The Artist's Apprentice

She didn’t look like a city girl. They had a certain look, a certain sophistication. Katarina had always struck Elijah as a little more rustic – a lamb-on-a-spit kind of girl as opposed to fine dining. Mira was a city girl and Athena was too but certainly suited the farm yard sort of life that she had cultivated for herself with her sons and Katarina’s sisters in the absence of her husband. Katarina, Elijah felt, probably would have loved the foraging about in the woods but Athena had confided in him well enough that Katarina wasn’t quite as comfortable around her sister-in-law as she would have liked. So for now, Elijah figured he’d fill that gap. Athena could keep the other girls occupied while Kendall and Augustus pursued their own methods of healing themselves.

She was quick to try and assure Elijah that she had been to the city but it made no difference to him. He hated Paris with as much fervour as he did London. He much preferred the sprawling countryside and loved to roam around it though there was a time when one should always touch home, back to the city. Elijah knew this. In Ireland, especially where the Rookwoods called home, there wasn’t much city. There were little towns and strongholds where dingy bars were abundant and dodgy highwaymen frolicked but there was no real city. Elijah adored the green pastures that his own estate boasted and Rookwood Manor had much of the same sprawling out around it in a fan. The children raised under the Rookwood roof were not city children but they weren’t rugged mountaineers either. They just were.

“Who cares for the sodding city, eh?” Elijah retorted with a smile as his dart connected with another balloon, sending a gush of purple paint across the canvas. “It’s full of rats. At least if you see a rat in the country, you’ll know a fox will ‘ave ‘im by nightfall.” Elijah threw another dart but missed and he tutted, unimpressed, before adding. “The seaside, eh? Well, we could make a quick trip to Marseille if you like – or stay there the whole time.” The trip was already coming together in Elijah’s mind but it was a while off yet, he knew. “Could stay in a little chateau outside the town and drive to the beach. That way, we won’t have to carry much of the beach malarkey. I think I still have a licence.” Elijah grinned wickedly before laughing. “Who knows? Would you like to make it a family affair? Might do everyone a bit of good to get away. Don’t have to though, mind.”

Kat picked up a dart and considered it for a moment, studying the shape and color, simply because that proved easier than meeting Elijah's eyes. That was something Katarina had never been very good at - maintaining eye contact. Especially with strangers the prolonged stares felt much too personal for her tastes and she found herself shrinking even further. As Elijah finished brainstorming his plans Kat tossed her dart, which found it's target and sent light blue splatters flying in every direction. The picture was looking quite filled out now, colors overlapping and dripping off the canvas from excess paint. She was pleased with the results so far.. it was simple but the enjoyment of making it was visible to her.

"Oh, surely you've been around long enough to know that family affairs never go terribly well with my family. I'm all for everyone being able to get away.. but from expirance the results are always quite explosive." It seemed to be a Rookwood talent, for whenever any sort of drama arose all of the long forgotten members of the family would come out of the woodwork, congregate into one place, and start shouting at one another. Family arguments were loud, long, and over seemingly small things. Katarina had witnessed her fair share and didn't care to dilute her memories of France with such things.

But Kat gave a small smile and sat down in a chair that had been provided. Suddenly she was feeling quite tired, probably due to having eaten nothing but a bowl of oatmeal and water in the last 24 hours. "But I can't complain of lack of excitement." she said softly, a joking tone in her voice. Not that Katarina ever joined in the arguments. While the rest of the family seemed to thrive in shouting at one another, Kat had the ability to disappear, unnoticed, whenever she sensed any sort of confrontation was about to occur. Fighting terrified Katarina. But that was simply because she never tried.

Elijah laughed aloud. Yes, he knew well enough what happened when the Rookwoods came together, forced to cooperate for an extended period of time. There was certainly a reason why they all lorded over separate parts of the house. Augustus had gotten the rough end of the stick but Cordelia – and now Athena – had done her best to make it nice and Elijah had put a lot of work into what was previously a disused conservatory and he’d done a little bit of the work in the hall such as replacing candles and the like but he hadn’t encroached too far. It was fair to say that the Rookwood family beneath Augustus’ name was in tatters and while Elijah knew it was not his place to observe such things, he could not help but want to aid them. He wanted to make things better and he’d thought perhaps a holiday would be a good thing. In hindsight, perhaps not.

Smiling, Elijah shrugged his shoulders, ever so slightly embarrassed. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt, eh? Maybe in mid-spring we could all go somewhere? Your family and mine. I’m sure as long as none of our respective families aren’t invited it’d be alright, hm? It’d probably do everyone good to get some sunshine. You first though, eh? Let’s put some colour back into your cheeks, kiddo. The winter takes a lot out of everyone but you’ve had it rougher than most.”

The final balloon popped beneath Elijah’s dart and he smiled before moving towards the easel. He took out the darts that had missed and embedded themselves into the canvas and he smiled at the piece, pleased with their work. “This is great.” Elijah told Katarina. “Wild, sort of messy art, is the best, I find.”

He decided to leave the easel and the paint to dry and he sat himself down on one of the wheel-clad stools. He kicked one towards Kat and wheeled himself over to the table with the fruit on it where he picked out a banana and began to peal it.

“Mmkay...” he said after a mouthful. “So, what do you want to work on specifically?”

"That would be nice."

Thinking of her family brought her eternally unpleasant mood back to the forefront of her mind. Picturing the clan on a nice, normal vacation would have been a pleasant picture to paint if it weren't for the person who would be clearly be missing. Katarina hadn't been away from the Rookwood home since she had learned of Cordelia's passing and any family gathering without her proved hard to picture. Cordelia had always held a presence (granted, one less noticeable than her fathers but one all the less) and Katarina could feel the change in atmosphere without her in the house. Whenever she lingered on it too much her thoughts became quite messy and unpleasant, especially to her own standards.

There was a gap in the Rookwood house - one Athena simply couldn't fill no matter how much she tried. The harder the Goyle girl worked on taking care of the children the more Katarina's quiet resentment began to grow. Poisonous thoughts of how she attempted to replace her mother grew and grew, angering her as Athena worked her way in to the Rookwood world. Katarina couldn't help but feel that Athena wasn't one of them and never could be. Marrying her brother was nothing more than a title.. she was, and would always be, a Goyle in Katarina's eyes.

Although her opinions and discontents were never expressed, Katarina sometimes wondered if she was too harsh on her new sister-in-law. Athena had never shown such hostilities towards her and it was unfair to think of her so. But with such grief surrounding the death of her mother, there was anger too. And it needed to be released. Athena Rookwood just happened to be the lucky winner to get most of it.

Katarina accepted the stool and slid it closer to the bowl of fruit that sat towards the center of the room. She had let her thoughts carry her too far again and an unpleasant feeling had settled itself in the bottom of her stomach. That indescribable feeling that you just feel a little.. wrong.. even if you can't pinpoint why. Kat examined the centerpiece and replied softly, "I'm not sure." This lesson had come on short notice, leaving Kat with little time to ponder what it would consist of and what she should ask. Admittedly, she was a bit embarrassed to have Elijah look at some of her work that she had completed, though this would be the most logical way for him to figure out what to help her with. Before now drawings had been a private thing for her and she had not completed them with the expectation of them being seen, making them feel much more personal than a painting that had been made for display.

Katarina grabbed a pencil and tapped it softly and rhythmically on the table, keeping her hands busy to distract her mind. She was feeling a bit jumpy and strange and wanted to head out on another walk before sitting down and drawing the piles of fruit, regardless that it was still pouring. Katarina stared out the window and watched the raindrops splatter the glass. She suddenly was desperate to ease her mind (by route of escape) but knew she just needed to ignore it and continue on. She couldn't act crazy.. He was here on request of Kendall. So Katarina began sketching the soft lines of a pear with the pencil, immediately feeling relief seep out of her, almost as if it flowed into the page with the graphite. "I think I'd like to work on my realism." she said quietly, almost apologetically, as if her boxy style of interpretation was something that she should be ashamed of. "If that's okay." She added, looking up to Elijah briefly.

There was little left of Augustus’ household that made Elijah proud to be an associate and a friend, even so much as a family member, of the Rookwoods. He loved his friends but he could not help but despair at them all. He wanted – just like all of them he supposed – to turn back the clock and save Cordelia. He’d loved that woman as a teenager and had done into adulthood and his happiness too had been tinged black with her loss. Yet he knew that he could progress and move on. He’d paid his respects and had lingered with the rest of her immediate family in the Rookwood mausoleum but after that he had not elected to visit her. None of them had, as far as he knew. They tried instead to deal with their grief in differing ways. Augustus’ was to drink, Kendall’s was to sleep and Katarina’s...well, she was angry. Elijah knew that from a mile off. What young girl wouldn’t be, at the loss of her mother?

The Bulgarian man had taken time to observe his best friend’s little sister and he could see the sadness in her eyes. Yet it felt as though she’d given it up and replaced it all with anger at the situation that had befallen her. They were all angry – great Circe, Augustus must have been livid and Kendall utterly betrayed – but they were learning, they were dealing with it. Elijah knew better than most about the loss of mother’s as he’d sustained his loss prematurely. He’d also had to deal with his father then going on to marry someone far more appropriate for Elijah to marry than him – and then, of course, proceed to drive as many children out of her as possible. It was no wonder why Irina was shot to bits, perpetually tired and yearning for someone to love her without the intention of using her body for heirs.

Elijah tapped an apple against the table idly, testing how ripe it was, before taking it and beginning to rub it against the silk button down shirt he’d donned with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Once the apple was sufficiently ripened he offered it to Katarina and broke off a piece of his banana to go with it. He smiled briefly before carefully beginning to broach the subject he had deduced no one else had dared to – not even Athena who probably hadn’t the time in her struggle to contain Kendall’s youngest sisters and her own children. Katarina had been left to survive on her own and it was remiss of all of them to allow it. Elijah wanted to check on her, wanted to befriend her, and knew that the only way to do it would be to begin and truly puncture the difficult subject that was Cordelia’s passing. There was no use doing anything with any of them until that was dealt with.

“I lost my mother.” He began, breaking off another piece of banana. He popped it into his mouth and chewed, swallowed, and waited for a moment before continuing. “About three years ago now. She was a wretch to me at times but I loved her – she was my mother, after all. I came here, all torn up and unsure, wild with grief, and it was your mother, actually, that found me by the fireplace. I remember...” Elijah’s lips twinged at the sides into a wry smile. “I remember she helped me up and asked me what I was doing and I told her I had no idea.” He laughed a little after that. “And she told me I was a fool and I hugged her and told her so was she; Merlin, did she laugh. She was pregnant with Cecilia at the time and she was hu-uge.” Elijah grinned. “You probably don’t remember, eh? She looked beautiful though. Motherhood did suit your mum. Though, granted she had a right hook on her. I told her exactly how massive she was; a slip of the tongue really, and she whacked me one. Right across my cheek”

Elijah gestured to his face before reaching to tap his fingers on the table, wondering how best to proceed. “And she took me in and kept me here over Christmas. You stayed away from me, I remember, because I was Kendall’s friend and therefore inherently terrifying.” Elijah reached forward and nudged Kat’s chin with his knuckles, trying to tease a smile out of her. “And your mum gave me these cufflinks with emeralds in silver and they were the most beautiful things I’d seen. Of course, your dad gave me a bottle of Absinthe because, hey, what else does the man drink?” Elijah chuckled. “But I think the best memory of your mum was when I came downstairs on Boxing Day and Kendall and I were going to go to Quidditch with Augustus and she was tugging on him like no tomorrow, trying to straighten out his robes. Little brat didn’t want to know of course. He thought it made him look rugged. I told him he looked like a twat, your mum agreed. But of course, a pout and a hug and it was all forgotten.”

Elijah smiled again. “What about you, come on? The best memory of your mum – what was it?”