Harper had been exceptionally surprised when she had gotten her first booking for a therapy session, after she had hung her sign outside the door there in Antiva City -- Harper Flynn, Therapist and Detective for Hire. She had rather assumed that not many in Antiva would leap at the idea of going to someone and talking about what troubled them, but she had found success, for a time, in another city that she purposely would not think about, not since the ringing of the bells had drove her Northbound as fast as she could. So here she was, setting up a new life for her, a new alias, and to be fair she really liked Harper, it had been a stroke of luck -- now maybe she needed to think about taking lessons on the harp and tell everyone it was her mother's dying wish -- that could be fun.
But the sign had hung less than a day, before she had her first appointment, which was due to arrive at any moment. She wasn't too concerned about who it was, either someone there to have a comforting ear, or to hire her to go track someone down and bring them home. I usually happened in that order -- cry about a break up, and then cry about someone skipping out on the marriage and child without a divorce that needed someone to be tracked down successfully to initial either therapy, or divorce papers. Both of these things Harper excelled at, and enjoyed. It was a calling, after all, having spent the bulk of her youth learning her trade at the University in Orlais. Oh, Orlais... maybe one day she'd be able to go back, but for now, Antiva would be home, and she'd be happy there.
As her new client arrived, she ushered them into her office, and offered a plush chair across from another, a small gap between the two, facing one another. She didn't like the idea of a desk, it was a barrier, and could impede real growth and breakthroughs in therapy sessions, so instead, her own plush chair had a small table beside it, where her lap desk sat. Someone tall might have to swing their legs to the side, or sit knee to knee with her, but it allowed an intimacy that helped people open up, and that's what she was there for, after all, wasn't it? To help? So as her client sat, she rested back in her seat, not yet pulling the lapdesk over, she wouldn't need notes for this first meeting, I am Harper, Miss Flynn if you want to be formal, but I prefer to be called Harper, please, and I've been a therapist for over a decade, with formal teaching for Orlais University, and if at any time you wish to stop talking about a topic, or a topic isn't one you'd like to explore today, then just say so, we're not here for uncomfortable yet, we're here to learn a little about one another first, and make sure that we'll be able to work together in a way that is both helpful to you, and meaningful to your growth as a person, I'm so happy to meet you, Mister...
Lustara stepped into the room with a slow, deliberate stride, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure despite the soft ambiance Harper had so carefully curated. His human guise was immaculate: a well-tailored coat draped over his shoulders, dark eyes gleaming with an unnatural light, and a faint smirk playing on his lips. He radiated charm, though there was a faint weight to it, like an ember struggling to ignite into full flame.
He sat in the offered chair, crossing one leg over the other with practiced ease, hands folded neatly in his lap. Harper’s introduction washed over him, her warmth and professionalism noted, catalogued, and for the first time in years, unjudged. This was not a business transaction; this was… something else.
When she finished, leaving the space open for his response, Lustara let the moment hang just a fraction longer than necessary. His smirk widened slightly, a devilish quirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Lustara, he said, his voice smooth and deep, tinged with an accent that couldn’t quite be placed. Though I suspect we’ll need no such formalities. After all, this is where I bare my soul, yes? If I still have one of those lurking about.
He leaned back, his gaze fixed on Harper, searching her face for some flicker of doubt or unease—any sign that she might falter. Finding none, he let out a low chuckle. Forgive me. That was needlessly dramatic, wasn’t it? Force of habit.
Lustara shifted slightly in his seat, fingers drumming against his knee as he spoke again, this time with a faint weariness that softened the edges of his tone. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m… out of practice. People are far easier to read than they are to open up to, you see. And I’ve made a career—well, perhaps “existence” is more accurate—of doing just that. Understanding what drives them, their little hopes and fears, the tiny sparks that make them tick. But what drives me? He paused, lips pressing into a thin line, his smirk faltering for the first time.
That’s the question I can’t seem to answer, Harper. I’ve spent years wearing this mask—this shape—and now I’m not sure what’s underneath. Human, demon… something in between? Perhaps that’s what I’m here to find out. Though I’d wager you’ve never had a client quite like me before, have you?
His gaze was steady now, lacking its earlier playfulness, as though he were daring her to flinch under the weight of his admission. Lustara didn’t need to read her; he wanted to see if she could hold her ground, if she might be someone capable of helping him answer the question he’d been running from for far too long.
Harper raised a brow slightly, she had seen demons take over humans before, but this was entirely different -- the demon seemed to be the only one in there. Curious. That meant that a demon had come seeking her profession, which honestly, didn't really surprise her, not everyone was able to handle parts of life that were difficult, and she imagined that ran a bit deeper for someone who had been non-corporeal for so long. And a patient was a patient, Completely forgiven, I like a bit of the dramatic myself at times, and soul baring is only when you're ready to, if you can find it in the wardrobe and dust it off? She knew it probably wasn't wise to tease a demon, but this one ... Lustara, he seemed to want to be treated as a person, so she would.
She listened to him, nodding along with his words, adding them to her mental map as she watched that smirk falter -- honesty. The demon inside was being honest. That she could appreciate. He wanted actual help, which had to feel humbling, and admitting to wanting help, was entirely on another level. I've not, but that doesn't scare me, or frighten me off taking you on as a client. Everyone has issues, and everyone needs someone to talk to, be the a person, or a demon, or a spirit even. I've never had a spirit client before either. She nodded again.
Thank you for being upfront and honest, I imagine that had to be hard for you, wearing a mask for so long only to unmask for a human, a human who doesn't know you, or what you've gone through before. That's good, a honest and frank start to our relationship is what will help us have meaningful sessions together. Is that part of what you want to work on together? What you are, or more importantly, and more accurately, who you are? It's a question not many people can answer. There are some elves that I know who can't even answer that either, and I know of at least one of them that was alive for what's his face, with the bald head, world is ending, blah blah. She paused a moment, taking in a deep breath.
These are things we can explore together. Whether the mask is needed still, it never will be here, if we're not honest and open with one another then there can be no trust between us, and if there is no trust between us, then we're not working towards what's best for us both, and I gotta tell you, that really annoys me. You're paying me an exorbitant amount of money to help you answer these questions, so if we're not both fully invested in this search, together, then we're going to struggle, and no one wants that.
She leaned forward some, Is there any thing else you're looking for, or are you satisfied that you'll be happier, more well balanced, by answering who you are? The demon was charismatic, she'd give him that, and it wasn't false about the money. She'd need to find his home later and take a personal look though his valuables, that would be a fun time for her. Maybe she'd even close up with only the smallest thing out of place, to let him know she had been there. She was more than capable of leaving not a trace of her presence in her explorations, but, she always found it more satisfying when the client knew she had been there, had seen their secrets, knew of them, and could then hold them accountable to their growth.
And she had a love of thievery -- it was so exhilarating.
Lustara tilted his head slightly as Harper spoke, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his eyes never left hers. The way she addressed him, with a balance of curiosity and professionalism laced with an edge of daring, intrigued him. She didn’t flinch, didn’t cower, didn’t so much as hesitate when faced with his presence. He found that… refreshing.
You’re a curious one, Harper, he said at last, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. I’ve met my share of mortals who fancy themselves fearless, but they’re usually just fools in disguise. You, though… you seem to know exactly what you’re stepping into. And you’re stepping in anyway. Fascinating.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, the charm in his smile softening into something closer to vulnerability. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect such an… earnest reception. Most people run when they see through the mask. Others, well, they try to banish me. You’re the first to ask if I want to explore who I am. He let out a low chuckle, the sound tinged with both amusement and something heavier, a note of weariness beneath the surface.
But yes, I suppose that’s why I’m here. Not to be rid of the mask entirely—I’ve come to enjoy its utility. No, I want to understand what’s underneath it. What’s left of me after centuries of playing at being this, or that, or nothing at all. He paused, his gaze flicking to the corners of the room as though searching for something unseen. It’s… disconcerting, you know. To have existed so long that the lines between what you were, what you are, and what you might become blur together. I don’t even know if there’s a point to trying. But something about your little sign outside caught my attention. “Therapist and Detective for Hire.” Perhaps that’s what I need. Someone to… unravel me. Find the thread that ties it all together.
He straightened, his smile returning, though it didn’t carry its usual weight of mischief. And as for your exorbitant fees? Oh, trust me, darling, I’ve made worse investments. But I do appreciate your candor. Honesty is a rare commodity, even among demons, and I suppose I ought to reward it with some of my own.
Lustara’s expression shifted again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her. You asked if there’s anything else I’m looking for, beyond answering who I am. The truth is… yes. There’s a piece of me—something I’ve lost. I don’t know what it is, or even when I lost it, but I feel the absence like a hole I can’t quite fill. It’s maddening. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s tied to these questions of identity. If finding one will lead to the other. Or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking.
He leaned back in his chair again, exhaling softly, as if the admission had cost him more than he expected. So, there it is. That’s why I’m here, Harper. To answer the question of who I am, and to find whatever it is I’ve lost. And if anyone can help me untangle this mess, I suspect it’s you. After all, he added, his smirk returning, you strike me as someone who knows her way around a good mystery.
Harper, she didn't know why, but being recognized that she was trying to do what was best for her patient, regardless of their back ground, but being seen? Well if just tickled her all sorts of the shade of pink. She could have sworn for a moment there that a demon of pride had somehow wiggled its way into her, even though she knew well and true enough that that was not the case. None of her regular patients noticed it. You don't seem to have anyone else in there, when it comes right down to it? Maybe whomever you're bonded with doesn't want to be alive any more and they made you a deal? Who am I to judge what arrangement you may have going on? That's none of my business when it gets right down to it, you know? You came to me for help. That's what matters, and I took an oath, do no harm, and while I can't always promise that I live up to that outside of my occupation, inside this office I take that oath very seriously.
As he continued she nodded, You've spent so long trying to stay under the noses of those who would immediately take one look at you and try and exorcise and banish you that you've not had the chance for much else, huh? She leaned forward in the chair and held an open hand out for him, And if I can't hunt down where that thread starts, we'll just take a pair of imaginary scissors and cut it and find our own start. She meant the analogy as comforting. But the man was talking about being unraveled and that was concerning to her, she didn't want any damage to come to him, and he had said centuries. Whom ever had been in that body to begin with probably had vacated it a long time ago, ages ago.
Identity is a powerful thing, it's not only a who, but a what to. You are, I'm assuming male, your body is male, but that doesn't mean that's who you are, who and what you are can be in total opposite of one another, and we can figure that out as we go, and if we ever get to a point that I don't think I can help anymore I'll make sure that your secret is kept, and refer you over to a therapist I think will be able to help you with those remaining questions. Our journey together is only what we choose of it.
She raised a brow at his conclusion, she might have to check at some point and figure out if he could read minds or not, because some of his words, struck a little to close, Well, not one to ring my own bells, but you got me dead to rights right there, Lust. She had a feeling this client was going to test her in ways that she herself might actually grow from too at the same time. And that was something that she looked forward to. She waited to see if he took her hand, and if he did, she placed her other atop his, a comforting move, means to build reassurance, and well, it was cheesy, but she always felt she could get the measure of a person by holding their hand.
Lustara’s gaze flicked to Harper’s outstretched hand, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with deliberate grace, he uncrossed his legs and extended his own hand toward hers. His fingers were cool, the grip firm but not overpowering, as though he were testing her resolve through the gesture. When she placed her other hand atop his, his lips curved into a smile—not the smirk he so often wore, but something softer, touched with a flicker of genuine warmth.
Well, aren’t you full of surprises? he murmured, tilting his head slightly as though examining her anew. Most would hesitate before touching a demon, even one as charming as myself. But you, Harper… you’re something different, aren’t you? Brave. Or foolish. Perhaps both.
He let her hold his hand for a moment longer before withdrawing it, leaning back into his chair with a faint sigh. You’re right, of course. I’ve spent so long looking over my shoulder, playing the part, that I’ve never truly paused to consider what lies beneath. And perhaps it’s time I stopped running. After all, even the devil tires of the chase eventually.
Lustara’s gaze softened, though the faint glimmer of mischief never fully left his eyes. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darling. You said it yourself—this is a journey. And while I’m quite certain I’ll test your patience, I’ll do my best to make it worth your while. After all, he added, his tone lightening, you’ve got quite the reputation to maintain. “Therapist and Detective for Hire.” How deliciously audacious.
He paused, then leaned forward again, his expression shifting to something closer to earnest curiosity. Tell me, Harper… you seem to have me all figured out. But what about you? What drives someone like you to hang a sign like that in a city like this? What makes *you* tick?
His smile returned, sharp and playful once more, though his tone carried a thread of genuine interest. If we’re to do this properly, I think it’s only fair I know a little about the woman unraveling my mysteries. Don’t you agree?
