._Logue's Raevan

[Logue]

❝ Sæglópur ❞
PART TWO

January 30th, 2015

"I think George is gettin' sick." The old man - god, he probably should have asked his name by now - shuffled his feet where he stood, watching his dog. He sounded sad.

Yves watched George from a couple feet away, as per their unspoken agreement. George was always watching, and although he liked his owner quite a bit, he was very wary of others and fiercely protective of his master. He acted like a wild animal, and that made Yves worried. He knew he wouldn't be able to whisk George to an animal hospital anytime soon without the help of sedatives and possibly Animal Control, but he still would watch the dog cough and worry.

"Perhaps he has a cold?" he offered, expression stony. Yves was no veterinarian - that was one job he knew he wouldn't be able to do. The thought of needing to put an animal down was too much. It was ironic that he ended up here, with the lab.

George had certainly seen better days. Yves had been observing the two of them for a while, now; the old man was strong, he could see it. He was smart and he did get by, just like he'd said. His dog was strong, too, and seemed incredibly smart. But he was old, too. The years were always harder on a dog.

Standing there, in the cold, Yves wondered if he could go and grab George a blanket without bothering him too much. The dog was relaxed for the moment, but deep down, he did know better - it wasn't gonna happen.

As it usually went, their time together was laced with mostly sitting or standing in silence, with bits of conversation here and there. Yves liked to think and the man didn't seem to want to talk too much, either. Finally, he looked over at Yves, green eyes narrowing against the sunlight. "Ain't you got any friends?"

Yves stared back at him, his mind racing to decide if it wanted to be offended or amused. He furrowed his thick, dark brows and scoffed. "What a question! Do I have friends? Of course. Do you? Any old fellas at the nursing home?"

Hector opened his mouth to retort, before his expression twisted into a look of surprise and amusement.

"Did you just -- are you callin' me old, you little punk?"

Yves stifled a laugh and covered his mouth. "A-ah, um... well, you... er..." He looked helplessly at George, who offered no assistance whatsoever. He wondered why he'd expected anything different.

"It's Hector," he suddenly said, reaching under his fur-trimmed hood to scratch at his peppered hair. "Hector and George. Can't believe you never even asked for my name, what a punk." Yves grew red again.

"Oh, I am so sorry, monsieur. You know, I've had a lot on my mind! And it hasn't been easy, so..."

"Yeah?" Hector asked. Yves closed his mouth and felt immediately ashamed for his childishness - acting like he had it hard, compared to Hector. Hector only shrugged a shoulder and stooped down to pet his dog. "Well, nobody's got it easy, I suppose."

George tensed to growl at a pair of passerby that had wandered too close, and Hector held him back by the fur on his neck. "Easy, boy," he murmured, and when George dissolved into a fit of coughs, Yves saw his expression shift to worry.  

[Logue]

❝ Sæglópur ❞
PART THREE

February 9th, 2015

It was cold, and Yves had grown accustomed to standing outside in it. As if on cue, Hector and George would pass by his shop twice; once in the morning, and again right after closing. Yves would go out and stand with them once he had flipped the sign and locked the door; he had begun to really look forward to their talks, whether they were brief or the old man and his dog hung around for longer.

Today, when Hector and George stopped by, Yves asked them to wait a moment before ducking into the nearest coffee shop. When he returned, he had two large coffees, one in each hand. He extended one toward Hector.

Hector stared down at it, frowning. "What's this for?" he asked, almost suspiciously.

"It's coffee?" Yves raised a brow. "And it is cold out! Go on, I already paid for it, so just take it. It's my birthday tomorrow, call it a present." Hector sighed but took the coffee in both hands, holding it and appreciating the warmth. Still, he cast Yves a weary stare. "That's... not how birthdays work. But happy birthday, in case I don't see ya. And you didn't have to do this, I didn't... I don't want charity, you know."

Yves rolled his eyes. "I know, this is not --" he made quotation marks with his fingers, "Charity. I... I'm done trying to save you, I guess."

Half-turning, Hector looked at him with surprise. Slowly his face split into a grin. "Wow. You're a pretty dramatic fella. You in love with me or somethin'?"

Yves nearly spit his coffee out. Flustered, he gasped, "What?"

Hector laughed. "Whoa! Haha. Sorry I asked. Anyway, I always knew you were tryin' to do good by us, but it sounded pretty patronizing, you know?" He held his coffee to his mouth and tested it. "Damn, that's bitter. Not even a little sweet?" Yves scratched his chin, feeling awkward suddenly.

"What? You looked like the type of man who likes his coffee black. I'm sorry, I could not ask or you would know." He chuckled and looked at the ground, past his own coffee. "So... you knew I was using you, in a way," he murmured.

Hector shrugged, closing his eyes and taking a sip. "Well, it felt kinda like you were. You know, give to the poor, feel better for it. Like the people who're buyin' me sandwiches and junk outta the blue. Do I sit out there with a sign on my forehead or somethin'?" He pointed to his forehead. "I sure as hell don't have any cardboard, so..."

Yves crossed his arms. He had never considered that Hector had never needed his help to begin with. He'd just seen him as someone who had failed in helping himself, somehow, and who needed guidance or assistance. Thinking of it that way, he knew he'd been stupid, naive... patronizing. He still had a lot to learn about people.

In many ways, Yves had surprised himself these past months. He had always been known as the kind of person to always be willing to help, but he had also been firm in his belief that one should reach a point where they can help themselves. Hector's stubborn refusal of his "help" should have been left at that - Yves should have respected it, but maybe it was different because an animal was involved. He never had suspected that Hector was neglecting George, but he really, really wanted to wash behind those fluffy ears.

No matter how he tried to twist it, Yves had jumped to conclusions. He'd been wrong about Hector. He had been a fool, simply put. A judgmental fool.

"Hey."

George the dog looked up at Yves, and Yves looked down at him, but he was talking to Hector. "Listen. I'm... sorry."

Hector looked down at his dog with sad eyes. George's cough got worse every time Yves saw them, but George was stubborn and always stood on edge and alert around them. He was losing weight, too. Yves knew it didn't look good, but he never expressed that sentiment to Hector.

"I'm sorry, too, kid."

Yves had a feeling neither of them were referring to anything but the aging dog at their feet at that point. He drew his scarf closer to his chin.

"It's Yves."

"Oh."

Hector blew on his coffee. They both stood and watched George in silence for a while after that.  

[Logue]

❝ Sæglópur ❞
PART FOUR

February 23rd, 2015

"I've been avoidin' it for a while."

They were sitting against the wall of the Pet Parlor; Hector and Yves, with George lying at their feet. Yves still wasn't allowed to touch George, and he doubted he ever would be able to. George breathed slowly, his breaths raspy. Yves turned his head and closed his eyes for several seconds, finally opening them to look at Hector. In both hands he held his soul bottle, turning it this way and that. It caught the light and glinted sunlight onto the sidewalk. "Avoiding what?"

"You know." Hector motioned toward George with his chin. "He's... been sick for a long time. You know, I've had him for over eleven years, now. Some days I dunno what keeps him going."

"Oh." Yves looked down at George and studied him. Hector had just voiced his own worries for the dog, and it was depressing. "I... I think he might be a husky," he said, thoughtfully. "He really looks like a husky."

Hector gave him a crooked grin. "Don't gotta change the subject for my sake. I've been preparing for this for a while, now. It's not gonna be easy to let him go, though."

Yves held his soul bottle up to his lips and closed his eyes. "No... no, it won't be," he mused, feeling like his stomach might twist itself up into a black knot. There was nothing worse than watching an animal slowly die. "Hey, how old are you? If you don't mind me asking."

Hector grinned again. "How old you think I am?"

Yves pursed his lips and lowered the soul bottle into his lap. "Umm.... ninety?"

Hector guffawed, then slapped a hand against Yves' back. "
"Er, I suppose that isn't old, is it?" Once again, his true naivete had shown through. They lived two very different lives; it was not a surprise, then, that Hector's experiences had aged him beyond his years.

"You would look younger if you shaved," he announced, and was met with a gentle whack to the back of his head. He laughed.  

[Logue]

❝ Sæglópur ❞
PART FIVE

March 5th, 2015

"Livin' off the land isn't so hard. Lots of people do it for fun. Camping, hiking." Hector rubbed his chin, giving his stubble an idle scratch. Yves wondered when he'd shaved, a hint of amusement creeping into a smile.

"Hey, kid, what's that bottle you're always holdin'? Some kinda family heirloom?" Hector added, eyes curious.

Yves held up his soul bottle, empty as it had ever been. He considered, then held it out for Hector to hold. "Er, it... is hard to explain, but I'll try. This is called a soul bottle." Hector raised a dubious brow. "Yes, I know, it sounds... weird. But just bear with me."

He pointed out the monochromatic cloth wrapped around the glass. "You see this? It tells the bottle what kind of soul it is allowed to attract. Something that falls under these colors. So nothing bright pink, no flamingos or anything like that."

Hector turned the bottle around and around, face scrunching up. "What the hell you wantin' to steal a soul for?" he asked, eyeing Yves suspiciously. Yves tried to smile, but it was forced.

"Perhaps I should show you the other piece," he offered, and reached down into his messenger bag to retrieve his fel essence. The Living Bone sat in its bottle, another sizable object to have to haul around, and he handed that to Hector, too. "This is a fel essence - in short, it is something that should not exist in this world, but does."

Hector frowned, holding both bottles in his lap. "It's a bone." Suddenly his lip curled and he waved the bottle toward George with a light whistle. "Here bo --"

"Yes, but it is a living bone," Yves snapped, reaching for the container. Hector laughed and held it away from him. Yves huffed out a breath and continued.

"You see, if I were to break this bone and keep the pieces close enough, it would mend itself back together. It is alive, somehow."

Raising his brows, Hector mumbled a 'huh' and handed the fel essence back to Yves. He still kept the soul bottle in his lap. "That's creepy, kid."

Yves chuckled. "Oui, it is. But with that fel essence, and once I acquire a soul within that soul bottle, something amazing will happen."

"So... why're you carrying it around all the time?" Hector prodded. Yves sighed. "I cannot bring myself to harm anything to gather a soul, so... well, it could be a rock, or even a plant, so I just bring it with me now to... well, alright," he stammered, gesturing with his hands. "Okay, at first I was afraid to leave it alone. Now, I just wish it would gather something so I don't have to... you know."

Kill something.

Hector leaned forward to pet George, who stirred only slightly and let out a wheezy sigh. His health had been deteriorating fast. Hector always watched over him, tending to him when he coughed and making sure his water dish was always full. It was growing warmer and George seemed more comfortable, at least. Yves had been grateful to finally ditch his huge coat and scarf.

"You see, I signed up to become a guardian of what would come of this fel essence and soul. The creature whose soul I capture... well," he paused, biting his thumb. "It doesn't have to be a creature, but if it were a living being, it would be essentially reborn in a laboratory, and I would be responsible for it from then on."

"Reborn?" Hector asked, quietly. His shift in tone caused Yves to stare at him out of the corner of his eye, before his gaze traveled to the dog sitting at their feet.

George's tail lifted a little in a feeble wag.  

[Logue]

❝ Sæglópur ❞
PART SIX

June 29th, 2015

George was gray and white.

Yves stared out his store window at the rain. It had warmed up quite a bit over the past week or so, but it was nice to have a bit of rain in-between the hot spells. Yves worried the hem of his shirt and thought about George. He hoped he'd had enough water today.

It was the rain that had revealed George's colors to him. As the pair walked by, Yves could clearly see the markings of what appeared to be... he didn't know, a husky? Something akin to that, on George's coat. As always, George was trucking right along, although his health continued to deteriorate by the day.

On their way back from wherever they went, Yves leaned out the door and called out to them.

"Ah! Monsieur Hector!" Hector and George stopped, a crooked smile slipping onto Hector's face. He looked tired. "Hey, kid."

Idette had pointed out sometime ago that Yves had been spending a lot of time at work. She had dropped by his home with her husband more than once to find him away, and more often than not it was because he was here, lingering. Oddly enough, Yves hadn't felt like he had been missing much by remaining there, waiting for Hector and George. He'd known he didn't have a ton of friends, what with his busy schedule and obligation to his animals (who would watch Animal Planet with Bubs?), but he'd received very few texts or calls asking where he was or if he was going to make it to the bar that night.

Idette worried, of course, and wondered. His parents always kept up to date with his life, and his grandparents. But that was how it had always been - family first. So when Yves began to realize he was putting that off, too, and sticking around to chatter with an old man and his dog, he was surprised with himself again.

No, he hadn't become depressed and reclusive, he'd told Idette. Yes, he was taking care of himself, Peanut always made sure he got up on time to feed the small dog, at least. He had a friend he needed to help, he insisted. Even at the bar after work, when Yves was staring into a drink and surrounded by loud, happy men, his mind was filled with thoughts of the duo and how they were doing.

He was doing it again. He knew he was. But it was different this time. He wasn't going to save Hector. He was just going to be there for him in his time of need, which seemed to creep closer and closer at an alarming rate.

Yves stood back and gestured to them. "Please, come in. The rain is dismal." In the past, Hector probably would have refused his invitation - something about his strange need for independence and privacy, or whatever he was on about. But they had known each other for a minute, and Hector only hesitated for a few beats before accepting and ducking into the store.

Once inside, he looked around. "Huh, this is pretty nice," he mused, leaning down to look at the stack of magazines Yves had placed neatly on an end table. "You own this place, huh? Can't believe I've been walkin' by here for months and never saw the inside."

Yves beamed. "Oui! Animals are my passion. Well, that and music." Hector raised a brow at him. "What? Anyway, this is my home away from home. We closed half an hour ago, but I always stay late to..." He trailed off, smile flickering. He scratched his neck and gestured outward. "Um, so what do you think? Perhaps you can finally give George that bath he always needed?"

Hector sighed and rubbed his shoulder. He always looked so calm, Yves thought, but sometimes he could see how stressed he was. He insisted, "Please... please, Hector. He deserves it. A warm bath will help his aching bones." Hector looked up, startled, when Yves had placed a hand on his shoulder. "And it is not for me," he added, voice gentle but stern.

Hector looked down at the floor. George was standing obediently by him, looking up at him with calm eyes. His dog opened his mouth, and a low, raspy cough came out. Hector squeezed his eyes shut.

"Damn, kid. You're persistent as hell. Fine." He ran his hand down George's back and looked at his palm, which was now dirtied. "Damn... yeah. Okay. Just show me where to go and what to do."

The groomer set to preparing his dog bath - in truth, he had prepared it just for this moment, an hour before - and hummed to himself as he worked. A noise from Hector drew his attention and he looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"

Hector was looking at him, his expression unreadable. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

"Thank you."

Yves stopped his work and glanced down, unsure of himself, before responding with an equally quiet, "Of course, we are... friends, aren't we?"  

[Logue]

❝ Sæglópur ❞
PART SEVEN

July 7th, 2015

"What kinda soul do you even want?"

His voice echoed in the street, which had only begun to fill as locals gathered to grab a bite and watch the beginnings of the fireworks show. They began to line the sidewalks, leaving the streets themselves free for cars to coast through. Yves watched the explosions of color with fondness, the fireworks crackling gently in the distant sky.

He thought about Hector's question for a few moments, pursed his lips and looked at him. Pondering on souls always made him aware of his soul bottle and fel essence, both kept comfortably tucked inside his messenger bag at his side for the day. They were heavy, but he considered it his burden to carry them until he was prepared to finally mail them off to create a raevan. A constant reminder of his task, at the very least.

"You really want to know?" He smiled. "It... er, it is really dumb."

"Go for it," Hector said with a nudge. Yves laughed and rubbed his neck, looking sheepish.

"This is going to sound crazy," he warned, smile broadening. "But for the longest time, my thought was: I really need a wolf soul! Because, you know... the colors, and I was just losing my mind, I think." He laughed again. "It's dumb, I know. Really, really dumb."

Around them, the air was thick and warm, even though night had fallen about an hour before. The streets were already alive with festival-goers, people celebrating the joys of Summer with sparklers and food. Yves had always loved Durem's modest Summer celebrations. The town was always so dreary-looking, so its citizens looked forward to the little things with great appreciation, himself included.

Hector was quiet, staring ahead at the people passing by. Yves had expected him to laugh, but he seemed to have become lost in thought. Finally, he looked over at Yves and raised an eyebrow. "Wolf, huh? So that's why you've been hanging around us so much."

Yves raised both eyebrows. Curiously, he asked, "Er, what do you mean?" He then drew his gaze down to George, who was lying down on the warm concrete nearby, eyes open and glancing this way and that at every noise. Yves was 100% convinced he was some kind of husky mix, now. He just couldn't figure it out and Hector didn't seem to know, either.

Fireworks went off. Pop, pop, crack.

George looked a little uncomfortable - understandably due to the fireworks and the increasing crowd. Yves side-eyed the large, gruff dog until he registered what Hector was implying.

"Wait," he said, suddenly. "I'm not -- George is a dog!" He waved his hands in front of himself. "Non, non. Oh, my god, did you really just say that?" Hector laughed, louder than the fireworks, which startled George again. He calmed once he realized it was just his owner having a good time.

"I'm just givin' you s**t," he said with a grin, embarrassing Yves. "I know it ain't like that. You're way too nice and ya really don't strike me as the back-stabbing kind." Yves closed his eyes and exhaled loudly.

In the back of his mind, he hoped Bubs and Peanut were doing alright at home. He had enlisted the help of his parents to babysit the animals, but he knew Peanut, in particular, hated fireworks. He would always growl and bark and act like he was going to fight whatever was making noise outside. Yves glanced at George, who was looking a bit bothered, himself, and wondered how he managed with them every year.

Hector smiled at Yves. "Anyway... wolf, huh. Pretty cool. I can see how that might be difficult, though. It's gotta be grey or white or somethin' like that, right?" Yves nodded, solemnly. "Well.... what about a mouse? Or, er... a rock?" he offered with a chuckle.

"Tut! A rock. I suppose I have not caught one of those yet, although it is likely possible."

"Metal?"

"You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

Hector looked away and down, unwilling to meet his gaze. A sure sign of guilt, which Yves found amusing. "You have!" he teased, leaning over to elbow his side. "Has it been bothering you, not knowing what it will be? It has me on edge, as well." Yves withdrew and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking up to watch the fireworks again. "I wonder what my raevan will be like."

The fireworks seemed to be picking up as the night, too, carried on. He didn't know what time it was, but the encroaching darkness seemed to suggest that it was approaching 9:00. Regardless, Yves was thankful he wasn't trying to get any sleep for another couple of hours. When he looked back at Hector, the other man was staring at him.

Hector seemed to be considering his words with great care. "You said it was like reincarnation, right? If it were an animal, or..."

Hector trailed off and rubbed his jaw in thought. Yves watched him curiously. In their time spent together, Yves had divulged his fears and hopes for the raevan project to Hector, and Hector had become much more involved than either had anticipated. At the very least, Hector was about as informed on the subject as Yves was. This was the second time Hector had seemed affected by the whole 'reincarnation' bit, and he had a strong hunch as to why.

The weathered, old dog who was perched faithfully at his feet gave it away. He had not failed in noticing George's colors; it had been uncanny, really. Of course the idea of his old friend reincarnating would be intriguing, tempting. But George wouldn't be the same, nothing ever was the second time around. Or the third, or fourth. His heart hurt for Hector. George was so old, and he knew his time would be soon. They knew - all three of them.

Yves murmured,"Yes," and left it at that, distracted by his own train of thoughts once again. That, and the colorful images painted on the sky drew his eye away. He welcomed the distraction.

Hector's best friend. Yves unknowingly grabbed at his shirt, over his heart. The thought of his own pets passing away - god, he didn't even say the actual words, it was just when they went, as if they would be back - broke his heart and he would be lying to himself if he denied having cried at the mere thought. Despite that, he would never suggest to Hector that he take George's soul when that day came. What then? Give Hector the newborn raevan and wish them well?

His thoughts were disturbed by a large hand giving his shoulder a gentle shake and Hector's quiet, "Hey." Yves shook his head and tilted it toward Hector, eyes wide.

"You okay?" He looked concerned, dark brow knit.

"Ah... oui. I... I'm sorry." Yves rubbed his temple. "Just that the talk of souls stresses me out. I have taken so long, you know? Much longer than I should have. I know it is at my own pace, but I still don't want to be... well, that guy." He smiled sheepishly up at Hector, looking worried.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to get you all bugged out with that kinda talk," Hector replied, earnestly. "Hey, but I got one more question - and it ain't depressing, either." He knelt down and ran a hand over George's ears and back, the dog still looking fearfully at the sky. "This is probably a long shot, but you think that weird bone essence thing you got could help George out?"

Yves blinked. His fel essence? Help George? He reached into his messenger back and pulled the bottle out, turning it around in his hands. He didn't even fully understand it, and he'd had the thing for the better part of a year. What was Hector going on about?

Suddenly, it clicked in his mind. "Oh," he said aloud, and looked down at George with eyebrows raised. "Because... because of the self-healing bone? You think..."

"Maybe," Hector said, then paused. "You know, maybe it'll help his... sore bones. Or... maybe it'll have the complete opposite effect and, er..."

Yves waved a hand. "Um, yes. It could also do that, possibly. Maybe we... do not try it out." Hector laughed. The mood lightened, despite the fact that they were discussing whether George's poor bones would heal or turn to dust if left to the mercy of the fel essence.

"Oookay. It was worth a shot, at least." He drew himself up and patted his leg for George to follow. "Well, gotta get home, George doesn't like the fireworks."

Just then, as if on queue, a large boom exploded across the sky, not unlike an enormous gun shot. By far the festival's biggest firework yet, it sent a colorful flower cascading over them - it was beautiful, but not without the price of the sudden and startling noise. Several people gasped in surprise, and one child clapped their hands over their ears and squeezed their eyes shut. Even Yves winced and had jumped slightly.

As the crackling of the firework subsided, another noise drew their attention - and caused their hearts to sink.

Tires screeching, a loud thump.

A low whine broke through the thick air. It was brief, sharp, and cut through them like a knife. Yves was suddenly disoriented, blinking and trying to process what was happening. Before he could react, Hector was running toward the source, but what he saw caused him to stop, rigid, breathless.

"It - it just jumped out," the woman cried, standing next to her truck in visible distress. She was wringing her hands on her skirt, eyes red with tears. "It just ran right in fr-front of my c-car, I-- I'm sor --"

Yves stood dumbly by, face frozen in a look of shock and confusion; he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"George," Hector breathed, and fell to his knees next to the still form of his dog.  

[Logue]

❝ Sæglópur ❞
Finale

July 7th, 2015

TW: Animal Death

Everything happened so fast.

The fireworks had exploded into a luminous flower against the sky, lighting up the entire street. Passerby and those celebrating Durem's little Summer festival had stopped and covered their ears, some marveling at the beautiful display above them.

Really, it was all over so fast.

Yves tried to register what was going on. There was a truck, it had stopped very suddenly in the middle of the street. Someone had screamed. A woman? No, it wasn't human.

A dog. Yves breathed in.

Hector.

He was kneeling next to the trembling form of George, lying in front of the car. Yves had to jerk his head away immediately at the sight, unable to accept what had just happened. No, he told himself, feeling his legs go numb. Not like this. Not like this.

People were talking, quickly, worriedly, someone comforted the woman who had been driving while another person tapped a hand to Hector's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," the person said, but Hector smacked their hand away without moving his eyes from his dog.

"Don't," he began, voice hard. He cleared his throat and Yves knew he was crying.

"Don't.... don't touch me."

The street grew quiet, the low rumbling of distant fireworks now ominous, like a far away war. Parents were quickly leading their children away from the grisly scene, and the woman who had been driving was crying, too, her phone held shakily up to her ear. Who did you even call in this situation? The police? The veterinarian? Yves wiped at his eyes and approached Hector. He felt that he was the only person allowed to.

It was something so simple - animals hated fireworks. Yves covered his mouth and turned away, feeling the crawling urge to vomit. He blamed himself. Why hadn't he brought Hector a leash? Why hadn't he paid more attention to George's body language? Why hadn't he paid attention? He stood beside Hector, staring numbly down at George through blurry vision. It was hard. It was so hard to look down at him and he couldn't imagine what Hector felt.

"I'm sorry," Hector choked. He was petting George's fur as gently as his shaking hand could manage. George was quivering under his touch, breathing heavy and labored.

Hector closed his eyes, and tears fell down his face in a steady stream.

"That's... that's a good boy," he murmured, stroking George's neck. "I'm sorry, George, I'm s... good boy, good George." George looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but he lost control of himself every passing second. He tried to move toward his owner but remained still, only allowing a small jerk of his body. Hector let out a noise and hung his head.

"Shh, don't... don't move, George. It'll... it'll feel better soon. You're gonna feel just fine soon. Dad's right here, I'm -- I'm right here, George."

Yves sank to his knees next to Hector, his messenger bag sliding off of his shoulder and to the ground next to him. Every firework lit up the street but the noises were far away, everything was far away. He wiped at his eyes again and offered, shakily, "We... we can get him to the animal hospital."

Hector shook his head without looking up. He continued to pet George gently, feeling his ears, his back. George closed his eyes briefly, but opened them again to stare straight out at the street. George's gaze was very far away, unfocused. Every breath was wracked with a cough.

"It's too late," Hector responded, suddenly sounding very calm. After a short pause he leaned down and buried his face in George's fur, his arms finding the dog's large form and wrapping him into a hug. George was unresponsive save for another low whine, and Hector couldn't stop apologizing once he let go.

Yves felt helpless, and he grew frustrated with that feeling. He raised his voice, shakily, forcefully. "We can.... if we hurry, Hector... We can still..."

Hector wasn't listening. He was crouching over George, just petting him and watching him. Yves tried again, desperately, "Hector!"

"Kid," Hector began, voice hollow. He didn't move or turn his head to look at Yves. "That's... enough."

Yves closed his eyes. He knew what Hector meant. George was hurt badly, and he wasn't going to walk by his shop again. He would be going away soon.

Going away. As if they ever came back.

The reflection of red, gold, and blue glinting off of glass caught Yves' attention from the corner of his eye; turning, he saw that the familiar, cloth-bound bottle had rolled out from his pack. It sat against the pavement and reflected the fireworks overhead.

Going away.

Yves reached for the soul bottle.

He wasn't going away forever. He might not recognize him, Yves knew. They never were the same the second time around.

┈━━━━━━━━━━━━┈

Neither said anything to the other for a while after that. The street had cleared, for the most part, out of respect for Hector's loss. The woman who had hit George was standing by, speaking with the Animal Control specialists about the incident. What they would do with George after that, Yves didn't know. He only hoped they would allow Hector to take him to be buried somewhere, wherever he chose. Wherever George would have wanted to be buried.

As they stood by and waited, Hector tucked his hands into his pockets and finally spoke again.

"George..." Hector fumbled, and tried again. "George... liked you, you know." He looked at Yves, face tear stained. Yves knew he meant it.

"Hector, I..." Yves trailed off, slowly lifting the soul bottle he had been holding onto for dear life. Inside the bottle swarmed a cloud of grey, swirling erratically; it was searching, lost. The wild soul of George had been contained in the bottle, and Hector's slow realization dawned on him as he stared into the bottle's flowing captive. Yves bit his lip and handed the bottle to Hector. "I am so sorry," he began, voice quivering. "It... it wasn't my place. I... I am so sorry, Hector."

Hector stared numbly down at the bottle, which Yves had pushed into his hands. His brain tried to register that what he was looking at was George, his soul, but he only furrowed his brow and looked from the soul bottle to the dog, lying on the ground before them.

"That's.... what're you handing this... to me for?" he asked, slowly. The words came with great difficulty as Hector tried to fully comprehend what he held in his hands, the glass vibrating just slightly at his touch. The soul of his dog swirled and swirled.

"I am giving you the choice," Yves said, quietly. He was looking at George, who stared up at the sky with empty eyes. The fireworks couldn't bother him anymore. "I am giving you the choice to.... to open the bottle, if you want. And let him out."

Hector gripped the soul bottle in both hands and knelt down, next to George's lifeless form. He turned the bottle one way, and then another, and then lifted a hand to gently caress George's ears once more. As a stray tear welled up and slid down his cheek, he smiled, despite himself.

"I'm really gonna miss you," he murmured, voice gentle. His smile faltered. Clearing his throat, he added, "But don't you worry, buddy. Yves is gonna take good care of you."

"What are you talking about?"

Hector looked up and Yves had knelt down next to him. When Hector tried to hand the soul bottle back to him, Yves placed his palm over it and held it between them. He furrowed his brow, and Hector wondered why the French man always looked mad. "I couldn't possibly do it alone," Yves announced, and Hector blinked.

Before he could respond, the Animal Control specialist was approaching, clipboard in hand. Hector's mouth became a thin line and he stared at Yves, and Yves stared back.

"Excuse me," the woman said, tone heavily laden with sympathy. "Let me begin by offering my condolences to the two of you." She looked down at George's body, expression unreadable. After a few beats, she sucked in a quick breath and continued.

"Unfortunately, I must ask a couple of questions. First of all, sir?" She looked directly at Hector. "Is this... does this wolf belong to you?"

Hector stared at the woman, then his gaze dropped to Yves, whose dark eyebrows had disappeared into his bangs.

Everything after that was a blur.  

[Logue]

❝ Thinking Back ❞

「 Yves reflects on his soul capture. 」

July 20th, 2015

As had become the norm, Yves stood outside his grooming shop, hands in his pockets. He was staring off at the street, eyes unfocused as thoughts ran through his mind. The past couple of weeks had been a nightmare, and he had woken up wondering if it had really happened or not. When he had closed up the store and stepped outside that day, he had fully expected George and Hector to walk by, as always.

Today, neither George nor Hector had walked by. He knew why; George was gone, and Hector needed time to grieve. Yves knew there would be people who would ask, 'Why make such a big deal out of it? It was just an animal.'

But George wasn't just an animal. He had been Hector's closest friend for a long time. It pained Yves to wonder how Hector would be handling George's passing if he had never met him. Even if Hector would seclude himself and need time away, he would always know that Yves was there for him, every step of the way.

After all, that was what friends did for each other.

The days were longer in the Summer. Yves wasn't sure how long he had been waiting outside, nor did he understand why he had waited at all. Hector wasn't going to come by. He probably wasn't going to see him for a while. After all, Yves held onto the soul of his departed wolf, George.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the soul bottle. It had calmed down a bit overnight, but he still saw the cool grey mass swirl and ebb with a bit of worry in its pace. Did George understand what had happened? Did he know where he was?

He had to stop calling the soul bottle George. The raevan wasn't going to be named that, and it hindered his ability to separate the two in his mind. The raevan wasn't going to come out as a scruffy old wolf, it was going to be an entirely new being, with its own thoughts, feelings, and personality. He would have to make sure Hector understood that, too.

Thinking back, Yves remembered what he had told Hector. That he wouldn't be able to look after the raevan on his own. The adrenaline and his own remorse had caused him to say that, but he wondered if he had been wrong to do so. After all, he had to be ready to take care of something if he'd signed up for it, right? He hadn't been doubting himself (no more than usual, at any rate), but he had felt like it was the right thing to do to involve Hector in his upcoming raevan's life. Hell, its soul belonged to Hector's pet. Of course he was going to extend the offer.

But what did that mean? He bit his thumb and worried. He wasn't going to give Hector the raevan on weekends or anything like that. No, they weren't going to get married and raise it as their child, either. He laughed at that thought.

Someone's voice caught his attention and startled him out of his thoughts. Blinking, Yves looked over at one of his young employees whom he had just recently hired for the Summer. He tilted his head. "Oh, hello, Amy," he greeted, pleasantly. She smiled, but looked a little sad.

"Hello, Mr. Lecuyer," she began, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "How are you?"

Yves smiled. "Doing well, but you know you can call me Yves, right?" She blushed and looked away.

"Um, right! Sorry. I just, um... okay, I'll just say it." She smoothed out the front of her skirt and drew in a breath. Yves winced internally, wondering if he was about to get a confession of love or something like that. Instead, he was surprised when she blurted, "I... I have to quit my job at the Pet Parlour!"

He blinked once, twice. Well, he had not been expecting that, but to have been expecting anything in the romantic sense made him blush at himself; Yves, you idiot. When did he get so egotistical? Once Yves properly registered what he had just heard his smile disappeared, but he made an understanding noise.

"Well, that... is a shame, Amy! I will not pretend I am not sad to hear that." Amy, his former employee, looked at the ground. "But I understand. You wouldn't be working here forever, after all, would you?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I knew you would understand, Mr... er, Mr. Yves. It's just that I got another offer closer to home and school, I'm so sorry... I know you don't hire very often." She didn't seem to notice the soul bottle in his hands or, if she did, she didn't say anything about it. Yves was secretly grateful.

They chatted idly for a few minutes after that; Amy bid farewell to Yves and Yves wished her the best of luck. Compared to what he had gone through in order to fill that soul bottle, this was much, much easier to deal with. Still, Yves watched her go with a bit of sadness; she was a really good kid, and had a natural way with animals, if not a bit awkward around people. She reminded him of himself.

The afternoon was dragging on, and Yves made a mental note of the time before deciding he'd best be on his way. He had to go home and tend to his animals, who he had spent the night attempting to cuddle for dear life. Bubs and Peanut hadn't been very happy with Yves' sudden clingy attitude over the past several days, but they'd all gotten through the week and that was all that mattered.

Just as he was turning to double-check that he had locked the front door, Yves was again directed to a voice: this time, it caused him to look over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. He stared into Hector's face, worn and tired and looking as if he had forgotten to sleep for days. Yves prepared himself.

Hector let out a tired, "Hey." He lifted a hand with the greeting.

"Ah! Monsieur Hector," Yves chirped, trying not to sound overly cheerful or fake. He was shocked that Hector had even shown up, but he was relieved, too. "I am happy to see you. How -- how are you?" He had forgotten about the soul bottle until Hector's gaze fell right onto it. Yves gulped, reddening a bit.

"Still haven't turned that thing in?" he asked, nodding toward the soul bottle. Yves made a line with his mouth and shook his head slowly. "What's holdin' you? I figured you'd be at the post office right days ago. Wasn't this what you wanted?"

"What... what do you mean?" Yves eyed him.

"That soul bottle. It's filled, ain't it? And you even got the soul you were wanting. Life's weird, huh?" Hector leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. "You and me meetin', George... that Lab 305 business. It's almost like it was designed for all of this to happen, huh? I just wish... I just wish it didn't have to happen that way."

Yves watched him with concern, brow knitting.

Hector looked like he had more to say, but he closed his mouth and shrugged again. Yves had a feeling he knew what Hector was going through, at least a little. Aside from himself, Hector likely didn't have many others to call friends, to hang out with. George had been that constant in his life, always there, always supportive. Yves had met Hector by chance, and he had been there to capture George's soul by chance. Was it true that everything happened for a reason? Was there... reasoning behind all of this?

"I'm sorry."

Yves looked at Hector, soul bottle clutched in both hands. Hector hesitated a few beats before turning his head and giving him a small smile. "Don't apologize, kid. I gave you permission. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited as hell to see what comes outta George's soul... hell, it'll be like he never left, in a way, won't it? But not the same. Not the same George, anyway." Yves slowly nodded and mindlessly fiddled with the soul bottle.

"I'm still sorry, Hector. For... for your loss. But... but I'm also glad that I was there. I'm glad I could be here for you, to help you. As... as a friend helping another friend." Yves held the soul bottle out to him, and Hector took it in his hand and smiled at it.

"He seems pretty restless in there, heh. Not used to being cooped up. Guess he really was a wild animal," he muttered, fondly. The soul matter whirled and whirled in the bottle, as if responding to the touch of its previous owner's fingertips against the glass. Hector gave it another long, fond look before returning it to Yves. "Alright, this is the last time I wanna hold this thing, got it? Go turn it in already. You've waited long enough." Yves withered a bit at his stern look.

"You're certain?" he countered, voice serious. Hector leaned toward him, raised his brows, and mouthed, Yes. He then gave Yves a light shove and waved at him.

"How many times do I have to say it? Go turn that thing in before I change my mind. Just... I don't know, be here next time I come by."

Yves looked taken aback, and truly was surprised to hear that last bit, which Hector had added quietly, almost as an afterthought. His face broke into a huge smile and he lifted his arm in a wave.

"Yes, of course! You always know where to find me, monsieur Hector." Turning on his heel to leave, Yves got a few steps in before he remembered something and turned, abruptly. "Ah! Hector!"

Hector blinked, a cigarette halfway to his lips. Yves wondered if he'd always smoked or had just picked up the habit. "What now, kid?"

"Are you looking for a job?" Hector gave him a confused look and Yves turned back to head for his car, looking over his shoulder. "There is an opening at my grooming salon. Think about it!"

Their meeting that day had been short, but Yves left it feeling more energized than he had in months. He hurried home, stopping only to run into the post office for a box big enough to hold the brief case his fel essence and soul bottle had arrived in so many months ago.

His stomach turned. Was he going to have to pay postage for that enormous briefcase?  

[Logue]

❝ Saying Goodbye ❞

「 Yves prepares to send his fel essence and filled soul bottle back to Lab 305. 」

( who : Yves ) ( where : Home ) ( time & weather : Late afternoon; it's hot out. Why is it so hot. )

July 20, 2015

His hands hovered above the buckles to the brief case; once again, Yves found himself hesitating.

Situated perfectly inside the brief case were two glass bottles, one containing a regular-looking bone and the other humming with the grey/blue soul of a wolf. He stared down at his accomplishment, finally sucking in a breath and turning away.

Was he ready? God, he hoped so. It had been almost an entire year since he had answered the door and been given this very brief case, and it had certainly taken him long enough to capture the soul needed in order to create a Raevan. His hand found his temple and Yves closed his eyes.

Peanut's excited barks made him gasp and he looked down at his terrier/chihuahua... tihuaha? Cherrier? Peanut was doing circles on the floor and his little ears were sticking straight up. He had followed Yves out of the bedroom and all the way to the living room, dragging his leash and growling suspiciously the entire way. His sudden outburst startled Yves and he stooped down to look at his dog.

"Peanut! Shh!" He held his tiny dog in both hands. Peanut quivered and shook, as he always did, but his eyes were bugged out and his tail was moving so fast it almost appeared to sit still. Yves frowned and tilted his head. "Peanut, what the heck is wrong with you?" he asked, growing concerned.

It had been happening the past week or so, since the fireworks had finally died down. They had gone on for several days and Peanut hated them with a fiery passion. Normally, the small dog would have calmed down by now, but he still seemed on edge the entire time, eyes darting this way and that and always yipping and barking at every little thing.

Yves had checked him for injury, even taken him to the vet for them to suggest that something was simply stressing him out. They had offered ways to calm him, even a pill, but Yves hadn't felt the medication was necessary just yet. Likely just an after-effect of the fireworks, he had told himself. Another possibility was that he had been feeding off of his owner's stress; dogs were funny like that. They were so sensitive to the air around them, they just seemed to pick up on things humans couldn't even begin to bother with.

Yves stood again and looked back toward his brief case, sitting comfortably inside the enormous box he had just purchased for it. He had been so excited to buy it, and he had stuffed the box with packing peanuts and was going to ask them to put FRAGILE tape all over the damn thing. Even though the bottles were insanely sturdy, he wasn't going to risk it. George's soul meant too much to him, and to Hector.

As he reached down and picked up the soul bottle (for, presumably, the last time), Peanut began barking again, leaping up at Yves' legs as if he meant to scale him. Yves gently nudged at him with his foot. "Peanut! When will you calm down?" His words died out by the end, and he looked from Peanut to the soul bottle, then back to Peanut. The dog was staring up at the soul bottle with wild eyes, his lip curled back to show his tiny, sharp teeth. Tentatively, Yves held out the soul bottle for Peanut.

The little dog stiffened all over and began sniffing the bottle, his ears stuck straight up and tail still. When the swirling soul made an erratic movement Peanut jumped and yipped in shock. He then proceeded to bark angrily at it, and Yves pulled the bottle away and held it to his chest.

"So that is what has been bothering you?" Yves asked, baffled. The timing made sense... Peanut had been pretty crazy since he had brought it home, but he had chalked it up to the fireworks because, well... who wouldn't? They said animals could sense stuff like that, the paranormal and whatnot, but did Peanut honestly know what he was barking at? He thought back; in truth, Peanut had only began barking and freaking out when he had brought the filled soul bottle around him.

He had never made the connection until now. Yves shook his head and set the soul bottle back into the brief case. With one last look, he brought the lid down and clasped it shut. "There, Peanut," he murmured, closing the flaps of the box over the face of the brief case. He grabbed for the tape and began sealing it. "Now it will not bother you anymore, hm? Or maybe... you're excited for it, too?"

Peanut had calmed a bit once the soul bottle was out of sight, but he still seemed incredibly suspicious and was watching Yves the entire time. Did he know there was another dog... er, no, not a dog, a wolf inside the bottle? Or was Peanut just freaked out by the swirling inside? Yves had never owned anything like it, a lava lamp or something to that effect, and Peanut was a high-stress creature. Anything out of the ordinary could upset him. Yves smiled, despite himself; he wanted to believe that Peanut was just as excited as he was. If so, then it was likely he was just as scared, too.

Yves hoisted the package up and looked down at Peanut. Bubs, as always, was absent during an important moment. Cats just didn't care unless they could play in it or eat it, it seemed. "Well, Peanut, say goodbye. For now, anyway." He let Peanut sniff the box. "What do you say to a new brother or sister, hm?"

Peanut didn't respond, of course, but his watery eyes finally broke away from the box and stared up into his owner's. Yves patted his head and grabbed his leash, looping it around his forearm so he could hold the box in both hands. "Time to go! You like the post office, remember?" Peanut vibrated in his teal harness.

Goodbye probably wasn't the right word. It was more like, 'See you later.' Yves piled himself, the box, and Peanut into his car and pulled out of the driveway, casting his house a quick glance. Bubs sat the window, watching them leave. Had he been there the whole time? Cats were so strange.

Yves smiled and lifted his hand in a wave, and then began the drive down the street, to the post office. The next time he saw the fel essence and soul, they would be something completely different, and amazing.  

[Logue]

Lab 305 Summer Tea Party | [x]

[ feat. Yves, many others ]



On a much lighter note, Yves is happy to attend a tea party hosted by the lab. He tries his best not to drink their entire tea supply.

 

[Logue]

❝ A Quiet Grave ❞

( who : Yves ) ( where : A small creek in the woods, not far from Yves' home. ) ( time & weather : Early morning, windy with signs of rain overhead. )

August 29, 2015

They had buried him here, near this quiet creek, some time ago.

Yves stood by the grave, marked with a simple rock, and stared down at it. He and Hector had come here and they had dug the grave for George. They had laid him to rest there, and they had stayed there for a while, even though they both knew George's soul was elsewhere, safely tucked away in a bottle. That had been weeks ago, but Yves still found himself coming by the grave site at least once a week; he wasn't entirely certain as to why he did it, but he knew it did give him some time to think back on what had happened.

How he had taken the life of an animal. Willingly, even. Yves looked down at his hands, opening and closing, his palms cold. It was getting colder out, and the wind whipped his scarf this way and that, his coat held securely to his person for warmth. The clouds overhead looked to promise rain, but every now and then they would part and allow some sunshine through.

The weather was confusing. Everything was confusing. Yves closed his eyes and sighed, loudly. He could be as loud as he wanted out there, with George. It was morbid when he thought about it, so he didn't think about it very often.

George the wolf had been buried with his collar. A rusted name tag bore his name and nothing else, likely because Hector did not have an address to return him to if lost. But George never became lost, because he had never left Hector's side. How would the raevan react to Hector? Would they recognize him? Would it cause conflict between Hector and Yves? Yves wanted to be the raevan's guardian. What if the raevan sensed some sort of instinctual bond with Hector and chose him, instead?

Yves slowly sank down until he was sitting right in front of the grave. The wind rustled the leaves and sent the dying ones askew, scattering out and into the creek nearby. The sound of gentle water rushing through was comforting, but not distracting enough.

Yves touched a hand to the rock and tried to find the right words.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed, lifting his hand from the rock. George wasn't there, he had been sent away to the lab. But Yves couldn't hold the soul bottle in his hands anymore, and so he found himself in front of a skeleton, again and again. Bones. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He slumped forward and hugged his knees to his chest. Save it, he told himself. Save it and make up for it when you meet them.

Make up for it... yeah. He had a lot of making up to do. With his sister, whom he had ignored for how long, now? And his friends, and Hector, and George, and...

Focus. He had to focus on the future, now. Yves stood and dusted his rump off.

"I'll see you again, soon," he murmured, before turning and heading through the foliage and back to his own back yard.  

[Logue]

Tuning Up | [x]

[ feat. Yves, Raz ]



Yves tries out a new music shop, armed with his antique violin.

 

[Logue]

Coffee Grab | [x]

[ feat. Yves, Oliver ]



Pumpkin pie lattes are back in season and everyone wants one!

 

[Logue]

Haunted Mansion | [x]

[ feat. Yves, Xiu ]



The infamous and ancient Durem Manor is hosting an open house,
but things are not always what they seem and the mansion holds a dark secret.

 

[Logue]

❝ A Year's Worth ❞

( who : Yves ) ( where : Home. ) ( time & weather : Noon, clear sky but cold. )

October 24, 2015

"Has it really been a year?"

A dry-erase calendar stood poised against the wall of the modest but well-decorated kitchen, and a smallish young man was scrutinizing it and scratching his head. October. It held a lot of importance for him, but it had taken Yves a while to realize that the one year anniversary of the day he first gained his soul bottle and fel essence had passed.

A whole year. It all flew by so quickly. Not without its ups and downs, to be sure, but the French man wrinkled his nose and came to the conclusion that it had really passed too quickly.

And to think that he had taken almost the entirety of that year to actually gather his soul for his raevan. Drifting away from the calendar and to the counter, Yves sighed at the dishes in the sink, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

Poor George. Every time he thought of the old wolf, he always thought, poor George. And poor Hector. Even though the older man seemed to be taking it well, Yves knew better, and had done his best to provide him with a distraction by asking him to come work in his grooming parlor. Truthfully, he had been expecting a prompt 'no' from Hector, but when the old man had showed up the next day for work, he felt incredibly happy and relieved.

He had caught on quickly. Yves figured that being able to tame a wolf would probably be enough experience, and he wasn't wrong. Hector was a natural and he loved animals just as much as Yves did, possibly even more. Neither of them talked about it, so Yves never felt guilty or strange for giving Hector a job as if he were still trying to take care of him.

You're like a fa -- father to me, Yves had drunkenly confessed one night. He rarely drank, and for good reason. Hector had looked confused and then utterly amused, and laughed until his smoker's cough kicked in.

Uhhh, he'd replied, holding the bottle haphazardly to his mouth. He missed and bumped his own cheek and they both laughed. Finally, when he had apparently had enough time to think it over, Hector looked him in the eye and said, Kid, I don't have any kids, but...

He hadn't ever finished the sentence, and Yves never asked him to. He already had a father, and a mother. He hadn't been looking for that in anyone, and foremost Hector was a good friend to him. The paternal side just kind of wandered in somewhere, but it had always been a give and take. Strangely, it was as if the two grown men were in some kind of grapple to see who could stealthily look after the other better and more often.

Hector was just... the fatherly sort, like himself, but with much more life experience and maturity. Yves wouldn't say it aloud easily, but he looked up to and admired him. If he could take care of his raevan half as well as Hector had looked after George, even with their limited resources, then he would be ecstatic.

So? A different day, coffee, a walk through the park. Hector had been looking livelier, better. The work had been good for him and was that a new shirt?

So, what? he asked back, green eyes glancing at Yves.

So you look nice, Yves said with a smile, causing Hector to grunt and look back toward the path. Hey, don't be embarrassed! It just made me wonder if you were dressing up for someone...

Hector scoffed and gave him an incredulous look. Like who? You?

Non, but perhaps... a woman? Yves had waggled his thick eyebrows in a way that made Hector laugh.

Shut the hell up, kid.

That hadn't been the first time Yves had tried to tease him about dating. Hector wasn't a bad looking man by any means; older, yes, but women seemed to like that. He already had held a steady job for some time by then working with Yves, and he had gained his own little apartment. It was small and Hector didn't own a lot of luxuries, but he never minded and didn't want for anything beyond the necessities and some books, which Yves gladly loaned him on a regular basis. Despite having his own place for the first time in a long time, Hector still longed to go camping, and Yves promised (begrudgingly) that he would go with him once it got a bit warmer.

Before he knew it, the dishes were done and stacked in the dish rack, drying. He owned a dish washer but preferred to do them by hand when there weren't too many; the repetitive chore gave him mind time to wander and reflect without any pressure or distractions. He dried his hands and turned around, leaning back against the counter. Peanut came into the kitchen with the familiar tap tap tap of his claws against linoleum.

"Hello, Peanut," he greeted, and Peanut, tail twitching in a fast-paced wag, came up to his legs and stretched himself out, paws coming halfway up toward his knees. Yves chuckled and knelt down to run his hand down his back. "You came to help with the dishes? Thank you, but they are done already. Maybe next time?"

Since he had sent the bottle and essence off, a quiet calm seemed to have fallen over his home. He wasn't always thinking about what he had to do, but rather, waited with excitement for who was going to arrive. He had set up his spare room, which had formerly been a guest room, into a lovely little bedroom for the future raevan. Boy or girl? He didn't know, but it didn't matter, either. Newborns didn't care about decor or made-up gendered color rules, only parents did. He had simply taken care to make sure the bedding was new and that lively and cheerful photos decorated the walls. It was a bit smaller than his own room, but it suited his future raevan's needs, he felt.

When Hector had seen the spare room transformed into a bedroom, he had stood in the doorway for some time and just looked into it. Yves had left him alone but Peanut and Bubs hadn't been so courteous; in fact, Yves had had to close the door to keep them out of it. Especially Bubs. Something about brand new, pristine bedding just made cats lose all self control.

It's really happening, huh? Hector had asked, startling Yves out of his own thoughts. He came up behind Hector and peered around him, into the room. You're really gettin' something out of George.

Oui. But, you know... you can always come see him, Yves had gently reminded him. Hector fell silent but nodded.

You'll be a good dad, Yves.

Hearing that from someone like Hector had meant a lot. Yves opened his fridge and checked for the hundredth time for something to eat, even though he wasn't hungry. Peanut hovered close by as if waiting for him to drop something, and was disappointed when Yves closed the fridge door and walked away from it.

These quiet days were nice, but sometimes Yves got a little lonely. It wasn't fair to bug the same people every time he needed attention, though, so today had become a stay-at-home day and Yves was kind of fine with that. He did the dishes already, had cleaned the bathroom, double-checked the raevan's bedroom, vacuumed the hallway, triple-checked the raevan's bedroom -- yep, still there -- and was already running out of things to do at just noon.

A whole year. Was he ready? Would the raevan be happy with him? Would he be able to be a good parent, a good friend?

No, the time for self doubt had long passed. He was too far in now to go back; not that he had wanted to, but from now on he had to be sure. Had to be confident.

His stomach twisted. His sister was married, and even she didn't have any children. He knew he could go to his parents or grandparents for advice, but he still wasn't quite ready to bring all of this up to them. His parents worked so hard already, and he knew they would become both excited and stressed at the thought of him having a child. At the same time, he felt guilty for having kept it from them for so long. They deserved to know. They would be happy. They would support him. They would want to meet their grand-raevan.

He snorted, then laughed at himself. Grand-raevan. Amazing.

As the day dragged on, Yves found himself looking for any little thing to do. Take the dog for a walk, clean the cat's litter box, dust off the book cases, organize the books, grab some coffee. When the end of the day was drawing near, Yves found himself standing next to the television without turning it on. He was looking down at his phone. The contact name that stared back was familiar.

Mom.

His finger hovered over the call button. Yves raised the phone to his ear and waited a few beats.

".... Mom? Hi. Listen, I... I have some news."