impress me. [elijah]

ElijahThere was a phone call.

It was of a reasonable hour to have phone calls, some time after nine in the evening. Some time when people were no doubt getting ready to go out for the evening or closing up shop or any number of things that someone does in the early evening. The early evening that is only the early evening for people who have active and vibrant social lives. Active and vibrant lives that one Elijah Poirot does live from time to time, plays along and parties long and hard and strong until his body aches and he's got nothing left and he wakes up the next morning to do it again.

You don't know what you're made of until you push. Someday, he'll use that logic to do something more than party his ass off.

He couldn't do that right now, so instead of doing, he was in bed and finding that the recommended dosage of his pills wasn't exactly getting the job done. The dose that gets the job done gets him absolutely lit.

Ring ring.

KiaraIt's a Friday night and for once, the Verbena is minus any inclination to head out into the night. Rather, at this hour, she's curled up on her sofa with a thin blanket drawn over her legs; chin resting on a palm, watching TV. There's a steaming cup of something in the brunette's other hand where it rests against her knee and when her phone lights up and trills --

She reaches over to set it down; flicks her thumb over the screen and with a brief, twitching smile lifts it to her ear.

"Elijah, what's up?"

Elijah"-eeeeaaaaraaaaaaa-oh!" he raises his brows, sits up a little and makes a little whimper voice because he realized if he laughs too hard his stomach still hurts and his ribs aren't feeling too great but they're on the mend. "Hi."

No words there. He looks up at the ceiling where he's got stars stuck to the ceiling like he's twelve and mapping constellations and he has most assuredly mapped them correctly. He knew he had to, knew that it was important. He sounds fuzzy and pleased, oh heavenly pleased. So happy, like he radiates it.

"I had a car accident a few days ago."

KiaraHer eyebrows knit together, a hand reaching for the remote to mute the TV as she shifts the phone against her ear and straightens; back against the sofa. I had a car accident a few days ago and he can hear her startled breath; feel the confusion and the concern as she punctuates the exhale with a "Jesus" and then:

"Are you okay? Was anyone hurt? Where are you now? Are you - " A beat. "Elijah, are you high right now?"

She'd spent too many nights in clubs not to read the signs; even across a phone connection.

Elijah"Someone told me a rolled the car," he says, starts, and his voice dips into concern, "Ari and me- Ari and I? Me?"

There's this moment where his voice lilts and he tries, she can tell he's trying, like he's forgotten how English works and he's focusing really hard on his grammar but he just wants to ditch his English entirely but then Kiara won't talk to him and that would be horrible because he called her.

Are you high right now?
"I took a lot of oxycodone. They don't give you nearly as much as you need by the way."

A beat again.

"What question do I answer?" like a confused second grader.


KiaraThere's a pause and it could be construed as so many things. Concern, bewilderment, anger. Worry. It's difficult to deduce without the prompts of physical presence and the ability to glimpse someone's face what a silence could translate to.

He rolled the car. With Arionna. "You and Arionna were in an accident." She says eventually, parroting it back to him in slow, steady phrasing. "Are you still in hospital? Do you need me to come patch you up?"

Another pause; he can hear the rustling of her movement. Clothes against her skin. "You weren't being pursued or anything, were you?" More questions, it won't help Elijah to focus, the peppering of them.

Elijah"Kalen brought me home," he told her, "I got stitches and I broke that little-" she can hear him probably attempting to draw something in the air so it would make sense, completely oblivious to the fact that Kiara is completely incapable of seeing him. She then hears a clunk and a thump and a little merde! And then him scrambling to pick up his phone, "you know the ribs you have that are kinda hanging out there? I broke one of those, and another one but I forget which one it is."

He gingerly settles back in bed. She's getting dressed, "I'm mostly just vain. I got stitches and I think I'm gonna get a scar on my diaphragm." Which bothers him. the scar and the word diaphragm. It trips him up, that much is for sure.

"We were alone, I just blew a tire on a curve and I was stupid." Like it's an apology, like he's trying to convince her not to worry, that oh don't worry, I did something stupid. I do this all the time. Which stung a little. :You can get naked again if you were naked. Or just stop wearing pants... that sounded like pants."

Kiara"One of your false ribs. Or - maybe a vertebral rib. Floating rib." She offers easily, Kiara, as if the reference he was trying to make made total sense to her. And in all likelihood, it probably did. She reaches for her tea and takes a sip from it while he informs her that he's just vain and will have a scar and there's a huff of laughter from her at that.

The quiet clunk of her cup being set back down on the side table. "I hope that wasn't your best phone sex opening, kid," Her voice is warmer, now. The fact he's clearly not in any sudden and great peril has settled the edge of anxiety in her voice. That and perhaps, the knowledge Kalen had seen him and brought him home and if there had been an emergency, she was fairly certain the alarm would have been raised by the Hermatic.

"My night hasn't been that exciting unfortunately, my pants never came off. I'm hoping to rally before midnight, though." Wry, that.

"So I'm guessing a car crash put the damper on your date?"

Elijah"I am fantastic at phone sex, thank you very much," he says, almost indignant- oh darling, but he isn't. He laughs and it's little, restrained because he knows that laughing hurts. "And I will probably trade favors for my vanity. I'd play harp for you if you fixed iiiiiit. I promise I don't need a permanent reminder to pay attention to road signs."

She can hear him scoff, lay back on the table and he looks back at the ceiling. "Ari hasn't seen the chantry, right? So I was like Oh, I should introduce her to the people who run the place because they seem really cool. Because, you know, she needs to be involved. So, people!"

Kiara"I can't believe you play the harp." There's the suggestion of movement again, on Kiara's side. She's cast the blanket aside in favor of padding into her kitchen; rinsing her cup out; Elijah can hear the facet running; the muted clinking of dishes in the background.

"You can save your musical stylings for the ladies, though. I don't mind fixing it. If you're sure you don't want the scar. It could make for impressive dinner party conversations," she finishes; turning to lean against her counter with a hip pressed into it; wiping her hands on a dishtowel and cradling her phone between her shoulder and cheek.

"Annie is pretty chill. I don't know her sisters as well as I do her but they're good people." A beat. "So, you're going to take Arionna out there, huh?" Kiara makes a quiet noise. "That should make for an interesting evening." Quieter. "How's she doing with the whole lack of vision thing?"

Elijah"And the piano," he clarified, "but I got tired of the piano because I'm never gonna be as good as an eleven year old with a Tiger mom." He takes a second to muse over it, "I kinda want a piano again, though… but I'm taking harp for non-majors and piano for non majors and kinda wanting to see what it takes to be a harp major. Like, I could get a dual degree in french and harp and be, like, the most uselessly unemployable millennial ever. Achievement."

He listens to what she's saying, "I was going to sing to your voicemail, too. I might still do that."

Elijah mused, pursed his lips and it was a little quiet, a little concerned because he could wear concern openly. He was quite an emotional creature to say the least. "I think she's okay, but… I think it's hard on her, finding new things she can't do."

Kiara"I don't know Arionna well enough to say but - brief encounters would lead me to agree with that." She sounds, if not easily sympathetic, to some degree willing to attempt understanding. There was a fundamental fracture between the way she saw and Arionna saw (literally and in other ways) the world. The way they opened themselves to magic was worlds apart and yet - there was a core likeness, buried deep.

A drive to discover and understand.

"It's harsh." She'd said as much to Ian, the night she'd first learned of what had become of the Orphan. "But maybe that's what she needs to push past her own limitations. God only knows we all have something." The Verbena's tone lightens.

"You can sing into my voicemail any time you like. Though I may just hold the right to set it as my ringtone over you for the next twenty years." The warmth fades a little as she adds, after a beat. "Elijah? I'm glad you guys are okay. You being dead would be sort of a drag."

ElijahHe liked her. Perhaps in a romantic sense, perhaps not. Perhaps Elijah enjoyed most people in a sense that he may enjoy some sort of physical communion with them, might try and engage in some sort of emotional connection because he doesn't believe in the separation of self and other.  "I hope it is as big as she hopes it is. I want her to be happy, and she's so committed to being unhappy. And that must feel awful, and be exhausting."

He does listen to Kiara though, listens to talk of limitations and he starts to space out for a moment. the world spins, there's the edges of euphoria tingling there that will come down with a crash when he wakes up at five in the morning because things hurt again and maybe, for a second, he'll just sit with it and revel in the fact that he was still here. He's seen pictures of the car but he hasn't internalized it.

Her tone lightens, and she can feel something pull him back.

"It's okay, you can keep it. You would be the first person I've sung to on the phone, I don't even sing to Ian. Which I think he's probably pretty glad for," punctuated with a nod.

"Being dead isn't so bad," he tells Kiara, though it's gentle. Like an assurance, "it's hard for other people, but usually you don't stick around. Sometimes it's awful, but mostly people move on. As above, so below, and people move on."

Kiara"If you hung around, I'd reach across and slap you." That, the light retort to his assurance that usually spirits don't stick around, that being dead isn't so bad. It's on her tip of her tongue to add something more to it, his statement; his beliefs but she doesn't.

Perhaps it doesn't feel like the moment, with him addled by the drugs in his system.

He mentions that he doesn't even sing to Ian and what a blessing he likely considers that and there's a huff of laughter breathed out against the receiver; the sound of Kiara moving again; the rustle as she re-situates herself on her sofa.

"That might depend on a few things, like if you're any good at singing. You can call back and leave a message and I'll text you a score out of ten if you like."

Elijah"Aw, yay, thank you," he says, a tiny assurance.

She resituates and he nods along, and there is the sound of him sitting up- a lot slower. A little whoa sound because the world was moving not quite at the pace that he was and it was so freaking fantastic and he could feel his cheeks get warm.

"Kiara-Kiara-Kiara hang up, you can be my own Simon Cowell. You can even do the dismissive bemused British voice, I promise I won't get butthurt."

A beat.

"PromisehangingupnowI'mgonnasingtoyou."

Kiara"You're suggesting I become Simon Cowell?"

There's a trace of wry amusement back again in the brunette's voice; she makes a derisive noise. "I'm hanging up on you purely for making that suggestion."

A beat, he can hear the way she's smiling, envision the way it tips her supple mouth into something inviting; the edge of a dimple depressing each cheek; the ever present gleam to Kiara's eyes that toyed with the notion she was inwardly amused by some aspect of the goings on. She stretches and reclines herself along her sofa; rests her head on a hand and lifts the speaker to her mouth.

"Okay, impress me."

There's a click. She'd disconnected the call and stared down at the phone for a beat; expression twisting somewhere shy of bemused. When (if) he calls back, she lets it go through to her voicemail; lets her voice greet him; some pre-recorded version of Kiara Woolfe.

Hi, you've reached Kiara Woolfe. If you're calling to arrange a consultation, please leave your details after the beep.

BEEP.

It was his time to shine, for the tiny measure of seconds her voicemail allowed.

Elijah[OMG I AM ON STAGE (thank god I am medicated as fuck and really trying)]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 5 ) [WP]

Elijah
He is listening to her message and it's making his heart beat and the only thing his nerves are telling him to do is think of something and he doesn't… panic. He just kind of looks around the room. And it is only kind of looking because the lights were dim so he could look at his false constellations in the room. He's standing up, he's meandering, glad in a pair of athletic pants and a v-neck shirt that has, thankfully, the common decency to be a dark color so in the event that anything that he's bandaged up starts leaking (and that was a gross thought. He didn't like the idea that some part of him could be retaining particularly unpleasant fluid things. He did not envy Kalen. He is halfway expecting him to bow out in a couple of days and say we are fucking fixing this, your continued care is really stressful. And not in a cruel way, in that strange detached Kalen Holliday way wherein he muses over something and nonchalantly comes up with a solution to it. Or not. Eh. He might shrug and go back to his book, then.)

He's got his phone in one hand and a turquoise juice cup in the other.

"She had hair the color of an ugly bridesmaid's dress

and eyes like the earth beneath my back

She sat up as the sprinklers struck shameless then slick

Walked away, walked away, walked away.

You wait for the moment that you will feel different

you wait for the moment that you don't feel the same

You wait for the moment that you will feel different.

I waited for that moment, but that moment never came.

And so I waited by your porch swing,

Waited, watched the entry window hoping

You would come about but it was always just the same.

And I just walked away, walked away, walked away.

I waited for the moment hoping that you would feel different

I waited for the moment thinking "Things are not the same"

I waited for the moment hoping that you would feel different.

I just keep waiting for moments, but those moments never came."

He's fucking around while he's singing this. And his heart is in it, it's there and there is something personal, something aching, something offered up to whomever might listen that they would hear it and tread softly lest they tread upon his dreams but these aren't dreams. These are real. His voice is clear, he has a tone quality that is neither brassy nor brash. Not breathy or breathless despite the fact that he is breathless. Despite the fact that halfway through he has to put a hand on the counter and feels like his head is swimming because he has stitches in his fucking diaphragm and it's really hard to have any sense of breath control when your primary muscle for regulating that is just a liiiiiiittle torn. He finally gets through a phrase, and she can hear him opening the fridge at the line about the porch swing. Can hear him pouring some kind of something into a glass and then him carefully rummaging through cabinets for-

"And then I got lost inside the warehouse

and I couldn't find the whiskey

and I'm pretty sure my mentor knows me better than I think

Because I had half a bottle and I'm taking fucking pain pills

And these things do not mix as well as I think, as I think

And I think that perhaps I'll just deal for now, but for now

Fucking Kaleeeeen mooooved my vodka

Or maybe Grace hid the tequila-" he's actually belting at this point, like it's a hardcore ballad, like he's laid himself bare and he's standing at the edge of something big.

"And I can't think straight but I'm thinking of you

About you

And I wish I'd kept my bottles, and I wish I had thought better

but tonight I can't keep drinking about you."

Kiara
She'd opened a bottle of wine between hanging up on him and his return call going through to voicemail. Her phone vibrates across the sofa and then stills and Kiara; casting it a briefly amused look; had unearthed a clean glass and cranked the top open on a bottle of Merlot.

She's standing in the kitchen; one bare foot tucked against the heel of the other for a few moments after her phone grows still; the screen darkens. Stands there taking a deeper swallow of the wine than was polite (but who was there to keep watch these days, anyway and there's a second bedroom standing empty and dim that she's told nobody but Ian about). Perhaps she's doing it deliberately, letting Elijah sweat about his performance; about Kiara's thoughts on his offering.

Perhaps the conversation and the underlining unspokens to it; that he's injured; that he could have died; that Arionna could have; that it would have been another two people she knew dead before she'd even had the capacity or awareness to try and fix it.

Elijah wants superficial, scar fading healing from her and she stares down at her phone when she does move to collect it; gleans her own reflection in the screen; all that dark hair; those briefly haunted eyes before she taps into her messages and lets it play; settles back with one hand around that wine glass; half raised to her mouth; expression drawn in; somber before -

Kaleeeeen mooooved my vodka

Her lips compress and she turns her face; laughing; a resigned; affectionate hiss. Sets the glass down and taps out a message:

Eat your heart out, Simon Cowell. -K.

Then, a moment later:

Stay away from the tequila. -K.

ElijahHe stops his searching for something harder to go into his system because for the first time in awhile his body hurts and it actually reminds him of something. That he is mortal, that he is not indestructible, and it's the first time it's been proven to him in a fashion that wasn't of his own volition. He takes the glass of orange juice and takes a drink.

It's just orange juice.

As it turns out, he kinda likes just orange juice.

Kiara gets a picture soon enough. He's giving a thumbs up but he's a bit (a lot) bruised up. He's lucky he didn't break his nose. He's lucky that the gash on the side of his forehead only needed butterfly bandaids and not stitches. They're healing, but things that are healing don't always look the best. But, he has orange juice.

First Solo Glass of OJ since 2011

KiaraHe gets a picture in return. It may well prove to be the first (and who knew, only) image of Kiara that's ever saved to it. She's seated on her sofa; a dark purple affair; the wall behind her bare but for the edges of a picture framing it; a potted fern to her right; there's the tinges of artificial blue light hitting the Verbena's face on one side; the flash from the camera; her TV set beyond the scope of the shot, who knew.

She looks relaxed, smiling into the shot with a thumb lifted in response. Her dark hair loose around her shoulders; a hoodie half zipped. It's the glimpse of Kiara beneath the glamor she adorns like her own personal armor against the world. No make up, no adornments; just her face and her smile and the hints of that same gleaming stare she often dealt out.

There's a caption that comes after it.

Good boy. You've earned yourself a healing. Next time we'll take care of the scars. Sleep tight, kid. -K.