Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby
Posted: October 23rd, 2022, 2:14 pm
It’s Something You Can’t Know
The last several days had gone by in a blur. The preparations for the art show had kept her busy, spending most of the last three evenings with Atticus staging and hanging all of the art. She had been worried few people would be interested, but at the end of it they had more creations than they really knew what to do with.
Quincy had attended the show, along with Drusilla, Constantine, Kyber and dozens others. She had worried it would be awkward, but her interactions with Quincy had felt effortless. Perhaps it was the environment, being surrounded by fine art made for easy conversation.
During the evening Quincy had made time to pull Drusilla aside. Hollis knew he was thanking her for dressing her wound after the attack and looking after her. Despite the conflict between the trio in the past, Hollis felt no concern in their interaction now. She had noticed however that their conversation had taken place in close proximity to her instead of in the basement. It couldn’t be known if this was intentional or not, but Hollis felt it was a nice gesture.
The evening finished with an interpretive live show by Mote. There was no knowing what the small red-head might do, but Hollis was excited to find out. Mote wore skin tight red leathers and constructed the most chaotic impromptu show Hollis had ever seen. It was a true masterpiece.
Hollis had been thankful for the distraction the show brought, but now that it was over she once again had to face herself. The last several days she had been out of sorts. She found herself uncharacteristically easily agitated, paranoid and hyper vigilant in places she used to feel safe. Hollis didn’t recognize herself and even her reflection in the mirror showed a stranger, someone with dark circles under their eyes and gaunt hollow cheeks.
These things had been easier to ignore when she was busy with the show, she could very easily blame her poor sleep schedule on being busy and her lack of appetite on nerves. With those excuses gone and these symptoms remaining she needed to face reality; she wasn’t doing well and if she didn’t get it together others would start to notice.
Hollis was actually a little surprised no one had said anything to her as of yet, what with her behavior in public even lacking. While taking care of Constantine several days before Mote had noticed a bruise and puncture mark on his arm. Knowing that he had been with Lucien the evening before, Hollis was convinced the silver haired man had drugged him.
The next time Hollis encountered Lucien all she saw was red. The very public location, the other people standing around and her language had been of no consequence. It wasn’t until after she had spit her venom at the sailor did she recognize the half dozen other people gathered. Lucien had tried to go and speak with Constantine, but Hollis had blocked his entry to the apartment.
Thinking back on the moment felt like standing outside of herself and watching someone else who had control of her body. Who was she these days? When had she turned into the person to so publicly make a scene such as that? She probably should talk to someone, to a doctor or a priest, but she wasn’t ready to make her problems someone else’s.
She couldn’t sleep for the following two evenings and spent those hours painting a scene of Greatport instead. The incident with Lucien played over and over again in her mind along with the tense disapproval from Constantine upon learning about her actions. There was enough shame and guilt inside of her for putting the Western man at risk, but his disapproval somehow cut deeper than gouges on either of them.
Hollis had been trying to make things right since her outburst and had gone out of her way to apologize to Lucien. It hadn’t been a comfortable conversation, something made more awkward by the location. She had followed him from the Meddler’s Risk when he walked in, saw her and turned around. Lucien made his way into Old Town and down the steps into the bathhouse.
By the time Hollis caught up with him, he was half naked and preparing to enter the large heated bath. Lucien had continued the conversation naked while bathing and Hollis had found great interest in the ceiling. When he was dressed and drying she presented him with the small painting of Greatport she had made over the last few days.
Hollis didn’t actually know if the man was from Greatport or not, but judging by his tattoos, accent and general demeanor she took an educated guess. Lucien had been quite taken with it, his expression while looking upon the artwork appeared as if it evoked many memories.
She was glad to be putting this chapter of her life aside, but even after making amends with those she had lashed out at, her reflection still showed a stranger. She had considered starting to take the sedative that Quincy had obtained for her from Doctor Sindelar, though she was concerned about being locked inside one of her dreams.
No, she didn’t need more sleep, more opportunities for the afflicted to haunt her. What she needed was a new project. Hollis haphazardly cleared the table in her cottage and took out several pieces of paper. She began sketching a floor plan featuring internal and external features of a large building consisting of three rooms. For some time now she had grown frustrated with having to walk back and forth to the craft hall dragging materials along with her.
What she needed was a workshop, a place where she could work at all hours of the night uninterrupted. Hollis spent the rest of the night drawing up these plans with obsessive detail. When the sun rose she’d seek out an architect and plot out a piece of land. She didn’t need a sedative, she didn’t need to rest, what she needed was to keep moving for fear of what standing still might bring.
The last several days had gone by in a blur. The preparations for the art show had kept her busy, spending most of the last three evenings with Atticus staging and hanging all of the art. She had been worried few people would be interested, but at the end of it they had more creations than they really knew what to do with.
Quincy had attended the show, along with Drusilla, Constantine, Kyber and dozens others. She had worried it would be awkward, but her interactions with Quincy had felt effortless. Perhaps it was the environment, being surrounded by fine art made for easy conversation.
During the evening Quincy had made time to pull Drusilla aside. Hollis knew he was thanking her for dressing her wound after the attack and looking after her. Despite the conflict between the trio in the past, Hollis felt no concern in their interaction now. She had noticed however that their conversation had taken place in close proximity to her instead of in the basement. It couldn’t be known if this was intentional or not, but Hollis felt it was a nice gesture.
The evening finished with an interpretive live show by Mote. There was no knowing what the small red-head might do, but Hollis was excited to find out. Mote wore skin tight red leathers and constructed the most chaotic impromptu show Hollis had ever seen. It was a true masterpiece.
Hollis had been thankful for the distraction the show brought, but now that it was over she once again had to face herself. The last several days she had been out of sorts. She found herself uncharacteristically easily agitated, paranoid and hyper vigilant in places she used to feel safe. Hollis didn’t recognize herself and even her reflection in the mirror showed a stranger, someone with dark circles under their eyes and gaunt hollow cheeks.
These things had been easier to ignore when she was busy with the show, she could very easily blame her poor sleep schedule on being busy and her lack of appetite on nerves. With those excuses gone and these symptoms remaining she needed to face reality; she wasn’t doing well and if she didn’t get it together others would start to notice.
Hollis was actually a little surprised no one had said anything to her as of yet, what with her behavior in public even lacking. While taking care of Constantine several days before Mote had noticed a bruise and puncture mark on his arm. Knowing that he had been with Lucien the evening before, Hollis was convinced the silver haired man had drugged him.
The next time Hollis encountered Lucien all she saw was red. The very public location, the other people standing around and her language had been of no consequence. It wasn’t until after she had spit her venom at the sailor did she recognize the half dozen other people gathered. Lucien had tried to go and speak with Constantine, but Hollis had blocked his entry to the apartment.
Thinking back on the moment felt like standing outside of herself and watching someone else who had control of her body. Who was she these days? When had she turned into the person to so publicly make a scene such as that? She probably should talk to someone, to a doctor or a priest, but she wasn’t ready to make her problems someone else’s.
She couldn’t sleep for the following two evenings and spent those hours painting a scene of Greatport instead. The incident with Lucien played over and over again in her mind along with the tense disapproval from Constantine upon learning about her actions. There was enough shame and guilt inside of her for putting the Western man at risk, but his disapproval somehow cut deeper than gouges on either of them.
Hollis had been trying to make things right since her outburst and had gone out of her way to apologize to Lucien. It hadn’t been a comfortable conversation, something made more awkward by the location. She had followed him from the Meddler’s Risk when he walked in, saw her and turned around. Lucien made his way into Old Town and down the steps into the bathhouse.
By the time Hollis caught up with him, he was half naked and preparing to enter the large heated bath. Lucien had continued the conversation naked while bathing and Hollis had found great interest in the ceiling. When he was dressed and drying she presented him with the small painting of Greatport she had made over the last few days.
Hollis didn’t actually know if the man was from Greatport or not, but judging by his tattoos, accent and general demeanor she took an educated guess. Lucien had been quite taken with it, his expression while looking upon the artwork appeared as if it evoked many memories.
She was glad to be putting this chapter of her life aside, but even after making amends with those she had lashed out at, her reflection still showed a stranger. She had considered starting to take the sedative that Quincy had obtained for her from Doctor Sindelar, though she was concerned about being locked inside one of her dreams.
No, she didn’t need more sleep, more opportunities for the afflicted to haunt her. What she needed was a new project. Hollis haphazardly cleared the table in her cottage and took out several pieces of paper. She began sketching a floor plan featuring internal and external features of a large building consisting of three rooms. For some time now she had grown frustrated with having to walk back and forth to the craft hall dragging materials along with her.
What she needed was a workshop, a place where she could work at all hours of the night uninterrupted. Hollis spent the rest of the night drawing up these plans with obsessive detail. When the sun rose she’d seek out an architect and plot out a piece of land. She didn’t need a sedative, she didn’t need to rest, what she needed was to keep moving for fear of what standing still might bring.