Julian's Descent - (chapter 1-6)

The vellum felt cool under Julian’s fingertips. He had been working on this Fifteenth-century devotional text the entire morning. The scroll was beautifully made. It was a prayer text over 50,000 words long. A truly marvellous piece, but time had not been kind to it, and the edges were badly frayed, the lettering was faded, and some places were almost indecipherable. Julian looked at it through a large table-mounted magnifying glass and painstakingly repainted the lettering with a mixture of mineral colours and ink that mimicked the original writing method. He loved this work - the meticulous patience it demanded - to the valuations he sometimes took on. Those felt… crass. He picked up a pair of tweezers and eased a fragment of brittle paper from the spine. The scent of aged glue and dust rose to meet him, mixing with the smell of dry stone from the basement.

He picked up his smallest brush from the chipped porcelain jar at the end of the table. This one had belonged to Helen. It reminded him of her every time he picked it up. Her smile. Her scent. He sometimes felt like it still lingered in the linen closet. He tried to stop himself from thinking about her. It was too easy to get lost in the past rather than confronting the present, he reminded himself. Easier said than done.

The memories were too strong today. He lost focus; his fingers felt clumsy and thick, and he put the brush down. These two years had been the most lonely in his lifetime. He had convinced himself he could never find another one like her. After over eighteen years, it felt as though they had just begun. Always exploring, finding new and exciting parts of each other.

A memory came to him, unbidden - a hesitant conversation, an awkward exploration of boundaries. Helen had been the one to suggest it, initially. A quiet curiosity in her eyes. What would it be like, Julian? To give up control? He’d denied it, resenting the implication that he needed her to control him.

But the seed had been planted. A strange, forbidden longing had taken root and had only grown since her death. He dismissed it as grief. A perversion of his desire for her. He still wondered why the thought of handing over his agency felt so enticing, often trying to deny it. But the thrill of submission remained in the back of his mind.

He remembered another incident. A late evening, a few weeks before Helen received her diagnosis. She’d worn a white silk robe and had simply looked at him with… assessment. Like he was a thing, being judged.

“Try saying ‘please,’ Julian,” she’d murmured then, holding a glass of wine. It hadn’t really been a demand. It had been a test… A flush crept up his neck. Then Helen had given him a simple command. “Lie down.”

The memory of her doing those things with him was still very… stimulating. And he suddenly felt so lonely. So untouched by anyone.

He forced himself to focus on the manuscript, smoothing a wrinkled page with a flattening tool.

He heard the faint sound of the front door slamming.

“Dad?”

Emily’s voice echoed through the hallway upstairs.

“Yes, Emmy! I’m down here, working.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fine, Emmy.”

“Right.” A pause. He listened to the floorboards creaking above. It sounded like Emily had a guest.

His hand stilled as Emily opened the basement door, stepped down the stairs, and went to hug Julian.

“Nora’s here, helping me with my presentation! That’s cool, right? It’s… getting really good!”

Nora. Emily’s new best friend. They had been inseparable since they enrolled in the art history program at Blackthorn University about two months ago.

She had spoken about her every day at the dinner table.

“She knows a lot about art in the Tudor period. Like, a lot.” She said. “She showed me some stuff online I never would’ve found.”

“Of course she is welcome,” Julian replied. “Should I come up to greet her?”

Emily cringed. “No, Dad. That would be embarrassing.”

“Fine, fine.” He said. Sitting down again.

He snipped a loose thread with a scalpel.

“What sort of stuff did she show you?”

“Oh, you know. Primary sources. Old paintings. Some old letters too. We went to the archive together.”

“Yeah?” Another pause.

Then Emily’s expression changed. “She is so nice, Dad… She asked about Mum today. And she really understood all of my feelings about it.”

Julian’s breath hitched. He and Emily hadn’t spoken about Helen for months. It was too raw for both of them. Each mention felt like reopening the wound.

“What did she understand about it?”

“Just how it feels to lose someone you really care about.”

“Has she lost someone too?”

“Didn’t ask - Oh, she also said you probably miss her a lot, too… But maybe you don’t feel like saying it so much.” Emily’s voice grew timid halfway through her sentence, as if she’d realised she was overstepping.

Julian set the scalpel down with deliberate care, trying not to show how vulnerable he suddenly felt.

He heard footsteps on the staircase and looked up. And there she was at the top of the stairs. Julian had never met her before. Never seen even a photo of her. Never paid attention. But there was something about her. Something timeless. Something special. Pale skin. Dark, almost black irises. Black hair. In a black dress, hair in a ponytail tied with a string made from black leather.

She looked her age, 18. But had to be incredibly intelligent. Her presence felt like someone more knowledgeable than most people twice her age.

“We should start studying soon, Emmy.” She said.

Julian quickly got up. “You must be Nora.” He said, “Emily has told me a lot of great things about you.”

Nora nodded and stepped down the stairs, into the light at his work desk.

“Good to hear.” She said. Julian extended a hand to greet her; she took it and looked straight into his eyes. Julian suddenly felt… baffled. Taken aback by her presence.

“Difficult work?” Her voice was quiet, barely more than a breath.

He turned towards the table, letting her look at the scroll he was working on. “Yes, but very enjoyable.”

“This must be from the Tudor period.” She said, “I recognise this kind; it’s a monk’s scroll from one of the monasteries in the southern part of the country, I would guess.”

She was absolutely correct, and Julian was once again taken aback.

“That is very impressive… Nora. How did you know that?”

Nora shrugged. “I’m quite a history-nerd. One of the perks of being introverted, I assume.” Her vocabulary too was impressive for an 18-year-old.

Emily interjected excitedly, “Don’t be modest, Nora,” then turned to Julian. “She’s a genius, Dad.”

“Pff, no, I’m not.” Nora waved off the praise, like waving off a mosquito, and a silence crept in.

Julian stole a glance at her. She was quite good-looking. Stunning, actually, he thought to himself, and suddenly felt a wave of lust wash over him.

“Emily tells me you’ve been meticulously cataloguing your collection. A rather solitary pursuit, wouldn’t you agree?” She said, peering through the magnifying glass.

What a vocabulary.

He tightened his grip on the table. “I find it rewarding.”

“Rewarding, or…safe?” She paused, letting the question hang in the air.

But truthfully, he found it safe. Yes. Safe from the mess of feeling, the risk of connection. Safe from the ghost of Helen and the unsettling stirrings within himself. Consistency was all that remained.

“I like the routine that it requires.”

“But routine can be…limiting.” She moved closer, her shadow falling across the vellum. He could feel the heat of her presence. “Doesn’t your dad ever crave a little…chaos? A break from the predictable?” She asked Emily. “I don’t think he does.” Emily chuckled.

Nora chuckled too. But she had caught Julian’s gaze. For a moment, she didn’t blink. Just looked straight into his eyes, penetrating his soul.

The memory of Helen and the suggestion of a different power dynamic flickered in his mind. A memory of one of Helen’s books in the bookcase. Venus in Furs. One day it had disappeared. Julian and Helen never spoke about it. Their shy, shared fascination was just a brief, tantalising idea, cut short by her sickness. A lingering what-if.

A faint smile grazed Nora’s lips, then she averted her gaze.

“Well, I think he should get out more,” Nora said to Emily.

Emily interjected. “She is quite a girl, huh, Dad?” She said, sounding rather immature compared to Nora. He nodded and stole another glance at her.

Those eyes.

Nora didn’t say anything. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his wrist. The contact was light, but it sent a jolt through him.

He could almost hear Helen’s voice, soft and challenging, echoing from the past: What would it be like, Julian? Give in, just once. See what happens.

He got up from his work desk a little faster than he wanted. A slight shake of the head.

“Didn’t you two have a presentation you needed to do?”

“Yeah,” Emily replied. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“I’ll come up with some tea for you later,” Julian added. “And dinner’s at six o’clock!”