#nois

much of my beliefs on doppelgangers come from irish folklore and paganism, particularly the irish fetch. a smaller portion of my beliefs stem from the concept that doppelgangers are two halves of a whole. i would've included some japanese folklore for kathe and dri, but the ikiryou do not fit the nature of their relationship.

admittedly, much of what we know of the irish beliefs of the afterlife and souls is lost. and what we do know, of the irish and others under the umbrella of the celts, was written by the greeks and romans. thus, much information out there are those that have greco-roman influence. ( keep in mind that the celts were extremely widespread. my beliefs come from that of the gaels, which is the combined areas of ireland and scotland. celtic language and culture of the gaels originated from the irish.)

carrying on ! i and some other irish pagans believe that souls experience a cycle, similar to that of reincarnation. the soul does not die, but returns to the otherworld, which acts as a place for souls to rest and reflect before they return this realm and become a human once more.

with the belief that doppelgangers are two halves of a whole soul, and the folklore of the fetch, a particular concept formed in my mind for kathe and adriane.

130 years ago, adriane came into existence. and 98 years later, kathe was born. then at the age of 111 and 19, they met. looking nearly identical, with their eyes and voices being the only noticeable differences. but years before that, when kathe was only a child, adriane had used her as a host for several years. i have always had a belief, if not entirely canon, that when taking her as a host, his soul pushed out kathe's original soul from her body.

her soul tries to get back into her body. of course it would. those moments of her soul trying to squeeze back into her body would've only felt like tiny slips of control on adriane's part. when he finally left her body, instead of leaving a space for kathe's soul to return to, there was something still there : an incomplete version of adriane's soul. almost as if a fetch had tried to form, only to be stuck inside of kathe. it's not to say that there wasn't any room for her, but something was still there, keeping her from solely occupying her body once more.

it could be compared to kintsugi, where his partially formed fetch filled the cracks of her broken soul. ( no, i am not comparing him to gold. ) he became a part of her, the glue that kept her soul from staying broken and fragmented. kathe became connected to adriane without either of them knowing until they had met years later and felt the pull. a connection neither could explain because she couldn't remember and he would have to take some time before remembering what he had did all those years ago.

this isn't to say that adriane was free of kathe's soul when he stopped using her as a host. a piece of her soul stayed connected to him, a piece that had wiggled into his soul, too small to be noticed.

kathe wasn't originally going to grow up to look like adriane. she would've grown to look like one of her aunts due to dominant genes from her father. but having a piece of adriane's soul changed that. it's another element of them being connected. because of him having the more 'dominant' soul, he influenced her more than she influenced him.

being around him acts as a missing piece for her equilibrium. she can function as her own person just fine, but the connection she has with him is the tiny piece that she didn't even realize she was missing. she feels more stable around him, more understood. he's the best at grounding her because he has a piece of her that gives him that same pull. the same tiny, missing piece to equilibrium that he can function without, but feels whole when it's there.

it makes adriane both the worst and best thing to ever come into kathe's life. worst because he was a catalyst for so much hardship, but the best because when they met again, he let her in ( albeit in a less than healthy way ). she treasures him because she subconsciously feels complete in the sense of self.

kathe's current appearance is nowhere near the doppelganger she once was to him. one would think that this is a sense of growth into her own person, but it's not. it's a regression. nearly a decade without her soul being complete created something else, something that while still her, is not her truly.

the long hair, the soft clothes, the feminine choices ; they're all a step backwards. some of her weaker traits have come to the spotlight without adriane's presence. it's not to say that these traits are bad, but they were never this prominent before.

“Come sit with me,” you beg, tilting your head up to give him a pleading look. 

He is happy to obey, still sleepy himself and the couch is a comfortable enough substitute for bed. You shift your documents and place your computer to the side, resting it upon the broad armrest of the lounge to free up space for your husband.

Before settling himself down, Walter snags the two blankets that sit at home on the end of the couch, draping the thickest one over your legs before crawling onto the couch. Wordlessly, he lays his head upon your lap, your soft thighs his favourite pillow. The second blanket is used to cover himself as he cuddles in deep. 

He misses your adoring smile above him but feels your gentle fingers tangle in his unruly curls. Walter moans quietly, eyes fluttering closed and his weight rests heavily as he relaxes. Silently, you play with the darkened locks. Alternating between twirling the soft strands around your fingertips and combing your fingers through his mop of hair. The zephyrous ministrations easily seduce Walter into a warm doze, balancing the fine line between wakefulness and slumber. He feels warm, loved, adored. 

Just when you think he has fallen asleep, he startles you by capturing one of your hands. Your arm is pliant as he brings your frozen extremity to his mouth, brushing his lips against your palm. His hand entirely encompasses yours and between the natural heat of him and the heat of his lips, your hand becomes toasty and perfused. 

He adores on your hand for long moments, smothering every inch of your skin in whispering kisses, the burn of his beard leaving electricity in its wake. You giggle when he travels to your pulse point, layering kisses upon your radial heart beat. He can feel the strong thumping against his lips, tattooing the beat on his mouth and he leaves a wet, open mouthed kiss before releasing your wrist. 

The house is silent around you as the world slowly wakes up and is bathed in golden light. Walter slowly falls asleep in your lap as you turn back to your work, the positioning now slightly awkward with everything shifted to your left but you don’t dare disturb your husband. He deserves his rest. 

The comforting weight of Walter sleeping upon you helps you focus on your work, no possible distractions having the chance to arise since you fear waking the sleeping lieutenant. It ends up being a productive hour, one pile of documents now much larger than it’s counterpart and you’ve managed to untangle the messy ringlets of bed hair that Walter has not even bothered to comb this morning. 

Abruptly, Walter stiffens in his sleep, stretching his muscular body across the entirety of the couch before exhaling deeply, twisting onto his back and groans whilst he sprawls into a more comfortable position. You chuckle softly, amusedly shaking your head and instinctively, you reach out and run your thumb along the minor stress lines that marr his forehead. The job has aged him, you muse sadly. Faint frown lines decorate his face, in the same way, his chest displays the multitude of honour medals when he stands at attention during ceremonies. 

He shifts again, a heavy sigh being released as Walter reaches up and rubs the palm of his hand across his face. A lazy yawn and furrowed eyebrows follows the motion. He is mesmerising, even in the sleepy and languid morning. 

“Morning handsome,” you greet, voice melodious with affection.

He tilts his head back, ear following the sweetness of your voice and he hums blissfully, lips parting slightly and he relishes in the honeyed tone of your tenderness. Drowsily, he cracks open his eyes, blinking away the last tendrils of lethargy. 

“How long have I been asleep?” Walter huskily questions, grunting as he heaves himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch and slouches forward, chin resting in the cup of his hands as he yawns one last time. 

“An hour or so, you must have been tired,”. 

He glances over to you, observing how you have completed a large chunk of your work and that there is a lack of cups sitting close by. 

“Coffee,” is all the broad man says before he rises to his feet and ambles into the kitchen. 

You titter as he passes by and quickly use the time to stretch out your legs, sighing delightfully as the blood rushes back to the lower limbs. The familiar and abrasive coffee grinder erupts to life from the kitchen and not long after, the tantalising aroma of nutty caffeine reaches the living room. Your husband emerges with two large mugs in his hands, stern eyes trained on the prize as he steadily walks towards you, determined to not spill a single, precious drop. You have him well-trained as he automatically deposits the steamy cup on the marble-patterned coaster that is situated on the arm of the couch. His own mug is placed on the nearby coffee-table, an action you frown at because Lieutenant Marshall loves his coffee just as much as you, but you are pleasantly surprised when he turns to you. There is a soft look of adoration visible in his azure eyes and he stands before you, a strong, calloused hand presses against your cheek and his thumb delicately strokes the apple of your cheek.

You nuzzle into his palm, eyes crinkling in the corners as you gaze up at Walter, a besotted smile dancing across your lips. He leans down, nudging his nose against yours and gently, he manipulates your head to the side, allowing him the perfect access to his true desire. He kisses you softly, at first his lips barely brush against yours, as light as summer rain and just long enough that he could grasp the addictive taste of your lip balm, drawing him back for more. 

The second pass of his lips is firmer, the sensual hint of his tongue running along the seam of your lips and you moan. It gives Walter the opportunity to delve into your mouth, guiding the languid kiss and you fall pliant beneath his talented lips. His tongue sweeps across the moist space, the bristles of his beard scratching deliciously against your skin as you bury your hand in his curls, holding him against you as you get lost in the passionate sensation. He lazily draws back, sucking slightly on your tongue before pulling away completely, only a beady strand of saliva connecting you both. 

Unable to stray for long, he returns to your swollen lips, nibbling at the delectable tissue and soothes the abused skin with a subtle peck. You feel mildly lightheaded, so enrapt in the pleasure Walter subdues you with that you forgot to breathe. You snicker, sucking in a lungful of oxygen and Walter watches you, bemused. 

“Does my kissing entertain you, pretty girl?” He teases, hiding his exuberance and breathlessness better than you as he draws himself to his full height and retrieves his coffee mug. 

It takes you a few seconds to rein in your giggles, shaking your head to give a non-verbal response until you compose yourself. 

“No, no - I was just thinking that was one hell of a morning kiss,”. 

Walter chuckles alongside you, taking a long draw of the liquid caffeine and sits beside you. 

“I can’t blame myself, wife, I can barely control myself around you,”.

You tilt your head in his direction, crooking an eyebrow as you make eye contact with him. Innocently, Walter takes another drag of coffee and rests an enormous hand on your knee, the heat of his palm burning through the thick dressing gown and causes a burst of goose pimples across your skin. You titter, fondly smiling as you turn back to your own work, absentmindedly reaching for your own mug and the hazelnut taste explodes across your tastebuds. 

The joyful atmosphere remains, even though you both fall into your own activities. Walter doesn’t turn the television on, not daring to disturb your focus and instead, he skims through the local news web-page, catching up on the world he missed while he slept. Every now and then, he runs across a random snapshot and he has to show you, despite the distraction. He knows how much you love watching the videos of adorable dog antics, and the silvery sound of your laughter makes him want to find another video you’d appreciate - just so he can hear that blessed sound one more time. 

It is rare for Walter to have a gentle morning like this, these types of periods dotted few and far between his chaotically messy work hours, but then again, that is why he values them so much - because they are just as sacred as his love for you.

Tagging Henry Cavill (ie. people I interact with from my main blog):