Time's Nuances
Spoilers up to Chapter 42 'Unbirthday'
Pandora Hearts is copyrighted by Jun Mochizuki/ SQUARE ENIX CO.
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Sunlight stretched itself over the land, possessively claiming it back from the night, sending out it's waking signal to those who still slumbered. Awakening gently in an orange glow the cricket orchestra fades out as the bird chorus began the days' ensemble with only early morning workers to provide accompaniment to their tune. As the sun strengthens its hold over the land, skillfully conducting it with light, the bird song diminuendos and every day life crescendos into a steady beat that sets the pace for each day. It was a largely unknown concert, for everyone became a participant, and in the rush to keep in time the larger movement was lost on them. An existence outside of life would be needed to fully appreciate the glory of the morning concert and it was such an existence that Oscar Vessalius was musing on. The morning sun strained against closed curtains filtering through gaps as if the divine light had come to break the lingering darkness.
He had been sitting there, crouched over his desk, since before the handing over of the conductors baton from day to night deep in thought surrounded by completed Pandora work and various scattered letters that had been delivered throughout the week. Except for Ada's, her's kept within the top right hand draw in a small mahogany keepsake box along with a writing set used just to reply to her, his dearest niece (practically his darling daughter save for technicalities). Stretching he roused himself out of a solemn mindset, usually he would enjoy his mornings of peace using them as an escape from ever present duties. Frankly though these were not usual times.
By this time the rooms had become uncomfortably warm and so he rose, stretched again, and went to open the curtains. They were not so tasteful but certainly expensive looking and added to the studious feel of the room but it did not suit him well, far to serious. Drawing them back sunlight rushed in in all the grandeur it could muster however Oscar sought out the marvel of cigarettes instead. Keeping them in the same space allocated for Ada's letter and next to a scented drawer sachet that had been his wife's, he went to retrieve them but not before addressing the picture frame that rested on his desk. In it resided the image of his late wife, she looked joyful- brimming with life, taken during a summers day. He had gotten them lost in a market and he remembered taking her hand as she found their way home. Bidding her good morning he ignored the fingerprints marring the glass then headed out on to the balcony.
Puffs of smoke caught the sunlight light before disappearing into the clean, clear air so that only a faint trail leading to a cigarette marked their existence and soon, that too, would be snuffed out. Oscar, a man with gathering years to his name and the start of some well earned wrinkles to prove it, let out a deep sigh and smiled fondly at the world. It was a warm day, not dry or muggy, the type of day that could cheer even the most jaded of souls- the type where you could look to the sky, breathe in deeply and feel that yes, life is good. The type of day they would have enjoyed together. Burnt cigarette was flicked to the ground- the spent ashes falling beyond the balcony to the scenery below.
When she passed he had felt that the earth had turned to ice, all that he remembered was stillness and a numbness as all color drained from the world and her absence filled up the void in a monochrome haze. The events of the months following were nothing more than him reaching out for empty space as it all blended in to single feeling of helplessness, what use was the world without her in it? The grey had been too much to bear and he had sunk to his lowest. Further the cigarette burned down as its smoke whispered to him of the mortality of things, each breath bringing them both closer to the end, as ash was reunited with ash.
As time moved on so had he, the people around him became clear in his vision again and he began to accept what had happened. She had wanted a child despite all the warnings, she had already put it's life before her own, 'ah, she would have made a wonderful mother' Oscar reflected- not in remorse but with pride. The sickening feeling of knowing he had lost someone who had loved him unconditionally had long turned into a somber happiness of being grateful to have had such a person in his life and memories that had held him down now carried him forward.
Such thought's brought the events of recent to mind, how unfortunate and trying they had been for the ones he loved. Even after regaining back two of the people he loved they were still just out of his grasp. With the return of his cherished nephew (practically his darling son save for technicalities) many ideals tried to revert back to ten years ago. An impossibility considering times' nuances, he sighed, absentmindedly stroked his beard, and tried to imagine how the present must seem to the past.
Detached, he decided, for it was all the moments experienced in between that connected the two and he thought again of the all seeing entity and how it too must feel detached. He needed a way to connect everyone with his nephew again, an event- something to create a new memory. Then it dawned on him. 'An unbirthday, how fun! What a perfect celebration, a way to have a party for nothing yet what means the most, to celebrate the everyday.' He thought of a camera tucked away, unused, that would seem forgotten but never was and he realized that this was the moment it had been waiting for. He took a few moments to come to terms with what this truly meant for him, not only embracing his nephew but taking another step in closure for his child.
The end was near, he was starting to feel the heat on his fingers, if he wasn't aware it would burn him in carelessness. In contrast the lighter felt heavy in his hands, a reality that was cold, sleek and solid- he thumbed over the engravings and felt his name elegantly scrawled across it. He made his final few drags as long and as slow as he could before finally heeding he could not expect anything more from it- an unbirthday, however, held many expectations.