Trails of Intertwined Stars: Chapter 74 {Part 1}

~Chapter 142: History Repeating~

Dorian and Basil sat alone in Leora's tuberculosis room, hidden from the rest of the affair.
"That poor girl..." Dorian whispered, tracing the blankets lightly with his finger.
Basil grimaced, looking around the room, sympathetically," She's not in pain anymore, at the very least."
Dorian shook his head.
"You know... nobody's asked where Jiu went..."
Basil glanced at the blonde, his gaze steady.
"Maybe all of it was too much, and he ran away," Basil shrugged his shoulders," After all, we know for a fact they were in love..."
"I can't imagine how sad he must feel, to lose her."
"He and Edward both," Basil murmured, looking around the room.
"The curse is truly gone now, isn't it?"
"As gone as it will ever be. It's taken everything from the Mohan's, and there's nothing left to hurt."
"It's finally at peace."
Basil glanced up at Dorian, and nodded solemnly," Yes, whatever was haunting this place... it's finally at piece."
Basil turned back to what he was doing, moving about drawers. He groaned as one hit his leg.
Dorian frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you doing, anyway?"
"Looking."
"For what? God, Basil! Have a little courtesy, she just died!"
"I'm not thieving!" Basil hissed," I'm just looking for clues...besides, I have more curtsey than that Timothy back there."
Dorian gave a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes, before pausing.
"Clues? What do you mean clues?"
"I've yet to find out," Basil shrugged," I just don't want the bloody police to earn a fortune where I could have."
Dorian sighed loudly," Shameless. You, Basil Hallward, are absolutely shameless."
Basil paused, frowning as his foot bumped into something hard, and covered with a white sheet.
"What's this?"
He leaned down and picked it up, walking over to Dorian with curious eyes. Dorian tilted his head.
"What is it?"
"Feels like a canvas."
"Says the artist."
"Hey, I know a canvas when I feel one, alright!" Basil hissed; defensively.
He gently took off the sheet, revealing an oil painted portrait.

A distant expression, with a cold mystery to it. Staring out onto a field of wild flowers. With sweeping black hair, and galaxy eyes. Basil traced the faint blood stains with his fingers, that had made its mark when Leora's tuberculosis had first hit.
"This..." Dorian's eyes filled with tears, looking at the portrait of Jiu that had never been shown," This was Leora's portrait of him, wasn't it?"
Basil nodded, gravely," Her last piece."
"Should we-?"
Basil nodded," Let's take it. I'd hate for them to auction it. We'll keep it safe. Does your house work?"
"Yes, yes, of course. I'll put it up in the attic, keep it safe. It would be a pity if they sold it. I mean, she literally bled for this work."
Basil nodded, hastily fastening the cloth over the portrait, and standing.
"Come on, let's go...quickly. I'll get a carriage, and we'll go."
Dorian nodded. The two swiftly left the room and hurried down the hall into the foyer. Basil hurriedly grabbed their coats, and fiddled with the lock to open it. Dorian was about to follow, till he paused, glancing behind him at the staircase. His expression turned grim, as he glanced up at the ceiling window; showing the grey skies ahead, that rumbled with the wind, before he looked at the void-like darkness of the staircase.

"What is it?" Basil hissed, glancing around at Dorian.
Dorian stared at it a moment longer, before weakly glancing back at him.
"Nothing, I just...thought I saw something for a moment."
Basil raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head with a groan.
"Come on, quickly, get in the carriage. And be careful with that canvas."
"Yes, yes..."
"You know, I was thinking of doing a portrait like that. Would you mind being my model?"
"Basil, darling; I'd be honoured."
"Ugh, don't say it like that."
Dorian giggled, and they closed the door behind them. From the darkness of the staircase, a young boy watched, his eyebrows furrowed his concentration. It wasn't over yet. Mortals liked to think simply, that all your problems were solved when you died. But that was not true. No, no. This was just the beginning of something much more sinister. The house groaned with the wind, uneasily, and Duncan slowly backed into the darkness. History was repeating. History would continue to repeat. This was not the end. The boy disappeared into the darkness with a scowl. The manor was at peace.