The Coldest Hand

Kristoph Gavin, at your service. [ Roleplay/Ask side-blog for Kristoph Gavin, set in Post-SoJ timeline. Somehow, he was set loose into the world. ] [ Indie / Semi-Selective / Headcanon Heavy / Multi Fandom OK ] [ Follows back from kodapi ] [ Banner drawn by sinlizards ]

[disgustinggf]

You have not let it go

do i fucking look like elsa to you or something

[procksecutor]

Tomatoes, onions and- a head...? Klavier had rarely ever heard of cabbages referred to as a head. Usually, it's accompanied by the phrase of cabbage. A head of cabbage. He looked at Kristoph, raising a confused brow. Because that's what he was - he didn't think twice about it, didn't think about any other implications. The wording simply was confusing...And slightly worrying. Maybe he was overthinking, maybe his brain is making falsehoods up, but he's so certain that it was a worrying phrasing.

He edged closer to Kristoph, leaning in slightly, as a curious pet would. Was he feeling okay? Did he have to sit down a while? Klavier wondered if he should pull out a chair for Kristoph to sit in, just in case. But then he managed to speak, and suddenly everything was fine. Almost everything. There were still thoughts on how he could help the older, somehow.

"Ach-" Klavier shook his head slightly, "Alright...But if you need to sit down, please do. I was worried for you."

He didn't want Kristoph to overwork himself. Not now, not ever. He thinks all this might be just too much for the older Gavin. It's like being deprived of sight and suddenly you can see again - that things should be taken at a good pace. He pulled out a chair, just in case. It was a silent gesture, mainly. At least if one excludes what he said. But it was good to emphasize his point, plus helpful! He doesn't let Kristoph bother with the extra pulling out of the chair. Saves him time. Klavier soon got to work with the tomatoes, cutting them with a decent thickness. He was told to start with the tomatoes, so he will start with them. He'd rather work in the order Kristoph gave. He kept his eyes on the movement on the knife, making sure not to cut his fingertips.

"Can't have you passing out, or something." Klavier soon spoke lightly, forcing a grin as he attempted to lighten the mood. It felt like it needed to lightened, "Otherwise, what would they think? They'd think I'm not fit enough to look after you if I can't stop you from passing out. Right...? I don't know how it works, but I know I'd feel awful if I let you pass out on my watch."

[toxiism]

    ( ❝ What would they think? ❞ )

     ‹ They'd think the same as always, Kristoph bitterly mused to himself. The same thoughts over and over, so quick to ignore his achievements to flaunt his flaws. They all thought that way. The one one who was even halfway sensible about it was unironically Klavier, the very same man Kristoph now saw as little more than a pet to train properly, to leash and control until the time was right. At least he had the sensibility to remember Kristoph's achievements. ›

     ‹ His thoughts kept him distracted enough though. Soon the preparation for the ingredients had been completed between the two of them, with the chair left empty and the eldest's attention now turned to readying the pan with a light, even coating of oil. As the burner was turned on and he pulled the fish over, he loosened a low hum of consideration; this truly was so much like the past that even he had felt old wounds crack open slowly across his heart. ›

     ‹ It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. Fools and con artists were allowed all the spoils, but men who carried the world on their shoulders and sacrificed it all were left to rot. The sizzle of the fish as it was laid in the oil sounded so distorted in his ears, as though he had driven a knife through a snake's head and listened to it writhe. ›

     ‹ Oh, how he wish he could do the same to the other snakes he knew. For now though, he would busy himself with feeding one of them, waiting for him to grow lazy and complacent and needy. He would wait years if he must, but he would never forgive the betrayal. ›

    ❝ Tell me a story, Klavi, ❞ ‹ Kristoph would suddenly speak after the thick silence that had permeated the atmosphere moments ago. › ❝ Workplace stories, everyday stories. We have much and more to catch up on, let us not tarry. ❞

     ‹ There was no interest felt for these stories, in truth. He just needed something to fill his ears so that his thoughts would scatter. ›

[candyredmusings]

I look at them and I feel nothing

I hear them scream and I feel nothing

I watch them bleed and I feel nothing

Nothing, nothing, nothing ... for they deserve it

[shiromemes]

Go on Anon and tell me your muses thoughts on mine.

Good, bad, ugly- Doesn’t matter, nows your muses chance to voice their thoughts anonymously.

[toxiism]

😶 + What are you, Kristoph Gavin? Are you conscious of the eyes on you? Surely a smart man like you can realize there's a divide between you and everyone else, how everyone notices every little thing about you. Like one of Zak Gramarye had done. What's the point of your existence? Do you deserve to exist? Do you even exist in the first place? Or are you just a thing?

     [ Unrestrained Interrogation » From: Uncomfortable Questions ]

     ‹ Each question was listened to, make no mistake. Cold, emotionless eyes fixated upon the faceless figure, hands folded upon a lap with loose-crossed legs, every word drank in with an almost eerie silence having fallen upon the room like a suffocating blanket. ›

     ‹ The name Zak did briefly make his right hand tighten, the muscles contracting as if on sheer instinct. It was something that elicited an almost primal anger in him, the glaze of nonchalance over his eyes briefly broken by the softest hint of rage. ›

     ‹ Then the taunting came, and his senses were restored. Hearing the descent into desperate hatred did cause a smile to grow upon his lips slowly as he watched his interrogator put such emphasis into those words. So swiftly had control of the discussion been returned into Kristoph's hands without the other realizing it; they were such a good little pup, unable to keep their jaws locked upon the prize long enough for it to matter before dropping it for him to claim. ›

    ❝ I am disgraced ex-attorney Kristoph Gavin, ❞ ‹ was the reply the anonymous figure received. It was spoken with confidence, his entire demeanor relaxed as though unbothered by the verbal barrage. › ❝ I believe I was only instructed to answer one question... and thus, I have satisfied that requirement. I do hope it has satiated you as well, my spirited friend. ❞

[rpmemesiwanttosee]

Send 😶 + a really uncomfortable question and my muse has to answer it

[procksecutor]

Klavier fidgeted and toyed with his fingers when his hand no longer occupied Kristoph's. It suddenly felt raw, a need to claw his older brother's hand back into his own in fear that he may suddenly disappear. But he understood why he did it, the Prosecutor just wished he didn't have to do it.

He moved to rest against the table, resting the palms of his hands against it as he watched Kristoph's search. He felt rather disappointed with himself. How he felt as if he disappointed Kristoph. Oh dear...He didn't want to disappoint Kristoph! That's no good - first day as a free man once more, and Klavier had to disappoint the older! Shame on him! He almost wanted Kristoph to scold him, but at the same time he figured Kristoph had things all under control. How he'll take care of it. What an amazing brother!

It was like how everything had always been, back then. How he gathered the needed items was oddly nostalgic, if you could say that. It reminded him of a familiar time. A safe time. It was almost hypnotic, staring and feeling as if he belonged somewhere earlier. He's thankful for the present, though. The world keeps moving forwards, and Klavier doesn't want to hang back for that long. The familiarity, however, felt comfortable.

"I'd love to help you - ja. Anything to help you." Klavier was almost too enthusiastic, pushing off from his relaxed leaning against the table as he moved over, picking the knife up with more than enough care, not wanting to risk accidentally cutting himself or Kristoph. Especially Kristoph. He held onto the handle tightly as his palm began to warm up the typically cool metal.

"I recall clearly - I've been living alone for a while, haven't I?" Klavier laughed as he checked the blade, making sure it was sharp enough as it glimmered and shined when he held it up, "I'd be concerned if I couldn't. I'd be stuck cutting anything forever, wouldn't I?"

[toxiism]

     ‹ To watch Klavier draw the knife was to simply feed the whispers, to grow once-hushed suggestions into loud, disquieted demands. The blade was held aloft, so close to that warm, clean neck — it would take so little effort to split the throat, to sever the arteries. The screams of the past were still fresh in his mind, warped now into cries from his own brother for mercy before they were drowned out by his own blood. Then, in the blink of his eyes, everything had returned to normal with Klavier inspecting the edge as carefully as he was. Delusion had briefly painted reality, and he was not the slightest bothered by it; it was enough to make him miss the idle commentary almost entirely. ›

    ❝ For the vegetables, ❞ ‹ Kristoph had started slowly, mostly to help himself keep his mind from wandering again. › ❝ Start with the tomato. Thick slices, enough to hold up as they cook. Then onions, dice those up. And then the head. ❞

     ‹ Idly his hand had gestured to a head of cabbage that sat nearby, but the way his instructions suddenly paused did not seem to register to him until he glanced back over to it. No, that was not a head as he had perceived it — and that was when the mistake dawned on him. ›

    ❝ Apologies for the brief lapse in my instructions, ❞ ‹ he sighed as he fixed his glasses with his weaker hand, meant to convince Klavier he was simply a little disoriented. Time in isolation would do that, after all, he would just need a little time. Just a little time. › ❝ The head of cabbage, I meant to say. I would like some of the leaves pulled off, washed, and cut into strips approximately an inch wide, bitte. ❞

[procksecutor]

"I always admired you for that." Who wouldn't? In Klavier's eyes, Kristoph spoiled him much - he was certain. Even if he deemed the littlest thing to be spoiling him. Never did he take anything Kristoph did for granted, though. Not everyone had such a wonderful big brother in their life to take care of them, that'd bend over backwards for them. And so despite being a handful, he meant well.

Kristoph was what he thinks a big brother should be, so in turn he was what he thinks a little brother should be.

Of course, Klavier had to tell him that. How he admired the older Gavin - he doesn't remember if he ever said that one specifically. He said how amazing he is, how much Kristoph means to him. But now he has said that specific one. Another page added to Kristoph compliments book. Non-existent, of course - but it exists in his mind. There's so many things he'd want to say to Kristoph, all positive. But alas, to say all would be merely impossible.

"You always took such good care of me, Bruder. I hope I can take good care of you."

Because truthfully, he does want to take care of Kristoph. To show equal care and respect towards his dear older brother, in hopes to express his overflowing gratitude he could barely show as a child, and struggled to show as a 'rebellious' teen. Perhaps he didn't entirely grow out of his rebellious phase, but he grew out of it enough to be an adult and be responsible when necessary.

[toxiism]

    ❝ With any luck, you will only need to expend minimal effort to achieve the results we need. ❞

     ‹ Those words fell off his lips idly, his eyes now shifted to take a sweeping check of what was immediately apparent; his brother was not joking when he said there was very little... It was enough to make the older of the two click his tongue gently, a sign he was disappointed but moreso in a way that meant he'll take care of this. Just like big brother Kristoph always did. ›

     ‹ At some point he did slowly free his hand from Klavier's hold, the motion done a bit more obviously in order to silently convey it was necessary he gained it back for a more thorough search. Through the pantry he noted mostly canned items, potatoes, and bread — and the fridge yielded much the same spread of little assortments of various, unrelated items. It was in the freezer that he finally seemed to find a recipe in his head upon spotting some fish filets, however. ›

     ‹ It truly was like watching the Kristoph of the past work the second he knew what he would do. Ingredients were claimed and moved to a nearby countertop, two bowls, a cutting board, utensils, and a large baking sheet soon to join them. Already he pulled away to turn the oven on to preheat it, right hand then reached back to grab for a knife; he did not even touch the handle before he froze, eyes locked upon the sharp blade. ›

     ‹ A knife. A tool to cut and rend and split something whole far apart. Into smaller and smaller bits. Again. Again. Again. It was such a messy thing, little care given to surroundings — all it cared for was to dig its sharp edge deep and tear whatever was in its path apart. It was the perfect tool for that head sat upon the cutting board, wasn't it? It would ribbon so beautifully. ›

    ❝ ... Bruderherz, ❞ ‹ Kristoph muttered as he drew his hand back slowly, the muscles tensed within it. That "face" had shown up again and while his gaze remained calm, something about his eyes betrayed that he was a bit unsettled in the moment. › ❝ Do you recall how we used to chop up vegetables in the past? Would you assist me? I fear that holding a knife is... difficult, at the moment. ❞

[procksecutor]

Like a dog, he felt giddy and overjoyed at hearing that Kristoph was proud of him. What younger brother wouldn't? Hearing the big brother's praise was something any younger brother would crave. And to say he was actively trying to draw anything out compliment wise, that hit the spot like a knife being twisted. It was a feeling that felt all too real, all too merciful. It was nice. The comfort of words.

"Well if you're offering to make lunch..." Klavier trailed off. He reached excitedly for Kristoph's hand, the need for physical contact overtaking him as he guided him to the door. Sure - it didn't quite satisfy his urge to get his tears familiarized with Kristoph's shoulder as he hugged him, but it was enough to remind him how real this was.

Typically, Klavier would refuse. Say he'd make lunch instead. Typically, he'd urge the other to relax and take a load off - put the feet up and such. But this wasn't typically, and he missed Kristoph's cooking.

"I don't have much in, though I'll be sure to go shopping after our catch up."

He didn't see the point in buying so much food, after all. Klavier rarely ate much in the first place - and even now, he can't stop. But now with Kristoph living with him, he'll be sure to buy more food. And meat, he supposes he'll have to.

As he spoke he worked on unlocking the door, pushing it open before stepping aside, as if saying after you. Inside started with a hallway, a red rug accented a orange-ish yellow placed in the middle. A small cabinet was backed against the shield of the stairs with many ornaments decorating the top. A diffuser was placed at the side - undoubtedly the cause of a smell of cinnamon.

To the left was the stairs - the sides bare and smooth, whilst the middle, where one would typically walk, a black carpet was there. And in front of the stairs was a mirror, of course. Before going out, Klavier would naturally want to check his appearance one last time. Gotta keep up that 'pretty boy' appearance in public, otherwise humiliation was ensured.

To the right was the door to the living room, but the door was shut tightly - undoubtedly to keep heat in. The living room should be cozy and comfortable, not cold. Though it would be easy to deduce that was the living room as straight forwards the door was barely open, but enough to see inside the room barely - and inside was the kitchen. The cabinets and the very obvious corner of the wooden table made it obvious enough. And if that didn't, the slight hum buzz of the black fridge freezer certainly did.

[toxiism]

     ‹ It felt foreign to have his hand suddenly gripped gently, the sensation enough to make his heart jolt and slam into his ribs with a pure instinct to harm — to tear and shred that which endangered him. Yet he drew in a slow, steady inhale of frigid cold air and exhaled it just as gradually to regain his bearings before anything happened, before Klavier could become wise to what happened. It was just him. Just Klavier. Just Klavier... ›

     ‹ He busied his mind by moving his eyes once they had entered the home. Some things felt familiar, others didin't; hazy memories, or rearrangements, he could not tell the difference at this point. The coat he wore had been relocated to his shoulder for the time being as he noted a lack of hangers nearby to accept it, and by instinct he would carefully guide Klavier's hand in his own towards where he saw the kitchen to be. ›

     ‹ For a moment as he turned to observe his brother, his vision blurred over and what stood before him was a young boy. Klavier had just returned from school, ravishingly hungry because he always had P.E near the end and it worked up quite the appetite. The boy's lips parted and he said something, but the words sounded strange to him — not quite like any language he remembered. Somehow he inferred the meaning from it; he wanted a hearty dish, a comforting one. ›

     ‹ Finally he fully blinked his eyes instead of merely fluttering the lids, and the boy was gone, replaced with the young adult that had just accepted him home again. For just a moment, that damaged hand of his tensed. ›

    ❝ Having little should not matter much, ❞ ‹ replied Kristoph as he kept his breathing at a steady pace. › ❝ If there was one thing I would pride myself over above all, it was my ability to feed you no matter our financial situation. Little did it sway me if it meant I went without, so long as you were taken care of. ❞

     ‹ Warm words tumbled from his lips spoken from a place of nostalgia, but he felt nothing. It was akin to sounding off a broken bell in a crumbling church; it all rung so hollow in his heart. ›

[procksecutor]

The scar didn't go unnoticed - a permanent reminder of...That. Of a much more grim act that had happened. Though it was always something he admired Kristoph for. Kristoph was his brother first, and someone that saved him second. Third would be...Ex-Defense Attorney, but he supposes lists can go from one to two.

Klavier tilted his head, turning and tilting the paperwork, making a mental note to check it as soon as possible. Even if that task seems daunting with how much there is - but it's one of those things that has to be done. Though despite his distraction, he clearly heard the officers. But he really didn't think it'd apply to him - though he supposes he could remind Kristoph about the call. At least, that'd make himself useful.

He lifted his head from the paperwork, watching as the van drove away - finally - before looking back to his brother. Without the officers around, it felt like nothing had changed. Felt as if things remained the same, no imprisonment - and certainly no accusations of...Poisoning little girls. It felt like how things should have always been.

"Oh- Nein, I won't let their words affect me. They mean barely anything, emotion wise." Klavier spoke matter of factly, tilting his head up slightly in pride. But he wasn't attention seeking at all, though a little praise would be nice - he wouldn't argue that. After all, who doesn't like a little praise?

He soon hummed as he looked up at the sky. It was nice out, it didn't look like it would rain and the skies seemed clear enough - the only imperfection was a few clouds dotting the sky, and yet it looked over all wonderful - but damn is it cold.

"Say, would you like to go in?" Klavier finally asked with a grin, signalling to his front door as he drew his keys out of his pocket - keys that were on a less flashy, more plain keychain. They jingled as he guided the front door key into his fingers. He hadn't even gone into his house, per say. He was so desperate to see Kristoph that he wouldn't want to distract himself, "I'm sure you'd want to go where it's nice and cozy."

[toxiism]

     ‹ The older brother's gaze had turned to where the van departed from as Klavier spoke his dismissiveness to their claims; externally he simply seemed to reflect on things, but his mind was racing with a million thoughts all once. Voices whispered of betrayal - a coy hand that perhaps could play Kristoph in turn with the right words since Klavier had grown so much from that naive young boy he used to be. Louder still, other voices spoke of beginning to twist the story hard and fast, get the seeds to fester early so they could be reaped at the right time. A little dance, hopeful that all would go his way once more. ›

    ❝ It seems my concerns were misplaced, then. I am proud of you, dear Klavi. Indeed, one must always take words at arms' length and consider them against all known facts... ❞

     ‹ A changed man. He was a changed man, he would portray, and he would begin by outwardly curbing that old desire to burn out all he found to be inferior. It would make his stomach churn to let the ideations of fools run rampant, but it would not do to play his hand until every suit was his. From his wandering mind he was pulled back to reality by Klavier though, and a smile once more claimed his lips. ›

    ❝ Of course, my apologies. I did wish to speak further while inside as well... perhaps I can make some lunch for us while we catch me up on everything I have missed? It has been a while since I was permitted to be near a kitchen, but I do not believe my skills will need anything more than a simple warmup to return me to whence it had been. ❞

[procksecutor]

Klavier was about to reply - about to confirm he understands, albeit carelessly and mindlessly. As much as it's a procedure, he is aware of how it works. He may be a Prosecutor, but he'll be damned if he had never learnt about the sentences. That's like...One of the things he learnt about at Themis. However, he quickly closed his mouth once he heard Kristoph start talking.

After all, he has no right to talk when big brother is talking! What he says is very obviously more important than his entire existence - so, despite him wanting to quickly confirm which careless words, he shut up.

Not that he was bothered by this, because hearing Kristoph say such words, and an affectionate nickname, was all but disappointing. It's great, to him, how Kristoph didn't seem to forget German. It meant a lot, too. When someone doesn't know German is around, it feels like their own secret language. Klavier adores it so much.

"Oh! Bruder, du bist nicht verrückt! Obwohl ich nicht sagen kann, dass es mir nicht genauso geht..." Klavier chuckled, tilting his head in Kristoph's direction and only speaking once he knew he was in the clear. Once he was certain it was good to talk again.

"Ach...But don't worry officers, I understand fully. Don't tell me he has to be in bed by 8, too."

It was a joke he couldn't help but slip in.

Despite Kristoph's words being all the response Klavier thought was needed, he would still confirm his own understanding. After all, they needed verbal confirmation from him. It was a pain - Kristoph's words were enough, and yet they needed his word! What an eye roller!!

However, knowing Kristoph couldn't practice law again is more than heart shattering. He'd never be able to face his brother in court, never get to see him behind the Defense desk from the Prosecution desk - but he mustn't linger on such a thing. That thought is...Grim.

[toxiism]

     ‹ The German spoken in return to Kristoph did cause his smile to subtly pick up, eyes lidded just that tiny bit more as he contemplated them. Klavier... What a good little dog, he was; a good dog ready to bark and bite at anyone that threatened Kristoph. This would be delightful, and would prove to be the weapon in his corner he would need to finally put an end to everything. For now though, he must bide his time, and that began with allowing the officers to undo his cuffs after they gave an irritated sigh towards the prosecutor. ›

     ‹ As the handcuffs clicked off and freed the elder brother's wrists, he instinctively reached his left hand to rub across the right wrist — and with that gesture Klavier could see that old scar still there, the muscles blessedly relaxed for now. The smaller officer would produce a manilla slip chock full of paperwork that was handed off to Klavier while the larger one moved to close the van's transport door. ›

    ❝ Alright. The parole officer will give you a call tonight to confirm the number we have on file for you is still valid. If Kristoph gets a phone, you'll need to provide his number to her immediately. And... that's it, I guess. Let's hope they were right about you, Kristoph... ❞

     ‹ With those parting words left with the brothers, the officers would clamber back into the van and set off without hesitation, leaving the two of them alone for the first time since his arrival. ›

    ❝ Do not let their words affect you, Bruderherz, ❞ ‹ Kristoph would begin in his composed tone, eyes now shifted to catch Klavier's own. › ❝ Their sentiments have the same weight as but a few grains of sand, their paranoia clouding their judgment. A shame... but it matters not. I am home once more, with my dear brother. There is nothing more I could ask for in this world. ❞

     ‹ Well, besides the deaths of a certain couple of attorneys, but that was never something he would share. No, he would finely craft this perfect image of Klavier being the only thing he cared for, just like it had always been before the incarceration. Klavier would soon come to need him, just like old times. ›

[toxiism]

    「 Some unassorted but important headcanons I've been thinking about. Making this post so I can get these jotted down while I still remember them. 」

   » Kristoph was not always sadistic. — It isn't entirely clear when he started descending into madness and developing a twisted taste for murder and blackmail, but it can be said that at one point in time, Kristoph was a genuinely kind man. He was best known for being the man who nearly single-handedly raised his younger brother Klavier when their parents were out of the picture, and for a while seemed to work hard to ensure his sibling wanted for nothing. This made his eventual downfall so much more tragic and harder to see coming, since he truly had a good reputation before it all was left to burn upon the metaphorical bridge he crossed.

   » The scar on his hand is an old wound. — His infamous "demon face" scar on his right hand was actually the product of an injury he sustained many years ago. A few months before Klavier's debut as a prosecutor, an intruder broke into the Gavin home in the middle of the night while Klavier slumbered and Kristoph worked away on a case. Kristoph heard them enter and went to confront them, where a violent altercation broke out that saw the intruder drive a knife through Kristoph's right hand, pinning it to a wooden dish cabinet. In a sudden rage, Kristoph yanked the knife clean out of the cabinet and his hand and used it to slash the intruder's throat, killing them.

For months his wounded hand was nearly impossible to use and frequently spasmed or seized up, leaving him in pain and forcing him to learn how to go about his life with his left hand. While it eventually healed back into a useable state, muscle tension — especially tension caused by stress — will cause the "demon face" to emerge. However, some rumours float around that this feels like an ironic branding of sorts, as some psychologists believe his murder of the intruder acted as a catalyst for his taste for the sadistic.

   » When stressed, he cleans or rearranges things. — It's been a habit for as long as he could remember, given he ran the Gavin household for the longest time. When he is feeling stressed or otherwise unwell, he channels a lot of that energy into one of two things; either he will clean an area from top to bottom thoroughly, or he will fix up/rearrange items until they're neatly organized. It is not recommended to try and distract him with anything unless it's important, because otherwise he will become quite irritable.

   » After incarceration, he became a writer. — It's not something he talks about though as all his works are published under a pen name that has any possible ties back to him fully obscured. It's probably for the better too, because he writes murder mystery novels that people find are "incredible well-written, and eerily well-researched" as they serve as a means to indulge in scenarios he otherwise cannot do anymore. The only person who might be aware of this hobby is Klavier, though Kristoph knows his brother won't speak on this if he knows what's good for himself.

[procksecutor]

Klavier didn't know how long he'd been waiting - he wouldn't dare even look at his phone. He didn't want to miss seeing that van. Not even for a moment. And when it pulled up, he had to force down a physical reaction. The only reaction which he couldn't suppress was his legs. They trembled like leaves - it felt like he was about to faint. This is real. This is happening, truly. It's so hard to ignore how he feels, the whirlwind of emotions becoming overwhelming.

He didn't process the officers words - how could he when he saw him step out. In the flesh. It adds to him realizing this isn't a dream, nor a masquerade trick. Finally, he is seeing Kristoph once more. And despite himself and the harsh words he had once spoken, he couldn't help but feel the overwhelming need to hug him. To wrap his arms around big brother and cry against his chest, seeking the familiar comfort he had been longing for.

But, he wouldn't. Not now. He'd hate to risk embarrassing Kristoph.

"What are brothers for...?" Klavier spoke, his voice quiet and small. He shoved his hands in his pockets to force himself to calm himself. To remind himself he must remain professional for now. He could never forget that voice - in court, it was so bittersweet. More bitter, then anything else. But now it was like honey - sweet as can be. A taste he forgot how much he missed. The kindness in the tone was suffocating, and it was almost overwhelming for Klavier.

"You look great, Kristoph." He always did, to Klavier.

Though he was soon brought back to his senses by the familiar voice of the smaller officer. He hummed briefly, giving a nod as he glanced to him. The glance was only brief though, as he looked back at Kristoph promptly after.

"Right - I'm. I'm ready." Very ready. As ready as he physically could be. But again, he has to control himself and not be dramatic.

[toxiism]

     ‹ As the display between the brothers unfolded, the two officers could not hide the waves of fear that set like stones in the pits of their stomachs, particularly weary glances given to Klavier who seemed all too enthusiastic to offer his home to a heartless murderer. Still, they had to get this over with, so the smaller of the two would clear his throat — and by extension, the dread that settled there — so that he might speak and lay everything out. ›

    ❝ Right. Well... Foremost, he is not to consume alcohol, have possession of non-prescribed drugs of any kind at any time, and may not possess a firearm of any kind for any reason. Until further notice, he is to remain under house arrest with daily phone calls to his parole officer to check in. He will undergo random drug testing, which may or may not come with prior warning. ❞

     ‹ As the man spoke, Kristoph merely kept his eyes upon them; his body language was unreadable, his expression relaxed as he took in their words for what felt like the fifth time in a week. This, however, unnerved the larger officer who adjusted his stance, hands now untucked from beneath his vest to sit at the ready on his own belt. ›

    ❝ Of greatest importance is that Kristoph cannot ever hold a job in the field of law enforcement again, no matter what that position may be, ❞ ‹ the smaller man continued. › ❝ If he is caught violating these terms, or if he breaks any other laws during his parole, he will have a warrant issued for his arrest effective immediately, no second chances. You'll receive a copy of all the paperwork for your own reference, as well. Are we clear? ❞

     ‹ Before Klavier could answer, Kristoph's soft chuckle could be heard from deep in his chest, his eyes lit up with a kind of delight — a look that Klavier had always seen when he felt entirely unbothered by something. ›

    ❝ You doubt the comprehension skills of my Bruderherz, Klavi? ❞ ‹ Kristoph spoke calmly, earning the officers' glances of sheer annoyance and ire. › ❝ My, you treat him as if he is but a little boy on his first day. Ich glaube ich spinne. ❞

     ‹ The German lessons with Klavier never faded, it seemed, and had become almost a second nature to him to use in the moment. If nothing else, it was fun to see the officers writhe with uncertainty. ›

    ❝ It's just procedure, ❞ ‹ snapped the larger officer before he turned to Klavier, though Kristoph did not seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, he almost seemed amused by the behavior. › ❝ We just need verbal confirmation for the record that everything was understood. ❞

[toxiism]

                                                          ► [ & so it began, the beginning to an end ]                                                           [ @procksecutor ]

     ‹ Klavier was the first to arrive to a barren driveway, devoid of any signs of the caller's promised van — and for a few minutes more it would perhaps begin to feel like a terrible dream, given no updates had been forthcoming since. Eventually however, a distant crackle of pavement rubble beneath heavy-duty tires could be heard nearing the prosecutor's location, its source easily seen to be a heavy-duty police transport van. So the call wasn't a prank, and this wasn't a dream... ›

     ‹ The vehicle would pull to a stop at the entrance to Klavier's driveway, a door on the passenger's side opening to reveal a tall, muscular man dressed head to toe in protective tactical gear — a man concerned for his safety around the criminal he hauled, and with a dark expression that read as equal parts concern and disgust. He moved towards the van's rear door before he paused just beside it, head now turned to Klavier; all the while, another heavily-geared officer joined him at his side, mirroring the tense, uncertain energy his partner radiated. ›

    ❝ He's all yours, ❞ ‹ was all the leader of the duo would say before he pulled back the sliding door. The dark interior made it difficult to see, but such would not be a problem for long with its occupant opting to make a swift but calm exit at the nearly-forceful behest of the escorting officers. ›

     ‹ Once the officers stepped aside, it could no longer be denied; there, in the flesh, stood Kristoph Gavin with hands cuffed behind his back yet, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder to rest. It was... picture-perfect; Kristoph's face held nary a wrinkle to it, his half-lidded and gentle eyes as sweet as they always had been, his smile having sat steadily on his face the moment it became visible. It were as if time had failed to leave a dent in him, his time in jail simply shrugged off his shoulders with ease. ›

    ❝ My dearest brother... Klavier... ❞ ‹ uttered Kristoph with such a kind tone — it was all too easy to forget his horrific and chilling outburst so long ago with how he spoke now. › ❝ To welcome me so easily... Truly, I am blessed. ❞

    ❝ Don't run off just yet, either of you, ❞ ‹ spoke the smaller of the two officers, the one who presumably called earlier given his voice was a match to the one who broke the news. › ❝ When you're ready, we need to discuss the terms of his parole with you, so you're on the same page as the rest of us. ❞