RP:Lies That Shatter Our World

Part of the Of Contracts and Families Arc

Synopsis: Lanara and Elioyahazer travel to Cenril to meet with Michael. Nothing goes as planned. Lanara finds more than enough evidence to prove Michaels innocence. Yet, Elioyahazer wants nothing more than to end the mans life that started the contract. She attacks him, and prevents the killer from doing just that. They have a moment where she explains her reasonings. Eventually Elioyahazer gives in and goes through the evidence himself. All that’s she’s found says that Michael is Eli’s father. That his mother was an arceaologist who had been captured by the Dal’ra tribe. He finds out that his own name means “Eli, son of a slave.” He also learns that his memories have been muddled. Lanara and Michael work together to release these spells. Suddenly the assassin finds himself questioning everything. Jez is a liar. She still lives, and his built up concept of a personal identity shatters.

Lies That Shatter Our World

Elioyahazer finds himself waiting just beyond the gates of this home, fumbling through his stored weapons. Nervously checking everything he had brought, while waiting for Lanara to meet him here. The sandman did not intend to just break into this home. Nor had he thought to enter it all weapons blazing. He half expected this man named Michael to have no idea what Eli actually looks like. The assassin, is clad in more becoming armor, but still allowing his features to be looked upon. Eventually he sighs and switches his sights to the rather large protective gates. Those iron bars which kept them at bay. They move to the windows beyond, where he sees much the same. Whoever this Michael was, he sure enjoyed his safety. Though perhaps it’s just built this way because it’s Cenril. A thieves den. What would Eli say to this man? Who was Michael and what was this word, Krawft? Honestly he had no idea.

Lanara leisurely made her way to the location that Eli had marked on the map, a home she never laid eyes upon, rested south of the famous bakery. The witch was extremely familiar with Cenril, as she often frequented the beach, raised hell at the Whaler’s Inn, and she had worked for the legendary crustacean for years as a model for his designer clothes shop. In her earlier years, she had lived with a lycan, Desparrow, over at the mansion nearer to the Rynvale side of the land. She’s somewhat surprised that this home had remained hidden for quite some time, as she was ever the curious little canary. It was like undiscovered territory, and her boots make faint scuffing sounds on the sandy path, as she quickens her pace to meet the assassin. Donning black leggings, a form-fitting pink blouse, and black ankle boots, she appears casual, as her long hair falls freely over her shoulders. Any form of weaponry remains unseen to the naked eye, though to those trained to find such things; they’d see a slight indentation in her left boot, and on her right hip, as two daggers had been safely tucked into the fabric. Upon catching sight of Eli, she gives him a reassuring smile, and pulls him in for a brief hug, “How are you holding up?”

Elioyahazer isn’t sure of how to respond to her light-hearted nature and that hug which she so happily pulls him into. Had she forgotten why they were here? That Michael was the originator of the contract over his life. By extension, the man who is also responsible for the threats upon Lanara’s own? Despite all of this he returns her hug in kind. “I’m,” his words fail him for a few moments. “I’m alright.” His mutated hues flick from her own chocolate ones and back to the gated entrance. “Just want this whole mess over with. To settle the score with Michael.” He’s anxious, and as much clearly visible upon his features. Would this be the end of everything? Probably not. The Serpents of Dissidence would soon learn of Quincy’s demise and decide on a new plan of action. “ Are you ready?” He eyes her form once more, looking to see if she had any hidden weapons. Once he’s received her response, he literally pushes on the gate. To his surprise, and most likely Lanara’s as well, it opens with a screeching noise. It’s so loud that whoever was home, would most likely know that someone is approaching. Which is now happening. The sandman literally follows the pathways, glancing to Lanara once to see if she had chosen to follow him. Finally, the elaborate front door is reached and Eli knocks. Yes, Mr. Michael, the unknown man. An Assassin has come calling and is knocking on your front door. This approach is straight forward to say the least.

Lanara didn’t need her empathic abilities to read the concern etched in Eli’s features, or to feel the stiffness in his arms as he wraps them around her for that brief embrace. The witch is the epitome of relaxed, at least in this moment. How could she not smile when she saw her beloved? Perhaps she was hopeful that some of her positive energy would wash over the assassin, and that he would get his game face on and end this once and for all? He’s anxious, wanting to face this Michael, and also wanting to avoid this altercation altogether. Krawft had something to do with the woman in the locket, Eli’s presumed mother. They needed answers, they needed the bounties on their heads removed, and she needed to know that they could lead a normal life together. This wasn’t for naught. “Hey…” Her arms slide down his form, and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, “No matter what we learn, or however this goes down… I’m with you. You know that, right? This can get super ugly. Hell, it can cost me my life. But… You’re worth it. This is –all- worth it. So… Let’s finish this.” She drops his hand, as he wouldn’t appear as badass with a petite brunette hanging on his arm. Lana walks a good foot behind Eli, taking in the majestic manor, admiring the landscaping, and she could swear she saw a small gray cat disappear around the corner of the house. The environment is cheerful, seagulls squeak in the distance, the scent of the ocean stings their nostrils, and a gentle breeze sweeps through the area. This was so far from the harsh sights and smells of Quincy’s cellar, that the witch finds it rather difficult to be intimidated. Swallowing, she marches up the steps and peers at Eli’s face as he raps on the door. He was an assassin, right? Shouldn’t he be scaling the home, up to the roof? Dropping in through a window? Working with the shadows? Apparently not, because here he is, knocking, and announcing his arrival. Was this a smart move? Lanara stands up tall, trying to appear as strong as the man at her side, though she falls considerably short as she lacks the height, weight, and muscle tone of the assassin. Furrowing her eyebrows, she clenches her jaw, feigning the best resting bitch face that she can muster, as she waits for someone to open the door.

The duo are greeted by a butler, who answers the door with a broad smile. “Hello, Mr and Misses…” He pauses not really knowing how to address them. “How may I help you?” His curious sideways glance at them both shows that their arrival is unexpected. Even if this stranger had interrupted their conversation, Eli replies to Lanara first. “I know, Lanara. Thank you for coming with me.” His gaze is true and he allows a smirk to cross his own visage before he gets down to business. “Ah, well, you see, I’m here to meet with Michael, could we perhaps see him?” The butler gives a single confused look. “I’m afraid not. He is in the middle of preparing for a meeting and must not be disturbed. I might take a message for you though, Mr?” Once again he’s referring to his lack of knowledge. It would seem that they were going to be derailed by a lone butler. How irritating! “I promise that meeting us is a serious issue. You see, this is about a contract he opened up with the Serpents of Dissidence so many years ago. I have an important update.” A thumb flicks to his chest. “I’m alive, and the group has failed. Now, you can either let us in and bring him to us or I get my hands dirty and drag his ass out myself.” Elioyahazers attitude has suddenly shifted. More importantly, he has that killers look in his eyes once more. “I see.” The butlers face goes ghost white. Even he knew of the contract. The failed one. “Come on in. Wait here in the main room while I bring him down.” Eli enters the home, and refuses to take his eyes off the butler as he meanders on over to the den and knocks on the door. “Michael. You have two important guests here to see you. Uhm. They are here about the contract you opened with the Serpents of Dissidence and he seems a little irritated.” A mumbled response comes through the door, and the butler turns to them once more. “He will be right out.” Without further word, he takes his leave. However, Lanara might notice that this main entrance is filled with painted pictures of a couple. The same couple, over and over. Eli doesn’t notice this at all. In fact, is she wearing the locket Eli has tied around his own neck? No. It can’t be, can it?

Lanara glares at the butler, as though this were all somehow his fault, and the mere sight of him sickened the witch. How could he not know the truth about his employer? Was he in cahoots with the Serpents of Dissidence? Maybe he was a butler by day and a killer by nightfall? Her mind runs wild with all of these possible scenarios, though Eli has a handle on things, and they are ushered inside. She can sense the shift in his mood, and a wicked grin replaces the bitchy glower she was aiming for, originally. That restaurant in Kelay would be nothing compared to what he’d do to the one that placed an actual hit on him. She can almost taste the havoc on her tongue, and as she flicks her hues to eye his profile, she freezes. The elegance of the foyer is breathtaking, true, but that’s not what garners her attention, nor is the richness the reason that her lush lips settle into a firm line. The locket that Eli wore was around the neck of the beauty in each of the paintings! Every painting is similar, the man and the woman are smiling, touching, and appear to be a happy couple. All that is different is their pause, the background, the colors of their attire. They either were together for a very long time, or they hired a famous painter to preserve every happy occasion, so that memory would be kept close to their hearts for all time. The butler is now locking on the next door, which is likely a study or library, and Lana continues to take in their environment. She didn’t feel any evil spirits lurking, at least not in the living room or foyer. So far, no one had leapt from the shadows to issue an attack, and the butler seemed disheveled by their arrival, as though they didn’t cater to visitors all that often. Was this the right place? Had Quincy gotten things all wrong? Did Eli bring them to the wrong location, and there was another Michael here, by coincidence? How did that woman and the locket fit into everything? The witch leaves Eli’s side, as she was one that was known to wander, and when the butler quirks a brow, she is quick with a reply, “I need to use the powder room, please? I’ve traveled so far… I’ll only be a moment, I promise.” She could be a lady when it was required, and the butler is charmed by the woman’s mannerisms, which were the exact opposite of the male’s, and so he points to the right of the staircase, “Third door on the left, down that hall…” Lana feigns a smile and beelines for the hall, aiming to get a more thorough look at things. It wasn’t what one saw in the sitting room, it’s what was discovered in the privacy of one’s home that would be telling, and so she pops her head into each room, hoping to find more clues.

If Lanara had indeed snooped around for long, she would find a room, one in particular that stands out from the rest. Within seems to be a shrine, to the woman in all of those paintings. The closet was filled with old tailored dresses that were outdated, by at least thirty years. She’d find a journal, which carried random notes about her life; with Michael. Their wedding day, her pregnancy, and lastly her trip into the nameless deserts. The evidence contained within says that she was an archaeologist and her last entries were of Michaels concerns about her leaving while still pregnant and a list of baby boy names; Eli being one of them, not Elioyahazer. The dates marked in the book also matches Eli’s assumed age. This is too much of a coincidence right? The room itself however, is dusty, and seems to remain as a reminder of who she was to this man Michael. There are no dirty secrets to find. Just an obvious reminder of sorrow and one other Journal, written by someone else… By Michael? It talks about how the Dal’ra lead a raid on his wife's caravan and captured her as a slave. How his own sister went to confront Jez and bring their child back, even after learning of his wife's death. Suddenly Lanara might be privy to shouts coming from the main hall. Had she wandered off for too long? When she returns Eli and an older gentleman are having serious words. “You’re wrong! I hired Jacob to bring you back to me, not kill you! You’re my son! I just wanted you to be with me. Not trapped as a slave to those Dal’ra Bastards like your mother was! I don’t understand why they are still hunting you. I..” He’s at a loss for words, clearly unable to explain his position sufficiently to Eli. “No, old man. My father is a member of the Dal’ra. Not some Cenril merchant. He sure as hell wouldn’t hire a group to kill his own son.” The sandman stops for a moment and is interrupted. “I didn’t hire them until your aunt was killed by that grotesque shaman Jez! My own sister went to retrieve you!” Eli has had enough, and has begun to stalk towards Michael. “Jez never killed anyone. I remember some noble woman, who smelled like lavender when I was ten. I stabbed her after she attacked Jez.” A dagger is finally pulled. “And here, I will end you once and for all.” Elioyahazer is seething with rage. How dare he spin lies about who he is!

Lanara continues to fulfilling her curiosity, as she breezes in and out of each room. The spacious kitchen. The pantry. The dining room. The powder room, which she spent a great deal of time in, trying a splash of each expensive perfume. She nearly gives up on her quest for answers, eager to return to her assassin, though there’s one room at the far end of the hall that draws her attention. The door is closed, whereas the others were ajar, almost welcoming one to go inside and snoop. This is suspicious. This is also why Lana finds herself heading in that direction, turning the knob, and slipping into the room. Was this a shrine? Her fingers trail along the dresser, coming away covered in dust, and she can tell that no one had visited this room in many years. It had remained untouched, as though like with the paintings, it was to be a memory preserved in time. She cannot explain why, but this saddens Lana, and she delves deeper into the room, peering beneath the bed, in the closet, atop the dressers, and finally, on the night stand, her eyes fall upon a dust coated diary. “Ooh… Let’s see what dirty secrets I can find in here…” Sitting at the edge of the bed, the witch opens the book, her pointer finger gently rubbing across the aged parchment. The penmanship is elegant, obviously feminine, and Lana scans each entry, delighted to read about this woman that was so head over heels in love with a man named Michael. The tale of their wedding, their honeymoon, and finally their pregnancy, all have Lana smiling. This was a story of love. And though she assumes it wasn’t a happy ending, and that this was all that remained of the archeologist, she can’t help but continue to turn the page. She’s enamored with their story, the chosen name of Eli, and how this woman had such a zest for life and adventure. In many ways, Lana is comparing herself to this woman, and she flips to the next page, only to find it blank. With a sigh, she closes the book, and glances at the opposite night stand, where a thinner diary lies, and she scrambles across the bed to retrieve it. Whereas the woman’s copy spoke of love and life, this one speaks of loss and death. Two sides to every story rings true in this case, and as Lanara sees the name ‘Jez’ scribbled, she knows that the son, Eli, is more than just a coincidence. After going back and forth, taking the dates and locations into account, she has an ‘aha’ moment, and gathers up both books, as she makes a mad dash for the main room. She’s halfway down the hall as she hears the shouting, she’s turning the corner when she sees the rage on Eli’s face, and she’s in the room when he unsheathes the dagger and steps menacingly towards Michael. “Sandman! NO!!!” He’s beyond hearing, this she knows, so Lana does all that she thinks is possible at this point in time, to get her assassin to see reason. Balling her hand into a fist, the petite woman drops the books on the floor, and sprints across the room, once she’s within a few feet, she leaps into the air, as graceful as the prima ballerina that she portrays. However, she may be beauty, and she may be grace, but that doesn’t stop her from punching her beloved in the face. Throwing all of her weight into the punch, she socks Eli in the throat, and for good measure, she delivers an upper cut to his left eye. The ‘lift’ is successful, and she coils her legs around his waist, as though to hold him in place. If he stabs her with his dagger, she’ll gladly take the injury, but she could not allow this man to kill his father in cold blood. “Eli, Eli, Eli… Listen to me, Sandman… Shhh… I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but honey, you have to hear this… I… I found some books.” Meanwhile, Michael stares wide eyed at the dysfunctional woman, who had robbed his home and beat up his well-trained son.

Lanara’s incoming attack is unknown to the two, and so their conversation continues.“You’re aunt smelled of Lavender, it’s true. But when she was recovered, evidence said that she had been burned to death. Set on fire. There isn’t a single stab wound on her body. So I don’t know what you are talking about. I believe this incident must have happened around the time that you were ten. Give or take a few months.” His voice trails off when Lanara finally enters the scene ruffing up Elioyahazer. What in the worlds is she talking about? Wait a minute, his eyes shift to the diaries she had just dropped. Eli however, is not amused in the slightest. Even with her legs wrapped around him and the stinging pain in body from her assault his attention is now on her. “Books. You found books and felt it sufficient to keep me from ending all of this?” His hand with the dagger waves to the man before him, not to mention the unpleasant volume of his voice. “It’s because of this damned fool that we’re both being hunted down, and now here you are, stopping it? You’d best tell me what side you stand on Lanara, because right now, you’ve betrayed me.” His words are harsh and brutal. This whole ordeal has stung him deep. Evidenced by the expression he has etched over his features. “Get off of me.” Eli puts every ounce of effort into prying her legs apart, and squirming out of her grasp. Finally he’s free of her. He stands there, waiting for her explanation, as if she’s suddenly on trial as well. He had opened up to her. Brought her into his life. Told her things that were privy to no one else, yet she chose to side against him. This had better be good for if not, it meant the end of them.

Lanara makes it hard for Eli to pry her off of his form, using all the muscles in those dancer’s legs to hold him tightly in place. “No, no, wait…” The dagger is waved around, and Eli is so quick to turn on her that she’s taken aback. Yes, she just barged in here and launched herself into his arms, only to deliver a few punches… But she would –never- betray someone that she loves. He may as well have stabbed her in the side, or backhanded her across the face, for his words had stung just as deep. Eli escapes her hold, and she loses her balance and falls onto the carpet, her mouth agape as she looks up at with him with watery eyes. “Elioyahazer!” It’s so rare that she uses his name, that she knows it’s enough to command his undivided attention. Pushing her palms to the floor, she forces herself into a standing position, ignoring the stinging in her knuckles. The assassin didn’t even flinch when she attacked him, as brutally as she could, too. Yet, both of her hands are burning something wicked, and her voice is wavering as she’s trying her damnedest to explain. “Elioyahazer…” Her voice is soft, and she points to the two books that lie haphazardly in the sitting room, about twenty feet away. “I went looking through the rooms. And… I found a woman’s diary. It was your mother’s diary… And… I found –his- diary, too…” Glancing over her shoulder, Lana locks eyes with Michael, and he gives the witch a grim nod. “You went into my wife’s room? Who are you, young lady? That room was closed for a reason…” He sighs and returns his gaze to his son, clearly at a loss for words. If Lanara hadn’t come along, he’d be dead, and so he doesn’t scold her as is his intent, for disturbing the room that he went to great lengths to keep untouched. Lana slowly walks over to Eli, “You can hit me. Stab me. Do –whatever- you feel you need to do… But I couldn’t just watch you murder your father. You had to know the truth. Maybe you will still want to end his existence, I don’t know. But… Please? Just look through those books. Your name, the dates, the locations… Jez is mentioned. All of it adds up! That book wasn’t touched in a very long time. The entire room is a shrine dedicated to the woman in the locket. Eli! Look at the paintings. Skim through those books. Please… Please, just listen to me, before you do anything you later come to regret?” Lana waits for his response, and if he agrees to look at the books, she would depart the room and afford the man and his father some privacy.

Elioyahazer isn’t in the mood for games. He’s not ready to let go of his hatred for this ‘Michael’ who has made his life a living hell. The man who has smeared the name of Jez. Claimed to be his father. He had to end it all, but this nonsense that Lanara spoke of wouldn’t be dropped. He valued her opinion enough to know that she had something important to say. So he stood there, in silence. “You called him Eli?” The older man’s voice rings out with a mild pain, backed with tears. “She chose a name?” He’s awash in grief, “Thank you for saving me.” He doesn’t know what else to say to her, and falls silent, waiting for Elioyahazer to respond. “They named me Elioyahazer. Eli is just a shortened version.” The desert born is quick to respond to his words, though slow to respond to her evidence. Finally his eyes shift to the paintings she’s mentioned, where he does notice that locket. “What?” Eli’s own voice is nearly trembling while he pulls the locket into view from beneath his keffiyeh and opens it. Michael responds to its sight instantly. “Your mother and I had that made for you. She wanted to give it to you after your birth. I can’t believe you still have it.” The assassin compares the pictures further, and wordlessly moves to the diaries. His eyes shift over all the evidence, the dates and times. There’s only one thing that he doesn’t understand. “If any of this is true Lana, why do I remember killing this noble, when Michael says she died of fire?” What sort of trickery is this? If Lanara were to actually study Eli with magic, she would find that his memories have been altered by magic, and that she could easily wipe such a folly spell away. His demeanor has calmed, and he is ignoring his father's presence entirely. Right now, everything hinged on her.

Lanara is privy to the anger ebbing off of Eli’s form, though she doesn’t back down. The tearful realization from Michael tells her that her suspicions were correct, and that what was written in those diaries is factual. The gratitude that pours from Michael is brushed aside, as the witch only cares about the man standing before her, uncertainty in his mottled gaze. Lana cares so deeply for Eli, that some would claim she’s infatuated, and she wouldn’t deny their findings. She loved him, and she was –in- love with him, and it’s so important for her to break through his walls, to help him figure out his past, and to build their future, side by side. So, she points out the important parts in the diaries, aiding him in gathering the facts, all the while rubbing between his shoulder blades. Her palm lowers from his back as Eli delivers an inquiry that leaves her speechless. “I… I can’t be sure… Sometimes we repress bad memories, so that we can get through the day. If something was painful, surely you altered the ending? Maybe, you wanted to believe that you killed this woman, because it was easier admitting to vengeance and murder… Than the fact that she Jez, the woman who raised you, was capable of something sinister. The Dal’ra was the only family you knew, Sandman… So it makes sense that you would cling to their ways, and their beliefs. You didn’t know enough to question them, right? Other than that I can’t think of a reason wh-“ Her voice trails off and she goes white as a ghost, shaking her head. Was it possible that someone had deliberately erased certain parts of Eli’s memory? Or used a particular spell to mar the truth? Feeling both men’s eyes upon her, Lana clears her throat, and the butler uses this as an excuse to go and fetch them all some water. He also had urinated himself upon seeing the spectacle between father and son, and all that waving around with the dagger. “I believed that I sustained a heady injury and that I had amnesia… However, the ‘healer’ that has rescued me, lied about a lot of things. He tampered with my memory, and cast a powerful spell on me. My powers were stronger than his, and over time, my mind returned to normal, and I reversed the effects. Jez was a powerful shaman, you say? It’s entirely possible that she placed a spell such as this upon you.” She pauses, glancing away, still a tad hurt that he didn’t wish to believe her at first. There’s a hesitancy in her tone, “I could use some of my magic to erase any lasting effects, if any, are on your mind… But… I’m a witch. I doubt you’d trust me enough for such a thing… Or believe me if things don’t turn out as you wish.”

Elioyahazer gives Lanara a long glance. Deciding on what she had revealed. “I should have listened Lanara.” His voice has grown silent at nothing more than a whisper. “I’m sorry to have doubted you and your reasonings. I just…. Had this whole moment built up in my head and I thought you were suddenly denying me that. If you think that my memories have been tampered with, by all means, investigate. I trust you, even if I die. I will never doubt again.” They are the only words that he offers up in response. She had always been there for him, and he knows it. He knows that she really is on his side. That she just didn’t want him doing anything that he would regret later. Especially if Michael had really turned out to be his father. Meanwhile, Michael has grown teary eyed himself. “No Eli.” Michael speaks again. “Your name is Eli. In the old Dal’ra language, o-ja-hazer means son of a slave. You’ve literally been telling everyone that your name is Eli, the son of a slave.” He pauses for a moment longer. “Eli Krawft. Your mother, Katherine would be so happy to know that you’ve made it back to me. To your family. I can’t thank your partner enough for this opportunity to at least explain myself. If his memories have indeed been tampered with, I will do whatever you need to assist you.” In truth, Michael just wants to start life with his son. Thirty some odd years after he had been born. The butler, finally returns with water for everyone and Eli refuses his glass. He wasn’t in the mood to drink anything right now. Finally Eli makes direct eye contact with Lana. "I just want to know the truth."

Lanara (Post 1 of 2) nods, accepting Eli’s apology, “I… I’m sorry that I hit you. You left me so little choice, and I had to get your attention before you did anything that you would later regret.” She wants to say more, there are so many things she wants to tell this man that she’s hasn’t yet verbalized, but she’s cut off as his father announces his true last name. Closing her mouth, she vows to say some of the things on her mind, later, in private, and she affords Michael his moment. “Krawft is a fine last name!” She’s already pairing her first name with it, though she wouldn’t be admitting that for a very long time! Lana accepts a glass of water from the butler and watches the interaction with Eli and Michael, trying to see any similarities in their appearance, and every so often she glances at the painting of Katherine. They were a good looking family, and she can see their resemblance in Eli, which brings a smile to her fair face. Michael is now thanking his ‘partner’ and offering Lanara assistance in any magical services that she can provide, and she lowers the glass to the table. It’s obvious that she’s touched by his words. Most would have turned her in for living by the pentacle, but this man accepted her as she was, for the love he had for his son shone in his eyes. “Um… I…” Why was she stammering? Nervous, she lifts the glass and takes another sip of water, glancing at the butler, “I need something stronger, please.” As in liquor, and lots of it. Though she doesn’t state that aloud. Lana never had a father figure in her life, so the attentiveness of Michael towards Eli is unsettling and she’s struggling to form words. Were all fathers like this? Her assassin looks her way and says he wants the truth, and she will grant him that, “Of course. Um… Michael?” There’s a long pause, as she thinks back on the spell that Taly did, knowing she’d have to make a few changes here and there to personalize it for their use. “I heard you both speaking about lavender. Would it be alright if I emptied out some of those perfume bottles in the powder room? Sometimes a scent, a noise, a taste… It can help to draw out the memory, during the spell.”

Lanara (Post 2 of 2) She would wait for his reply, and were he to agree to such a thing, she’d exit the room and return with several spray bottles. Each would be poured into a bowl, along with a few herbs she had borrowed from the kitchen. “Michael, please go and find me a white candle. Eli… I need you to lie down on the floor please… With your head facing north and your feet pointing towards the south. Arms and legs outstretched, do not cross any body parts. I’ll be with you in a moment.” As everyone begins to make their preparations, Lana adds the ingredients into the bowl. At one point, she pulls her necklace over her head and dips the pentacle thrice in the lavender and herbal mixture, before she presses the pendant to her lips, and places it back around her neck. Michael returns with the white candle, which she magically ignites, drawing a surprised gasp from the men, and she smiles. “Alright. I don’t have any sage on me, so this white candle will work to cleanse us.” Michael, Eli, and Lanara, are all cleansed, as the witch pours a drop of hot wax onto the palm of each of their hands and mutters an incantation in sylvan. The butler leaves the room; not wanting to bear witness to anything even remotely wicked. She then walks thrice around Eli, as though the imprint of her boots upon the carpet were the outlining of an actual circle, and her pentacle is torn from her neck, and dropped upon his form. He needed all the protection during this ritual. Michael stands before Eli’s feet, and Lana stands at his head, “The circle is now cast. No one can move until I close the circle. There are three of us, so the odds of this are ever in our favor for learning the truth. Once the spell exits my lips, it should take effect immediately, and the truth will come rushing back to Eli… However, it may not be as you remember, so please don’t freak out and leave the circle. Just keep calm, and I will close it as quickly as I can… And, if –nothing- happens, it means that there wasn’t any tampering on your mind.” Lana pauses, glancing down at Eli’s face, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Lanara might find that this house is a pro-witch home. Her identity as a witch bothers no one, including Michael. What Lanara had mistaken for disgust from the butler is actually genuine concern, for he returns with something stronger. Much stronger. “Here, I hope this is what you require?” As for the other items she needed, they are gathered without much ado, and everything is actually found scattered around the house. Finally Eli complies with Lanara and lays down as he’s been asked. He’s uncertain of this Michael fellow, but he does trust her. Its odd to see her working those magics. The one she had always hid from others. Once again he’s privy to his uncaged canary. She’s in her element and flying once again. All of their palms receive the droppings of wax, without any questioning to her explanation. Eli is silent. Michael is silent. Hell even the butler dare not to interrupt this woodland witch and her workings. Michaels future with Eli rested upon her success. Whether she thought his love for Eli was an odd thing or not. The sandman takes a deep breath, weighing what memories he has against what might be the truth. If this worked, everything would be different. “I’m ready Lana.”

Lanara gives a slow nod, “Close your eyes… It will help you to see.” She’s referring to the spell she’s about to work, of course. His memory would return in flashes, he may see things he can’t quite recall ever having seen, and he may even hear voices. This could be unpleasant, but it would also help to ease all of their questions. She had entered this circle in perfect love and perfect trust, as had Eli, and though she hardly knew Michael, she sensed that he bore love for his only child. Positive energy flows through the circle, the scent of lavender is heavy in the air, and the witch takes on a different persona, as though imbued with a power that most weren’t worthy of possessing, “Goddess, Goddess, hear this plea! By earth, air, fire, water, and spirits, times three! What was awakened from its sleep, must once again slumber deep. Return the disease, to whence it came, so life can ease back to the same.” A faint humming can be heard, though none that are present are making any noise, and if they were to really make a stretch, they’d sense that the vibrations are coming from the earth, answering the woman’s call. Eli would begin to feel flush, as the hex is removed from his memory, and he’d see nothing but a blank white slate. The time lapses, as Lana kneels and gently upends the bowl of perfume and herbs, allowing the liquid to trickle over Eli’s lips, nose, and his closed eyelids. The rest is poured onto his chest, near his heart, as though she were protecting it, as well as opening it to the truth that he would surely see. Another series of words would exit Lana’s lips, and she would repeat them three times, as she replaces the memories that were once lost to Eli. “As flame lights shadow, and truth ends fear. Open locked thoughts, to Elioyahazer’s mind’s willing ear. May the smoke from this candle, into everywhere creep. Bring innermost voices, to his mind in vivid speech. ” The spell complete, she rises to her feet, and locks eyes with Michael, giving him a reassuring smile. The assassin’s memory would be restored, and she’s hopeful.

Though Eli trusts Lanara’s every action, he can’t help but wonder what is happening? The vibrations coming from the earth are a subtle warning that things were about to be very different for this desert born assassin. He knew that deep down, things were never going to be the same. The white slate that he pictures is just that, blank. It’s empty. Void of any information. That changes in a flash. The herbs, smells and liquids unbind his mind, and what was once locked has changed. He remembers the customer, but a customer she is not. In fact, he can remember the conversation if he just concentrates hard enough. He affords this memory more space in his mind. She did verbally claim to be his aunt. Trying desperately to get the shaman to give him up. Though he isn’t prepared for what happens next. In his memory, he’s tackling Jez, clearly upset with her. Eli is given nothing more than a backhand, and sent back to the ground. “I’ve let you live your way for too long child.” Her attention switches back to his aunt with a sadistic grin. Without further word, she's the recipient of hellish flames that devour her body - charing her flesh. Those agonizing screams startle Eli, but it would seem that he’s truly asleep to Lanara and Michael. “You child, will forever be mine. Do my bidding. We are one after this moment.” Magic wells up in her hands, “You will forever wander this world thinking that you’ve killed to save me. That you enjoyed it. Loved it even. I will twist your memories to make it so.” And just like that, Eli bolts upright, fully awake. Tears in his eyes. He swallows back the lump in his throat. “I..” His attention moves to Michael, who’s nearly in the same state as himself, and then to Lana. “I need a moment. Can I leave the circle?” The assassin stands, waiting for her response, but she could tell, he didn’t want to talk right now. Other memories are still flashing through his mind, like the one of Jez’s death. Which turns out to be a farce. She lives still, and had just chosen to abandon him after her goals had been achieved.

Lanara :: The moment those memories resurface in Eli’s mind, the witch goes sways, feeling unsteady on her feet. The magic of the shaman is battling her at every turn, though her own craft is stronger, and it soon dissipates. Having won the war between magic’s, Lana’s energy is greatly depleted, though it’s then that her assassin’s eyes open and he abruptly sits up. She’s all too eager to close the circle, send the energy back into the earth, and to call off the elements. After walking three times counter clockwise, it’s officially done, and she gives a nod to Eli. He needed a few minutes alone, and she couldn’t blame him. They –all- needed some time to themselves after that ordeal. Lana retrieves the bottle of brandy from the butler, and he helps her over to the sofa, where they both take long pulls from the bottle. Every so often her gaze travels towards the next room, where she knows Eli had sought privacy, and it’s needling at the back of her mind that she can’t be there to provide comfort. Nails idly click against the bottle and Michael and her exchange a glance, as though seeing who would be the one to first go and check on the assassin and ask about his restored memories. The witch wins this round, and she passes the bottle back to the butler, giving a nod to Michael, “Make sure you share, Toothpick. That’s going to hit you so hard in the morning.” A faint smile is given, as she pushes herself off the couch, and slowly heads into the next room. She had waited fifteen minutes, which was a respectable about of time… And felt like an eternity for the witch. She hated being apart from her assassin. “Hey…” Lana’s voice is soft, hesitant, and her approach is slow enough that if he truly wants her gone, he only has to say the words and she will back off. “I’m here for you. We don’t even have to talk… Can I just… “ She feels foolish saying the words, so she closes the distance, and wraps her arms around Eli, burying her face in his damp shirt. The scent of lavender is consuming, but she doesn’t care. There was nowhere else she’d rather be, “Can I just hold you?”

Elioyahazer has no words to offer her. No response other than to open his arms up to her intrusion, though he still wears a visible frown of sadness. They’d stand there ignoring the world around them. After some time Eli finally puts his voice into the air. “My whole life is a lie.” He couldn’t fathom how she would still choose to be by his side, but he wouldn’t question something so good. “Thank you Lanara.” He gives her a final squeeze and then nods to her, ready to go back out to face his father. When he arrives in the room, assuming that Lanara had moved with him, he speaks to Michael. “I’m sorry for my behavior. Michael.” Eli still can’t get used to the concept that this man is his dad, and not the one he had been raised beneath as a child. “And, I believe you. Your sister was burned alive by Jez. She twisted the memory to make me believe I killed her. That I loved the thrill of the kill. That I was born for it. And I tell you this now, because I’ve seen through the veil of her lies. Jez the shaman still lives and even my memory of her death is a lie. My whole life has been one giant lie.” Michael shakes his head in disbelief, had this woman really done so much damage on his son? “Eli, I know that you don’t know me, but you two are free to come and go as you please. After all, this is your home. Something that I’m giving to you. I have a lot of things to make up for.” His gaze turns to the butler, “Would you show them to the master bedroom?” Without another sound the butler climbs to his feet. “Of course sir. Right this way you two.” Michael watches Eli and Lanara for moments longer. “Welcome home Eli. Please get some sleep.” The assassin looks to Lanara and gives in. They were both tired. Exhausted and who would refuse such an offer. Eventually, he follows the butler to the room, where they might be able to rest.

Lanara can’t find any words to ease Eli’s discomfort, as she’s not entirely sure what he means when he states his entire life is a lie. Both of them are frowning as he eventually pulls from the embrace, and she silently follows him into the adjoining room. The apology is offered and accepted betwixt father and son, and Lana finds that she holds sympathy for Michael. He never had the opportunity to see his son grow up, and he was hoping to make up for all that lost time. If they hadn’t made it to his doorstep, uninvited, the two never would have crossed paths. Quincy’s death had delivered this moment. Swallowing hard, Lana listens to the memories that had returned to Eli, and a rogue tear escapes her right eye, which she quickly swats away. The butler, she had fondly named Toothpick, escorts them to a master bedroom and once the door is closed she rounds on her assassin. “Sandman…” Was she still allowed to call him that? “Uh… Eli?” It felt wrong, not to call him by the preferred nickname, and she’d expectantly wait for him to respond to one or the other, before continuing, “Your life isn’t a lie. Parts of your past were a big lie. But… Now that you know what really happened, now that you have made it this far… You have been reunited with your father. You have a prestigious job at the Guild. And… You have me. I know this is so hard to take in, but don’t dwell on what was fake in the past. Don’t say your life is a lie. Instead, look towards your future. You can make changes in your present; we can rebuild the life you were meant to have… Get to know your father. Do the things you were kept from doing in the desert.” Lana begins to unbutton his shirt, hoping to rid the stench of the perfume from his skin, as she hears a bath being prepared nearby. “Eli… Don’t get lost on me, okay? No matter what sort of past you had, it doesn’t change who you are inside, or what you mean to me… I’m only concerned with our future.” The witch wouldn’t let him face his demons alone, today, or any other day.

Elioyahazer actually responds to both names, being used to having her call him by either over the course of their relationship. “I’m sorry Lanara. I just mean, that everything I -am- has been a lie. For years I’ve trained in the art of stealth and assassination. The subtle art of murder for hire. You know what I’ve realized?” He falls silent so that she might understand his words. He doesn’t mean that his relationship with her is a lie. He doesn’t mean that his position within the guild is one either. What he means is this: his own thoughts about who he is as a man, aren’t true. They were built on things that never actually existed. “I hate death.” His eyes flick down to those hands which are unbuttoning his shirt. “The thought of killing someone for money makes me sick. Years of training wasted on an ideal I never personally believed in. From here on out, I will never kill for money again.” His voice has filled with conviction, though it remains quiet enough for just her and himself. “I will no longer walk the path of an assassin. That’s Jez’s truth, not mine.” A deep breath is taken while he finds words to respond. “I’m already lost Lana. Who am I? I mean, I have you, which is no small thing. Without you I wouldn’t know the truth.” His hand moves to graze her cheek. “I wouldn’t know happiness or what companionship is like. I know that we will figure it out, but what am I really?” What does Eli want to be?

Lanara listens intently to his words, as she undoes the final buttons at the base of his shirt. It takes longer than usual, as she refuses to look anywhere other than his face as he’s speaking. Once that final button is undone, she slowly slides the fabric off of his arms and lets it fall to the floor. “If you don’t want to be a killer for hire anymore, that’s fine… You can find a new job. One that caters to the things you enjoy doing. Hey… Come here…” Standing on her toes, she forces him to bend so that she can place her lips to the area beneath his eye. There was a faint outline of a bruise forming where her fist earlier smashed into his face. Next, her lips would slowly trail kisses down to the spot on his throat where she also had issued a punch. “I have a pretty good idea of –who- you are, Sandman. And I’m here for you, in whatever field you try next. But… You don’t have to decide right now, or even tomorrow. Why don’t you take some time to have new experiences? Maybe you will enjoy making music and dancing. Or perhaps being an outdoorsman would appeal to you. Maybe you will open a shop, or a restaurant. Or maybe… You will just take odd jobs here and there. In the meantime, feel free to work at the guild and the sanctuary… I love having you nearby! I just don’t want you to stress. Some people spend their –entire- lives trying to figure out who they are, what they want to do, and who they are meant to be with… I only realized my future this past year. So if anything, you’re ahead of the game. But, I agree. No more murder for money.” Lana smiles at Eli, her expression one of pride, “Hey… Do you know how proud I am of you? You faced your demons today. You didn’t come undone at meeting your father, or having your memories restored. And you’re asking yourself all the right questions. It’s okay to be scared of your future, and to hate your past. You’re only a product of it, Sandman, not a prisoner.” The witch glances to the right, “I think our bath is filled. Do I have to toss you into the water, or will you willingly join me?”