Elliot hummed quietly to himself as he shadowed Rune around the old family home. He could see the man reacting to his gentle urgings for attention, so he knew that he was getting through at least partially. It seemed as though Rune would be one of those tough nuts to crack, however. He was as stubbornly set in his ways as Elliot had been in life, in fact.<br/><br/>When he was alive the Victorian man had shared a similar pattern of beliefs to Rune. Despite being raised up in a very strictly religious household, as so many were throughout the era in which he lived, Elliot adhered more to an agnostic point of view. He didn’t deny the fact that there was a God, or at least some sort of higher being that played a role in the creation and maintenance of the universe, he simply didn’t believe that his core values lined up with any one religion. In aligning his beliefs with such a dubious point of view he found that he also never believed in any sort of afterlife, at least not until he was trapped within it. Elliot still remembered quite clearly the day that he’d sat his parents down and relayed to them that viewpoints. It hadn’t been a pretty turn of events.<br/><br/><i>“What the fuck do you mean you’re going to be distancing yourself from the church?” </i>His father had snarled. He was a stout man, but clearly a powerful one. Despite the rounded belly he had obtained as he aged he had frighteningly thick arms and a neck as sturdy as a tree trunk. In his youth Elliot had admired the man’s strength, but as he’d sat there staring up at the irate gentleman he’d found himself terrified.<br/><br/><i>“I mean exactly what I said, father. I simply don’t believe that my values line up with that of the church at this point in my life. Perhaps I’ll find my way back into the pews one day, but for now I wish to go my own way and explore the world of my own accord.” </i>Elliot had been around fifteen then, only two years past the death of his mother.<br/><br/><i>“Do you think your mother raised you up to become a heathen, you piece of shit? You really think I’m going to allow some no good filthy pillow biter live under my roof, disrespecting the memory of my Martha?” </i><br/><br/><i>“No, Father … Hence the reason I said I’d like to leave, forge my own path, explore the world and all it has to offer.” </i>He’d received a slap, then, one that sent him reeling across the room and collapsing against the wall behind him.<br/><br/><i>“Don’t you get smart with me, you filthy bastard. You rotten son of Satan. You’ve no place under this roof anymore.” </i><br/><br/>Elliot had left without much of any complaint. Since his mother had passed he’d found living in the presence of his father increasingly unbearable. He’d fled the home with only the belongings he could carry on his back, and he began to wander about the community alone. He didn’t end up remaining lonely for long, however. The reason that the conversation had arisen in the first place was the fact that Mr. Bartholomew Rodgers had walked in on Elliot biting the pillow for another man. The pretty little blonde boy took it upon himself to march himself over to the home of his rather short-term lover and ask him to be his company upon the road. Noah Adam Smith had been his name, and what a beauty he had been. With warm brown eyes that Elliot never had trouble melting into, a smile that could turn the heart of the coldest man into smooth putty, and a body that most seemed to believe was sculpted by God himself as reparation for all of the suffering he’d caused mankind.<br/><br/>Noah had agreed. He and Elliot had set off on the trail that they’d blaze by themselves, for themselves. Elliot couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been happier than those first few months out on his own with his lover at his side, except perhaps a select few moments during his childhood when his mother was present and physically able to be active in his life.<br/><br/>Rune reminded him of Noah, he found as he lingered there behind the flesh and blood gentleman. Though his lover had had short cropped brown hair, and was slightly shorter than the man that stood before him. Their demeanors seemed very similar, the energy that flowed from Rune reminded him explicitly of the one that he’d felt from Noah when he’d initially died and come across the man in his ghostly form. Perhaps this was why Elliot found himself so comfortably drawn to the newcomer despite the agitation he experienced at the shifts that had taken place within his humble abode. Or perhaps it was because unlike so many others before him Rune didn’t approach the house with a sense of unease about him. He seemed perfectly cool, calm, and collected despite Elliot’s presence, and that was rather lovely despite the fact that the spirit could tell that Run wasn’t entirely aware of him just yet.<br/><br/>Elliot followed Rune over to the doorway quietly after the host of movers called out from the doorway. The stood there, each harboring an incredibly uneasy look as they waited just beyond the threshold. They seemed reluctant to enter the newcomers home, and looked mildly relieved when he moved towards the door.<br/><br/>“E-Excuse me, Mr. Halonen? I believe we’ve finished moving all of your things in,” one of them said in a shaky tone, “I believe we agreed on $1500? Will you be paying with cash or credit?”<br/><br/>Elliot frowned thoughtfully as he moved forwards slowly, slipping directly through Rune in the doorway and situating himself just in front of him and watching as the movers began squirming uncomfortably in response to the sudden cool draft that encased them.