Morningstar

[CH. 0035] - The Violin

"Love, or the hint of it, isn't something one apologizes for." - Mme Bougie

Nord leaned against the door frame, her eyes following Baal's movements as he meticulously positioned empty glass jars on the freshly built shelves. The wood still carried the scent of fresh lacquer. It was another one of Baal's eccentric requests, and it filled the room with an oddly comforting aroma.

"It's looking good," she commented, her voice echoing softly in the contained space.

Baal glanced over his shoulder, momentarily breaking his concentration. "You think?" he replied, holding a jar out to her. "Care to lend a hand?"

Nord approached, lifting a jar from the crate near Baal's feet. She observed how he had been placing the jars—bottom down, evenly spaced, like little soldiers standing at attention. She mimicked his actions and set the jar beside its neighbours. "So, how does this arrangement work?"

"With Merlin, you mean?" Baal asked, now holding another jar in his hand as if pondering where it should go.

"Yeah. Why's Merlin making deals with you? What's the catch?"

Baal placed the jar he held onto the shelf, aligning it carefully. "Honestly? I'm not sure. The plan is I'll collect his happy memories with these jars when Merlin breathes for the last. What I owe him in return, well, that's still up in the air. And that makes a lot of jars."

Nord looked at him quizzically. "Aren't you worried? What if Merlin asks for something dangerous—or worse?"

"I like the old man," Baal mused, his hands momentarily still. "I think he's lonely. This is his way of not being alone at the end. Clever, really. Death has no need for memories, good or bad."

Just as Nord opened her mouth to reply, "Adamastor said we're ready for the—" her words were interrupted by Baal's sudden change in tone.

"Adamastor?" Baal interjected, a discernible edge to his voice. "That was quick, even for you."

"Baal, you know I need to maintain a peaceful relationship with him. I need him for—"

"But I don't need him. So excuse me if I don't jump for joy when I hear his name," he shot back, placing another jar a bit more forcefully than before. "He hurt you, Nord."

Nord looked at Baal, her voice dropping to a shy whisper. "And I need you."

It was as though a switch flipped in Baal. He turned to face her fully, his guarded expression softening. "You need me?" he asked, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the jars and their arrangements forgotten, if only for a moment.

Nord shifted uncomfortably, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "We've got everything set for the opening except entertainment. Adamastor mentioned you might be able to help, so I thought..." Her voice trailed off as if venturing into uncharted territory.

"Violin," Baal supplied, his voice steady as he continued to place the jars.

"Oh, I didn't know you played," Nord said, surprised and somewhat relieved.

Baal's lips curled into a brief, enigmatic smile. He didn't elaborate.

"So, will you?" Nord pressed.

"I don't have my violin here," he said, setting another jar on the shelf with deliberation.

"Where is it?" she asked, intrigued by yet another layer of Baal she had yet to discover.

"Far away," he replied, pausing to draw a deep breath. "But I can find one. And I'll get someone to play the piano."