A moondrop bursts

[Lion]

Life was not something that provided the answers to everything, nor would they be easily given.  She was young, and precariously emerging into a fragile scene onto this stage the gods and their kind called life.  Lucan's mind clicked in thought and had learned so much about this young specimen of humanity in the short time they'd spent in his office just talking.  He could only imagine just what he could learn about her through her paintings.  Art was the medium by which mortals expressed themselves, each favoring a branch of art solely their own, to mold what they saw, felt, thought, into a vision that they understood.

The alchemist leaned on the table and could only grin in sheer amusement from her expression.  He laughed as well, but gave her a nod of ascent and smiled ear to ear.  "Yes, I want to see your paintings!  I hear Fallial has some of the best painters in the world.  For once, I'd like to see for myself.  Sure there are starving artists down on the streets of Lindolen, and their work is wonderful to be sure.  But I'd like nothing more than to see a professional at work."  He chuckled and followed her to the door.

"You lead the way, Lady Hearth.  I'll follow behind.  Don't you worry about my old bones," he said.  Lucan was a little hesitant at first to leave the quarters that he vacated in the first place. He looked at her by the door first before he moved back to one of the desks and removed a key from the drawer, the key to his quarters that he kept on a thread and carried it to the door as he passed through it.  When it was closed behind her, he locked the door and placed the thread around his neck.

He gestured toward the tower steps and for her to take the lead.  "After you, milady."

[Anonymous]

As he gestured towards the stairs, Hearth nodded once, clasping her hands together and fiddling with her fingers in anxiousness. "O-Okay," she stammered, and lead him up the spiral staircase, her steps slow and cautious. She had once almost slipped down this staircase – she had been in a rush, eager to back to her paintings, to work on a small portrait she had naively considered to be a masterpiece – but she had taken a faulty step and nearly fell, clasping onto the handrail for dear life. That was when she had been younger, and had been able to take risks.

It was a ridiculously tall staircase, but the distance between her room and the rest of the House only made Hearth feel more at ease. Such a love of seclusion was unhealthy, her father thought, but Hearth considered her room to be a space of therapy, at best. She looked back to Lucan, her eyes almost apologetic. "I-I'm s-s-sorry, i-it's a t-terribly l-long c-c-climb," she apologized, biting her lip. And all of this because he wanted to see her paintings! She would've liked to assure him that she wasn't a professional, but such a statement might annoy him...

Through perseverance, the two were at the door of Hearth's room. A very short hallway separated the door of her room from the staircase, leaving little left in the way of her domain. Tentatively, she opened the door to her room, and took a sigh of relief as she did so – her room was neat and orderly, as always, but she had always feared that the day she'd have to bring someone into her room would be the day she forget to clean.

Her room was elegant without trying to be – Hearth would've dubbed it modest at best, compared to the living quarters of her other siblings, especially the flamboyant Gemini. Dark mahogany furniture adorned her quarters, offset by light plum purple curtains and bed dressings, reflecting her personality, but also that of House Stone's. Her painting accessories could be seen pushed to the right side of her room – such as  her easel, with a fresh paintbrush and set of paints set by it, in case she came upon a burst of inspiration, and her drawer full of backup paints were all kept in the corner.

However, her paintings were nowhere to be seen, not stored anywhere they could be casually looked at anyway. Hearth made her way to the closet, which was designed to look as if it was simply a part of the wall. However, her fingers curled around the closet's handle, and slid it open. The closet was huge, taking up the whole south side of the wall. However, once it was opened, one could see it was not a closet, but a hidden room – and it it was her paintings. Some were on easels, some casual portraits she had done framed upon the walls in the closet – it was her hidden artist's domain.

"H-Here's... e-everything I-I've ever d-done," Hearth introduced, smiling a little. She stepped in her hidden sanctuary, nodding at Lucan, her way of letting him know that he could come in. After glancing around the walls, it was quick to see that Hearth was fond of portraits and landscapes – little else could be found displayed here. It was strange, how someone so shy could capture the immediate expressions of people in her paintings.

"B-But, th-this isn't the b-b-best of it! I-If y-you'll f-f-follow m-me..."

She was walking deeper into the sanctuary, and her smile grew by a centimeter's worth. At the end of the room, there was a painting, nearly as wide as the room itself... It was Lindolen, of the square, the center, of the city – of the view outside of her window. The buildings were detailed, painstakingly so, it was almost if she had managed to capture the architecture of her province itself. As if she had taken the soul of Lindolen and put it onto the paper. However, despite how large the easel may have been, the painting was only one fourth of the way day.

"I-It's n-n-not finished y-yet," she explained, "B-But, i-if I do f-finish it s-someday... I th-think it'll b-b-be the b-b-best work I've e-ever d-done." She was beaming, hands still clasped to her chest, looking up to read the expression on Lucan's face."

[Lion]

"It's no problem," Lucan nodded to her and kept up the stairs.  It was indeed a long walk and he was tall enough to make the trip without tiring too easy.  He would have been ashamed to admit to himself though that he was starting to get winded by the time they finally did reach the door to her room.  He was just an alchemist after all, not a soldier.  Lucan waited for her to show the way through, patient as he ever was and waited at the door when it opened.

He stood at the precipice, his hands clasped behind his back as he viewed the spacious elegance that was her room.  It was certainly fancier than any room he ever saw for a fourteen year old, and for a moment he almost forgot that she was the daughter of the High Lord.  Compared to his own quarters, hers far outmatched his, for his own were simple with an armoire in one corner filled sparsely, a cot in the other and an oak dresser and desk by the window.  He kept it bare for there had never been much to bring with him when he traveled.  But seeing this, well, it was safe to say that Lucan felt gradually embarrassed.  Yet it was a feeling he quickly overcame.

He was a little surprised to find there was not a single painting to be found in the room itself, for there certainly to have been plenty of room for it, without a doubt.  He fixed the round-rimmed spectacles on  his face when she walked over to the closet instead and revealed the secret location of the work he'd asked to see.  At this point, Lucan did walk in, carefully and straight to the closet.  Standing several feet from it, he took his time to take it all in.  There really were no words to describe the kind of awe that struck him.

There was always something beautiful about the mind of an artist.  They saw things in a different light than those who saw uselessness in artistic habits, the differences of expression.  No single artist was the same as another, and there were great similarities, it took a keen eye to find the little nuances between them.  Lucan took off his glasses at the sight of her paintings and leaned in closer to inspect them.

"Do you show these to many people?" he breathed, placing one of the ear clasps by his mouth in thought.  "These are so well-executed, Hearth...  These are beautiful!  You're very talented for your age.  Did you receive lessons or did you learn on your own?  I don't even know what more I can say...  How did you get the detail to be so acute?"  Lucan went on to inspect the painting of Lindolen and nodded at the work that was already there.  "I think you have a very good future in painting, my dear," he said, finally looking at her.  He put a hand on her shoulder and put his spectacles back on with his other hand.  "I've only been here a few months and already, I can say, I can't believe I am treating one of the best painters in all of Fallial.  Does your father know you paint this well?"

[Anonymous]

The youngest member of House Stone couldn't help but smile at Lucan's awestruck expression. It wasn't very often that Hearth smiled so widely, but then again, it wasn't very often that she was able to show her artwork to other people. Her brothers had seen her work, of course, and had always supported her, but they were the only souls she felt comfortable showing her work too. Seeing Lucan enjoy her work so much gave her a much needed confidence booster – did he really mean all of those nice things?

"Th-The b-b-b... b-best?" she echoed, her stammer acting up as her cheeks flared red. "M-M-Me? O-Oh no, I'm p-p-positive there are b-b-better!" She shook her head vehemently, but there was a pleasant grin on her face as she said it.  Granted, she really was sure there were better out there. Fallial was brimming with talent, and she was just one little girl who secluded herself in this high tower. While it pleased her to hear that, it pleased her even more to hear that she would have a future in painting. Oh, that was her dream! She hadn't realized it before, but if she could paint forever, maybe, then she would be always be content.

"I-I've n-n-no formal t-t-training," Hearth clarified, still blushing. She put her hands to her face, as if covering up the redness of her cheeks would cause it to fade away. "I j-j-j-just p-paint what I s-see, is a-all. I g-g-guess... I j-just sp-spend a lot of t-t-t-time l-looking at th-things..." That was probably the lamest way to describe her art process ever, but it was true. She had always been a quiet, reflective person, and spent a lot of time studying things quietly – whether it be a building, or a person's face, or a patch of flowers on the side of a cobblestoned road. While her father appreciated art, Hearth appreciated life – everything all around her. She would translate that love onto the canvas, and thus, her paintings were born.

Does your father know you paint this well?

Her smile faded, albeit slowly.

The High Lord had been in her studio, once. He had, in his flamboyant way, gushed about her prowess, and wondered for how long she had kept her talent a secret. He had waltzed through her storage closet with gusto, stopping to gaze at the intricate detail in an almost trance-like stance – it was how he was when he was appreciating art. He once stood staring silently at a portrait for ten minutes, studying the strokes she used, trying to find a meaning beyond the brushstrokes.

It would've been, perhaps, one of the best moments of Hearth's life. However, the moment was ruined when he finally turned to her, his purple eyes wide in excitement, and he suggested quite innocently, We should put this talent to good use!

"H-He k-k-knows," Hearth finally acknowledged while twiddling her fingers. "H-He... i-i-inspired me to p-p-paint th-this p-p-piece, a-actually." 'Inspired' was a word Hearth teetered on, as if she was unsure if that was the right term for it.

She was referring to the unfinished work, and she gestured to it with a nod of her head in its direction – the view of Fallial from outside her window. That long, unfinished canvas... One day, it would be complete, but it was not her painting, no. Even though she was sure it would be her magnum opus, she would not even have the satisfaction of calling it her own.

"Th-This p-p-painting i-is f-for m-my..." She lingered on the word. "...S-S-Suitor, wh-whoever he m-may be." Finally, she had been able to spit it out. "I-It w-w-will act as an e-e-engagement p-p-present of s-sorts... S-So, i-it m-m-must be e-e-e-exceptional." And since he had suggested it, he no longer came to her studio. Perhaps he was just busy, as he was sure he would be, as High Lord... But perhaps that was why she put so much more effort into this work.

Every brushstroke was executed knowing that this painting would have to be given away in the name of a marriage she may not believe in, but it was because of that – because this canvas must illustrate not only her skills as an artist, but it must speak for her as well. It must be able to tell the world who Hearth Stone was, because Hearth would not be able to put it into words.

She shook her head, and smiled a little, searching for this cloud's silver lining. "Wh-whoever h-he t-t-turns o-out to b-be... H-He'll b-be l-lucky to h-have it." That was one thing she'd be sure to make sure of. He'd be lucky to call her masterpiece his own. But she wasn't so sure that he'd be lucky to be married to her.

[Lion]

"I don't have much experience in painting, young lady," Lucan explained lightheartedly.  "I'm an alchemist.  Whatever creative energy I have goes into creating the perfect potion to help and to heal.  I know only the feelings I perceive from what I look at.  There is just a great deal of care and meticulation done with each brush stroke that gives it an air that I've never witnessed before.  And because you're not trained, to me, that makes your skill better than many who struggled under tutelage."

He paused and returned his eyes to the three-quarters blank canvas of Lindolen.  It was such a beautiful city to look at, and what had already been done made him want to anticipate the rest of the work when it was finished.  He was grinning as he continued his scrutiny, peering at the strokes of her work.  It was fascinating to think that something so well-crafted has been executed by the hands of someone so young.  Surely she was a prodigy in her own right, Lucan could see that immediately and where others would attempt to dissect the piece, stroke by stroke, trying to find the intention behind them when there's no need for such a thing in the first place.  Lucan merely accepted it for what it was.

His smile however gradually and he turned to her with concerned eyes, the greenish hue of his eyes reflexive and reflective.  It was sad to hear her speak of it like that and though it took a while for her to get all the words out, Lucan merely nodded at her meaning.

"It is beyond exceptional, even as much as you've put into it," Lucan said, returning that light grin to his face.  He stepped closer to the work and tilted his head as if he had gotten all the detail out of it just yet.  "And he'll be more than lucky to receive something of such skill from someone so young.  I believe you would do yourself a disservice to even let yourself think of the notion that he might only like this painting but...not yourself," he said carefully, his tone deepened and his grin only twisted a little, crooked in one corner as he glanced back at her, then to the painting again.   "I believe you have more than a painting here, dear.  Think of it more as a...test, perhaps.  If the young man, whoever he may be, can understand this painting, then he can understand you."  Lucan went down on one knee in front of the painting, his elbow leaning on his upright leg.

"Come dear."  He motioned for her to come closer to her work.  "Look harder, Hearth.  All this needs to bring it to life...is a touch of magic."  He grinned at her and took his right index finger and pointed it to the canvas of her painting of the Lindolen square.  Gently he brought it to the surface in the barest of caresses and the canvas suddenly began to ripple like the surface of water.  As the last of the ripples touched the edges of the canvas, the figures in the painted portion of the work began to move, literally.  The trees that were visible swayed slightly and one could even see the wind move through the buildings.  "If you listen carefully, you can hear the noise of conversation from those in the painting," Lucan explained, still grinning.  "When you're painting is finished, no matter where you are, you will always have Lindolen with you.  All you have to do is touch the surface of it.  Now what do you think of that?"

[Anonymous]

"If the young man, whoever he may be, can understand this painting, then he can understand you."

Hearth pondered his sentiment quietly, looking at her painting with new eyes. She had never thought of that before – had never bothered to look at this painting other than something she did out of duty. And duty to whom, she wondered? Did she painting Lindolen's square out of duty to her father, who looked at her talent had declared that the best way to use it would be to paint something for her suitor? Or did she take the brush in her delicate, steady hands (hands that could only be steady when doing serious work like this), out of duty for her province, for Fallial?

She wasn't even sure if she knew herself. Would the person who would eventually own this portrait understood?

It was a fairy tale's wish, but she was fourteen, and she could still dream.

As Lucan bent down on one knee, Hearth motioned closer to him, blinking back curious blue eyes at his notion. Magic, he said – all it needed was a bit of magic. Like an artist, she began to wonder what he meant – were her brushstrokes too thick? Should she give up on the impasto and work with linearity instead? But he wasn't talking about technique – he was referring to actual magic.

Hearth, who had never really been a strong mage (in a family full of strong mages, at that) watched with wide eyes – that deer in headlights stare – as he caressed the canvas, which rippled. Suddenly, her art was alive. No, not in that sense of the word that art critics tossed around – oh, the figures in this work look as if they could walk off the canvas at any moment! – but actually alive. Citizens strolled through the streets, trees swayed, and the wind waltzed through the display.

The young artist almost didn't realize that she was holding her breath, as if she had been underwater, waiting to be brought back to the surface – reality. But the magic imbued in the painting was real, even though it seemed too good to be true. Lucan was grinning at her, asking, Now what do you think of that? And Hearth, as usual, was scrambling to find the words.

"I th-think..." she began, and she shook her head. No, that wasn't right. "I... um..." Words were simply lost to her. If they had ever been lost before, now they had gone and left without giving her any hint or clue as to where they may be. For a moment, all she could do was look at him, and then look back at the portrait, as if expecting everything to vanish in front of her eyes. But she didn't have any words, she really didn't, so instead, she threw her arms around the apothecary, because this was literally the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. She never hugged anyone before – besides her family – so it was a first for her, but it really was the only way she could stress what his kindness meant to her.

Finally, she drew away, cheeks red from her impulsive actions. She twiddled her fingers in her hands, looking down at her toes, which she shuffled nervously on the floor. "Th-Thank you... L-Lucan," she finally managed to say, with minimal stutter. "I... R-Really... Th-there r-really are n-no words to d-d-describe... how th-thankful I am."

[Lion]

The alchemist was a quiet man, a patient one at that, and he let her take her time to make up her mind how she took that little trick.  It wasn't anything completely impressive, a little negligent parlor magic that anyone with at least a grain of knowledge could have enacted upon unfinished canvas of Lindolen.  Or was it?  Lucan gave the painting a peculiar grin, and his eyes flashed as if he knew more than he was letting on.  Sure the picture was moving, but why?  Why would he do this for her?  And why did he tell no one else of whatever scant magic abilities he had?

The alchemist only waited for words.  Words that refused to come.  He did not expect what she did, for her arms to be thrown around his neck and to be hugged so snugly, so wholeheartedly.  Lucan paused for a good long moment, unsure of what to say himself as she thanked him.  Actions certainly did speak louder than words didn't they.  He just stared at the moving painting, wide-eyed, but the smile the faded slowly turned back, a wicked grin, but one not unsympathetic.  His arms wrapped around her and kissed her cheek before letting her go.  "You're very welcome, young lady," he said, turning his smile into something far more congenial.

"Let's keep that little trick between us," he continued.  "I wouldn't want everyone coming along and asking me to make their paintings start coming to life.  That's just for you.  This way no matter where you go, you'll always have Lindolen close to you.  And the more you paint, the rest of it be active as well.  The effect will only last a short while.  And only when you touch it, will it ripple and begin to move.  Consider this my gift to you."  Lucan nodded and pointed to the picture once again as the people that moved in the square began to slow down, returning to their original positions.  He stood up and took his spectacles off once more, cleaning them on the lapels of his shirt.  "When the painting is finished, seasons ought to come and go the city, almost like the real thing."

He put his glasses back on and put his hands behind his back.  "Well, thank you for this wonderful excursion, Hearth.  I loved all of your work.  But I think it was about time I got back to my quarters.  Though I demand you come back in a few days to let me check up on your cough, is that clear?  Alchemist's orders," he said, that last part done with a stern tone.  But he softened his face and nodded.  "I can let myself out, though.  I'll see you again, young lady."  And with that he stepped towards the door and closed it behind him, walking the way back down the hallway and long staircase that led up to her quarters.

As he reached the main corridor, he took the thread from around his neck that held the key to his chambers and stuck it into the lock of the door.  He turned it and at the same time turned his head to the side, spotting Raifael Stone walking down the hallway, flexing the stiffened leather of his gloved hand.  The young man paused, feeling eyes on him, and turned his head up to look at the alchemist.  They exchanged long glances, but Lucan narrowed his eyes and gave the young man an icy gaze before letting his lips twist in a wry grin.  He slipped into his room without a word and closed the heavy wooden door softly behind him.

Raif stood there, frozen for a moment.  There was something odd about the man Father hired as the family alchemist.  There was a bad vibe that coursed down his spine from the look the older man gave him, like there was something off.  He hadn't spent much time with the alchemist, but he couldn't say he liked him much.  As far as he knew, this Lucan never left his quarters; at least he'd never seen him step outside those large double-doors, and he'd passed through this hallways enough times on his way toward the stables.  Something wasn't right here....  This was where Hearth's room was, wasn't it?  Had he been up there with his sister?  Hearth never had too many people up there aside from him or Gemini.  Raif visibly grimaced at the thought of his fool of a brother.

He walked down the hall toward the opening of the staircase that led up to Hearth's chambers.  Climbing up the stone steps were too easy, taking two or three at a time rather than one by one and before he knew it, he made it Hearth's door and knocked on the door softly before he pushed the door slightly ajar.  "Hello, Hearth," he said, trying to offer a smile that didn't feel awkward.  Yet it felt so strange to be up here for this was Hearth's sanctuary, her quiet place where she could be herself without worry of having to live up to impossible expectations.  "Um, sorry if I'm bothering you but...well, I was wondering if you wanted to...  Um, no, no."

It was preposterous to imagine that he could ever be without words!  "That's not why I came here," Raif said, slowly coming in to the room.  He held his hands behind his back and kept his eyes around the room.  "I was just walking down the hallway and I saw the new alchemist coming from across it...  That man....wasn't up –here—by any chance, er, was he?"

[Anonymous]

Hearth's smile only grew larger as Lucan told her to keep this trick a secret, something she could definitely do. After all, he had given her such a wonderful present, so she would guard this little gift as well as she could. As he kissed her on the cheek, Hearth grinned, eyes wide in unabashed joy— she couldn't recall last when she had smiled so broadly. While she wasn't a melancholy girl in the least, it was rare that something excited her as much as Lucan's touch of magic did.

"D-Don't w-worry, this s-s-s-secret's s-safe w-with m-me," Hearth reassured, nodding firmly. "I-I'll b-be s-s-sure t-to c-c-come b-back for a ch-checkup, t-too!" As it was, she was almost a little sad to see him leave. She never would've imagined being able to confide in the alchemist so easily— old Hemlock had never been so personable — but Mr. Stromwell, or rather, Lucan, had proved her wrong in that regard.

She looked back towards her landscape painting of Lindolen, and now, more than ever, found herself motivated to complete it. Already, the painting had been something she held very dear to her, but now that magic dusted her brushstrokes, she couldn't help but wonder how it would move and change with the seasons. She exited her hidden storage room, slowly drawing the long door closed, feeling a little more invigorated than before, despite the small cough that still nagged at her throat. In fact, she had almost forgotten all about it, but now that she was alone, the itchy feeling felt more prominent than it had before. She would do well to make good use of those tea leaves Lucan had given her...

Moments after she had closed the door of her hidden art storage, a small knock echoed on the back of her door. The door softly creaked as it closed, Hearth's cornflower blue eyes wide, before noticing it was merely Raif who had come calling on her. "Oh! H-Hello, R-Raif!" she greeted, matching his awkward smile for her own easygoing one. By her cheerful smile and upbeat greeting, it might've been easy to tell that Hearth was feeling a lot more jovial than normal. She was almost radiant, optimism spilling out of her aura.

"Um, sorry if I'm bothering you but...well, I was wondering if you wanted to... Um, no, no."

Hearth giggled a little— stammering and searching for words was her thing, wasn't it? She would've made a joke to help break that awkwardness Raif seemed to have with her today, but he quickly regained himself. Apparently, all he wanted to know was if the alchemist had been up here. Was that all? That was an easy thing to answer!

"Oh, h-he w-was!" Hearth clarified, smiling at the thought. "I h-had a c-cough, so I w-w-went t-to see h-him for m-medicine, and th-then he w-wanted to see m-my p-p-paintings," she explained. "H-He s-said I-I'm one of th-the b-b-b-best p-painters in Fallial! C-Can y-you b-b-b-believe th-that, R-Raif? I c-certaintly c-c-couldn't!" She bounced on the tips of her toes, gushing on. "H-He r-really is a n-n-nice m-man, once y-y-you g-g-get to know h-him."

[Lion]

[Short post is short, whoops.]

Raif tilted his head and found he had to look away as he listened to Hearth explain about the Alchemist.  He trusted his young sister to be honest with him.  Why shouldn't she after all?  It wasn't like he had any reason to lie to her.  But the way she talked about him, something twisted in his gut that made him feel severely uncomfortable.  He didn't like the excitement by which she went on and felt his temper rise and he was tempted to snap at her about it before she finally finished what she had to say herself.  He felt worried, though he didn't know why.

He walked closer and took a seat on a chair by the wall.  "He seems...okay, I suppose," he murmured, lying to her for the first time.  "I haven't come down with anything recently, so I haven't had much interaction with him.  But I've watched him come and go a few times.  I mean...doesn't he seem a little odd to you?  He walks funny, lanky-like.  And he seems to talk an awful lot.  He doesn't seem strange to you?"

[Anonymous]

[ Pffft, don't worry about it! ]

"Oh n-no, n-not at a-all!" Hearth responded, shaking her head. She was unable to recall anything weird about Lucan at all, especially not anything to do with his gait or how much he talked. He had been ever so polite to her, had listened to her qualms even though he hadn't been obligated to in the least, and had even infused a touch of magic in her painting. The youngest of House Stone was sure that if Raif had known about what Lucan had done, he wouldn't think him strange at all — but of course, she was not going to blab about Lucan's gift to her; he had not wanted her to do so, and she would honor his wish.

She took a seat on her bed, placing her hands on her lip, her legs dangling off the bed leisurely. The painter looked at her brother, wholly oblivious to his true feelings towards Lucan, smiling innocently at him. "I b-b-believe he is a v-v-very k-k-kind and p-patient m-man," Hearth confided, and nodded, smiling. "P-Perhaps if you sp-spoke with h-him, R-Raif, y-you'd s-s-see that h-he's not st-strange at all! At l-least...I d-d-don't b-believe he is."

[Lion]

Raif's frown deepened, but his expression was thoughtful and he began to wander around the room.  How could she have gotten so close to the stranger living in their house so quickly?  She was such a shy one and it was unlike her.  But it seemed, based on her tone and words that Lucan knew how to talk to people, much like him, yet perhaps even more so.  Raif crossed his arms over his chest, trying to think over what the alchemist might have said to get so close to someone who'd never done so before.  His pacing took him over to the closet where he knew his sister hid all her paintings.  He put his hand on the door knob, recent warmth of the metal there.

"I don't trust him," he said after that long silence.  "I don't know him.  He's a stranger living in our home and yet you speak of him like he's a member of our family.  But I'm going to be honest with you here and now, Hearth, he's not.  Plain and simple.  He might act like your friend, he might say the right things, the right words, and seem like a nice person, but there's something wrong with him.  I don't like that you're so chummy with him so quickly," he said in a calm tone.   Raif opened the door slightly and looked at all of Hearth's paintings.

"He talked to you about your paintings huh...?"  It was rhetorical and Raif's eyes scouted, scrutinizing each one before his eyes landed on the painting of Lindolen, the one Father decreed would be a gift to Hearth's future suitor, whoever the boy may be.  "He stares at me you know, watches me from the tower window when I'm out on the fields training."  Raif had his back to her as he stepped closer to the unfinished painting of the city.  "I noticed one morning when I was coming back from hunting.  Lucan just stood at the window and watched me, watched me like he could...read my mind or something.  It was like he could see right through me and it gave a bad chill down my spine.  I even stared back, tried reaching my mind out to him, but I couldn't read anything.  It was like a black cloud was hanging over my vision, and, when I lingered too long, I was struck by lightning and got the most terrible headache I've ever had in my life.  I thought my head was going to split open and my brains were going to fall out.

"That's never happened to me before and I knew then that something was wrong.  Terribly wrong.  And I'm going to find out what it is."  As he spoke Raif's hand reached out and almost touched the canvas of Lindolen before he paused a fraction away from it, thinking better of it than to mar the canvas with his gloved hand.

"He could have drove me insane if he tried, I'm sure...  Wouldn't you call that...strange?"

[Anonymous]

Hearth's spirits were considerably dampened by Raif's take on their apothecary. Sure, he was a stranger living in their home, but weren't all of their servants? Hearth did like to try and see them as friends — she was sure she would've liked to be friends with the people she worked for and lived with, if the situation had been reversed.

She clasped her hands together at Raif's observation on how quickly she'd befriended him, swinging her feet back and forth while looking down at them. She knew it was rare for her to get along with someone so easily, but that was why she had been so excited! In fact, she had taken it as a good that she and Lucan had gotten along so well — it was rare, after all, for Hearth to make friends at all. The youngest of House Stone couldn't wrap her head around the idea that being chummy with him so quickly could be a bad thing.

The painter listened quietly to Raif's thoughts, looking down at the floor until he opened the door to her paintings' storage room. At the sound of the door rumbling open slightly, she picked up her head, eyes widening a little, watching Raif step inside. She opened her mouth to say something, but he was still going on about Lucan and lightning strikes, and she wasn't sure if she could say anything even if she wanted to.

She merely watched, but as he approached her painting of Lindolen, she stood up, stretched out a hand towards him, while something squeaked in the back of her throat, but no words came. All she could think of was the promise she made to Lucan, and how it could come to be squandered away in one day! Thankfully, he stopped, and Hearth let out a tiny sight of relief, resting her arm back down at her side.

"He could have drove me insane if he tried, I'm sure... Wouldn't you call that...strange?"

"It is... a l-little s-s-strange, I g-g-guess..." Hearth tried to agree, nodding. Had Lucan really been watching Raif train? But wasn't that such an innocuous thing to do, anyway? He must be bored — he probably didn't have much to do, besides mixing Father's elixirs every month — so maybe he was watching him to cure some of that boredom. She couldn't explain why Raif had felt so strangely afterward though, but maybe he had been fatigued from training. That seemed like a logical answer to her.

"I m-m-mean... I n-never n-noticed a-a-anything w-weird about h-him," she admitted, not really sure how to react to Raif's account of Lucan's behavior. "Wh-why d-do y-you th-think he w-w-would a-act in s-s-such a w-way t-to y-you?" She couldn't register how the man who had listened to her and imbued a bit of magic in her painting would do such a thing to her brother, but she didn't want to believe Raif was making this up either. Hearth was sure there was a misunderstanding going on here, but she wasn't going to suggest that when Raif seemed so certain of his theory.

[Lion]

[Just give a reaction, then I'll toss in a time skip in the next post.]

Raif knew his words were harsh, cruel even, but they had to be said.  And as far as he was concerned, it better that it was him that told it to her straight to her face to have to spy, lie, and conspire behind her back.  He wanted to her only to be aware, wary even, of this stranger that occupied their home in place of the old apothecary that Raif would trust more with his life than this Lucan ever could.  Whatever it was that set him off about the man, he was determined to find out.  And if he could protect his sister while he could, he would do that.  Even if it meant tearing her away from something; it was all for her own good.  Yet...perhaps now that he thought about it, he was starting to sound like Father.  As if he knew best for her.

No, no, this was the work of Doubt.  Of demons coming to dismantle the confidence of mind.  Raif knew this was the right choice.  It had to be...  Then why did he feel like a monster by telling her these things?  Was Father a monster by seeking her to marry his youngest daughter while she was so naïve, so young?  Was he even qualified to ask these questions?  Were there not boundaries set by whatever gods there may be to keep men and monsters separated?  What good was he doing by telling his dear sister to stay away from this apothecary?  He could only base it on faith, and his love for his sister, that he might have any basis to keep her from harm...  Yet, at times, he didn't even know what he believed in anymore.

"I-I," he began, actually stuttering as the very thought of what happened unnerved him.  "I don't know...  I wish I was wrong.  But I don't even know if I'm right.  Yet, I have to be.  I just have to.  I have to find out why that happened.  What if it happened again?  What if it was worse...?  What if he did the same to you Hearth?  You have to think about these things.  Just think.  Some things just don't fit together.  How did he know to come right to this place out of the hundreds of apothecaries Father must have contacted to find a replacement?  He's either too good at what he does, and he got the news, or...or...  Oh, I'm so sorry Hearth.  I just don't know what's going on...  It just doesn't seem to add up to me.

"Maybe I'm just...I'm just tired from all that training I did this morning.  I'm sorry if I disturbed you, or bothered you," he said quietly, lowering his head.  He closed her closet door and stepped away from it, holding his damaged hand, finding it was pained underneath he glove, though why, he didn't know.  "I'll take my leave now.  I know you want to be alone up here."  He headed for the door and lingered by it.   "But remember what I said.  Please.  Be..careful.  Just be careful."

[Anonymous]

[ No problem! Bah, and sorry my posts have been taking forever lately! Shouldn't happen anymore. ]

The painter knew Raif was not one to throw around baseless accusations. If Raif was telling her about his experiences with the alchemist — of the splitting headache he'd had, of Lucan lingering near the window — then it  was because he was truly worried for her, because he'd thought things over before coming to her at all. He was no Gemini, Hearth knew — he did not act based solely off what he was feeling at the time, no. He was more tactical than that. If he was coming to her with this knowledge, then, despite everything Hearth believed about Lucan, shouldn't she do her brother good, and at least take his warning to heart? Of all things, she owed him that much.

She clasped her hands together, and watched with cornflower blue eyes as Raif lingered near the door. She wanted to tell him that she didn't mind the company, not at all — sometimes it did get lonely up here, in the tower — but as usual, she couldn't find the words. As usual, they stayed lodged in their throat, and she'd rather them stay there than attempt to put her thoughts into audible sentences. It was so much work, such a hassle, a task that kept her silent most of the time. So she said nothing, but looked on at him, wishing she could do something to lighten Raif's spirits.

"I-I'll... I-I'll b-b-be c-careful, Raif," she promised, and she meant it, truly. While she believed that Lucan was a good person, how could she dismiss Raif's warnings? She couldn't, not when he looked so grave, so lost. "P-Please, Raif, y-y-you sh-should be c-c-careful t-too." She didn't know what he should be careful of, really. Of Lucan? Of the power that had made him dizzy with pain, on that day? She didn't know, didn't know what to think or make of the situation, but she wanted Raif to be careful as well, nonetheless.

[Lion]

[No worries.  The delays are actually helping me maintain the illusion that I'm actually keeping up with all my posts! xD]

The time between then and Hearth's next check up went by excruciatingly quick.  Raif kept his eye on the alchemist and noticed that the man, despite his work and seemingly lack of patients, hadn't bothered to sleep at any time during those days.  He'd heard of a crazy, over-worked sorcerer in the province up north who rarely slept at all as well and knew that insomnia was not an uncommon thing.  Especially to those that dabbled in the magical and alchemical arts.  Yet he knew that that man was reputed to sleep in any place he deemed fit for he was often manic, crazed, bordering psychotic even.  And he'd yet to have seen this type of behavior from this stranger in their home.

In fact, Lucan Stromwell seemed nothing but lucid and well-meaning.  He worked quietly, kept to himself, bothered none of the other servants, except for perhaps what could be construed as a flirtatious glance at a young maid or two but that was not out of the ordinary.  Was he being paranoid for no reason?  Was Hearth actually right about this man he could not bring himself to trust?  Raif slept fitfully, dreaming crazy, restless dreams, if they were dreams at all and not nightmares.  He felt more tired trying to watch the apothecary that the apothecary seemed from lack of sleep.  Perhaps Hearth really was right.  Maybe all of his suspicions really were a part of his imagination.

Lucan had left his door unusually open the morning of Hearth's  next check-up and he sat at his desk writing something down almost secretively, leaning over it and scribbling as if the very light from the window would come and steal away the knowledge of the words hidden away on the parchment.  He'd been expecting Hearth and did not look up when he heard footsteps by the doorway.  "Nope, not the ones," he said.

He kept writing, listening for the right weight and sound each foot carried to ensure it was Hearth who entered the doorway and not someone he was not expecting.  When he felt he heard the right ones he looked up and smiled.  "Ah, Hearth, come in, come in," he ushered.  "And how is my next favorite patient feeling today?  It actually would be quite unethical for me to have favorites, but your father is actually a good man to know, if a little bird-like, with all his flightiness.  But you, you're a gem in this dull stonework.  Come in, child, let's see if those herbs I gave you have done anything miraculous in the last few days."

[Anonymous]

Despite Raif's wary warning, Hearth's days had never been brighter after meeting with their new apothecary. She had taken care to brew the herbs just as he'd instructed, and had taken to her studio straight afterwards, spending long hours in front of her landscape painting of Lindolen. Ever since Lucan had imbued that bit of magic amongst her ink, Hearth had been more determined to work on it than before.

Standing by her easel, her paintbrush held artfully in one hand, she took to her work much more seriously, much more pensively. Now, more than ever did she think hard on color choice, mixing paints delicately before applying them to her treasured canvas, contemplating what shades and hues would best express the city she loved so dearly.

Sometimes she would spend a whole day working on the details of one building, sometimes she would labor over something miniscule, like a window or door or merchant stall, skillfully capturing details she hadn't even seen before. There was no doubt her skill had improved, and even though she hadn't covered very much of her canvas since her meeting with Lucan, she enjoyed the process of her labor more than usual. Sure, she wasn't sure just who would be inheriting this canvas, but that didn't matter as much the process of creating it did.

She was due for her check-up — something she normally would've dreaded, but today, she looked forward to it. The youngest of House Stone made her way to Lucan's quarters, and people turned heads, wondering what gave Lady Hearth such a spring in her step. It was rare to see her out of her room, even rarer to feel unabashed glee emanating off her form.

Hearth smiled a little, seeing Lucan's door open, and to see that she'd be recognized so quickly. "M-Mr. S-Stromwell!" she greeted with a jovial nod, but then caught herself. "O-Oh, I m-mean, L-Lucan! I am f-feeling v-v-very w-well, th-thanks to y-your herbs." It had been the quickest she had ever recovered from a cough, even with old Hemlock's medications. Hearth stepped into his quarters, taking a seat on the usual stool, the same one as before.

Her smile only grew wider at Lucan's claim, that she was his favorite patient. "O-Oh, th-thank y-you!" she replied, touched. "I-I d-don't kn-know if it m-means a-anything, b-but, y-you're my f-favorite a-alchemist!" She turned a little red, shaking her head. "F-For wh-what i-its w-worth..." She had only known two in her whole life, but he was a lot more personable than old Hemlock, that was for sure. In truth, she still couldn't understand Raif's warning or why it had come at such an odd time... She did promise him that she'd be careful, and she would be, but it was hard to be wary when she trusted Lucan like she did.