[Sequel][Worm/His Dark Materials] whatever little chance of safety there is

[YseultNott]

It takes a week in total for Colin to finish his assignment.

It's mass. Too late for him to get in without disturbing the service. Better not to risk it.

It's strange, really, to walk through the halls when no one is there. The building seems taller, wider, full of more light and echoes.

His feet carry him to Taylor's room. There is dust on the shelves. She must have slept somewhere else in his absence.

It's her birthday tomorrow.

The candy is still in his pocket, and the yellow wrapper feels like it's burning through the fabric of his coat, like red-hot iron pressed against his skin, like a brand or punishment.

(He should have gotten rid of it.)

Colin walks to Taylor's closet.

(He should have thrown it away.)

Colin opens Taylor's drawer.

(He shouldn't be doing this.)

Colin hides the candy there.

 

[YseultNott]

Colin is back.

Taylor is in the courtyard, sitting on the bench with the strange man, trying to make sense of his fingers against her palms, when she sees him.

(She understands a few of those finger-words already. Hello. Good bye. Dinner. Mass. Thank you.)

(She's not used to thank yous. Not when she isn't the one saying them.)

(Maybe it's why she likes the strange man. Why she sits down with him when she could have run instead.)

Colin is back.

Taylor gets up, letting go of the strange man's hand, and maybe she will apologize, later, maybe she will try to find the shape of a sorry in her hand, but for now, she doesn't care.

Taylor runs.

Colin catches her, and holds her tight.

 

[YseultNott]

"I heard you met Matthew," Father Rennick says that evening.

"Matthew?" Colin asks.

The question is pointless, perfunctory. There is only one person it could be, really, as they both know.

(The man in the courtyard had a bird daemon, great wings and pale feathers and scars like cobwebs wrapped around her.)

(The man in the courtyard had a bird daemon, with a red beak and black markings.)

"He is not Wicked," Father Rennick says, "or Wayward. He never… Fell, to temptation, as you did, Nicholas, although I have to say you had your part in the making of his gifts."

There is something like a stone in Colin's stomach, something like dread, and the warm glow of the ambaric light seems to dim.

(Taylor. Taylor, screaming for her mother, and Alasdair's feathers, going from brown to white.)

Colin swallows.

"You said he wasn't Wayward," he says. "Nor Wicked."

"No," Father Rennick says. "You see, his gifts are from us. Through, of course, the guidance of the Authority."

"I don't understand," Colin says.

"Mrs Hebert," Father Rennick answers, and it takes a second to Colin to realize he's not talking about Taylor, "under our guidance, has made great progress in her research, and has put to good use the results of the failed Intercision project. We are going from theory to practice, and despite a few mishaps, the overall results are positive."

Intercision. The Silver Guillotine.

The rest of the conversation goes by as through a fog, and when he is freed for the rest of the night Colin walks to the bathroom, too-bright white and cold tiles, hall of mirrors he refuses to look in.

A scarred daemon. A silver knife.

He bends over the sink to be sick.

 

[YseultNott]

It had been a long time since Colin last read her a story.

Taylor isn't sure why he asked her if she wanted one, all of a sudden. She's not a child anymore, she doesn't need him to go to sleep. It's stupid.

It would be rude to say.

"Why not?" she says instead, and Alasdair turns into a cat to purr in her lap, and Colin sits at the edge of her bed, just like when she was little.

The Prodigal Son. Colin likes this story, she thinks. It was the one he'd read the most, after the one of Noah and his Ark, which was her favorite.

(After the ones her mom used to tell her, the ones she barely remembers anymore.)

"Taylor?" Colin says. "I'm… I'm glad, you know. That you… That you're there, and you grew up, and… I'm glad."

"Thanks," Taylor says.

(She wishes, a bit, that she could have grown up at home.)

 

[YseultNott]

There is talk, Colin heard, of Taylor getting assignments now that she is grown.

(She isn't. She isn't. She's still so young, a child really, she isn't ready for any of this.)

She's thirteen. Two years younger than he was.

(She needs more time.)

It was a long time coming.

(He needs more time.)

He should have taught her better. Maybe she would be ready, then. He always knew it, after all, knew that she was Defiled, Vitiated, Wayward, knew that one day it would be her turn to serve.

Like him. Like her mother.

(Like Matthew.)

He only has himself to blame, really.

 

[punster lv1]

He only has himself to blame

Click to shrink...

Completely different context but nowaday I can't read that line without hearing Cell Block Tango.
He had it coming. He had it coming. He only has himself to blame.

 

[YseultNott]

"Congratulations, Taylor," Father Rennick says, and he puts hand on her shoulder. "You did well."

Taylor doesn't answer.

(Alasdair, perched on the windowsill as far away as he can go, refuses to look at her.)

(She refuses to look at him.)

"I know it's hard," he says, softer, kinder than she ever heard him. "Don't worry. It will get easier, eventually. Once you understand why it was necessary."

(She should, she knows she should. She's being difficult, being rude, she's not on her best behavior, and anything less than so is unacceptable.)

(She can't bring her mouth to open.)

"I will give you a few minutes to gather yourself," Father Rennick says, and the door closes behind him as he leaves her alone.

(Alone, like she was when Colin took her mom away. Alone, like the woman in the church was, standing over the small coffin. Alone, like everyone felt when Alasdair turned into an owl.)

(The woman was angry and Taylor made her scared. )

The worst part is, usually, Alasdair isn't allowed to turn into an owl.

The worst part is, it itches, deep inside somewhere she can't reach, that he can't. That a whole part of her is forbidden to see, to touch, to be. That she doesn't get to try it.

The worst part is, it felt good.

 

[YseultNott]

"How do you do it?" Taylor asks, and Colin, Colin isn't sure how to answer.

It isn't an easy question.

"How do I do what?" he says. He stalls.

"All of it," Taylor says, and she looks small, sullen, and Colin feels a pinch of guilt at his own deflection. "Just… How do you go, and do what the Magisterium asks?"

"Taylor," Colin starts, because no matter how upset she is that is dangerous talk, but she ignores him and continues her logorrhoea.

"They hate us!" Taylor says, half yell and half whisper. "They hate us, and we go and do things that make them hate us even more, to please people who also hate us, and how do you do it?"

She sobs.

"How do you keep doing it?" Taylor asks.

Colin is very, very tired.

"It's… It's penance," he says, and the words feel awkward on his tongue, stumbling, meaningless in the saying of things he never said. "It's not supposed to be pleasant. And…"

And it was his fault. For himself and for her.

"...And of course it hurts," Colin continues. "Of course it hurts, and it keeps hurting and it never really stop hurting. But…"

He pauses again, trying to find the words through the clumsiness of his tongue.

"It's penance," Colin says. "It's not easy, but it's a redemption. It's just…"

He tries to smile. He doesn't think he does.

"It's just a matter of holding on long enough to get to a better world."

Spoiler: Final Author Note

And That's done! Retrospective coming tomorrow, but that's it for this story! I hope you had fun!

 

[Tascion]

And That's done! Retrospective coming tomorrow, but that's it for this story! I hope you had fun!

Click to shrink...

I wouldn't call it 'fun', but it was a good read.

 

[YseultNott]

The thing about and walked into the sky I feel was the biggest dropped ball was the pacing, which itself mostly suffered from the point of view rotation, I think. I wanted to have Annette, then Taylor, as main characters and main point of view characters, but I also wanted to have shorter arc with frequent interludes to carry Colin's story. The issue is that instead of spreading the story over more arcs, I ended up condensing more story into less chapter, which set a pace that was far too abrupt, as well as not letting the story enough space to do what I was trying to do, which was building Colin as an antagonist in Annette's chapters before having him as an ally in Taylor's.

I didn't have those issues in whatever little chance of safety there is. I wouldn't say the pacing on it was exceptional, but it was serviceable, and the focus on emotional and interpersonal elements rather than action gave more space to the characters to feel like people, leading to a more organic character development. I don't think it's my best story in that regard, but it isn't my worst either, and I think I did kind of okay. Overall, I am more satisfied with whatever little chance of safety there is than I was with and walked into the sky, despite getting far less readers and feedback on it. That said, said feedback did bring up two points to my attention.

The first of those points is, again, a question of point of view, with some readers being confused by who was the point of view character in the second part. In hindsight, I understand where this criticism is coming from. In both and walked into the sky and the first part of whatever little chance of safety there is, there had been only one point of view character per arc, only switching for interludes, and the reader has therefore all reasons to believe that the point of view character in Miles would be either Colin or Taylor, rather than alternating between them every chapter. An easy, and likely necessary, solution, would have been to add the name of the point of view character at the start of each chapter, either in the title or above the text of the chapter proper, as I have done in the past to indicate time or point of view changes. However, I am wary of using it as a crutch, and will attempt to work on character voices in the future.

The second point was actually brought up prior to the posting of whatever little chance of safety there is, while in the editing stage of the writing process, and regards the ending, considered too abrupt. I didn't end up rewriting the ending, both because I also received conflicting feedback that the ending was fine as is and because I couldn't think of a way to rewrite it, but it isn't the first time I have been told that the ending was too sudden or abrupt (or even the last, as my next story, in the last stage of editing, has received a similar comment). As such, I will attempt to work on having softer endings in the future (and generally better ones, as much as possible.)

Thanks to all of you for reading!