* ɪᴛʜᴀᴄᴀɴ / 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 .

– SHE CAN TELL HOW MUCH THIS IS AFFECTING KIT, just like how much it affected him when they’d arrested lysander. all of this is bullshit, tough stuff, and she leans her head on his shoulder – not for her own support, but to show him that he is hers. “ at least you know it, but i don’t know if that’s BETTER or WORSE, ” she teases for a moment, sighing. “ but fine, share with me and we’ll talk about it, ” georgina reaches for the bottle. “ what have you been thinking about ? specifically. ” 

silence fills t’s lungs. a feeling he’s always grown to despise, but now he can’t end because he doesn’t know what to say. he reaches into his pocket to jar himself from it, pushing back a profound need to cry and how his heart thumps violently in his ears. and in a moment he’s produced a pack of cigarettes which is flipped open and extended towards kit despite the fact they stand in a hallway only recently emptied of professors and students alike.

“ i’m sorry i called you tess, ” he offers and if watched closely, one can see the glint he wipes from one of his eyes. “ you wouldn’t happen to be incredibly de-caffeinated, would you? i’m in the mood for a cup of coffee. and maybe some fish and chips if you want to tag along for linner. ”

the feeling is similar to when georgina had first chosen to approach him at a dance when they were younger. when lysander had done the same under the sycamore tree four years before. it’s being included when he knows he has no right to be anymore. 

 “i was supposed to meet with barnaby at three to discuss the philball,” kit replies, stitching his lips together in a thin line, gaze shifting from cigarette to talbot. “but i suppose he will be president next year when i am gone so... i will tell him to start without me. as i am rather de-caffeinated... and quite hungry.” a tentative smile creeps onto the corner of his mouth, finally taking the offering of the cigarette. his own way of saying that he’d like that. 

     her apartment feels like something to be avoided at this time. first lysander, now valentine. it’s difficult to discern what to believe, what to think of it all. so she tries not to. she’s running so much more than she ever has, but it’s only because all her usual forms of distraction trap her in the place she’s trying to stay away from. she’s walking back towards escalus, only because she can’t run forever, when she runs into kit. she looks down at the bottle in his hands, then up towards the path to escalus. 

     winifred nods, wrapping her earphones around her phone before sticking it in the pocket of her hoodie. “sure,” she answers. “how’ve you been holding up?”

The chilled air is enough to wipe some of the ache from his bones, jolted back into screaming awareness. He was never sure before who he could trust the moment he’d arrived on campus. No, that was wrong. More so, he wasn’t sure who’d ever believe the wild tale of the truth of his cousin’s fate. It seemed ridiculous unless you knew more, and up until now had seemed impossible to admit. But she was in custody, and her friends worlds rocked off axis. And so he paused, sighing as he reached for his cigarettes and found none. “I —- yes. Not completely in the sense of when or how but. I had my suspicions.” His next question is honest, curious. What else could be lost? “Do you believe it?”

“i’m not quite sure what i believe anymore,” he admits earnestly with a light sigh. a weighted statement if there ever were one as kit has never been fond of uncertainty. quicker to point the finger than ever delve into the morally grey. before reaching into the pocket of his jacket, fumbling around for the packet of pall malls before extending the packet out to alexandre wordlessly. “first they pulled me into custody, now valentine....” kit sucks in a breath, not really knowing how to express that there seemed to be more doubt surrounding the case than he’d ever granted it at first look. “all i seem to be learning is that perhaps i am not as good a judge of character as i thought.” 

a blatant sigh of relief projects from t’s mouth, not long after kit’s own. and in a moment to collect his thoughts, he sinks his back into the wall. “ that was . . you, right? ” the questions that appear to have no logical beginning seem to have no end, and yet still pulled out of thin air. after a couple days, he is nearly certain that his memory hasn’t lied. though he wants to hold nothing but contempt, t finds such an ability slipping from his grasp for memories of such a gentle kindness.

he could feign ignorance. pretend like he isn’t fully aware that talbot is referring to the gentle dusting off of a dinner jacket, the careful hoisting off the ground he’d extended to lysander’s brother. his old friend. such tenderness and care he hasn’t exhibited in a long while outside of his immediate circle without the help of a glass in hand. but kit’s tired. emotionally exhausted, so when he finally does nod his head, it comes as no surprise that it’s just as lethargic. “yes,” he says, so softly that it barely registers as a word. “i had to... well... i wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

ft. @ofkits​

His bag is shouldered with relative ease, having finally surrendered scouring pages of a book that was all too useless in what he’d been searching for. Xan rubbed tired eyes, wincing at the scratchiness and could feel how rough he looked. It was a common theme, the tired eyes and lackluster pallor. Everyone seemed a bit rocked by the truth. He wouldn’t fault them their idiocies. Making his way to the lower level of the library, he reached it the same time as another familiar face, gesturing for them to precede him as they made their way into the chilled air. “You alright, Kit?”

the library staff must think he’s lost the plot. going from books on the supernatural to pouring over police reports and book titles such as ‘ how to catch a killer ’ in as many weeks. valentine. he hates how much sense it makes on the surface, emerging from the library looking just as fraught as he feels when he bumps into alexandre. the thought crosses his mind as to whether he looks as much of a lost lamb as he feels. but emerging from the library trading usual aristocratic chique for a touch of mad scientist, with wisps of sandy hair standing on end, the answer is likely already revealed to alexandre before he’s even opened his mouth. “doing about as well as one can given the circumstances, i suppose.” he wets his lips, “did you... see this coming? what happened to valentine at the picnic?” 

christian’s barely even noticing where he walks anymore, so it’s no wonder he almost walks right into kit on his way back to escalus. if his brain has been on overdrive these past few months, valentine’s arrest has made it melt into something hardly even functioning. christian has no reason to believe valentine would bring his name up during questioning— if she tells the truth, she still comes out worse than he does. but still, there’s no telling what might happen anymore. there just isn’t. and any given moment could be christian’s last as a free man.

“can’t think of anything i’d like more, mate,” christian admits, trying to offer kit some form of a smile and utterly failing. “today was shit for you too, then?”

@ofkits​

talbot can’t help thinking how callous he must look with only the ability to wait till his wounds have healed. but his mind still keeps wondering towards the night that feels more of a blur than it should. the brunette cringes at how often he remembers calling kit by a different name.

“ do you have a moment? ” a question he poses in between the biting of his thumbnail, but a sudden one nonetheless since he’s jumped on kit as soon as he exits his last class. one of few they don’t have in common, but it’s not as though t had forgotten kit’s schedule.

there are many things kit has been called or mistaken for in his life. tess had never been one of them. well, it hadn’t until it had poured out of tal’s mouth so many times kit had begun to think in his own drunken stupor that maybe - just maybe - he was suddenly theresa rigby after all. 

if he hadn’t been actively avoiding talbot before the picnic, he certainly was now. up until the moment he almost jumps out of his skin from seeing him again. “i-” kit catches himself about to make an excuse, clutching to his satchel like it’s an escape rope before finally letting out a light sigh. “okay... i have a moment.” 

– GEORGINA FEELS…RATHER STRANGE. after all, she’s had a lot of late night conversations about octavia WITH valentine, discussed the existence of ghosts, but there’s a truth that remains: she wouldn’t put it past octavia to blackmail valentine for her family’s name, and perhaps they did have more of a reason to be enemies, now that everyone’s starting to talk about it. and, well, georgina will maintain that she NEVER liked her ( even if she was starting to warm up to her, she definitely won’t admit it now. ) but the fact remains that kit was also arrested and the police never feel like they have their shit together. 

“ don’t have to ask me TWICE, ” she reaches out to hook her arm with his but then wrinkles her nose and steps back, because – well, never mind ! “ you stink, ” georgina remarks callously. 

kit can’t make sense of any part of the latest development. it all feels far too much like a game of duck, duck, goose with the police and his fellow society members than a genuine investigation at this point. besides, he’s never seen valentine as a murderer. he couldn’t - not when he’d pedal his bike as fast as he could to the postbox in town just to send her letters when they were younger. 

in the day that had passed since valentine’s arrest, kit’s become a ghost of sorts himself. setting out early in the morning and spending the least amount of time in the house as possible. he should be working on his dissertation but instead, he finds himself holed up in the library pouring over the details he must have missed in the case. something he should have really done months ago. only stopping in the early evening to buy another packet of cigarettes and a bottle of shiraz before returning to escalus... suddenly very aware that he reeks of both when he bumps into the person on the path leading up to the house. 

closed starter for @ofkits !

“christopher stanley! stanley the man-ley,” christian’s a few drinks in now, and starting to feel a bit more comfortable with the whole picnic thing. not anything close to actually being comfortable, of course, because how on earth could he be — but just a tad bit closer. he approaches kit with a sloppy smile, looping an arm over the boy’s shoulders. “it’s crazy that your full name is christopher, like we almost have the same name,” christian chuckles. “how are you, mate?”

ever since octavia’s last appearance kit’s been feeling a little on edge. shrouded in doubt, seemingly looking over his shoulder every two seconds now that there’s even a hint that the real killer was still in imperium. but there isn’t even an ounce of tension held in his shoulders as christian wraps his arm around him... because there’s trust there now. instead, a light laugh pushes past his lips before he can help it. “mm, yes, absolutely mad.” he agrees. “i am doing rather well,” as well as can be. “well... this being my last picnic aside. and you? you’re... rather merry.” 

“excuse me, you’re–” her eyes trail up until they meet the other’s face, surprise and joy coalescing on her expression once mara recognized him. “kit!” she clears her throat and tries again, cooler and calmer and a little more collected. “kit, hey. what’s up? i didn’t expect to see you here.” wait, what was that insinuating? “not that i don’t think you do fun things. i’m sure you do. i just didn’t think this would be your scene.” then again, couldn’t the same be said for her? “can’t judge a book, i suppose.” you’re rambling, mara. shut up. “anyway, um, you’re standing.. on my jacket.” @ofkits​

"a picnic... would not be my scene?” he blinks, more in confusion than anything - did he not look like a man who liked to indulge on champagne and cute cucumber sandwiches cut into triangles? although after a moment’s deliberation he sighs, deciding he can hardly blame mara for assuming. after all, he had been looking a little like a lost lamb looking for roman. “oh.” he remarks, gaze trailing down to his feet distractedly before stepping off the fabric. “i’m sorry i... hadn’t been looking. it’s all just... a little odd this year, is it not?” 

– “WELL, YOU’RE BRIGHT RED, SO IT CERTAINLY SEEMS NOTEWORTHY!” she stands on her tiptoes so that she can pinch his cheeks gently, laughing. she glances over his shoulder again to get a better look at who he was talking to, making no effort to hide the fact that she’s STARING. “ he’s cute ! ” she notes, turning back to kit and taking his hand – she still doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about interrupting him for the sake of her own ego. “ how come your best doesn’t include me getting spun around ? ” georgina interrogates, furrowing her brow.

pale as a sheet and with heavy bags under his eyes, it feels more like kit’s currently in the running to become octavia’s replacement rather than a functioning human being. at first he dreads to think that th police are about to ask him about the weapon again and this time he won’t have a finger to point. yet somehow, the actual question ends up being worse. 

kit’s eyes are hazy by late afternoon. glazed over as he crosses the courtyard with a flute of bollinger in hand. it’s helping, or so he thinks. getting him through an uncomfortable sidebar with the police and even more uncomfortable small talk with his peers. it’s helped him to keep up pretences, which - as the trial looms heavily in his mind - seems to only grow increasingly difficult.