Mrs. Coulter (i_gobble) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-04-03 23:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | marisa coulter |
for everything you gain, you lose something else (Narrative)
(Backdated to before the Spring Masquerade)
It was on its last flight. Once, things like people, automobiles, buildings, other winged creatures, or something as simple as the wind did not trouble it any. It soared across the street, on an unreachable height, on an untouchable speed, harboring ill will, cruel intent, and of course, the information it was tasked to collect. It was usually successful, easily through its inconspicuousness and insignificance.
Not until someone recognized it and knew what should be done with it.
And so, depending on one failing mechanical wing, it laboriously flew towards its source, the world suddenly bigger and far more threatening, more so when its poison was already extinguished. Its stinger stuck in a beggar's hand that made a grab for it. Surely he was already dead.
And it will soon be too.
Finally, it slipped through the slim crack of a window, one that was carefully kept open for its arrival, doubtful as it seemed. It was missing for almost a month. But still, there it was, bumping, buzzing low, spinning at minor collisions, landing on its mistress' lamp table. It tried to crawl to her with as much as one working leg but its golden body would move no more. Its body was now its cage, than its aircraft.
Its incessant buzzing woke its mistress from her shallow sleep, but it was the golden monkey who leapt to it and took it in its hand, quickly the fly spilt what it knew, like a venom, before shaking violently. The black hands of the monkey held it firmly as it did so. The woman was already wide awake enough that she was making sharp exclamations, fearful that the monkey would be stung. When the monkey could not control it any more, it cracked the fly open until it was at last, free.
*****
3 AM in the morning, Mrs. Coulter's face was pale against the lamp light. Her eyes were still and unblinking at the golden monkey who held the broken remains of her final spy fly. He had no choice, it would harm them if he did not break it. The spirit must be released.
But what occupied Mrs. Coulter's mind now was not so much her faithful servant's demise, but what it died transmitting.
There was a child and a daemon in the City.
*****
She could not return to sleep anymore. The revelation had sent her on a frenzy. A child and a daemon! That she must live to see this. She nurtured this possibility that, however little it was, in the great lottery of the City, someone from her own world would be find themselves there. As time passed on, the occurrence had only become dreadfully unlikely. Meeting Jake and his animal Oy had only disappointed her. And when it seemed there never will be such another pair as she and the monkey in the City. There they were. There they were.
Yet the fly was not able to disclose anymore, most importantly of the child's whereabouts. Without her spy flies, Mrs. Coulter was blind and helpless.
"There MUST be one in Bolvangar." She insisted as she paced, "We have not searched thoroughly."
At the first crack of dawn, she was dressed in her coats and gloves and was inside a cab. Her mind filled with images and memories of her experimental station, one that regretfully fled when she decided to reside in the City and concentrate her studies in it. She returned to it once in a while, to collect some personal effects and some objects of value that she would sell to continue living indulgently in the City (Usually gifts from her lovers. There were plenty of those). Mrs. Coulter considered returning to live there again, as she focused her attention in locating the child...
But where was the station?
They had been going around in circles, Mrs. Coulter leaned forward to keep a steady eye on the Cityscape, her eyebrows scrunched. It was never difficult to reach Bolvangar. It stuck out as a sore thumb, a great expanse of land with a research complex. After a few turns more, when the golden monkey started to struggle from her grip, she quickly thought of the City Park and the streets swept to reveal its grassy path as quick as a snap.
There she decided to abandon the vehicle and do the walking herself.
She let the monkey free, running on all fours. Her own pace was brisk, as she willed, called, mouthed 'Bolvangar' again and again, ignoring eyes at this woman in skirt and long sleeves, fur collars and knee-high boots, striding purposefully with a golden monkey.
Finally, the path started to clear out from trees, fence, benches...
A smile crept into Mrs. Coulter's lips out of relief, "I knew it. The coach was merely losing us..."
But the path continued to stretch until the grass themselves faded. Until Mrs. Coulter found herself catching her breath, and she realized she had been walking for so long, from the strain on her thighs and calves.
There came a point where she just stopped where she was.
Her surroundings did not change. An empty horizon of ash-colored sky and barren land. It was as if she was at the very beginning and never made any progress. The entire scenery was as still as a painting.
Mrs. Coulter continued to breathe rapidly, until suddenly the monkey darted towards the scenery anew...
"Stop." She found her voice, "It's no use!"
The monkey shot his black piercing eyes at her, his fur of vibrant gold standing in fury.
"I will not go with you. Come back here at once!"
The golden monkey screeched.
"I said stop it!"
Her words came like of lash of a whip, even the monkey winced despite his defiance, but he did not make another move.
"Listen to me." Mrs. Coulter exhaled, her hands formed a roof over her lips. She found herself at a loss of words. She could declare what was fact, but she would not. Saying it would drive a nail on a coffin. And she would not. Not yet. She had been on this struggle for so long.
Sometimes it was necessary to sound a retreat.
She closed her eyes, "We need help."