Springvley, 42nd winter 227
Sister,
I found Clouds.
As I was making tea this morning, I noticed a fully-fledged cupboard I had never seen before laid right where I expected my clockwork cabinet to be. This wasn’t the first time one of the larger furniture was not what I expected to be, so I refused to pay too much attention to it. That is, until it heard a knock at the door.
As impossibly confused as I find myself in this house, nothing actually ever tried to grab my attention through noises. I don’t think the house can do that.
Carefully as I could, I approached the cupboard, opened the door, and found myself facing my friend
They looked terrible, as if they were completely desiccated. Even worse, their legs seemed to fade into the cupboard, as if the boundary between them and the furniture was not clear. And yet, they were breathing.
I dropped on my knees and took my friend’s hand, tears filling my eyes. They opened their dehydrated mouth and produced a sound that was right between a moan and a door creaking, which made me slightly panic. I produced a cup of water from my pitcher, and slowly poured a bit down their mouth. I put the rest of the water on the side to prevent them from choking, and stood up. I had to find a doctor, someone to help me get them out and heal them. I promised Clouds I was back in a minute, and rushed outside for help.
After a moment, I came back with two neighbours more concerned by my panicked look than my story. As we reached the kitchen, a cup and a pitcher laid next to my clockwork cabinet, a small puddle of water on the ground. The cupboard was gone, and so was my friend.
I think this was the final straw. The house taunted me, dared me to act. So I did.
There is a witch’s hut in the main square. It is a small tent, covered with symbols and markings. Of course, I never really approached it before: I am not one to waste my time with the sort of nonsense a diviner would tell me. These days, though, I am out of options. So I approached the hut, and waited to be allowed in.
Inside, the hut felt smaller than on the outside. It was positively cramped with parchments, hanging symbols and ingredients, leaving only a small space for clients to sit and an even smaller space for the witch to stand on.
The witch was of Birdkin. In fact, their feathers were so covered in ash and ink markings and their eyes were behind such large glasses that they almost looked like an owl.
Before I got the chance to fully adjust to the place, the bird addressed me:
“Come closer, Lawyer. My eyes are not what they used to be”.
I was surprised to be called Lawyer, given how long I had not been in office. What for? People do not even seem to notice me, and I highly inefficient these days. My head’s a blur. I asked: “How do you know who I am?”
Not answering, they took a long gaze at me, as if they tried to memorize every one of my features. Then, they spoke again: “I know why you are before me. Your bear a shifting mark.”
“Can you help me?”
“What you seek to destroy has no shape of its own. Hitting it with a mace like you have done cannot help. Tell me Lawyer, what is it you do when trying to when trying to explore and understand the layout of something you do not know?”
After a moment of hesitation, I suggested: “I… use a map?”
The witch nodded.
“But where can I find a map of the house? The agency told me they had no layout of the building!”
“No map can be found of the place you seek to master. One can, however, be made.”
I thought about this silently for a moment. Then I asked: “Are you are telling me to… draw a map? Of my apartment? Do you think it will help?”
With an even tone, they answered: “It may”.
And this was it. I left the tent, and went home. Of course, I did think of mapping the apartment before. I discarded the idea, though: didn’t quite think it was feasible. How can I create a map of something that loses its structure whenever I am looking away?
Still, the witch’s answer was pretty straightforward, and more definitive than I thought. The best I can do is try. For Clouds, and for my own sake.
With love,
P̵̞̈́l̶͜͝u̵͚͋m̷̙̆e̶̢̒
