[ Upon returning to his room at the Valentia and discovering this unexpected windfall, Elan surmises a few things.
First, and most stupidly, is that witches are real; magic exists. He's not sure what he means by this when it occurs to him, but he sees no other explanation -- rather, non-explanation -- for the fact that his room is the mirror image of how he remembers it. It's a thought that takes the place of the shock this would've given him before his full corruption, and is there and gone -- an observation filed away in his consciousness for later.
Second, and arguably just as stupid, is that Four must have had precious little to do with his room after his hospitalization. Four's mattress is gone; the coins mark the outline of where Elan's bed used to be, unbroken and uniform; ergo, the room was rearranged after Four left -- and Four never came back. Four might not have taken any of the money, but Elan can't see why Five wouldn't have helped himself to some for a replacement Syntrofos if he'd been told of its existence (plus a little extra, as interest). Hell, Five probably would have made off with it all if he'd had the chance -- and now he won't, because Elan is moving out and on with his life.
Despite the fact his face betrays him as a golem, he is polite enough -- well-dressed enough, pleasant enough, just quick enough; obsequious in the ways and at the moments a prospective landlord would expect, because he knows the type -- to secure a row house with two bedrooms on the border of Belle Ville and Basileios. On the day he packs up the little he'd kept in his room at the Valentia to his new lodgings, he passes by Four's room -- still occupied by "Elan Ceres," it seems -- and slips a key under his door. A text with his address shortly follows.
What he doesn't give Four is any explanation; any justification. Elan does this -- as he does most things -- on a whim driven by his wants, his sense of what's best, and his disinclination to feel (be) indebted. It would help to have Four around while he recovers; that's what Four demanded from him, after all. It acknowledges how Four used him -- and did him good -- while he was dormant at the clinic. And if Elan has come to associate Four with anything, it's -- inexplicably; unsettlingly -- with calm. He's can't figure why, can't dismiss or get rid of it either -- and why would he? It's useful, to have someone who makes him feel this way. It's nice. The reasons hardly matter. ]
[Four doesn't respond to the text or acknowledge that he received the key in any other way, but he does show up at the new address shortly after delivery. Whether Elan is there at the time or not, Four simply proceeds as if he's always been there--he doesn't say a word to Elan unless spoken to first, gravitating toward the furthest unclaimed room and beginning to occupy it without a conversation. He doesn't have much to move in, so it's basically like he just appears out of nowhere. Surprise!
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backdated to the end of october/beginning of november
First, and most stupidly, is that witches are real; magic exists. He's not sure what he means by this when it occurs to him, but he sees no other explanation -- rather, non-explanation -- for the fact that his room is the mirror image of how he remembers it. It's a thought that takes the place of the shock this would've given him before his full corruption, and is there and gone -- an observation filed away in his consciousness for later.
Second, and arguably just as stupid, is that Four must have had precious little to do with his room after his hospitalization. Four's mattress is gone; the coins mark the outline of where Elan's bed used to be, unbroken and uniform; ergo, the room was rearranged after Four left -- and Four never came back. Four might not have taken any of the money, but Elan can't see why Five wouldn't have helped himself to some for a replacement Syntrofos if he'd been told of its existence (plus a little extra, as interest). Hell, Five probably would have made off with it all if he'd had the chance -- and now he won't, because Elan is moving out and on with his life.
Despite the fact his face betrays him as a golem, he is polite enough -- well-dressed enough, pleasant enough, just quick enough; obsequious in the ways and at the moments a prospective landlord would expect, because he knows the type -- to secure a row house with two bedrooms on the border of Belle Ville and Basileios. On the day he packs up the little he'd kept in his room at the Valentia to his new lodgings, he passes by Four's room -- still occupied by "Elan Ceres," it seems -- and slips a key under his door. A text with his address shortly follows.
What he doesn't give Four is any explanation; any justification. Elan does this -- as he does most things -- on a whim driven by his wants, his sense of what's best, and his disinclination to feel (be) indebted. It would help to have Four around while he recovers; that's what Four demanded from him, after all. It acknowledges how Four used him -- and did him good -- while he was dormant at the clinic. And if Elan has come to associate Four with anything, it's -- inexplicably; unsettlingly -- with calm. He's can't figure why, can't dismiss or get rid of it either -- and why would he? It's useful, to have someone who makes him feel this way. It's nice. The reasons hardly matter. ]
no subject
This is, apparently, how they communicate now.]