Lewis meets Richard

Jekyll1886: There was a brilliant flash of bluish-white light.
When it faded, a tall, slim man stood upon the Society's doorstep. He had dark
brown hair and wore clothing typical of the middle classes, save for an
embroidered, filigreed waistcoat of crimson hue which bordered on ostentatious.
It set off his moss-green eyes marvelously, though. Disoriented, he hesitated a
moment. Once he'd had a chance to take in his surroundings, he knocked upon the
door thrice.
Tairais:  Richard
had been sitting on the floor of the great hall sketching the grandiose
skeleton that hung overhead when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He
wasn't entirely sure if the glint of light he saw out of the corner of his eye
was due to his imagination, but the knocking was most assuredly not.
He rose and tucked his sketchbook under his arm, crossing to open the door with
somewhat of a flourish. He gave the man before him an assessing glance,
curiousity flickering in his one visible eye.
"Buonasera. Good e-evening. M-may I be of assistance?"
Jekyll1886:  "Buonasera,"
the newcomer returned, smiling at the unexpected Italian as if it were a
surprise rose in the midst of a field of turnips. "Have I reached the
Society for Arcane Sciences?"
Tairais:  Richard
grinned, a rare sight indeed when face with a stranger, even if it was only
seen in the crinkling corner of his eye. "Si, signore. Come posso
assistere questa sera? Anche, lei come si chiama?" He himself was quite
pleased to take a reprieve from speaking English; Though it was the most common
language in London, he found the words cumbersome at best compared to Italian,
Spanish, or even his native Lithuanian (which was by far more guttural, but at
least it was graceful in a sense).
Belatedly, he silently hoped the man knew more than basic greetings.
Jekyll1886:  "Mi
chiamo Lewis Weir," he replied pleasantly, producing one of his personal
cards for Richard's perusal. "Devo parlare con Helen Jekyll. È qui?"
His manner was easy, genial, polite, but there was something arresting in his
gaze.
Tairais:  Richard
took the card and gave it an appraising look. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded
"Credo di sì, sì. Dove esattamente? Non lo so. Siete i benvenuti a venire
sguardo, se ti va."
He stood aside to hold the door for Lewis, casting a wary, calculating glance
over his shoulder to London beyond. It was better to be safe than sorry, he
thought.
Jekyll1886:  "Grazie,
lo farò, signor..." he said as he entered the building but realized he
didn't know the man's name. "Come si chiama?"
Tairais:  "Dottore
Richard Prince. Non è un problema." He closed the door behind them both
and leaned against it for a moment, resisting the urge to rub his temples. His
headaches were getting worse, lately. That, plus losing time and the more
frequent trips into his memories had him worried.
He'd focus on that later. For now, there was a guest to attend to.
Jekyll1886:  "Stai
bene, dottore?" asked Lewis, concerned at the trace of anxiety from his
happenstance host. A less observant person would have taken it only for what it
partially was: genuine concern for another human being's welfare. But beneath
this, equally true, lay a concern for self, an assessment of potential threat,
an unceasing weighing of options to be acted upon as the need arose. In the
end, Weir looked a little too long, saw a little too much, stared a little too
deeply into the soul.
Tairais:   "Un
mal di testa. Nulla di cui preoccuparsi." To those who looked, all but his
deepest secrets were worn on his sleeve: In code, but nonetheless there to see.
The feeling of being known caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise once
again, and Richard found himself repressing both a frown and an admiring gaze.
Lewis continued to surprise him, and he wasn't sure if he was intrigued or
disconcerted. Likewise, he considered his options, reluctant to say anything to
interrupt the trance-like watching the pair of them were doing.
Jekyll1886:  After
some moments, Lewis raised an eyebrow slightly and leaned in.
"Funny," he remarked, breaking into English, lowering his voice as
the ghost of an Edinburgher accent crept in from the back. "A house full
of Hydes..." He smiled as he dropped to a whisper, "Yet you're the
man I want to watch."
Yes, Richard was reading him right: The admiration and intrigued interest were
mirrored back, measure for measure. But, oddly, Weir didn't seem at all
disconcerted--quite the contrary! Any pretense of fear had vanished. And,
Richard realized, it'd been just that: a pretense. The man had never truly been
afraid.
Tairais:  Something
dark and amused inside him reared its head in that moment, and he let his masks
fall to the floor. Putting both hands on his scarf, he tugged it down to grin,
snaggly teeth bared somewhere between feral, just the wrong side of kind, and
scars shining almost mockingly, a story untold. His eyes glimmered like pools
of nephrite, warm in color and frozen between that warmth and cold calculation.
He mirrored the man's change in language, dropping another mask in the form of
his stutter.
"Oh? And why, perchance, is that? I am hardly more interesting than any of
the Hyde's." He kept his time firmly in the realm of levity, leaning his
cane against the door. He crossed his arms behind his back, letting a hand
hover over the compartment where he kept his knife. Though Lewis truly looked
intrigued, he couldn't help but want to snarl or fight back.
It was entirely possible he'd forget their entire exchange in the morning
anyways.
Jekyll1886:  Lewis
seemed, if possible, even more intrigued at Richard's response, at the masks
falling one after the other, as if he had halfway expected it, hoped for
it. A sense of relief married with satisfaction and excitement, patently
obvious for those who knew how to look, while a cagey mind ticked on behind
those moss-green eyes. There was the distinct impression he might just drop
another mask himself.
And, indeed, as Weir spoke, an odd mental image--more of an instinctive
feeling, really--presented itself to Richard: A quiet meadow, a natural spring,
where prey and predator alike might come to slake their thirst, and leave
renewed and revivified.
Or the ground might open up into a cenote and swallow them whole. That was an
equal possibility.
"On the contrary," asserted Lewis, accent almost fully Scottish but
with odd pockets of disuse and strange inflections here and there, "you're
more relevant than the pack of them. You've managed what they have
no'." A lopsided grin that could've easily been mistaken for a snarl
turned his top lip under, showing the teeth--yet the smile did reach his eyes.
Tairais:  At
the images presented before him, the snarling presence within him retreated as
hastily as it arrived, leaving behind the carefully blank look of one who has
spent a lifetime cultivating facial expressions, only to find they're missing
one for the occasion. He wasn't sure what to make of Lewis' continued
admiration, and for that, he narrowed his eyes.
He tilted his head inquiringly, subconsciously mirroring Lewis' inflections as
he spoke.
"And what, pray tell, is that? And to that end, why does it intrigue you
so? You do not seem like a psychologist, you are far too.. respectful, or
tactful. Some other study related to the neurological or psyche, then, but
what?"
A feeling of impending danger warred with his curiosity; The sound of galloping
hooves pounded in time with the anticipating beat of his heart- tch-tlot,
tch-tlot, tch-tlot, tch-tlot.- and his eyes darted around the room.
So long as his mind remained in the present reality, no harm would come to
their new Lodger, he hoped.
He returned the smiling snarl, replacing his wariness with easily seen warmth.
Both sides of him- predator and prey- struggled for control,
the halls of his memories realigning to best resemble the hedge maze of his
youth, surrounding the meadow he now faced.
Jekyll1886:  A
short, breathy laugh escaped Lewis's lips as his gaze flicked skyward; when he
turned his attention back to Richard, it was with raised brows and a friendly
smile tinged with a hint of ruefulness.
"No, no psychologist, me, thank God." He shook his head, amused at
the very thought. "Just an old soul, I suppose. And a transcendental
metaphysicist," he added with a shrug. "But you...you're rather
remarkable, you know. You've done it without aid, without potion, unless I miss
my guess. No physical changes. Entirely on the level of the psyche, the
mind." He looked at Richard, seeming to take in the whole of him and
something yet beyond. A small crinkle of concern creased his features. "But
you're no' done yet, are you?" he realized. "No... No, you've still a
ways to go." The trace of pity in his voice was succeeded by a growing
glow of anticipation in his eyes.
Tairais:  Richard
chuckled, a more civilized smile perched on his lips even as the rest of his
body language stayed tense and poised to react.
Lewis' words and his own personality, fraying at the edges, left him unsettled.
There were blockades in his mind for a reason, even if he couldn't recall what
it was. The fact that that reasoning had started to reveal itself once again
did not bode well: He had a strange sense of deja-vu that accompanied his rare
flash of self-awareness. He had, in fact, been in a similar position many times
over.
He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage with his hands situated as they
were. "You would be correct; I had no potion or aid. The only thing to
happen to me was, well, me."
He cleared his throat before continuing. "My psyche is not half so
unified, I'm afraid. The man I used to be, the man I want to be, and the man I
truly am... they are not kind to each other. Perhaps that is for the
best."
He wasn't sure what to make of the man's anticipation: the terror of being
known and seen combined with anger and curiosity, leaving him with the feeling
of being stretched like taffy.
He tilted his head critically at the hint of pity in Lewis' voice, and he
tilted his head curiously.. "Why do you pity me, Signore Lewis?
You do not know me."
What do you want, good doctor?
All that I am, good doctor of mine.
The memory clawed at the corners of his mind with a vengeance that would be
felt for many more days, even if he remembered none of what was transpiring.
Jekyll1886:  "On
the contrary," he answered back, ignoring the distance implied by signore,
"I think I know you better than you know yourself, at this point. You said
it yourself: Your pysche is not unified. You've been split, but you've not yet
been patched back together. You're not whole. You havnae come to terms with
yourself--not all of yourself; that, I can tell. I pity you because the root of
the worst suffering we can ever know--the only true sin--is
self-deception." Having spoken his truth, he held his peace, never once
breaking the gaze he shared with Richard.
He'd used "we". We can know. He was speaking
from experience. Hehad suffered. He did know.
Tairais:  Richard
smiled, the gesture all at once feral, self-deprecating, amused, and bitter. He
was fully aware that the set of morals he so desperately clung to were not his,
but he kept that revelation deeply buried. He needed some form
of dignity, after all.
"My self-deception keeps me from acting upon the part of me that would see
the streets run red. Do not the needs of the many outweigh the few? I do not
believe coming to terms with all parts of myself would benefit anyone at
present, including me."
He had closed his eyes at some point, though he wasn't entirely sure when,
and upon this realization, snapped them open to prepare for Lillian's countera-
It wasn't Lillian.
For a moment, time seemed suspended on a thread as he quickly took in
the marks on Elias' face, his elevated breathing, the wound on his side- oh
gods, what had he done? The feeling of his heart plummeting into his chest
accompanied the sounds of his ragged breath hitching and the clatter of his
knife as he lost his grip. He stared and tried to speak, words failing him as
his voice croaked.
"E-.. Elias? I.. I.."--
The self-loathing in his smile flickered in the depths of his eyes, along
with a greater flicker of pain as the mental blockades H- His mentor had helped
assemble flickered into place, his awareness of the conversation trickling away.
He'd have time to finish the conversation, but he likely wouldn't remember it
for some time. He wasn't sure if the thought upset him or relieved him.
There was still a familiar piece missing in his mind, but he had long come to
terms with the fact only one person would ever hold that key, and that person
had explicitly told him the consequences, should he return to them again.
The people he cherished always drove him away.
He shook his head ever so slightly to clear the pictures from his mind, focusing
on the man before him. "You speak from experience."
It was almost a question.
Jekyll1886:  He
closed his eyes, a small smile laced with mild chagrin upon his lips. He'd
given himself away. He tried to decide whether he'd meant to or not. A
bit of both, he concluded. He hadn't set out to do it so soon--he'd only
just met this man--but there it was. Like called to like. And it was
human nature not to want to be alone. To be known and understood. And he hadn't
been, not since...
A memory cropped up. A man on his deathbed, old and dignified: the most honest,
steadfast soul he'd ever known. And he had to let him go. Weir'd tried to stave
off his death but failed; he brought up a solution--a desperate longshot--but
his suggestion was declined. The man had made his peace. Instead...a promise, a
vow, their hands clasped tight together as if by holding fast enough Lewis
could tether him here by will alone. Then, he was gone.
The slums of Calcutta. The teeming tide of humanity. Filth and blood and a
promise broken. Darkness and death, the knife in his hand. But to no avail. The
world could wink out a thousand times over, and still the corpse would get up
and walk. A cosmic joke, fate laughing at his fruitless efforts. A
brilliant path to futility.
A vow renewed. A truth apprehended. Sorrow and beauty and gratitude all in one.
Hope and passion and loneliness. But not fear. Not anymore.
Acceptance. And, eventually, an offer.
The path here. This room. The soul before him. An unexpected opportunity.
The truth? he wondered, the moment hanging between them.
Hell...why not?
"Aye." He said it softly, barely more than a breath, eyes locking
with Richard's. "I do."
And in that moment, the meadow mindscape changed. What need have animals of
hedge-mazes when they can run free across the field, scampering in the
sunlight, stalking in the shadow, just as they were meant to, the autumn breeze
stirring their blood in quickening warmth? Freedom, possibility--to feel alive and right! That was
what Richard was being proffered. It was a present, a promise, a prayer.
All he had to do was reach out to Lewis...and reach in, to himself.
Tairais:  Richard
struggled to gain a hold on the part of him that was furiously building walls
and forts to keep others out of his mind (or perhaps they were there to keep
him in his mind), eyes narrowing once more.
If the animals in the field were free and wild, his was one used to a cage,
fearful of others and their cruelty, content to hide behind itself. It was mild
to the kind and terrible to those who would prey upon the kind, and it was
confused.
The animal wanted to be free, but greater still was its desire to keep from
hurting the friends it made in its potential prey.
There was a significance in the moment of Lewis' admission, he could tell that
much. Still, he could not help but pull at the edges of significance, wanting
to see it unraveled and examined, thread by thread.
"What would you have me do, exactly? Why does this-" He waved a hand
at the distance between them, "Matter to you so?"
It was a gift, quiet curiosity and no small amount of discomfort. Most
everything in him was screaming to run away, yet there was a small part of him
that drove him forward.
Why not follow him? Why are you holding back? He offers you that which you
have always coveted, why won't you run for it? You deserve it, after all the
šūdas life has shoveled on you. You deserve to be strong.
Louder still: You deserve NOTHING
He was inclined to believe it.
Jekyll1886:  Lewis
smiled. He found the other's hard-won ambivalence quaintly endearing. The poor
soul was struggling with himself mightily, instinct and intellect and emotion
rippling through and ricocheting around inside him like shrapnel. Yet still
Richard managed civility, had the wherewithal to ask meaningful questions,
hadn't run away...
"I'd have you live," he answered, the light in his eyes
seeming somehow more intense. "Truly live. And live truly. I'd
see you whole. And happy. And those you care for safe around
you." His smile broadened. "'Tis a consummation devoutly to be
wished. As for why it should matter to me..." He looked away, thinking,
then shrugged. Meeting Richard's gaze, he laughed, "I'm a bit of a
narcissist, if I'm honest." He looked down briefly, then back up to him,
the levity gone.
"I see you suffering," he revealed, letting all masks fall
away. "As I once did.......when I had happened to
myself."
Tairais:  Richard
saw, even understood, to a point. Lewis' compassion to help him was still a
strange, foreign concept, his mind far more used to the concepts of selfishness
and hidden greed.
Lewis' words threw his mind into chaos. Louder and louder, the voices of his
subconscious warred against each other. He stifled a full body shudder at the
sheer intensity of their crescendo, upper lip bared in an snarl directed
inward.
There was so much ungodly noise, like the raucous cawing of a
murder of crows, a drumbeat played in franric, syncopated rhythm against his
fluctuating heartbeat, thunder crying against a dissonant organ, a churchbell
clanging the whole while.
It was unbearable. A low growl rumbled in his chest, perching in the back of
his throat. Pausing, he shook his head, though that didn't lessen his
overlapping thoughts in the slightest.
Let him in, let him in and he can help you! You can save Elias, spare him
from yourself if you- - Let him in and he will destroy you. Even if you
deserve destruction you don't deserve to be seen or accepted, not after all the
things you'vedone and enjoyed you- - Deserve a chance at happiness,
would it be so difficult? Just ask him to- LEAVE and barricade yourself
inside yourself, save yourself, save them-
"Būkite rami, už ypu meilės."
He paused in the momentary silence. Had he said-growled- that out loud? The raw
places in his throat suggested as such, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of
his nose and closing his eyes. (Well, eye.)
"What would you have me do, exactly?"
The cacophony began anew at his gritted question.
Jekyll1886: Lewis took the growls and unexpected foreign language
in stride. The latter sounded Slavic or Baltic, he thought, though he couldn't
be sure. The former...well, he'd made similar sounds himself from time to
time, and with Richard's inner turmoil, it was hardly surprising.
"I'd have you acknowledge and embrace every aspect of yourself. I'd have
you make your peace with all of them, so they would no longer control
you," he proposed. "Specifically, I'd have us talk. We'd explore
things--perhaps compare circumstances, thought processes, experiences, or the
like. I'd happily let you know what worked for me; you could try and see
if it works for you, if you're so inclined. I've a few...exercises in mind
which should prove useful to you as well. I'm really an open book, if you
can keep my secrets confidential. And, naturally, I'd do the same for you.
Just...consider it," he suggested. "I don't expect an answer this
very moment. Take some time to mull it over, if you need. I intend to stick
around for a good, long while, so...simply find me when you're ready. If I'm
not here at the Society, chances are I'll be at my flat."
Tairais:  Lewis's
easy acceptance both would both charm and rankle him later. For now, Richard
would admit to being worn and drained, having run through the gauntlet of his
emotions in front of a near-stranger.
The headache grew worse, and he pinched the bridge of his nose again, pushing
aside implications in action, words, and gesture.
"If and when I call on you, I will take your secrets to the grave, as I
have done with many others." Glancing up, he let a small, almost hopeful
smile flicker across his face. "Y-you have my gratitude, in the meantime.
I hope you will forgive me for being.. reluctant."
Jekyll1886:  "Think
nothing of it," he returned with sincere warmth. "I understand. Take
as long as you need."
He glanced upstairs.
"On another note," he said, shifting subjects, "I had better get
going myself. I'm going to need all the help I can get to make a good first
impression with Dr. Lanyon, and tardiness wouldn't aid my cause." A
wistful look gave way to a sardonic smile, and, finally, a chuckle. "The
irony of that man..." he said, half to himself, head shaking
briefly in chagrin. "Ah well. Take care, Richard," he said with a
graceful nod of respect.
Tairais:  Richard
returned the nod, shifting from foot to foot indecisively. He eventually smiled
softly, masks falling back into place with some great amount of comfort.
"Bonne nuit, Docteur. U-until our p-paths c-cross again."
With that, he turned on his heel, gracefully prowling towards the kitchen with
cat-like grace. Lost in thought, a sense of curious discomfit clung to his mind
like cobwebs to a drafty ceiling.
Heart and mind warred with each other once again, and he sighed wearily,
stepping into the familiar routine of tea-making to help sort his thoughts.
One thing was for certain: Doctor Lewis Weir would be an interesting note in
this chapter of his life.
== Obtained From ==
Lewis Weir Intro
Lewis RP contd
Category:Side Story
Category:Introduction Stories
Category:New and Old Faces