Original image: http://ffffound.com/image/508c657e21642aca5803abf6521b9a672bef4ea3
More Margaux: http://1000days.douglasblaine.com/tag/margaux/
From Jasper: http://1000days.douglasblaine.com/tag/jasper/
Following my hiatus, I’m not ready to go full spontaneous narrative. This morning I’ll merely speculate spontaneously about Margaux’s role in this growing but unnamed thread.
Possibly I should get a name for it? Or did I have one and forgot? Rummaging…nothing definitive.
The artwork of the two inspirational images ties Margaux to Jasper in my mind. I may have found them around the same time, but I’d have linked the two images regardless as the engender thoughts of a similar theme for me: children of responsibility, earthy human magic, and tainted whimsy. I saw Margaux as maybe something of a Hermione to Jasper’s Harry–though I’ve only just articulated that thought in those terms just now. At he very least I saw her in opposition of Ned Who-needs-a-last-name. As Jasper also opposes Ned that paired the two.
Margaux is tied into a classical oracular magic. Something a bit more business-like I suppose. She’s especially skilled at it, but I’m thinking technically anyone the dons the Chronicaller would be able to tap into it’s powers. Maybe she otherwise possesses a general level of magic like most folks, but in regards to the Chronicaller she’s exceptional. Seems unlikely that she’d gain access to that helm through typical means. I’ll need to address how she gets involved in the more adult magic.
Maybe not. Maybe adults don’t have magic. Maybe that’s how Jasper ends up writing his fifth and final spell (rather than dying–which is what I thought before). Still, since Margaux is otherwise typical there would need to be an explanation of her coming into contact with the Chronicaller.
I wonder if she runs around with Jasper or if they merely bump into each other from time to time. I don’t see this as a team-up situation. The later seems more likely so I suspect I’ll need a way for them to contact each other over distances. Cell phones and texting or something my magical? I like the practical common option the most. So now I need a reason for Jasper to be out there running around and Margaux not to be. Could be she’s in a wheel chair or bound by circumstance or geography.
What does Margaux want in all this? I’m not finding much conflict here. Maybe she wants to be the best Chronicaller she can be. She doesn’t much care about what she finds or does, she just wants to be the most precise, the most accurate, the fastest to the answer. And the Chronicaller gets stolen. And since her magic is due to evaporate as she becomes an adult they need to get it back to get the best prophecies for the future?
I’m going to see what I can do to patch up yesterday’s mess…
Margaux cinched the leather chin strap until she heard the groan of leather on leather. She worked her jaw against the strap while snugging the helmet-like Chronicaller onto her head with her small hands. If it sat loosely it got off symmetry. If it got off symmetry she’d get funky results and a headache. And she didn’t want a headache.
The grade schooler leaned forward to better balance the mass of copper and leather and shell and wood and rubber tubing that made up the Chronicaller. It looked like a brain might look had it been designed by an artistic god who’d seen a real brain for a moment and then been given a week and a box of garage sale junk to come up with a working replica. The Chronicaller now settled, Margaux removed the mouthpiece from it’s perch and situated it between her lips. She blew lightly to check the rested tuning. With expert fingers she dialed in a finer pitch and blew again–still lightly. Satisfied with the result, she unlatched a locked rubber tube along the sagittal line and actuated two copper levers: one on the left and one on the right near the base of her skull. Some part, one she’d never identified precisely but guessed was the transcrystor, warmed to a hum as the released gases rushed over it.
She quickly rubbed her palms and placed them on the nautilus-like swirls on her temples afraid the suddenly cooled pressure tanks would freeze the delicate shells. The familiar hum would pitch up until the disparate temperatures evened out then it would begin to drop down. Careful to breathe through her nose she kept her tongue over the mouthpiece to avoid any premature winding of the Chronicaller. Then she simply waited.
Tendrils of near-blonde red hair stuck out from under the cumbersome headpiece like vines struggling under a fence. She looked like a nun at prayer.
More pleased with this edit and the additions than I was with yesterday’s bits. I meant o squeeze some damn springs in there somewhere but may have to do that at another time.
Margaux cinched the leather chin strap tightly to hear the groan of leather on leather. She worked her jaw around while snugging the helmet-like Chronicaller onto her head. If it sat loosely it would get off symmetry. If it got off symmetry she’d get funky results and a headache. And she didn’t want a headache. The Chronicaller looked like a brain might look had it been designed by an artistic god who’d seen a real brain for a moment and then been given a week to come up with a replica. Now snug, Margaux removed the mouthpiece from it’s perch and situated it between her lips. She blew lightly to check the resting tune. With expert fingers she dialed in a finer note and blew again–still lightly. As a result she unlatched a locked rubber tube along the sagittal and actuated two copper levers: one on the left and one on the right near the base of her skull. Tendrils of near-blonde red hair stuck out from under the cumbersome headpiece like a bad neighbor’s vines growing under a fence.
She leaned forward to better balance the mass of copper and leather and shell and wood and rubber tubing that made up the Chronicaller.
OK, gonna need to come back to this mess another day.