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runesfactory · 4 years ago

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run cried the crawling | chapter 01

summary: Tasokare Hotel is a place that exists between the real world and the afterlife. A residing place for spirits whose fate has yet been decided. To die or to live on. Aesop has yet to discover the truth behind his own near demise. It was until a stranger walked through the doors of the hotel with an owl head that the horrific truth began to unravel.

pairing: aesop carl x eli clark

genre: mystery, supernatural, horror & romance

warnings: mature themes. descriptive writing of violence and blood. body horror. strong angst. equally strong romance. heavy pining. mild profanity. death. tasokare hotel spoilers.

word count: 3261

chapters: 01 | 02 | ...

To Aesop, thoughts about your fate after death aren't unusual. The afterlife and qhat not. However, spending his time at a vintage hotel certainly never crossed his mind. A hotel in the middle of a barren world, might he add.

Yet here Aesop stands, behind the receptionist desk beside Vera Nair, the manager’s assistant. The Hotel Manager told Aesop that he’d be away for a minute or two. He knows very well that the Manager has just left his responsibilities by going around, aimlessly, or taking a nap somewhere in this hotel. “That damn useless manager!” Vera curses under her breath, slamming her fist on the desk. He doesn't feel like he’s qualified for a task like this, welcoming guests and all. Surely not because his previous occupation focuses mainly on interacting with the dead rather than the living. But they're technically not alive, are they?

The Hotel Manager of this hotel is quite the character. He’s not human, first of all. He remembered feeling freaked out by the flame-headed man when they first met. However, he’s not the only non-human in this hotel. Vera Nair and Lucchino are the two other non-humans, though Vera seems human. He once tried asking her and she only gave her a knowing smile, saying ‘wouldn’t you like to know’.

This is quite the world. It feels as if time never passes. The sky remains the same, so it’s difficult to tell whether minutes or hours have passed.

At this point, who knows how long he’s been waiting until his time to move on as a spirit comes. When will that time be? He doesn’t know. For all he knows, it could be forever that he stays there. To be honest, he doesn’t mind it all that much. The unknown unease him and the questions around his own fate are filled with it. If he were to spend the rest of his life in this state of limbo, he wouldn't really mind. Maybe.

The window of the lobby glares the shade of yellow and orange from the sky outside. Time doesn’t move in this place. As its name suggests, time remains between the twilight and sunset. Most of the rooms have windows showing exactly that, but Aesop’s room has a piece of the night sky. He realized it has changed not long after his arrival. The dark blue sky littered with tiny freckles of stars decorating the blank surface. He quite likes it.

Perhaps the change of sky has something to do with his memory? That the change is significant? He wonders what it could possibly mean. Perhaps he died at night time. To have died at night... It makes him wonder whether he had a peaceful death of some sort. The very reason why he’s still glued to this enigma of a place that is the hotel.

His death. How did he die? And why?

Those are the questions that kept lingering in his mind. The key to his departure from this hotel yet the clues given to him left him were bits and pieces of memories and information of what his life might've been like. Nothing detrimental to his death. It leaves him with more questions than answers really.

His name is Aesop Carl. He's 21. He works, well, worked to be more precise as an embalmer. He was quite fond of his work, proud of his craft, perhaps still is. And he was (or maybe still is) in a relationship with a man. However, the portrait of him and said person had been burned off. The corner of the portrait had the initials ‘A&EC’ written on the back of it. He wondered if the initials belonged to them. It’s strange that he couldn’t recall the face of the man, but he believes the person was important to him. Perhaps still is.

It’s frustrating to not remember anything.

Those were the only things he knew about himself so far. Then other things came along such as he's not so terrible at cooking, quite adept in the art of ballet, and doesn't enjoy the company of strangers.

Nothing gave him a hint as to what might've happened to him. Not a single clue. The closest thing he knows to his death is the night sky of his room and the burned portrait. Perhaps, he was burned alive. A gruesome thought really, but he doesn't dismiss the possibility.

It's not enough to merely guess how you've died. You have to be certain. At least that’s what he concluded from observing other guests who’ve successfully passed on from here. Slowly, he's given up on the hopes of returning to the real world. Death is inevitable. That's what he says to himself every day as an Embalmer.

"So much to learn yet not a single clue…" He mumbles to himself, leaning his back against the drawers behind him, and crosses both of his arms across his chest. His eyes remain fixated on the windows tinted with orange. He’s left by himself, Vera had told him that she needs to take care of the matters in the bar even though he knows they don’t have any guests. Well, he brushes it off. It doesn’t really matter.

"Mr. Aesop! Good morning!" A voice greets him and when he turns to looks. It’s Emma, the hotel’s gardener, and cleaning service. Her face is always covered with hints of dirt. The same goes for her whole attire whenever he sees her. She always greets everyone with a lot of enthusiasm, so warm and cheerful. Even to him although he’s more than aware he comes off as quite off-putting to most if not all people.

Aesop finds it difficult to get close to anyone, always thinking either they might not really like him or they’re out to get him. He finds it hard to tell if anyone is being genuine at all. However, Emma is one of the few exceptions. Her company aside, her peculiar interest in plants piqued his interest and reminded him of his own interests although his are much grimmer by comparison. Although, he's quite fond of certain plants himself and Emma's always more than happy to provide.

“Ms. Woods,” Aesop responds softly, nodding slightly. “Working hard in the garden as usual?”

“Yes! The mini garden I’ve created in my room has grown splendidly! I’d love to show you some of the berries that have sprouted.” Emma giggles, clenching her hands together while her eyes glimmer. “If you feel comfortable, please do visit my room when you have some time to spare!”

To the offer, he can only smile though eyes avoiding hers, “I’ll consider it.”

The entrance door creaks, opening itself. Both of their eyes shifted to the figure walking through the door. A stranger walks in with the head of an owl.

Upon their first arrival, each individual who hasn't figured out who they are will have their faces hidden. Not every person who enters the hotel has it, as he quickly found out. Their heads are often covered by some form of a mask. It seems that the same thing has happened to this individual.

"Welcome to Tasokare Hotel," He bows slightly, putting his best facade, "How may I be of service to you, sir?"

"A hotel?" The stranger tilts their head to the side. "Sorry, I just have no idea where to go and it seems that wherever I go I always encounter this building. A hotel, you say…"

"Yes, sir."

"How strange. I've never seen a hotel such as this before. Let alone in the middle of nowhere." The stranger tilts his head up, gazing around the building, taking in the atmosphere of the hotel.

"This hotel lies between the two realms of the real world and the afterlife." Aesop continues to explain while taking out the guest book, displaying it across the table to the stranger. "A spirit such as yourself encounters this place simply because you are lying between those two realms."

"A spirit?" The stranger continues to questions. "Ah, would that mean I'm dead?" He asks rather calmly.

Emma shakes her head, continuing off Aesop, "Not quite! You have yet to die and that's why you're here."

"I see." The stranger mumbles. Aesop wasn't as calm as this when he first discovered the place. He was quite frantic, panicking and adamant that it was all a dream. Possibly freaked the Hotel Manager off.

"Okay, sir. If you could just sign here please then I'll ask a staff member to help you."

"O-oh, I don't think I can afford to pay to stay here."

"There is no need," Aesop replies shortly, handing the stranger the pen. It might've caught the stranger off guard, yet he signed on the book anyway.

"Well," He pauses, before calmly saying, "It seems like I don't remember my name."

"That's quite normal here, no need to worry." Emma smiles widely at the stranger. "It's part of our job to help you remember your memories!"

"My memories?"

"Yes! Your room will tell us bits and pieces about you and what happened to you. Of course, we can only help with certain things such as finding items that may look important to you. Items that might trigger them."

"Is that so? Will remembering help me move on from this place?"

"Bingo!" She gives him a finger gun gesture. "Either that or you may return back to the real world. The reason why most of us are still here is that our body's still somewhat intact in the real world."

"Most of us?" He seems surprised. "Ah, are you-"

"Most of us are spirits as well, yes." She puts it simply.

"Ah, I see. I apologize if I come off as insensitive." The stranger bows slightly. It's difficult to tell what expression he was making with the owl head though, from the soft tone he uses, Aesop can tell it was genuine.

"There is no need to apologize. This is hardly a normal circumstance to be in. Understandably it's hard for anybody to internalize." The second the stranger completes signing up the book, Aesop shuts it close and puts it back on the shelf. He turns his back towards the stranger, reaching out to a key in one of the drawers behind him.

He stands still for a moment. Perhaps that may be a little too harsh, Aesop thinks to himself. However, it's true. Arriving at this strange hotel, being told that you're hanging by a thread between life and death. Can anyone afford to be careful with what they say around the subject?

"You're certainly right, Mr…"

"Carl. Aesop Carl."

"Mr. Carl,” The stranger speaks his name gently. “Thank you for easing some of my concerns! And thank you too, Miss…”

“Miss Woods. You may call me Emma, I don’t really mind.” Emma waves her hand at him. “Mr. Aesop, you should take the kind gentleman to his room! Ah, ah, ah,” She lifts her finger at Aesop. An immediate response before Aesop could protest. “I’ll take over the desk for a while. Besides, we don’t get that many guests these days. It’ll be fine. Let me quickly change my clothes!”

For a moment, he hesitates. By the looks on Emma’s face, it wouldn’t go anywhere if he were to argue with her. He doesn’t like confrontation, so he lets out a sigh, Emma squeals at this then continues to rush to her room as fast as she could. Aesop turns to the stranger, “Alright, sir. I’ll be guiding and assisting you if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! Please lead the way.”

The red carpet and vintage wallpaper across the halls of the hotel give off the old-style aesthetic. The whole building is filled to the brim with vintage furniture, even more so in the bar area where you can hear jazz music echo through the room. It is a miracle that the Hotel Manager was able to maintain the cleanliness of this space, though he’s very much convinced it’s all thanks to the staff that was here prior to his arrival.

Aesop and the stranger walk down the halls of the second floor. He lives on the same floor as well. It’s a very quiet floor. He likes the atmosphere. Each floor has similar grand decor, much different from the lobby. The red-carpeted floor with complicated patterns embroidered across it. Accompanied with a light, creamy wallpaper and the yellow tinted chandelier-like lights that go all the way through the hallway. It’s quite fancy.

Each step they take causes tiny thumps against the carpeted floor. It’s quiet. He appreciates that. He dreaded small talks, not quite because he dislikes the people themselves, but he just doesn’t know what to say. He much prefers this silence over having his thoughts rambling, him desperately grasping for any answers that would deem suitable to whoever he speaks to. Aesop thinks about the smallest details, the most trivial details. Simply put, small talks aren’t his forte.

He lets out a deep breath, stopping in front of the door of the room, “This is it.” He unlocks the door with the key in his hand then turns the knob, revealing the room.

Each individual room is like a piece of the person’s life summarized in a room. From the furniture to the color of the wallpaper and the flooring. The stranger’s room is quite simple. Aesop often encounters extravagant paintings, gold linen sheets, and such. But. There is nothing too extravagant about it aside from the peculiar birdcage standing near the bookshelf, not far from the door. The walls are colored in plain, navy blue shade with wooden flooring.

"This is quite the room." The stranger remarks, looking around the room perhaps with an awed look Aesop would imagine. “Does it fit your liking?" He asks quietly.

"Yes, yes, it does. I'm quite surprised actually. Impeccable service for a hotel in a stranded place” He jokes.

“No, any of the rooms can be like this. Depending on the guest.” Aesop puts it blatantly with a blank look on his face. The stranger laughs at the deadpan response. “I see. Even so, this feels… familiar. Almost homely.”

It always does. It did for Aesop. It didn’t take so long for him to get used to the comfort of his own chambers. The more he thought about it, it’s quite scary how easy he felt at home there. The familiar atmosphere and all. Almost as if to bring you a false sense of comfort. Every Time he steps outside of those comforting walls, he’s reminded again of the odd reality he currently lives in.

“So, I guess I’ll have to look around the room for clues, I assume?” The stranger walks toward the bed, grazing their hand over the metal frame of the bed.

“Yes. I’ll be assisting you in doing so.”

“That’d be immensely helpful. Thank you very much, Mr. Carl. You’ve been very helpful to ease my confusion. It’s quite comforting.” The stranger bows slightly before him, one hand behind him. The gesture caught Aesop off guard, though not to let it slip he simply huffs lightly. Again, he feels like behind that owl head he could sense a smile.

So the two began searching through the room.

There were only two rooms in this room. It’s quite small by comparison to the other ones he’s ever been in. However, spacious enough that it grants a jointed living room next to the bedroom. Aesop begins his search there while the stranger’s in the bedroom. Important documents and identification are his main priority. Those are the few things that could at least give the guests an identity to hang onto. A face to their masked selves. A person.

It wasn’t a long search. The room is quite small and there were only a handful of places they were able to look into. Aesop continues to fumble through knick-knacks around the room. There aren’t a lot of them around, barely any really. Rather, he finds plenty of journals and books regarding the stars, plenty related to birds as well. He concludes that the stranger is probably fond of owls the most, knowing his face is shaped as an owl. Aesop laughs softly at the excited scribbles of footnotes that they put in each of those journals.

However, he remains fixated on a couple of things. At the corner of every book he encounters, there’s an initial written on them.

E.C. Scribbled, carved, and written. His thumb grazed over the initial.

An initial that belongs to the stranger. It must be unless it’s a pseudonym. He wouldn’t really pass that possibility. Writers often do that. The more Aesop flicks through the pages, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’s seen such writing before. He brushes his fingers over the writing, deep in his own thoughts. Just who is this stranger? He can’t help but notice the way something is tugging itself in him.

He remains wary and curious all the same, but it wouldn’t help to bombard someone who has no clue of who they are with questions. He keeps the feeling to himself. After completing his search through the shelves, he heads back to the bedroom where the stranger is. The stranger was on the floor, surrounded by piles of documents and papers.

Aesop sees a man. No, the stranger, standing still, head looking down with his body facing towards the window. No longer did he have the head of an owl. The moonlight from outside casting over a halo-like outline of the strangers’ oddly still figure. It shines over the back of the head of the faceless stranger. He stands so incredibly still, almost statue-like. Aesop slowly approaches the figure, then-

“Eli,” The stranger speaks.

“I-I’m sorry?” Aesop stutters.

When the man turns around to face Aesop’s own grey eyes, he sees the lovely shade of navy blue. A glint of the moonlight reflected in their eyes and their dark brown hair. Now, maskless, he can clearly see the smile on the man’s face. “I remember it. My name. My name is Eli Clark.”

There’s a pounding in his head.

When Aesop takes a few steps closer to him, his eyes widen now feeling his body has frozen still. This is the only other room that shows the night sky. Moreso, they have the same view. It feels like looking out to his own window but from a different angle. He senses a thousand questions overwhelming his thoughts.

Eli… Eli Clark…

His mind echoes the name repeatedly like voices speaking simultaneously.

The other man turns to face him. The back of his head abruptly surged with an ache. As if he was--

-- hit on the back of his head. It was hard. Aesop's head greets the cold ground almost instantly. The impact left a ringing in his ear. His sight blurs. He hears an echo of the siren, slightly faint in his head. He desperately crawls his body across the ground, unsure of where to go but he remembers his lip moves.

The iron taste of his own blood lingers. A name on the tip of his tongue. Eli’s name. He needs to let Eli know. He feels his hand extend towards something. It reaches out towards a phone. Fingers grasping and scratching against the ground as he struggles to drag his body across the floor. He fails to notice the shadow that looms over his figure.

“Don’t you dare try to run away!” The figure cries out.

When the second hit strikes, his entire body remains still. He could feel the numbing pain across his head, the gushing liquid on the side of his head that leaks out slowly within his view. Before his eyes begin to give up, he senses another presence. The numbness reaches his head and before he knew it.

“E… Eli…” He whispers before passing out.

#identity v #elisop #aesopeli #aesop x eli #aesop carl #eli clark #mystery #supernatural #tasokare hotel au #thriller #romance #lots of pining #hurt & comfort #tragic but with a happy ending #runesfactory

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runesfactory · 4 years ago

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run cried the crawling | 02

pairing: aesop carl x eli clark

genre: mystery, supernatural & gothic romance

word count: 5365

warnings: mature themes. descriptive writing of violence and blood. body horror. strong angst. equally strong romance. heavy pining. mild profanity. death. tasokare hotel spoilers.

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03

cw: brief description of anxiety attack and revisiting trauma

Aesop wakes breaking in cold sweat along with a choked-up sensation in his throat.

The narrow breath in his throat causes his eyes to open wide but immediately squints when the glaring lights from above shine down on him. His body is stiff, so he remains still. He coughs out the soreness in his throat while his right hand frantically reaches the back of his head.

The ache’s no longer there. No blood, nothing. He can only feel dizziness and tightness and hard thumping in his chest. What was that? A memory? He recognizes the feeling of a memory being triggered, but nothing so far has this sort of after effect. All he wants to do now is to lay down. This headache could last him days.

“...needs to rest! Why are you all here?” He realizes there are people around. The voices around became clearer. The ringing stirs away from clouding his mind.

“Can’t we see how he’s doing? We’re all friends here, are we not?” A voice replies, a much huskier voice than the previous one.

“Mr. Campbell, this isn’t a hospital. We do not have the luxury of space to have everyone cramped up in my office like this. So, please leave or I will have to resort to other methods.”

Another voice roars. “Miss Dyer! I can’t encourage any form of violence-”

“Mr. Manager, I am simply doing my job and I cannot have others disrupt the peace that my patients need. So, if violence is required, then by all means—”

The bickering continues. It doesn’t cause any harm really, but he definitely doesn’t expect to be greeted by a crowd after passing out. He feels a little lightheaded, just how long has he been out anyway? He shifts slightly, groaning a little at the ache all over his body.

“Mr. Aesop! Thank goodness, you’re awake!” He looks around to see eyes staring at him with a worried look on their faces. Those eyes feel as if they’re prying deep into his soul. Aesop recognizes the room being Emily Dyer’s infirmary, the hotel’s very own doctor. Just by the smell of medicine and antiseptic in the air. On his right, he sees Emma seated close to his bed while The Hotel Manager stands over him with a familiar figure standing next to him.

“Norton,” He calls out to the familiar face. Norton leans closer to Aesop, abruptly pushing back the Hotel Manager slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Norton asks.

Norton is a close acquaintance to Aesop, being one of the first few people he got close with when he first arrived at the hotel. It’s less worrisome to have people he’s close with around him in such a fragile state, though Aesop couldn’t brush off the worries that flood his head. He can’t help it. They’re just there.

“I’m fine.” He responds quietly, not so very reassuring but his thoughts and feelings are all over the place.

“Oh, Aesop!” The Hotel Manager tears up, coming out as flickers of flames and a puff of smoke. The flame of his head turns blue. “Mr. Clark almost gave us a heart attack when he’d told us that you’ve passed out!”

“You’ve been for about a day. Everyone got so worried, but Emily insisted that you should be left alone. But we got worried so here we are.” says Emma with a concerned look on her face.

A day. It felt like he had only slept in for hours, but his fatigued body says otherwise. He lies back down on the bed. The softness of the mattress lures him slowly back to slumber. Emily appears beside him with a board between her crossed arms over her chest. She presses the back of her cold hand on his forehead. “You need to rest. You’re still fatigued from what happened. If you all could please leave the room quietly, Mr. Carl needs his peaceful time and rest." The subtle glare flashes on the doctor speak for itself as Emma, and the Manager slowly leaves the room. They wave at him. Norton stands there.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Norton catches on quickly. Aesop avoids his eyes, hoping that by turning his head away Norton would understand. Like an unspoken communication between them, Norton nods quietly before walking away. He understands. At least, that’s what Aesop thinks.

The room’s emptier now, quieter. His eyelids grow heavy, then he goes back to sleep. Letting his tiredness take over. Just for this once, he wants to rest but he fears the darkness. Just by a little, but unable to go against the temptation of slumber, he allows the darkness to swallow him again. This time hoping for an actual time of peace.

The second Eli was able to obtain his identity, he immediately remembers. The feeling of memories suddenly clicking together was oddly satisfying. Like having missing pieces of the puzzle clicks into its place seamlessly with no trouble. He is Eli Clark. He's 21 years old and he is an aspiring musician. He has quite an interest in tarots, fortune-telling, and such. He quite likes wildlife, often when volunteering to care for them. He has an owl. Her name is Brooke Rose and he misses her dearly.

It’s not a lot, but he holds onto this information tightly. These are the only things he’s able to grasp that’s familiar to him. None of them particularly shows any crucial information on why he’s here, but he doesn’t feel devastated whatsoever. For now, he’s just content that he can put a name to his face. Something of his human life to hold onto and for that, he’s grateful. However, that’s not to say his mind is at ease.

Who knows how long he’s spent his time pacing back and forth in front of the door? Emma, one of the staff, has told him that this is where Aesop will be resting. He feels that he owes him an apology of some sort, but for whatever reason, it’s a little hard for Eli to walk in there and just… do it.

Click. The door opens.

“Mr. Clark, how long are you planning to stand in front of my office?” Doctor Emily Dyer catches him staring at the door to her office, spacing out. He scatters to gather his thoughts. “Uh,” He stammers, “I was just passing by! Good evening, Doctor. I didn’t realize you were there. Fuh, you scared me alright, hahaha. I must’ve lost my way! Yep!” His laughter comes out obvious to the state of his nerves.

The doctor sighs, “If you are concerned over Mr. Carl, he’s doing fine. A bit distraught, and tense from what happened, but fine overall. Nothing critical. Even if it is, there’s not much we can do.” She continues to explain, crossing her arms across her chest. Eli isn’t quite sure what to make from the look on the doctor’s face. Worry, perhaps. It’s been a day since he last saw Aesop. The way he abruptly passes out when Eli reveals his identity caused him to question plenty of things. Aesop’s pale face when hearing his name. Seeing him in a state cause a trigger in Eli’s memory, a confusing one.

The trigger nearly caused him to pass out as well, but he only fell on his knees. It feels like a hard bang in your head, causing your ears to ring while fragments of memories begin to flash before your eyes. A cinematic reel of his own mind.

In his memory, he could not make out the face of the person, but he could recall the same way the person fell in front of him. A very cold place, he remembers that sensation. Of cold air kissing his skin, stings. He sees his own hands reaching out to the person. He could feel the vibration in his throat as he tried to scream something out, but nothing. It leaves him with a dreadful feeling. The feeling of discontent amplified by frustration over an incomplete puzzle. He has to figure it out. No, he needs to.

“I’m here to see him,” Eli confesses to her, “I was wondering how he’s been. Is he recovering well?”

To the question, he receives an affirmative nod from the doctor, but her stance remains straight. “He’s doing better, and he should be okay soon. The trigger of his memory must’ve given him quite the shock. It happens, but rarely. However, you don’t have to worry too much, he’s going to be fine.”

Eli smiles, “That’s a relief. Can I come in and see him?”

“Ah,” Doctor Dyer pauses. “He specifically told me to not let anyone see him. Maybe another time when he’s fully recovered. That’d be best.”

To that, Eli nods. The doctor returns to her office and he stands there, still deep in his own thoughts. It may be best to not overwhelm him with questions that Eli has kept in mind. Still with curiosity lingering over him. The doctor goes back into her office with the door shutting quietly. Eli walks away, but just as he was only a few steps away, he hears a click from the door. He turns his head to see a man. An unknown figure closed the door to the doctor’s office. The man stares at the door with furrowed eyebrows. One of her patients, perhaps? Eli doesn’t give it much thought, before walking away. He should find a way to talk to Aesop.

When Aesop returns to his regular duties as hotel staff, he senses a presence. No, nothing malicious, but still a presence. It’s the stranger. Eli Clark is his name, he remembers. The man has been staring at the back of his neck for the past half an hour while he tries to fix the tables, arrange the cutleries and plates. He doesn’t express his annoyance often, but if looks could kill. Why couldn’t he just approach him? Ask whatever he wants to ask? Wouldn’t that be better than to just stand there, staring at his back like a creep?

“You know, I’m not one to mind other people’s business. But that man with the blue eyes there looks like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t say what he wants to say.” Says Patricia, one of the staff who works at the restaurant, while glaring slightly at Eli at a distance while wiping up the plates.

Aesop doesn’t look back, already aware from the start. He’s not deliberately avoiding the man, of course. Well, he wouldn’t admit to it even if you ask. Although there’s a part of him who wants to know everything, there’s also a part of him who wants to know nothing. A part that shields himself from the painful possibility of the truth, even though the truth determines his literal life and death.

To that, Aesop takes a couple of deep breaths in and out. Emily reminded him to pace his breathing whenever he feels his thoughts are becoming too much to bear. He laughs, internally, at that. If that’s the case, then he’d be wheezing at this point of the day. But, he does it anyway. It helps, even if it eases only by a slight.

“I’ll talk to him.” He said to Patricia, despite what he thought just now. She raises a brow at him, unsure but then Aesop nods at her slightly. Even though he’s sure it doesn’t give much reassurance, she doesn’t push further before disappearing into the kitchen along with some dirty plates in hand. He turns to the stranger that sits in the corner of the restaurant. The room is dimmed with gentle chimes of the piano echoing from the bar next door. The restaurant is one of the few darker places in the hotel, literally. Mostly rely on the large, accentuated windows to brighten up the room despite its bare view of, well, nothing but the sun that constantly sets on the horizon.

But the corner Eli sits in is quite dimmed, though a lampstand glimmers over him almost like a company in the dark corner of the room. He’d ordered a cup of coffee, Aesop notices. Nothing else. So, Aesop thinks he might have other intentions by coming here. Not to say that relaxing and enjoying a cup of coffee while staring at nothing is out of the option entirely. But after what had happened, it’s almost as if Aesop knows what the other man’s going to do. He picks up the kettle filled with coffee then approaches Eli as swiftly as possible with his back straight and head lifted.

“Would you like a refill, sir?” He asks, politely. Eli nods, giving a small smile but eyes averted away. As Aesop pours the coffee into the cup, he senses how tensed Eli has become once he’s near. It’s quiet between the two, even as Aesop offers sugar or milk it comes off as whispers between the two. Perhaps, he’s not going to question him after all. However, Aesop’s own curiosity piques him. Should he gather enough courage to speak? Or should he continue to wait for the stranger to make the first move?

If he were to put it that way, it’s almost as if he wants to share something intimate. Well, if you can call a very traumatizing recollection of your memory moments before your potential demise as intimate then sure. Perhaps, not today. Not this time—

“Mr. Carl.” The voice calls out to him. A little louder than the whisper before. Aesop looks at him in the eyes. He never noticed how blue they were and the scar that engraved across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks. It’s quite the change between the owl eyes that were staring down at him before these, dare he say, pretty eyes looking back at him.

“Is it possible for us to have a moment and chat?” Eli continues to ask, now with a certain look on his face. Worry? Concern? A mix of both, maybe?

Aesop firmly shakes his head. “I apologize, sir, but I’m in the middle of my shift.” It’s part of the reason, though it’s true.

Although Aesop doesn’t earn any, if at all, from this job, he still considers it as a job. A duty despite it being a temporary one. Another part is fear. The uncertainty of what may come out of this chat. The truth has haunted Aesop’s thoughts as of recently, his own mortality comes into question more often than he’d like, and more to that, questions about his life, his mortal life. The one he so desperately tries to remember the past however-long-or-so.

Drawing blanks and leaving questions unanswered puts an immense unease in his thoughts. He hates it. He thinks it’s better to leave them be, or not listen to them at all. That way he doesn’t have to dread over the possibilities.

“Ah, I don’t mean to disturb your work. I apologize.” Eli bows slightly with an apologetic look written across his face.

Aesop stays quiet.

“I wanted to apologize, and also check on you after the incident. I apologize for not visiting you at the doctor's as soon as I could’ve. I was very worried about your well-being, but the doctor insisted that you should be left alone.”

“I asked her to. There’s no need to apologize.” Aesop replies, shortly.

Eli’s eyes stare down on the coffee, with a faded smile. A smile that barely curves on his face, barely visible to the eyes.

“Then could we talk after your shift? Or any time that’s convenient for you. There’s no pressure, I wouldn’t want to put you under a lot of distress.” He persists, yet nothing that causes any discomfort.

From the tone of his voice, Eli sounds determined. Aesop turns to face him. He doesn’t immediately reply and remains still, still almost imitating a statue.

“Not now…” His reply comes off as a quiet mumble. The expression on his face darkens before he walks away from him, picking up whatever filthy dishes in his line of sight.

Aesop has never felt so incredibly exhausted before. He doesn’t do much during his shift, so being this fatigued must mean something else. The weight of his worries and troubling thoughts come to wash over him, like vines attempting to drag him back into the abyss of his own mind. Emily advised him to continue practicing his breathing, focus on the present, and not lose himself too much in those feelings. However, it made him warier.

More aware of the way his body responds to his thoughts and those memories.

After the incident, he has spent restless nights just scribbling every single detail of the memory. Picking apart the memory feels like tinkering with a broken clock. You only have the vaguest shape of it, yet the basis of it is there, somehow. The shape of the room that he was in, the object his head was struck by, the assailant, everything. He so desperately grasps at those details and finds himself hanging by a thread. The answers he concluded aren’t the ones he’s looking for.

“Fuck!” The curses slip through his tongue constantly through those nights, an exchange for the frustration he felt bubbling in him.

The memory of the place is nothing that he could recognize. He knows that because from observing other guests who have witnessed photographs or have triggers of memory, most of them were able to recognize every detail. His inability to recognize the location says to him that he knows nothing.

The place was nothing but an abandoned room of some sort. Whoever assaulted him in the memory must not want others to discover what they’d done.

Aesop has made it through his life trapped in this limbo state with ease, unhinged by the concept of death nor witnessing some of the bitter goodbyes bid by some of the guests. The second that sense of calmness slowly slips away from the tip of his fingers, he panics. Similarly, to when he first came here. He was ready to embrace death if anything. Now? He's not sure. The more questions come into his head, the more he begins to doubt himself.

Moreover, the stranger. Eli Clark. Has he ever encountered that name before? It seems familiar, but as he picks through his thoughts, to no avail.

Eli Clark. He chants the name in his head, playing a game of mismatch in his mind to see if anything clicks.

"The photograph." Aesop's mind clears up abruptly. The initials on the photograph. What was it? He purges through various papers on his desk, scattering books all over, and letting some display all over the floor. He found it.

A&EC

The initials taunt at Aesop. He keeps staring at it with a blank look. The initials could mean anything, he thinks. However, he doesn’t want to erase the possibility entirely. After all, he reacted rather strongly to the stranger's identity reveal. That must mean something. The man in the photograph, the initials, and everything else. Stupid, stupid initials. The more he thinks about it, he feels so incredibly drained by everything.

As apprehensive as he is about the man, there is a possibility that he could also be someone to him. An acquaintance, maybe? How come he can’t remember it though? How can he not recall who Eli is? That part scares him. Just when he is beginning to remember, just as he finally got over those walls, then suddenly another wall appears before him. Sturdier and stronger than ever. He fears for the worst, but it is the only way of making progress with whatever he has now.

“I’m not sure what else to do, Miss Woods.”

“Just give him time, Mr. Clark. I’m pretty sure he’s just a bit distraught by what has happened.”

“Why are we having this discussion in my kitchen?”

Eli’s day starts with Emma approaching him covered in dirt with a heavy sack over her shoulder. “I’m delivering vegetables for the kitchen! Wanna come along?” She asked him, not sure why but he was intrigued enough to tag along. Somehow, the two of them ended up here on the floor with mouths full of cakes with the chef glaring down at them.

The hotel’s chef, Naib, glares at the two unexpected companies who’ve just been nibbling the cakes in the kitchen. A piercing glare. The two are seated on the floor with both of their legs crossed, going through the plate full of sweets in between them. Almost like two rodents caught red-handed. Emma quickly brushes the glare off with a wave and a simple chuckle.

“Oh, Naib. Don’t be too serious! We should help Mr. Clark. He’s having a bit of a crisis here!” Emma huffs, not even bothering to hide the crumbs around her lips.

“Emma, my patience is running thin. If you come in here to snatch yet another cake-“

“You’ll annihilate me? Burn my tongue? Oh, Mr. Subedar. You have such colourful ways of speaking of your affection! It’s adorable!” Emma smiles, innocently.

“You-“ Naib rolls his eyes, clenching his teeth slightly before letting out a deep sigh. “Fine, do whatever. Just don’t make a fucking mess or I’ll really come for you.”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

Both Emma and Eli give him a salute. The cook brushes it off with a simple ‘tch’. “Mr. Subedar is quite the character,” Eli says quietly before sneaking a bite of the very much stolen goods.

And quite the cook, he wanted to add but he’s too preoccupied on savoring the melting sweetness in his mouth.

“He certainly is! He can be quite crass; he doesn’t think a lot of things through but he’s a good person.” The gardener puts it simply while still earning another glare from the cook from across the kitchen. “I hear that!” His voice echoes, Emma brushes it off with a wave.

“So,” She continues after swallowing another bite. “Mr. Carl has been avoiding you, right?”

Eli nods, placing down his piece of the cake and brushing the crumbs off his hands. He rests his back against the wall, feeling the tingle of the cold surface send down his spine. “I want to apologize personally to him. I’m a little worried after what happened, especially considering it might have something to do with me.” But he’s not entirely sure of that.

“How can you be sure of that?”

“It’s just,” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “The way his face just, fell. It was the second I mentioned my name and I just, I couldn’t.”

Eli shakes his head that’s hung low. Unconsciously, he pats his right shoulder. Both arms crossed over his chest, forming a shield from the discomfort he’s feeling. The sound of the hissing of the frying pan and bubbling heat of the pot echoes to their side of the room. It’s the guilt, he supposes. Seeing Aesop in such a state made me panicked, scared even. As if it had happened before. Perhaps, it was odd for him—a total stranger—to feel this amount of concern for someone he’s just met. But he can’t help it. He can’t possibly ignore something in him that says otherwise.

“It feels like I’ve experienced the same thing before. Seen someone in the same state as he did. Maybe that’s why I’m really panicking right now.” He laughs, devastated.

“A trigger to a memory,” Emma adds. “Witnessing something similar, whether it’d be hearing or seeing something, can trigger a memory. It has happened to some of our guests, so maybe it was that.”

“So, does that mean anyone could’ve done something and it’d trigger a memory in me because it feels familiar?”

“Yes… I think.” Even with that answer, it does not sit right with him. He keeps it to himself, however, so he just nods.

“This memory stuff can be a little hard to swallow. So, I wouldn’t punish myself too much for not getting it, really. I mean, heck. Who asks to be stuck in limbo at this fancy hotel, right?” Emma tries to joke, but it falls on just a slip of laughter.

But Eli continues anyway. “Why a hotel?”

“Beats me!” She raises her shoulders. “I’ve been asking the same thing since I got here. But I’ve learned to just go with the flow.” Her hands imitate that of an ocean wave.

“Better than nothing,” Naib comments.

“I wouldn’t be able to savor your lovely cooking then! That’s a sad thought.”

“Honestly, despite being a hotel, this world is so strange; I mean, I don’t even put the idea of miracles and fate past me at this point. Y’know, all that stuff about destiny, red strings,” Her hand gestures act like strings being tangled, scribbling it on the air, “I mean, I’ve heard so many stories about guests reunited with their loved ones and stuff here. It’s sweet but so sad the more you think about it.” And it’s something that sits with Eli for quite a while. Coincidences, and fate. All that stuff. He never doubts the concept of destiny. He believes it if anything, but that’s not to say the enigma that is the hotel doesn’t surprise him.

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere.”

“No need to apologize, that’s… actually a sentiment I believe in as well. Destiny, fate, and all that.” Eli smiles.

“I guess I’ll have to let destiny and time do its miracle work,” He adds, as a harmless joke. “I don’t think I can do anything besides just… wait,” He lets out a defeated sigh. “Not much I can really do.”

Emma nods slightly at his words before giving him a wide smile. “You did the right thing, Mr. Clark. He’ll talk to you, I’m sure of it. Just be patient.” She places her hand on top of Eli’s as reassurance and Eli appreciates the gesture.

“Thank you, Miss Woods. And please, just call me Eli. Mr. Clark sounds a little too formal for me.”

“Same goes to you! Emma, Em, whatever fits your cup of tea.” Emma says with a gentle tone. A contrast to the cold tile walls behind him, Eli feels comfortable. Suddenly, two plates full of chicken katsu with a side dish of mashed potato, shredded cabbage, and a couple of garnishes sprinkled on the side of the plate. Naib stands over the two with the usual scowl, but he scowls almost all the time. A more gentle scowl, so to speak.

“Eat up. Stop eating cake all the damn time.” He adds before walking away, now brewing something in the kettle.

“This looks delicious, Mr. Subedar! Thank you.” Eli admires the food on the plate before him.

“Naib,” He poured something that looks like leaves into the strain. Seems like tea. “Just call me Naib, it’s fine.”

“No sugar for me!” says Emma, before the cook even asks and sure enough, it earns a gritted teeth look from Naib. Now looking closely, Eli notices that Naib looks annoyed all the time. Regardless of whether Emma’s ready to make a quip against him.

“And you, Clark?”

“Me?”

“How do you like your tea?” Naib pours the hot water through the strain into the kettle.

“Plain,” Eli replies quickly. “I’ve had too much sugar and sweets, I don’t think I can afford to suffer from cavities.”

Naib’s face morphs into annoyance “What are you? 50? Live a little, lose some teeth while you’re at it. How much sugar?”

Of course, Eli quickly succumbs to it. Who can resist a little extra sweetness? Especially when you need it. He’ll wash away the worries about potential diabetes and toothache into the back of his mind. It’s the world of limbo, just how much does diet really matter anyway.

Before he’s able to pour the tea into the cups, the kitchen doors burst open.

“Ma’am, you’re not allowed to enter the kit-”

“Oh, boohoo! Just leave me be, will you? You won’t even let me in the bar and I’m a freaking barmaid. The irony!”

“You took a whole bottle, and this is your third one today.”

The woman squints at the man, “Your point?” Eli hears Naib muttering ‘my fucking kitchen’ under his breath. A familiar look of frustration painted across his face.

A woman with a face slightly flushed followed by a man who Eli doesn’t immediately recognize. She has shoulder-length brown hair, and a defining gray strand, dressed in a flowy white blouse that’s tucked in her knee-length dark brown pants. He’s seen her before around the restaurant and lounge, always holding a bottle in one hand. The heels of her boots click against the tiles of the kitchen floor. Slam! They all jolt, surprised when she sways then drops the upper half of her body on top of the counter. She… passed out?

Naib’s eyes glanced at the man, more like a glare. The man shrugs. “Hey, don’t look at me! She was trying to make her way to the bar, but Vera got angry that bottles are beginning to disappear. I had to lead her somewhere else.”

“And my kitchen is better, how ?”

“I don't know, maybe she’ll mistakenly drink one of those olive oil stuff and stop drinking.”

“Oh, and giving her food poisoning’s your brilliant idea?” The sarcastic tone seethes through Naib’s teeth.

“I did not think that through.”

“Yeah? No kidding!”

“Now, now, you two. Not in front of the guests.” Emma stands up from the floor, patting off the dust off her pants. “I’ll be taking Ms. Bourbon to her room! No, no, Norton, you take a break and have a sip of Naib’s tea. I’ll be fine! I'll be back to finish the lovely lunch you've just made. So, I better not catch anyone snatching anything off that plate.” She waves carelessly at Norton. Before leaving, Emma waves at Eli before leaving the kitchen with a very drunken guest wrapped around her. The kitchen becomes quiet, besides the usual humming coming from the stove or the bubbling sound of water boiling. An awkward silence, really.

“Well, that was quite the show.” Eli tries to cut through the silence with a soft chuckle. He stands up to grab the cup Naib has prepared, but he can sense a heavy gaze on his every move. Norton’s observing him. He’s unsure how, but he feels a presence oozing from him. One that he wouldn’t really say very human-like. Similarly, to Vera, but a little different. With more edge, and gloom perhaps? He’s not sure how to describe it. It’s peculiar really to be able to meet others that aren’t humans, yet they look so similar.

“Thank you for the tea, Mr. Subedar. I have faith that you haven’t put any olive oil in this one!” He tries to jest, which works considering how Naib reacts to it. “Keep talking, Mr. Clark. I’m gonna make you do all the dirty kitchen work if you’re not outta here yet.” Naib sneers which makes Eli laugh a little. At the very least, the air’s a little warmer now yet he still feels tense by the other presence in the room.

Norton leaves the room quietly, glancing at Eli for a moment before slipping through the doors in silence. Eli’s hands are wrapped around the warm surface of the cup. The deep, dark color of the tea barely reflects any light. If he lets himself stare too long, he could feel himself drown in it. The air of mystery lingers still, now with even more questions in this head than before. This hotel is filled to the brim with surprises and mysteries that have yet been solved. Not to mention, mysteries that belong to Eli himself. His own memories, his on past.

He takes a sip of the tea, hoping to dilute these thoughts and break them down into pieces. It is sweet. The taste seeps itself onto Eli’s tongue. The sweetness comes as an after effect. But with a mind filled with many thoughts, the sweetness fades quicker than he realizes.

#identity v #elisop #aesopeli #aesop x eli #aesop carl #eli clark #mystery #supernatural #gothic romance #tasokare hotel au #thriller #romance #hurt & comfort #lots of pining #im trying to learn how to tag #tragic but with a happy ending #runesfactory #tags will be added and updated

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