Chapter Text
Everyone had always known that Jevil was a little... out of touch with reality. Volatile, unpredictable. A wild card.
Seam knew it too, but rather, was more interested in the thrill that his wildness brought to their games rather than the repercussions it might have beyond them.
(He was a spry young tabby at that time, but his cotton has clotted and his fur has matted since, and in all honesty, he doesn’t care about repercussions anymore.)
But knew his companion closely enough to know the difference between his regular crazy and abnormal crazy.
This was definitely one of those “abnormal crazy” times, especially considering his little friend had spent their entire rehearsal trembling from head to toe, and murmuring under his breath as he tried to focus on what was going on onstage. Of course, difficulty focusing was normal for Jevil. He was Jevil. He was all over the place. Unlike his feline companion, he’d always had a bit of trouble organizing himself when it came to working, and keeping his attention on a single thing was something near impossible for the gremlin-esque Darkener. As for the trembling, vibrating in excitement was not unusual for him.
But this was different. It was not trembling, as a small dog would do, rather shivering as if he were chilly or frightened, and it was not his usual careless absentmindedness. It appeared he was making a conscious effort to stay in touch with the world around him, and was failing.
Seam had not been concerned initially, but his worry grew as the hours passed, and he eventually felt the compulsion to ask Jevil if everything was alright. Perhaps he was ill, or maybe he hadn’t slept well. The young prince, Lancer, had quite powerful lungs for a babe. His cries resounded, day and night, around the whole of Card Castle. Everyone living in it had gotten used to intermittent bouts of rest, woken up by the screaming young spade-ling every few hours. It was bound to have an impact on someone eventually.
Yes, perhaps that was it.
Better to ask, however.
He approached the jester during their lunchtime. He had his head down on the dining table and hadn’t touched any food. The rag-doll’s worry spiked as he saw this, and he placed a paw on the Darkener’s shoulder.
No response.
“...Jevil.” He shook him a little bit. “Are you alright?”
The smaller Darkener shook his head softly.
“...are you ill?” He continued, having ruled out sleep deprivation from his theories. This was too sudden to be sleep deprivation. “...if so, you can take the day off, and I’ll make you some tea if you wish...”
“...not ill.” The fool finally spoke. “...just unwell, unwell...”
His speech was slurred and his lisp was more prominent than usual. The bells on his hat jingled rather pathetically as he rolled his head to the side to face his feline friend.
“...how so, friend?” Seam asked.
“...it’s very cold here.” the jester mused. “...it’s very cold and dark, dark...”
Seam glanced around the candle-lit dining hall of Card Castle.
“...well, of course, it’s dark,” he uttered. “We live in the Darkener kingdom, friend. If you’re chilly, however, you can take my scarf. It will be quite big on you, and cozy. But that does not answer my question-”
He stopped speaking, having caught the royal jester giving him an unsettling toothy grin. It seemed forced and ungenuine, and Seam had never seen such a smile from him before. Jevil, forcing a smile? He was the royal jester. Smiles came naturally to him, and if they didn’t, he’d make up a reason to show one. It was his job.
“You’re funny,” Jevil said through gritted teeth. “You’re hilarious. That’s my job, though. I’m the jester. You’re not the jester.”
The jester flinched as the mage removed his hand from his shoulder to wrap him up in the scarf. He took the cozy cloth and pulled it tighter around himself as he murmured, “too hot, too hot”. Confused, Seam tried to take the cloth back, only to have his paw slapped away by the shivering buffoon.
“...you’re not running a fever, are you?” the cat asked one last time, feeling the jester’s forehead for warmth. None. In fact, he seemed quite alright beyond his trembling and babbling.
“Fever, fever?” The Darkener chuckled. “Not at all, not at all. Once more, I tell you, I am not ill. Simply unwell. It will pass.”
Raising an eyebrow, the mage sat next to his friend, with some difficulty due to his enormous build.
“...what’s up with you, then? You’re not yourself, friend.”
The jester scooted closer to the bulky Darkener.
“...I just feel like the world doesn’t make sense anymore. It’s spinning, spinning, and the world of the Lighteners, it’s changing, changing…. constantly…”
He paused, and pulled the scarf closer to his chest, tying it near his own cloak.
“...but… in the Dark World… have you noticed how at one point, things stop changing here…? Almost as if it’s all… one big… repetitive cycle…?”
Seam placed a paw on Jevil’s shoulder, pressing him into a half-hug. “There’s an adage for that. “History repeats itself”, I suppose. Is that what you’re referring to?”
“...no, no. That’s not it. But… in a way- no, perhaps. I… I really don’t know how to explain it to you, except…”
And here, he fumbled for the deck of playing cards in his pocket.
“...it’s like starting a new round in a game of war. It leads up to something, until you’ve done 26 rounds, and then you start all over again, and you still know that you’ve already played a game of war, but this is a new, new game of war. And just like in every game of war, you win or you lose and it doesn’t matter in the end, because-“
The jester’s voice broke, and he slapped the playing cards onto the table, sending them flying across it and disrupting the lunches of several Darkeners.
“-because they’re always just going to shuffle the deck again and hand out the playing cards again, but no matter what cards you get, the game will be win or lose! Always just win or lose, win or lose, and the game ends and another one of the same starts!”
“...I am not sure I understand, friend.” Seam mewed, a bit in awe at the jester’s outburst.
Jevil put both hands on his temples and exhaled deeply, breaths ragged. His tail was tucked between his legs where he sat. He shook his head in desperation.
“I don’t want to understand either, either,” he whined. “I don’t want to, want to… but is it really possible to ignore an elephant in the room this big?”
One of the cracker animals, who had just been brought out of its cage for rehearsal, seemed to overhear, and trumpeting with its trunk, could be heard saying, “how rude”. Seam mewed at it to buzz off.
“...perhaps it would be best if you took the rest of the day off,” he finished. “Even if you feel alright. Burnout isn’t good for a performer. Maybe it’ll give you time to think things through more calmly, so you can tell me what’s wrong in the way you mean to. How’s that sound?”
The jester sighed deeply. “Perhaps…. Thank you, Seam”.