Chapter 7
Yeah, they don't 'emphafize' with girls like that... actually, they don't empathize with any kind of girls... they just won't admit it. Whatever, I can manage on my own. I plan to see what's in that backpack... maybe there's another collar that can turn me back... maybe I can somehow find a way to open that portal."
Bise curled up on one of the black leather armchairs in the living room, brooding far away from the other furries, who were still upset with her over a joke.
"It’s so boring to just vegetate here all by myself... I should at least read something. I think I know where Aeolus hides a book or two for reading, and I think he has a book of poetry..."
Both the sofa and the armchairs in Anemo's house had these pocket-like pouches at the back that closed with Velcro. More than once, missing items from around the house had mysteriously turned up in those pockets... keys, the remote, pens, a wallet, and so much else.
So, our Remi elegantly stood up on her four little paws, leaped behind the armchair, and checked the pocket. Out of it tumbled a ball of pink mohair yarn, and before she even realized what was happening, the famous author found herself playing with the ball, completely mesmerized by it.
"Oh no! Look what I did, I unraveled half of it! Let me roll it back up."
But the yarn refused to be tamed at all, and her little claws kept snagging on the angora thread... those claws only knew how to unravel, not how to wind it back up. And the more her writer’s reason pleaded, "calm down, come on, you can do this!", the more her feline instinct took over. The ball of yarn, after trying to bind her and hold her captive, finally surrendered—or rather, scattered everywhere, looking just like a pink fishing net...
"Serves you right for trying to tie me up!" Bise scolded it, strutting off proudly to check the second pocket. In this one, there really was a book.
"Aha! What do we have here? Looks like I'm about to discover your poetic side... you crazy thing!"
Getting the book up on the sofa, opening it, and flipping through the pages was child's play compared to the nightmare of her own phone’s glass screen.
"Let me read then... I don't even care that the boys are ignoring me anymore... I'm ignoring them too, and their master, along with all his sheep!"
She began to read:
" imagine how God looks at us
reproachfully and tenderly
and cannot understand how
after so many floods
we
have never absorbed
the philosophy
the wisdom
of enough "
"Brr!" the white cat shuddered. "That one is deep!" Let's see what else our man writes under a pen name... And what a pen name he chose! Indigo Soul.
"if you read me
read me alone
no edge no pathos a whisper
like a mystery
don't search for hidden meanings
how"
"Not bad... I actually am going to read you... all by myself, since your tomcats won't talk to me because, heaven forbid, I laughed at your style, or rather, at your sheep pajamas. But I... I just couldn't help myself, you know. I didn't mean any harm. True, that remark... but your furries act like they're some kind of Knights of the Round Table and you're Arthur... I'll read one more, then I'm off to deal with the backpack."
"poet or not
on the blank page
independent of
the facile
the cliché
the dated
my muse furnishes
fantasy
with an old porch
and
an infinity pool
a rusty sky
a philosopher cat
feline
and a pendulum in the background
which
is background noise
not the guardian of time
don't you come in boots
don't bring a tape measure
nor a spirit level
nor demand
a request in triplicate
in a cardboard folder "
"Alright, God of the poem. I promise I will never laugh at you again!"
Remi-Bise barely had time to finish her thought when the bronze ring on the front door and the doorbell started an agitated, incredibly annoying duet. It was, of course, Arcibald Peter Stone, alias Arbalest—worked up, sweating, and absolutely furious.
Anemo, his hair now a bit less messy, wearing a simple yellow t-shirt and loose brown linen trousers, calmly opened the door for him.
"What's burning? Where?"
But Arbalest barged right in, making himself at home:
"Where is that woman? You said you found her! Where is she then?"
"Arci, are you okay? Did something happen to your wife? Did she leave you... maybe?"
"I'm talking about Remi, you idiot!"
The two of them went into the kitchen, and Arcibald slammed the door hard behind him.
"Alright, I can't wait any longer!" Remi thought. "It's now or never!" And leaving Indigo Soul's poems behind on the sofa, she headed toward the coat rack with determination.
"Let me show you how to hijack a backpack!"
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