Jules Restlin's Story

The wizard continued to do his work as best as he could while the other young man dilly dallied with the material goods he required to help the poor blood spattered girl with the overly sized kitchen knives. With a sigh and a quick glance Bigsby turned his gaze over to his staff and muttered a few strange words only to create an invisible floating disk that scooped up his bag and brought it over towards him as he quickly worked. The woman coughed up a little blood and it splattered on the wizards robes but Bigsby did not care. "Lazy louts always taking their time on getting the job done. Girl cover your mouth when you are coughing up gobbledygook like that. You could shoot somebodies eye out." The wizard continued to mumble a bit as he reached for his scrolls and then took the boiling water only to dip them in allowing the kettle to shiver as the ink from the pages began to run out from the vellum and turn the water into a deep blue ocean of mystery.

"Now I know that you seem to be deaf to the world around you but I am sure that you can forgive me later as this will sting a little. I never had a knack for dealing with divine scrolls anyway." Those were the last words that the wizard would ever speak as he reached into the boiling water with his bare hand and cupped up a bit of the broth just to force the liquid down her throat allowing the words of some divine saint to rush down deep into her stomach allowing the rather quick yet somewhat shocking healing process take affect. Of course once she was all healed up she would need to visit an actual doctor or something for the trauma she might have been apart of but Bigsby never claimed to be a nice wizard or a healer. It was then that the old man stood up and brought the words of another spell to the fold that he would cast prestidigitation on the girl removing all of the blood that soiled her outfit so that he could get a better look at her.

"Now the best part of this is that the blood will return so I suggest while you have a few months of normalcy you get those clothes washed."

Whilst waiting for Adiana to respond to her, Gabrielle watched the others assisting a woman that was covered in blood. Her nose wrinkled up at the sight of not just the woman’s bloody state, but the crimson footprints that were on her pristine floor. Shifting her gaze towards one of her workers, she nodded towards him to clean up the mess. He nodded and went to work and she returned her attention towards the scene at hand. Luckily, things seemed to be under control and to keep herself from getting sick, she moved her attention elsewhere. So far things seemed to be going a lot smoother than before, which was a huge blessing. Saying a silent thanks to whoever was listening, Gabby sipped more of her soda.

The door of the bar opened again and she immediately shifted her purple hues towards the figure walking in. He seemed harmless enough and had something tucked under his arms. Was he another lawyer? She certainly hoped not. When she shifted her gaze towards his head, she realized that he wasn’t and relaxed quite a bit. Crossing one long leg over the other while shifting her weight on the barstool to get a little more comfortable, Gabby watched him walking over to here.

"'scuse me Miss, do you think there might be somewhere I could put one of these up?"

Peering at the piece of paper he wanted to hang up, she studied it for a moment or two before sighing. Good thing she kept the huge corkboard instead of chunking it. She nearly forgot that people were always coming in and wanting to hang up this or that. Self-help group? Well that might be quite helpful.

“Sure, that’s fine with me. There’s a corkboard over there.” Pointing with one of her slender digits, she smiled softly towards him, parts of her brunette strands slinking over her shoulders. Meanwhile, a bartender was moving towards the newest arrival in order to help him and also point him towards an open table near the back, it hidden by a group of drinkers.

Vallen ordered a beer and thanked the bartender for the help and started to walk back to the table. As he went he tip toed around the puddles of blood and soon arrived at the table he placed his pack on the table and sat down before taking a long swig of the frosty beverage. he enjoyed the beer and looked out into the bar examining all the partisans hoping by some chance they could cause his memory to flash but nothing came and so he continued his drinking. He looked around and locked eyes with a old looking wizard helping the bloody girl up. He nodded and smiled.

Winter didn't respond, even her head was easy to tilt back. Subconscious motor function allowed her to swallow the concoction. Who was there? what was happening? She couldn't tell as the entire bar started to grow dark as the liquid was poured down her throat.

Then she gasped as the divine liquid healed her. All of the pain of her body seemed to come back in an instant as the bar came back to life in her eyes. She screamed in pain and shock as she hunched over and gripped her stomach. She began to shake but quickly composed herself, her face relaxed into a completely stoic expression but she continued to breath heavily through her nose as she looked up at the Wizard. The light that was once vacant in her crimson eyes suddenly blazing like a fire.

The clatter and dull roar of the patrons speaking faded into her hearing. Did this man just heal her? But why? She was a stranger to him, surely she didn't look like someone who was easily approachable, let alone for someone to be concerned for her safety. She was a monster, but there was no way he could know her past. Then her eyes went wide as a thought exploded in her mind, her memories were fragmented. She couldn't remember anything about where she had come from or what she was doing to leave her in such a state.

"Th-Thank you" She said in a quiet voice before standing up and picking up her swords, only to begin walking from the bar.

Vallen looked over to the girl now standing and his mind drew shard of recollection from the grey depths. He got up and walked over to the woman in white with small blotches of blood still staining her clothes.
"Excuse me miss but do I know you?"

Nodding with a small smile of appreciation, the young man walked over to the pristine cork board and pinned up one of the papers he carried under his arm. Once he was finished, he stood back with a small grin as if to appreciate his handiwork, and promptly trotted out of the bar. The flyer in question read thusly:

DREAMERS WANTED

Wing City, let alone our Multiverse, is a dangerous place. Between intergalactic empires to vampire enclaves, it is too easy for the common citizen to fall prey to larger machinations. But it does not need to be this way.

Those who consider themselves helpless, and at a loss for initiative in the terrifying reality we find ourselves in can now find solace and strength within the beliefs of THE DREAMER.

THE DREAMER is not a person, but a belief and a code. A way to live your life without fear and having the power to defend your right to happiness and well being. If YOU feel as though events are out of your control, or if YOU feel as though that something should be done about any given number of terrifying problems, THE DREAMER wants to help.

Classes in how to put power back in the hands of yourself and others who have been unrecognized will be held at DREAMER STUDIOS, on the corner of HAGAN and MAIN every evening from 7-10 pm. Refreshments will be provided, but you are expected to be responsible for your own travel arrangements.

NO WEAPONS

NO METAS

Contact Jules Restlin at *26-874-3339 UNI for details and information.

In the waning light of the afternoon, Jules sat at his improvised desk in front of the large plate-glass window of his boutique on the corner of Sol and Lady Une. The sign outside read "Dreamer Studios" in a big, bold, friendly font. In the window there was a sign that read thusly:

Classes on Empowerment held nightly from 7:30 PM - 12:00 AM Monday-Friday

$10.00 Adult
$8.00 Senior

Applicants are responsible for bringing their own pillows. Food will be provided

No Children. No Weapons. NO METAS.

Jules, currently wearing a simple black sweater and blue cargo pants tapped away at his computer. For all sakes and purposes he appeared completely normal. Slightly blemished, olive skin, watery brown eyes and long eyelashes adorned his two eyes, and wavy soft hair bounced gently on his head as he took a sip from a bottle of iced tea. The inside of the studio was mostly concealed behind a Japanese style paper wall, but the front had a small flowing plant and a few foldable chairs for people to sit in. The lights were currently off, throwing everything within into sharp contrast.

Ilyana sat in the Bentley, staring out the window at the storefront, her fingers steepled thoughtfully. She wanted to doubt the address, and would have if she hadn't gotten the information from Nealaphh himself. Her eyes narrowed at the sign. "Dreamer Studios." It was outright mockery.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was silently standing behind a man seated at his computer, working away. She took everything in, the surroundings, the plant, the iced tea, a small speck of lint on the left shoulder blade of the black sweater. Without making a sound, Ilyana held her hand out, palm up and mouthed something. Instantly, her camera filled her once empty hand. Without even looking into the view finder, Ilyana clicked the shutter release button.

The sound of the camera taking a picture would be loud, amplified slightly. Only after getting his attention would she speak:

"Is ten dollar for empowerment, yes?" Her voice was cold, commanding. A ten dollar bill would appear between her fingers and she would pretend to study it.

Jules visibly flinched when Ilyana hit the shutter on her camera, the amplified click causing his shoulders to bunch up as he whipped around. His eyes widened ever so slightly when he turned to regard Ilyana, but his mouth did nothing but purse ever so slightly. As he looked upon her, his favored chew toy, there came a surge of desired responses. Violence, naturally, came first, but it was also tempting to resort to mockery, dismissal, and perhaps even curiosity.

Then again, Jules hadn't become any stupider for having abandoned the power Nyarlathotep granted. It was obvious that Ilyana had gained some measure of supernatural ability, but how and from whom was a mystery. Well, not a complete mystery; he had a pretty good hunch. As the moment lingered ever longer, Jules finally settled on what he felt would best help him answer his questions. Feigned fear.

"Il...what..." he whispered, staying frozen in his seat. He allowed his heart rate to quicken, his breath to become shallow. But no, let's not get too out of character. Just as he had feigned fear, he also articulate a false recovery from it. But believed that he had shown just enough to be able to put the damnable woman into a false sense of security. Pretending to steel himself, he stood up and backed away from her, widening his stance ever so slightly.

"If you came looking for revenge, you're welcome to try." he said in a goading tone, crossing his arms. Deep down though, he was conflicted. Despite the utter despair and cruelty he had dispensed on this woman, she was still, through some perverse convolution of the heart, the closest thing he had to a friend...

Ilyana had watched many faces as they registered varying levels of fear. She knew the subtle distinction between surprise and someone who was simply startled. She knew terror and resignation. If there was one thing Ilyana Maric knew, it was faces. Emotions. How every emotion tugged at its own musculature, not just in the face, but throughout the body as well. As such, Ilyana was focused intently on Jules' reaction, eyes narrowed, head tilted to the side.

For a moment, Ilyana nearly grinned at the idea that he was afraid of her. It was an interesting concept, and perhaps one she might be interested in making a reality, but Ilyana knew faces well enough to spot a fake emotion, especially one as basic as fear.

She tilted her head to the other side in a movement reminiscent of a reptile whose rapt attention was on an insect. She blinked. In an instant, she was behind him once more, her hand empty of the camera. Trailing a finger slowly and gently over the back of his neck, she leaned in to whisper: "Why would want revenge, Jules?"

In another instant, she was in front of him once more, the camera replaced in her hand, just as she had been. Had she ever moved in the first place? She held the ten dollar bill toward him. "Empowerment," she said, raising her eyebrow. "Your sign says I can find here. Is ten dollar."

Jules scowled furiously as she ran her finger down his neck. Perhaps back when he was more flamboyant he would have flown into a rage at the audacity of her making physical contact with him of all people. But the situation had changed. Still, there was definitely something new in Ilyana. It was dangerous. A new darkness, different from the one she had harbored before. Instead of a dark, oppressive gloom in her heart there now was a sort of restrained storm cloud. Jules knew the feeling well.

He cocked an eyebrow as she reiterated her offer. If they were going to play games, Jules would be damn sure they weren't going to play hers.

"Sign also says no metas, Ilyana. So I'm afraid I have nothing to offer you." Jules said. And there it was once again, that look from him. The downturned face with the toothy grin and piercing eyes. He chuckled slightly in spite of himself. To hell with the act, he wouldn't pretend to cow to her.

"And about that...I sense a new drive in you. You're not that simpering bitch who I could never quite completely break anymore. No...now you're just a tool of anger and bitterness. Which is much less interesting, because I already know all about that..." Jules said, pressing a palm to his chest. He took a single step towards her.

"But despite whatever ultimate power you may now possess, I'm sorry to say Ilyana, you're still a step behind..." Jules sneered, tilting his head. He wouldn't explain anything else until she asked.

Ilyana's lips turned into a wry smile as she shook her head. "You misunderstand me," she chuckled. Placing the ten dollar bill on the desk, she smoothed it with her hands. "You always misunderstood me."

Leaving the bill on the surface, she lifted the camera once more, glancing down at the view finder as she centered him in the lens. "I am not seeking empowerment."

Click.

"I am paying a debt."

Her fingers twisted the lens with a practiced movement as she brought different things into focus.

Click.

She stopped messing with the camera to look up at him. "Why do you hate me so much? Because I wouldn't break? Because no matter what you did to me, I kept coming back?" She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "Because I called you a friend?"

At that word, the shutter would click again.

"You misunderstand me once more, Jules. You have shown me the path to empowerment. I've already obtained it. I'm here to settle my bill." Her lips pursed and she blew gently. The ten rose from the desk and floated toward Jules.

"Maybe I'd be less prone to misunderstanding you if you'd bother to learn solid English." Jules snapped as he slapped the animated bill away from him. A sucker punch, yes, but much like boxing one had to keep their conversational jabs coming to throw the opponent off balance. His left eye scrunched up unconsciously as visible manifestation of his confusion. He wasn't exactly sure what Ilyana was gunning for, here, but he couldn't help that he was still losing ground here. Time to reclaim ownership of the situation.

"Actually..." he said, his tone suddenly softening and becoming a chilly sort of polite, "...it's nearly time for class to start. Why don't you stay a while? I'm sure you'll enjoy it." he said, stooping over and plucking the bill from the floor. With a light expression on his face, he strode over to the till by his computer and deftly inserted the bill into the metal box.

"Oh, and for the record..." he said, facing away from Ilyana, "...I'd like to be your friend, if it's at all possible at this point."

A gambit, but either way Ilyana reacted it would give Jules some insight into what she was after. Also...on some deep, starved level of his soul, it was sincere. A fact which made him flinch ever so slightly.

"My English has improved greatly since I met you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You make excuses. Is simple matter of you not listen. You never care to. You hear what you want to hear, you see what you want to see, and you react how you want to react." She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. The corner of her mouth turned up in a small grin as she thought. "Your buttons are so clearly visible, Jules. Should I wish, I could push them..." The words themselves were a slight goad, but she waved a dismissive hand.

"You have your class. I do not need any empowering. I have been given everything I need." With a wave of her hand, the camera disappeared. She moved to step around him, her steps taking her closer to the door.

"You have always been my friend, Jules." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "I have always dreamed of you."

"Whatever." Jules said, his eyes rolling quite prominently. Needless to say, of all the responses he could have predicted he did not anticipate this one. Which was unfortunate, since it hadn't told him anything. Jules reeled to admit it, but he couldn't underestimate Ilyana anymore. If there was one lasting thing he had managed to do to her mind, it was completely obliterate her naivete.

"But see here's the thing Ilyana. You haven't been given everything you need." Jules said, pacing to follow her, though at a distance. "You came here for a reason, and I'm damn sure it wasn't so that you could feign gratitude about everything I've done to you." Jules said, his tone suddenly becoming sharp again. Anger. This was Jules' comfort zone and he knew it.

"You don't have your answers." Jules said, his voice dipping deeply into a highly punchable tone. A smarmy, taunting lilt that just dared Ilyana to retaliate. He let the moment pass, holding a grim smile as she stood there in the doorway.

"Anyway...I guess I'll see you later. And funny you should mention dreaming. There's going to be a lot of that going on around here soon."

Ilyana stopped, turning to face Jules. He was angry. This was good. This was a state with which she was familiar. Just like that, she'd been able to force him back into his comfort zone... because he was uncomfortable. It was like a child returning to a familiar blanket because they didn't know how to handle a situation. She'd thrown him. That knowledge made her smile internally. Externally, her expression was stoic.

"Tsk tsk tsk, Jules," she said quietly, shaking her head from side to side slowly. "After all this time, you really don't know me, do you? You say I came here for a reason... that I didn't come here for the reasons I've explained." She stepped toward him, moving to within inches of his body. "I already have all answers I need." She whispered the words, a taunting smile on her lips.

As Ilyana drew closer, Jules's eyes lit up, quite literally. His sclera turned a dark black and his irises ignited to emit an all-too-familiar acid green glow. With a low boom, the air around them seemed to expand and then contract, a small distortion of space that would serve to knock Ilyana back a few feet.

A moment passed before his stance relaxed and his eyes returned to normal.

"Don't get cocky, tool. Whatever you think you can do now, I've still been in this game far longer than you." Jules hissed, his hands twitching at his side. He considered starting a fight, but really it wasn't the smart move. His entire operation hinged on the fact that his customers thought that he was a completely normal human. Case in point; as they stood there, silently facing off, there came a small voice from behind Ilyana.

"Uhm...excuse me...Jules?" said the voice of a young woman. Maybe about thirty odd years old, dusty blonde hair drawn up into a pony tail. She wore a cushy pink coat with a fake fur lining, and under her arm was slung a small, bulging backpack. Jules' eyes scrunched up and hardened as he shot a look at Ilyana before taking a breath and melting into a warm, amiable facade.

"Julieeee, Hiiiii." he said, walking up to take her bag and coat. His voice seemed so generally honey-drenched that to anyone who actually knew him might feel nauseous.

"You're early tonight. Tennis practice let out early?" he said, sliding open the partition and ushering her into the room beyond, looking back at Ilyana with a hateful snarl...

Ilyana normally would have steeled herself at any change in Jules. After all, she'd goaded him past the point of anger on many occasions. She knew what to look out for. It actually surprised her that he hadn't made a move to harm her in any way since she'd been here. Could it be possible that he was actually afraid of her?

Granted, he should be... but that was beside the point. She'd done nothing overtly threatening toward him...

And then it dawned on her... He was expecting her to act like him. And she wasn't following the path he expected her to take.

She was throwing him off of his game. She was keeping him on his toes. She was thwarting his plans. And she was loving this.

So as the air pulsed against her, she allowed it to maneuver her back the few feet though she easily could have ignored it. Despite the change in her position, she held his eye contact. "I scare you," she said quietly, the corners of her lips turning up.

At the interruption, she smiled at the stranger. "I was just..." she started to explain, gesturing to the door, but then stopped herself at Jules' reaction to the newcomer. Her eyes grew wide and she blinked at him. Oh really? She almost lost control of the chuckle that rose in her throat, but held it back just in time. Oh, this was just too good. Her eyebrow lifted and she grinned at Jules' hateful snarl as he led the woman from the room. "On second thought," she laughed. "I think I will take you up on your offer. Maybe I should stick around for a bit." She gestured to the room around herself. "Observe."

Jules' eyes narrowed Ilyana. No. He wasn't scared of her. But he did know a threat when he saw one. There was no need to humor her on this fact though. Let her have her little power trip. Right now, with these other people around, she was in his game no matter what she tried to do. So he would just have to play it like the chessmaster he was.

"Hey, you payed for it." he said, finally giving her a dismissive shrug. As the world grew darker, about seven more people showed up, all carrying various bags of some sort. After about an hour there was a small collection of people, all mingling. Jules took the liberty of talking freely amongst his students, laughing and seeming to genuinely empathize with them. The truth was that, despite the ultimate goal of his plan, having to interact with people on a personal level was bringing humanity back in to Jules. He couldn't lose sight of the ultimate goal however. Ilyana's lingering presence in the main studio was a solid enough reminder of this.

At about 8:00, everyone was allowed to help themselves to a small spread that Jules himself had prepared with his own hands. It was simple food, but cooked well and hearty enough to keep everyone in good spirits. If Ilyana were to speak with anyone, she would find herself questioned on her favorite dreams, fantasies or even nightmares. Once the dinner was complete, then the session proper began.

It started with several bedrolls all spread out within the studio, with dim light and a warm vaporizer humming in the background. The bedrolls were arranged in a circle, with everyone's head facing inwards towards the circle. At the center, Jules crouched down and lit a funny smelling incense. Smokey, with what almost smelled like a hint of burnt plastic and mint.

"Alright...now..." Jules said, his voice soft but commanding, "...everyone synchronize your breath on mine. Ready...one...two..." Jules said, inhaling audibly through puckered lips, holding the breath, and letting it go slowly. Everyone else in the circle followed suit, eyes closed, matching his breaths.

As the participants began to trickle in, Ilyana tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Feigning shyness, she would politely dismiss those who tried to talk with her by providing one word answers, emphasizing the thickness of her accent. While a few had actually tried pretty hard to coax her into conversation, Ilyana won out in the end with a classic apologetic look and shrug, a maneuver most immigrants had learned early on.

Even when others were eating, Ilyana hung back on the periphery, simply observing Jules, amusement playing across her lips. She knew it was an act. Insincerity was written plainly across his face, even if it was at a level only she would notice.

As the class laid down, Ilyana chose to remain standing on the edge of the room, her back against the wall, her hands buried in her pockets. She noticed the bedroll Jules laid out for her, and lifted an eyebrow at him. She watched the group as they blindly followed his instructions, and she narrowed her eyes in curiosity. She wondered at the people lying in a circle around him, but said nothing. Realizing that her breathing had synchronized itself with the group's without her realization, she stopped breathing altogether. She didn't need to breathe. It was just something she did because it was familiar. Her eyes never left Jules, even when she lifted a hand to block the scent of the incense from her nostrils, her nose wrinkling in distaste.