Kiernan Manley (wingsofwyverns) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-31 10:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, kiernan manley, lavitz fon amell |
Who: Kiernan Manley & Lavitz fon Amell
What: Lavitz goes to Kiernan. Kiernan gets pissed.
Where: Kiernan's place
When: This afternoon, after this
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
It was colder outside than it should’ve been. The breeze that had been like a friendly lick of cool air felt more bitter, more unforgiving than it had been not four hours ago, sliding underneath scarves and chilling ungloved fingers. Colder, like a punishment. Somehow, Lavitz ended up at Kiernan’s doorstep on numb legs, fingers stiff from cold. His quiet knock might’ve been painful had he registered the sensation, but there had been nothing to feel since leaving Shieldwyrm. Nothing but hollowness and a cold that lingered deep beneath his skin, deeper than any wind could inflict. Why he had turned up at his friend’s door and for what, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that he didn’t know where to be. Kiernan almost missed the knock. It’d been soft, and he had been ready to go back up to his room and had just placed his foot on the first step. He wasn’t sure if it had been his imagination or not, but hell, there had never been any harm in checking. When he pulled open the door, though, his brows knitted together with concern. “Lav?” His friend looked lost, dazed, and absent, and Kiernan was too acquainted with this side of his friend. He stepped aside and grabbed Lavitz’s shoulder, ushering him inside. “Are you okay? What’s up?” The questions went unanswered at first, as the other dragoon allowed himself to be maneuvered like a marionette, coming to stop only when Kiernan set him in place. The absent look in his expression remained, however, not the look of a man seeking how to say the words but someone who knew them and simply didn’t want to speak. He did, anyway. “Leola’s dead,” came the quiet admission. Kiernan barely had the door closed when Lavitz said those words. He froze in place, processing the words and going over them over and over again before it seemed unreal, before turning to Lavitz. His mouth was hung open ajar, his eyes filled with bewilderment. “What?” he asked, slowly. “What do you mean she’s--” He shook his head. “How? When?” A beat. “Are you okay?” Obviously not, but anything to get his friend not to hold any emotions he was feeling, or trying not to feel, in. For the second time, that particular question went ignored, but not on purpose. As the warmth began to prickle along his hands, Lavitz absently moved his stiff fingers. “Drowned last night. They found her at the docks this morning,” he explained, not appearing particularly alert or even alarmed. He’d accepted her death hours ago, long before he’d ended up at the other man’s door. And they think that I did it. “Shit,” Kiernan murmured. “Aw, shit.” He pursed his lips and gripped Lavitz’s shoulder, leading him towards a nearby couch. After they were both seated, Kiernan stared at his clasped hands a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. “Shit, I’m… I’m sorry.” He knew that Lavitz and Leola had been estranged since Nowe’s death, but he also knew Lavitz, and he knew Lavitz never wished ill on her. Rather, Lavitz wished more ill on himself than he seemed capable of wishing on anyone else. But Leola, drowned? “Was it a…?” He let the sentence trail off, unsure of how to best word the question. “You know?” The taller dragoon settled both hands on his thighs, palms to the ceiling, and dropped his gaze to admire the lines there, as if they were far more interesting than the topic at hand. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice still quiet. “I should’ve seen it coming. I thought I could…” Keep her safe. “And now I can’t tell her that I’m sorry.” He dug his nails into his palms. “It’s my fault. The EKP probably already suspect me, so I should confess and be done with it. Then no one else has to die.” Die because of me. The thoughts that raced through Kiernan’s mind came to a screeching halt. It wasn’t long before the shock erupted into anger. “Wait. WHAT?!” Kiernan jumped to his feet. “They WHAT? Why would they think that? Have they gone completely-- WHAT? But… you didn’t do anything! Don’t you be confessing to something you didn’t do! That’s bullshit. What in Faram’s name makes them think that you had anything to do with it?” His outburst, sudden and angry as it was, only served to highlight the quiet, calm manner in which Lavitz sat, eyes looking to anything but his friend. While it seemed natural to say nothing, the words tumbled out, sounding as if he already had himself convinced of his guilt. (Because if anyone believed, above all, that he was the one responsible, it was him.) “We met last night, hours before she died. I was probably the last person to see her alive. She was—” He paused, struggling with speech at last. “They found her at the docks where Cordelia died.” That earlier cold began to resettled in his chest. “She drowned too, Kiernan. They never figured out how.” The first thought to cross Kiernan’s mind in that instant was, Someone is out to get you. It was too coincidental, too fucking obvious, and he wanted to hunt down whoever was behind this. Would it be Lavitz’s own family? No, it couldn’t be. While they were the only people Kiernan could think of who were less to Lavitz than the man deserved, he couldn’t fathom them trying to pull something like this. Something about the nobilities and scandals. But then, who else? One thing for certain, though: Kiernan knew Lavitz had nothing to do with it. He couldn’t have had anything to do with it. If Faram existed, this was, perhaps, that demented god’s sick idea of a fun little joke. “But… you’re innocent. You know you are. I know you are. And they must know you are, if any of them are worth their salt.” He nearly spat the words. “I mean, they… they haven’t arrested you.” Kiernan wasn’t too sure how the process worked, but he doubted suspects were allowed to go free like this very often, especially ones who had a dragon to call at whim. Under any other circumstance, Kiernan’s resolve would’ve been enough to ease the guilt, to give him that tiny sliver of hope that would get him back on the road to what he’d been before the news. But Leola dead— that was too much, and Lavitz didn’t know how to react, how to say the right things anymore. So instead, he dropped both elbows onto his knees, palms pressing to his temples. When it seemed like he was going to remain silent, he finally spoke, the tired defeat clear. “It’s better for everyone if I just confess.” “Better for who? Not Leola, not Cordelia, not you, not me, or Mag. Shit, this won’t even be better for your family, not that they deserve anything from you.” Then Kiernan let out a grunt of frustration as he fell back down to the couch. He gave himself a few moments to let the anger alleviate -- not completely, but just enough. “Look, if Leola was killed, and you confess, then the real murderer is still out there. It won’t do anybody any good. Why are you so fucking intent on taking on the guilt for this?” In truth, Kiernan knew. It was the same reason why, a few months ago, Lavitz tried to take his own life, and here he was, ready to throw it all away again. The thought alone was enough to let the rage return. But next to him, a mere foot from him, Lavitz couldn’t be angry, couldn’t be anything but fiercely, stubbornly convinced that everything that had happened to the people he loved was his fault. Cordelia’s drowning, Jozlyn’s death in childbirth, Nowe’s throat being cut— all of it because of him. Every time something good happened, karma took it away from him. And now Leola was dead, and he had one way to fix everything. “Because you all deserve better than me,” he admitted, at last. “Don’t. You. Dare.” Kiernan jabbed a finger in Lavitz’s chest. “I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I’m not the dullest, either. We’re friends because we are worth each other; if we weren’t, we’d hate each other’s fucking guts. And I’m not the type of guy to pretend to like someone I hate. You’ve known me long enough to know that. So get that thought out of your head.” Not that Kiernan believed that Lavitz would, in this moment, but damn if he didn’t wish it would. “You didn’t do it. And I’m pretty sure the EKP doesn’t want to throw an innocent man in prison no matter the reasons. At least, I hope they don’t.” Kiernan lifted the corners of his mouth into a smile to show that he was joking, but he heard the flatness of it even to his own ears, and he sighed and let the grin drop. “Look, I don’t want you to go to jail. Fucking hell, Lav, you have an alibi or something, don’t you?” An alibi. The word all on its own had Lavitz shifting, nearly folding in on himself as if somehow, it would make him feel better. It didn’t. “She could have died within minutes of me leaving her at the docks. It doesn’t matter if anyone saw me at the estate, which they didn’t, because I spend most of my time at the guesthouse with Zelda and the puppies.” Bram had been right: it didn’t look good, and he was making it sound worse. When he spoke next, the words felt thick in his throat. “I wanted to keep her safe for Nowe. I thought I could make up for not being able to save him by watching over her, but it was…” Rather than finishing, he sighed. It was stupid to think I could. “Wait, so when you last saw her, you were both at the… shit.” No wonder the EKP suspected Lavitz; it was the perfect frame job. Kiernan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting Lavitz continue to speak before he trailed off, giving Kiernan a window to interject. “Lav, it was never your responsibility to-- I understand the sentiment but… you have to forgive yourself. The more you play the blame game with yourself the harder it’s going to be to prove your innocence. This isn’t what Nowe would want and you know it.” Truer words had never been spoken. Nowe Vancoor had been an understanding, sympathetic sort, someone who would have never, not once, blamed Lavitz for not doing enough or even for not being able to yank him from the clutches of death— but Nowe was dead and buried, and Lavitz was tired of hearing about the expectations of the dead when his family thrust them upon him enough. He tucked himself into the crook of one arm and said nothing. Kiernan let the long silence ensue. Finally, he asked, almost tentatively, “So, what’s going to happen next? They let you go.” It would’ve been too convenient to allow the silence to linger for too long, but Lavitz was hardly surprised when it was interrupted. His back heaved with a sigh. “I don’t know. I wait until they slap handcuffs on me.” “They’re not going to arrest you,” Kiernan muttered, though he had trouble convincing himself. I’m not going to let them. But what good would that do, in the end? It would only serve to condemn Lavitz, not help him, if Kiernan told him to shack up here so he could fight off the EKP with Lucy. It was truly a fool’s idea. Kiernan let another stretch of silence settle between them before he patted a hand on Lavitz’s knee. He stared, waiting to see if Lavitz would make eye contact with him, and said, “You’ll be okay. No matter what happens, in the end, you’ll be okay.” You’ve got to be. But earnest as the words were, Lavitz couldn’t believe them, couldn’t bring himself to meet his friend’s eyes in fear of letting him down as he’d let himself down. The touch had brought him back, just enough to utter a soft “We’ll see” before he leaned back up, hands drawing away. He settled his gaze on the floor. “Can I stay here for a while longer?” His family were the last people he wanted to see. “As long as you want,” Kiernan promised. Forever if you have to were the words he had to bite back -- that was perhaps a little too far and a little too girly, but the sentiment was true. “Let’s get you something to drink.” |