Broken [Julian]

[Elhaym]

14th Day of Summer, 511 AV

Elhaym's foot was propped up on a pile of pillows meant to be sat on at the low supper table, a black sling holding her injured left arm in place. She had been resting for a solid week in the confines of her home within the Shinyama Monastery. The last of what little art supplies she had retained over the years had been gone for days, and she had grown extremely tired of sleeping… if that were possible. This was the seventh day of her slow paced recovery, and she had actually been reduced to reading. At her side sat a beaten copy of Magic and I, which Elhaym had found quite interesting but had to stop during an account of mishap with projection on the author's part. That had struck a chord perhaps too pure, and now she shuffled through the few books the Viraya had managed to round up around the Monastery as well as her room. Her hands brushed across a leather bound book. It was time worn and rumpled, held closed by a leather cord and stamped with an intricate hand.

"Where did this come from?" Elhaym asked aloud to the Viraya who was sitting quietly at the opposite end of the bedroom. She had been meditating in silence, oblivious to Elhaym's shuffling and grunts through most of the morning (though technically, it would be evening).

"I found it stuffed in back of your wardrobe as I was cleaning out all the ruined uniforms you were trying to hide." She said with a hint of a smirk. The Viraya had at first been quite annoyed at having to wait hand and foot on an Acolyte—not even a full Shinya!—but they soon relented and battled over the favored position of Elhaym's attendant when it became known she treated them much nicer than any Shinya of memory.

Elhaym grumbled about that, surely another notch to add to her increased work load when she was healed. She ran her finger along the journal's surface, and it clicked. She had been shadowing an older Shinya while helping him patrol the city a while back when she had received it. She didn't know where it came from, but he had simply handed it to her when they had crossed paths during their short patrols and asked her to find it's owner and return it. He hadn't sounded urgent, so Elhaym had simply tucked it into her sash and forgotten about it when she had thrown those clothes into the back of her wardrobe. Yet here it was, and she couldn't stomach anymore literature detailing the cost of magics. She need only look to her left to see that.

Flipping it open, Elhaym settled into her mass of blankets and pillows. Initially she thought it was poetry, but it seemed it was a journal of some sorts. Slightly disturbing, and Elhaym was already tossing it aside when something caught her eye. Meredith. She knew that last name. Snatching the journal back, she examined more closely the name adorning the cover of the books. She began pouring over the beginning entries within the journal, slowly coming to the realization that this was Julian's father's writing. Her eyes widened at the content, both bizarre and frightening at the same. This... this was Julian's? She slammed the book closed and began shuffling to get to her feet, much to the protest of the young Viraya. A note lodged in the back had been enough to unsettle her. It was not right to keep this away from Julian, and even less so that she had read it. But she had. She had to give it back to him in person.

"Miss Furuma, you musn't!"

"Oh, I'm just going for a little walk. My leg is stiff."

"Well... at least let me help you get dressed...?"

Elhaym consented, and the Viraya laid out a collection of clothing for her to wear. A silken black coat dominated her ensemble, with a pair of matching silk pants that fit snugly to her form and stopped midway down her calf. A pair of black flats were all she managed; even though she denied enjoying heels but wore them every chance she could, she'd as soon hit her ankle with a hammer than try that right now. Once she had painfully slipped her braced left arm through the sleeves and the soft black sling wound around her, she daintily got to her feet. Pain swelled in her ankle, but it was tolerable.

"Your sword?" The Viraya asked, already holding the golden hilted blade in it's worn and scuffed sheath. It was attached to a black sword belt lined with golden thread in attempt to match the styling of the blade. She hadn't let that blade close from her sight lately, and for good reason.

"No, not today. I don't plan on needing a sword... not that I could use it anyway."

The Viraya nodded, and left the room to replace it on the mounting along with the other two swords in her possession. Elhaym was already limping severely towards the door when she returned, and she immediately went to her side to offer support. With the journal clutched tightly at her side, Elhaym made her way slowly though the Monastery's long halls. As soon as she crossed into the fresh air of the night, she felt better. Her leg was stiff for truth, and it was annoying trying to get around with one arm, but she'd been inside for too long. Step after painful step she made her way through the Monastery's courtyards, her progress slowing to a crawl when she began descending the stairways leading down into the city. After a full bell of pitifully slow walking, she waved the young woman away from her side and continued on alone. Lhavit's populace was out in force, and it felt good to feel among the living again.

It was two bells by the time she managed her way into the inn Julian worked. She'd had to stop and rest so many times that she had become flustered and angry, but she pressed on. After dropping Julian's name and asking if he was there, she was told by a gawky young waiter that he was likely upstairs in his room preparing for his nightly performance. Elhaym groaned at the site of the winding stairs, and the young waiter quickly offered her his arm. She took it while still clutching the leather book, grunting and moaning with every agonizing step. When they finally made it to the top, Elhaym dripped her hand inbetween the divides of her coat and managed to free a couple of Topaz Kina. He accepted them graciously as he motioned towards Julian's door, and departed with his well earned tip. Did people really tip that badly here?

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as her hand retreated twice from knocking at the door. The material inside the journal had been immensely personal, and she hadn't read all of it yet… how would Julian react to her knowing such dark secrets?

"Julian? Are you there?" She called as she finally found the courage to rap in the door with the back of her knuckles. She sighed as she realized she had instinctively spoken in Lhavitian. She hadn't spoken Common in over a week.

"Julian? It's Elhaym. Are you there?"

She took a step back from the door and waited, clutching the journal against her midsection.

[Julian]

Every blonde head caught his eye now. There weren’t many of them, moving within the crowds of Surya Plaza under the city’s colorful and plentiful lighting. Leaning out of his window at the Shooting Star Inn however, he had a good overhead view of the streets. Blondes were tourists, mainly, just as she had been, and even if he only saw one or two passing in his field of view, he did see them. By now, his entanglement with Kila had happened so long ago that his emotions had settled and he had calmed his turmoil into a slow simmer instead of a boiling rage. Forced, practiced apathy now kept his features blank as he watched them with pointless interest, occasionally sipping from the wineglass that hung in one hand. Julian had not been awake very long. His hair remained untied, leaving his wispy raven locks to gently caress his cheeks and grace his shoulders, gently played upon by a cool mountain breeze. Normally, leaving his hair down bothered him deeply, and he did intend to tie it before he went out. Lately however, for some reason… he didn’t mind it as much as he used to. It was as if spending a few moments with his long hair loose allowed him to relax into some secret comfort that he’d denied himself before. Knowing he was to perform soon for the Shooting Star patrons, he had chosen to take a moment to himself. Breathing in the night air and the various aromas of vendor food carts soothed him, as did the red Merlot that he’d chosen to start off his Lhavitian morning. When his glass was empty, the cellist straightened and pulled out of the window, giving the crowds one last glance before turning away. Walking up to his modest desk (or vanity, whatever someone might consider a tall, narrow table with a drawer and a mirror), he set the glass down, inadvertently bumping the uncorked wine bottle that was already there. It was his second glass, after all. Without even hesitating, Julian picked up the bottle and carefully poured another glass. After setting the bottle down again, he turned to his reflection in the mirror. He ran a discerning thumb across his jawline, then a fingertip over his upper lip. “Good morning, Julian,” he muttered flatly, picking up the shaving razor from the desk. The light in the room was arguably insufficient for the task, but he was used to it. Julian shaved so religiously that he could very nearly do it with his eyes closed. Actually, he’d long ago grown fond of Lhavit’s preference to dim lighting, daylight now a harsh invader of dark rooms and signaling a time to sleep. His room was pleasant scenery, full of warm tones illuminated by attractive sconces. He couldn’t stay here much longer. He would have to stop by the Cosmos Center soon to see about an apartment. It felt a little like defeat to admit that, Julian thought as he gently brushed the razor against his face. He’d never really intended to live here. Nothing had really gone according to plan. Nothing at all. Julian tried to avoid his own gray-blue eyes as he studied his reflection. He really did look a little too much like his father. A breath left him as that thought pervaded his mind, and the razor in his hand slowed to a stop. Slowly, his eyes trailed up to meet the gaze in the mirror’s reflection. A light knock suddenly sounded at the door, startling him. His hand jumped, and the razor nicked the underside of his jaw. “Ah! Petch!” The razor clattered to the desk as he rushed to cradle the cut, dabbing at it with the cuff of his sleeve. His curse had drowned out a feminine voice he’d heard, and he only caught the latter half of some Lhavitian phrase. Probably one of the waitresses or the cleaning maids wanting to scour his room. They’d been this early before. “Julian? It’s Elhaym. Are you there?” Elhaym? Julian mouthed the name in bewildered surprise. How unexpected. “Just a moment!” When had he last seen her? A month ago? Dabbing away another swelling of blood under his chin, the cellist turned from his desk and made his way toward the door. He had mostly dressed for his evening, but his hadn’t selected a vest and his collar was still popped out. To at least appear decent, he did button up his black shirt before opening up the door. He noticed her coat first – it was long, attractive, and she wore it well. Immediately after his initial look however, worry filled his face as he spied Elhaym’s sling, which had blended in with her coat. Her face was marred with assorted cuts and bruises, and he suddenly felt a little ashamed that he hadn’t noticed it right away. He frowned, but there was genuine concern in his deep voice. “Good gods, what happened to…” Then he saw the journal in her hand. It looked very much like the one he’d lost a few weeks ago. The only memento of his father. Julian’s mouth ran dry, and he swallowed before finishing his sentence. “…you…?” His eyes went back up to hers, searching them for his journal’s secrets. Julian pulled the door wider and stepped away. “I'm sorry, that was terribly rude. It’s good to see you again, my friend. Please, come in,” he managed to keep his voice level, but it sounded a little strained. He couldn’t even begin to wonder whether she’d read it or not. Instinct told him to remain cautious, though the wine he’d already drank slowly ebbed away at his composure. “You, you look like you’re recovering from something. Are you all right? This is so unexpected, not that I’m complaining.” No, he couldn’t keep this up. He pressed the backs of his fingers against his forehead, then shook his head. “Can I ask where you got that?” he gestured to the journal. “Here, may I? Let me take it off your hands.” It wasn’t a request. His last words were delivered with Djed, using hypnotism to coerce Elhaym into complying. His eyes fell on hers, driving the statement into her directly. It would have only been polite to give Julian what was rightfully his, and if his manipulation was successful, she wouldn't even think of hesitating. Perhaps he didn’t need to impose magic to get the article from her, but after recent events, he was just a little too pressed to want to leave anything to chance.

[Elhaym]

Elhaym's head tilted back in slight shock as Julian opened the door. She'd never seen him without his hair neatly tied behind his head, but it hung down around his shoulders like dark woven silk. A nick on his lower face belied an unsteady hand with a razor, something she wouldn't have thought true for a musician. He stumbled in his speech a bit, probably taken aback by her injured arm. Well enough the Viraya had chosen this black coat; it was really too warm for it even at night, but the rest of her look like she'd spent a night wrestling a porcupine.

"It's kind of a long—... Well, it was given to—" she began to speak softly twice, but Julian seemed a bit flushed. Her words were overridden and perhaps not even heard as he continued. His last words seemed to ring truer than true, and amidst her frustration at being interrupted she was quite suddenly abashed at not having given him the journal as soon as he opened the door. She'd planned to give it to him once she'd gotten comfortable, but her whole body jerked as she offered the journal to him on her way inside. The sudden movement caused her to jerk her injured arm at the shoulder, evoking a harsh cry of pain that doubled her over. Elhaym breathed through clenched teeth for a few seconds, her eyes so tight wrinkles spread from the corners of her eyes. She heard a slight buzzing in her ears that might have been Julian, or the sound of her teeth grinding.

"I'm fine! Just… need to sit down."

Elhaym ignored him as she limped severely towards a thick padded chair in the corner of his room. It was a bit darker than the more brightly lit rooms of the Monastery, but at least the inn saw fit to cater to foreign visitors with a chair. She didn't think she could manage folding herself up and sitting down on the ground right then. Easing herself into the chair with as much grace as she could muster, she crossed her legs so that her injured ankle was slightly off the ground.

"Julian, I did read it. Not all of it, but I read enough. I'm sorry if that makes you angry, but there it is. I… "

Elhaym's eyes wandered the room as she trailed off, brushing across one belonging to another until they came to rest on the bottle of wine and the full glass already poured next to it. She looked back up at Julian again, a frown washing over her face. This early in the night? The man must have coveted that journal, but she didn't think misplacing it would be enough to drive a man headfirst into the bottle the moment he woke. The smell of the stuff was suddenly heavily pronounced in the air. Maybe he'd already had a glass.

"I thought you were stopping. A little every now and again Julian, that's all fine and good, but… guh… I don't even know what to say. I feel horrible for what I read in that book Julian, but I won't pity you for it. Your father was insane for truth, but the self doubt I read about… that's what bothered me. How can you doubt your love? You felt it at the time, that made it real. Oh Gods, I don't know. Give me that."

Elhaym waved her hand at the brimming glass of wine. From what she knew, she'd probably have the urge to spit it out as soon as she sipped it, but her leg was throbbing and her whole arm was still ringing from jerking it earlier. She needed to take the edge off."Unless you happen to have any rice liquor in here…" she added a moment later.

"I just meant to drop that off is all. I don't know Julian, I barely knew you before, but now I know too much. What am I supposed to do? Pretend I don't know all those things when I pass you by and just nod? I know Kota told you about my past. That wasn't fair, but he always does that. He doesn't think I should hide my past from people, because it lets them know what I stand for. In a sense I understand, but it still pisses me off that you know. It pisses me off that I read all that too. So do we just ignore it, or do you want to tell me about it? I can listen. I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a while."

She nodded down to her leg, and then tilted her head towards her immobilized arm. She tried to hide the awkwardness of the situation by casually sipping from the glass, and forcing her face to remain steady as she swallowed the vile tasting stuff. It was awkward, but she felt horrible for Julian. She wouldn't compare one past or pain to another, but she knew loss. The way he etched those words onto paper spoke to her how damaged he really must be. She was determined to see what there was to be shared between them.

And not faint this time.

[Julian]

She gave him the journal, and he had to keep himself from snatching it away from her. The quick way she handed it over apparently sent a jolt through her body, aggravating her injuries. Julian’s eyes flickered up at her worriedly, laced with guilt, but he calmly took the article from her and squeezed it in his hand. He shouldn’t have been so forceful. It was clear that she was in pain. Had she really walked all the way here from the Monastery? His guilt was two-fold. Elhaym made her way toward a chair, and now that their exchange had been temporarily broken, he turned around himself and walked toward his desk. He left the door wide open, though he desperately yearned to close it. This was a sensitive matter to him, but he still remembered his conversation with Kota. Likely anything Julian said or did with Elhaym would make it back to him. It was a gentlemanly thing to do. Closing the door could mottle his apparent intentions. Julian said nothing as he stood over the desk, pausing to open the journal and flip through it quietly. Turning the book over, he checked the folded letter inside the cover. It had been moved. His facial expression twitched, but he closed the book and set it on his desk. From nearby, he picked up his wife’s ring and set it on top of the leather bound tome. Hagiri remained nearby, sitting with his collection of treasured mementos. The cellist turned around and folded his arms, listening to Elhaym as he leaned against the desk. “Did you,” he said softly – not really a question, but a personal confirmation. “I thought you were stopping.” Hesitantly, Julian looked up at her, tilting his head in question. Then he followed her eyeline to his glass of wine, and frowned. Oh, was that how it was going to be? She’d been privy to all his personal secrets and now she saw fit to police him? How presumptive. Julian worked his mouth, pondering forming words, but he lost the will before he found his voice. He merely complied with her request, picking up the wine glass and walking across the room to offer it to her. The woman could keep her grace. Julian could take the bottle. As he strode back to his spot at the desk, he answered her in a quiet tone. “Afraid I don’t.” “You read it,” he repeated quietly after she was finished speaking. He ran his fingers through his hair, starting at the top of his head and brushing back, clearing all of his raven locks from his shoulders. He probably looked a little more womanly than usual with his long hair let down. He licked his dry lips before he continued. “Kota did tell me about your past, your origins. I did think it was forward of him but I didn’t want to add any insult telling him he shouldn’t. Far be it from me to speak for you.” Julian addressed that first. It was a minor issue. He didn’t mind knowing about Elhaym’s life. She seemed to mind knowing about his. Arms still crossed, Julian lowered his head, resting his chin in one hand. A bit of moisture under his jaw reminded him that he was bleeding, and with an annoyed huff he cleaned it away again with his cuff. The shirt was black, anyway. “I’m not angry,” he said tersely. If this had happened before dealing with Kila, he may not have had the practice to weather this sort of invasion of privacy. “Just… surprised. I lost that journal weeks ago. It’s the only thing left of my father’s.” He looked up. “How long have you had it? No, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just… assume you know everything.” Julian shrugged. “So what? I think you’re making a larger issue out of this than it needs to be. Yes, you should have returned it to me sooner. Yes, I would have preferred that you didn’t read it. But what’s done is done. There isn’t really much to be said. I was born rich, made an orphan, my father was a murderer, I tried to stop drinking, and my wife is dead.” The cellist half-turned and picked up the wine bottle by the neck, tipping it up and taking a drink from it. He swallowed a few more times afterward, clearing the wine fully from his mouth. “Perhaps it’s better you know, Elhaym. The gods know I would have never really bought this up in conversation. I can list off names of people I’ve met in Lhavit since my arrival last Spring, yours included, though I’m not sure I’d go as far as calling any of them my friend. This… might change things. For you, at least.” He stared at the patterns on the floor thoughtfully. “We can talk, if you like. I only have a short time before I’m expected to play.” Julian gestured to his cello. “Do you want to know how she died, Elhaym? I’m not sure I mentioned it. Actually, no, I’m certain that I didn’t. I’ve never told anyone. Any of this. Not in its entirety.” Julian paused, letting a noticeable silence settle in before he worded his explanation. It was a very delicate thing to discuss. “I killed her. Not in the same sense that my father murdered my mother, but she is dead because of me. I came home in the late evening to find her corpse. She’d taken a knife to herself. And don’t give me that tripe, that it isn’t my fault, or that I had no control over it. I had plenty of control. I left her. If I had been there to stop her, if we’d never had children, if she just never met me, she’d still be alive and I wouldn’t be carrying this burden of guilt.” Julian scratched his temple and looked up at her. “And don’t, honestly. Don’t tell me how I felt about her. I know now with more clarity than ever what my feelings were. She is dead for absolutely no reason.” The cellist smiled and shook his head. “My father was insane. But do you know the worst part, Elhaym? He’s still alive.” Julian pointed to his own chest. “Everything he was is still in me. And it takes every ounce of strength I have NOT to BECOME him.” Julian stepped away from the desk, gripping the bottle in his hand as he crossed the room. “Now you know why I was so upset when you told me I’d killed that thief. It’s just another step on this path I can’t escape from, Elhaym. All I can do is slow myself down.”

[Elhaym]

Elhaym rolled her eyes and had to resist throwing her mobile arm in the air when he accused of her making a big deal of the situation. She was trying to be courteous, a quite new development in her repertoire of social skills since coming to Lhavit. She sighed and sipped the dry tasting liquid as he went on, shifting uncomfortably and not trying to hide her discomfort. Her entire body was still healing, and sitting in a high backed chair wasn't as comfortable as she had assumed.

Her head rolled back in indignation as he snapped at her. Was she so predictable? Well, she had been thinking that it wasn't his fault that his wife took her own life. She'd stuck herself, apparently. If she was so weak, it would have been Julian or the next man to come along, no doubt. Sometimes men seemed to think they were omnipotent in their ability to hold a woman's fascination, and seemed to forget that someone else's actions weren't always inherently linked to theirs. Not to say she didn't think it was possible, but the whole concept irritated her.

"I'm becoming Sooyun Furuma whether I want to or not Julian. I was becoming Sooyun before I knew who she was. That doesn't mean I have to be her. I'm still my own woman. My actions and thoughts are mine, and no one can say otherwise. You can fight your fate tooth and nail until the day you die, and with your last breath you'll realize you've changed nothing with your struggle. You don't want to become your father? Then quit comparing everything you mess up to some petched up mistake your father made. You killed a man. Own it Julian. Don't let yourself think you're following someones footsteps just because you see a similarity. If you keep doing that… well, eventually you'll just convince yourself that you've become everything you hate in your father even if you're not."

A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on her brow as she spoke, and her hand quivered. She set her glass down beside her and unfolded her legs, looking around the room absently and finally settling her gaze on Julian. The glass was only half empty so it probably wasn't that, but she was getting hot. The silk jacket she wore wasn't meant for a summer night.

"Help me take this off... I'm suffocating."

She gestured to her jacket, and waited for him to help support her to stand. He'd have to untie the sling from her back, but she could fumble the thin buttons herself down the middle. The tricky part was getting her left arm free of the sleeve, a task which no doubt would involve muttered curses and multiple occurrences of Elhaym yelping in pain. Once it was free however, she could hobble back to the chair. She hadn't bothered with the sophistication of the jacket when it came to the garment underneath. It was thin cloth dampened by sweat that clung to her breasts and midriff. She didn't seem to notice. Her now exposed arms showed cuts and scrapes of varying severity, and her left arm was wrapped tight in padded bandages and braced with something beneath the wraps. As she motioned to her sling to have him help her put it back on, she simply shook her head at any questions or words directed at her injury. She would not give pity, and she would not accept it either. Her injury was because of her stupidity and pride, and she intended to remedy both of those shortcomings in the coming days. At last, she resettled herself in her chair with a look of slightly higher comfort.

"You are your own man, Julian Meredith. Maybe no one's ever told you that knowing what I know, but you are." She said in a softer voice than before, running a hand through her hair and leaning forward as she spoke again. "I hate it that your father lives, maybe as much as you do. I would want him bad. I'd hold him down while you drove your knife into his heart if I could. We've shed blood together before, and I'd do it again. The world needs less of his kind, and hers."

No doubt who Elhaym was referring to by hers, if Julian had remembered what Kota had said. Elhaym had met a man once who abhorred murder for any reason, even though he was more capable of defending himself than she. She'd hated that mindset, considered it weakness. She still did, though in a slightly more responsible sense these days. It was far too much to ask to convince Julian of anything right now, half drunk and likely far more disturbed by her knowledge than he let on. She would try.

[Julian]

It was impossible to know what another person would think after reading the extent of Rowan Meredith's thoughts. There was a frightening depravity to his words, but what bothered Julian the most was that his father seemed completely lucid through the entire thing. It was a harrowing sense of awareness, of that very lucidity, that drove him to bitterness, violence, and murder. Though Julian didn't want to admit it, the bastard was right: caring for his own mother WOULD have destroyed him, and likely shaped his life into something dull and pathetic. The most disturbing thing about Rowan's writing was that it... made sense. It was almost difficult to blame him. After downing another swig of wine (it was an insult to winemakers everywhere that he was drinking it with such boorishness), Julian turned to Elhaym, realizing that her plight was actually quite similar to his own. It put a dent in his otherwise very secure sense of self-loathing when she made a point - he did constantly compare himself to Rowan. Perhaps he had already drawn his conclusions and was simply justifying them with convenient evidence, a method that made no real sense. How ironic that a woman could best him in a contest of logic. Or just embarrassing. He didn't give the idea much weight. "Perhaps," he replied dully, not wanting to give her due credit. "It's just bizarre, reading it. His thoughts move the same way mine do. It's almost as if I wrote it myself, in a fit of... some kind of alcohol-driven pessimism. Rowan was depraved, but in some ways... he was a visionary." Julian's eyes crept across the room hesitantly, settling on his cello leaned up near the door. "He taught me to play that, when I was very young. He only showed me a few things before he lost his right arm. After that he barely noticed me. The rest of what I know is self taught, or advice I took from a few master musicians." Julian's stare lingered. As a six year old, he really was a sight trying to play that thing. It had easily dwarfed him. "I suppose it's some sort of melancholy ode to everything he was that was worth respecting, the fact that I still play." The cellist shook his head. What a dreary topic to drone on about. Still, it was good to talk about it to a real, breathing face for once. Occasionally he'd talked at length with Liara about it, but much like Evelyn, she only tended to see what she wanted to see. Her reassurance was so often hollow and loaded. Elhaym had little to gain by trying to convince Julian of anything different than what he believed. It was a nice thought, that she'd put out the effort. Julian was surprised and a little stunned at Elhaym's sudden request, and he hesitated for a moment as he looked at her, wondering if he should. Setting his bottle down on the desk and wiping his mouth, he eventually nodded and walked over to help the woman with her coat. Because the topic was so present in the room, he couldn't help but think of his father after he'd lost his arm to a critical injury during a sword duel. He was livid with curses and insults whenever he had the servants help him change, so Julian was as gentle as he could possibly be with Elhaym, if only to prevent drawing the same ire from her. Seeing the extent of her injuries across her bare arms, the cellist made a quiet noise of astonishment. "Is this from your training?" he asked her, though she didn't seem to want to speak of it. After carefully slipping her coat from her broken arm, uttering a few quiet apologies as he did, he tossed the coat casually over his own shoulder just for the moment. He used his free hands to retrieve her sling and help her get it back over her arm. "Every time I meet up with you, you're half dead. You really shouldn't have come all the way here to deliver my journal. I'm grateful you did, but you could have sent a servant. I imagine Kota will be more than annoyed if he sees you on your feet in a state like this." Though he doesn't seem to think very much of you. The words were silenced before they slipped out of his mouth. Shaking his head in silent disapproval at himself, Julian took the coat from his shoulder and gently laid it on his bed. Casually lying on the bedcovers, the silken article looked a little too suggestive, at least to him. He had to smile as she suggested helping him kill Rowan, accompanied by a breathy laugh. "Now that's an attractive idea." Time was still ticking by, and the head waiter would be expecting to see Julian show up soon. Music was not a necessary service, however, and a little tardiness wouldn't hurt anything. The musician stepped back over to his desk, picking up a ribbon and beginning to pinch his hair at the base of his head. Quite deftly he began to tie his ponytail with both hands, the same way he'd done thousands of times. Probably thousands, anyway. "But... I can't walk down that path. Forget what you read. I was just angry when I wrote that I would actually kill him. I can't start justifying murder to myself. The thief, I can live with. I just worry if I start playing judge and executioner... I won't be able to stop." He snorted softly. "You know, I never felt an ounce of pity for that street thug? I relive that moment in my dreams. Every time I do, I always twist the knife." Julian spotted Elhaym's wineglass in the mirror, and frowned. She hadn't drank much. Not everyone liked red wine, and he felt a little guilty that she was having trouble adjusting her palate. A comment that he probably shouldn't have said slipped through his defenses under a guise of innocence that fooled even him. "If you don't like the merlot, I have another bottle of chardonnay lying around here. And some sherry." Before he was finished speaking, he realized Elhaym might glower in disapproval, so he added, "I nearly broke Liara's arm once. Smashed every bottle of liquor I owned, after that. Now that she's dead, I don't see any reason to stave myself. My life is in shambles and I have few comforts." More self pity. He sighed. Finished with his hair, Julian straightened again, then turned and plucked a crimson silk vest from his wardrobe. "Thinking on it, I'm glad you read it. It's... liberating, to not have any secrets, not be hiding anything. After Liara, I was certain there'd never be another person to know me for who I was. Maybe she never did." Never mind the hypnotism. That was a minor detail. Friend or not, Elhaym was still Shinya, and there were certain things that simply wouldn't benefit her to know about.

[Elhaym]

"I'm fine. This tastes like mule piss." She said absently regarding the wine. She wasn't much for true sophistication, though she didn't understand how drinking something that tasted like it fermented in a latrine equated to sophistication. At last, she just nodded at Julian when he spoke about his desire to drink. She wasn't here to babysit, but he would be better off without the stuff if he could manage.

"I understand your relief. I guess It's why I really don't try to stop Kota from telling my tale even if it irritates me. Everyone in the Shinya knows exactly who I am and what I stand to do. They know my temper, they know my need for vengeance. In a way, them knowing made it... less prominent in my mind? With all these men and women I don't know looking at me and giving a nod or offering a bow, I know it's kind of stupid but I feel like they're with me on some level. They know what I'm about."

Elhaym exhaled and leaned back in her chair, gently maneuvering her injured arm's shoulder to a slightly more comfortable position. In an awkward display she managed to take the shoe off her likewise injured leg by pushing at it with her other foot until it flopped onto the floor. She let out a sigh of relief at that; the ankle was still swollen. "I know I don't look like much Julian, to you I mean. You always see me hurt, or weak. Maybe I am weak, I don't know." She said with as much a shrug as she could manage. "But I can help you, if you let me. I may need some help some day too, you know. I sure petching could have used it a few days ago."

The ambient noise of gathering people was slowly floating through the open door, a courtesy that Elhaym had both noticed and been thankful for. She felt comfortable with Julian, especially now that he had met Kota and they seemed to have gotten along reasonably well. Still, she felt better for him keeping it open. An unspoken gesture of respect, she supposed. She gripped the railing of the chair, and began to push herself up to her feet.

"Do you have to go down there soon? I just wanted to return that, but I don't know if I'm up for walking all the way back to the Monastery yet. Maybe I can listen to you play again. I wish I could hear you and Kota play together." She said, the last bit trailing off a pair of pursed lips. She'd never been a big fan of music, but Kota's playing stirred her heart among other things.

Elhaym looked to the bed where her jacket lay, and briefly considered asking Julian to help her back into it. She had cooled off, and didn't really want to advertise to the world how banged up she was anymore than she had to with her obvious limp and broken arm. She considered it, but opted not to. She'd only spoken to Julian once without being covered in blood or fainting, and now she was here looking like she had been thrown from a cliff… har har har. She had been warned not to use the flux during her recovery as she would injure her arm yet again, but projection was different. Julian probably would not notice her arm go limp in the sling as the astral core peeled away from it's shell, dancing about to her side as if waking from a long slumber and stretching.

She clutched the jacket by the collar with her invisible arm, hoisting it into the air and raising her right arm as she slowly guided it into the sleeve. "You don't mind, right?" She said with a smirk as her astral arm slowly contorted in a quite unnatural way to drape the other side of the coat over her shoulder. Tugging it with her physical arm, she managed to straighten it to a point where it should be secure to walk around in without falling off. Smoothing out the fabric where she could she muttered under her breath, "I am not so weak."

Doubtful that Julian could have understood her, but it was not truly meant for his ears. "Do you think you can even play with so much wine in you? You look drunk, to be honest."

Well, he did.

[Julian]

Mock hurt crossed Julian's face at Elhaym's remark, and his eyes moved down to his wine bottle. "It's not for everyone, wine. For me, it's just self indulgent pretentiousness. I can drink anything, honestly. Beers, harder liquors, what have you. But I figure if I'm going to be a shameless drunk, I might as well do it with a bit of class." He flashed her a cheeky smile before downing another mouthful of the bitter wine. And anyway, empty wine bottles so fondly reminded him of his mother, pathetic as that was. She really was a lovely woman. By now he'd mostly forgotten her face, but he remembered specifically thinking that about her quite often as a young boy. Julian found it fascinating, even flattering that Elhaym would speak to him about her own personal matters, just as she would the Shinya. Or presumably so. Kota had voiced his concern on this, which had first brought it to Julian's mind. It was always a compliment when someone with such exclusive taste would invite another into their private circle. "I don't think you're weak Elhaym. Reckless, perhaps, but I'm certain that if you weren't a walking corpse, you could have me on the ground and bleeding without breaking a sweat." His eyes lingering on the floor, Julian tilted his head in thought. "I have a weakness for strong women. They were a pastime for me, when I was a teenager. It always felt more rewarding to conquer a girl when I had to put effort into it." He raised an eyebrow and glanced up. "Excuse me if I offend. I was a passionate youth." Julian tapped one of his earrings with a nail, as if it were somehow evidence to further his point. The cellist shook his head. "I can go down there any time I like, really. The head waiter is usually too busy to notice when I arrive." And easy to hypnotize into not caring whether Julian was tardy, in that state. "But I should go soon. I'm terrible at conversation when I'm not faking something." His gray eyes locked on her discarded shoe, then moved to study her. She was in obvious discomfort. He was even about to offer a massage or a foot rub, but it would have only been out of obligation. She was no lover of his and he had no reason to play games for her approval. "So what happened, honestly? Tell me 'the other guy' looks much worse." Elhaym didn't look like she was about to talk about it, but he was entirely unsure. Pity, he didn't do so well. It wasn't that he found it pointless or insulting, he often just didn't feel it in excess, or know how to express it when he did. He'd appreciated that Elhaym didn't shower Julian in sympathy after learning about his life (it would have surprised him if she did), because really nothing would be adequate. Reality was just that, and there was no getting around it - one just had to deal with it. Satisfied with this train of thought, Julian picked up the wine cork from his desk and drove it into the neck of the bottle, sealing it in with a harsh tap with the ball of his palm. "If you'd like to rest a while, you can take the bed if it will help," Julian offered as he gestured to it with a cant of his head. "I'll be downstairs playing for a few hours. I can leave you the key to my room so long as you lock it when you leave and then give the key to me before you head home. I trust you won't steal anything, and if you do, I know where you live." He smiled briefly. Julian could be upset about his journal later. His wine-soaked mind was still reeling from Kila to be guilty about this polite incursion. At least Elhaym wasn't torturing him with her knowledge. "Or I can help you downstairs right now. It's not an offer out of pity, but if you trip on your injured foot and tumble down the stairs, it would make me look bad." As Elhaym used projection to slip her jacket on, Julian only belatedly noticed that any unnatural means had been used. He squinted his eyes and studied her in fascination, not familiar with more overt uses of the magic. He'd seen some of the other Shinya use it, over at the Shinyama Pavilion, so it made sense that she knew it. Still, it was interesting, and he tried to sense any use of Djed, just to see if he could as another wizard. "Is that... projection? Interesting. I don't understand the first thing about magic. I always hear it's a double-edged blade." He thought about using hypnotism to convince her of that misleading comment, but decided it might prove counter-productive, and that his own tact would be sufficient. She said something in Lhavitian, but he assumed it was some sort of aside. "Perhaps I can trouble you to teach me some of the language," Julian said suddenly to shift the topic. "I always suspect the Lhavitians nearby are talking about me when they chortle amongst themselves." He took a breath and held it. "It... would be something to talk about. I'm not so good with sharing but I can certainly try. I'd be interested to hear more about your aspirations from your own mouth, instead of Kota's. And your magic, too." Grabbing the room key from the desk and slipping it in his pocket, Julian crossed the room and picked up his cello by the neck. "No, I don't mind at all. And you should bring Kota some time soon and he can join me. I'm certain the patrons would be honored to hear a Shinya play violin." Elhaym's comment made him chuckle, and he shook his head. "I'm not drunk, though I'm not far from it. Actually I find playing from my heart is a bit easier with a quarter bottle in me. Otherwise my playing is too... structured and deliberate. It's hollow." He moved for the door. "Will you be staying here or shall we head down? It makes no difference to me, and either way I can escort you back to the Monastery when you're ready to head back."

[Elhaym]

Elhaym nodded as he offered to let her stay for a while, a somewhat risqué proposition if she weren't sure of his polite intentions. She managed a slight grin when he mentioned her falling on her face, and had to hold back a rough comment about not trusting his sorry half drunk first thing in the morning ass to support her down the stairs. Her grin faded as she chewed the side of her lip to suppress it; he really didn't deserve a scathing comment like that. Julian had seen his fair share of troubles, and if her memory served her correctly this was the first time a man openly admitted his problem to her and even spoke of his own regrettable actions while under the influence instead of using it as an excuse for them.

His reaction to her overt use of projection was slightly calmer than most, though she supposed anyone who had been to the Shinyama Pavilion once would have seen enough not to be shocked by it. A double edged blade, he says? Elhaym snorted as he spoke the words, the truth embedded far deeper than he could possibly know! She'd have to tell him about the other edge on that blade soon. It troubled her greatly, even terrified her. She had to face it though, and face it she did every day. Hence, her muttered words as if to steel herself… "I am not so weak."

Elhaym knuckled the small of her back, and shifted her weight onto her good leg. Her foot was throbbing so bad by this time that she was positive it had not been a good idea to go limping around the city. He seemed primed to go downstairs and offered one final time to help her down now, but with her foot throbbing she couldn't do it.

"No, if you don't mind I'm going to stay up here for a while. I wouldn't mind teaching you a little Lhavitian sometime, I've just gotten used to speaking it recently but I'm sure I can teach you when you're being made fun of. I know a few Acolytes who still dart away when they see me in the Pavilion know that they know I know what they've been saying about me for all these months."

Elhaym chuckled at the memories of those two bald little bastards ducking away from her every chance they got. The things they had said were so juvenile that she almost hadn't been able to get angry... almost. She waved Julian on as he neared the door.

"You look nicer with your hair tied back. You shouldn't stop doing it… it suits you. I'll be up here when you're done."

* * * * *

As Julian made his departure, Elhaym realized with a start that she still wielded her astral arm. It was becoming far more natural to do so, after so many months. She closed her eyes to begin the process of reattachment, but even before the brief feeling of emptiness sheathing it caused could take over, she stopped. She'd gone a week with only one arm, and it was nice to have some semblance of two appendages. She shuddered. A double edged sword. When this sword was shown to it's prospective user, it seemed to gleam and shine like a thousand suns, promising to slay the wielder's enemies and never betray. Yet once worn, one of those edges began to rust and corrode into something vile. It was faint at first, but it was there. One did not simply use projection, it became a part of you. A part of you that could not always control. She had taken to using her projection more for day to day tasks, careful not to overextend herself but daring not hold it in for long. There had been instances of… stray thoughts, compelling her to use it when she wouldn't have normally. It terrified her. It sickened her that she gave in to the urges before they even came as a defense mechanism, but there it was. She could not bear the thought of something controlling her, so instead she told herself she was controlling it.

Without ado she limped about the room, straightening what little she could find to straighten with her ghostly arm. It was becoming more natural. She couldn't see it, but she knew it was there and could feel it in the way you could feel and control your flesh. The room was nicely furnished, but in a way it was quite minimalist. She supposed that was just the way of the world these days. She'd always thought a room outside the cold stone of Syliras would somehow be grander, but if not for the crystalline structure of Lhavit she often thought it would be just as drab. She pushed the wine bottle back further on the desk, and briefly considered searching for the rest of Julian's stash (and dumping them out). Old habits died hard. She'd allow Julian his creature comforts.

A noise at the door sent her spinning, and in her haste it surprised Elhaym how deftly she was able to bend and maneuver her the spectral limb up and over the bottle rather than plowing it over and sending it to the floor to shatter. A maid was standing in the doorway, frowning and shifting from foot to foot. Obviously she was not expecting anyone else to be in the room (and likely intended to spread a whole load of gossip regarding it throughout the staff).

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, I'll… I'll come back later."

Elhaym's mouth contorted into a oafish frown, but her eyes widened and she near shouted for the woman to come back as she seemed to float away down the hall of the inn. Limping forward, she thrust her astral arm backwards and away from her to keep from accidentally brushing the woman with it once she turned back and approached her. A few courteous words were exchanged in Lhavitian, and the woman bounded off for a quill and paper. Upon her return Elhaym stooped over Julian's vanity and composed a message to be delivered to Dian Hamado Kota, telling him where she was and that she would return to the monastery later that night. Kota trusted Julian, and wouldn't be irritated… she hoped. With the woman scurrying off, Elhaym felt that the notion that she was involved with the Shinya — though in what capacity remained unknown — may stifle any rumor spreading. She pulsed her eyebrows up and down rapidly and smirked at her ingenuity.

At last she hobbled over to his bed, and braced her ascent onto it's padded surface with her good arm while feebly aiding the effort with her wavering projected limb. It was nowhere near the strength of her real arm, and while lifting a coat or pushing a bottle was within her ability supporting her full weight was well beyond it. She managed well enough with what she could muster, and once she had propped herself up against the thick headboard she began to snatch the stuffed pillows from the other side with an invisible grip, sliding them nearer to her good arm to pull behind her head. Once comfortable, she at last relinquished control of her astral body. With her eyes closed, she laid the astral atop the physical and began the steady process of merging the two. When feeling returned to her fingertips, she instinctively flexed them by curling them into a fist and back. The pain that greeted her from the movement made her eyes flutter. How could she be so stupid?

Grumbling, she scooted down a bit to get more comfortable and propped her leg up on the additional pillows she had managed to position. As the surging pain in her arm ebbed, so did her resolve to stay awake. Her eyes fluttered in the dim light of the room, and when Julian returned she would be fast asleep on his bed.

[Julian]

Julian chuckled with Elhaym at the thought of her retribution on anyone who dared ridicule her. Given what he'd heard of her temper, he anticipated that a few broken noses were had, if not worse. Julian lingered in the doorway, giving a softer smile when she complimented his hair. It was after a few seconds' pause that he actually said anything in response. "Thank you. I think so, too." It surprised him that Elhaym seemed comfortable with sleeping in his bed while he went off to play. Granted, she did look like hell and certainly needed rest, but it definitely had been a risqué suggestion. He decided not to comment on it. Still, he couldn't help thinking that whenever he returned to sleep in his own bed, long after she'd gone, the sheets and covers would smell pleasantly like a woman. Instead he simply nodded, drawing the key from his pocket and setting it on the corner of the bed. Shifting his cello to his other hand, Julian stepped back toward the door and took the handle. Momentarily, his eyes flickered to his journal. What would Elhaym do when left to her own devices? Would she read more of it? No... that didn't seem likely. If she'd had it all this time, she would've already scoured all the information she wanted out of it. It wouldn't matter now, what she knew. He sighed - but masked the sigh with a massive exhale - and let go of her slight against him. The alcohol was making him anxious. "Very well. Get some rest. I'll be downstairs whenever you wake up." Bowing his head one final time, he shut the door and turned toward the hallway. After only a few steps, Julian lost his composure and leaned against the wall on his shoulder, pressing his forehead into his palm. The hand slid up over his forehead and he ran his fingers into his hair, letting go of a shuddering breath. He was upset, but he wasn't exactly sure why. It didn't matter that Elhaym knew anything - it didn't change anything for her to know. It even opened up the possibility of a genuine friendship, which was perhaps a prospect Julian wasn't entirely prepared to navigate. It was so much easier to just use people, to flash them a smile and speak politely and then take what you want. That was the very idea of hypnotism, and likely his true interest in it: control. Control of others, so others didn't control him. Rowan had been driven mad by that very concept: controlled by the people around him, subsequently muting the cries of his own heart. So why was Julian still so tormented? It was a simple answer. He was still a novice. He'd get better, and then he'd find a greater peace of mind. The cellist parted his lips, still struggling to get a control on his breathing. He squeezed the neck of his cello, feeling its taut strings press into his fingers. It was the drudging up of issues that had disheveled him - Elhaym's knowledge of Rowan, specifically. Her counterpart, Sooyun, could not possibly mean the same thing that Rowan had to him, though it did mean she could empathize to a point. She didn't see Sooyun's face staring back at her whenever she looked into a mirror, didn't have the memories of a wise, smiling father teaching her how to hold a cello bow and how to properly press it to the strings. Bastard. Julian never saw that murderer, never knew the darker side of Rowan until after he had already disappeared. The son was left with unrest and questions that had remained unanswered through all of these years. "Sir, are you all right?" A soft woman's voice speaking in Lhavitian brought Julian to look up. A petite young woman in a cleaning maid's uniform stood before him in the hallway. "What?" he had asked her, half whispering, prompting her to try another language. "Are you feeling ill?" she asked in Common. Swallowing, Julian smiled weakly and shook his head. "I'm fine," he answered in a low, dulcet tone. Those were the words he had said, and the ones she'd heard, but the hypnotic message he'd inserted relayed something entirely different. Come here, the tone of his voice beckoned as her eyes met with his. Not understanding why she felt an urge to suddenly be closer to him, cautious curiosity filled her face she did as he requested. The maid moved in until she close enough that he could smell her. Julian lifted his hand and delicately placed it on her shoulder, then ran it lightly down her upper arm. His hand paused and then softly squeezed, holding her firmly enough that she couldn't pull away. Relax. You can trust me, the touch of his hand told her, intermingled with the soothing whisper of his gentle exhale. The woman was tense, and her breathing quickened, but she didn't try to tug away. The musician leaned in close enough to brush his cheek against hers and sigh against her neck. He felt the maid put her hand on his arm. "You should go. You have work to do," he told her lowly, letting go of her arm and backing away. Stop imagining things, his words implied. The maid nodded, then as Julian moved past her toward the stairs, she blinked rapidly in confusion. What... was that?! Had that really happened? It was so inappropriate... Julian was a long-time guest and he was always pleasant to her, but he wouldn't really... Shaking the bewilderment from her head, she rubbed her face and sighed, then continued on to do her work. As for Julian, he was satisfied. So much effort into hypnotizing one woman had left him a little lightheaded, but he didn't mind. The idea that his friend, a woman, would be lying in his bed had been more than a little distracting, and sharing a moment with the maid had relieved some of his stress (while aggravating it in other, but manageable ways). It was enough that with the sound of his voice, he could control another person, and take command of a moment. With so many of his private issues stirred to the surface, it was difficult to remember having any semblance of control over anything. His friendship with Elhaym had been a struggle from the start. She was difficult and stubborn, and he was unused to dealing with a woman on her own terms. To him, the word "platonic" was so dull, and practicing a genuine friendship with a woman was embarking on new territory. He didn't like not being in control, but sharing it was not altogether unbearable. It would just take... patience. Practice. And occasional surrender to vices like he'd just done. The head waiter was busy when he arrived downstairs, so Julian hurried to his usual spot and began playing as if he'd already been there a short while. He started with a slow, quiet tune, which then gradually became louder and more lively. Eventually the sound of it caught the waiter's attention, and the two crossed eyes briefly. The waiter grimaced politely and waved, then returned to his job. Julian's presence made known, he slowed the song to something more appropriate. The Vexation of Certain Scorned Women sounded from the instrument: a slow, subtly angry sonnet about the pain of rejection and a desire for vengeance. Julian had first heard the song in Syliras, composed by a woman who Liara had known. The title and intention of the music didn't exactly fit Julian's circumstances, but the quiet anger, the abject loss of control, and the shock of betrayal, the emotions the song evoked sat with him well. As he drew out the melody with the cello's bow, carefully manipulating the four strings at the top of the neck with deft fingertips, he softly swayed his head to the music. His eyes occasionally lilted closed, but only for a brief moment before he had to reopen them to watch the strings and choose his chords. The loud hum of the cello carried through the room as the tingling vibration of the strings reverberated through him. Lost in his music, nearly two bells passed before Julian realized Elhaym still hadn't come down from upstairs. His eyes scanned the Inn's patrons, but he didn't see her bandaged arm or her silken black coat. She must have still been in his room. Though it really hadn't been all that long, he was sure wouldn't have been more than an hour. A touch of concern quickened his thoughts, and he rose to his feet. His fingertips were burning from the harshly rigid cello strings, and he decided now was a good time for a quick break. After an exchange with the head waiter, Julian took his cello upstairs and reappeared within his room. Elhaym was still sleeping in his bed, her distinctly feminine frame forming attractive shapes under the twisted blankets. A smile appeared on his lips before he could stop it, but it was quickly gone. Moving further into his room, he shut the door and sat on the nearby chair. Might as well wake her up. If she wanted to rest so long, she should do it back at the Monastery, before anyone could draw any unsavory conclusions about his involvement with her. Though his left fingertips still ached, he compromised with himself, deciding playing one more song would still be bearable. Three of the four strings hummed as Julian played his first note, the cello bellowing much louder than he expected in the small, quiet room. He continued playing without hesitation: a bit of a chaotic jaunt that didn't have a name - he hadn't decided on one yet. The music filled the room and drifted down the hall as Elhaym slept, a song he hadn't played for anyone before. Perhaps in her drowsy, half-sleeping state, she'd consider it something pleasant to wake up to.