Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
An Evening Flight (July 20)
Star smiled as New Babbage rolled away from the the stern of her airship, The Ulysses. The steady, soothing thrum of the engines was already doing wonders to improve the foul mood that had settled onto her of late. She checked her gauges, satisfied that the airbag was tight-full and put a clamp on the steering column, charting a course out over the deep ocean. She thought she might visit her family in England, how long had it been since she had seen her brother? Or visited her husband's grave?
She moved back through the small ship with a smile, double-checking the hatches and ensuring everything was stowed in case of foul weather.
She was certain this was going to be a marvelous trip.
((OOC: Stargirl's typist is going to be seeking a look at the wilder parts of the world. She will return, eh, in a few weeks (three-ish). She'll miss you all terribly and looks forward to reading about everyone's adventures while she was absent.))
She moved back through the small ship with a smile, double-checking the hatches and ensuring everything was stowed in case of foul weather.
She was certain this was going to be a marvelous trip.
((OOC: Stargirl's typist is going to be seeking a look at the wilder parts of the world. She will return, eh, in a few weeks (three-ish). She'll miss you all terribly and looks forward to reading about everyone's adventures while she was absent.))
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Journal July 2
Journal,
Am I my Clockwinder’s keeper? Goodness, according to most it would seem that I am. Though I’ve not laid eyes on the chap in some time, I have heard the rather disturbing news that his Thursday games with Mr. Underby continue, and that he was indeed seen helping to renovate Mr. Underby’s new piece of property (and I could swear that Mr. Tenk had once said he’d never allow Mr. Underby to own land inside New Babbage!). No good could possibly come of this.
Yet, the reason I haven’t leapt into action and taken to haunting his doorstep is quite simple: the man, the few times I have laid eyes on him, has been more than polite. He’s even offered assistance the one or two times I’ve been caught unawares at the pub and he’s, evidently, had a bit of a chat with the misses, as she’s become suddenly tolerable of late. She’s even allowed Pocket back into her bakery (though, as Maggie grumbled, or rather, as Maggie shrieked in frustration, no good will come of that).
I am sorry that my two bartenders have announced their intention to leave my employment and seek adventure in America. I am caught up in a bit of envy myself, as I’ve had the constant urge to take to the skies (fueled, no doubt, by my complete inability to sleep properly of late, as those peculiar sounds I keep hearing are continually keeping me up at night). But with the Gangplank having been open barely two-months since the fire, and the loss of two employees, I can hardly justify the sudden absence for any length of time that would make taking to the skies a reasonable option. Something truly spectacular would have to draw me away from the city at this point.
I have, at last, laid eyes on the peculiar Mr. Slenderman (as I believe I’ve heard him called). As expected a creature which goes about attempting to possess others had very little interest in me. I was surprised to see it in Clockhaven, given the, ahem, troubles which affect most spirits there. Still, It has been known for its ghosts (there’s a resident one just down the way, in fact), and I suppose Mr. Slenderman is hardly a man, per-se, but some sort of creature. Naturally, I feigned total ignorance as to its nature and kicked myself inwardly for not having gone to find the creature before it arrived on my doorstep!
I told them all I thought it was a new sort of kraken. See? Even when completely exhausted I am still capable of a good joke.
Unfortunately, no one was laughing.
Ah, well. I think I hear some rustling downstairs, must be the first of the evening patrons. I’d bet attend to them now.
~S. MacB.
Am I my Clockwinder’s keeper? Goodness, according to most it would seem that I am. Though I’ve not laid eyes on the chap in some time, I have heard the rather disturbing news that his Thursday games with Mr. Underby continue, and that he was indeed seen helping to renovate Mr. Underby’s new piece of property (and I could swear that Mr. Tenk had once said he’d never allow Mr. Underby to own land inside New Babbage!). No good could possibly come of this.
Yet, the reason I haven’t leapt into action and taken to haunting his doorstep is quite simple: the man, the few times I have laid eyes on him, has been more than polite. He’s even offered assistance the one or two times I’ve been caught unawares at the pub and he’s, evidently, had a bit of a chat with the misses, as she’s become suddenly tolerable of late. She’s even allowed Pocket back into her bakery (though, as Maggie grumbled, or rather, as Maggie shrieked in frustration, no good will come of that).
I am sorry that my two bartenders have announced their intention to leave my employment and seek adventure in America. I am caught up in a bit of envy myself, as I’ve had the constant urge to take to the skies (fueled, no doubt, by my complete inability to sleep properly of late, as those peculiar sounds I keep hearing are continually keeping me up at night). But with the Gangplank having been open barely two-months since the fire, and the loss of two employees, I can hardly justify the sudden absence for any length of time that would make taking to the skies a reasonable option. Something truly spectacular would have to draw me away from the city at this point.
I have, at last, laid eyes on the peculiar Mr. Slenderman (as I believe I’ve heard him called). As expected a creature which goes about attempting to possess others had very little interest in me. I was surprised to see it in Clockhaven, given the, ahem, troubles which affect most spirits there. Still, It has been known for its ghosts (there’s a resident one just down the way, in fact), and I suppose Mr. Slenderman is hardly a man, per-se, but some sort of creature. Naturally, I feigned total ignorance as to its nature and kicked myself inwardly for not having gone to find the creature before it arrived on my doorstep!
I told them all I thought it was a new sort of kraken. See? Even when completely exhausted I am still capable of a good joke.
Unfortunately, no one was laughing.
Ah, well. I think I hear some rustling downstairs, must be the first of the evening patrons. I’d bet attend to them now.
~S. MacB.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
It's So Fun Living with the Underbys (Journal Entry June 15 188X)
Journal,
My mind is chaos, which I why I have not written in you for some time.
Gus continues to be missing. I suspect it is time I now took the hint from fate. A dead husband and a missing fiancé. Whatever is in store for me, I clearly must go it without a partner.
Thankfully I have good friends to make-up for that lack of evening confidant. And Kaylee, as always, is a charming roommate and most evenings Jeddy is around too keep my spirits up. I can say I certainly do not lack for love in my life.
Somehow, though, it doesn’t quite fill-up the dark hole that has formed. But I’ll get through it. Perhaps I should put Kay in charge of the Gangplank for a while and take to the skies, I always feel better when the ground is rolling away from my feet.
Another spot of trouble is this: I cannot sleep.
Well, I could sleep, if the banging would stop. Every evening, just as I’m falling asleep, I’ll start hearing knocking on the walls. It gets louder and louder until finally I am sitting up, wide-awake, trying to figure out what it is. It’ll fade away once I’m awake and later, when I’m just starting to drift-off again, it’ll start all over. It’s happened for the last week at least and the lack of sleep is starting to give me a headache. Perhaps I should have someone check the steam-pipes beneath the Gangplank? Or could it be rats running through the walls?
I cannot imagine what it is. But it is troublesome. It does seem to be another good reason to take to the skies for a little while. I’d say I’ll sleep on it but, dear journal, sleep is rather limited.
In the meantime I've got my hands full with my business. It would appear that something is going on over at the bakery. Mrs. Underby has had a number of poor batches come out and she has come to me demanding restitution in the form of Mr. String being sacked. I've told her that that was a ridiculous notion. Mr. String is a fine employee, reliable, timely and the customers seem to enjoy him a great deal. Also, she could produce no proof that it was Mr. String who had done anything to her bread, particularly when I pointed out that he cannot set foot in her Bakery at the moment.
That woman has quite the temper on her, I'll say that much. But I'll not bow my head to ANYONE, especially an Underby!
One thing which did make me nervous, however. One evening when I was having trouble sleeping I came down to the commons room to have a cup of tea and perhaps read a book and I found Mrs. Underby standing over Mr. String, who was quite asleep and she had something in her hand which, it appeared (as very strange as this sounds),that she was about to put in his mouth. When she saw me she pocketed whatever it was and turned her cold eyes on me.
I loathe her.
"Whatever you were doing, I catch you at it again and I'll take a sledge-hammer to both your ovens without hesitation, got it?" I hissed at her, if I'd had my fur on, I can assure you, It'd be standing on end.
Her reply was the usual snide comment which I cannot even be bothered to write here. It was a mistake to allow her to invest in the Gangplank, however badly I needed the assistance. I don't know why i didn't consider asking Jed or Kay to help me, or even Mayor Tenk, I know he'd've been happy to make a deal with me. But when she spoke to me about it, it seemed the most reasonable answer.
A moment of temporary insanity, surely.
~S.MacB.
My mind is chaos, which I why I have not written in you for some time.
Gus continues to be missing. I suspect it is time I now took the hint from fate. A dead husband and a missing fiancé. Whatever is in store for me, I clearly must go it without a partner.
Thankfully I have good friends to make-up for that lack of evening confidant. And Kaylee, as always, is a charming roommate and most evenings Jeddy is around too keep my spirits up. I can say I certainly do not lack for love in my life.
Somehow, though, it doesn’t quite fill-up the dark hole that has formed. But I’ll get through it. Perhaps I should put Kay in charge of the Gangplank for a while and take to the skies, I always feel better when the ground is rolling away from my feet.
Another spot of trouble is this: I cannot sleep.
Well, I could sleep, if the banging would stop. Every evening, just as I’m falling asleep, I’ll start hearing knocking on the walls. It gets louder and louder until finally I am sitting up, wide-awake, trying to figure out what it is. It’ll fade away once I’m awake and later, when I’m just starting to drift-off again, it’ll start all over. It’s happened for the last week at least and the lack of sleep is starting to give me a headache. Perhaps I should have someone check the steam-pipes beneath the Gangplank? Or could it be rats running through the walls?
I cannot imagine what it is. But it is troublesome. It does seem to be another good reason to take to the skies for a little while. I’d say I’ll sleep on it but, dear journal, sleep is rather limited.
In the meantime I've got my hands full with my business. It would appear that something is going on over at the bakery. Mrs. Underby has had a number of poor batches come out and she has come to me demanding restitution in the form of Mr. String being sacked. I've told her that that was a ridiculous notion. Mr. String is a fine employee, reliable, timely and the customers seem to enjoy him a great deal. Also, she could produce no proof that it was Mr. String who had done anything to her bread, particularly when I pointed out that he cannot set foot in her Bakery at the moment.
That woman has quite the temper on her, I'll say that much. But I'll not bow my head to ANYONE, especially an Underby!
One thing which did make me nervous, however. One evening when I was having trouble sleeping I came down to the commons room to have a cup of tea and perhaps read a book and I found Mrs. Underby standing over Mr. String, who was quite asleep and she had something in her hand which, it appeared (as very strange as this sounds),that she was about to put in his mouth. When she saw me she pocketed whatever it was and turned her cold eyes on me.
I loathe her.
"Whatever you were doing, I catch you at it again and I'll take a sledge-hammer to both your ovens without hesitation, got it?" I hissed at her, if I'd had my fur on, I can assure you, It'd be standing on end.
Her reply was the usual snide comment which I cannot even be bothered to write here. It was a mistake to allow her to invest in the Gangplank, however badly I needed the assistance. I don't know why i didn't consider asking Jed or Kay to help me, or even Mayor Tenk, I know he'd've been happy to make a deal with me. But when she spoke to me about it, it seemed the most reasonable answer.
A moment of temporary insanity, surely.
~S.MacB.
Preparing for the Voyage Out
Star signed one last sheet of paper, folded it over and sealed it in an envelope and put it with the stack to be taken with the morning mail, then rolled the door of her desk shut, locked it and started talking at Kaylee, "Okay, I’ll be back Sunday evening, or Monday afternoon at the latest. That’s only if the weather is bad. Ulysses is a fine old bird, but she doesn’t do well in a headwind and I can’t tell what the weather is going to do.” She looked to the west, frowning, “Sky was red this evening, so that’s a good sign…Mr. Pocket, I’m sure, will do a fine job for you.” She cast a glance around the pub, as if looking for something she was missing.
Finding nothing, she turned back to Kaylee, “Should be enough ale for now, I’ve got a large order coming in Monday or Tuesday. Mrs. Underby is supposed to have workers in. Don’t let her workers on this side of the archway, they’ve got no business here of any sort.” She pointed at the archway, the view beyond was obscured by the closed curtains, though a soft tapping of heels and the faint sound of tuneless humming indicated that the woman was in residence.
“She gives me the creeps.” Star muttered.
“Me too,” Kaylee whispered, “Why is she building her bakery here?”
“I…” Star paused, squinting her eyes in thought, “mmm, I can’t explain it. I would have had the old ovens torn out and that room turned into storage, or a damp sort of apartment, but she was…ah, convincing I suppose in arguing for their restoration. That whole conversation is a bit blurry…” she shook her head and swung a short-cape around her shoulders, pinning it at the throat. It was certainly warming toward summer here in New Babbage, but the nights could still be quite bitter, and it was a long walk to the air dock.
She picked up her bag and turned just as a bleary, freshly-woken Mr. String appeared, “Ah! Hullo Mr. String, I have the utmost confidence in your abilities. Do remember what I said, sir,” She lowered her voice and leaned close to him, “Though, of course, if anyone bullies Miss Kaylee in my absence, I give you permission to toss them out on their ear. In fact, I encourage it.”
She started toward the door, paused to straighten a chair and eyed the wood stack next to the fireplace, “The wine isn’t in yet, but there’s plenty of absinthe. I’m sure there’s enough wood in the building, and, ah, I expect the masons will be round to repair those windows upstairs, I gave you extra keys, yes? Bills should all be paid, the last of them are with the mail, do be sure that the courier picks those up in the morning, a lot of creditors are not happy to be doing business with the ‘Plank again and I don’t want anything arriving late. Do you suppose we have enough…..”
“Star!” Kaylee interrupted with a laugh, “You’re only going to be gone three days, I think we can handle this.”
“Right,” Star sighed, “Right, sorry, just anxious.” She pulled the door open, “Oh, Kaylee?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to burn the place down.”
Kaylee laughed, “No promises. Now go!”
With a final wave Star snapped the door shut behind her, took a deep breath, and started walking toward the air dock.
((I am going on a minibreak holiday with my husband this weekend and will not have access to internet, so will be doing some of those writing projects I’ve been ignoring. Have fun at the ball and Music Appriciation. And, Oh! There’s a new resident at the old Macbain plot in Palisades, do give him a warm welcome! {yes, ladies, quick! Get to him before he joins the New Babbage “Men who don’t dance” club!}))
Finding nothing, she turned back to Kaylee, “Should be enough ale for now, I’ve got a large order coming in Monday or Tuesday. Mrs. Underby is supposed to have workers in. Don’t let her workers on this side of the archway, they’ve got no business here of any sort.” She pointed at the archway, the view beyond was obscured by the closed curtains, though a soft tapping of heels and the faint sound of tuneless humming indicated that the woman was in residence.
“She gives me the creeps.” Star muttered.
“Me too,” Kaylee whispered, “Why is she building her bakery here?”
“I…” Star paused, squinting her eyes in thought, “mmm, I can’t explain it. I would have had the old ovens torn out and that room turned into storage, or a damp sort of apartment, but she was…ah, convincing I suppose in arguing for their restoration. That whole conversation is a bit blurry…” she shook her head and swung a short-cape around her shoulders, pinning it at the throat. It was certainly warming toward summer here in New Babbage, but the nights could still be quite bitter, and it was a long walk to the air dock.
She picked up her bag and turned just as a bleary, freshly-woken Mr. String appeared, “Ah! Hullo Mr. String, I have the utmost confidence in your abilities. Do remember what I said, sir,” She lowered her voice and leaned close to him, “Though, of course, if anyone bullies Miss Kaylee in my absence, I give you permission to toss them out on their ear. In fact, I encourage it.”
She started toward the door, paused to straighten a chair and eyed the wood stack next to the fireplace, “The wine isn’t in yet, but there’s plenty of absinthe. I’m sure there’s enough wood in the building, and, ah, I expect the masons will be round to repair those windows upstairs, I gave you extra keys, yes? Bills should all be paid, the last of them are with the mail, do be sure that the courier picks those up in the morning, a lot of creditors are not happy to be doing business with the ‘Plank again and I don’t want anything arriving late. Do you suppose we have enough…..”
“Star!” Kaylee interrupted with a laugh, “You’re only going to be gone three days, I think we can handle this.”
“Right,” Star sighed, “Right, sorry, just anxious.” She pulled the door open, “Oh, Kaylee?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to burn the place down.”
Kaylee laughed, “No promises. Now go!”
With a final wave Star snapped the door shut behind her, took a deep breath, and started walking toward the air dock.
((I am going on a minibreak holiday with my husband this weekend and will not have access to internet, so will be doing some of those writing projects I’ve been ignoring. Have fun at the ball and Music Appriciation. And, Oh! There’s a new resident at the old Macbain plot in Palisades, do give him a warm welcome! {yes, ladies, quick! Get to him before he joins the New Babbage “Men who don’t dance” club!}))
Journal March the Third
Dear Journal,
Yesterday I was up quite early, making my tea and breakfast and when I went upstairs to eat it who should I discover in my flower box but Pip!
Oh! It was good to see him, though the poor thing is hardly more than skin and bones. Pip was very straightforward with me as to his reasons for being there: he had been sent by Mr. Underby to spy. Granted, he told me that after he had asked me a very curious question about my other half, but I’m sure I didn’t give him anything too useful.
Of course, I shall take his warnings to heart (I wonder if the Underbys are quite aware of his little habit of undermining them? I shan’t ever tell.). Though, I cannot see, with Mr. Underby gone, how much trouble that wife of his could possibly be.
Never-the-less, I shall let Kaylee know what Pip has told me. It’ll only make her more nervous, I fear, but it’s better than letting something catch us off-guard.
~S. MacB.
Yesterday I was up quite early, making my tea and breakfast and when I went upstairs to eat it who should I discover in my flower box but Pip!
Oh! It was good to see him, though the poor thing is hardly more than skin and bones. Pip was very straightforward with me as to his reasons for being there: he had been sent by Mr. Underby to spy. Granted, he told me that after he had asked me a very curious question about my other half, but I’m sure I didn’t give him anything too useful.
Of course, I shall take his warnings to heart (I wonder if the Underbys are quite aware of his little habit of undermining them? I shan’t ever tell.). Though, I cannot see, with Mr. Underby gone, how much trouble that wife of his could possibly be.
Never-the-less, I shall let Kaylee know what Pip has told me. It’ll only make her more nervous, I fear, but it’s better than letting something catch us off-guard.
~S. MacB.
Refueling (Journal Entry April 14)
Dear Journal,
I'm afraid i've not written much in the wake of the "Underby Incident" as I'm starting to think of it as.
You'll have to forgive me.
Spring is always terribly busy for me. For one thing it means de-mothballing Ulysses and making contacts with my summer employers. This year the Ulysses required more work than usual. The hard winter had driven mice into her and it made a royal mess of the wires. Fortunately I know my ship like I know my favorite pair of shoes, so I managed to get it all repaired in good time.
What was amusing was how little the shipyard workers trusted me to be doing the work. I have, it turns out, managed to maintain exactly the reputation I was hoping to have. Granted, dockside tongues wag like no others, so I expect some of the veneer to wear off as a result.
But there is no stopping it if it happens, and I cannot worry about it. Fortunately very few actually look at me very closely so they are unlikely to notice the grease which has gotten stuck beneath my fingernails. Even the Clockwinder has scarcely been around and my roommate is quite busy on her own various projects.
I went on the first deliveries this weekend, all were quite successful. Daniel says he is setting aside some delicate matters for me to handle. I'm quite looking forward to the work.
Well, I've finished my tea so I'd best get on my way again.
~S.MacB.
I'm afraid i've not written much in the wake of the "Underby Incident" as I'm starting to think of it as.
You'll have to forgive me.
Spring is always terribly busy for me. For one thing it means de-mothballing Ulysses and making contacts with my summer employers. This year the Ulysses required more work than usual. The hard winter had driven mice into her and it made a royal mess of the wires. Fortunately I know my ship like I know my favorite pair of shoes, so I managed to get it all repaired in good time.
What was amusing was how little the shipyard workers trusted me to be doing the work. I have, it turns out, managed to maintain exactly the reputation I was hoping to have. Granted, dockside tongues wag like no others, so I expect some of the veneer to wear off as a result.
But there is no stopping it if it happens, and I cannot worry about it. Fortunately very few actually look at me very closely so they are unlikely to notice the grease which has gotten stuck beneath my fingernails. Even the Clockwinder has scarcely been around and my roommate is quite busy on her own various projects.
I went on the first deliveries this weekend, all were quite successful. Daniel says he is setting aside some delicate matters for me to handle. I'm quite looking forward to the work.
Well, I've finished my tea so I'd best get on my way again.
~S.MacB.
Mr Underby Pays a Visit
((I know I usually do these as "journals" but it's a bit hard to write a journal entry about yourself when you are not yourself...so short story format it is! Um, just for those of you joining us late: Kaylee & Star have had their bodies switched arounds. So, if you see the "I" voice, it's star, but in kay's body, and if you see Kaylee speaking, that's kay speaking in Star's body. Makes sense, right? right. Oh, and blah-d-blah here about this being IC information which your characters would only know if they've had an encounter with Kay & Star whilest they are going through this. ))
“I think this arm is getting stiff,” I complained, stretching out the mechanical left arm which, somehow, still managed to feel like it belonged to someone else. Some mornings as I was waking I would forget what had happened and relive, all over again, the horror of discovering my missing limbs. When that happened I simply repeated “it’s temporary” over and over in my head until it became a sort of mantra.
We will fix it.
“Here, let me have a look,” Kaylee crossed the room and grabbed the arm expertly.
If it was disconcerting to look in the mirror and discover you were someone else, it was twice as disconcerting to watch yourself walk toward yourself and then take your hand and do something you yourself would never manage. Kay was all concentration, the cat-ears pinned beneath an over-sized hat, trying to muffle the noise.
It had not been so very long ago that I had had to figure out how to sort all the noise that came with a pair of extra-sensitive ears into understandable sounds, so I understood how she felt. And, frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to get used to it. Getting used to it would mean we weren’t going to find a way to fix this.
And we are going to find a way to fix this.
“Any news from Gus? About the Machine?” Kay asked, adjusting a bolt on the hand.
“No, He’s not been by the last few days. But I’m sure it’ll work.” I assured her.
“I hope so, he’s a doctor, not a mechanic.”
“It has to be better than letting Grendel slice our heads open, right?”
“What was that?” Kay jerked suddenly, looking toward the street.
“What was what?” Star asked, following her gaze but hearing nothing.
“Must have been nothing, probably just that factory.” Kay turned back to the hand.
“You need to learn to use those ears, we are sitting ducks here.”
“It’s too noisy, and I don’t plan on getting used to this body. I want my strength back.” Kay jerked in surprise again, yanking on the arm inadvertently, causing me to yelp in pain. “Someone’s knocking on the door.”
“Yeah, I heard. You’re me, go answer it.” I gestured with my good hand. She gave me a look and hurried down the stairs to answer the door.
“Ah, Er, Mr. Underby…” She said, her voice tense.
“It’s Mr. Underby?” I called, lumbering to my feet.
“What are you doing answering the door?” He demanded, his voice cold and somewhat amused.
“This is, erm, my house!” She tried to sound indignant, she was trying to sound like me, I realized.
“No, it is not your house,” He caught sight of me walking up behind Kay (how very strange to walk up behind your own back!), “It is her house.”
I shouldered Kay gently aside, letting her move behind me. He took a step back, Boris was hovering over his shoulder as usual. Eying Kay, I wasn’t sure how she’d react if he tried to make a move at her, I stepped into his line of sight.
“You.”
Mr. Underby smiled, “Yes, dear.”
“Dear?” I managed an indignant squeak.
“Did you think you could get away with that sort of nonsense, without any reward?” He asked, He looked triumphant.
I was furious, I glanced over my shoulder at Kay, “Oh good, he’s come to taunt us. Theory Confirmed.” I put on my haughtiest tone, two could play this game, I’d not let him win the upper hand, “Do go on, Mr. Underby, make your demands so we can be done with this little trick of yours.”
He smiled, “Demands? I have no demands to make of you.”
I had sworn I wouldn’t let him wrong-foot me, but that statement did it, “Then, you’ve had your fun. Undo this.”
He turned and looked at Boris and smiled, as if they were sharing in a private joke, “Oh, I think not, Miss Macbain. Think of this as an updated form of the tar and feathering. You are now a living warning to others not to trifle with me.”
I put on my best sneer, “I think you will undo this, or I shall be sure that you are very, very sorry that you didn’t,” I leaned casually against the doorway, “Even if you don’t, do you think we won’t find a way to fix this?”
He didn’t rise to the occasion, “Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”
“You’re wrong.”
He laughed.
“You will fix this.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll have no reason to leave you in peace.” I stepped out of the house, forcing him back against his bodyguard.
It was his turn to scoff, “Are you suggesting that, up until now, you have left me in peace? I do believe I’ll take my chances.” He smirked at me, so confident that we could do nothing to him.
I couldn’t resist, I extended my mechanical arm, letting the metal catch the watery sunshine, “Do you know, Mr. Underby, that I can bend a train rail with this?”
That did it, he stiffened, “Is that a….threat.”
I heard Kay let out a little mew of fear, “Star…”
I held up my hand to stop her from saying anything, “It’s just an observation, Mr. Underby, nothing more.”
His eyes came alive with fury, “I could pull you apart atom. by. atom.”
I raised my eyes to the sky as if he were a particularly annoying child, “I am trying to be afraid, I really am.”
“You think I jest?” His agitation seemed to be growing,
“I think,” I said with perfect honesty, “that you are messing with things you don’t really understand. You can’t imagine that a trick this big has gone unnoticed?”
This seemed to confuse him properly, “Why would I want it to go unnoticed? You misconstrue my intention.”
“It’s not the people of the town that I mean, Mr. Underby. I just hope your goddess doesn’t have enemies.” I got the charming satisfaction of seeing him completely flummoxed.
“My…goddess?”
“Aye.”
“Explain yourself.”
“A servant such as yourself must be starting to attract attention.”
He laughed, “You believe that Nonsense?”
“Doesn’t matter what I believe, matters what you believe lovey.”
“I don’t believe.”
I managed an effective snort, “Well, we don’t believe in being intimidated. So go try to frighten someone else, Mr. Underby, we are both tiring of your games.”
He tilted his head in a mock-bow, “We shall see, miss. After time you may come around. Time will tell.”
I shouldn’t have risen to the bait, but I did, “Come around to what?”
“Well now, that would be telling.”
“We-we’ve already got a solution to this, you know.”
He turned away from me, “I’m very sure you do. Come away now Boris.”
Boris was staring at me, but reluctantly turned to follow his employer. I glared after them, then slammed the door shut and turned to look at Kay, who was sagging against the wall.
“You all right?”
She nodded weakly, “Er, yeah.”
I took her by the elbow, “C’mon, lets sit you down. You look shaky…”
We both sank down onto the sofas, I hadn’t realized how must I had started to shake as soon as he was out of sight, my heart was racing so fast it made my head throb.
“You don’t think he could really do that, do you? What he said…” Kay had turned in her seat to look the direction he had walked, as if she expected to be able to see him still.
I put my hands over my face, trying to fight down panic, “Of course he can, hell, he already switched our bloody minds. Who knows what else he can do?” I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth, “But we are not going to let him know we are afraid, because that would be him winning. Fear is how his kind wins.”
She shook her head, it was strange to hear my own voice sound so hopeless, “But what can we do? If he can do things like that? How can we possibly beat someone like that?”
I shook my head and looked down at my mismatched hands, “He has a weakness, we just need to find it.”
“I think this arm is getting stiff,” I complained, stretching out the mechanical left arm which, somehow, still managed to feel like it belonged to someone else. Some mornings as I was waking I would forget what had happened and relive, all over again, the horror of discovering my missing limbs. When that happened I simply repeated “it’s temporary” over and over in my head until it became a sort of mantra.
We will fix it.
“Here, let me have a look,” Kaylee crossed the room and grabbed the arm expertly.
If it was disconcerting to look in the mirror and discover you were someone else, it was twice as disconcerting to watch yourself walk toward yourself and then take your hand and do something you yourself would never manage. Kay was all concentration, the cat-ears pinned beneath an over-sized hat, trying to muffle the noise.
It had not been so very long ago that I had had to figure out how to sort all the noise that came with a pair of extra-sensitive ears into understandable sounds, so I understood how she felt. And, frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to get used to it. Getting used to it would mean we weren’t going to find a way to fix this.
And we are going to find a way to fix this.
“Any news from Gus? About the Machine?” Kay asked, adjusting a bolt on the hand.
“No, He’s not been by the last few days. But I’m sure it’ll work.” I assured her.
“I hope so, he’s a doctor, not a mechanic.”
“It has to be better than letting Grendel slice our heads open, right?”
“What was that?” Kay jerked suddenly, looking toward the street.
“What was what?” Star asked, following her gaze but hearing nothing.
“Must have been nothing, probably just that factory.” Kay turned back to the hand.
“You need to learn to use those ears, we are sitting ducks here.”
“It’s too noisy, and I don’t plan on getting used to this body. I want my strength back.” Kay jerked in surprise again, yanking on the arm inadvertently, causing me to yelp in pain. “Someone’s knocking on the door.”
“Yeah, I heard. You’re me, go answer it.” I gestured with my good hand. She gave me a look and hurried down the stairs to answer the door.
“Ah, Er, Mr. Underby…” She said, her voice tense.
“It’s Mr. Underby?” I called, lumbering to my feet.
“What are you doing answering the door?” He demanded, his voice cold and somewhat amused.
“This is, erm, my house!” She tried to sound indignant, she was trying to sound like me, I realized.
“No, it is not your house,” He caught sight of me walking up behind Kay (how very strange to walk up behind your own back!), “It is her house.”
I shouldered Kay gently aside, letting her move behind me. He took a step back, Boris was hovering over his shoulder as usual. Eying Kay, I wasn’t sure how she’d react if he tried to make a move at her, I stepped into his line of sight.
“You.”
Mr. Underby smiled, “Yes, dear.”
“Dear?” I managed an indignant squeak.
“Did you think you could get away with that sort of nonsense, without any reward?” He asked, He looked triumphant.
I was furious, I glanced over my shoulder at Kay, “Oh good, he’s come to taunt us. Theory Confirmed.” I put on my haughtiest tone, two could play this game, I’d not let him win the upper hand, “Do go on, Mr. Underby, make your demands so we can be done with this little trick of yours.”
He smiled, “Demands? I have no demands to make of you.”
I had sworn I wouldn’t let him wrong-foot me, but that statement did it, “Then, you’ve had your fun. Undo this.”
He turned and looked at Boris and smiled, as if they were sharing in a private joke, “Oh, I think not, Miss Macbain. Think of this as an updated form of the tar and feathering. You are now a living warning to others not to trifle with me.”
I put on my best sneer, “I think you will undo this, or I shall be sure that you are very, very sorry that you didn’t,” I leaned casually against the doorway, “Even if you don’t, do you think we won’t find a way to fix this?”
He didn’t rise to the occasion, “Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”
“You’re wrong.”
He laughed.
“You will fix this.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll have no reason to leave you in peace.” I stepped out of the house, forcing him back against his bodyguard.
It was his turn to scoff, “Are you suggesting that, up until now, you have left me in peace? I do believe I’ll take my chances.” He smirked at me, so confident that we could do nothing to him.
I couldn’t resist, I extended my mechanical arm, letting the metal catch the watery sunshine, “Do you know, Mr. Underby, that I can bend a train rail with this?”
That did it, he stiffened, “Is that a….threat.”
I heard Kay let out a little mew of fear, “Star…”
I held up my hand to stop her from saying anything, “It’s just an observation, Mr. Underby, nothing more.”
His eyes came alive with fury, “I could pull you apart atom. by. atom.”
I raised my eyes to the sky as if he were a particularly annoying child, “I am trying to be afraid, I really am.”
“You think I jest?” His agitation seemed to be growing,
“I think,” I said with perfect honesty, “that you are messing with things you don’t really understand. You can’t imagine that a trick this big has gone unnoticed?”
This seemed to confuse him properly, “Why would I want it to go unnoticed? You misconstrue my intention.”
“It’s not the people of the town that I mean, Mr. Underby. I just hope your goddess doesn’t have enemies.” I got the charming satisfaction of seeing him completely flummoxed.
“My…goddess?”
“Aye.”
“Explain yourself.”
“A servant such as yourself must be starting to attract attention.”
He laughed, “You believe that Nonsense?”
“Doesn’t matter what I believe, matters what you believe lovey.”
“I don’t believe.”
I managed an effective snort, “Well, we don’t believe in being intimidated. So go try to frighten someone else, Mr. Underby, we are both tiring of your games.”
He tilted his head in a mock-bow, “We shall see, miss. After time you may come around. Time will tell.”
I shouldn’t have risen to the bait, but I did, “Come around to what?”
“Well now, that would be telling.”
“We-we’ve already got a solution to this, you know.”
He turned away from me, “I’m very sure you do. Come away now Boris.”
Boris was staring at me, but reluctantly turned to follow his employer. I glared after them, then slammed the door shut and turned to look at Kay, who was sagging against the wall.
“You all right?”
She nodded weakly, “Er, yeah.”
I took her by the elbow, “C’mon, lets sit you down. You look shaky…”
We both sank down onto the sofas, I hadn’t realized how must I had started to shake as soon as he was out of sight, my heart was racing so fast it made my head throb.
“You don’t think he could really do that, do you? What he said…” Kay had turned in her seat to look the direction he had walked, as if she expected to be able to see him still.
I put my hands over my face, trying to fight down panic, “Of course he can, hell, he already switched our bloody minds. Who knows what else he can do?” I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth, “But we are not going to let him know we are afraid, because that would be him winning. Fear is how his kind wins.”
She shook her head, it was strange to hear my own voice sound so hopeless, “But what can we do? If he can do things like that? How can we possibly beat someone like that?”
I shook my head and looked down at my mismatched hands, “He has a weakness, we just need to find it.”
Private Journal Entry March 5
Journal,
I have not known what to write here and so I have kept my silence these past few days.
I suppose that part of it is that I do not wish to write in my journal with others looking on, even if it is just Kaylee, and it is rather difficult to write when one has only one hand.
Where to begin, honestly?
A few mornings ago I woke up...well...I woke up and I was Kaylee, there is no other way to say it. That is to say, I suppose, that I, whatever I am, am inside of Kaylee's body and she is in mine.
We are, neither of us, pleased with this situation. I feel as though I've gone deaf, normal human hearing is significantly inferior to the ears I am used to, she feels as though her whole head has been filled with noise (I remember that feeling well, so I can empathize). I'm missing and arm and a leg, I am completely dependent on her to help me get them on and off at night.
At first we were trying to dress like each other, to maintain appearances. But neither of us was happy. I think our preferred clothes are the last thing we have which seems normal. In public we try to mimic each other's personality, which is keeping some of the suspicion to a minimum. Only two people in town, I believe, as of this moment, know for certain.
One is Dr. Dayafter (he knows me far to well to have been fooled for long) and the other is, naturally, Mr. Tenk.
Mr. Tenk, I swear, has taken mad. He was convinced that *I* had done this to us! Honestly, if I had that sort of power Mr. Underby would have been gone the first time he looked sideways at me!
Of course, Mr. Underby is prime on our lists of suspects. But I'll be dragged through town behind a horse before I'll go anywhere near that man.
Not after this, if this was indeed him, just the thought of him makes me sick to my stomach and dizzy with fear, though I've done my best to not let Kaylee know. She's already so afraid as it is.
Given that that snake of a man has not shown his face around our house, we have been investigating other ways to put ourselves back-to-rights, as it were.
Kaylee thinks we should just have Grendel cut open our heads and switch our brains, though I am reluctant. I do trust, and have trusted, Grendel with my life, but lately he seems a touch unstable. I think the most recent experiment has put too much stress on him.
I, on the other hand, am supporting Gus in his investigation into a machine he's heard rumors of which can switch minds between bodies. He has emphasized the danger inherent, but, truly, is it any more dangerous than having the tops of our heads lobbed off?
No.
And I will not set one foot near Old Bridge.
I don't care how intolerable the whole thing is.
~S. MacB.
I have not known what to write here and so I have kept my silence these past few days.
I suppose that part of it is that I do not wish to write in my journal with others looking on, even if it is just Kaylee, and it is rather difficult to write when one has only one hand.
Where to begin, honestly?
A few mornings ago I woke up...well...I woke up and I was Kaylee, there is no other way to say it. That is to say, I suppose, that I, whatever I am, am inside of Kaylee's body and she is in mine.
We are, neither of us, pleased with this situation. I feel as though I've gone deaf, normal human hearing is significantly inferior to the ears I am used to, she feels as though her whole head has been filled with noise (I remember that feeling well, so I can empathize). I'm missing and arm and a leg, I am completely dependent on her to help me get them on and off at night.
At first we were trying to dress like each other, to maintain appearances. But neither of us was happy. I think our preferred clothes are the last thing we have which seems normal. In public we try to mimic each other's personality, which is keeping some of the suspicion to a minimum. Only two people in town, I believe, as of this moment, know for certain.
One is Dr. Dayafter (he knows me far to well to have been fooled for long) and the other is, naturally, Mr. Tenk.
Mr. Tenk, I swear, has taken mad. He was convinced that *I* had done this to us! Honestly, if I had that sort of power Mr. Underby would have been gone the first time he looked sideways at me!
Of course, Mr. Underby is prime on our lists of suspects. But I'll be dragged through town behind a horse before I'll go anywhere near that man.
Not after this, if this was indeed him, just the thought of him makes me sick to my stomach and dizzy with fear, though I've done my best to not let Kaylee know. She's already so afraid as it is.
Given that that snake of a man has not shown his face around our house, we have been investigating other ways to put ourselves back-to-rights, as it were.
Kaylee thinks we should just have Grendel cut open our heads and switch our brains, though I am reluctant. I do trust, and have trusted, Grendel with my life, but lately he seems a touch unstable. I think the most recent experiment has put too much stress on him.
I, on the other hand, am supporting Gus in his investigation into a machine he's heard rumors of which can switch minds between bodies. He has emphasized the danger inherent, but, truly, is it any more dangerous than having the tops of our heads lobbed off?
No.
And I will not set one foot near Old Bridge.
I don't care how intolerable the whole thing is.
~S. MacB.
A New Roomate (Journal February 19)
Journal,
I am unsure how to write here what has happened over the last few days, but I shall do my best.
I believe it begins with me suggesting to Miss Kaylee Frye that I wanted to learn to do a little work around the house. She was quick to break out a whip and start taunting me to build faster show her support and has assisted me as I laid brick, worked metal and re-papered walls. Needless to say we have become fast friends.
I realize the nature of our friendship would change rapidly if she ever discovered my little talent, especially given her phobias. I can only hope to keep it hidden from her as effortlessly as I've kept it hidden from the rest of the town.
Even Dr. Dayafter doesn't know about my other face.
For one thing the crow-that-was-not-a-crow has escaped from his prison. Oh yes, dear Journal, just when we were convinced of our own safety, Mr. Underby comes seeping out of the woodwork like a fungus.
Kaylee and I heard of it first when we went to the Gangplank for a pint together after a long day of laying around the house pestering one another work. Young Mr. Skute mentioned that he had seen Mr. Underby only hours before and as soon as we were certain that he was certain that he had seen that old spook Kaylee took off to find Mr. Tenk. Naturally, I followed her.
Our worst fears were confirmed when we went up to Mr. Tenk's and discovered the cage, torn apart as if pushed open from the inside. Kaylee....did not react well. She kept insisting that she needed to go find someplace to hide, but I couldn't stand the idea of her cowering in some dark hole somewhere, so I insisted that she put a bed up for herself in the attic, which we did.
I am hoping, of course, that Mr. Underby would be unlikely to retaliate toward her if she is around other people. Safety in numbers, if you will.
As has become the habit at Macbain house people began to gather in my living room as evening approached. It was the usual suspects and I could see Kaylee starting to forget her worries and let mine slip away too. With Tinus, Gus, Victor and Tenk in the room it's hard to imagine that anything bad will happen, I mean, the force of Gus's ego alone should repulse any attacks.......
That was, of course, when Mr. Underby came knocking.
He claimed he was looking for Pip (Honestly, how idiotic does that man think I am? Pip is his servant! As if he doesn't know where the poor little thing is at all times...). Not wanting to allow the man in my house I stepped out onto the front walk and kept myself between him and the door. To my surprise Gus came out and stood just behind me, his had pressing reassuringly against my back for just a moment, which was a touch distracting...
So I don't remember much of what Mr. Underby said, except that just before he left he gave myself and Dr. Dayafter a very peculiar look.
We are not afraid, dear journal.
Tinus slipped out and went after Mr. Underby, saying there was something he needed to talk to him about. For whatever reason Mr. Underby had slipped round the side of the house to stand just behind the garden wall by my bedroom, so I slipped in and pushed open the window to listen to their conversation.
I must have a talk with Tinus before Mr. Underby draws him in and he is lost to us.
At last it seemed Mr. Underby had left and Mr. Tenk took his own leave. Victor, Gus, Kaylee and I were discussing...something, I forget what, when we heard a commotion in the garden. I went to have a look and discovered Stormy and Tenk, they had seen a snake of some sort.
Seems a bit early for them, but, ah well. A moment later we were joined by Vic and Gus, leaving Kaylee alone in the house.
Which, evidently, is when Mr. Underby snuck in and had some words with her before sneaking out again.
When I found her she was huddled in the corner hugging her knees, poor dear. I'd never thought to bother to lock the doors, but I shall have to now. Also, perhaps, some other forms of protection should be put into place.
Though I am loathe to put myself into his debt again, I may have to write to my brother. I suppose the freedom was sweet while it lasted.
Dr. Dayafter kindly offered to stay the night with us so we wouldn't be alone, and we took him up on it. I insisted that Kaylee take my bedroom and that I would sleep in the attic, figuring that she would feel much safer in a room with a door that locked and had multiple exits. I set the Doctor up with blankets in the living room and made sure there were plenty of logs on hand to keep the room warm.
One thing that I am wavering on, dear journal: I had said to Gus, Kaylee and (Gods forgive my stupid self) Tenk that I thought the next logical step was to strike at Mr. Underby before he could strike at us, meaning that I would try to take Pip from him. But some part of me is fighting the idea. If it were ever discovered by any of the Guild members, even by my brother, that I had done such a thing the punishment would be death.
Or worse, far worse.
I am not certain it is a risk I am willing to take.
I should wrap this up and go to market, nearly supper time.
~S. MacB.
I am unsure how to write here what has happened over the last few days, but I shall do my best.
I believe it begins with me suggesting to Miss Kaylee Frye that I wanted to learn to do a little work around the house. She was quick to break out a whip and start taunting me to build faster show her support and has assisted me as I laid brick, worked metal and re-papered walls. Needless to say we have become fast friends.
I realize the nature of our friendship would change rapidly if she ever discovered my little talent, especially given her phobias. I can only hope to keep it hidden from her as effortlessly as I've kept it hidden from the rest of the town.
Even Dr. Dayafter doesn't know about my other face.
For one thing the crow-that-was-not-a-crow has escaped from his prison. Oh yes, dear Journal, just when we were convinced of our own safety, Mr. Underby comes seeping out of the woodwork like a fungus.
Kaylee and I heard of it first when we went to the Gangplank for a pint together after a long day of laying around the house pestering one another work. Young Mr. Skute mentioned that he had seen Mr. Underby only hours before and as soon as we were certain that he was certain that he had seen that old spook Kaylee took off to find Mr. Tenk. Naturally, I followed her.
Our worst fears were confirmed when we went up to Mr. Tenk's and discovered the cage, torn apart as if pushed open from the inside. Kaylee....did not react well. She kept insisting that she needed to go find someplace to hide, but I couldn't stand the idea of her cowering in some dark hole somewhere, so I insisted that she put a bed up for herself in the attic, which we did.
I am hoping, of course, that Mr. Underby would be unlikely to retaliate toward her if she is around other people. Safety in numbers, if you will.
As has become the habit at Macbain house people began to gather in my living room as evening approached. It was the usual suspects and I could see Kaylee starting to forget her worries and let mine slip away too. With Tinus, Gus, Victor and Tenk in the room it's hard to imagine that anything bad will happen, I mean, the force of Gus's ego alone should repulse any attacks.......
That was, of course, when Mr. Underby came knocking.
He claimed he was looking for Pip (Honestly, how idiotic does that man think I am? Pip is his servant! As if he doesn't know where the poor little thing is at all times...). Not wanting to allow the man in my house I stepped out onto the front walk and kept myself between him and the door. To my surprise Gus came out and stood just behind me, his had pressing reassuringly against my back for just a moment, which was a touch distracting...
So I don't remember much of what Mr. Underby said, except that just before he left he gave myself and Dr. Dayafter a very peculiar look.
We are not afraid, dear journal.
Tinus slipped out and went after Mr. Underby, saying there was something he needed to talk to him about. For whatever reason Mr. Underby had slipped round the side of the house to stand just behind the garden wall by my bedroom, so I slipped in and pushed open the window to listen to their conversation.
I must have a talk with Tinus before Mr. Underby draws him in and he is lost to us.
At last it seemed Mr. Underby had left and Mr. Tenk took his own leave. Victor, Gus, Kaylee and I were discussing...something, I forget what, when we heard a commotion in the garden. I went to have a look and discovered Stormy and Tenk, they had seen a snake of some sort.
Seems a bit early for them, but, ah well. A moment later we were joined by Vic and Gus, leaving Kaylee alone in the house.
Which, evidently, is when Mr. Underby snuck in and had some words with her before sneaking out again.
When I found her she was huddled in the corner hugging her knees, poor dear. I'd never thought to bother to lock the doors, but I shall have to now. Also, perhaps, some other forms of protection should be put into place.
Though I am loathe to put myself into his debt again, I may have to write to my brother. I suppose the freedom was sweet while it lasted.
Dr. Dayafter kindly offered to stay the night with us so we wouldn't be alone, and we took him up on it. I insisted that Kaylee take my bedroom and that I would sleep in the attic, figuring that she would feel much safer in a room with a door that locked and had multiple exits. I set the Doctor up with blankets in the living room and made sure there were plenty of logs on hand to keep the room warm.
One thing that I am wavering on, dear journal: I had said to Gus, Kaylee and (Gods forgive my stupid self) Tenk that I thought the next logical step was to strike at Mr. Underby before he could strike at us, meaning that I would try to take Pip from him. But some part of me is fighting the idea. If it were ever discovered by any of the Guild members, even by my brother, that I had done such a thing the punishment would be death.
Or worse, far worse.
I am not certain it is a risk I am willing to take.
I should wrap this up and go to market, nearly supper time.
~S. MacB.
Crows and Iceskates and Things Oh My! (Journal February 7)
Journal,
What a few weeks it has been!
I am afraid that my lazy pen will dictate that I give you only the bare bones of what has happened.
So, for one. The canals froze! I ran into Mr. Baroque when I gave into a girlish urge to go skating along Grand Canal. I feel slightly less hostile toward him as a result.
Then, in the evening everyone went out for a skate, there was much joking and snow-ball throwing and general merriment. Somehow I managed to convince Gus to skate with me from Iron Bay to City Hall so I could show him the lights, when we arrived he remarked how romantic it all looked. I had to agree, it was very romantic, and just as I was thinking I might be in danger of falling for the man, Mr. Tenk showed up.
Thank goodness, I'm sure...
We had a lovely little chat, but I'm afraid I had had a bit to much laudanum (which, I suppose, makes up for today, during which I've had a bit too little of it...) and so my tongue was a little looser than usual. I made the mistake of mentioning to Mr. Tenk that my little condition was relatively recent and not something I had been born with.
Fortunately I did at least have the presence of mind to suggest that I had a headache and would rather discuss such things at a different time.
I'm sure he's forgotten about it by now.
Mr. Underby seems to have vanished, in his place we now have the oh-so-charming Miss Wickentower, who, we've been told, is his wife.
Honestly, can you imagine being married to that man, Journal? I certainly can't.
She was at the finish line of the evening Canal Ice Skating Race, attempting to shoo everyone off as quickly as possible. She indicated that Mr. Underby was "resting." I wonder if perhaps she has put him to rest for us?
Should we thank her or throw her in jail, I wonder? Can we do both?
I wish I had been there for most of the conversation between her, TInus and Mr. Tenk but I'm afraid Mr. Tenk had one of those special cages which Kaylee built for him and that thing makes me feel like all the life is running out of me if I am too close to it. A very peculiar feeling. So I left rather in a rush.
Let me see...what else has happened....
Ahh, had a run-in with the obnoxious Miss Steele who, for a change, proved herself useful. I have now (I'm certain) discovered the source of my troubled dreams. I do believe I have taken care of it, but we shall see. Also, evidently, Miss Steele had her baby and it was stolen...very convenient, if you ask me. The woman has done nothing but wish it gone from the moment she discovered she was with child. If she only knew...
Ah, hmm...I do believe that brings us to shortly after the baby vanished yesterday evening. I had run into Miss Kaylee and invited her into the house for tea. We discovered Mr. Tenk at my fireplace and he had a crow in one of those special cages with him. He has, evidently, decided to keep the bird as a pet and has even named it.
I think Mr. Lovely is an odd name for a crow...but who am I to judge? The thing is his pet.
I managed to keep a good distance from the cage (I don't have to be far from it to feel fine, it turns out) and neither Kaylee nor Tenk noticed if I was acting odd. Mr. Tenk had Kaylee clip Mr. Lovely's wings (she was almost too afraid to do it, I've never met someone so afraid of birds...) and said he wanted to make the bird a special set of cuffs for its legs so it couldn't fly off. He kept talking about wanting to teach it tricks and kept feeding the bird my cookies, which it seemed extremely fond of.
After they left I cleaned up the feathers from the floor and carried them out to the rubbish pile. There was one nearly whole feather in the lot which I have kept for myself. I keep puzzling over it, wondering, did Mr. Tenk finally catch the bird he was looking for?
I'd best to the apothecary,
my headache is worse than ever.
~S
What a few weeks it has been!
I am afraid that my lazy pen will dictate that I give you only the bare bones of what has happened.
So, for one. The canals froze! I ran into Mr. Baroque when I gave into a girlish urge to go skating along Grand Canal. I feel slightly less hostile toward him as a result.
Then, in the evening everyone went out for a skate, there was much joking and snow-ball throwing and general merriment. Somehow I managed to convince Gus to skate with me from Iron Bay to City Hall so I could show him the lights, when we arrived he remarked how romantic it all looked. I had to agree, it was very romantic, and just as I was thinking I might be in danger of falling for the man, Mr. Tenk showed up.
Thank goodness, I'm sure...
We had a lovely little chat, but I'm afraid I had had a bit to much laudanum (which, I suppose, makes up for today, during which I've had a bit too little of it...) and so my tongue was a little looser than usual. I made the mistake of mentioning to Mr. Tenk that my little condition was relatively recent and not something I had been born with.
Fortunately I did at least have the presence of mind to suggest that I had a headache and would rather discuss such things at a different time.
I'm sure he's forgotten about it by now.
Mr. Underby seems to have vanished, in his place we now have the oh-so-charming Miss Wickentower, who, we've been told, is his wife.
Honestly, can you imagine being married to that man, Journal? I certainly can't.
She was at the finish line of the evening Canal Ice Skating Race, attempting to shoo everyone off as quickly as possible. She indicated that Mr. Underby was "resting." I wonder if perhaps she has put him to rest for us?
Should we thank her or throw her in jail, I wonder? Can we do both?
I wish I had been there for most of the conversation between her, TInus and Mr. Tenk but I'm afraid Mr. Tenk had one of those special cages which Kaylee built for him and that thing makes me feel like all the life is running out of me if I am too close to it. A very peculiar feeling. So I left rather in a rush.
Let me see...what else has happened....
Ahh, had a run-in with the obnoxious Miss Steele who, for a change, proved herself useful. I have now (I'm certain) discovered the source of my troubled dreams. I do believe I have taken care of it, but we shall see. Also, evidently, Miss Steele had her baby and it was stolen...very convenient, if you ask me. The woman has done nothing but wish it gone from the moment she discovered she was with child. If she only knew...
Ah, hmm...I do believe that brings us to shortly after the baby vanished yesterday evening. I had run into Miss Kaylee and invited her into the house for tea. We discovered Mr. Tenk at my fireplace and he had a crow in one of those special cages with him. He has, evidently, decided to keep the bird as a pet and has even named it.
I think Mr. Lovely is an odd name for a crow...but who am I to judge? The thing is his pet.
I managed to keep a good distance from the cage (I don't have to be far from it to feel fine, it turns out) and neither Kaylee nor Tenk noticed if I was acting odd. Mr. Tenk had Kaylee clip Mr. Lovely's wings (she was almost too afraid to do it, I've never met someone so afraid of birds...) and said he wanted to make the bird a special set of cuffs for its legs so it couldn't fly off. He kept talking about wanting to teach it tricks and kept feeding the bird my cookies, which it seemed extremely fond of.
After they left I cleaned up the feathers from the floor and carried them out to the rubbish pile. There was one nearly whole feather in the lot which I have kept for myself. I keep puzzling over it, wondering, did Mr. Tenk finally catch the bird he was looking for?
I'd best to the apothecary,
my headache is worse than ever.
~S
Of miss Soup (Journal January 26)
Journal,
It is difficult to write of this, so I shall be brief.
As I was going about my errands today (my broom, which had mysteriously appeared, has now mysteriously vanished...very vexing) I heard that tell-tail murmuring.
There is a certain way people talk when someone has, to put it politely, passed-on. I remember well from when James...which is besides the point. I discovered that Miss Dizzel Soup had made the unfortunate mistake of tasting some tea which was sent to Mr. Underby and had not survived the experience.
Now, I shall admit, there is no love to be lost between Mr. Underby and myself. I have made no secret of my open loathing for him and those who work for him. In fact, even at our most civil there is a level of hostility between the two of us that would make almost anyone uncomfortable to be in the same room.
Still, having been in a similar position, I couldn't help but take over a bottle of wine (which, I explained to him, was the only thing I ever wanted when I was grieving but which no one ever provided). He had Miss Soup's coffin laid out in the foyer and was relatively docile, except he seems to think she must remain in the house until thaw. So, though he hardly deserves it (and he did, after all, tell me I am a "millstone round his neck" or some-such, that's gratitude for you) I went to town hall to appeal to Mayor Tenk for a way to bury the women.
I am, as one might imagine, distinctly uncomfortable with the notion of Miss Soup remaining unburied for months...
So, I went to see Mr. Tenk.
Let the record show, dear journal, that I haven't the faintest clue what I have done to make Mr. Tenk loathe me to the point that he would not even turn to look at me as we spoke. Honestly, I have given the man his due, I have shown respect, I have told stories on command and we have watched over him as best we can, so why the extraordinary cold shoulder, I haven't the faintest idea. I was half tempted to do something wicked...but decided against it. Instead I was Toady-extraordinare and made the appeal on Mr. Underby's behalf.
He was not pleased (I assume, considering his tone, but, let's be honest, I wasn't pleased to be making the request) but finally suggested that Mr. Underby should build a bonfire and dig beneath it and then told me, in the least polite way possible, to leave immediately.
Honestly, he is so vexing I really should go dump a bucket of seawater in his forge.
I have already sent a note to Mr. Underby telling him what he should do.
What a troublesome day it has been.
I think I had best turn-in for the night, I think I've just heard Pip padding around upstairs.
~S. MacB.
It is difficult to write of this, so I shall be brief.
As I was going about my errands today (my broom, which had mysteriously appeared, has now mysteriously vanished...very vexing) I heard that tell-tail murmuring.
There is a certain way people talk when someone has, to put it politely, passed-on. I remember well from when James...which is besides the point. I discovered that Miss Dizzel Soup had made the unfortunate mistake of tasting some tea which was sent to Mr. Underby and had not survived the experience.
Now, I shall admit, there is no love to be lost between Mr. Underby and myself. I have made no secret of my open loathing for him and those who work for him. In fact, even at our most civil there is a level of hostility between the two of us that would make almost anyone uncomfortable to be in the same room.
Still, having been in a similar position, I couldn't help but take over a bottle of wine (which, I explained to him, was the only thing I ever wanted when I was grieving but which no one ever provided). He had Miss Soup's coffin laid out in the foyer and was relatively docile, except he seems to think she must remain in the house until thaw. So, though he hardly deserves it (and he did, after all, tell me I am a "millstone round his neck" or some-such, that's gratitude for you) I went to town hall to appeal to Mayor Tenk for a way to bury the women.
I am, as one might imagine, distinctly uncomfortable with the notion of Miss Soup remaining unburied for months...
So, I went to see Mr. Tenk.
Let the record show, dear journal, that I haven't the faintest clue what I have done to make Mr. Tenk loathe me to the point that he would not even turn to look at me as we spoke. Honestly, I have given the man his due, I have shown respect, I have told stories on command and we have watched over him as best we can, so why the extraordinary cold shoulder, I haven't the faintest idea. I was half tempted to do something wicked...but decided against it. Instead I was Toady-extraordinare and made the appeal on Mr. Underby's behalf.
He was not pleased (I assume, considering his tone, but, let's be honest, I wasn't pleased to be making the request) but finally suggested that Mr. Underby should build a bonfire and dig beneath it and then told me, in the least polite way possible, to leave immediately.
Honestly, he is so vexing I really should go dump a bucket of seawater in his forge.
I have already sent a note to Mr. Underby telling him what he should do.
What a troublesome day it has been.
I think I had best turn-in for the night, I think I've just heard Pip padding around upstairs.
~S. MacB.
A Marvelous Weekend (Journal January 25, Morning)
Journal,
Oh! What a marvelous weekend!
I must admit, I am feeling I made the right decision about not leaving town.
On Saturday there was the Aiship Regatta, which was very exciting. How I wish the Ulysses was a swift bird, I should loved to have put her through her paces! Mr. Pip kept me company, as usual, he is so very much fun to spend time around. What I wouldn't give to have the assurance that he won't betray me in the end. Still, I a so fond of him I probably won't hold it against him, it's not as though he could help it.
Then, of course, in the evening there was the Black & White ball. It felt so good to dust off one of my old gowns and give the thing a twirl. For a change, there were plenty of partners to be had and, I have to admit, I probably danced with all the most charming! Unfortunately, at one point, Father Pizzaro arrived and I'll admit, coward that I am, I nearly fled the ball to go hide beneath my bed. Fortunately the charming Miss Dagger must have sensed my distress and asked me to dance. As he was leaving I told her the brief tale of what had happened and she turned to give him a measured look, I'm surprised he didn't turn to stone on the spot! I am so very fond of Miss Jed, she lives just across the street from me and is often over for afternoon tea and, of course, her offer to help me with my "father problem" has only endeared her further to me. In fact, I've had overwhelming support from my friends on this, it's so comforting.
I'm feeling far more confident about the entire situation.
Grendel arrived late, but made up for it by keeping me up until the sun was prepared to rise again! Oh! I nearly danced my feet off! I do have such a nice time when Mr. Footman is around, I realize he is my employer, but I think if he weren't, then we should still be friends. I had been keeping the Father-issue from Grendel simply because I didn't think it involved him at all (and because I should be devistated if he did anything stupid and got himself in trouble) but he told me that Pizzaro (that man again!) had been hovering around the Laboratory just that day. So I told him what happened. He became quite protective, it was really very sweet.
Sunday, of course, was a day of work. I thought that I would work on the garden wall, so I put on my grubbiest clothing and set to putting stone to stone. Fortunately Mr. Wirefly came along and gave me some assistance, otherwise it would have been a primtastic mess a disaster. Afterwords I gave myself, and the hearth, a good scrubbing and went to the Champagne Rooms for the evenings entertainment and then returned home to collapse on my bed. Goodness! What a weekend!
Oh! I nearly forgot! I met the most curious man today, a Mr. Spiritweaver. We spoke earlier in the day at the Cocojava (amid a lively crowd there!) and then I saw him again at the Champagne Rooms, where he asked me to dance. There is something about him that is tugging at the corner of my mind...perhaps we have met before? Or is it something in his movement that is reminding me of someone else?
I am sure it will come to me.
~S. MacB.
Oh! What a marvelous weekend!
I must admit, I am feeling I made the right decision about not leaving town.
On Saturday there was the Aiship Regatta, which was very exciting. How I wish the Ulysses was a swift bird, I should loved to have put her through her paces! Mr. Pip kept me company, as usual, he is so very much fun to spend time around. What I wouldn't give to have the assurance that he won't betray me in the end. Still, I a so fond of him I probably won't hold it against him, it's not as though he could help it.
Then, of course, in the evening there was the Black & White ball. It felt so good to dust off one of my old gowns and give the thing a twirl. For a change, there were plenty of partners to be had and, I have to admit, I probably danced with all the most charming! Unfortunately, at one point, Father Pizzaro arrived and I'll admit, coward that I am, I nearly fled the ball to go hide beneath my bed. Fortunately the charming Miss Dagger must have sensed my distress and asked me to dance. As he was leaving I told her the brief tale of what had happened and she turned to give him a measured look, I'm surprised he didn't turn to stone on the spot! I am so very fond of Miss Jed, she lives just across the street from me and is often over for afternoon tea and, of course, her offer to help me with my "father problem" has only endeared her further to me. In fact, I've had overwhelming support from my friends on this, it's so comforting.
I'm feeling far more confident about the entire situation.
Grendel arrived late, but made up for it by keeping me up until the sun was prepared to rise again! Oh! I nearly danced my feet off! I do have such a nice time when Mr. Footman is around, I realize he is my employer, but I think if he weren't, then we should still be friends. I had been keeping the Father-issue from Grendel simply because I didn't think it involved him at all (and because I should be devistated if he did anything stupid and got himself in trouble) but he told me that Pizzaro (that man again!) had been hovering around the Laboratory just that day. So I told him what happened. He became quite protective, it was really very sweet.
Sunday, of course, was a day of work. I thought that I would work on the garden wall, so I put on my grubbiest clothing and set to putting stone to stone. Fortunately Mr. Wirefly came along and gave me some assistance, otherwise it would have been a primtastic mess a disaster. Afterwords I gave myself, and the hearth, a good scrubbing and went to the Champagne Rooms for the evenings entertainment and then returned home to collapse on my bed. Goodness! What a weekend!
Oh! I nearly forgot! I met the most curious man today, a Mr. Spiritweaver. We spoke earlier in the day at the Cocojava (amid a lively crowd there!) and then I saw him again at the Champagne Rooms, where he asked me to dance. There is something about him that is tugging at the corner of my mind...perhaps we have met before? Or is it something in his movement that is reminding me of someone else?
I am sure it will come to me.
~S. MacB.
An Encounter with Fathers Moonwall & Pizzaro (Journal January 21)
Dear Journal,
Though I rarely commit fully to paper the events of a particular day, I feel today that I must be as accurate as possible. I received a most unusual visit from Fathers Moonwall and Pizzaro that has put me completely on edge. To place this within context I shall say that Father Moonwall was by earlier in the day making inquiries about Mr. Pip. I have made no secret of my affections for Mr. Pip who I treat as a dear friend (even if I know, in the end, he isn’t really), and was ready to protect him as I saw fit. Of course, when Father Moonwall began to talk about throwing him into the ocean to see if he would drown (evidently if he drowns that means he’s not fae of any sort but if he floats then he’s guilty, what nonsense!) I immediately denied any and all knowledge of Mr. Pip's abilities.
When he left I had hoped it would be the last I saw of him, but lo-and-behold, as I am enjoying an evening to myself reading a book and drinking tea (I presume Lo & Gil were out in the town somewhere) I heard a knock at the door.
Father Moonwall knocks briskly
Stargirl Macbain looks up and sets her book aside, "Just a moment!"
Father Moonwall: Hello again Miss Macbain
Father Pizzaro: Good evening.
Stargirl Macbain frowns, "Oh, Hello again Father Moonwall."
Stargirl Macbain looks beyond him, "Hello Sir."
Father Moonwall: Might we have a word?
Stargirl Macbain: Certainly
Father Pizzaro smiles
Father Moonwall: Thank you.
Stargirl Macbain: Do come in.
Father Moonwall: AH, oh!
Father Moonwall looks up toward the top of Miss Macbain's head
Stargirl Macbain: Something wrong father?
Father Moonwall: This is my colleague, Father Pizzaro
Stargirl Macbain: Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure, Father Pizzaro.
Father Pizzaro: A pleasure.
Father Pizzaro stares at the ears incredulously
Stargirl Macbain looks distinctly uncomfortable, "Something wrong with my hair?"
Father Pizzaro looks to Father Moonwall
Father Moonwall: The hairstyles of the youth are shocking sometimes
Stargirl Macbain reaches up to touch her head, "Oh...OH! My headband! The ears."
Father Pizzaro: Those ears in your hair are very life like.
Father Pizzaro: They appear to be moving.
Stargirl Macbain laughs tensely, "Nonsense, trick of the light.”
Father Moonwall stares grimly
Stargirl Macbain: One of the children made them for me, I was just taking the rolls out of the Dutch oven, would you care for some?
Father Pizzaro narrows his eyes
Father Moonwall: Ah, yes.
Father Pizzaro: Very kind.
Stargirl Macbain: Do come up then.
Father Moonwall looks to Father Pizzaro
Stargirl Macbain: Do have a seat...I’ve just forgotten something in the attic, help yourselves.
I slipped up to the attic to try and shift the ears away but it was no use. I’ve not been able to do so for some time now, and I couldn’t find a hat to save my life. I could hear the two talking in the parlor below me and I will admit that I considered going out through the attic window.
Father Moonwall: Hmmm
Father Moonwall: She said something about the attic last time I was here as well.
Father Pizzaro: A descendent of the beast men?
Father Moonwall: It is possible.
At this point I returned to the parlor and re-joined them, thinking it best I don’t leave them alone long enough to get a good look at the books on my shelves.
Stargirl Macbain: Forgive me, I thought I heard the cat.
Father Moonwall whispers: Are you still cold, Juris?
Father Pizzaro: I do like cats. They are a comfort to have around.
Father Moonwall: All manner of beasts disturb me.
Father Pizzaro: No, Ora.
Father Pizzaro: What a delightful parlor you have. So warm.
Stargirl Macbain frowns at Moonwall then brightens again, "Oh, thank you, It can be so drafty. But today it's keeping warm."
Father Moonwall: Father Pizzaro had further questions concerning this Underby and goblin situation.
Father Pizzaro: I was telling Father Moonwall how I do not handle the chill well. Thank goodness for the baths.
Father Moonwall looks at Father Pizzaro
Stargirl Macbain: Goblin? what goblin?
Father Pizzaro smiles
Father Pizzaro: Ah yes.
Father Pizzaro: I understand you have a... goblin?
Father Moonwall: This Mr. Dip.
Stargirl Macbain: Goblins are supposed to be green aren't they? With hook noses?
Father Pizzaro: What does he look like?
Stargirl Macbain looks confused.
Father Moonwall: I assure you we do not know, miss.
Stargirl Macbain: I'm confused myself, Mr. Dip? I don't know a Mr. Dip I'm afraid....
Father Pizzaro: I have never seen such a creature. Another of the variety of beast men?
Father Moonwall: Yes, perhaps you might describe this Mr. Dip?
Father Pizzaro stares at Stargirl’s twitching ears.
Stargirl Macbain shifts uneasily, "Beast men, what are you two going on about?"
Father Pizzaro: I have been fascinated by the nonhuman population of this city since my arrival.
Stargirl Macbain: non-human populations?
Father Moonwall: Yes, I just met a horse man, most queer.
Father Pizzaro: Those ears of yours.
Stargirl Macbain: The one's Lo made for me?
Father Pizzaro: Might I inquire of your parentage?
Stargirl Macbain: Pardon me? My what?
Father Pizzaro: I have observed human children with animal appendages. Tails.
Father Pizzaro: Are they hybrids? Second or third generations of the beast men?
Father Moonwall: Yes, I met one the other night... Vic, I think... had a huge white tail
Stargirl Macbain: My...parents? I..I am not not any sort of hy-whatsits and certainly not them.
Father Pizzaro: And not even a month ago Mr. Tenk himself sent me a child to begin the training.
Father Pizzaro: The child had long ears and decidedly elfin features.
Stargirl Macbain: Mr. Tenk sent you a child?
Father Moonwall: Mr. Tenk is extremely devout
Father Pizzaro: Yes. He wished him to be trained as an addiator.
Stargirl Macbain: Oh, how very noble of him.
Stargirl Macbain: It is lovely to see Mr. Tenk overcoming his handicaps.
Father Pizzaro: If he is found to have talent. There is a small window of opportunity to instill certain disciplines in the mind.
Stargirl Macbain: What would you train him to do, exactly?
Father Pizzaro: Handicaps? I was not aware that Mr. Tenk was afflicted.
Father Moonwall: Handicaps?
Father Pizzaro: I will train him in calculation.
Father Pizzaro: Some people still prefer the mind to the machines.
Heliotrope snorts.
Stargirl Macbain: His height I mean, that terrible bone fever.
Father Pizzaro: Ah yes. His height does not seem to be a hindrance to him.
Stargirl Macbain: He is a marvelous man, I'm sure he'll serve you well.
Father Moonwall: Oh he has, he does.
Father Pizzaro: Its a pity his political callings have taken him away from his maths.
Father Pizzaro: He was quite talented.
Father Moonwall nods grimly
Father Pizzaro gives Father Moonwall an odd glance
Stargirl Macbain shakes her head, "His maths...I'm sorry. I have no idea what math has to do with serving your church?"
Father Pizzaro: All of our order are trained in mathematics from childhood.
Father Moonwall: One of the most noble aspects of the church is math
Stargirl Macbain waves her hand airily, "I was never allowed to learn math, it wasn't a lady’s calling."
Father Moonwall looks suddenly very angry.
Father Pizzaro inclines his head.
Stargirl Macbain: French, Latin, calligraphy, needlepoint, but no math I'm afraid.
Father Pizzaro: Some believe so, but I have known some women who were quite adept.
Father Moonwall: It should be a crime!
Father Pizzaro: And these days, with so few children being started in the training, girls are welcomed as well as boys.
Stargirl Macbain: I am pleased to hear it.
Father Pizzaro puts a finger to his lips and smiles
Father Moonwall looks quizzingly at Pizzaro
Father Pizzaro: I have found the girls are easier, provided they start early enough.
Stargirl Macbain: Mmmm...
Father Pizzaro: They can start earlier. Perhaps because they are calmer than the boys.
Father Pizzaro: But back to your ears.
Father Pizzaro smiles benignly
Stargirl Macbain: What of them?
Father Pizzaro: Have you always had them?
At this point some noise drew Father Moonwall to the window to gaze down at the back garden. I have a very small garden, and I call it “a garden” only because that seems far more polite that “patch of dead dirt where I keep the coal.”
Father Pizzaro: What is it, Ora?
Stargirl Macbain watches father Moonwall, "What? No, I told you one of the children made them for me."
Father Moonwall: That horse man is out there
Father Moonwall: He fascinates me
Stargirl Macbain frowns, "Mr. Lionheart?"
Father Moonwall: I don't recall his name.
Father Pizzaro: One would expect a more substantial tail to balance the head
It seemed ridiculous that Mr. Lionheart would be in my garden, but I stood to investigate myself and, goodness, there he was.
Heliotrope Lionheart: Here birdie... hrmm?
Heliotrope Lionheart: Oh, Ms Macbain
Father Pizzaro: It must be some effort to walk upright
Stargirl Macbain: Did he just call for me?
Father Moonwall: I believe he is speaking, miss.
Father Moonwall: His mouth is moving.
Father Moonwall: Or perhaps he is chewing cud.
Father Moonwall: Do horses do that?
Father Pizzaro peers closely at the ears
Father Pizzaro stood uncomfortably close to me and seemed deeply interested in my ears. I must say, either the man has a fetish of some sort or he simply has no manners at all. Fortunately at that moment Mr. Lionheart caught my attention and I seized the opportunity to leave the room.
Heliotrope Lionheart waves up
Father Pizzaro: No, I do not believe so.
Stargirl Macbain peers out the window, "I'll just see what he wants" waves down.
Stargirl Macbain: Horses do chew cud, I believe.
Stargirl Macbain opens her garden door and steps out, “may I help you Mr. Lionheart?”
Heliotrope Lionheart: I thought I saw a raven in your coal pile. I was luring it with this clock
Stargirl Macbain: Ahh.
Heliotrope Lionheart: Something scared it away though
Stargirl Macbain: Well...Good luck with that then....try not to scatter my coal...
Heliotrope Lionheart: Ah yes indeed. What a mess that would be
Stargirl Macbain nods, "I'd best get back to my company..charming men, really..."
Heliotrope Lionheart: Salted earth... er, salt of the earth, they are.
Stargirl Macbain: Yes.
Stargirl Macbain: Rather.
Heliotrope Lionheart: Enjoy.
Stargirl Macbain: Well...Good day to you sir....
I will admit, I was conflicted. I should have liked someone else there, but it seemed unwise given the latent hostility that seemed to flow from the two, to invite him in. So I reluctantly returned alone to the parlor.
Father Moonwall: What did he want?
Stargirl Macbain: He was chasing a raven, evidently.
Father Moonwall: Ah, the bounty
Father Moonwall: I approve
Father Pizzaro: Was he chewing cud?
Stargirl Macbain: I..erm...I didn't ask. It didn't seem polite.
Father Moonwall: His mouth moves too much when he speaks
Father Moonwall: It must be cud.
Stargirl Macbain shrugs.
When I returned to the parlor neither seemed particularly interested in sitting down, instead they were moving closer and closer to me as they spoke, circling almost, as if they had plans to trap me against one of the walls.
Stargirl Macbain: Pardon me...
Stargirl Macbain takes a step away from father moonwall
Father Pizzaro: I must say I was quite excited when I received my orders to come to Babbage.
Father Moonwall: As was I.
Father Pizzaro: A city of industry and reason, I had been told.
Stargirl Macbain: Oh yes...it's why I came here....
Father Pizzaro: But that is not what I have found here at all.
Father Moonwall: Though I must admit, I was somewhat disappointed when I arrived
Father Pizzaro: The children are all wild. You will soon succumb to your own hedonism.
Stargirl Macbain: I'm trying my best with them....it was that Mara woman.
Stargirl Macbain: Too soft.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Moonwall: It is inevitable, unless access to the Old Quarter can be regained
Stargirl Macbain: I'd suggest climbing the wall.
Father Moonwall: Mara?
Father Pizzaro: Where will the engineers of the future come from if the children are not educated?
Father Moonwall: Oh yes, we heard about her, Juris
Stargirl Macbain: So build a school.
Father Pizzaro purses his lips
Father Pizzaro: I heard what happened to the last school.
Stargirl Macbain laughs uneasily, "Aye, no good that."
Father Pizzaro stares at the ears as they twitch
Stargirl Macbain: What, exactly, are you both here for?
Father Pizzaro: Did your parents have any animal characteristics?
Stargirl Macbain: No.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Pizzaro: What of this Mr. Dip?
Father Moonwall: I shall be direct.
Father Moonwall: Miss. I have good reason to believe you were lying to me earlier today.
Stargirl Macbain: About what, father Moonwall?
Father Moonwall: Everything.
Father Moonwall: I have no proof, yet, but I am no old fool.
Stargirl Macbain: I cannot possibly have lied about everything, do be more specific, you're being tiresome.
Father Moonwall: And I saw the little man behind me.
Stargirl Macbain: Ahh...you saw Pip did you?
Father Moonwall: And smelled him. The brimstone reek.
Stargirl Macbain: I told you he has been doing work for me and he was around.
Stargirl Macbain: His pipe?
Father Moonwall: That stench was no pipe.
Stargirl Macbain: He does smoke a rather cheap blend...but I'd hardly call it brimstone....
Father Moonwall: Juris, what is the penalty for aiding a member of the supernatural races?
Stargirl Macbain: What? Penalty?
Stargirl Macbain: I wasn't aiding…I wasn't aiding anyone!
Stargirl Macbain takes a step back, "You asked if I'd ever seen him shapeshift or disappear or whatever and I haven't!"
Father Pizzaro: I would have to confer with Father Kojima as to the policies of this town. It has not happened in many decades.
Father Moonwall: Mm, indeed.
Father Pizzaro: I will go to the wall tomorrow and see if I can get his attention.
Father Moonwall: It has been too long since this town had a good burning I think.
Father Pizzaro: Ora!
Stargirl Macbain blanches, "wh...what?"
Father Moonwall grumbles
Father Pizzaro: That is not the way these days.
Father Moonwall: Perhaps that is the issue
Stargirl Macbain: I don't understand, I haven't done anything.
Father Pizzaro: Surely you remember your history, my child?
Stargirl Macbain: What of it?
Father Pizzaro: The Empire collapsed because men relied on technology they did not comprehend.
Father Pizzaro: Would you have us repeat that error?
Stargirl Macbain: Of course not...what does that have to do with Pip?
Father Pizzaro: Science without rigor is magic.
Stargirl Macbain: Magic doesn't exist.
Father Pizzaro: I wish to observe him.
Stargirl Macbain: Then go ask Mr. Underby.
Stargirl Macbain: Pip is his assistant.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Pizzaro: I shall make inquiries of him also.
Father Moonwall: Yes, he is on our list.
Stargirl Macbain: Oh..good. He's the magician.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Pizzaro: My order demands adherence to the rigors of logic, lest we also fall on the path.
Father Pizzaro: I am sure we have much in common we can discuss.
Stargirl Macbain "I'm sure."
Father Moonwall: Surely you understand that it is not our wish to bother anyone unduly.
Father Pizzaro find his scarf and earmuffs
Stargirl Macbain: Certainly, I'm sorry if I’m being suspicious...but you talked about all those horrible things before, Father Moonwall, it has not made me wish to be open with you.
Stargirl Macbain: I cannot swim, you know.
Father Pizzaro: This has been a delightful conversation, my child.
Father Pizzaro: We should meet again.
Father Pizzaro: Soon.
Father Moonwall: Yes
Stargirl Macbain: Oh...I can't see why that would be necessary.
Stargirl Macbain: Good evening to you both.
Father Moonwall looks up
Father Moonwall: Good evening
Father Pizzaro nods and smiles
Father Pizzaro: We will see ourselves out.
Father Moonwall: Perhaps you could tell this Mr. Dip we would like to speak with him
Stargirl Macbain: Certainly.
Father Moonwall: We are staying in the Clockwinder's house
Stargirl Macbain: You're staying at the Clockwinder's....house?
Father Moonwall: Yes
Stargirl Macbain: He sent you both here to frighten me, didn't he?
Father Moonwall: He was good enough to put us up until the church is rebuilt
Father Pizzaro: The hall next to his forge. He offered it to us after the accident.
Father Moonwall: What?
Father Moonwall: Why would he want to frighten you?
Stargirl Macbain: I was rather rude to him yesterday.
Father Pizzaro: No. I have not seen Mr. Tenk in quite some time.
Father Moonwall: Rude? Hmph.
Father Pizzaro: He is remarkably devout. A very pleasant man.
Stargirl Macbain: I'm sure.
Father Moonwall: Indeed. Jovial and gay
Father Pizzaro: Such a pity about his math.
Stargirl Macbain smiles nervously.
Stargirl Macbain: Good day to both of you.
Stargirl Macbain slides the bolt shut on the door.
I followed them down and pressed my ear to the door to hear what they had to say to each other, if anything.
Father Moonwall: Something is not right there, Juris
Father Pizzaro: No.
Father Pizzaro: I think your suspicions are correct.
And then they moved on. I do not think they intend to make that the last I see of them, do you? I will admit, I was tempted to leave town immediately. I have no allies of a separate nature (I can hardly count Mr. Pip, as he is here only at the whim of Mr. Underby, I assume) and really know no one who has my particular talen, with the exception of Mr. Underby himself. I must admit, I am tempted to go to the man and seek his friendship. He hasn’t done anything particularly awful recently, so perhaps he’s calmed down a bit since the incident with Mr. tenk.
I don’t know what to do.
~S. MacB.
Though I rarely commit fully to paper the events of a particular day, I feel today that I must be as accurate as possible. I received a most unusual visit from Fathers Moonwall and Pizzaro that has put me completely on edge. To place this within context I shall say that Father Moonwall was by earlier in the day making inquiries about Mr. Pip. I have made no secret of my affections for Mr. Pip who I treat as a dear friend (even if I know, in the end, he isn’t really), and was ready to protect him as I saw fit. Of course, when Father Moonwall began to talk about throwing him into the ocean to see if he would drown (evidently if he drowns that means he’s not fae of any sort but if he floats then he’s guilty, what nonsense!) I immediately denied any and all knowledge of Mr. Pip's abilities.
When he left I had hoped it would be the last I saw of him, but lo-and-behold, as I am enjoying an evening to myself reading a book and drinking tea (I presume Lo & Gil were out in the town somewhere) I heard a knock at the door.
Father Moonwall knocks briskly
Stargirl Macbain looks up and sets her book aside, "Just a moment!"
Father Moonwall: Hello again Miss Macbain
Father Pizzaro: Good evening.
Stargirl Macbain frowns, "Oh, Hello again Father Moonwall."
Stargirl Macbain looks beyond him, "Hello Sir."
Father Moonwall: Might we have a word?
Stargirl Macbain: Certainly
Father Pizzaro smiles
Father Moonwall: Thank you.
Stargirl Macbain: Do come in.
Father Moonwall: AH, oh!
Father Moonwall looks up toward the top of Miss Macbain's head
Stargirl Macbain: Something wrong father?
Father Moonwall: This is my colleague, Father Pizzaro
Stargirl Macbain: Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure, Father Pizzaro.
Father Pizzaro: A pleasure.
Father Pizzaro stares at the ears incredulously
Stargirl Macbain looks distinctly uncomfortable, "Something wrong with my hair?"
Father Pizzaro looks to Father Moonwall
Father Moonwall: The hairstyles of the youth are shocking sometimes
Stargirl Macbain reaches up to touch her head, "Oh...OH! My headband! The ears."
Father Pizzaro: Those ears in your hair are very life like.
Father Pizzaro: They appear to be moving.
Stargirl Macbain laughs tensely, "Nonsense, trick of the light.”
Father Moonwall stares grimly
Stargirl Macbain: One of the children made them for me, I was just taking the rolls out of the Dutch oven, would you care for some?
Father Pizzaro narrows his eyes
Father Moonwall: Ah, yes.
Father Pizzaro: Very kind.
Stargirl Macbain: Do come up then.
Father Moonwall looks to Father Pizzaro
Stargirl Macbain: Do have a seat...I’ve just forgotten something in the attic, help yourselves.
I slipped up to the attic to try and shift the ears away but it was no use. I’ve not been able to do so for some time now, and I couldn’t find a hat to save my life. I could hear the two talking in the parlor below me and I will admit that I considered going out through the attic window.
Father Moonwall: Hmmm
Father Moonwall: She said something about the attic last time I was here as well.
Father Pizzaro: A descendent of the beast men?
Father Moonwall: It is possible.
At this point I returned to the parlor and re-joined them, thinking it best I don’t leave them alone long enough to get a good look at the books on my shelves.
Stargirl Macbain: Forgive me, I thought I heard the cat.
Father Moonwall whispers: Are you still cold, Juris?
Father Pizzaro: I do like cats. They are a comfort to have around.
Father Moonwall: All manner of beasts disturb me.
Father Pizzaro: No, Ora.
Father Pizzaro: What a delightful parlor you have. So warm.
Stargirl Macbain frowns at Moonwall then brightens again, "Oh, thank you, It can be so drafty. But today it's keeping warm."
Father Moonwall: Father Pizzaro had further questions concerning this Underby and goblin situation.
Father Pizzaro: I was telling Father Moonwall how I do not handle the chill well. Thank goodness for the baths.
Father Moonwall looks at Father Pizzaro
Stargirl Macbain: Goblin? what goblin?
Father Pizzaro smiles
Father Pizzaro: Ah yes.
Father Pizzaro: I understand you have a... goblin?
Father Moonwall: This Mr. Dip.
Stargirl Macbain: Goblins are supposed to be green aren't they? With hook noses?
Father Pizzaro: What does he look like?
Stargirl Macbain looks confused.
Father Moonwall: I assure you we do not know, miss.
Stargirl Macbain: I'm confused myself, Mr. Dip? I don't know a Mr. Dip I'm afraid....
Father Pizzaro: I have never seen such a creature. Another of the variety of beast men?
Father Moonwall: Yes, perhaps you might describe this Mr. Dip?
Father Pizzaro stares at Stargirl’s twitching ears.
Stargirl Macbain shifts uneasily, "Beast men, what are you two going on about?"
Father Pizzaro: I have been fascinated by the nonhuman population of this city since my arrival.
Stargirl Macbain: non-human populations?
Father Moonwall: Yes, I just met a horse man, most queer.
Father Pizzaro: Those ears of yours.
Stargirl Macbain: The one's Lo made for me?
Father Pizzaro: Might I inquire of your parentage?
Stargirl Macbain: Pardon me? My what?
Father Pizzaro: I have observed human children with animal appendages. Tails.
Father Pizzaro: Are they hybrids? Second or third generations of the beast men?
Father Moonwall: Yes, I met one the other night... Vic, I think... had a huge white tail
Stargirl Macbain: My...parents? I..I am not not any sort of hy-whatsits and certainly not them.
Father Pizzaro: And not even a month ago Mr. Tenk himself sent me a child to begin the training.
Father Pizzaro: The child had long ears and decidedly elfin features.
Stargirl Macbain: Mr. Tenk sent you a child?
Father Moonwall: Mr. Tenk is extremely devout
Father Pizzaro: Yes. He wished him to be trained as an addiator.
Stargirl Macbain: Oh, how very noble of him.
Stargirl Macbain: It is lovely to see Mr. Tenk overcoming his handicaps.
Father Pizzaro: If he is found to have talent. There is a small window of opportunity to instill certain disciplines in the mind.
Stargirl Macbain: What would you train him to do, exactly?
Father Pizzaro: Handicaps? I was not aware that Mr. Tenk was afflicted.
Father Moonwall: Handicaps?
Father Pizzaro: I will train him in calculation.
Father Pizzaro: Some people still prefer the mind to the machines.
Heliotrope snorts.
Stargirl Macbain: His height I mean, that terrible bone fever.
Father Pizzaro: Ah yes. His height does not seem to be a hindrance to him.
Stargirl Macbain: He is a marvelous man, I'm sure he'll serve you well.
Father Moonwall: Oh he has, he does.
Father Pizzaro: Its a pity his political callings have taken him away from his maths.
Father Pizzaro: He was quite talented.
Father Moonwall nods grimly
Father Pizzaro gives Father Moonwall an odd glance
Stargirl Macbain shakes her head, "His maths...I'm sorry. I have no idea what math has to do with serving your church?"
Father Pizzaro: All of our order are trained in mathematics from childhood.
Father Moonwall: One of the most noble aspects of the church is math
Stargirl Macbain waves her hand airily, "I was never allowed to learn math, it wasn't a lady’s calling."
Father Moonwall looks suddenly very angry.
Father Pizzaro inclines his head.
Stargirl Macbain: French, Latin, calligraphy, needlepoint, but no math I'm afraid.
Father Pizzaro: Some believe so, but I have known some women who were quite adept.
Father Moonwall: It should be a crime!
Father Pizzaro: And these days, with so few children being started in the training, girls are welcomed as well as boys.
Stargirl Macbain: I am pleased to hear it.
Father Pizzaro puts a finger to his lips and smiles
Father Moonwall looks quizzingly at Pizzaro
Father Pizzaro: I have found the girls are easier, provided they start early enough.
Stargirl Macbain: Mmmm...
Father Pizzaro: They can start earlier. Perhaps because they are calmer than the boys.
Father Pizzaro: But back to your ears.
Father Pizzaro smiles benignly
Stargirl Macbain: What of them?
Father Pizzaro: Have you always had them?
At this point some noise drew Father Moonwall to the window to gaze down at the back garden. I have a very small garden, and I call it “a garden” only because that seems far more polite that “patch of dead dirt where I keep the coal.”
Father Pizzaro: What is it, Ora?
Stargirl Macbain watches father Moonwall, "What? No, I told you one of the children made them for me."
Father Moonwall: That horse man is out there
Father Moonwall: He fascinates me
Stargirl Macbain frowns, "Mr. Lionheart?"
Father Moonwall: I don't recall his name.
Father Pizzaro: One would expect a more substantial tail to balance the head
It seemed ridiculous that Mr. Lionheart would be in my garden, but I stood to investigate myself and, goodness, there he was.
Heliotrope Lionheart: Here birdie... hrmm?
Heliotrope Lionheart: Oh, Ms Macbain
Father Pizzaro: It must be some effort to walk upright
Stargirl Macbain: Did he just call for me?
Father Moonwall: I believe he is speaking, miss.
Father Moonwall: His mouth is moving.
Father Moonwall: Or perhaps he is chewing cud.
Father Moonwall: Do horses do that?
Father Pizzaro peers closely at the ears
Father Pizzaro stood uncomfortably close to me and seemed deeply interested in my ears. I must say, either the man has a fetish of some sort or he simply has no manners at all. Fortunately at that moment Mr. Lionheart caught my attention and I seized the opportunity to leave the room.
Heliotrope Lionheart waves up
Father Pizzaro: No, I do not believe so.
Stargirl Macbain peers out the window, "I'll just see what he wants" waves down.
Stargirl Macbain: Horses do chew cud, I believe.
Stargirl Macbain opens her garden door and steps out, “may I help you Mr. Lionheart?”
Heliotrope Lionheart: I thought I saw a raven in your coal pile. I was luring it with this clock
Stargirl Macbain: Ahh.
Heliotrope Lionheart: Something scared it away though
Stargirl Macbain: Well...Good luck with that then....try not to scatter my coal...
Heliotrope Lionheart: Ah yes indeed. What a mess that would be
Stargirl Macbain nods, "I'd best get back to my company..charming men, really..."
Heliotrope Lionheart: Salted earth... er, salt of the earth, they are.
Stargirl Macbain: Yes.
Stargirl Macbain: Rather.
Heliotrope Lionheart: Enjoy.
Stargirl Macbain: Well...Good day to you sir....
I will admit, I was conflicted. I should have liked someone else there, but it seemed unwise given the latent hostility that seemed to flow from the two, to invite him in. So I reluctantly returned alone to the parlor.
Father Moonwall: What did he want?
Stargirl Macbain: He was chasing a raven, evidently.
Father Moonwall: Ah, the bounty
Father Moonwall: I approve
Father Pizzaro: Was he chewing cud?
Stargirl Macbain: I..erm...I didn't ask. It didn't seem polite.
Father Moonwall: His mouth moves too much when he speaks
Father Moonwall: It must be cud.
Stargirl Macbain shrugs.
When I returned to the parlor neither seemed particularly interested in sitting down, instead they were moving closer and closer to me as they spoke, circling almost, as if they had plans to trap me against one of the walls.
Stargirl Macbain: Pardon me...
Stargirl Macbain takes a step away from father moonwall
Father Pizzaro: I must say I was quite excited when I received my orders to come to Babbage.
Father Moonwall: As was I.
Father Pizzaro: A city of industry and reason, I had been told.
Stargirl Macbain: Oh yes...it's why I came here....
Father Pizzaro: But that is not what I have found here at all.
Father Moonwall: Though I must admit, I was somewhat disappointed when I arrived
Father Pizzaro: The children are all wild. You will soon succumb to your own hedonism.
Stargirl Macbain: I'm trying my best with them....it was that Mara woman.
Stargirl Macbain: Too soft.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Moonwall: It is inevitable, unless access to the Old Quarter can be regained
Stargirl Macbain: I'd suggest climbing the wall.
Father Moonwall: Mara?
Father Pizzaro: Where will the engineers of the future come from if the children are not educated?
Father Moonwall: Oh yes, we heard about her, Juris
Stargirl Macbain: So build a school.
Father Pizzaro purses his lips
Father Pizzaro: I heard what happened to the last school.
Stargirl Macbain laughs uneasily, "Aye, no good that."
Father Pizzaro stares at the ears as they twitch
Stargirl Macbain: What, exactly, are you both here for?
Father Pizzaro: Did your parents have any animal characteristics?
Stargirl Macbain: No.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Pizzaro: What of this Mr. Dip?
Father Moonwall: I shall be direct.
Father Moonwall: Miss. I have good reason to believe you were lying to me earlier today.
Stargirl Macbain: About what, father Moonwall?
Father Moonwall: Everything.
Father Moonwall: I have no proof, yet, but I am no old fool.
Stargirl Macbain: I cannot possibly have lied about everything, do be more specific, you're being tiresome.
Father Moonwall: And I saw the little man behind me.
Stargirl Macbain: Ahh...you saw Pip did you?
Father Moonwall: And smelled him. The brimstone reek.
Stargirl Macbain: I told you he has been doing work for me and he was around.
Stargirl Macbain: His pipe?
Father Moonwall: That stench was no pipe.
Stargirl Macbain: He does smoke a rather cheap blend...but I'd hardly call it brimstone....
Father Moonwall: Juris, what is the penalty for aiding a member of the supernatural races?
Stargirl Macbain: What? Penalty?
Stargirl Macbain: I wasn't aiding…I wasn't aiding anyone!
Stargirl Macbain takes a step back, "You asked if I'd ever seen him shapeshift or disappear or whatever and I haven't!"
Father Pizzaro: I would have to confer with Father Kojima as to the policies of this town. It has not happened in many decades.
Father Moonwall: Mm, indeed.
Father Pizzaro: I will go to the wall tomorrow and see if I can get his attention.
Father Moonwall: It has been too long since this town had a good burning I think.
Father Pizzaro: Ora!
Stargirl Macbain blanches, "wh...what?"
Father Moonwall grumbles
Father Pizzaro: That is not the way these days.
Father Moonwall: Perhaps that is the issue
Stargirl Macbain: I don't understand, I haven't done anything.
Father Pizzaro: Surely you remember your history, my child?
Stargirl Macbain: What of it?
Father Pizzaro: The Empire collapsed because men relied on technology they did not comprehend.
Father Pizzaro: Would you have us repeat that error?
Stargirl Macbain: Of course not...what does that have to do with Pip?
Father Pizzaro: Science without rigor is magic.
Stargirl Macbain: Magic doesn't exist.
Father Pizzaro: I wish to observe him.
Stargirl Macbain: Then go ask Mr. Underby.
Stargirl Macbain: Pip is his assistant.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Pizzaro: I shall make inquiries of him also.
Father Moonwall: Yes, he is on our list.
Stargirl Macbain: Oh..good. He's the magician.
Father Pizzaro: I see.
Father Pizzaro: My order demands adherence to the rigors of logic, lest we also fall on the path.
Father Pizzaro: I am sure we have much in common we can discuss.
Stargirl Macbain "I'm sure."
Father Moonwall: Surely you understand that it is not our wish to bother anyone unduly.
Father Pizzaro find his scarf and earmuffs
Stargirl Macbain: Certainly, I'm sorry if I’m being suspicious...but you talked about all those horrible things before, Father Moonwall, it has not made me wish to be open with you.
Stargirl Macbain: I cannot swim, you know.
Father Pizzaro: This has been a delightful conversation, my child.
Father Pizzaro: We should meet again.
Father Pizzaro: Soon.
Father Moonwall: Yes
Stargirl Macbain: Oh...I can't see why that would be necessary.
Stargirl Macbain: Good evening to you both.
Father Moonwall looks up
Father Moonwall: Good evening
Father Pizzaro nods and smiles
Father Pizzaro: We will see ourselves out.
Father Moonwall: Perhaps you could tell this Mr. Dip we would like to speak with him
Stargirl Macbain: Certainly.
Father Moonwall: We are staying in the Clockwinder's house
Stargirl Macbain: You're staying at the Clockwinder's....house?
Father Moonwall: Yes
Stargirl Macbain: He sent you both here to frighten me, didn't he?
Father Moonwall: He was good enough to put us up until the church is rebuilt
Father Pizzaro: The hall next to his forge. He offered it to us after the accident.
Father Moonwall: What?
Father Moonwall: Why would he want to frighten you?
Stargirl Macbain: I was rather rude to him yesterday.
Father Pizzaro: No. I have not seen Mr. Tenk in quite some time.
Father Moonwall: Rude? Hmph.
Father Pizzaro: He is remarkably devout. A very pleasant man.
Stargirl Macbain: I'm sure.
Father Moonwall: Indeed. Jovial and gay
Father Pizzaro: Such a pity about his math.
Stargirl Macbain smiles nervously.
Stargirl Macbain: Good day to both of you.
Stargirl Macbain slides the bolt shut on the door.
I followed them down and pressed my ear to the door to hear what they had to say to each other, if anything.
Father Moonwall: Something is not right there, Juris
Father Pizzaro: No.
Father Pizzaro: I think your suspicions are correct.
And then they moved on. I do not think they intend to make that the last I see of them, do you? I will admit, I was tempted to leave town immediately. I have no allies of a separate nature (I can hardly count Mr. Pip, as he is here only at the whim of Mr. Underby, I assume) and really know no one who has my particular talen, with the exception of Mr. Underby himself. I must admit, I am tempted to go to the man and seek his friendship. He hasn’t done anything particularly awful recently, so perhaps he’s calmed down a bit since the incident with Mr. tenk.
I don’t know what to do.
~S. MacB.
Troubled Mind (journal January 19)
Journal,
I'm going to leave.
I'm going to leave right now.
My bag is packed, I'll leave a note for Gil & Lo and I'll leave.
There's enough food to last them some time...
And I'll just have to hope that Lo can take care of herself, Mr. Underby surely has lost interest in her by now.
I'm going to finish packing my bag, and I'm going to walk out of this house.
My own house! They had me cornered in my own house! It was like being surrounded by wolves. All the lies coming down like a house of cards...How dare they...I'm human...I'm human...
I am going to walk down the street, carefully because the cobbles are slippery, and I'm going to wait for the train.
Pip, I wish I could take Pip with me. He told me of his friend, I think he likes me because I remind him of her. She died, like Rebecca, like James...oh James...
I'll stand on the platform and wait for the train, I won't even set my bag down.
How could he! Traitor..that little rotten traitor...I'll bake a dirty, filthy pair of boots into a pie and serve them to him with a bright smile, watching him chew on leather.
I'll wait for the train, bag in hand, and it'll arrive, puffing steam and the conductor will get off and see me on the empty platform and he'll take my ticket and show me to my car.
Where can I go? Steelhead? All that green...it'll be impossible to control her there.
He'll take my ticket, and show me to my car and I'll sit and watch New Babbage chug-away out the window. And I'll wave and feel light and happy.
I'll wave and feel light and happy and see Underby and Tenk and Moonwall and Pizzaro and Pip and Grendel and everyone else dissapear into the mist and I won't care one whit.
I'm going to leave right now.
Right.
Now.
Who'll take care of him if I leave now?
I can leave anytime...a few more days...then I'll leave.
~S.MacB.
I'm going to leave.
I'm going to leave right now.
My bag is packed, I'll leave a note for Gil & Lo and I'll leave.
There's enough food to last them some time...
And I'll just have to hope that Lo can take care of herself, Mr. Underby surely has lost interest in her by now.
I'm going to finish packing my bag, and I'm going to walk out of this house.
My own house! They had me cornered in my own house! It was like being surrounded by wolves. All the lies coming down like a house of cards...How dare they...I'm human...I'm human...
I am going to walk down the street, carefully because the cobbles are slippery, and I'm going to wait for the train.
Pip, I wish I could take Pip with me. He told me of his friend, I think he likes me because I remind him of her. She died, like Rebecca, like James...oh James...
I'll stand on the platform and wait for the train, I won't even set my bag down.
How could he! Traitor..that little rotten traitor...I'll bake a dirty, filthy pair of boots into a pie and serve them to him with a bright smile, watching him chew on leather.
I'll wait for the train, bag in hand, and it'll arrive, puffing steam and the conductor will get off and see me on the empty platform and he'll take my ticket and show me to my car.
Where can I go? Steelhead? All that green...it'll be impossible to control her there.
He'll take my ticket, and show me to my car and I'll sit and watch New Babbage chug-away out the window. And I'll wave and feel light and happy.
I'll wave and feel light and happy and see Underby and Tenk and Moonwall and Pizzaro and Pip and Grendel and everyone else dissapear into the mist and I won't care one whit.
I'm going to leave right now.
Right.
Now.
Who'll take care of him if I leave now?
I can leave anytime...a few more days...then I'll leave.
~S.MacB.
Pip, Lo & Moonwall (Journal January 17, Night)
Journal,
I can see that it has been a few days since last I wrote so I shall try to bring you quickly up-to-date on all the goings-on since last I put pen to paper.
Since last I wrote you I have had hardly a moment when I haven’t been watched. Pip is practically my shadow. When he isn’t in the house chatting with me and taking his meal, he’s (seemingly) asleep on the roof. When I go somewhere he is not long in following and then stands near me. The odd thing is that it isn’t upsetting. Pip is sweet and somehow when he is around it’s as if he has always been there in the first place. It takes a forceful reminder to myself that he is working for Underby and, however pleasant he is, he must be there because he must have been told to be, despite his claims that the ocean makes him uneasy.
I caught Gill rattling my door the other night to see if it was unlocked and discovered that he’d been turned out by Underby and was looking for something to eat. Naturally I hotted up some supper and insisted he stay the night in the house, setting him up with blankets and pillows and stoking the fire for him so he’d be warm. Before he went to sleep I did discover that he has been having dreams quite similar to mine of late (meaning lots of fire and old memories and, oddly enough, horses) and I remembered that Tinus had mentioned he’d been having rough nights as well. Perhaps there is something in the water?
With a little help from Mr. Mornington I hung my New Babbage Bunting up. Macbain house now looks filled with Civic Pride, which is a nice change, since it usually just looks to be full of secrets and cold air. I was feeling so pleased it brought out a bit of the cat in me, so I snuck out the side passage and slipped away from Mr. Pip’s watchful eye to Mr. Blackberry’s birthday party (though ,naturally, Pip found me later). To my surprise Lo was there. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her properly (that is to say, not through the eyes of my other half) and I was taken aback by how small she was, so very delicate. Something about her tugs at memories best forgotten. I, of course, couldn’t help myself, I let her know that my offer of shelter to Gil extended to her and that there was plenty of room.
Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve gone from being alone almost constantly to being surrounded by the city’s castaways! Soon I’ll have to convert the lower room into a bunk-room if I keep this up.
When I returned home from the party (slightly ahead of the others, Pip seemed quite happy to see Lo and they were having a lovely time when I left) I discovered a telegram had been delivered, tucked neatly into the crack of my front door. It was from Father Moonwall, of all people. He wants to meet to discuss a “small man.” I’ve only ever had very brief encounters with Father Moonwall and none of them left me with a favorable impression of the man. Still, I went to the telegraph office (it is so handy living so close to the train station) and sent a reply indicating that I would be willing to meet with him, though not going so far as to suggest a time or place.
Nearly forgot to mention that I had a most odd encounter with Mr. Tenk (does he have a first name? I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it mentioned, I should ask next time I see him…). I’d rather not go into the full details (I’m still sorting through them myself) but I will say that it ended with us sitting before the fireplace and me telling him stories, though I was so surprised at his request I found my tongue was quite tied. He left abruptly, and, of course, as soon as he was gone my tongue untied and I remembered a hundred more I could have told. The most important thing, I think, is that he said that crows were pulling gears out of his clocks.
Certainly explains his sudden dislike of them.
My hand feels like lead tonight, I think I shall finish for now.
~S.MacB.
I can see that it has been a few days since last I wrote so I shall try to bring you quickly up-to-date on all the goings-on since last I put pen to paper.
Since last I wrote you I have had hardly a moment when I haven’t been watched. Pip is practically my shadow. When he isn’t in the house chatting with me and taking his meal, he’s (seemingly) asleep on the roof. When I go somewhere he is not long in following and then stands near me. The odd thing is that it isn’t upsetting. Pip is sweet and somehow when he is around it’s as if he has always been there in the first place. It takes a forceful reminder to myself that he is working for Underby and, however pleasant he is, he must be there because he must have been told to be, despite his claims that the ocean makes him uneasy.
I caught Gill rattling my door the other night to see if it was unlocked and discovered that he’d been turned out by Underby and was looking for something to eat. Naturally I hotted up some supper and insisted he stay the night in the house, setting him up with blankets and pillows and stoking the fire for him so he’d be warm. Before he went to sleep I did discover that he has been having dreams quite similar to mine of late (meaning lots of fire and old memories and, oddly enough, horses) and I remembered that Tinus had mentioned he’d been having rough nights as well. Perhaps there is something in the water?
With a little help from Mr. Mornington I hung my New Babbage Bunting up. Macbain house now looks filled with Civic Pride, which is a nice change, since it usually just looks to be full of secrets and cold air. I was feeling so pleased it brought out a bit of the cat in me, so I snuck out the side passage and slipped away from Mr. Pip’s watchful eye to Mr. Blackberry’s birthday party (though ,naturally, Pip found me later). To my surprise Lo was there. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her properly (that is to say, not through the eyes of my other half) and I was taken aback by how small she was, so very delicate. Something about her tugs at memories best forgotten. I, of course, couldn’t help myself, I let her know that my offer of shelter to Gil extended to her and that there was plenty of room.
Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve gone from being alone almost constantly to being surrounded by the city’s castaways! Soon I’ll have to convert the lower room into a bunk-room if I keep this up.
When I returned home from the party (slightly ahead of the others, Pip seemed quite happy to see Lo and they were having a lovely time when I left) I discovered a telegram had been delivered, tucked neatly into the crack of my front door. It was from Father Moonwall, of all people. He wants to meet to discuss a “small man.” I’ve only ever had very brief encounters with Father Moonwall and none of them left me with a favorable impression of the man. Still, I went to the telegraph office (it is so handy living so close to the train station) and sent a reply indicating that I would be willing to meet with him, though not going so far as to suggest a time or place.
Nearly forgot to mention that I had a most odd encounter with Mr. Tenk (does he have a first name? I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it mentioned, I should ask next time I see him…). I’d rather not go into the full details (I’m still sorting through them myself) but I will say that it ended with us sitting before the fireplace and me telling him stories, though I was so surprised at his request I found my tongue was quite tied. He left abruptly, and, of course, as soon as he was gone my tongue untied and I remembered a hundred more I could have told. The most important thing, I think, is that he said that crows were pulling gears out of his clocks.
Certainly explains his sudden dislike of them.
My hand feels like lead tonight, I think I shall finish for now.
~S.MacB.
Something...(Journal January 13)
Journal,
A strange day.
Also, a rough night's sleep.
But, of course, a rough nights sleep is to be expected after the events of the day before! It would simply have been too easy for me to drop off and dream of sweet nothings.
I managed a semblance of normal today, though it was not easy. My cold may be slowing down my body but it does nothing to quiet my mind. I spent the morning organizing my book shelves, which were in a deplorable state. It did take until early afternoon and was just distracting enough that I only thought of Grendel two or three times an hour.
I cannot decide if I am afraid for him or for myself. Certainly his injury is of concern, but more of concern is that if he injected himself with the same thing he injected me with and it kills him, what does that mean for me? I wish Gizzzy would let me see him…she says it just looks like he’s sleeping. That worries me even more.
When the books were finally in order I put a pot of soup on the hook to cook and went out to get some supplies for the house. I’m afraid the old house really doesn’t stand to be left empty for even a few days and #11 really isn’t a housekeeper, if anything he is the anti-housekeeper, what with his secreting things into corners of the house and all. So I fetched some lemon soap from the chemist and went by the pub to pick up some whisky so I could make a hot toddy for my cold and ran into Mr. Pip.
I am becoming terribly fond of Mr. Pip, despite his affiliations with that foul, crawling creature Underby. There is something about him that is very quiet and undemanding but also something about him reminds me of the old tales of Robin, a peculiar paradox.
When I returned home from my shopping and socializing several things struck me as odd. 1) #11 was acting very agitated, as if something had happened. He may just be feeling anxious, I don’t know if #12 is returned yet. I let him lead me from room to room in the house as if we were looking for something, but we found nothing. 2) The house had a peculiar scent to it…something woodsy & smoky that I still can’t quite put my finger on. Familiar, comforting somehow… 3) Someone had been in my soup pot. Not that I mind, of course, as I am always issuing open invitations to dinner to every half-starved orphan I come across (all Mara’s fault…) but they were far messier about it than usual and left hardly any for my own supper! I should leave a note, but if it were Skyler, Gilly or Jimmy or any of the others, I’m really not sure they could read it.
Well…I think I had best take myself to bed. A good night’s sleep always does wonders to clear up the mind.
~S.Macb.
A strange day.
Also, a rough night's sleep.
But, of course, a rough nights sleep is to be expected after the events of the day before! It would simply have been too easy for me to drop off and dream of sweet nothings.
I managed a semblance of normal today, though it was not easy. My cold may be slowing down my body but it does nothing to quiet my mind. I spent the morning organizing my book shelves, which were in a deplorable state. It did take until early afternoon and was just distracting enough that I only thought of Grendel two or three times an hour.
I cannot decide if I am afraid for him or for myself. Certainly his injury is of concern, but more of concern is that if he injected himself with the same thing he injected me with and it kills him, what does that mean for me? I wish Gizzzy would let me see him…she says it just looks like he’s sleeping. That worries me even more.
When the books were finally in order I put a pot of soup on the hook to cook and went out to get some supplies for the house. I’m afraid the old house really doesn’t stand to be left empty for even a few days and #11 really isn’t a housekeeper, if anything he is the anti-housekeeper, what with his secreting things into corners of the house and all. So I fetched some lemon soap from the chemist and went by the pub to pick up some whisky so I could make a hot toddy for my cold and ran into Mr. Pip.
I am becoming terribly fond of Mr. Pip, despite his affiliations with that foul, crawling creature Underby. There is something about him that is very quiet and undemanding but also something about him reminds me of the old tales of Robin, a peculiar paradox.
When I returned home from my shopping and socializing several things struck me as odd. 1) #11 was acting very agitated, as if something had happened. He may just be feeling anxious, I don’t know if #12 is returned yet. I let him lead me from room to room in the house as if we were looking for something, but we found nothing. 2) The house had a peculiar scent to it…something woodsy & smoky that I still can’t quite put my finger on. Familiar, comforting somehow… 3) Someone had been in my soup pot. Not that I mind, of course, as I am always issuing open invitations to dinner to every half-starved orphan I come across (all Mara’s fault…) but they were far messier about it than usual and left hardly any for my own supper! I should leave a note, but if it were Skyler, Gilly or Jimmy or any of the others, I’m really not sure they could read it.
Well…I think I had best take myself to bed. A good night’s sleep always does wonders to clear up the mind.
~S.Macb.
Birds, Burning & Boxes (Journal January 12)
((Hello! This is just a note to say that the plums you were probably saving...wait no...I mean: Boris, I'm sure you're beautiful on the inside, but Star dislikes you so soundly she probably wouldn't take the effort to cross the street and tell you your head was on fire, little less put it out. The typist, on the other hand, thinks you're the most fun she's met in months. IE: Don't take offense if you read this entry...))
Journal,
What a day!
I spent another restless morning at Footman Industries awaiting Mr. Footman’s return. I’m afraid I might have gone out of the building again, if only because I saw that bird…
A big black thing, a crow I think, but it could be a raven, I never could tell the difference. Yesterday I had thrown out some crumbs to it, so I expect it expected more today, and really, the day was so lovely I could hardly resist going outside, and it’s not like I was going to go far.
Anyway, I grabbed some heels of bread and went outside to feed them to the crow (The crow should have a name…shall we call him fluffy or Snuggles? Snuggles I think…) and was trying to tempt it closer and closer and beginning to fantasize about how nice it might be to own a bird when Mr. Footman returned and frightened the thing off. He chastised me for having left the building and then took me to the laboratory for an examination where I was given a mostly clear bill of health.
Just a few of the tests seemed a bit off…but nothing to worry about. Probably just this cold I’ve caught.
So, at last I was allowed to return home. Of course on the way home I saw the posters: 500 for a crow or raven caught alive. So, I immediately abandoned my dreams of having Snuggles the Crow as a pet and instead decided Snuggles would be in much better hands if turned over to the mayor for the bounty.
As soon as I was home I fetched one of my empty trunks from the attic and carried it to the yard behind the house. I also fetched the last of the remotely-edible cookies from the jar. So few of my cookies survive my culinary skills that it is a bit of a waste…however, all for the good cause. I pushed the lid of the box open and tied a long piece of thread to it, then scattered cookies about in front of it and inside of it and stood back to admire my cunning trap.
Almost immediately sparrows and tits from all over the city were gathering. They were a merry lot to watch and making such noise squabbling over the cookies that they must have attracted Mr. Lionheart because he approached me asking what I was planning on doing. As I showed him my string and started to explain my cunning plan Snuggles landed and scattered all the other birds and started hunting around the yard.
I cooed to Snuggles and scattered some crumbs to get him moving in the right direction (he was prodding at the milk bowl I keep on the back porch for, among other things, the neighborhood cats). He pecked around happily, greedily snatching up crumbs and whole cookies until he became so engrossed in what he was doing that he hopped in the box to get the last of them.
It is so nice to know that someone in this town likes my cooking.
As soon as Snuggles was in the box I yanked the thread to slam the lid shut and ran to the box to throw the latch. Snuggles was not a happy bird. But Mr. Lionheart and I were feeling very pleased with ourselves. He helped me carry the boxed-bird into the house for safe keeping and then bid me good day.
Naturally, I immediately struck out for Town Hall to let the Mayor know that I had captured a crow and wanted my bounty.
Do not think for a moment, dear journal, that I was not still considering keeping Snuggles for myself as a pet…I’ve heard you can teach them to talk…but for the moment greed was winning.
Of course I didn’t make it. As I approached Town Hall I noticed smoke and heard shouting and, curious, went around to the canal side of the building and was frozen in horror.
Footman Industries was aflame! The ladies fire brigade was bravely fighting the flames but still, when the flames were doused, the building looked to be a waste. Gizzzy explained (as best she could, given her damaged condition) that Mr. Footman had injected himself with something, possibly the same strain of immortalis as he used on me, and had passed-out, knocking a lantern over in the process and setting the building alight. I have no way of knowing if Mr. Footman has survived this experiment, as Miss Gizzzy sent him up to the Rama and the transporter was damaged too much for me to go up and find out.
I can only hope…what was he thinking? When I see him next (assuming he is alive) I shall thump him soundly for making me worry!
The Ladies of the Fire Brigade and Mr. Mornington helped me get Miss Gizzzy to Mr. Lionheart, who I knew had some experience with clockworks. I felt completely useless and, I must admit, a little destitute so I left her in their capable hands and went to take care of Snuggles and get my mind off the troubles at hand.
Fortunately I ran into Miss. Dagger on the way home and she offered to help me carry the box to Clockhaven to the Pub Mr. Tenk’s Office. We were awaiting the Clockwinder when that horrible….thing…who works for Mr. Underby showed up.
In case I have never described him to you before let me do so now.
Mr. Underby’s bodyguard is a big man by the name of Boris. Boris, I think anyway, smells like old cabbage and unwashed hair and has a face that looks to have been sculpted by repeated poundings from a blunt object, and those repeated poundings have clearly done something to addle his brains.
Honestly, Mr. Underby must have dredged the filthiest canal in Babbage to haul that thing up as an employee. Even he could do better.
What was I saying…ah yes, Boris showed up.
Naturally, knowing his affiliation with Mr. Underby I was reluctant to let him know what I was up to but tried to play nice and even let him sit down on the box with me whilst we waiting for Mr. Tenk to arrive.
Oh lord, what a mistake to let that man within forty feet of me!
That filthy creature had the audacity to[pencil tip tears long line in page from pressure obscuring rest of sentence].
Well, anyway, as soon as he laid hands on me I stomped on his foot which caused him to retaliate. Then I did the only natural thing I could think of, which was to hide behind Jed and luckily the Clockwinder arrived just then and the two of them seemed to intimidate that Neanderthal enough to force him to take his rage out on something else, and the easiest thing in reach was my trunk! The thing shattered and Snuggles flew away and with him my chance at the bounty. Even Mr. Tenk’s quick action couldn’t capture the bird in time.
As is to be expected given that his employee was already around, the snake-belly man himself, Mr. Underby, showed up. Naturally his first move was the insult Mr. Tenk (and somehow Miss Lillie in the same breath…it was impressive, not that I would ever admit that to him). I don’t know what his second move would have been because I choose, at that moment, to demand that Mr. Underby pay me the money which Boris had just cost me.
Much to my surprise (given the sum of it) Mr. Underby agreed and wrote me a cheque on the spot. I thanked him kindly and suggested that if he didn’t get his man under control I would lodge a formal complaint with Mr. Undertone next time.
Mr. Underby sent Boris away then, but not before conferring with the man about something which ended in both of them giving me a strange look before Boris departed.
Mr. Underby left shortly thereafter and I returned home, exhausted from the days events. I had thought that I would immediately drop off to sleep, but I’m afraid I was roused by a feeling of alarm and found myself going through the house, checking the locks and peeking out the window as if I expected to see Boris standing beneath the lamppost.
It was a ridiculous notion, but still I stoked the fire and sat down to write this.
I think I am feeling calmer now.
Perhaps I shall try for sleep again.
~S.MacB.
Journal,
What a day!
I spent another restless morning at Footman Industries awaiting Mr. Footman’s return. I’m afraid I might have gone out of the building again, if only because I saw that bird…
A big black thing, a crow I think, but it could be a raven, I never could tell the difference. Yesterday I had thrown out some crumbs to it, so I expect it expected more today, and really, the day was so lovely I could hardly resist going outside, and it’s not like I was going to go far.
Anyway, I grabbed some heels of bread and went outside to feed them to the crow (The crow should have a name…shall we call him fluffy or Snuggles? Snuggles I think…) and was trying to tempt it closer and closer and beginning to fantasize about how nice it might be to own a bird when Mr. Footman returned and frightened the thing off. He chastised me for having left the building and then took me to the laboratory for an examination where I was given a mostly clear bill of health.
Just a few of the tests seemed a bit off…but nothing to worry about. Probably just this cold I’ve caught.
So, at last I was allowed to return home. Of course on the way home I saw the posters: 500 for a crow or raven caught alive. So, I immediately abandoned my dreams of having Snuggles the Crow as a pet and instead decided Snuggles would be in much better hands if turned over to the mayor for the bounty.
As soon as I was home I fetched one of my empty trunks from the attic and carried it to the yard behind the house. I also fetched the last of the remotely-edible cookies from the jar. So few of my cookies survive my culinary skills that it is a bit of a waste…however, all for the good cause. I pushed the lid of the box open and tied a long piece of thread to it, then scattered cookies about in front of it and inside of it and stood back to admire my cunning trap.
Almost immediately sparrows and tits from all over the city were gathering. They were a merry lot to watch and making such noise squabbling over the cookies that they must have attracted Mr. Lionheart because he approached me asking what I was planning on doing. As I showed him my string and started to explain my cunning plan Snuggles landed and scattered all the other birds and started hunting around the yard.
I cooed to Snuggles and scattered some crumbs to get him moving in the right direction (he was prodding at the milk bowl I keep on the back porch for, among other things, the neighborhood cats). He pecked around happily, greedily snatching up crumbs and whole cookies until he became so engrossed in what he was doing that he hopped in the box to get the last of them.
It is so nice to know that someone in this town likes my cooking.
As soon as Snuggles was in the box I yanked the thread to slam the lid shut and ran to the box to throw the latch. Snuggles was not a happy bird. But Mr. Lionheart and I were feeling very pleased with ourselves. He helped me carry the boxed-bird into the house for safe keeping and then bid me good day.
Naturally, I immediately struck out for Town Hall to let the Mayor know that I had captured a crow and wanted my bounty.
Do not think for a moment, dear journal, that I was not still considering keeping Snuggles for myself as a pet…I’ve heard you can teach them to talk…but for the moment greed was winning.
Of course I didn’t make it. As I approached Town Hall I noticed smoke and heard shouting and, curious, went around to the canal side of the building and was frozen in horror.
Footman Industries was aflame! The ladies fire brigade was bravely fighting the flames but still, when the flames were doused, the building looked to be a waste. Gizzzy explained (as best she could, given her damaged condition) that Mr. Footman had injected himself with something, possibly the same strain of immortalis as he used on me, and had passed-out, knocking a lantern over in the process and setting the building alight. I have no way of knowing if Mr. Footman has survived this experiment, as Miss Gizzzy sent him up to the Rama and the transporter was damaged too much for me to go up and find out.
I can only hope…what was he thinking? When I see him next (assuming he is alive) I shall thump him soundly for making me worry!
The Ladies of the Fire Brigade and Mr. Mornington helped me get Miss Gizzzy to Mr. Lionheart, who I knew had some experience with clockworks. I felt completely useless and, I must admit, a little destitute so I left her in their capable hands and went to take care of Snuggles and get my mind off the troubles at hand.
Fortunately I ran into Miss. Dagger on the way home and she offered to help me carry the box to Clockhaven to the Pub Mr. Tenk’s Office. We were awaiting the Clockwinder when that horrible….thing…who works for Mr. Underby showed up.
In case I have never described him to you before let me do so now.
Mr. Underby’s bodyguard is a big man by the name of Boris. Boris, I think anyway, smells like old cabbage and unwashed hair and has a face that looks to have been sculpted by repeated poundings from a blunt object, and those repeated poundings have clearly done something to addle his brains.
Honestly, Mr. Underby must have dredged the filthiest canal in Babbage to haul that thing up as an employee. Even he could do better.
What was I saying…ah yes, Boris showed up.
Naturally, knowing his affiliation with Mr. Underby I was reluctant to let him know what I was up to but tried to play nice and even let him sit down on the box with me whilst we waiting for Mr. Tenk to arrive.
Oh lord, what a mistake to let that man within forty feet of me!
That filthy creature had the audacity to[pencil tip tears long line in page from pressure obscuring rest of sentence].
Well, anyway, as soon as he laid hands on me I stomped on his foot which caused him to retaliate. Then I did the only natural thing I could think of, which was to hide behind Jed and luckily the Clockwinder arrived just then and the two of them seemed to intimidate that Neanderthal enough to force him to take his rage out on something else, and the easiest thing in reach was my trunk! The thing shattered and Snuggles flew away and with him my chance at the bounty. Even Mr. Tenk’s quick action couldn’t capture the bird in time.
As is to be expected given that his employee was already around, the snake-belly man himself, Mr. Underby, showed up. Naturally his first move was the insult Mr. Tenk (and somehow Miss Lillie in the same breath…it was impressive, not that I would ever admit that to him). I don’t know what his second move would have been because I choose, at that moment, to demand that Mr. Underby pay me the money which Boris had just cost me.
Much to my surprise (given the sum of it) Mr. Underby agreed and wrote me a cheque on the spot. I thanked him kindly and suggested that if he didn’t get his man under control I would lodge a formal complaint with Mr. Undertone next time.
Mr. Underby sent Boris away then, but not before conferring with the man about something which ended in both of them giving me a strange look before Boris departed.
Mr. Underby left shortly thereafter and I returned home, exhausted from the days events. I had thought that I would immediately drop off to sleep, but I’m afraid I was roused by a feeling of alarm and found myself going through the house, checking the locks and peeking out the window as if I expected to see Boris standing beneath the lamppost.
It was a ridiculous notion, but still I stoked the fire and sat down to write this.
I think I am feeling calmer now.
Perhaps I shall try for sleep again.
~S.MacB.
Not Broken Yet (Journal January 11, Afternoon)
Journal,
After much worrying and fretting the experiment has been done, though I think I shall claim, for the time being, that Mr. Footman decided against it at the last moment and instead injected me with an antidote.
I fear what I may have allowed to happen to me.
I…you’ll forgive me journal if I am not yet comfortable discussing the details of the experiment itself. I shall say only that it was extraordinarily unpleasant, more so than I was prepared for, even with the warnings Mr. Footman had given me.
I will say that most of Friday night was spent in a daze—not quite certain what was going on around me and I remember very little of it, though I have been told I mostly recited nursery rhymes and spoke incoherently.
Saturday I began to feel a little more like myself, though still quite weak. I seem to fluctuate between feeling as though I’ve been set on fire and as though I’ve been dunked in an ice bath. I’ve also developed a rather nasty cough, though perhaps that is completely unrelated to the experiment…it is winter after all. Most peculiar is how very weak I feel most of the time; I’ve not experienced such exhaustion since the days following James's and….I cannot think of that.
Still, despite my weakened state by Sunday I was feeling restless. Cats don’t like being locked up and it seems changeling cats are no different, I felt like I couldn’t breathe and, when I had the energy, I found myself pacing the building restlessly, looking out windows with longing. I managed to convince Miss Gizzzy to take me across the canal to Loki Absinthe for some soup (I’ve hardly eaten a thing because everything smells so foul right now…) and air. Upon our return Miss Gizzzy needed a wind-up, but before winding her I nipped to the front door and jammed the lock so the door would swing shut but the bolt wouldn’t slot home…I’m not sure that’s been discovered yet, I’ll have to remember to fix it before Mr. Footman returns this evening….
I had become increasingly anxious to get to my home. I disliked the idea of my fires going cold and there is the evening visitor’s supper to worry about most nights and #11, god love his loyal little soul, fantastically dangerous around fire so I can't trust him for long with complicated tastes involving it. So, as soon as Miss Gizzzy was gone on errands and there was no one to catch me I was out the door like a shot.
Well…not like a shot, more like a wheezing slug, with #11 in tow in case anything happened or I should faint again. With a bit of determination I managed to cross to the station and catch a trolley home. I found the house undisturbed beyond the usual (I’ve yet to hear of a house that isn’t constantly set-upon by urchins) and managed to boil myself up some dinner, which, I must admit, was the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in months. My cooking is clearly improving. I also grabbed a few books and, of course, you dear journal. How I missed your crisp pages!
I ran into Mr. Six and…someone else…the name escapes me, who told me there would be an emergency town hall meeting. I swore them to secrecy about having seen me on the streets (Honestly, if I were going to suddenly get a craving for brains, wouldn’t it have happened by now?) and returned to the Laboratories to sleep and recuperate.
Fortunately town hall is not far from the lab, because I will admit that today has not been a good day for me. I did try to stifle my coughing, but it was quite hard. And that Renfold man, it’s horrible what happened to him, but I cannot be the only one who feels that if that is the sort of person in the Van Creed well….I certainly don’t want to have anything to do with them.
Still, he did drop some hints (which are no doubt already circulating the town). What struck me though, perhaps because of my current state, was his mention of the moon. It must be a coincidence (it has to be!) but Mr. Tenk had said something about the moon-hand being broken on one of the clocks, could the two be connected? It’s hard to say what is and isn’t, for instance…the Mayor practically slept through the whole meeting…it was very peculiar. But then the whole meeting was.
I’m not sure the smoke of the fire was the best thing given my current condition…
I think perhaps I had best set the writing aside for now and rest…
~S.MacB.
After much worrying and fretting the experiment has been done, though I think I shall claim, for the time being, that Mr. Footman decided against it at the last moment and instead injected me with an antidote.
I fear what I may have allowed to happen to me.
I…you’ll forgive me journal if I am not yet comfortable discussing the details of the experiment itself. I shall say only that it was extraordinarily unpleasant, more so than I was prepared for, even with the warnings Mr. Footman had given me.
I will say that most of Friday night was spent in a daze—not quite certain what was going on around me and I remember very little of it, though I have been told I mostly recited nursery rhymes and spoke incoherently.
Saturday I began to feel a little more like myself, though still quite weak. I seem to fluctuate between feeling as though I’ve been set on fire and as though I’ve been dunked in an ice bath. I’ve also developed a rather nasty cough, though perhaps that is completely unrelated to the experiment…it is winter after all. Most peculiar is how very weak I feel most of the time; I’ve not experienced such exhaustion since the days following James's and….I cannot think of that.
Still, despite my weakened state by Sunday I was feeling restless. Cats don’t like being locked up and it seems changeling cats are no different, I felt like I couldn’t breathe and, when I had the energy, I found myself pacing the building restlessly, looking out windows with longing. I managed to convince Miss Gizzzy to take me across the canal to Loki Absinthe for some soup (I’ve hardly eaten a thing because everything smells so foul right now…) and air. Upon our return Miss Gizzzy needed a wind-up, but before winding her I nipped to the front door and jammed the lock so the door would swing shut but the bolt wouldn’t slot home…I’m not sure that’s been discovered yet, I’ll have to remember to fix it before Mr. Footman returns this evening….
I had become increasingly anxious to get to my home. I disliked the idea of my fires going cold and there is the evening visitor’s supper to worry about most nights and #11, god love his loyal little soul, fantastically dangerous around fire so I can't trust him for long with complicated tastes involving it. So, as soon as Miss Gizzzy was gone on errands and there was no one to catch me I was out the door like a shot.
Well…not like a shot, more like a wheezing slug, with #11 in tow in case anything happened or I should faint again. With a bit of determination I managed to cross to the station and catch a trolley home. I found the house undisturbed beyond the usual (I’ve yet to hear of a house that isn’t constantly set-upon by urchins) and managed to boil myself up some dinner, which, I must admit, was the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in months. My cooking is clearly improving. I also grabbed a few books and, of course, you dear journal. How I missed your crisp pages!
I ran into Mr. Six and…someone else…the name escapes me, who told me there would be an emergency town hall meeting. I swore them to secrecy about having seen me on the streets (Honestly, if I were going to suddenly get a craving for brains, wouldn’t it have happened by now?) and returned to the Laboratories to sleep and recuperate.
Fortunately town hall is not far from the lab, because I will admit that today has not been a good day for me. I did try to stifle my coughing, but it was quite hard. And that Renfold man, it’s horrible what happened to him, but I cannot be the only one who feels that if that is the sort of person in the Van Creed well….I certainly don’t want to have anything to do with them.
Still, he did drop some hints (which are no doubt already circulating the town). What struck me though, perhaps because of my current state, was his mention of the moon. It must be a coincidence (it has to be!) but Mr. Tenk had said something about the moon-hand being broken on one of the clocks, could the two be connected? It’s hard to say what is and isn’t, for instance…the Mayor practically slept through the whole meeting…it was very peculiar. But then the whole meeting was.
I’m not sure the smoke of the fire was the best thing given my current condition…
I think perhaps I had best set the writing aside for now and rest…
~S.MacB.
Bodies, Brooms & Immortality (Journal January 7, Morning)
Dear Journal,
Has the sun always been this bright and the city this noisy?
I perhaps indulged more than I should have last night, especially when I consider how little I had eaten and how ill I still felt from the rough air crossing and the train’s rocky-progress. But how could I not get caught up in the spirit when Miss Kaylee, Mr. Footman and even Mr. Tenk (not to mention Miss Beq) were all deep in the spirits yesterday? The only person to leave the Gangplank last night not completely sloshed was, I believe, Miss Jed. Oh, also I suppose that awful woman who was going on and on and on about….something, I forget.
Something about Mr. Underby maybe? It’ll come to me…ahh…the tea is ready…
Though I was gone only a few days it turns out that there was much to be missed. A body was found in the imperial theater (which Jed seems to think is a cursed building). Also, Footman Industries was attacked by some sort of automaton (or maybe it was more like Mr. Footman & Mr. Sixpence were attacked just outside the laboratory…). Also, those odd barrel things keep getting found all over the city. I checked the map that Mr. Tenk has set up, I can’t see any pattern to it. It’s all very curious.
Is it an attack on the city? Or is it all unconnected?
The body worries me, even if it is (according to both Jed and Grendel) an older corpse (IE Not fresh, at least a month old), does that mean there is a murderer on the loose?
Perhaps I should clean my rifle…
The experiment is fast approaching now. Mr. Lionheart last night was asking if I was worried and, since Mr. Footman was sitting there, I told him I wasn’t worried in the least.
It was, of course, a lie. I fret constantly about the experiment and my sleep is troubled by it. I have tried to keep only two possible outcomes in mind, as if they were the only way the experiment could go. In one outcome it works, everything is fine. In the second outcome I die, which might not seem like a good thing but it certainly beats all the little possible consequences that have been sneaking into my mind of late. The possibility of half-lives, of decay, of a mind gone sour, of an eternity spent searching for (as Mr. Footman sometimes calls them) replacement parts. I might be made completely dependent on Gizzzy and the Pengi and Mr. Footman himself for the rest of my un-life.
And then there is the possibility that I contract that disease and go around attempting to eat everyone I see.
I think it’s best if I don’t think about it anymore.
The trip to Orkney had a surprising end. I had expected my brother to ask me to do another task (he was, I know, quite pleased with my work in copying out those pages for him in December). What he did instead was to give me a gift and release me from my obligations to the family.
Just a ring with a name, but it is my ring and my name and an old family tradition.
I know the correct action is to have it melted down, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it.
I see the afternoon is calling.
I wonder what I should make for dinner?
~S. MacB.
P.S. A broom has appeared on my hearth…I’m really not sure where it came from or why someone would put it there. It is very curious, but hardly alarming.
Has the sun always been this bright and the city this noisy?
I perhaps indulged more than I should have last night, especially when I consider how little I had eaten and how ill I still felt from the rough air crossing and the train’s rocky-progress. But how could I not get caught up in the spirit when Miss Kaylee, Mr. Footman and even Mr. Tenk (not to mention Miss Beq) were all deep in the spirits yesterday? The only person to leave the Gangplank last night not completely sloshed was, I believe, Miss Jed. Oh, also I suppose that awful woman who was going on and on and on about….something, I forget.
Something about Mr. Underby maybe? It’ll come to me…ahh…the tea is ready…
Though I was gone only a few days it turns out that there was much to be missed. A body was found in the imperial theater (which Jed seems to think is a cursed building). Also, Footman Industries was attacked by some sort of automaton (or maybe it was more like Mr. Footman & Mr. Sixpence were attacked just outside the laboratory…). Also, those odd barrel things keep getting found all over the city. I checked the map that Mr. Tenk has set up, I can’t see any pattern to it. It’s all very curious.
Is it an attack on the city? Or is it all unconnected?
The body worries me, even if it is (according to both Jed and Grendel) an older corpse (IE Not fresh, at least a month old), does that mean there is a murderer on the loose?
Perhaps I should clean my rifle…
The experiment is fast approaching now. Mr. Lionheart last night was asking if I was worried and, since Mr. Footman was sitting there, I told him I wasn’t worried in the least.
It was, of course, a lie. I fret constantly about the experiment and my sleep is troubled by it. I have tried to keep only two possible outcomes in mind, as if they were the only way the experiment could go. In one outcome it works, everything is fine. In the second outcome I die, which might not seem like a good thing but it certainly beats all the little possible consequences that have been sneaking into my mind of late. The possibility of half-lives, of decay, of a mind gone sour, of an eternity spent searching for (as Mr. Footman sometimes calls them) replacement parts. I might be made completely dependent on Gizzzy and the Pengi and Mr. Footman himself for the rest of my un-life.
And then there is the possibility that I contract that disease and go around attempting to eat everyone I see.
I think it’s best if I don’t think about it anymore.
The trip to Orkney had a surprising end. I had expected my brother to ask me to do another task (he was, I know, quite pleased with my work in copying out those pages for him in December). What he did instead was to give me a gift and release me from my obligations to the family.
Just a ring with a name, but it is my ring and my name and an old family tradition.
I know the correct action is to have it melted down, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it.
I see the afternoon is calling.
I wonder what I should make for dinner?
~S. MacB.
P.S. A broom has appeared on my hearth…I’m really not sure where it came from or why someone would put it there. It is very curious, but hardly alarming.
New Years Eve (journal December 31)
Dear Journal,
Another year passes, and yet, here I am.
What can I say?
I am holding up my end of the bargain I made with Miss Mara and, whether it is a blessing or a curse, I am now learning to cook passable meals. I shall not make the mistake I made on Christmas Day again. I am still hesitant about being dragged into the politics of her kind, but I hold out hope that it will all come to my advantage at some point.
Mr. Footman has hired a new employee. I have explained to him that my hesitation stems not from jealousy (as he has implied) but rather from hesitation. Miss Gizzzy and I have become thick-as-thieves, and I think none would fault me for wishing it to stay as it has been. Nevertheless I think the new employee shall fit right in with our peculiar company, especially given her new years gift to me.
Mr. Underby, somehow, continues to stay just out of reach. It is vexing, but I must say I appreciate the challenge. I do hope it is not the wine talking when I say that, under different circumstances, he and I should have been powerful allies.
The experiment with he Immortalis serum draws closer. I have not revealed to Mr. Footman, nor shall I, my real reasons for wishing to be brought so close to death. He has been very kind about the process, explaining to me that I shall not truly die but rather my heart will slow to such a rate that it would seem as though I am dead. He went on to explain something about some culture somewhere…but to be honest I was distracted by a stain on the hem of my skirt.
I am sure everything will be fine, what could possibly go wrong?
I see the New Year draws close. My hearths are cleaned, my books arranged. All business from the aging year has been closed. I look the dawning of the New Year in the eye with hope in my heart.
~S. MacB.
Another year passes, and yet, here I am.
What can I say?
I am holding up my end of the bargain I made with Miss Mara and, whether it is a blessing or a curse, I am now learning to cook passable meals. I shall not make the mistake I made on Christmas Day again. I am still hesitant about being dragged into the politics of her kind, but I hold out hope that it will all come to my advantage at some point.
Mr. Footman has hired a new employee. I have explained to him that my hesitation stems not from jealousy (as he has implied) but rather from hesitation. Miss Gizzzy and I have become thick-as-thieves, and I think none would fault me for wishing it to stay as it has been. Nevertheless I think the new employee shall fit right in with our peculiar company, especially given her new years gift to me.
Mr. Underby, somehow, continues to stay just out of reach. It is vexing, but I must say I appreciate the challenge. I do hope it is not the wine talking when I say that, under different circumstances, he and I should have been powerful allies.
The experiment with he Immortalis serum draws closer. I have not revealed to Mr. Footman, nor shall I, my real reasons for wishing to be brought so close to death. He has been very kind about the process, explaining to me that I shall not truly die but rather my heart will slow to such a rate that it would seem as though I am dead. He went on to explain something about some culture somewhere…but to be honest I was distracted by a stain on the hem of my skirt.
I am sure everything will be fine, what could possibly go wrong?
I see the New Year draws close. My hearths are cleaned, my books arranged. All business from the aging year has been closed. I look the dawning of the New Year in the eye with hope in my heart.
~S. MacB.
After Christmas (Journal December 26)
Journal,
I have had, at this point, several long discussions with Mr. Footman about the experiment and am feeling a growing confidence in his abilities. I'd always thought he was a bit hap-hazard, but, for a change, he seems completely competent. I am sure the experiment will yield results.
I survived another Christmas and, even better, my brother did not summon me to London for the usual festivities. I am, to say the least, overjoyed. My relief at the holiday being over is palpable. I can almost taste the promise of a distant spring on the ear. Even my dreams have improved.
In fact, my mood was so jolly today that I baked some cookies (well...they were supposed to be cookies, really what they were were hard, round disks of gingerbread baked so dark they are nearly black) and went to deliver them around town. Of course I went by the Mayor's forge to leave some for him fully expecting him to be out on duty.
What I found there is distressing. The whole place looked as though it had been turned over and there was no sign of the Mayor. It seems a lot of people have gone missing recently, though some have been found.
I cannot get the image of the forge gone cold out of my head, it's haunting me like a sore tooth.
Perhaps, if it has not been put to rights in a few days, I shall go and clean it up. Perhaps Mr. Tenk has just gone on a vacation and someone took advantage of his absence. But even if that is not the case, I should dearly hate to return home to discover my hearth in such a state.
~S.MacB.
I have had, at this point, several long discussions with Mr. Footman about the experiment and am feeling a growing confidence in his abilities. I'd always thought he was a bit hap-hazard, but, for a change, he seems completely competent. I am sure the experiment will yield results.
I survived another Christmas and, even better, my brother did not summon me to London for the usual festivities. I am, to say the least, overjoyed. My relief at the holiday being over is palpable. I can almost taste the promise of a distant spring on the ear. Even my dreams have improved.
In fact, my mood was so jolly today that I baked some cookies (well...they were supposed to be cookies, really what they were were hard, round disks of gingerbread baked so dark they are nearly black) and went to deliver them around town. Of course I went by the Mayor's forge to leave some for him fully expecting him to be out on duty.
What I found there is distressing. The whole place looked as though it had been turned over and there was no sign of the Mayor. It seems a lot of people have gone missing recently, though some have been found.
I cannot get the image of the forge gone cold out of my head, it's haunting me like a sore tooth.
Perhaps, if it has not been put to rights in a few days, I shall go and clean it up. Perhaps Mr. Tenk has just gone on a vacation and someone took advantage of his absence. But even if that is not the case, I should dearly hate to return home to discover my hearth in such a state.
~S.MacB.
That Sinking Feeling (Journal December 23)
Journal,
Mr. Footman has informed me that he believes he is very near ready to test his syrum on me as he has had some success with the last batch. Due to my now severely disrupted sleep-habits (and my habit of taking to the streets in the middle of the night in order to stay awake just a few more hours...) and his, well, he doesn't sleep, we have spent several long evenings in eachother's company discussing his plan for preventing a further outbreak should the experiment go wrong.
Should I turn and Dr. Dayafter's cure not work I will (evidently) be shot in the head, decapitated, dismembered and then burned to white ash. I think perhaps I'll have a will drawn up before the day comes...
I had heard a rumor that Mr. Underby had moved from his home in Clockhaven to a new one in different part of town. I don't think anything Underby did in that home will have caused ghosts to settle in it; however, I couldn't help but feel the draw of curiosity when I discovered they were having Father Moonwall over to exocise the place.
I arrived right as Father Moonwall was leaving (rather abruptly, I gathered) and Miss Elle and Mr. Tenk seemed to want someone to go in. I volunteered, after all, I am rather familiar with the home as a result of Mr. Tenk's capture. Of course, nothing was found. The house was empty save for me and Mr. Footman trudging up the stairs, I saw no ghosts and the only ill-effect I can think of was a rather nasty headache that came on.
Naturally, one cannot do anything in this town without word spreading like wildfire and I was unsurprised to discover that Mr. Underby himself had arrived.
What followed I am not sure I can explain. Mr. Underby began to describe his new home and as he expounded on it's location and various features I felt my heart sink further and further. He is now well out of range of the Old District and ideally placed for one of his particular situation.
I understood the horror I felt, the cold dread seeping into my bones. I had thought his plotting would be over but now I am certain he has only been biding his time.
The most genuinely shocking thing about the entire encounter was Mr. Tenk, though I shall be honest Journal, I cannot tell when it comes to him. Was that blind fury or despair?
~S. MacB.
(posted as transcript by Mr. Tenk)
[20:56] Stargirl Macbain looks up at the house.
[20:56] Mosseveno Tenk: did that seem to end suddenly?
[20:56] Stargirl Macbain: Too suddenly....
[20:56] Elleon Bergamasco: it did.. and he seemed to be.. faltering..
[20:56] Grendel Footman: I was expecting more fire and brimstone
[20:56] Elleon Bergamasco: he was so eloquent, but when he got up to the attic...
[20:56] Mosseveno Tenk: How am i going to rent this house if it scared Moonwall away?!?!?!
[20:56] Stargirl Macbain: Perhaps....Someone should go in and check....
[20:57] Elleon Bergamasco looks at Stargirl
[20:57] Elleon Bergamasco: you don't believe in ghosts..
[20:57] Stargirl Macbain looks at Elleon, "People always believe what I say...it is such a gift."
[20:57] Grendel Footman: I can go take a look inside, just to see if anyting seems out of place
[20:58] Elleon Bergamasco: yes.. but .. carefully..
[20:58] Stargirl Macbain: Or I could....I'm quite familiar with the place.
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk: please do
[20:59] Stargirl Macbain: O..okay.
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk: i'll... wait outside.
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk: heh.
[20:59] Elleon Bergamasco waits here..
[20:59] Grendel Footman: well, to be honest, I kind of want to see what Underby may have left in there
[20:59] Stargirl Macbain: Right-o...three shakes...
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk smiles sheepishly
[20:59] Elleon Bergamasco goes to stand behind Tenk
[21:00] Stargirl Macbain looks around...
[21:00] Grendel Footman: seems bigger without all his shelves
[21:00] YoYo Underby: What are we looking at?
[21:00] Elleon Bergamasco jumps
[21:00] Elleon Bergamasco: Hello Mr Underby.... er.. just.. em..
[21:00] Stargirl Macbain looks out from the window
[21:00] Mosseveno Tenk: just, ah, getting the house prepped to show
[21:00] Grendel Footman: Helloooooo ghosties!
[21:01] YoYo Underby: Ah, yes. Of course. Mr Footman thinking of renting then?
[21:01] Stargirl Macbain gives a shrug.
[21:01] Elleon Bergamasco: perhaps?
[21:01] Elleon Bergamasco: or a friend of his..
[21:01] Stargirl Macbain: It doesn't seem any more creepy than when he was here....
[21:01] Grendel Footman: looks like Moonwell just spooked himself
[21:01] Stargirl Macbain: This place gives me a headache...
[21:01] Elleon Bergamasco says loudly "Hello Mr Underby"
[21:01] Grendel Footman: makes me itchy
[21:01] YoYo Underby: Hello Miss.
[21:01] Mosseveno Tenk: headache? nonsense. its just the cold.
[21:02] Elleon Bergamasco: it is rather cold.. perhaps it's time for some nice warm rum
[21:02] Grendel Footman: oh, Hello Underby
[21:02] YoYo Underby: Hello.
[21:03] Stargirl Macbain rubs her temples, "Hello Mr Underby."
[21:03] Grendel Footman: well, saw no ghosts
[21:03] Keithen Darkfold: Was there no ghosts?
[21:03] YoYo Underby: Mm, yes.
[21:03] YoYo Underby: Ghosts?
[21:03] Grendel Footman srugs 'didn't see any
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: er.. we thought we heard something..
[21:03] Stargirl Macbain: No, no ghosts. A lot of nonsense.
[21:03] YoYo Underby: What nonsense. Dead is dead.
[21:03] Keithen Darkfold: No ghosts? oh, Blast!!
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: of course.. how silly
[21:04] Grendel Footman: Moonwell must have spooked himself is all
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk: Moonwall could do that looking in a mirror...
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: have you a new home, Mr Underby?
[21:03] Mosseveno Tenk adjusts his toque and brushes the snow off his knee
[21:03] YoYo Underby: I do, yes.
[21:03] Mosseveno Tenk: Oh?
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: ahh , how nice..
[21:03] Mosseveno Tenk narrows his eyes... "Where?"
[21:04] YoYo Underby: I now have quarters at Oldbridge.
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk coughs
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk sputters... Oldbridge?
[21:04] YoYo Underby: Yes.
[21:04] Stargirl Macbain: Oldbridge?
[21:04] YoYo Underby smiles.
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk: you don't mean that house under the bridge?
[21:04] YoYo Underby: I do. Exactly.
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Not touching the soil of Bababge.
[21:05] Stargirl Macbain hides her dismay behind a violent cough.
[21:05] Mosseveno Tenk darkens
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Tidal water running underneath...
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Perfect for my tastes.
[21:05] Grendel Footman: running water?
[21:05] Stargirl Macbain: How lovely for you Mr Underby.
[21:05] Mosseveno Tenk 's face turns red with rage
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Yes, Iron Bay, in fact.
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Something wrong, Mr Tenk?
[21:06] Mosseveno Tenk glares up
[21:06] Mosseveno Tenk: No.
[21:06] Mosseveno Tenk: Of course not.
[21:06] Grendel Footman: I see *looks at Tenk* are you alright? you look a ittle upset
[21:06] Elleon Bergamasco: well.. how lovely for you Mr Underby...
[21:06] YoYo Underby: Yes, you should all come by sometime...
[21:07] YoYo Underby: Complimentary reading.
[21:07] Mosseveno Tenk seethes
[21:07] YoYo Underby: I should take my leave...
[21:07] Stargirl Macbain: Well...I do need my fortune told...solstice just passed...
[21:07] Elleon Bergamasco: er... yes.. certainly..
[21:07] YoYo Underby: Good evening to you all
[21:07] Elleon Bergamasco: Good night Mr Underby
[21:07] YoYo Underby nods
[21:07] Grendel Footman: good evening Underby
[21:07] Stargirl Macbain: Good evening Mr Underby.
[21:07] Keithen Darkfold gets chills
[21:07] Elleon Bergamasco: em... didn't he give notice Tenk?
[21:07] Mosseveno Tenk slams his wrench against the pavers and howls
[21:08] Elleon Bergamasco: or leave with unpaid rent?
[21:08] Stargirl Macbain jumps
[21:08] Keithen Darkfold: Ive been listening to to many ghost stories..
[21:08] Stargirl Macbain: Clockwinder!
[21:08] Mosseveno Tenk: that BASTARD!
[21:08] Keithen Darkfold gasps "Mr Tenk, is somthing troubling you?"
[21:08] Elleon Bergamasco: well.. he's got an apartment he can't rent now... and Underby is paying his coppers to Obolensky.. I would guess..
[21:08] Kit SpiritWeaver sniffs the air warily
[21:09] Mosseveno Tenk yells and throws a hammer at Underby's back
[21:09] Mosseveno Tenk misses
[21:09] YoYo Underby: YIPE
[21:09] Mosseveno Tenk: YOU!
[21:10] YoYo Underby: Mm?
[21:10] Mosseveno Tenk: gah!
[21:10] Mosseveno Tenk winds up to take a swing at Underby and rushes him
[21:10] Mosseveno Tenk stops in mid swing
[21:11] YoYo Underby moves back
[21:11] YoYo Underby: What?
[21:11] YoYo Underby: How dare you.
[21:11] Mosseveno Tenk yells in frustration
[21:11] YoYo Underby: You have no cause for such actions
[21:11] YoYo Underby: You are quite mad.
[21:11] Mosseveno Tenk: what did you do?!
[21:11] YoYo Underby: Do?
[21:11] Mosseveno Tenk makes a snowball
[21:12] YoYo Underby: Do to what?
[21:12] Mosseveno Tenk hurls it at you
[21:12] YoYo Underby is hit in the face
[21:12] YoYo Underby: Mad!
[21:13] Stargirl Macbain: all right?
[21:13] Mosseveno Tenk throws his hammer on the ground and curses in a foreign language
[21:14] Stargirl Macbain assumes an air of calm, "Anything else you'd like to throw?"
[21:14] Mosseveno Tenk glares at the woman.
[21:14] Mosseveno Tenk: Yes.
[21:14] Stargirl Macbain: Do so. you'll feel bettter.
[21:16] Mosseveno Tenk: I need a drink...
[21:17] Stargirl Macbain: Yes. You do.
[21:17] Stargirl Macbain points up the ally.
[21:17] Stargirl Macbain: Don't forget your hammer.
Mr. Footman has informed me that he believes he is very near ready to test his syrum on me as he has had some success with the last batch. Due to my now severely disrupted sleep-habits (and my habit of taking to the streets in the middle of the night in order to stay awake just a few more hours...) and his, well, he doesn't sleep, we have spent several long evenings in eachother's company discussing his plan for preventing a further outbreak should the experiment go wrong.
Should I turn and Dr. Dayafter's cure not work I will (evidently) be shot in the head, decapitated, dismembered and then burned to white ash. I think perhaps I'll have a will drawn up before the day comes...
I had heard a rumor that Mr. Underby had moved from his home in Clockhaven to a new one in different part of town. I don't think anything Underby did in that home will have caused ghosts to settle in it; however, I couldn't help but feel the draw of curiosity when I discovered they were having Father Moonwall over to exocise the place.
I arrived right as Father Moonwall was leaving (rather abruptly, I gathered) and Miss Elle and Mr. Tenk seemed to want someone to go in. I volunteered, after all, I am rather familiar with the home as a result of Mr. Tenk's capture. Of course, nothing was found. The house was empty save for me and Mr. Footman trudging up the stairs, I saw no ghosts and the only ill-effect I can think of was a rather nasty headache that came on.
Naturally, one cannot do anything in this town without word spreading like wildfire and I was unsurprised to discover that Mr. Underby himself had arrived.
What followed I am not sure I can explain. Mr. Underby began to describe his new home and as he expounded on it's location and various features I felt my heart sink further and further. He is now well out of range of the Old District and ideally placed for one of his particular situation.
I understood the horror I felt, the cold dread seeping into my bones. I had thought his plotting would be over but now I am certain he has only been biding his time.
The most genuinely shocking thing about the entire encounter was Mr. Tenk, though I shall be honest Journal, I cannot tell when it comes to him. Was that blind fury or despair?
~S. MacB.
(posted as transcript by Mr. Tenk)
[20:56] Stargirl Macbain looks up at the house.
[20:56] Mosseveno Tenk: did that seem to end suddenly?
[20:56] Stargirl Macbain: Too suddenly....
[20:56] Elleon Bergamasco: it did.. and he seemed to be.. faltering..
[20:56] Grendel Footman: I was expecting more fire and brimstone
[20:56] Elleon Bergamasco: he was so eloquent, but when he got up to the attic...
[20:56] Mosseveno Tenk: How am i going to rent this house if it scared Moonwall away?!?!?!
[20:56] Stargirl Macbain: Perhaps....Someone should go in and check....
[20:57] Elleon Bergamasco looks at Stargirl
[20:57] Elleon Bergamasco: you don't believe in ghosts..
[20:57] Stargirl Macbain looks at Elleon, "People always believe what I say...it is such a gift."
[20:57] Grendel Footman: I can go take a look inside, just to see if anyting seems out of place
[20:58] Elleon Bergamasco: yes.. but .. carefully..
[20:58] Stargirl Macbain: Or I could....I'm quite familiar with the place.
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk: please do
[20:59] Stargirl Macbain: O..okay.
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk: i'll... wait outside.
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk: heh.
[20:59] Elleon Bergamasco waits here..
[20:59] Grendel Footman: well, to be honest, I kind of want to see what Underby may have left in there
[20:59] Stargirl Macbain: Right-o...three shakes...
[20:59] Mosseveno Tenk smiles sheepishly
[20:59] Elleon Bergamasco goes to stand behind Tenk
[21:00] Stargirl Macbain looks around...
[21:00] Grendel Footman: seems bigger without all his shelves
[21:00] YoYo Underby: What are we looking at?
[21:00] Elleon Bergamasco jumps
[21:00] Elleon Bergamasco: Hello Mr Underby.... er.. just.. em..
[21:00] Stargirl Macbain looks out from the window
[21:00] Mosseveno Tenk: just, ah, getting the house prepped to show
[21:00] Grendel Footman: Helloooooo ghosties!
[21:01] YoYo Underby: Ah, yes. Of course. Mr Footman thinking of renting then?
[21:01] Stargirl Macbain gives a shrug.
[21:01] Elleon Bergamasco: perhaps?
[21:01] Elleon Bergamasco: or a friend of his..
[21:01] Stargirl Macbain: It doesn't seem any more creepy than when he was here....
[21:01] Grendel Footman: looks like Moonwell just spooked himself
[21:01] Stargirl Macbain: This place gives me a headache...
[21:01] Elleon Bergamasco says loudly "Hello Mr Underby"
[21:01] Grendel Footman: makes me itchy
[21:01] YoYo Underby: Hello Miss.
[21:01] Mosseveno Tenk: headache? nonsense. its just the cold.
[21:02] Elleon Bergamasco: it is rather cold.. perhaps it's time for some nice warm rum
[21:02] Grendel Footman: oh, Hello Underby
[21:02] YoYo Underby: Hello.
[21:03] Stargirl Macbain rubs her temples, "Hello Mr Underby."
[21:03] Grendel Footman: well, saw no ghosts
[21:03] Keithen Darkfold: Was there no ghosts?
[21:03] YoYo Underby: Mm, yes.
[21:03] YoYo Underby: Ghosts?
[21:03] Grendel Footman srugs 'didn't see any
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: er.. we thought we heard something..
[21:03] Stargirl Macbain: No, no ghosts. A lot of nonsense.
[21:03] YoYo Underby: What nonsense. Dead is dead.
[21:03] Keithen Darkfold: No ghosts? oh, Blast!!
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: of course.. how silly
[21:04] Grendel Footman: Moonwell must have spooked himself is all
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk: Moonwall could do that looking in a mirror...
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: have you a new home, Mr Underby?
[21:03] Mosseveno Tenk adjusts his toque and brushes the snow off his knee
[21:03] YoYo Underby: I do, yes.
[21:03] Mosseveno Tenk: Oh?
[21:03] Elleon Bergamasco: ahh , how nice..
[21:03] Mosseveno Tenk narrows his eyes... "Where?"
[21:04] YoYo Underby: I now have quarters at Oldbridge.
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk coughs
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk sputters... Oldbridge?
[21:04] YoYo Underby: Yes.
[21:04] Stargirl Macbain: Oldbridge?
[21:04] YoYo Underby smiles.
[21:04] Mosseveno Tenk: you don't mean that house under the bridge?
[21:04] YoYo Underby: I do. Exactly.
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Not touching the soil of Bababge.
[21:05] Stargirl Macbain hides her dismay behind a violent cough.
[21:05] Mosseveno Tenk darkens
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Tidal water running underneath...
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Perfect for my tastes.
[21:05] Grendel Footman: running water?
[21:05] Stargirl Macbain: How lovely for you Mr Underby.
[21:05] Mosseveno Tenk 's face turns red with rage
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Yes, Iron Bay, in fact.
[21:05] YoYo Underby: Something wrong, Mr Tenk?
[21:06] Mosseveno Tenk glares up
[21:06] Mosseveno Tenk: No.
[21:06] Mosseveno Tenk: Of course not.
[21:06] Grendel Footman: I see *looks at Tenk* are you alright? you look a ittle upset
[21:06] Elleon Bergamasco: well.. how lovely for you Mr Underby...
[21:06] YoYo Underby: Yes, you should all come by sometime...
[21:07] YoYo Underby: Complimentary reading.
[21:07] Mosseveno Tenk seethes
[21:07] YoYo Underby: I should take my leave...
[21:07] Stargirl Macbain: Well...I do need my fortune told...solstice just passed...
[21:07] Elleon Bergamasco: er... yes.. certainly..
[21:07] YoYo Underby: Good evening to you all
[21:07] Elleon Bergamasco: Good night Mr Underby
[21:07] YoYo Underby nods
[21:07] Grendel Footman: good evening Underby
[21:07] Stargirl Macbain: Good evening Mr Underby.
[21:07] Keithen Darkfold gets chills
[21:07] Elleon Bergamasco: em... didn't he give notice Tenk?
[21:07] Mosseveno Tenk slams his wrench against the pavers and howls
[21:08] Elleon Bergamasco: or leave with unpaid rent?
[21:08] Stargirl Macbain jumps
[21:08] Keithen Darkfold: Ive been listening to to many ghost stories..
[21:08] Stargirl Macbain: Clockwinder!
[21:08] Mosseveno Tenk: that BASTARD!
[21:08] Keithen Darkfold gasps "Mr Tenk, is somthing troubling you?"
[21:08] Elleon Bergamasco: well.. he's got an apartment he can't rent now... and Underby is paying his coppers to Obolensky.. I would guess..
[21:08] Kit SpiritWeaver sniffs the air warily
[21:09] Mosseveno Tenk yells and throws a hammer at Underby's back
[21:09] Mosseveno Tenk misses
[21:09] YoYo Underby: YIPE
[21:09] Mosseveno Tenk: YOU!
[21:10] YoYo Underby: Mm?
[21:10] Mosseveno Tenk: gah!
[21:10] Mosseveno Tenk winds up to take a swing at Underby and rushes him
[21:10] Mosseveno Tenk stops in mid swing
[21:11] YoYo Underby moves back
[21:11] YoYo Underby: What?
[21:11] YoYo Underby: How dare you.
[21:11] Mosseveno Tenk yells in frustration
[21:11] YoYo Underby: You have no cause for such actions
[21:11] YoYo Underby: You are quite mad.
[21:11] Mosseveno Tenk: what did you do?!
[21:11] YoYo Underby: Do?
[21:11] Mosseveno Tenk makes a snowball
[21:12] YoYo Underby: Do to what?
[21:12] Mosseveno Tenk hurls it at you
[21:12] YoYo Underby is hit in the face
[21:12] YoYo Underby: Mad!
[21:13] Stargirl Macbain: all right?
[21:13] Mosseveno Tenk throws his hammer on the ground and curses in a foreign language
[21:14] Stargirl Macbain assumes an air of calm, "Anything else you'd like to throw?"
[21:14] Mosseveno Tenk glares at the woman.
[21:14] Mosseveno Tenk: Yes.
[21:14] Stargirl Macbain: Do so. you'll feel bettter.
[21:16] Mosseveno Tenk: I need a drink...
[21:17] Stargirl Macbain: Yes. You do.
[21:17] Stargirl Macbain points up the ally.
[21:17] Stargirl Macbain: Don't forget your hammer.
The Bad Dream
Star woke with a feeling that something was wrong. Some noise, a hissing sound, like someone shushing another to silence, had roused her from her sleep. She blinked blearily, not remembering falling asleep at her desk. The fire had burned down to embers, her candle was a watery stub, the wick so recently extinguished that she suspected for a moment the hiss had been the sound of the flame drowning in wax.
But there was something else, a sense of wrong, a growing dread. The room was too dark, she realized, standing stiffly and walking to the window. She felt her heart stop: all the street lamps in front of her home were out, but even so, she could see the faint outlines of cloaked figures gathering in the street. “They’ve found me...” she thought irrationally, for a moment completely paralyzed at the window. Then she was dashing down the stairs, no thought in her mind except to escape as she yanked open the garden door and leapt out into the night only to be snatched from mid-air by a pair of thick arms.
She screamed, kicking out, trying to struggle free, surely someone would hear her, come to help her.
A hand clamped down so hard over her mouth and nose that for a moment she thought she would suffocate, a familiar voice hissed into her ear, “Now now, Miss Allen, you didn’t think you could hide from us forever, did you?” She tried to bite the hand.
“Oh, don’t be unpleasant dear. You’ll be happy, we are just taking you home. Don’t you want to go home again, darling? Aren’t you tired of hiding, of the lies?” She whimpered a response, her hands were being bound behind her back with rough rope. The man let go of her and she stumbled forward. There was a peculiar crackling sound, a feeling of warmth rushing over her.
“My god,” she thought, “They are burning down my home.” But when she raised her eyes what she saw was not her home, but a figure swathed in flames walking toward her and projecting an air of triumph.
She turned to run…
...and woke screaming, ensnared in her sheets so thoroughly that she thumped to the floor in an ungainly heap. She lay paralyzed for a moment, realizing that it had been a dream, trying to shake the feelings that lingered. Slowly she detangled herself, spreading the blanket with a precise neatness. As she righted the pillows she spotted the coin that had been hidden beneath them. It felt warm as she wrapped her fingers around it and she felt the cold dread inside of her expand again, a rushing sound filling her ears.
The charm had failed.
(Hmm..it's been a while since I've written something that wasn't a first-person journal entry)
But there was something else, a sense of wrong, a growing dread. The room was too dark, she realized, standing stiffly and walking to the window. She felt her heart stop: all the street lamps in front of her home were out, but even so, she could see the faint outlines of cloaked figures gathering in the street. “They’ve found me...” she thought irrationally, for a moment completely paralyzed at the window. Then she was dashing down the stairs, no thought in her mind except to escape as she yanked open the garden door and leapt out into the night only to be snatched from mid-air by a pair of thick arms.
She screamed, kicking out, trying to struggle free, surely someone would hear her, come to help her.
A hand clamped down so hard over her mouth and nose that for a moment she thought she would suffocate, a familiar voice hissed into her ear, “Now now, Miss Allen, you didn’t think you could hide from us forever, did you?” She tried to bite the hand.
“Oh, don’t be unpleasant dear. You’ll be happy, we are just taking you home. Don’t you want to go home again, darling? Aren’t you tired of hiding, of the lies?” She whimpered a response, her hands were being bound behind her back with rough rope. The man let go of her and she stumbled forward. There was a peculiar crackling sound, a feeling of warmth rushing over her.
“My god,” she thought, “They are burning down my home.” But when she raised her eyes what she saw was not her home, but a figure swathed in flames walking toward her and projecting an air of triumph.
She turned to run…
...and woke screaming, ensnared in her sheets so thoroughly that she thumped to the floor in an ungainly heap. She lay paralyzed for a moment, realizing that it had been a dream, trying to shake the feelings that lingered. Slowly she detangled herself, spreading the blanket with a precise neatness. As she righted the pillows she spotted the coin that had been hidden beneath them. It felt warm as she wrapped her fingers around it and she felt the cold dread inside of her expand again, a rushing sound filling her ears.
The charm had failed.
(Hmm..it's been a while since I've written something that wasn't a first-person journal entry)
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