Lacie loved this world and found it beautiful. Jack had no right to destroy it for her sake.)

Why was it, then, that when he’d finally achieved it and Jack Vessalius lay dead on the ground, he felt like this?

(Perhaps because, in the end, Jack had still called him Glen. And he should’ve, because Glen was the one killing him.

Oswald was the one mourning for the friend he could not keep.)

[chainsofconviction]

Time Headcanon

You’d expect someone who’s technically immortal to not care much for time, but Oswald is always, always aware of it—and not only in the sense that he’s very punctual. He never lets himself forget that time has passed—that is no longer Oswald Baskerville, that he is no longer at any sort of liberty to reach out to anyone, and that, the more the clock ticks, the less time he has to fix his mistakes before it’s too late. He doesn’t want another Sablier, and to that end, he’ll work endlessly to prevent it—and that means not wasting a single second.

(Of course, time also brings to mind the memory of the past--how, over a hundred years ago, he was once foolish enough to be content with his sister and his friend.)

(Unfortunately, being brought to Hive City is really screwing with his intentions and duties because there is no Abyss here.)

[chainsofconviction]

List of Drabble Prompts

Scream: My character has caused yours to scream out for some reason

Graveyard: My character will visit your characters grave

Spectre: My character will be visited by your character’s ghost or vice versa

Dream: My character will have a dream about your character

Nightmare: One of our characters will have a nightmare.

Busted: Your character will catch mine doing something they shouldn’t.

Break Me: I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Comfort Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character comforting yours- vise versa.

Drink Me: I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Dominate Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character dominating yours. Or vise versa.

Embarrass Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character saying or doing something embarrassing to himself or to your character.

Haunt Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours [as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Hunt with me: I’ll write a drabble about your character and mine on a hunt together.

Join Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer

Kill Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Nurse Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Raise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character resurrecting yours. Vise versa.

Surprise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character surprising yours. Vise versa.

Save Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character saving yours or vise versa.

Shoot Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character shooting yours or vise versa.

Torture Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character torturing mine or vise versa.

Deny Me: my character will either deny your character’s advances or deny them a ’ happy ending’

Blindfold Me: my character will blindfold yours in order to have their fun

Meet Me: My character is meeting yours either for the first time or just causally.

Slap me: my character will slap yours. In the sexual manner, or of anger. specify.

Call Me: My character will call your character for whatever reason.

Hug Me: My character will hug yours. Either by surprise or for a specific reason.

Give Me: my character will give yours a gift

Sleep: My character needs to stay at your character’s house for the night, or vise versa. Specify.

Drink: My character will call, text, or show up at your character’s house drunk. Specify which of the three.

Heal: My character will tend to your character’s wounds, or be at their side when they’re sick.

Protect: My character keeps yours safe from harm.

Kiss: My character kisses yours, or vise versa. Specify.

Dream: My character wakes up in the middle of the night because of a dream with your character in it.

Revenge: My character will get revenge on yours.

Jealousy: My character gets jealous over yours.

Hallucinations: My character will have hallucinations about your character.

Candle: Our characters spending time together by candle light.

Gift: My character gives your character something special. Or vise versa. Specify.

Spell: I’ll write my character putting a spell on yours. Or being under a spell/curse.

Song: My charcter singing a song to yours, or vice versa.

Gloves: How my character deals with news from yours, Specify

Snow: Our characters in the cold together.

Rain: I’ll write a fluffy drabble of our characters kissing in the rain.

Kill: I’ll write a angst drabble of my character violently killing yours.

Love: I’ll write a drabble of my character admitting they love yours.

Lust: I’ll write a drabble of our characters making love together.

Date: I’ll write a drabble of my character taking yours out on a date.

Defend: I’ll write a drabble of my character protecting yours.

Fight: I’ll write a drabble of my character fighting with/against yours.

Trick: Your character and mine being sneaky together

Treat: Your character and mine being sweet to one another

Costume: Your character or mine, dressing up for the other

Stars: Our characters under the stars together

Snow: Our characters in the cold together

Scarf: Your character or Mine borrowing/stealing clothes from the other

Hot Cocoa: Our characters enjoying a hot moment together.

Candles: Our characters enjoying a moment by candlelight

Gift: Your character or mine, surprising the other with a present

Bows: Your character or mine, dressing/undressing the other

Peppermint: Your character or mine, sharing a sweet secret with the other.

[cittamemes]

Send me a word plus 'Headcanon' and I'll give a headcanon based on that word.

[cittamemes]

Anon or not I'd like to hear your thoughts on how I play my character! Critiques as well as good points welcome!

[chainsofconviction]

[slowsteadyandcombatready-deacti]

Penny approached the entrance to the ball, hands by her side and elevated slightly at the wrist for some peculiar reason with her invitation in tow. The huntress didn’t have anything interesting to wear, she was simply wearing exactly the same thing as she normally does, she’s even still got the backpack she was provided with still on her back.

She was attending more out of curiosity more than anything. Plus there are certain things she wished to experience herself… such as drinking punch!

As her heels stepped up the steps to where the attendants were accepting invitations, her eyes drifted over to a man, dressed rather fancily, simply staring at the entrance to the ball. As she observed the man with a slightly ajar mouth, she reasoned that he must be in deep thought, he certainly looked it.

Walking over, she waved in his face and spoke.

"Hello!"

"What are you up to?"

[chainsofconviction]

It wasn't that Oswald was unused to talking to strangers; rather, many of them, in his experience, had taken care to avoid him unless they were brave enough to try and foster good relations with the Baskerville household.

("It's because you're never smiling!" Lacie had told him once, just before he promptly reached up to forcibly tug his lips into a smile. "See, Oswald? Much better!")

Hive City, of course, was different. Here, no one knew who he was, or who the Baskervilles were even meant to be. Here, he was a stranger, one among many. Still, he didn't expect a girl to approach him so freely without a care in the world.

It felt almost nostalgic.

"...Everyone is here for the ball." Which... included him now, he supposed. "As you are, I presume?"

[chainsofconviction]

Oswald had never found balls to be particularly fun, but he'd made sure to attend every single one, whether it was hosted by the Baskervilles or another noble house. After all, balls were social functions, and where there were people, there was bound to be talking. Gossip. Information that could either aid or harm the existence of Glen and the people he led.

(And... although briefly, he had to admit that it was not entirely tiresome. He still remembered Lacie dancing with any partner who caught her fancy, and Jack charming both men and women alike over a glass of wine. He remembered Levi approaching him with a glass of his finest, telling him to drink and have some fun even though he had work to do.)

But, that had been years ago.

Now, he was simply alone, left to stare at the entrance of this supposedly grand ball and wonder if there were any merits for someone like him to enter.

[narcolepsychain-blog]

Lost || Oswald Baskerville

[narcolepsychain-blog]

Hate was such a strong lovely word to use. Did Vincent hate him? Did he despise the head of the Baskervilles because he failed him back over a hundred years when he was nothing but an oblivious child? The question alone was heavy, heavy enough to bring pain to his chess. This place, this place wasn’t their world, he had no power over Vincent none of them did. No point erasing himself any more, not even Alyss had any sort of power over any chain at all. They were all just fallen pawns in the chess game of those who found it fascinating to use them for entertainment and thus, rid them from damnation.

The Nightray couldn’t help but break in a chuckle that turned into a ridicule laugh that didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

"Hate. Glen Baskerville cares if his servant hates him. How glorious is tonight? I was blessed to see you once more wasn’t I? The detached head of our glorious dukedom asking such pointless questions I am in awe."

But of course he does hate him. For those reasons and even more than that, for the sole fact that he was born he hates him. Because he was dragged to become a Baskerville, he was given a life purpose a house, a family. Vincent had a family, with Gilbert all together with Master Glen, he could see Gilbert smile and be happy, master Glen cared…

Master Glen… Master Glen… never cared… He never cared, he never ever cared… Master Glen, why…

Feeling like a child the insides of his head falling apart he wanted to rip off his own face, he needed to stab something, destroy a plush, destroy anything that was near him, but there was nothing but Oswald Baskerville. 

It was absurd almost as if he could see his own child self standing next to Glen in front of him. 

Young, naive, careless, hurt, broken, cursed, despised, tossed aside, spat one, young Vincent. Wasn’t master Glen, who gave him a home? Wasn’t he? He wanted to make fun of Vincent’s pain, he… he could’ve tossed him into the abyss right away, to save Gilbert, wasn’t that the plan anyway, yeah it totally was… So why, caring for the servant hating the master? When the servant was no more. No more, he owed nothing he owed everything Master Glen breaks Vincent, and makes him want to die again.

"I have no purpose of existing why did you let it happen why? You let Alice do all these things why did you let her do this, why did you die and left me behind, master? You and master Jack you both didn’t love me, but that’s fine now because now. I’m all grown up…"

And another smile was granted as he shut his eyes in hopes to make the image of Glen disappear.

"I am Vincent Nightray, this is who I am now, I am forgotten, and rotten to the core of my being, I have no soul left, no time to hate, master."I hate you so much, I hate you so much.

"Master, kill me."

[chainsofconviction]

Care—did he truly care if Vincent hated him? If the boy who had once laughed and smiled so brightly whenever Jack came to visit, who had once clung tightly to Gilbert’s hand as Oswald brought his to-be successor into the study, despised him? …No; if Oswald truly reflected, it was not compassion that drove him to ask, for Glen Baskerville could not afford to wrangle out yet another drop of compassion with where he stood. (Oswald would have, though—foolish Oswald who had allowed the walls around his heart to crumble, to allow water to trickle in until it broke his defenses and left him with blood staining his hands and following his every step.)

Regardless, Vincent was still wrong. Oswald had loved him—had loved Vincent and Gilbert both, had loved Lacie, had loved Jack, had loved too many people when he ought to have been detached. Love meant nothing to Glen Baskerville in the face of duty, and duty demanded that all Children of Misfortune be banished to the Abyss so that they would not be able to bring harm to the rest of mankind. Glen was an executioner whose hands would never be clean, whose gloves would always be dripping with blood and guilt because it was the duty of the accursed to kill what had been tainted most from their filthy souls. 

But of all the Glen Baskervilles that had come and gone throughout the ages, Oswald’s hands were the dirtiest—because they were tainted not only with the death of a Child of Misfortune, but also with the deaths of the people of Sablier. In order to save them from the fate that awaited them should they have been sucked into the Abyss, he had ordered for their deaths—their murders—and never once regretted his decision. It was the better alternative, but it was not a solution because there should never have been a problem in the first place. 

Oswald had made a mistake—and from one mistake came another, and another, until he was fighting to simply keep the chains binding the world in one piece.

But, these were truths and regrets that Vincent, or anyone else, did not need to know. They were burdens that needed to be on his shoulders alone, and problems that he would have to fix with his own strength. That was what it meant to be Glen Baskerville—it meant to be alone.

“…If you wish so desperately for death, Vincent, find it elsewhere. I will not kill you.” Oswald’s voice was firm, but not cruel. He’d always known and accepted that Vincent would have to die in one way or another, but not like this. Not from so dirty and unworthy a death. 

[rapunzelhair]

It would have only been a matter of time, he had thought this numerous amounts.

Whether it was Leo or Oswald, the presence of “Glen Baskerville” was in the city. That much was for certain. Perhaps it was just more concrete if not nostalgic that the one who held the title was Oswald rather than the other. That’s the way that Jack had remembered it anyway, “Glen” was Oswald to him — rather, Oswald had become Glen. The man he had met as Lacie’s brother didn’t exist anymore. That was a sad notion at first, and maybe he missed him somewhere deep down, before everything had twisted by his hands. That was his own fault, and he was well aware of that, Jack was always aware what his actions would bring — upon others, upon himself.

But that was fine. He didn’t care about the means, the end was what was justified. That’s just the way that Jack Vessalius perceived things.

Yet when a voice, so bone chillingly familiar, called his name - he was inclined to turn around. An expression uncontrolled that bore surprise crossed, and his body had reacted in an interesting way. His hands clenched and he took steps towards the Baskerville at first, but his daunting strides halted suddenly. The floor beneath him felt like quicksand and the noble took very gradual steps backwards to create distance between them again.

He absolutely had to be decisive with what he did or said now. When it came to Glen, to Oswald, he always was the most careful about words that were spilled from his lips. Whether it was true or not, was always, always, debatable. Emerald green eyes decidedly never left those of Glen’s, searching them for any semblance of an answer to a question that rung in the back of his mind.

Ah, but he sighed and thought about it no longer. Instead, he played his part as perfectly poised as he had always done.

❝Long time, no see, Glen.❞

[chainsofconviction]

As soon as Jack began to approach him, Oswald drew his sword, but even as the man retreated, the Baskerville did not lower his hand. He could feel Jabberwock bristle within him, reacting to his anger, but he did not yet allow his Chain to surface.

Normally, Oswald was more controlled than this--but normally, he didn't get the chance to see the man he'd foolishly befriended and trusted once. Certainly, it was his fault; Oswald himself had known that Jack Vessalius was a suspicious character, that he wasn't to be trusted, and that, if anything, he needed to be closely watched. But, unknowingly or not, he'd still befriended Jack. He taught Jack every secret pathway leading in and out of the Baskerville manor. He'd made music with Jack. 

All because Jack was his friend--and what a laughable thought that was. If Glen Baskerville could not even keep his own sister, what had made him think that he could keep a mere friend? Oswald had known how much Lacie had meant to Jack, had known how much Jack had loved Lacie and viewed her as the sun in his world. Why, then, had he not suspected anything of Jack afterwards? How could he have been so foolish?

(Because Oswald could have had a friend. Oswald could have had a sister. Glen couldn't--not then, and not now.)

Slowly, his grip on his sword tightened--but again, he made no moves to attack. It was difficult to give words to the feelings that ran through him, burning hot in his veins until he could feel each beat of his once-dead heart. By all means, he ought to simply run Jack through immediately, regardless of whether or not his death would have any sort of effect in the world that mattered. (But even after a hundred years and the blood of thousands of people on his hands, there was still a part of him that couldn't help but need an answer, a confirmation for why.)

"...How long have you been here, Jack?"

How long had he evaded Oswald's grasp? How long had he been hiding away here, refusing to answer for his crimes?

[chainsofconviction]

Hive City was not home, and regardless of what methods were used to bring and keep him there, it was not a place he would ever treat as home. He was not like Leo, who accepted a mere scientist's experiment as a new reality, nor like Oz, who remained happy enough to be where he was not the only aberration. But more than that he couldn't be, he simply refused to be. 

If there was anything that Oswald had learned, it was that fate was not something that could be avoided. He was Glen Baskerville--the very embodiment of misfortune and the one whose existence cursed his own sister to be born as a Child of Ill Omen. It was who he was, who he'd become, and who he would always be, regardless of where he was. (And he was not so foolish, not so easily tricked, to believe that things would be different here. He had lost everything once, and now had to pay the price to try to right his wrongs. He would not make the same mistake here.)

That being said, however, being Glen Baskerville also meant being a leader--and a leader had followers. He had already met Lily, who'd proved herself to be well and good. (And for that, he was relieved; certainly, he'd constantly schooled himself to keep a fair distance from everyone that even wished to draw near, but his heart--curse it for still being so weak--still held care.) But what could be said about the other Baskervilles, if they were indeed here? He'd forgotten to ask Lily about it, but the possibility remained in his mind ever since.

So, Oswald searched. It would do no harm to know who he would have to bring back with him once he found a way to escape this experimental prison, after all. The first few days of his search were fruitless, but he had yet to look through the entirety of the city. And perhaps that was why, by chance, when he finally entered a new area to look, he saw her.

"Charlotte."

Finally.

[chainsofconviction]

If there was one thing that Oswald had learned thus far during his stay in Hive City, it was that nothing he did here would necessarily affect the situation back home. But instead of being a relief, it was... disconcerting.

He didn't--couldn't, absolutely refused to--believe that simply being in another realm allowed him to escape his fate. After all, how long could this ruse last? He did not intend to stay here forever; eventually, he would find a way out and return back to his home, back to Sablier, and set the record straight. He wouldn't be like Leo, weak and feebleminded as the boy was, and simply lose himself in something far too akin to a dream. (Because dreams were bound to end--but in the meanwhile, what was to say it wouldn't turn into a nightmare? And even if it didn't, it was no more than a distraction. Simply having a dream would not change the reality outside of it.)

But... he understood. He understood, because once, he, too, had been weak--had been too idealistic, too trusting, and too foolish. He'd trusted the one man he'd vowed to be wary of, and instead of keeping a safe distance, Oswald had drawn too close. The fault was his own, but his anger--betrayal, hurt, regret--remained deeply ingrained in one name.

"...Jack..."

And as if Oswald's thoughts had taken form and had, before his very eyes, brought the same man within his line of vision, there he stood--Jack Vessalius. With the same brilliant blonde hair (ah, the hair he'd once picked stray leaves off of) and the same green eyes (the eyes he'd stared at for far too long, trying to find something yet seeing only himself be reflected in that gaze)... yes, there was no mistaking it.

He... shouldn't have been so surprised. After all, if he had been given corporeal form, what could stop Jack from regaining it as well? And that Oz boy had mentioned that Jack was around, but...

(To finally see Jack again after so many years--his first friend, his best friend, his last friend--)

"Jack Vessalius...!"

(--Ah, he wanted to kill him.)

[chainsofconviction]

rapunzelhair replied to your post:// I still have two finals left, ugh. But by this...

slides towards discreetly

// discreet grabby hands we should.... thread.............

even tho oswald's just gonna be a v upset dickbag

[chainsofconviction]

// I still have two finals left, ugh. But by this time tomorrow, I'll be free. /o/ So if anyone wants to thread, hit me up via message (if you wanted something specific, or if you'd like to start something) or like this post if you'd like for me to write up a starter for you.

[chainsofconviction]

So that was how things were done here--survive a trial and earn rewards. Though, could these things really be called a trial when it seemed more like the scientists were merely experimenting on human emotions?

"...Hm."

Regardless, Oswald was now properly armed with his sword once again. And though Jabberwock was unfortunately still limited in its powers, it was a start.

[chainsofconviction]

♚

[redeyedqueen]

Oswald looks different from when she last saw him, and it makes Lacie wonder how much time has passed. He seems sadder and maybe more troubled underneath the silent shock he wears at the moment. However, she’s just happy that he’s here because this is the only place that they can interact. The dead usually stay dead and the living continue to live. That concept is very much broken and warped here, but she minds little. 

When he speaks her name, she gives him a smile, one that is filled with understanding. She is not supposed to be alive and can vaguely guess what is going on in that mind of his. Her brother’s hand is warm and comforting, and she grasps the hand that holds hers in return. Beneath it, she can feel his heartbeat. 

They are both alive and well and really that’s all that could ever matter to her. 

“I’ve missed you too, brother.” She states. Lacie knows Oswald better than he knows himself sometimes, and that she was sure of. That’s why he didn’t need to even halfway finish his sentence before she knew what he was going to say. They might as well be twins, but he’s older and will always be the older one.  

The smile she wears turns into something that seems tired yet relieved, maybe even a little sad. She gave many sad smiles because her fate was a sad one that could not be avoided. However, she grew up just as happy as she had been sad, so it’s okay really. Sadness was something that often border-lined loneliness, and she was never a fan of either, even at young age. That’s why she sought the comfort of the Abyss when she was small and no one would be around to keep her company. Though she always said she was keeping the Core from getting too lonely, but it was the other way as well most of the time. 

A sigh is exhaled, and she allows herself to get closer to the older. Hands still held, Lacie drops her head on his shoulder like she used to do often when they were young, shifting her head so her cheeks rests on his shoulder. 

“I’ve been here a few months shy of a year, and dead for I don’t even know how long. I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. It couldn’t be helped though.”

She had always known how much her brother beat himself up over their circumstance. How she was born the way she was and the fact that she died. Lacie never blamed him for any of those things and often told him not to blame himself, but he’s stubborn just like she is. Their fate was already mapped out probably before they were even born; tragedy etched into their bones and laced their every breath before they were even aware of their respected roles. 

A Child of Misfortune and a successor to Glen were never supposed to have happy ending in the first place. 

[chainsofconviction]

Sorry? Why was she sorry? What wrong, what crime, had Lacie ever committed? The world had shunned her, but she found it beautiful regardless. When Oswald had been too blind to be able to see much beauty in each vibrant flower, she'd taken his hand and led him to the garden until her radiance offered warmth to what had once seemed fragile and weak. And when Oswald had played the piano, stringing one note after the other in a melancholy deluge of noise, Lacie had sung to transform it into music.

But she was not his light. She was not his sun. She was not on the pedestal that Jack Vessalius had foolishly placed her on. Instead, Lacie was something much, much more. She was company in a silent field, warmth on a cold winter night, and love when Oswald could only hate himself for what he never had any control over. She was a welcoming embrace when he was weak, a smile when he was strong, and most important of all, his sister.

(And before they were adopted into the Baskervilles, Oswald had thought--had sworn--that he'd keep Lacie safe. He'd keep her happy. One day, he would work hard until he had enough funds to buy a house, and then Lacie would be able to eat and sing and dance to her heart's content. Even with her red eyes, she would be loved, because Lacie wasn't, couldn't be, a Child of Misfortune when she'd brought Oswald so much joy merely by remaining by his side.

But then the lights had led him home, to the Baskerville manor, and suddenly, Oswald had realized that all his desires had been far too childish.

He should've wished simply for Lacie to be able to live at all.)

Oswald lowered his head, and brought his arm to draw her close. It almost felt like a dream to have her here with him, to have her alive and well even though he knew for a fact that she ought to be dead--and that, before being brought here, he'd already resolved that for the better good, he had to kill her.

But Oswald had long since stopped dreaming, and with every sense so fully encompassed by his sister, he knew that as surreal as his situation was, it could not be a dream. Lacie was truly with him here and now--not in the past, where he would have to kill her; not in the past, where he would have to have her blood warm his hands.

"...You've no need to apologize to me," he finally replied, his voice just shy of a murmur. "You've done no wrong, Lacie." Never.