the {law} of the {heart} .:. { paisley & carter au }

There's a deck that sits in his pocket.

His father had called it a legacy.

His brother considered it a tragedy.

There's nothing more tragic than watching the eyes of his older brother, Jack cry tears for a person that once was alive and their family. A tragedy that still set his heart beating in his chest like some day Mitchell Laws would just get up and walk out. Tears wasted on a man who could just could just get up and walk out of their lives like it never even truly mattered. Except, Carter was still there. A deck in his hands as he shuffled them piece by piece. Card by card, until it was anew.

Not one single card just like it's own, a different story with a different hand.

They still were all just as shitty as the last.

Born to live. Born to die. Either way, there's no born to be happy. There's no born to lose it all for everything. Legacies were fake just like the ones in his hand that could change cards in just a flick of the top. Gravestones were plentiful. Flowers, trees, loving messages to them place over the grave like a blanket meant to solve all of the world's sorrows. And here he was, shuffling a deck above a grave like it would mean something more. A way to sew up the invisible wounds of a lost innocence in a world so cruel. All it did was cut him deeper than before.

Jack's tears mix with the dirt as he speaks out to whoever. There's regrets on his lips. A pain in his chest. A letter in his hand from a boy named Jasper, the man Mitchell had only spoken of once to Carter. The grey blends in with the green and the white of the grass and the letter. Jack stands up, looking away from Mitchell's grave. He's still staring at it though, cards flipping frantically in his hands as Jack grabs his shoulder and squeezes. There's a dull pain that lies within his skin as the words on his tongue are towards himself now.

"Ready to go?"

Eyes catch the tearful ones as Carter says his answer without replying. A nod from his brother's head signals that Jack was heading back to the train that costed them a fortune to get to the capitol from twelve. The Mortuus family having paid them for the organs of Mitchell Laws that now reside in someone else's body in Twelve. In the end, Carter Laws felt like he was overwhelmed by being in the presence of his older brother who cut up bones and flesh. He wasn't meant to die a death of pity from a creature that smelt of mucus and bad breath.

All he can do is shuffle the cards in his hands quicker and quicker, until the wind caught them. A single card fluttering onto Mitchell's grave like it meant to be there. The queen of hearts lays flat upon the grass. There's no point in picking it up as he's too worn out from forcing himself not to cry. Little boys don't cry. Mitchell had told him this before he had left. It seemed reasonable at the time, but now, it felt weak. Little boys don't cry.

But little brothers do cry.

Tears soaked with the pain of a piece of their life gone forever.

It's an unreasonable sob that escapes from the throat sending shocks through the body as the words of you should have done more echo through the mind.



Etched words on stone never truly could show him his brother again.

The Mitch that he knew before the world flipped itself upside down with terror and loss.

The legacy known as Carter Laws rests on his knees now. Born to live, but at the cost of death. There's no card that could change fate or tell the future. Even tarot cards had their own limits. The future that they could see was fake, based on assumptions of a basic human being. There's nothing good in the world anymore, only sorrows that tear at the heart. He's fine though. He's always been fine.

There's a melody of broken promises and cards flipping in time with it. It courses through his veins with a ripe passion of sadness. A sour note that forever remains in his mind as he stares at the grave in front of him. Hand brushes the letters on the front as he looks down the rows to eight, eleven, one, and Hyacinth Mortuus. They all didn't know the Mitchell Laws that he did. They weren't special to Mitchell like Carter was. At least, he hoped not. No one could replace a brother, or so he thought.

Mitchell would have told him he was wrong with the serious look in his eyes and the hollowed holes within them.

There's only one glance towards other graves as he catches the eyes of a girl, hanging around five. Samira Hart. Sacha Dupoint. Either one were more successful than Mitchell had been. Blood upon their hands, unlike Mitchell's own that carried lost memories and the dead. The wind moves as she grows ever so closer. He's leaning closer to Mitchell's grave with fear in his heart. Weakness upon his soul. No one should see him like this. No one deserved to see what a pity he was for crying about an older brother who never came home.

Sleeves wipe at the tears as she makes it over to him.

Eyes meet as he breathes in air from the hollow air.

Words seem to fall from his lips as the hollow feeling vanishes for a second as he needed to be strong.

Not for Mitchell.

For himself.

"You must be Hart's sister?"