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What a fickle thing they were most people didn’t put a lot of thought into just how much our emotions affect us on a day to day basis. Emotions could help us or hinder us and they could make a body feel physically well or unwell. This was especially true for Elysium Kenelm the blonde Empathic Nephilim emotions controlled everything in her life from a simple a handshake to a full-blown argument. Elysium had been doing her best over the years to learn how to control her abilities the older she got the stronger it became. Ely rarely liked skin to skin contact because of it, she had recently been wondering about getting in touch with a Diviner; she had heard of that they could spell items to do all sorts of things.
Elysium looked down at her rose gold apple watch swiping to check her messages before checking the time pushing back from her desk she stepped out from behind the hand-carved oak desk in her office. Slipping out of her sneakers and into her cowboy boots pulling her hair into a long ponytail that hung down to her shoulder blades. “Carlie I am going out for lunch, I might stop at the gallery, send all calls to my cell.” She called out to the receptionist before locking up the office door on her way out she waved to Carlie “You can then take the afternoon off. It is a beautiful afternoon not snowing”
Elysium headed out of the building pulling her jacket tight around her body it was a short walk from her office to the art Gallery. Once inside Ely shrugged herself out of her Jacket checking it into the coat check “Hello Maddison, good to see you again, How are the twins doing?” She asked leaning over the counter to look at the photos she produced. “Ohhh so sweet, what a proud mom you are! Anything new?” She asked about the art. Maddison nodded and pointed to the back left wall. “Perfect I shall check it out thank you, hun.” Ely beamed and walked off to look at the different artworks most she had memorized by now.
The art gallery was never overflowing with people so it was a place Ely enjoyed coming to, it helped her relax and get out of her own head for a while. Imagine what the Artist was feeling, and thinking about when they painted or sketched their masterpieces. The Nephilim was musically inclined but not all that artistic like the people who painted. Making her way around the gallery she stopped in the back left corner where new artwork had been hung. Ely smiled “Breathtaking.” She whispered to herself as she admired the work stepping up to the pamphlets she opened it up to read about the painting and the artist.
Moving to the next one by the same artist she repeated the process of reading the description of the artwork, unlike most artists in this place there wasn’t a photo displayed in the pamphlet. “I guess he or she wanted to remain anonymous.” Ely tucked the pamphlet into her back jeans pocket while she wrapped her arms around herself and just kept admiring the work trying to get a sense of what the artist was thinking.
There hasn’t been a day that he hasn’t wondered why he was brought back to life. What was his purpose thinking that he doesn’t deserve to be guardian anymore with how he failed to protect his first Wayfinder Emilia and his people back then. Thinking that would it happen all over again and he’ll fail Ophelia. The overpowering and dark thoughts he was still haunted with these days. Having struggled with it even before he died back then it wasn’t so bad, having Aurelia helping him through it as he was helping her through her struggles. No wonder they became close and friends so quickly, being similar to each other. Both struggling. Atticus still was finding it hard to wrap his head around everything even with how much time he’s had to take it all in. Only now finding it properly being a reality. With a few weeks back he had the person he least expected knocking at his door, his daughter all grown up. How taken back he was, thinking that Aurelia sent her away not expecting her to turn up at his door already knowing that he wasn’t dead. Trying to spend the past few weeks being a father wanting to make up for all he’s lost.
He was still feeling like there was a hole, part of him still missing. A mental block that was stopping from what he loves to do most, to paint. Not being able to find any inspiration for it. Every time he would try to pick up a sketch pad and draw or to pick up a paint brush, everything is just all black to him. Feeling that he’s lost his meaning to paint to be happy in a way. Whilst he knew something like this shouldn’t be happening, just all the pressure on his shoulders. Even more so now finding out he was a famous painter of sorts with all his pieces being worth a lot of money to what they once was when he first painted them many centuries. Many were hanging up in the art gallery that was filled up mostly of his or his daughters' Tatiana’s pieces. Atticus was happy that she favoured and inherited his artistry skills. Always feeling proud when he word look at her work, like any other father would. Yet with his lack of inspiration he felt that he was letting her down in a way. For what good of a father or painting was he? Something he often wondered. He was very good at self-doubting himself, even with Aurelia’s constant reassurance just to give it time that it all comes back to him. Now he was thinking how much longer it would be. Thinking if he was to look at some of his old works some inspiration would come back to him. To do it he had to go to the art gallery where most of his pieces were, that and he was half the shareholders of it.
Before leaving his apartment, he went to check on his daughter. Wondering if she was going to reach out to Aurelia today or not with how he knew she was still giving her the silent treatment. Atticus was hoping he wouldn’t see Aurelia at the gallery with how he hadn’t exactly told her that he was hiding their daughter out at his place and all, since he promised Tatiana that he would keep it a secret. Yet he knew when it all comes out he doesn't want to be anywhere near Aurelia when it happens. Preferring to stay out of it all when he knew he was a big part in it. Luckily for him he knew that Aurelia was busy most of the times either protecting her Ailward Aspect she was sworn to protect or with her boyfriend. Making it all easier for him to avoid her.
Just about he was about to head to the back staff areas of the gallery he noticed a mysterious blonde who caught his eye. Seeing that she was standing in front of one of his pieces, that she was staring at in a way. That she was trying to read in it’s soul. Normally he would simply walk away used to people standing there looking at his paintings with how they were all around the place. There was something intriguing about her, enough to make him stop. Wanting to go and see what she finds so intriguing about his painting, wanting to know what people like to think about it. Atticus always made sure to keep his identity a secret, having used an alias before. Making it easier not to be tracked down. Atticus decided to go over to the blonde, standing beside her. “You seem to be lost in the painting” He pointed out sofly with a chuckle seeing how memorised she was with his painting wanting to know if she was a fellow painter or another admirer not seeing her face in here before.
The longer she stood in front of the painting the more she got the sense the artist was alone, hurting, and as though he or she had been through a great deal in their life. It seemed like a sad painting though its beauty was beyond words, it had captured her and it seemed as though she wasn’t able to pull her gaze away. The woman paid no mind to the others in the gallery just sort of doing her own thing, which was common for her but an accented voice pulled her away from the painting to look for the source.
“How can you not get lost in them?” Offering a smile “this artist in particular.” Gesturing to a few of the paintings on the wall behind her. “This artist paints with such intense emotions you can almost feel them oozing out of the canvas.” Ely offered another smile.
“I am Elysium.” She held out her hand to the man. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Ely frequented the gallery but she would have taken notice of the handsome Russian man if he had been there before. Elysium was good with remembering faces it made it easier to connect with people if you remembered them and their life story. In her profession, it was a very handy skill to have.
After the pair shook hands she pulled her hand back and hugged her arms around herself again, she got the same sense that she had earlier while watching the painting. Maybe she had picked up on his emotions and not the painting at all. Turning back to the painting she tried to decipher in her head which one stirred the emotions, the man or the painting.
The Nephilim might just have needed a break the workdays seemed to be getting longer and longer with receiving calls at him on her cell, the increase in patients needing to see her after an encounter that was unexplainable. She was at a total loss as to why this was happening she did know that she wanted to try and put a stop to it if possible. She wanted to help people not see them continue to suffer, it was all she ever wanted to do with her life.
Atticus never did think that his paintings would one day become famous to be worth quite a lot of money to what he used to sell it for back in the day. Seeing how far paintings have come. Not thinking that he’ll have his paintings up in up in an art gallery, in the past thinking that up on a wall at home was enough. Now today they were all up in a gallery for everyone to see that others come to see his pieces and his daughters too. That people share the same passion, seeing too how people come to the gallery looking for inspiration. The same reason why he’s here looking for inspiration by looking at some of his own art. Atticus was used to people looking at his art but he could see how drawn in the blonde was, staring at his work. Seeing how she was trying to see behind it all. Curiosity was getting the better of him wanting to see what she thought was so special. Choosing to stand beside her, looking at his painting on the wall that was in front of them. A smile appeared on his lips hearing how she was speaking about the painter. Knowing how she wouldn’t be thinking that the artist was right beside her. “Is that so” Atticus chuckled softly. “What do you suppose his story is?” He wondered looking over to see what she thinks. Back when he started to paint it was his way of escaping all the darkness finding the light after finding Aurelia. Curious to see if she was trying to figure out the story behind the painting.
“Atticus” Smiling softly shaking her hand in return. “Oh I’ve been here quite often, I guess we just miss each other” He went on saying how he does try to come to the gallery often. Maybe lately staying more of the behind the scenes areas. Thinking too why he hadn’t noticed Elysium before too. “Do you paint?” Curious to see if she was a fellow painter or if she was like both Aurelia and Cecilia who prefered to take photos instead of painting. “What's your favourite pieces here or are you stuck on this one?” In a room full of different pieces and she chose the one he had done during one of his darkest times. Finding he was able to keep his emotions underwraps by letting it all out on paper rather than into the real world. Feeling it was better that way. “There’s other pieces by the same artist dotted around here you just have to look out for where they are” To how he prefered to stay anonymous not putting a name to his paintings. How it was working in his favour now knowing Elysium wouldn’t be able to put two and two together.
“His Story, I hmmm..” She turned back to the artwork again tilting her head as she examined the painting a bit more. “Well, I get the sense he feels as though he is stuck in an endless cycle of loneliness.” She pointed to the section of the painting she thought portrayed that. “I think he has been through a lot of pain in his lifetime, he seems sad. But I get the sense he has some hope for things to get better, with the waterfall. I guess to me a waterfall means life renewal.” She smiled and turned to the man beside her. “All in all I feel like there is hope and happiness awaiting this wounded Artist.”
After shaking hands she nodded “It is nice to meet you Atticus, that is a lovely unique name if I may say so.” Ely couldn’t help but laugh when he asked if she painted herself, “No no, me and a paintbrush equals a great disaster, I do however enjoy the musical arts.” Elysium found the arts to be very helpful along side her career, they helped herself and patients to express themselves in ways that simple talk therapy ever could.
“Honestly, I feel like this one here is just sucking me in and I truly can not even explain why, it just does.” Rubbing her arm with her hand. Her face perked up a bit at the mention of other pieces by the same artist “Oh really? I will have to hunt them down for sure see if I can pick up on them, Hopefully he has sparks of light and hope in some.” Ely didn’t know what it was about the Painting or the man she was talking to, but her curiosity was piqued.
“Or would you care to show me a few?” She asked pushing a few strands back out of her face.