Vincent nightray and echoes relationship problems

Vincent Nightray | Pandora Hearts Wiki | FANDOM powered by Wikia

He had trouble wrapping his mind around it. Distance might keep their relationship somewhat stable, or so Gilbert had thought. Oz wasn't here anymore, and whether or not Elliot Nightray had been his brother was not In reality the gunshot had killed Echo as surely as it had broken Oz, the Noise had. Relationships Bernard Nightray Bernard was Elliot's father, whom Elliot loved Elliot eventually went against his father's teachings, having trouble believing that . for Elliot and Vincent, it was just so sweet the type of relationship they had and A click echoed through the silent halls, Elliot started at the sudden noise "I was trying to be nice to you and welcome you into the Nightray family but yo-" . some of his purity to Vincent the 'dark/tainted' yeah I had trouble.

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Not out of malice or disdain — Gilbert handled that daily from others — but unspoken accusation. He glanced off to the side, tracing his hand against the divan opposite of the chaise-lounge Vincent reclined upon, trying to control his nerves as he related the reason why he asked to see Vincent alone at Pandora. Out of concern for him and the Nightray house since the Head Hunter returned. As soon as the words left his mouth, a pitiless voice entered Gilbert's head.

You should have checked sooner. Immediately upon your return to Pandora. Instead, you waited for a week by Oz's door and hadn't even thought to ask about Vincent until this morning. What does that say? A real caring brother wouldn't leave his family as lower priority. The guilt pained him. Did Vincent realize this too? His younger sibling always acted so grateful at any attention Gil offered, which only compounded Gilbert's feeling of selfishness.

I'm a liar and a bastard. Another reason always made Gilbert nervous whenever he was alone with Vincent. He knew, inevitably, moment will come when Vincent would stand too close for comfort, or cradle his hands like a lover, or do something so wildly inappropriate that Gilbert had no proper response than to flush angrily and flap away.

Gilbert suspected Vincent's feelings about him for years and was another unfortunate rumor that followed his little brother, trailing after the bedding of the noble and the aged. Gilbert expected Vincent to rise from his seat to place a concerned hand upon Gilbert's cheek, but his brother made no such gesture.

Instead, how unassuming and distant Vincent acted! Gilbert noticed his little brother must be having a rough time of it, even if he didn't mention things. There were circles beneath those magnetic bi-colored eyes, and his face appeared thinner. Was he losing weight? Maybe Gilbert should comment on how wan Vincent was becoming His hand lifted from the divan frame and he suddenly felt the urge to brush back that bit of hair that has fallen across Vincent's eyes. Sit next to him, ask him how he feels, coached that cruel voice.

That's a subtle way of starting things, right? This is all part of your brilliant plan, remember? Gilbert stayed his hand, balled it into a fist, and dropped his gaze to the plush carpet at his feet. No, this was a bad idea, to ask Vincent to come here. Gilbert's plan was a terrible thing, and he was a terrible human being to approach Vincent this way! He continued to stare at the floor, making short remarks in response to Vincent's concerns over his safety.

Yes, he dismissed the bodyguards, and silently, Gilbert recalled the last time the Head Hunter targeting him after the poisoning. The last victims had been the help, like he once was. A guard that he knew since childhood, a maid that used to care for Vanessa.

They didn't deserve to have their heads cut off simply because they had been by Gilbert's side that day. Their deaths were on his shoulders, and Gilbert realized how much of a threat he posed to everyone. Why he initially fled the Nightray manor to live on his own. You witnessed the carnage the Head Hunter's capable of. Even so, you waited a whole week until this meeting.

Is your master so much more important? Elliot could be in danger. Gilbert snapped at his conscience. He must wrap up this conversation as quickly as possible and forget the other idea entirely. Dismiss Vincent, go check on Oz. Maybe his master will finally see him.

Gilbert wasn't ignorant of flower language, either. Always fourteen roses, as if Vincent was sending a silent apology with every bouquet for even intruding upon Gilbert's time. Gilbert faced toward the door. No need to apologize this time, Vince. I'm the one who's acting like scum. You still don't remember anything, do you?

Have you forgotten what I told you last time? You don't remember either, right? That was the moment, and Gil missed it. For a good reason; because he had to stop these disgusting visions that have been plaguing him since that cold-hearted voice's suggestion: Vincent moaning and pleading that he'd tell Gil everything if only he kept on going Gilbert was glad the heated flush that basked his face wouldn't be noticed by his brother.

He leaned his forehead head against the frame and peered over at Vincent. The door began to swing shut behind him. Gil turned his head so that the dim light of the room cast shadows across his face. Vincent saw a faint pink color high on his brother's cheeks. Whenever these moods came over him — morose and regretful, fighting off some inner truth — it was simple to steer his brother away from further questions, because Gilbert didn't want to prod further.

Over the years, Vincent knew how to rein in his brother's curiosity by playing against his own fear. This time, however, seeing him there, the silent permission begging to be granted — Vincent relented for once. The moment lasted briefly and when he entered the room again, his steps crossed another boundary between them.

He perched on the divan opposite of the chaise lounge, hands folded in his lap. Vincent turned his head ever so slightly and caught the silhouette of the door leading to the suite's bedroom silently swinging shut. Luckily, his brother hadn't noticed, preoccupied by minutiae tracings on his gloves.

He crossed one foot on the other knee and picked at invisible specks of dirt on the white leather covering his palms. He looked so unraveled that Vincent couldn't resist ruffling some of those feathers of his.

Vincent leaned in, intrigued by his brother's move. And now you gave up your bodyguards. I won't let my big brother use himself as bait. Instead, Gilbert closed the space between them.

The household's had always been historically allied with the Baskervilles—" "Those traitors," Vincent cut in; his hand gripped Gilbert's thigh and still, the man did not budge. But a hundred years ago Had his brother made any connections? Vincent, I think I remember something. His heart started beating quickly in his chest. What a mistake to instigate this conversation! While it is helpful to know that Gilbert had been much more clever than Vincent had suspected, he never thought Gil would make any association between the Head Hunter and the past.

Or maybe the role that Vincent had played in all of that A knot of dread formed in the center of Vincent's chest. A hand grasped something beside Vincent's ear, startling him. Gilbert flicked a bit of fluff from his fingers. It is quite" he swallowed hard, "distracting. Slowly, Gilbert reached out and smoothed a tangle beside Vincent's cheek; it must've gotten disheveled while Vincent lain on the chaise-lounge earlier.

Instead of finding the gesture soothing, Vincent tensed. Gilbert had never instigated such an intimate touch before. Gilbert fixated on a particular lock, massaging the gold between his elegant fingers. Vince repressed a shudder of pleasure. What was going on? Maybe this was an opportunity to make Gilbert forget his previous train of thought. Or was he trying to pursue his interrogation from a different angle? What if he already knew the role they played as Baskervilles?

That he was much older than anyone else in the modern era knew? The dread grew, its sticky tendrils making it more difficult for Vincent to breathe. The same eye color. Maybe we have the same nose. Vincent tried connecting the dots, but they remained disparate and unreadable. Gilbert said softly, "Maybe we aren't really related…. I mean, if we just happened to be two people who… who…could just, well, um…" Vincent turned and stared.

What was Gilbert implying? The absurdity of everything made Vincent wanted to laugh. A snort came from him and Gil made a tiny squawk, breaking the kiss. Crimson painted his entire face, and he shifted his seat a good foot away from Vincent. He bent at the waist, shaking his head while running both hands through his hair, the perfect image of failure. Trying to weedle Vincent for information.

But what a poor Don Juan the man made! Gilbert even spent most of this conversation trying to convince himself of his desire! A satisfied bitterness coated Vincent's understanding of this whole fiasco.

In fact, the situation was so crystal clear, he wanted to sob. This week must've been very stressful. You should leave and let me take my nap. Here it is, Vincent thought, because Gilbert is so good and so noble, he is prepared to grovel to make up for his mistake. He is too much of the light to ever want to have anything to do with me.

Gilbert nearly stumbled off the chaise-lounge in mortification. I'm an idiot," he blubbered again. The dread evaporated in an instant and Vincent had to control the spinning of his thoughts, taking in this unexpected truth.

But you're right, I'm overemotional; I was thinking of the Head Hunter hurting you and gods, I only wanted to kiss you just once before it was too late; this is sick; you think this is sick; I'm sick—" "It's not. He ran a tongue across his lips. Tenderly, Gilbert pressed those lips to Vincent's cheek.

And then again a few inches lower, and then lower still, leaving a trail of slow, feather-like touches against Vincent's heated skin. What if this was only another trick on Gil's part? Trying to convince Vince of the veracity of his feelings? Don't think of the Vessalius wench, Vincent told himself as Gilbert worked his tongue along the hollow of his throat. But a vision of the blushing blond woman reclining on this very same chaise-lounge appeared as his threw his own head back upon the cushions.

Her voice, a strange parallel to his, gasping Vincent could not, must not, will not — identify with Ada Vessalius. He won't reduce himself to acting like a simple-minded woman. He judged Gilbert's every move as a weaker, inexperienced version of the things Vincent had done to others.

Yet despite the clumsiness, Vincent found himself falling in line. He wanted so badly to believe in Gilbert's love, in his older sibling wanting him and this was not a game. In reaction to Vince's expression, Gil backtracked: Two sides warred inside him, until he was almost beside himself in disbelief. He had to protect his brother from the knowing the truth, for knowing himself, and in order to do so, Vincent had to stand firm, he had to resist, he had… to… "I want Gil to think of me.


This was so unlike me, he thought letting a sudden detachment flow through him, I never get this emotional. Gil can touch me as long as we don't think we have our blood-bond? Is that what he wants? When I was a child. He untangled their limbs and shifted to the far side of the chaise-lounge, yawning. We can speak more later. An urgency lit his features and Vincent noticed those golden eyes taking on a darker sheen.

Gilbert's rarely this rough with him that didn't have to do with a lecture. There was a hunger in his voice and Vincent paid renewed attention, eyelids lowered. I think I was his servant. You were there too.

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But Gilbert was never that talented. Vincent's capped his laughter at the confession. Maybe without Vincent, Gil would've grown up to be an ordinary human being, or a Baskerville. One of the good ones, anyway. He'd always remain in the sunshine In an attempt to avoid answering, Vincent's flicked his tongue out to taste the lambskin leather of Gilbert's gloved thumb and he took the digit into his mouth, sucking eagerly while clasping Gil's hand to his face so his brother wouldn't recoil.

Instead, Vince found himself easing onto the plush cushions of the chaise lounge as Gilbert bent over him. Sudden panic entered no, that wasn't supposed to happen! His gloved palm pressed against Gil's chest in silent protest. Gilbert grabbed his raised wrist, stopping him and took his other wrist in his hold.

Vincent felt tightening heat below. Looking at his brother's seriousness, his breath hitched as Gilbert stretched his arms above his head to pin them onto the cushioned end of the chaise-lounge. Gilbert straddled him, his crotch resting on the rise seen through Vincent's clothing. Gil's grip loosened slightly and Vincent knew he could simply slip away; Gil would free him completely and then he can laugh this off again, dismiss his silly, pathetic attempts at seduction yes, Vincent could not deny this now and they can be done.

As strong as this thought raced through Vincent, his forearms relaxed into his brother's grasp. This can't be happening Maybe this is a dream, maybe the Dormouse is playing a cruel trick, maybe- Vincent shook his head wildly in response.

Why couldn't he control this fluttering in his chest and the intensifying pressure in his groin? That… it'll be too much. Vincent almost burst into another fit of hysterics if he wasn't already bent over the edge of arousal. Peculiar, Vincent realized, how differently both of them thought. While Gilbert cared about people, he pulled everything inwards, thinking them only in relation to himself, of his own feelings, of his own complicated situation — selfish and selfless.

It was Vincent who only thought of the other, not of himself in his plots. How would this person react? What could he do to control them, rein them in? All for the goal of ridding his very existence, his worthless, pathetic life.

Vincent knew he acted as the most selfless man in the world, even if no one else did. Here was Gilbert, his introspective caring older brother, pinning him into the plush coverings, feeling the heat of Vincent's desire throbbing against him, his face almost cruel in its unresponsiveness.

Had he finally learned how to be clever? Vincent didn't feel himself giving in, as much as he wanted to. Because if Gil wasn't thinking of how all of these actions meant, he wasn't giving Vincent something precious. Vincent knew his brother. He was sure Gilbert thought he was making Vincent happy while also getting what he needed, but it was always going to be Gilbert's needs first. Gilbert truly felt nothing for Vincent, even as they were in the middle of this seduction….

Elliot Nightray/Relationships | Pandora Hearts Wiki | FANDOM powered by Wikia

People assumed Vincent was the heedless one, the one who threw himself into situations. That's only what Vincent wanted them to think, constructing an illusion of a spontaneous libertine. No, that wasn't Vincent at all. Perhaps that was why after so many years of yearning, when his wishes were finally coming true, all Vincent wanted to do was scamper away and hide. If Gilbert was pulling some sort of trick … No, that would be too much. Vincent would simply break with this lie.

And yet- "I won't. Vehemently, Vincent shook his head. Another attempt at sultriness? Or self-consciousness reining in his voice? The blond shut his eyes and slowly gave in as he reopened them. Gilbert gave a small chuckle. Gil broke his hold on Vincent's wrists. Oz treated Echo as a person rather than just an empty doll, which made Echo reassess her priorities and expand on her own identity.

Though Echo's loyalty was still absolute, she was suddenly able to make her own decisions based on what she believed was right, such as saving the antidote Sharon Rainsworth needed after Vincent had poisoned them both and attempted to destroy it, spending time with Oz during the St. The more that Oz treated her as a person, the deeper the connection between him and Echo seemed to get. As a result, it seemed as though Echo may have developed romantic feelings toward Oz, which flourished more and more as the series progressed.

In the end however, such potential went unnoticed, however Echo's death hit Oz harder than most - encouraging him to don Noise's Baskerville cloak and pursue Oswald with a greater sense of purpose Unfortunately, as Noise had adopted a more aggressive persona based on observation of both Vincent and Duldee, she was mostly antagonistic toward Echo, making Echo more vulnerable, sensitive and scared when around Noise.

Even so, because she had not forgotten her true purpose of protective Noise's heart - Echo acted against Duldee at the pinnacle of Noise's destruction in order to save Noise's heart for what it began as rather than allowing Duldee to destroy it in order to break Vincent's hold over Noise.

Though Echo could see that Duldee only wanted to save her Contractor in a more misguided way, she still couldn't allow such a thing to pass, thereby sacrificing herself so that she could restore Noise's heart before both of them died - showing that Echo's individual development of self had come full circle and allowing her to die peacefully alongside the true Noise. In battle, Echo's preferred weapon was twin blue-bladed short swords, which she'd kept in the sleeves of her dress at all time in case she ever needed to use them.

Curiously enough, Echo also drew a projection of her short swords within Noise's subconscious while fighting Duldee. Additionally, while Noise appeared to be right-handed, Echo herself appeared to be ambidextrous, wielding both short swords equally skillfully with both hands. Abilities and Powers Possession: As a split personality created by Duldee, Echo had the ability to take the place of Noise as the active personality.

However, due to Noise's adopted aggression, Echo tended to only take on her role as the active personality whenever Noise was ordered by Vincent to recede into her subconsciousness. Like her predecessors, Echo was capable of picking up the broken pieces of Noise's heart and absorbing them in order to keep them safe until the day that Noise could reclaim them herself - as was her duty as Duldum.

Echo had been a skilled combatant, often making use of a unique acrobatic technique whilst sparring against opponents with her twin blue-bladed short swords.

However, in battle Echo tended to focus moreso on the exact orders she'd been given, and would even on occasion be compelled to take action in certain situations without consciously being aware of why she'd done so. All Baskervilles possess enhanced speed, strength and endurance as an effect of being chosen to act as messengers of the Abyss. Thus, due to her connection with Noise, Echo possessed such qualities as well - allowing her to carry on in battle without tiring and endure against extreme conditions that regular humans would have difficult coping against.

As a Baskerville, Noise was able to heal from her wounds at a rapid pace - even moreso than her older colleagues because of her young age. As such, Echo could also heal her wounds - only when serious wounds were inflicted on either personality, Vincent would have them switch so that either Echo or Noise could heal fully without interruption while their counterpart continued to do his bidding. Quotes "Echo is a servant of the Nightray house.

I'm really, very, grateful towards you Can't you think of anything else to say? You sound just like Gilbert Nightray! You're not all right!