The Apartment (Invite only, Elizabeth)

[Doc]

Doc hung the painting on the wall. It was the first thing he put in the Tomkin apartment. He had been surprised when he got it. The painting was of a tree on a hillside. The entire painting was done in the same color. But there was depth to the painting, it had to do with the shading, and use of the brush strokes. It was impressive. But, more than that, it also made him start remembering things from his childhood. It was the tree that made the memory come to life.

A memory from his very early days in school, that then caused another memory to come forth, and then another. Normally Doc pushed memories to the the deep dark place, where they would be locked away without reflection. But these memories were different. These were not angry memories. Yes, frustration was in the first memory, but not the rest. This caused him reflect, that as a child, he was too prone to give up, rather than to face ridicule. Now as an adult he could see, he had been right when he was a child. He had a chance to make it right.

As he unpacked the the boxes, he set things up as he thought they should be, But Doc wasn’t the expert. So he installed track lighting. So that the lights could be moved as needed. It only took a few hours to set everything up. Now he had to make the invitation.

Picking up his cell phone, he dialed Lizzie’s number. Doc had actually rehearsed what he was going to say to her. But it went to her voicemail. He frowned, he was geared up to overcome any objections she might have. He was going to charm her into acceptance, if it killed him. But now .. voicemail. He had come this far, he could this. “It’s Charles. I want to invite you over to my new tomkin apartment. I am hoping you will help me christen it. Give me a call?” He hit the pound symbol.

In Doc’s mind, what he meant, in what he said, was meant in the truest definition of the word. To use it the first time, for what it was intended. However, what he failed to realize was how that phrase may come across to someone else.

[Elizabeth]

The last few evenings had been spent planning and preparing for something Elizabeth had hoped would work. There was no guarantee, but she was hopeful that her instincts were right. That if someone died in one of those other cities near Harper Rock, that they would be able to return. Still, a back up plan had to be put into play, and even then...perhaps another back up plan to the original back up plan.

Everything seemed to be going positively and in her favour regardless if it was easy to return or not, until Alexandrea had replied to Elizabeth and caused the woman a pause. How had she missed the word 'guide?' Elizabeth had taken a few minutes to glance at her own copy of the tome, and sure enough. Perhaps, in her delight at finding something so promising, Elizabeth had overlooked the word, but there it was. It seemed as if there were a hiccup in Elizabeth's plans and that would not do. It meant a delay in her plans, which meant Albina and a few others would remain trapped within the realms. She supposed another few evenings after centuries would matter little to Albina and those fallen to the old guild she had once belonged to centuries ago, but it still left Elizabeth less than pleased.

Albina, had perhaps been her truest and only friend while in the guild. Perhaps more than that. It may be safe to say that she had been Elizabeth's only non-familial friend before either of them had been killed and sent to the realms. It was not to say that Elizabeth's time in Twilight Borealis had not been enjoyable-it had been, but there were friends and then there were just acquaintances. People that you work with, to put it lightly. The German woman had been able to not only take Elizabeth's banter with a grain of salt, but return it three fold sometimes. She, more than the others...Elizabeth felt obligated to bring back, if she could. Perhaps not obligated, but had a small sense of longing. Elizabeth was hopeful and longed to see the woman again. And so, as Elizabeth poured over all the tomes she owned, the telepath had been oblivious to the world around her. The phone had rang quietly somewhere within Elizabeth's penthouse, but had been missed as Elizabeth reviewed her notes for the raise wraith ritual. Perhaps, she would have to resign herself to the idea returning Albina as a wraith, and as time went on, more tomes would be found and she could discover the secret to fleshing more than just the guides.

Elizabeth put her tomes away in her large wall safe, spun the lock and moved to collect her phone. The icon implying a message had been left for her did not go amiss, and was played after Elizabeth unlocked her phone and put in her four digit pass code. It played and Elizabeth frowned, tipping her head. The message came to an end, and she pressed the replay button. It was an odd request, given the woman knew Charles was not, in any form, religious. Certainly, Elizabeth was missing something, but if one thing was certain, whatever was brewing in that mind of Charles would be far from boring.

She hung up on her inbox and then, as asked, gave Charles a call. After a brief conversation and Elizabeth's acceptance of the invitation, an address had been given to her and Elizabeth moved towards the elevator. Her original plan had been to take the train to Tomkin, but she had decided in the end to just teleport herself outside the sunken Cathedral, now that the telepath was somewhat familiar with the area. With a quick glance around her as Elizabeth appeared, the woman looked around, then moved to the apartment complex she had seen a time or two before. It was when Elizabeth was in the elevator that she had the fleeting curiosity on if she should have brought a gift or not. When she had purchased her first penthouse in the city, someone had given her a 'housewarming' present. The thought was squelched as the elevator door opened to the floor she needed and Elizabeth stepped out and moved down the hallway to knock lightly on Charles' door.

Code: Select all

Wearing: https://s-media-cache-ak0.p i n i m g.com/736x/48/bc/00/48bc006ee77ac0db548545d084b03c5d--dress-v-neck-casual-womens-casual-dresses.jpg

[Doc]

Over the next hour Doc installed the painting light above the painting that Lizzie had sent him. He wanted it to the be the focal point that someone saw as they entered the apartment. The painting, of a tree on a hill may not be evocative to many but it was to him. When he looked at it, it brought back those memories, that he was now seeing in a different light. Being as old as he was, and thanks to Lizzie, he was seeing events in his past in a different light. A positive light.

His childhood had been anything and everything BUT positive. But now he had a single moment that was. And it was all thanks to Lizzie. Then she returned his call. She sounded like her normal enigmatic self. Polite, intrigued, and gracious. He explained he wanted to show her something.. And ask her something, if she would be willing to come to his new apartment. She agreed.

He was still in the midst of adjust the light and the painting, when he heard the knock. He brushed his hands off on his jeans. Since he had been installing lighting, he was dressed down, in comparison to his normal attire. He brushed his hair back as he moved to the door and opened it, to find Lizzie, looking lovely as usual in a navy blue dress.

Doc smiled at her, opening the door wide, she she could step in and see her painting. “Welcome Lizzie.. Thank you .. Thank you for coming.” After she entered, he shut the door and gestured to the painting. “It holds pride of place.” He paused and looked around empty room, and looked at her, “Alright the apartment is mostly empty.. But that is why I wanted you to come.” He was more animated than his normal self.

Doc moved to stand by the painting. “When I first started school.. They would give you a box of crayons. Eight colors. Big fat crayons. The teacher wanted you to express yourself with the crayons. She would take us outside to different parts the of the campus and tell us to draw what we saw.” He was looking at the painting as he told her the story.

“But the colors, were not right. There was no white. I needed white to be able to draw what I saw. The teacher would smile and tell me.. To draw the tree.. You can draw the tree. But that was what I was trying to do. Draw the ******* tree. Everyone else.. Was using the brown and green .. coloring away. But it was a maple tree I was trying to draw. The bark wasn't brown.. It was gray, and I had no white crayon. So I had to use the black without the white to mitigate. It was horrible.”

Pausing he was still looking at the painting. “I told myself that day. I would never draw another ******* tree again.” Doc looked at Lizzie, “And I haven’t.”

“Then the other night.. You saved my *** with Amalea. We hadn’t talked about the gift; but you made it sound like we had.” Doc stopped, and frowned. “I can get so focused on something.. Everything else, is put aside. Then because I pushed it aside.. As not as important in that moment.. I forget. I do not do it on purpose. And because I can be ******* oblivious.. I hurt people I do not intent to hurt. And, you knew I did this, and you saved my ***. You didn't have to. But you did. It made me realize I can't fix myself on my own.”

Doc took her by the hand, “You made me see that .. I need to improve. I need to be able to .. relax. To do something that isn’t work, politics, or anything else I can use to push things away.” He led her to the back room, where there were two easels set up. The track lighting set up in such a way that each easel would have the best lighting he could manage. By each easel were five basic colors, Cadmium Red, Mars Black, Titanium White, Yellow Ochre, Cerulean Blue. “I want you to teach me to paint a ******* tree Lizzie.”

[Elizabeth]

The painting had been gifted to Doc as a 'thank you' of sorts. He had casually mentioned the Tomkin location when Elizabeth had been conversing with Mordechai the other evening. And because of that, Elizabeth had not only discovered the werewolves (which were still a mystery), but had influenced her current inspiration and technique. She had not heard an opinion of it one way or another, so assumed that Doc had not liked it. Elizabeth had been uncertain in regards to it, not positive if it had been completely finished, but when she had thought to add a cabin, or other things one could find within the woods; such as animals, Elizabeth had a difficult time envisioning anything else in the painting other than what was already applied to the canvas. That implied to her it was done.

Art was subjective, and so when Elizabeth had not heard anything from Doc about it, she assumed he did not like it. Elizabeth did not take it personally; what one person liked, the next five did not. So when she entered the apartment, Elizabeth was surprised to see it hanging in the apartment; and not only hanging, but displayed as if it were something that could be found in a gallery. To her, that implied Doc enjoyed the painting.

There was an air of difference to Doc; from the way he dressed to the way he talked. Elizabeth had noticed it immediately. Her eyes moved off the painting to him, trying to absorb why there were differences. As if there were some tall-tell sign on the clothing he was wearing. There wasn't, but it intrigued Elizabeth. As Doc started talking about school, her eyes wandered back to the painting. Suddenly, Elizabeth was not certain he liked the painting as much as she originally thought. Who could blame him? The teacher expected everyone to use the same materials and the same colors to draw trees and anything else in the area and stifled any form of creativity. Elizabeth wasn't surprised he never drew another tree again; it was likely Charles had never drawn anything again unless forced for a grade. But, it had not been done for enjoyment.

Her eyes moved off the painting and to Doc when he mentioned the gift ordeal during Amalea's birthday party. It had been obvious to Elizabeth that Doc cared a great deal about the woman; given the way he all but barked at Elizabeth over a comment the night before, then proceeded to throw the woman a birthday party. It was still a great mystery to Elizabeth as to why Doc had exploded on her, but Elizabeth had taken the higher ground and moved past it for the sake of Amalea and her party. A time or two before, Doc had told Elizabeth that he was trying to change certain things about himself; things he didn't like and it seemed that in his words, he not only was admitting his 'short-commings' for lack of a better word, but hoping to rectify them. Or, at least improve them.

And then that last phrase from Doc, the one before he took her hand made Elizabeth think about herself. Not in the same respect, but in the sense of doing things on her own. Fixing things on her own. Elizabeth's current predicament with the desire to bring back some old friends. When Elizabeth had gifted the painting, she had honestly not expected this sort of reaction. Or his desire to paint...with her. It was, to her, symbolic in a sense. Doc was, in a way, asking for help, not just with the painting, but with things other than painting. This, and she were just that starting point, but he was willing to accept help from outside sources. “You want to...paint?” Elizabeth asked as her eyes landed on both easels, already knowing the answer. If Doc had an idea in his mind, he was going to go through with it. This was no exception to the rule. “Very well. I would love to teach thee.” Elizabeth glanced to the paints, then down at her dress. “I do not suppose one has a shirt that they would not mind parting with, should paint find its way upon it?” Elizabeth asked, though if the answer were no, it would not deter her. What was one dress out of the fifty or so she owned?