Post by Liessel on Mar 8, 2024 9:30:04 GMT -5
Flynn and Flynn just wasn't the same without Avery or Felix, but they were not the only two people who inhabited the building and it just so happened that they were not her reason for being there.
The midday sun cast powerful shadows across the side doorstep of the building while Liessel climbed the short set of stairs and let herself by the secondary entrance. Once inside she collapsed her parasol, and worked on ridding her fingers of the lace that covered them. Her hat was also removed, the pin easily slid free and then tucked neatly into the band around the crown of the hat to keep it safe.
"Mister Whitmoor?" She called as she began climbing the stairs. The ghosts of the Flynns were everywhere she looked. She could not help but to see them. The rooms they inhabited just carried their personalities so well. "Are you here? Its Liessel."
"In the parlor!" came his southern reply. He was quick to answer. There was a shuffle of feet as he came to meet her at the top of the stairs. Dressed only in a simple shirt and loose trousers. His feet bare against the floors. His hair, for once, was not bound in a ponytail or braid. It hung down loose around his shoulders. "What can I do for you, Miss Erphale?"
Liessel was wearing a dress of white with light blue lace insets that were set in along the front running from the collar of the garment down the front on either side of the front panel which was small delicate buttons made of beads that looked like pearls running the length of it. Her hair was tucked up at the back of her head, tightly braided and pinned perfectly to keep the braid in place.
Climbing the steps, Liessel had a bit of her skirt pulled up, freeing her feet from the worry of tripping herself as she made her way up. At the top, she easily let her skirt fall back into place. Eli was given a small smile, "I just came to check on you. The last times we spoke -- about Gerold -- I want to make sure you're doing okay with things. I do not think I did a very good job of offering you comfort that night that you had found me. I had much on my mind."
"Ah, well," His open expression turned a little sheepish. "I... I think the same, you know. I don't think I offered you much comfort that night, either. I think its probably something we'll both struggle with for a while yet. But I appreciate you checking on me."
"My pleasure, Eli," She told the young man, making a motion with her right hand toward the front room he'd come from. It was behind him, and she could barely make out the doorframe from where she stood at the top of the steps due to the hallway, but her smile remained, "Let's try to find some better comfort for ourselves, then. Did the Flynns leave you with some coffee? I can brew some up for you -- some tea for myself for while we talk?"
He gestured to the kitchen. "Come have a seat. You are my guest, I will make the tea," he said with a genuine smile.
"Thank you," The tilt of her head was gracious, and came before she was turning to head down the other end of the hallway toward the Flynns' galley kitchen. It had been months since the place had also housed a bookstore, and still the scent of old bound leather and glue seemed to haunt the nooks and corners as she passed by them.
But there was still a might as well be a library in the parlor room itself... Which is where Eli spent most of his spare time. Once upon a time, he took those books to his room. Now, he read out in the parlor so he wouldn't feel so alone with the twins gone. He gestured for her to have her choice of seats at the small two person table. He efficiently put on water to boil and pulled out the necessities to make tea. "Did you have something in mind? Finding some better comfort for ourselves?" he asked as he4 turned back to face her.
She took up the chair closest to the door of the room. It was the same seat she had sat to nibble on sweet biscuits after defeating the Alfar. As Liessel sat, she folded her hands against the table and watching as Eli went about his preparations, "I had thought to tell you that I spoke again with Gerold about some -- things. He is alright, Eli. He is working on making room for himself, for a life that he wants but feels he cannot have just yet."
He came over and sat in the chair opposite her. He studied her face intently. Listening-- and feeling-- what she was saying... "So he's not so... Defeated... anymore?" his voice was quiet.
"He is angry," Liessel shook her head slightly, leaning forward to reach for one of Eli's hands if he'd let her. Her skin was smooth, and soft, "And frustrated. Afraid. He is also greatly confused, but he is after something that could allow him to free himself from that confusion. When I spoke with him last I saw nothing at all of him feeling defeated. If anything, he was more driven than I have ever seen him outside of a job."
He allowed her to take his hand. He was having a hard time making eye contact... The guilt on his face was evident enough to betray how he felt about the whole thing. "He is-- always has been-- a great friend... He was a great friend to Oliver and his family. When I met him again as me, it... hurt... To see him crippled. In a wheelchair. And now its happening all over again."
"But he isn't," Liessel's fingers closed down over Eli's in a firm and yet extremely gentle grasp, "In that wheelchair yet, Mister Whitmoor. He still has life in him. He is still on his feet, and he is fighting to stay that way. I know it isn't easy to think about. My heart breaks to imagine him in that situation, but he isn't there yet. And we cannot allow ourselves to put him there before life does it for us."
He took a few deep breaths. In and out. In and out. "I just... I can't unsee how fragile he was, Miss Erphale... I do understand what you're saying. I don't disagree. But..." He chewed on his lip and looked away. There weren't quite tears in his eyes, but they were looking a little wet.
"I know. You see something in him that I was not party to. I didn't know him then, and I find it very very hard to believe that he could ever be fragile. I do not know that Gerold Schoen. I do fear the day that I will, though. It is hard to see someone you love be reduced like that. I know that, too. My father was a man who was strong and able. And now he looks like he could crumble under a strong wind -- so I know, Eli, believe I do. It is hard to see, to live with, but Gerold is doing everything he can to not let that happen again. And if it does, then we treat him no differently. He needs that from us."
Eli nodded. He pulled away as he heard the first tell-tale signs of water boiling before the whistle went off on the kettle. He sighed as he stood up and went to bring the tea tray back to their table. There was no coffee on it for him, two cups for tea. Though there was coffee in the kitchen's cabinets, he'd been experimenting with different types of tea to further adjust to the british way of life. "I don't know how to let that image go, Miss Erphale."
When Eli let go of her hand to rise and tend to the kettle, Liessel folded her hands back together and settled back against her chair while she watched him go about it. A quick flick of her fingers took care of the tears that had formed at the corners of her own eyes, and she found herself breathing out very slowly before answering Elija Whitmoor, "You know who he is, right now. Can you close your eyes and picture him, as he is now?"
Eli came back to sit down after pouring the water into each of the teacups. He returned it to the stove and sat down with her. He regarded her solemnly for a few seconds, then nodded. "I can try," he whispered in a soft voice.
"Sit back then," She urged gently, "And close your eyes. Try to see him as you last saw him. On his feet, and strong, with his pipe in his mouth sending those wafts of smoke up into the air. His hat on his head, his rifle by his side," Even as she was suggesting it to Eli, Liessel found the image forming within her own mind.
Her details went further. His smile, and the way his eyes picked up on it. The way the scruff on his chin shadowed his jaw, and the mustache that he hadn't yet changed from before Bournemouth. The wrinkles and fine lines that hugged the corners of his eyes when he smiled. The scent of him: tobacco and what was naturally his.
It left her hands trembling, so she folded them together a little more tightly where they rested on the table while she also drew in a breath to continue, "Make it real in your mind," She told Eli, "make him solid."
What came unbidden to his mind right then and there was Gerold as he'd been on their way to Harroway. Riding astride his horse, weapon tucked away, hat on his head. He didn't look too fragile right then, not in his mind, but that fragility lingered in the back of Eli's mind. Giving him a feeling of fragility that went unseen in his mind.
"Imagine that man," Her words continued even as she drew in another breath and slipped her hands from the table to place them on her lap where their shaking wouldn't be seen. Surely, it was in her voice, too, "Standing before you, and yelling, or talking or -- imagine him being Gerold, Mister Whitmoor. Don't let that fragility that haunts you take the image and distort it. That version of Gerold Schoen will not exist today. "
As she soke, he began to picture Gerold more clearly in his mind... In a way, he may have been perceiving what shye was seeing in her own mind. Or maybe that was just how he interpreted what she saw... A man, aging in years and spirit, but not snuffed from life. That candle still had much wick to burn before it died out. His breathing changed a little, becoming more relaxed as he conjured these images.
"There," Liessel said quietly, watching as Eli's breathing deepened, a hand snaking back up to take another quick swipe at her eyes, "Just like that. Let that image of him become a person. Let it live within your mind. This is Gerold Schoen. Feel that with everything within your heart. Leave no room for anything else."
He heard... and listened. Some might say that might've been a difficult task for the Littlest Flynn. But in that moment, even though it seemed such a daunting task, he was able to complete it. The tears were most assuredly there now, though they hadn't fallen past his lashes. "Is this part of what you do as a priestess?"
When she reached for her teacup, it had to be done with both hands.
"Something like this, specifically, no," She answered, giving herself room in the question to recover a little bit, "But putting others at ease, yes. Calming them, yes. That is absolutely what I did as a priestess."
"Did?"
"Did." That one word was given a good and solid nod before she took a sip of her tea and carefully set the cup back down on the table, "It was my job -- it was the job of all of the Sisters. It is a function that I no longer need to fulfill in the same way. I -- we -- the Sisters, that is, practiced things like this with The People who came to us and needed help. There are no more Sisters, and I am not returning to Harroway or that life that held me so captive -- so, did."
"Did," he agreed softly after she explained. "You were the last. Now there are no more. But does that mean you have given up your Guardians?" he asked curiously. He poured a little milk and honey into his tea and stirred it gently.
"No -- well, maybe yes but only in a manner of speaking." This slide away from Gerold was helping her to let go of the ache that had sprung into her heart. It gave room for her tears to dry, too, "In order to save them, and all of Harroway, I had to give the piece of myself that was connected to them up. It had to be returned to them, and so now I am not a Sister, though I will forever carry their teachings within me. Now, I am simply Liessel Erphale, daughter of Horran and Halleh Erphale."
"And Horran is here in London with you," he said with a small smile.
"Yes, my father came with us. My mother died a few years ago." Liessel answered, giving Eli a little nod. She reached for her tea, her hand far more steady than it had been a moment ago.
His eyes were on her hands as she reached for her tea. He, too, reached for his tea. He swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat starting to subside. He gave her the slightest of smiles when he lowered the cup back down to its place on the table. "I'm not sure where to go from here."
"Well," Liessel started, giving Eli a small encouraging smile, "We could talk about Gerold some more, or you could ask me more questions."
"I don't know what to ask, honestly," he said softly. "You know, if it had been an hour ago, my head would've been full of questions."
Her teacup was set down quietly as she regarded Eli from across the table, "What difference does that hour make? What happened between then and now to rob you of your questions?"
"Talk of Gerold," he said in a soft voice.
"Then, tell me about him. How did you and him meet -- and I mean you, not Mister Tyson."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, there's an interesting story... Hmm... Shortly after i arrived here to London with the Flynns, I attended a gathering with them... It was a Frontiersmen event, I think, honoring somebody being promoted. I think. They'd left me to my own devices. And I could feel something.... familiar. I didn't know what it was. At that point in time, Oliver's memories were broken and more often triggered than actually remembered... But something inside me recognized either Seth or Gerold. To this day, I'm not sure which. So I began to seek it out."
"So you did not know him for very long prior to my meeting him in Denver," Liessel stated, giving a small nod, "How did you find him at the event and did he recognize you right away as being -- uhm -- Second Born of Mister Tyson?"
"Heh, yeah, he recognized me... I look exactly like Oliver..." He paused to think for a minute, then slapped the table abruptly. "OH! I KNOW! it was Gerold's retirement party!"
Liessel started, the reaction just as sharp as the sound of Eli's hand unexpectedly dropping against the table so heavily. She was suddenly glad to have put her cup of tea down just moments before. "His retirement party? I thought he was still working for them. I know he's been trying to trace the corruption within the organization. He's been doing that from outside of the Frontiersmen?"
"Oh, no," he said softly. "There was a lolt of treachery involved in the Frontiersmen... He's been working solo with Seth and sometimes Tom to try and figure out how deep the corruption goes... As it stands, most of -- if not all-- the London agents are dead or disappeared in the coup."
"Have they come up with anything since that -- coup? With everything that's happened over the past several months I haven't thought to ask him, though I do know that he had been in Bournemouth with Seth for what his note said was a "situation" -- but that could have been the mess with the Alfar."
"All I really know is that he's still looking. They had a hand in everything that happened in Denver. Even Ethan got the downside to some of it. The Arbiter died during that whole Denver debaucle... And has yet to return."
"Maybe that's what he's gone after, then. Some trace of something elsewhere." Liessel breathed out heavily in a sigh, "The Arbiter is the being -- person -- that holds the reigns to Mister Seth's strictures, correct?"
He nodded. "And now Ethan's," he said softly. "The Arbiter is like... an avatar... I'm not sure if its meant to be a embodiment of a god or the God. But it is a helm of power so to speak. It doesn't choose randomly. And it does not have to die with the holder in order for it to be passed on. It can be revoked from the current holder by whoever or whatever controls it. But in this instance, the Arbiter, Abeba, died." He was quiet for a few seconds, then sighed. "Probably not long after I left her."
"Holder? -- Like, a -- a host?" Liessel was watching Eli as he spoke, but it was not an unkind watching. She was paying attention, she was listening.
He nodded once. "Yes. Like a host. I don't know what all it entails. I don't know if there's a presence that comes with it or anything... But I am aware that some people are naturally drawn to the current Arbiter once their presence is... fully encapsulated...?" He was guessing at terminology at this point and hoping he conveyed enough.
"Forgive me," Liessel felt herself frown a little bit, "but people are naturally drawn to it? Is that like an attraction, or is it like submission?"
He looked thoughtful about that. "I'd say attraction for humans... But for those with Strictures... Submission... Now, I think this attraction has something to do with the Oath you take. You know, the Oath that Gerold and the Flynns had to do say to keep us safe from Seth? That oath. I think."
She felt her frown deepen, "They -- took an oath for that? I wasn't aware. The only oath I had seen, in regard to Mister Seth, was the one that Aurelia took to keep Mister Seth at bay. What does taking the oath do to those who take it beyond safeguarding them against Seth, and attracting them to the Arbiter? Is it like -- servitude?"
"mmmm... I remember Gerold made Oliver take the Oath. I know the Flynns took it as a precaution. Seth's protectiveness of his handler is kind of built into the Strictures as I understand it... He doesn't like any kind of magic, I don't think. But he can't hurt those who take the Oath. unless they break it."
"The strictures bind Seth to, and from, doing much. If that is true, that he does not like magic, then I can understand why the Flynns took the oath. But, I had meant, for those that do take it, should the Arbiter snap their fingers and issue an order -- those who have taken the Oath, how would it affect them? I know you said it is an attraction, but how deep does that attraction go? Does it lead to blind adoration, or do the oath-takers retain their -- uhm -- awareness? Alertness -- to the world around them and their own desires?"
He shook his head. "No, no, no. Nothing like that. I only met Abeba as an Arbiter, but she never had any of that over me. I know the Oaths you take as a Frontiersmen are probably much more involved-- so the Arbiter might could do that to Gerold or Tom-- but not anybody else, i don't think."
"After all, the Frontiersmen were formed to serve and protect the Arbiter."
Might could do…
"Eli," She said very softly, her voice barely breaking into the air of the little kitchen. It was a good thing that the space was small, and that there wasn't much of it between her and Elija Whitmoor, "Would it be possible for you to get me into touch with Mister Jefferson? I would like to have his answer for that."
He nodded. "I can give you his address. He lives here in town. Ethan lives with him, though."
"Running into Mister McDowell is a risk I am willing to take," She said, giving Elija another nod, "For this. Getting that answer from Mister Jefferson is far more important right now for me."
He nodded. He stood up and walked away to the counter, picking up one of Felix's infamous writing pads and shortened down to a stub of a pencil. He scribbled down the address-- and a few landmarks along the way for directions. "Are you going to go now?" he asked softly.
Liessel sat quietly, finishing her tea, while Eli went about writing down the address and the directions. She'd have to get a carriage -- and spent those few moments of silence measuring out, mentally, what funds she'd brought with her, "A call first, perhaps, to make sure he will be there when I arrive. -- And, maybe, to give Mister McDowell some fair warning."
He sat back down into his seat with a small, sad smile. "Not much of a chance of missing him... Tom's a bit of a recluse these days. But a call won't hurt."
"A call first, then," Liessel gave Eli another little smile as he sat. It was a wane little thing, an expression she was trying on just for that moment, "Do you -- could you call him for me? I know not his number."
He shrugged. "I can call, but you can use the dragonfly pin, too."
There, again, Liessel gave Eli a small nod. "I am afraid that I might need you to walk me through that. I have not had need to practice with it, so I am quite unfamiliar with its practical workings." She'd spent the past handful of months never out of sight of someone who had one of their own. And if she was out of sight, that was because she was either at the Flynns', or haunting the Knightsbridge house.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll show you how to use it. That's no problem. It'd be useful to know anyhow if you ever got in trouble alone."
"Thank you, Mister Whitmoor," Across the table from him, Liessel lifted her right hand to brush her fingers across the mark on her forehead. As her hand settled back down against her lap, she took a small breath and said, "So, how is it done?"
"One moment," he said, getting up and walking back to his room to grab his own pin. He came back and set it on the table. "Now, the phone in question has to be wired into the british phone system... Each pin-- each person-- has their own code... I'm going to write them down for you, but you'll need to commit them to memory so you don't carry it around..." He began to scribble down the list of the codes. "Then you dial the code to the person you're looking for... Whatever phone is nearest to them will ring. It could be a public phone. It could be a private phone. There's never telling... Sometimes the person you're after won't hear it. Or they don't have access to it. Does that make sense? Its not a guarantee."
Left along in the kitchen for a moment, Liessel was still sitting where she had been when Eli went to get his own pin. Her's was worn on the inside of her dress' bodice, pinned to a facing that had been designed for this purpose.
As Eli sat back down, she leaned forward to see the numbers he was writing, "It does, thank you Mister Whitmoor."
He nodded. "So, you just need to have your pin on you. And they need to have their pin on them. And beyond that, its magic and luck."
"Just dial the number -- the code, and if Mister Jefferson is around a phone, and wearing his pin, he should answer?" In this case, it would either be him or Ethan, if Ethan was around.
"Yes. Like I said, Tom's become reclusive as of late... But he has a phone in his apartment. So pretty much a guarantee he'll answer."
"Alright," Liessel was pushing her chair back, readying to rise, but she waited to be sure that Eli was finished writing the codes down before she'd reach for the paper he was writing on.
When he was finished, he tore the paper off the pad and slid it across the table to her.
"Thank you, Eli," She said again, picking the paper up, "Do you mind if I use the phone here?" She didn't think he would, but it still was not her phone.
"Not at all," he told her with a smile.
Just before she turned to head down the hallway that would take her to the stairs, Liessel spared a moment to place her hand over her heart, "I will be right back." And then she was off, heading down that hallway and then the stairs. Within moments she was half-obscured by the alcove the phone had been tucked into with the receiver up, and the code dialed for Tomlin Jefferson.
Somewhere else in London: It took about 4 rings for someone to answer. There was no preamble. No hello. Just a monotone-- "Jefferson."
In the middle of those four rings, Liessel felt the need to even out her breathing so that by the time that Tom answered her voice was steady, "Mister Jefferson, it's Miss -- Wickham. I'm calling to ask if it is alright if I stop by today. I have some questions I'd like to ask you about the Frontiersmen."
"Miss Wickham," he said in his midwestern American accent. His voice warmed considerably. He was still as gravelly as ever-- since Denver. He'd never fully recovered his voice from that experience. "You are always welcome toi come to my place, Miss Wickham," he told her. He cleared his throat to get some of the gravel out of his throat. "You are aware that Ethan lives here, aren't you, Miss Wickham?"
"Thank you, and I am. But I cannot avoid this. It is something that I think best handled in person. You can warn him, if you wish, that I will be coming to visit. I do not mind." She had to make her voice a little louder to be sure that the phone would pick it up. Tomlin's voice, though, didn't sound much different than the last time she'd heard it, "I'll be leaving Flynn and Flynn shortly. It shouldn't be too long after that I'll be at your door."
"Fair enough. I look forward to seeing you again. Ethan's not here at the moment, but should be returning soon. I'll put some water on for tea."
"Thank you, Mister Jefferson, I'll see you soon." The receiver was softly hung back onto the hook. She stood there for a moment, gathering herself, before heading back upstairs to retrieve her hat, and to say her farewells to Eli.
"See you soon," he repeated before hanging up the phone. In the kitchen, Eli had her list of codes and the other piece of paper with Tom's address on it. "Here you are, Miss Erphale... Be safe. Let me know what answers you get?" he asked.
"Thank you, Eli," She had come in, and picked up her hat, and took the piece of paper from Eli. This put her within arm's reach. Liessel paused before backing away with the slips of paper in hand to place a light and friendly kiss to Eli's cheek. It was the best she could do with her hands full, "I will let you know as soon as I have something to share."
He nodded and saw her to the door, barefeet and all.
The midday sun cast powerful shadows across the side doorstep of the building while Liessel climbed the short set of stairs and let herself by the secondary entrance. Once inside she collapsed her parasol, and worked on ridding her fingers of the lace that covered them. Her hat was also removed, the pin easily slid free and then tucked neatly into the band around the crown of the hat to keep it safe.
"Mister Whitmoor?" She called as she began climbing the stairs. The ghosts of the Flynns were everywhere she looked. She could not help but to see them. The rooms they inhabited just carried their personalities so well. "Are you here? Its Liessel."
"In the parlor!" came his southern reply. He was quick to answer. There was a shuffle of feet as he came to meet her at the top of the stairs. Dressed only in a simple shirt and loose trousers. His feet bare against the floors. His hair, for once, was not bound in a ponytail or braid. It hung down loose around his shoulders. "What can I do for you, Miss Erphale?"
Liessel was wearing a dress of white with light blue lace insets that were set in along the front running from the collar of the garment down the front on either side of the front panel which was small delicate buttons made of beads that looked like pearls running the length of it. Her hair was tucked up at the back of her head, tightly braided and pinned perfectly to keep the braid in place.
Climbing the steps, Liessel had a bit of her skirt pulled up, freeing her feet from the worry of tripping herself as she made her way up. At the top, she easily let her skirt fall back into place. Eli was given a small smile, "I just came to check on you. The last times we spoke -- about Gerold -- I want to make sure you're doing okay with things. I do not think I did a very good job of offering you comfort that night that you had found me. I had much on my mind."
"Ah, well," His open expression turned a little sheepish. "I... I think the same, you know. I don't think I offered you much comfort that night, either. I think its probably something we'll both struggle with for a while yet. But I appreciate you checking on me."
"My pleasure, Eli," She told the young man, making a motion with her right hand toward the front room he'd come from. It was behind him, and she could barely make out the doorframe from where she stood at the top of the steps due to the hallway, but her smile remained, "Let's try to find some better comfort for ourselves, then. Did the Flynns leave you with some coffee? I can brew some up for you -- some tea for myself for while we talk?"
He gestured to the kitchen. "Come have a seat. You are my guest, I will make the tea," he said with a genuine smile.
"Thank you," The tilt of her head was gracious, and came before she was turning to head down the other end of the hallway toward the Flynns' galley kitchen. It had been months since the place had also housed a bookstore, and still the scent of old bound leather and glue seemed to haunt the nooks and corners as she passed by them.
But there was still a might as well be a library in the parlor room itself... Which is where Eli spent most of his spare time. Once upon a time, he took those books to his room. Now, he read out in the parlor so he wouldn't feel so alone with the twins gone. He gestured for her to have her choice of seats at the small two person table. He efficiently put on water to boil and pulled out the necessities to make tea. "Did you have something in mind? Finding some better comfort for ourselves?" he asked as he4 turned back to face her.
She took up the chair closest to the door of the room. It was the same seat she had sat to nibble on sweet biscuits after defeating the Alfar. As Liessel sat, she folded her hands against the table and watching as Eli went about his preparations, "I had thought to tell you that I spoke again with Gerold about some -- things. He is alright, Eli. He is working on making room for himself, for a life that he wants but feels he cannot have just yet."
He came over and sat in the chair opposite her. He studied her face intently. Listening-- and feeling-- what she was saying... "So he's not so... Defeated... anymore?" his voice was quiet.
"He is angry," Liessel shook her head slightly, leaning forward to reach for one of Eli's hands if he'd let her. Her skin was smooth, and soft, "And frustrated. Afraid. He is also greatly confused, but he is after something that could allow him to free himself from that confusion. When I spoke with him last I saw nothing at all of him feeling defeated. If anything, he was more driven than I have ever seen him outside of a job."
He allowed her to take his hand. He was having a hard time making eye contact... The guilt on his face was evident enough to betray how he felt about the whole thing. "He is-- always has been-- a great friend... He was a great friend to Oliver and his family. When I met him again as me, it... hurt... To see him crippled. In a wheelchair. And now its happening all over again."
"But he isn't," Liessel's fingers closed down over Eli's in a firm and yet extremely gentle grasp, "In that wheelchair yet, Mister Whitmoor. He still has life in him. He is still on his feet, and he is fighting to stay that way. I know it isn't easy to think about. My heart breaks to imagine him in that situation, but he isn't there yet. And we cannot allow ourselves to put him there before life does it for us."
He took a few deep breaths. In and out. In and out. "I just... I can't unsee how fragile he was, Miss Erphale... I do understand what you're saying. I don't disagree. But..." He chewed on his lip and looked away. There weren't quite tears in his eyes, but they were looking a little wet.
"I know. You see something in him that I was not party to. I didn't know him then, and I find it very very hard to believe that he could ever be fragile. I do not know that Gerold Schoen. I do fear the day that I will, though. It is hard to see someone you love be reduced like that. I know that, too. My father was a man who was strong and able. And now he looks like he could crumble under a strong wind -- so I know, Eli, believe I do. It is hard to see, to live with, but Gerold is doing everything he can to not let that happen again. And if it does, then we treat him no differently. He needs that from us."
Eli nodded. He pulled away as he heard the first tell-tale signs of water boiling before the whistle went off on the kettle. He sighed as he stood up and went to bring the tea tray back to their table. There was no coffee on it for him, two cups for tea. Though there was coffee in the kitchen's cabinets, he'd been experimenting with different types of tea to further adjust to the british way of life. "I don't know how to let that image go, Miss Erphale."
When Eli let go of her hand to rise and tend to the kettle, Liessel folded her hands back together and settled back against her chair while she watched him go about it. A quick flick of her fingers took care of the tears that had formed at the corners of her own eyes, and she found herself breathing out very slowly before answering Elija Whitmoor, "You know who he is, right now. Can you close your eyes and picture him, as he is now?"
Eli came back to sit down after pouring the water into each of the teacups. He returned it to the stove and sat down with her. He regarded her solemnly for a few seconds, then nodded. "I can try," he whispered in a soft voice.
"Sit back then," She urged gently, "And close your eyes. Try to see him as you last saw him. On his feet, and strong, with his pipe in his mouth sending those wafts of smoke up into the air. His hat on his head, his rifle by his side," Even as she was suggesting it to Eli, Liessel found the image forming within her own mind.
Her details went further. His smile, and the way his eyes picked up on it. The way the scruff on his chin shadowed his jaw, and the mustache that he hadn't yet changed from before Bournemouth. The wrinkles and fine lines that hugged the corners of his eyes when he smiled. The scent of him: tobacco and what was naturally his.
It left her hands trembling, so she folded them together a little more tightly where they rested on the table while she also drew in a breath to continue, "Make it real in your mind," She told Eli, "make him solid."
What came unbidden to his mind right then and there was Gerold as he'd been on their way to Harroway. Riding astride his horse, weapon tucked away, hat on his head. He didn't look too fragile right then, not in his mind, but that fragility lingered in the back of Eli's mind. Giving him a feeling of fragility that went unseen in his mind.
"Imagine that man," Her words continued even as she drew in another breath and slipped her hands from the table to place them on her lap where their shaking wouldn't be seen. Surely, it was in her voice, too, "Standing before you, and yelling, or talking or -- imagine him being Gerold, Mister Whitmoor. Don't let that fragility that haunts you take the image and distort it. That version of Gerold Schoen will not exist today. "
As she soke, he began to picture Gerold more clearly in his mind... In a way, he may have been perceiving what shye was seeing in her own mind. Or maybe that was just how he interpreted what she saw... A man, aging in years and spirit, but not snuffed from life. That candle still had much wick to burn before it died out. His breathing changed a little, becoming more relaxed as he conjured these images.
"There," Liessel said quietly, watching as Eli's breathing deepened, a hand snaking back up to take another quick swipe at her eyes, "Just like that. Let that image of him become a person. Let it live within your mind. This is Gerold Schoen. Feel that with everything within your heart. Leave no room for anything else."
He heard... and listened. Some might say that might've been a difficult task for the Littlest Flynn. But in that moment, even though it seemed such a daunting task, he was able to complete it. The tears were most assuredly there now, though they hadn't fallen past his lashes. "Is this part of what you do as a priestess?"
When she reached for her teacup, it had to be done with both hands.
"Something like this, specifically, no," She answered, giving herself room in the question to recover a little bit, "But putting others at ease, yes. Calming them, yes. That is absolutely what I did as a priestess."
"Did?"
"Did." That one word was given a good and solid nod before she took a sip of her tea and carefully set the cup back down on the table, "It was my job -- it was the job of all of the Sisters. It is a function that I no longer need to fulfill in the same way. I -- we -- the Sisters, that is, practiced things like this with The People who came to us and needed help. There are no more Sisters, and I am not returning to Harroway or that life that held me so captive -- so, did."
"Did," he agreed softly after she explained. "You were the last. Now there are no more. But does that mean you have given up your Guardians?" he asked curiously. He poured a little milk and honey into his tea and stirred it gently.
"No -- well, maybe yes but only in a manner of speaking." This slide away from Gerold was helping her to let go of the ache that had sprung into her heart. It gave room for her tears to dry, too, "In order to save them, and all of Harroway, I had to give the piece of myself that was connected to them up. It had to be returned to them, and so now I am not a Sister, though I will forever carry their teachings within me. Now, I am simply Liessel Erphale, daughter of Horran and Halleh Erphale."
"And Horran is here in London with you," he said with a small smile.
"Yes, my father came with us. My mother died a few years ago." Liessel answered, giving Eli a little nod. She reached for her tea, her hand far more steady than it had been a moment ago.
His eyes were on her hands as she reached for her tea. He, too, reached for his tea. He swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat starting to subside. He gave her the slightest of smiles when he lowered the cup back down to its place on the table. "I'm not sure where to go from here."
"Well," Liessel started, giving Eli a small encouraging smile, "We could talk about Gerold some more, or you could ask me more questions."
"I don't know what to ask, honestly," he said softly. "You know, if it had been an hour ago, my head would've been full of questions."
Her teacup was set down quietly as she regarded Eli from across the table, "What difference does that hour make? What happened between then and now to rob you of your questions?"
"Talk of Gerold," he said in a soft voice.
"Then, tell me about him. How did you and him meet -- and I mean you, not Mister Tyson."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, there's an interesting story... Hmm... Shortly after i arrived here to London with the Flynns, I attended a gathering with them... It was a Frontiersmen event, I think, honoring somebody being promoted. I think. They'd left me to my own devices. And I could feel something.... familiar. I didn't know what it was. At that point in time, Oliver's memories were broken and more often triggered than actually remembered... But something inside me recognized either Seth or Gerold. To this day, I'm not sure which. So I began to seek it out."
"So you did not know him for very long prior to my meeting him in Denver," Liessel stated, giving a small nod, "How did you find him at the event and did he recognize you right away as being -- uhm -- Second Born of Mister Tyson?"
"Heh, yeah, he recognized me... I look exactly like Oliver..." He paused to think for a minute, then slapped the table abruptly. "OH! I KNOW! it was Gerold's retirement party!"
Liessel started, the reaction just as sharp as the sound of Eli's hand unexpectedly dropping against the table so heavily. She was suddenly glad to have put her cup of tea down just moments before. "His retirement party? I thought he was still working for them. I know he's been trying to trace the corruption within the organization. He's been doing that from outside of the Frontiersmen?"
"Oh, no," he said softly. "There was a lolt of treachery involved in the Frontiersmen... He's been working solo with Seth and sometimes Tom to try and figure out how deep the corruption goes... As it stands, most of -- if not all-- the London agents are dead or disappeared in the coup."
"Have they come up with anything since that -- coup? With everything that's happened over the past several months I haven't thought to ask him, though I do know that he had been in Bournemouth with Seth for what his note said was a "situation" -- but that could have been the mess with the Alfar."
"All I really know is that he's still looking. They had a hand in everything that happened in Denver. Even Ethan got the downside to some of it. The Arbiter died during that whole Denver debaucle... And has yet to return."
"Maybe that's what he's gone after, then. Some trace of something elsewhere." Liessel breathed out heavily in a sigh, "The Arbiter is the being -- person -- that holds the reigns to Mister Seth's strictures, correct?"
He nodded. "And now Ethan's," he said softly. "The Arbiter is like... an avatar... I'm not sure if its meant to be a embodiment of a god or the God. But it is a helm of power so to speak. It doesn't choose randomly. And it does not have to die with the holder in order for it to be passed on. It can be revoked from the current holder by whoever or whatever controls it. But in this instance, the Arbiter, Abeba, died." He was quiet for a few seconds, then sighed. "Probably not long after I left her."
"Holder? -- Like, a -- a host?" Liessel was watching Eli as he spoke, but it was not an unkind watching. She was paying attention, she was listening.
He nodded once. "Yes. Like a host. I don't know what all it entails. I don't know if there's a presence that comes with it or anything... But I am aware that some people are naturally drawn to the current Arbiter once their presence is... fully encapsulated...?" He was guessing at terminology at this point and hoping he conveyed enough.
"Forgive me," Liessel felt herself frown a little bit, "but people are naturally drawn to it? Is that like an attraction, or is it like submission?"
He looked thoughtful about that. "I'd say attraction for humans... But for those with Strictures... Submission... Now, I think this attraction has something to do with the Oath you take. You know, the Oath that Gerold and the Flynns had to do say to keep us safe from Seth? That oath. I think."
She felt her frown deepen, "They -- took an oath for that? I wasn't aware. The only oath I had seen, in regard to Mister Seth, was the one that Aurelia took to keep Mister Seth at bay. What does taking the oath do to those who take it beyond safeguarding them against Seth, and attracting them to the Arbiter? Is it like -- servitude?"
"mmmm... I remember Gerold made Oliver take the Oath. I know the Flynns took it as a precaution. Seth's protectiveness of his handler is kind of built into the Strictures as I understand it... He doesn't like any kind of magic, I don't think. But he can't hurt those who take the Oath. unless they break it."
"The strictures bind Seth to, and from, doing much. If that is true, that he does not like magic, then I can understand why the Flynns took the oath. But, I had meant, for those that do take it, should the Arbiter snap their fingers and issue an order -- those who have taken the Oath, how would it affect them? I know you said it is an attraction, but how deep does that attraction go? Does it lead to blind adoration, or do the oath-takers retain their -- uhm -- awareness? Alertness -- to the world around them and their own desires?"
He shook his head. "No, no, no. Nothing like that. I only met Abeba as an Arbiter, but she never had any of that over me. I know the Oaths you take as a Frontiersmen are probably much more involved-- so the Arbiter might could do that to Gerold or Tom-- but not anybody else, i don't think."
"After all, the Frontiersmen were formed to serve and protect the Arbiter."
Might could do…
"Eli," She said very softly, her voice barely breaking into the air of the little kitchen. It was a good thing that the space was small, and that there wasn't much of it between her and Elija Whitmoor, "Would it be possible for you to get me into touch with Mister Jefferson? I would like to have his answer for that."
He nodded. "I can give you his address. He lives here in town. Ethan lives with him, though."
"Running into Mister McDowell is a risk I am willing to take," She said, giving Elija another nod, "For this. Getting that answer from Mister Jefferson is far more important right now for me."
He nodded. He stood up and walked away to the counter, picking up one of Felix's infamous writing pads and shortened down to a stub of a pencil. He scribbled down the address-- and a few landmarks along the way for directions. "Are you going to go now?" he asked softly.
Liessel sat quietly, finishing her tea, while Eli went about writing down the address and the directions. She'd have to get a carriage -- and spent those few moments of silence measuring out, mentally, what funds she'd brought with her, "A call first, perhaps, to make sure he will be there when I arrive. -- And, maybe, to give Mister McDowell some fair warning."
He sat back down into his seat with a small, sad smile. "Not much of a chance of missing him... Tom's a bit of a recluse these days. But a call won't hurt."
"A call first, then," Liessel gave Eli another little smile as he sat. It was a wane little thing, an expression she was trying on just for that moment, "Do you -- could you call him for me? I know not his number."
He shrugged. "I can call, but you can use the dragonfly pin, too."
There, again, Liessel gave Eli a small nod. "I am afraid that I might need you to walk me through that. I have not had need to practice with it, so I am quite unfamiliar with its practical workings." She'd spent the past handful of months never out of sight of someone who had one of their own. And if she was out of sight, that was because she was either at the Flynns', or haunting the Knightsbridge house.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll show you how to use it. That's no problem. It'd be useful to know anyhow if you ever got in trouble alone."
"Thank you, Mister Whitmoor," Across the table from him, Liessel lifted her right hand to brush her fingers across the mark on her forehead. As her hand settled back down against her lap, she took a small breath and said, "So, how is it done?"
"One moment," he said, getting up and walking back to his room to grab his own pin. He came back and set it on the table. "Now, the phone in question has to be wired into the british phone system... Each pin-- each person-- has their own code... I'm going to write them down for you, but you'll need to commit them to memory so you don't carry it around..." He began to scribble down the list of the codes. "Then you dial the code to the person you're looking for... Whatever phone is nearest to them will ring. It could be a public phone. It could be a private phone. There's never telling... Sometimes the person you're after won't hear it. Or they don't have access to it. Does that make sense? Its not a guarantee."
Left along in the kitchen for a moment, Liessel was still sitting where she had been when Eli went to get his own pin. Her's was worn on the inside of her dress' bodice, pinned to a facing that had been designed for this purpose.
As Eli sat back down, she leaned forward to see the numbers he was writing, "It does, thank you Mister Whitmoor."
He nodded. "So, you just need to have your pin on you. And they need to have their pin on them. And beyond that, its magic and luck."
"Just dial the number -- the code, and if Mister Jefferson is around a phone, and wearing his pin, he should answer?" In this case, it would either be him or Ethan, if Ethan was around.
"Yes. Like I said, Tom's become reclusive as of late... But he has a phone in his apartment. So pretty much a guarantee he'll answer."
"Alright," Liessel was pushing her chair back, readying to rise, but she waited to be sure that Eli was finished writing the codes down before she'd reach for the paper he was writing on.
When he was finished, he tore the paper off the pad and slid it across the table to her.
"Thank you, Eli," She said again, picking the paper up, "Do you mind if I use the phone here?" She didn't think he would, but it still was not her phone.
"Not at all," he told her with a smile.
Just before she turned to head down the hallway that would take her to the stairs, Liessel spared a moment to place her hand over her heart, "I will be right back." And then she was off, heading down that hallway and then the stairs. Within moments she was half-obscured by the alcove the phone had been tucked into with the receiver up, and the code dialed for Tomlin Jefferson.
Somewhere else in London: It took about 4 rings for someone to answer. There was no preamble. No hello. Just a monotone-- "Jefferson."
In the middle of those four rings, Liessel felt the need to even out her breathing so that by the time that Tom answered her voice was steady, "Mister Jefferson, it's Miss -- Wickham. I'm calling to ask if it is alright if I stop by today. I have some questions I'd like to ask you about the Frontiersmen."
"Miss Wickham," he said in his midwestern American accent. His voice warmed considerably. He was still as gravelly as ever-- since Denver. He'd never fully recovered his voice from that experience. "You are always welcome toi come to my place, Miss Wickham," he told her. He cleared his throat to get some of the gravel out of his throat. "You are aware that Ethan lives here, aren't you, Miss Wickham?"
"Thank you, and I am. But I cannot avoid this. It is something that I think best handled in person. You can warn him, if you wish, that I will be coming to visit. I do not mind." She had to make her voice a little louder to be sure that the phone would pick it up. Tomlin's voice, though, didn't sound much different than the last time she'd heard it, "I'll be leaving Flynn and Flynn shortly. It shouldn't be too long after that I'll be at your door."
"Fair enough. I look forward to seeing you again. Ethan's not here at the moment, but should be returning soon. I'll put some water on for tea."
"Thank you, Mister Jefferson, I'll see you soon." The receiver was softly hung back onto the hook. She stood there for a moment, gathering herself, before heading back upstairs to retrieve her hat, and to say her farewells to Eli.
"See you soon," he repeated before hanging up the phone. In the kitchen, Eli had her list of codes and the other piece of paper with Tom's address on it. "Here you are, Miss Erphale... Be safe. Let me know what answers you get?" he asked.
"Thank you, Eli," She had come in, and picked up her hat, and took the piece of paper from Eli. This put her within arm's reach. Liessel paused before backing away with the slips of paper in hand to place a light and friendly kiss to Eli's cheek. It was the best she could do with her hands full, "I will let you know as soon as I have something to share."
He nodded and saw her to the door, barefeet and all.