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The Hawthorne Case, part one

Hey there, important disclaimer before we begin! This is a little Trial of the Mages side story from written in the narrative style of Disco Elysium. In the game, you have 24 skills that regularly chime in with more or less helpful advice. Here are the personalized ones for Taiven, with the original in parentheses. Don't hesitate to come back to it!

Ian and Toshiki belong to @corneille-but-not-the-author

Content warning for themes of domestic abuse and a bunch of crude intrusive thoughts

Taiven Markhov - Skill index

Intellect

SMARTASS (Logic) : Use articulated knowledge and reasoning to understand the world.

HYPERMNESIA (Replacing Encyclopedia) : Remember everything. Every detail. No matter how unimportant.

RHETORIC (Rhetoric) : Wield your words with care. Persuade. Convince. Stand your political ground.

THEATRICS (Drama) : The world's a stage. See through their lies. Make yours impossible to detect. A little exaggeration never hurt anyone.

SCATTERBRAIN (Replacing Conceptualisation) : Marvel at everything. Look at the world anew. Let your imagination wander.

FOCUS (Replacing Visual Calculus) : Isolate yourself within your mind. Look at the details. Don't miss anything.

Psyche

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT (Volition) : Keep yourself motivated. Get it moving. Don't stop hoping.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR (Inland Empire) : Trust your gut feelings. See images long gone. Remember to forget.

BLEEDING HEART (Empathy) : Feel for others. Understand their thoughts. Show kindness.

ASSERTION (Authority) : Demand respect. Don't let them talk back. Use what motherhood taught you.

PARTI DU PEUPLE (Esprit de Corps) : Master the Party's inner workings. Understand the political landscape.

SHADOWSELF (Suggestion) : You know you have charms. Crack their shells. No matter how wrong it feels.

Physique

THICKSKIN (Endurance) : You can take it. Stand firm. Brush off the pain.

NERVES (Replacing Pain Threshold) : Be alert. Trust your skin crawls. Detect shifts in the bodies.

FEISTY FLESH (Physical instrument) : Use your muscles. Show your strenght. Remember what you were taught.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS (Electrochemistry) : Know love and know drugs and know danger as much as you crave them.

CITY GIRL (Shivers) : Tune in to the city. Communicate with the streets. Trust your intuition.

THE HUNT (Half-Light) : The world remains a Warzone. Be the prey or the predator. Let the fury loose.

Motorics

AIM/READY/FIRE (Hand/eye coordination) : Coordinate your brain and your hands. Stop shaking.

SENSES (Perception) : See, hear, smell, know your surroundings.

REFLEXES (Reaction Speed) : React fast. Evade threats.

STREET SMARTS (Replacing Savoir-faire) : Be sneaky, stay stealthy. Know the backdoors and their codes.

SOLLERTIA (Interfacing) : Apprehend through touch. Work your way through machines and mechanic.

COMPOSURE (Composure) : Keep control. Don't let the mask fall. You learned from the best.

_____

It’s the first morning of March 196 in Encre. The days have been getting longer, the streets busier, the trees greener. The traffic in the neighborhood is just as jammed as ever.

That doesn't stop the young woman on her rust-red bike, half-bleached hair tied into a messy ponytail, sleeves rolled up and feet absolutely crushing the pedals. She zigzags through the cars and the klaxons, then down the slope, wind flapping her pants against her ankles.

SCATTERBRAIN - YOU ARE A BIRD. YOU ARE FREE. YOU ARE SO FUCKING FREE RIGHT NOW.

THE HUNT - STOP IT! STOP THE DAMN BIKE! YOU’RE GOING TO CRASH INTO THE NEAREST STREETLAMP AND DIE!

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - No, you're not! It’s okay, you’re used to this! You know how to ride a bike now!

HYPERMNESIA - Fourtieth day at university. The hiss, then the loud metallic crash. The feeling of the wet pavement under your elbows. Your cheek hitting it and the loud crack that followed. You spat out blood. And your left fang.

NERVES - Yeowch.

HYPERMNESIA - Then you got up. Toshiki was standing two meters away, in the rain, in a copy of one of his many black trench-coats.

COMPOSURE - Barely even blinked. Just looked at your scraped knees, your bloodied mouth, the tooth in your hand, and then asked gingerly if you were going to pick up your mangled bike from the ground.

SHADOWSELF - You lost a tooth and a lot of charisma capital that day.

THEATRICS - Requiescat in pace, sister.

SOLLERTIA - Hey, at least you managed to fix your bike!

REFLEXES - Now pump the damn brakes so you don't have to again.

The bike comes to a screeching halt in front of a narrow stone building, her driver miraculously unharmed. Taiven, for that is her name, dismounts it with a content sigh, then rubs her hands together.

“Whew.”

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - See? That wasn’t so bad!

THE HUNT - I HATE THIS. I HATE IT HERE. WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS.

THICKSKIN - Easy now. Steady. Get your heartbeat to slow down… Good. Just like that.

ASSERTION - Now readjust your glasses and go in with that confident stride of yours.

Taiven exhales and looks up at the building, the red flag and the white flower stamped in the middle. The People’s Party district building.

HYPERMNESIA - It used to be a several-stories bookstore, before the tenants were deported. It was refurbished in 188, and now it's the district office for the Party.

She's relieved she isn’t needed at the main headquarters this week. Not after saturday. Saturday was yet another verbal joust with Anthony at the stand, in front of an entire crowd. Some people laughing, others shouting.

COMPOSURE - You’ve kept your cool. So did he, although with great difficulty.

SENSES (HEARING) - But you did hear the “fucking bitch” he hissed through his gritted teeth backstage.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - In the main headquarters, a significant amount of blocks away, Anthony Marques still mulls over what happened this weekend. Since you've stopped being a ghost speech writer, you've figuratively shoved your middle finger in his face several times and he hates it. He's the rising star of this party, goddammit. How come the Markhov bitch keeps getting in his way?

BLEEDING HEART - He wants to see you defeated. He wants to see you kneel. Make you pay for his injured ego.

THE HUNT - It's not desire. It's domination. He wants you on his plate.

COMPOSURE - But he can’t have that. So he keeps his jaw clenched and goes back to work.

ASSERTION - Serves him right.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Probably thinks about you when he fucks Janelle.

NERVES - OH, EW.

THEATRICS - VERY VERY EW. BWERGH EVEN.

SHADOWSELF - Too bad because he's not getting it.

FEISTY FLESH - If anyone bends over backwards then it’s not gonna be you.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT : Can you please stop thinking about the terrifying hypothetical of Marques’ sexuality even remotely including you and go in? Please?

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS : Yeah, please don’t think about him railing his fiancee in the headquarters’ bathroom and about how it-

FOCUS - Enough. Enter. Work. Now.

The Gaikamshigthai shakes her head, as if to dust off the unwarranted thoughts, and steps into the building. It's only nine in the morning and these aren't the headquarters', so the offices are empty, except for a few secretaries, the janitor and an old elf named Dlawenn who’s mumbling very colorful curse words at the mimeograph.

BLEEDING HEART - Mimeograph abuse.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - We've all been there.

SCATTERBRAIN - But you've never been abused by a mimeograph before, have you?

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Not by a mimeograph, no.

RHETORIC - It’s a figure of speech. Moving on.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Apart from one thing.

There’s a young man sitting in one of the worn-out couches, absently sipping coffee from his goblet. A human, with tired hazel eyes, freckles scattered around his pale skin, short, neatly combed chestnut hair, and a heart-shaped face. His clothes are neat, shirt perfectly ironed and clean jacket matching with his trousers. His shoes, although a little dusty, have been recently waxed.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - You never saw him here before.

HYPERMNESIA - You’d remember, if you had.

FOCUS - That's a paper goblet. Most adherents here have their own mug stored in one of the break room cupboards, so that means he's either a newbie or a guest.

STREET SMARTS - You know what to do, champ.

“Well, would you look at that!” Taiven chimes in with her most welcoming smile. “It’s always good to see a new face around here. Do you perhaps think about joining us?”

SHADOWSELF - Somehow you succeed in making it sound perfectly normal and not like you’re some creep trying to coax him into joining a cult.

The young man startles a little, but soon enough an uncertain smile eases its way onto his face. He puts down his goblet on the wooden coffee table and swiftly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a little flush coming to his cheeks.

BLEEDING HEART - Not expecting such a warm greeting, but appreciating it nonetheless.

“Oh, hum, thank you for the offer, but…” A shy laugh. “I’ve actually been an adherent for quite some time. It's just the first time I could gather enough courage to come here.”

His voice is soft, hesitant, almost hushed, his words carefully chosen.

SCATTERBRAIN - Feels like a fancy carpeted hallway in a quaint little hostel.

“Well, that’s great! Will spare me the usual spiel.”

She sits down in the armchair next to his couch. Not right next to him, so he doesn't feel too invaded.

COMPOSURE - He seems considerably less intimidated now, even lets out a relieved breath.

SHADOWSELF - You have a bad habit of towering over people, sunshine.

ASSERTION - Bad habit? I think it’s great.

SHADOWSELF - Of course. Not oppressive at all. See, this is why you only have one friend.

“Um.”

The young man fidgets nervously with the buttons of his jacket.

“I’m… just not used to going out. But I thought I should make better use of my free time, so here I am. The good sir over here got me coffee and told me to wait there for something to happen, since it’s not very crowded this morning.”

The good sir in question, Dlawenn, is now banging his fist on the decidedly uncooperative mimeograph, muttering to himself.

SENSES (HEARING) - “They really ought to replace the damn thing.”

“Well, it's always good to see some activity here. Even if it’s just drinking coffee. May I know your name?”

He looks a little taken aback, but then hurriedly extends his left hand, faced flushed even redder.

“Right! Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude! I’m Tristan Hawthorne. Pleased to meet you.”

SMARTASS - Hawthorne… Hawthorne… That rings a little bell somewhere. Let me run some mental background check, I'll come back later. You're not preoccupied with his patronym right now.

Taiven smiles, shakes his hand vigorously.

FEISTY FLESH - Good. Nice handshake. Solid.

SOLLERTIA - You feel something cold against your skin. Metallic. A wedding ring? How did you not notice it before?

SENSES (SIGHT) - To be honest, your eyesight is kinda shit. Blame astigmatism.

“Pleased to meet you too, comrade Hawthorne.”

Tristan lightens up almost instantly.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - “Comrade”. Makes him feel like he belongs.

BLEEDING HEART - It doesn't happen to him often.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Reminds you of yourself.

HYPERMNESIA - It’s october 178. It’s your first year of elementary. You're alone on the playground, drawing in the mud with a stick. The other kids are playing tag, or hide and seek. You've tried joining them, but you're apparently too loud, too bossy, too annoying. One kid called you some kind of slur. You don’t know what the word means.

SMARTASS - It was an encrois slang word who can basically translate to "sun-dick-swallower" and is mostly used against Gaikamshigthais. You're welcome.

THICKSKIN - Oh, boo hoo, no one wants to play with me… Seriously, it's been twenty years, can’t you get over it?

She lets go of his hand and grins, ignoring the memories as best as she can.

“I'm Taiven Markhov, by the way.”

“Oh, I know!”

Regret immediately downs on his face. His replied came out fast, probably motivated by his surge of enthusiasm. Taiven raises an eyebrow, still smiling.

“You do?”

“Uh… Yeah. I was at the rally on Saturday. I’d heard about you before, but it was the first time I saw one of your speeches in public. You were… really amazing. I was really surprised.”

THEATRICS - He means it.

RHETORIC - There's something weird in the way he says it, however. Why was he surprised?

“Why surprised?”

Tristan seems even more embarrassed.

“Well, I heard rumors about you before. Not the nice kind. But I was happy to see they were wrong.”

RHETORIC - Heh. Honest guy.

ASSERTION - A sense of pride washes over you. You're so used to people on the left political spectrum grimacing when they hear your name. Thinking you’re the Markhov’s lapdog. But you're not anyone’s lapdog.

“I’m happy to hear that! Even if I do put a lot of efforts into annoying my fellow comrades, I admit.”

THEATRICS - That makes him laugh.

“When you feel confident enough, perhaps you can take the stand as well!”

His smile suddenly falters a little and he carefully leans back into the couch, hands fidgeting again.

“I… Maybe. We’ll see.”

FOCUS - Clammed up all of a sudden. Lips pressed tight. Avoidant gaze. Slumped shoulders. Nervous tics.

BLEEDING HEART - Whatever you said, it scared him.

SOLLERTIA - He’s spinning his ring around his finger.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Uh oh. You have a bad feeling about this.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Okay, you got this! Stay affable.

“Are you okay?” Taiven asks with concern.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about me.”

His nervous twitching seems to subside, but he's still not looking at her.

COMPOSURE - He’s not calmed down. Only pretends he has.

“Are you sure? You don’t look too well…”

She raises a hand towards his shoulder, and the young man shudders and tenses visibly. When his eyes snap back up, they’re slightly widened.

THE HUNT - The terrified eyes of a prey. He thought you were gonna hit him.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - You definitely have a really, really bad feeling about this.

THE HUNT - He’s looking around for some kind of exit. Just in case.

STREET SMARTS - The fact that Dlawenn has left the room and the proximity in a closed space makes him uncomfortable.

COMPOSURE - Your hand is still hovering over his shoulder, by the way. It’s really awkward.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Pssst. Hey. You should pay a little more attention to the smell.

SENSES (SMELL) - What’s… tobacco? Oh. He's a smoker.

RHETORIC - Perfect. Look at this amazing opportunity to slink out.

“Comrade Hawthorne, do you want to go out for a smoke?”

Tristan blinks, clearly not expecting that, but gives a small nod.

“Yeah, sure. I'd like that.”

THE HUNT - Smart. The street is busy. Lots of openings. Less cramped. Easy to flee.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - SMOKE! SMOKE! SMOKE! SMOKE!

They both walk out, Taiven in front, Tristan following. The street outside is filled with cars now, some mobylettes and scooters zooming past, Taiven’s bike is still secured to the nearest bike parking spot. Tristan immediately pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, as well as an engraved lighter.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Woaaaah, that's a super expansive brand. Good quality too. You should-

COMPOSURE - You’re not asking him for a cigarette. You have your own pack and it'd be rude to ask when you're the one who suggested the outing.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Boo.

They both light their cigarettes in silence. Taiven sucks in a puff of smoke, exhales it into the morning air.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Ahhh, that hits the spot.

NERVES - It helps you both calm down.

The Gaikamshigthai closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the motorway, the klaxons, the fleeting conversations of passerbys.

CITY GIRL - Life courses along the city’s many blood vessels again after years of trampling on its trachea. There’s stores opening their windows, laundry left to dry over the balcony, an uncessant movement and shuffle. South from here, a girl is making silly faces at her friend through the schoolbus window. The girl on the sidewalk is trying not to laugh. On the biggest avenue in the city, an office worker listens to his autoradio, tapping his finger to the rythm. Some new kind of rock music station his son recommended to him. It passes the time in the traffic jam. Near the memory garden, two lovers are speeding on their motorbike, laughing hysterically. They’re daring anyone to come out and arrest them while they're so happy to be alive. An old woman in a wheelchair is enjoying the sun by taking a nice stroll out, not letting the uneven pavement stop her, her dog trotting in front of her. A homeless person makes back and forth paces accross the same bridge. So many trod here each day, you can scarcely believe desolation had shut it all down a mere decade ago.

SCATTERBRAIN - Like flowers growing from the bones beneath a graveyard.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - The biggest graveyard is in your head and you should leave it alone.

Tristan is staring off into space, more relaxed than he was inside, concentrated on his cigarette. A few remnants of nervosity makes his eyelid twitch from time to time.

SMARTASS - Hey. Hey. I finally found where the ringing came from. Hawthorne’s the name of a big lineage of mages. Not Kojima-type big but still kind of important. Bourgeois. Radicals. Close connections inside the Party.

HYPERMNESIA - Hawthorne. You heard that name. You read it.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - Janelle Venegas, a secretary, is complaining in the hallway to her colleagues, waving around her left hand adorned with an engagement ring. “Will Hawthorne ever learn to shut up?! Every time she opens her mouth she makes us look like lunatics!”

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Hope Hawthorne. Lawrence Hawthorne. Casey Hawthorne. And counting. Names engraved in the stone of the War Memorial.

THE HUNT - Those who weren’t shot dead were blown to pieces.

SMARTASS - But there’s one left, isn't there?

HYPERMNESIA - From what you remember, they weren’t called Tristan.

SHADOWSELF - Try to ease into conversation. Don't scare him off.

“I’m sorry if I got too comfortable in there,” Taiven finally says apologetically.

Tristan slowly shakes his head.

“No, you did nothing wrong. I'm just a little jumpy, is all.”

“Does the idea of public speaking make you nervous? It’s okay if it does. It’s not for everyone.”

“No, I'd love to try, but…”

RHETORIC - But ?

COMPOSURE - He’s nervous again. Shoves his left hand into his pocket.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - He doesn’t want to look at the ring.

RHETORIC - Give the poor guy a little nudge here.

“But something else is stopping you?”

He stares at the ground for a while, then sighs.

“I doubt my wife would approve.”

RHETORIC - By that, he means his wife would definitely not approve.

SMARTASS - The wife! The wife is the remaining Hawthorne, not him!

COMPOSURE - Makes sense. He doesn’t carry himself with the confidence that comes with knowing you have access to magic.

RHETORIC - And to the privileges that come with them.

THEATRICS - Play dumb.

“Really? Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because… Hm… How should I say it… Charity has… Very clear stances on things. It’d stain our good name if I were ever to preach something else.”

BLEEDING HEART - A hint of resentment.

SMARTASS - So the name’s Charity Hawthorne.

SCATTERBRAIN - Ironic. She doesn't sound very charitable.

NERVES - When he says her name, he instinctively rubs his wrist. Winces.

THE HUNT - He’s scared of her.

SMARTASS - Hey, so. I have a reasoning, but you're not gonna like it.

RHETORIC - Fire away.

SMARTASS - Let's recap what we know. Tristan obviously doesn’t go outside a lot. It’s his first time coming to the Party office despite being a long-time adherent. He’s a non-mage married to a mage from a powerful family and who decides what he can or can’t do and who doesn't have a great reputation around here. His whole attitude is that of a hunted animal. So the logical conclusion would be ?

BLEEDING HEART - … Domestic violence.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - You’ve guessed it a while ago. It all looks very familiar, doesn't it?

COMPOSURE - Don’t let your thoughts show.

“Oh,” Taiven simply says.

Tristan falls silent again, eyes darting away in shame, like he said something he wasn't supposed to.

NERVES - Getting awkward again. You should say something.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - How funny would it be if you just yelled “TITS” out of nowhere?

BLEEDING HEART - Screaming randomly in the face of a potential domestic abuse victim? Very much not.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Yeah, chill, you get really weird when you’re nervous.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Killjoy.

RHETORIC - We still have to say something.

BLEEDING HEART - No. To do something.

“That doesn’t seem very healthy,” Taiven remarks. Then, lower, “Do you need help?”

Tristan blinks at her. Several times.

BLEEDING HEART - No one’s ever offered to help before you.

“It’s… It's very nice of you, comrade Markhov, but I was lucky enough to marry her. She’s, well, a Hawthorne, and my only asset is being from a wealthy family.”

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Probably the youngest child. And the most feeble one. Easy to throw away to the wolves.

RHETORIC - He didn't say “no”.

BLEEDING HEART - Because that would be a lie, and he hates lying.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Does that mean you’re on the case now? Is there a way to help?

FOCUS - Okay. Let's not rush too far ahead. We should gather intel before we do anything else. Intel on him, on Charity Hawthorne, and especially on her political record.

RHETORIC - Then, when we have enough material to work with, we can talk to him about potentially filing a complaint.

THE HUNT - Otherwise he won't believe that it can work.

SHADOWSELF - Alright. Keep the conversation going a little. One info at a time.

“Have you been married for a long time?”

Tristan looks up to the sky, seemingly doing some mental math.

“Since I was twenty-three, so… about five years.”

SMARTASS - 23+5=28

REFLEXES - Wait, he’s TWENTY-EIGHT?!

ASSERTION - OLDER THAN YOU?!

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - NO WAY.

COMPOSURE - What’s so surprising about that ?

THEATRICS - But- He looks so young! Look at that baby face! And the kicked puppy eyes!

SHADOWSELF - Some people age more gracefully than you.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - His skin looks super soft. I wanna take a bite.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Woah there friend, you're both married, remember?

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Just because there’s another fisherman doesn't mean you can’t throw some lines in the canal.

RHETORIC - Nicely worded!

COMPOSURE - But still no.

“How long have you been married?” Tristan suddenly asks.

RHETORIC - He could easily guess by himself, but he wants to steer the conversation away from his personal issues.

“Nearly three years now,” Taiven replies with a smile.

Crazy how time flies.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Felt like it was just yesterday you got that ring on your finger and your name back.

“You seem happy,” Tristan notes.

BLEEDING HEART - He’s not jealous. Perhaps a little bitter, but mostly relieved that your marriage is happier than his own.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - He's starting to look a little down, maybe change the subject? You’ll definitely come back to this later.

RHETORIC - Yeah. You won’t get anything else out of him today.

Taiven puts her cigarette down on the sole of her shoe and smiles warmly at the man.

“Are you any good with machines?”

Tristan raises a curious eyebrow.

“Reasonably. Why?”

“Good. There's a weekly newsletter that needs writing and I’m not really good with typewriters. Could be a good way to teach you a little about fieldwork, too, don’t you think?”

THEATRICS - You're actually okay with typewriters, but one must be committed to the bit.

A small light is gleaming in the man’s eyes.

“Really? You'd do that?”

“Yeah! Why wouldn't I? Always a pleasure to help out a rookie.”

SHADOWSELF - Anyone else would think of this as exploitation, but that guy desperately needs something to do that isn’t sitting at home. And you do want to teach him a thing or two.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Hey, hey, once we’re done here, you should talk to Ian about this! You need his opinion.

ASSERTION - Why? You’re perfectly capable of solving this case on your own.

COMPOSURE - He always has good insight, better to consult him first.

THE HUNT - Just to make sure you don’t fry too big a fish.

THICKSKIN - You’re being a baby. Why are you so worried? Do you think you’re going to stupidly throw yourself into danger?

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Hell yeah, finally some ACTION!

COMPOSURE - With that one? Better safe than sorry.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Come on, I'm sure it'll go just fine! As long as you make sure it does!

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Sure. Let’s hope you know what you're doing. For his sake, and yours.

#i need to writing something about ajeng now

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