((OOC: This is a canon update, in case anyone didn't know. Obviously, all the spoilers ever. There's a looot of stuff to cover here, hence the short vignettes. Feel free to hop in somewhere, and I'll flesh more out in Vincent's responses, if you'd like! And feel free to... not like him anymore, or something. XP))



It starts with a sick sort of hurtling feeling, everything moving too fast and there’s no way to slow down or calm down or affect anything. There’s no room here for regret, or even for breath, no space for anything but constant movement, constant change.

One moment, he’s standing with Gilbert, speaking, and the next he’s hurtled forward, standing in the midst of a gathering of cloaked figures, their attention him, the voices impossible to understand by word but quite familiar to his ears.

Baskervilles.

He relaxes, comfortable in their presence, and steps around the circle, responding to each person as they speak, his fingers reaching out to graze a hand (or elsewhere, in Lotti’s case) as he moves, greeting his companions easily. His own voice is just as unintelligible, in the dream, but his tones are silky smooth, always.

~*~

There’s a certain feeling to it, moving quickly away from the scene of the crime, but without panic or guilt. There’s nothing to feel guilty about, because he has his reasons, and the heads that rolled were nothing at all important, this time. No need to feel guilty, as he heads away from the estate, as he leaves behind the dead.

Just a sorcerer, anyway.

Another sealing stone, down.

His boots ring out against the ground as he leaves it all behind.

~*~

The young woman before him is wide-eyed, young, her green gaze fixed on his face in such a way that says she’s hanging on his every word.

He walks beside her, takes her arm, smiles at her.

“Let’s go for a walk, Miss Ada.”

And the smile on his face nearly hurts, but that’s perfectly all right. It keeps him focused as she begins to speak.

~*~

There’s blood on his brother’s face.
(His brother, Elliot, not Gilbert, and yet that feeling of pain is there, is sharp within him and he wants to say something, but there’s nothing to be done.)

The regret is heavy, on his face, in his voice.

“At this point, even if you should manage to defeat your chain, there would be no way to save you.”

There’s blood everywhere.

There’s no way to save Elliot.

There’s no way.

There’s nothing he can do but stand and watch, and he does, with heavy heart.

“I would have supported you.”

~*~

It’s a familiar place, a familiar feeling. Standing before the Duke and two of his men, on the other side of that desk. There’s nothing upsetting about the scene itself, and again, the words seem far away, not quite audible.

Until.

“Don’t insult Elliot when you don’t know the first thing about his death.”

The words carry, echo, lift.

More words follow, but indistinct again, and it doesn’t matter, because it’s all lost in blood.

Blood and blood and blood, and heads rolling across the ground, rolling and rolling in a way that they didn’t in life, don’t.

~*~

The chain is all that can be seen, here, just standing there, wings spread, blood
dripping along bone.




The voice is soft, coming from somewhere unseen, but unmistakeably Vincent’s.

“It’s all right, Gil. I’ll give you a world without me, yet... just wait a little longer...”



[The man doesn't wake, but the Hitomi does show a strange scene, Vincent fully dressed and curled at the foot of a bed, both arms wrapped around someone's legs. Whoever the someone is, all that can be seen of them is a pile of blankets with messy black hair sticking out. Then the feed cuts out.]