...and he tries to tame you
says that he could never forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth aches with the memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way that you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn't you?
tried to be softer
less volatile
less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love
For Women Who Are Difficult To Love (modified): Warsan Shire
After the reprehensible act Asriel had watched Marisa give on the stand, the scholar's vocabulary had been reduced to curt yeses and solemn noes much to the distaste of Mr. Keating. The prosecutor had tried to change tact whilst he engaged with Asriel, who was now the one seated in the witness box, making his questions as open as possible but still mindful of them not being too vague lest Asriel's counsel objected. But Asriel did not budge. Every question was met with a one word answer, the facts of the affair affirmed and Marisa's lies denied. If Asriel was unable to package a reasonable answer into a word, he would fall back onto his right to remain silent. The differences in the way Asriel handled the questioning in comparison Marisa could not have been more acute. Where she had rambled on in a passionate fashion, Asriel remained as silent as the night. They were truly opposites that attracted. The only thing the new position afforded him was the opportunity to glare daggers at Marisa for the better half of an hour with only one thing on his mind.
How dare she disown their daughter?
Glass reflected a face that was drawn, ravaged by the efforts of the trial to produce dark, hollowed pits under the eyes that had been dug during the event of sleepless nights. Concealer failed to hide how much resemblance the reflection's countenance shared with Yanis, Mrs Fantoche's raccoon daemon. Blush had been layered onto the cheeks to give the impression of life on the dull face; red lipstick used to paint the cracked, pale lips that had been dried out by excessive dehydration. Dead curls hung from the scalp to frame the features of the ghost in the mirror, only making the figure appear more ghoulish as the dark hair strongly contrasted the sickly white face.
Marisa could hardly recognise herself.
Her appearance had transcended life itself and left an image that better suited a corpse in a morgue than a living, breathing woman. She knew her perception of her looks were dysmorphic, grossly exaggerated in her mind as the stress of life spiraling out control forced her to grasp onto anything she could control and, as a result, she'd found herself in the toilet obsessing over her face in the mirror. Her focus fell to Ozymandias' reflection in the mirror. He was resting on the sink counter, anxiously grooming his fur, picking at imaginary pieces of lint and dirt. It was a pathetic display and seeing her anxieties played out in front of her ignited an anger inside Marisa. He sensed it and consequently, her daemon got angry too, now furiously yanking out clumps of golden fur from his arm causing Marisa's skin to sting. She grasped her arm at the region where a ferocious red bruise was starting to form, her mouth opening into a silent cry. But her distress only caused the golden monkey to ravage his fur further and soon her silent cries were exchanged for a guttural growl that erupted from the depths of her darkening heart as the pain subsided and the self-hate emerged. She'd had enough. She snatched his offending arm and twisted it behind his back causing them both to let out a low hiss. It seemed to hurt him more than it hurt her. Maybe he wasn't used to direct pain, any pain he had ever felt was always second-hand from Marisa either being hurt by another or inflicting pain on herself. Maybe she'd feel better if she just- The golden monkey was whimpering now. The sound, sickening. She flung his arm away and he scampered to the sink corner, tending to his sore arm. Unconsciously, during the hardship of the past few weeks, they'd forged a deeper connection. Still atypically non-verbal and rather physical but it worked.
Whatever it was, it worked for them.
She looked back at the mirror and saw the ghost was gone. It was her usual self reflected back. Coiffed hair, smooth skin, graceful features and just enough makeup to compensate for the lack of sleep. She practiced smiling. It was strained but beautiful nonetheless. Marisa finally felt collected enough to leave; she'd already wasted enough of the recess trying to recover.
Oh, that's right.
The reason she was in the toilet in the first place. Emotions she'd compartmentalised in the meantime came flooding back to her. It was the anguish she'd felt as Asriel's eyes bore into hers that had driven her into the bathroom once Bishop Augustus had declared recess. It was the torturing reality that the man she loved now despised her with all his being that had freed the tears that stained her face, spoiling her makeup and necessitating a new made up face.
It was Asriel who'd broken her.
"You done crying?"
And here he was. In the ladies, no less. She looked at him through the mirror, too exhausted to even face him.
"You shouldn't be here," she sighed. His blue eyes were livid and his heaving chest made it painfully obvious how hard he was struggling to control his anger. She'd never seen him like this, of all the emotions in the world he seemed to always have anger in check. Well, until today.
"Why, Marisa, it's all out in the open now," he sneered sarcastically. "There's no need for us to hide anymore."
"Still, it's the ladies and I don't feel like entertaining this right now." Marisa busied herself with applying a new layer of lipstick to her already coated lips. Her nonchalance aggravated him and by the way he forcefully crossed his arms it looked like he'd much rather use his hands to strangle her on the spot.
"Marisa, look at me."
Her eyes flicked to his via the mirror. "I am."
"Turn around."
"I'm not going to do that." She handed Ozymandias her lipstick, which he reached for tentatively - still scared she might lash out again, and watched as he tucked it away in her purse. "You need to leave," she affirmed.
A deep growl escaped Stelmaria as Asriel grabbed Marisa's shoulders, forcing her to turn around. She kept her gaze focused on Ozymandias, his tense breathing matching hers.
"Look at me, Marisa."
Reluctantly, she did. Their faces now inches apart.
"Take it back." His words came out stiff, forced through gritted teeth. "Go to Bishop Augustus and tell him that you've changed your mind. Take her back."
Call it pride, vanity, egotism or self-importance. Label it 'Marisa being stupid', stubborn or unwilling to give into her desire to keep her child. Say anything but Marisa will never again yield to a man and, above all else, Marisa would never again yield to Asriel.
"I'm not going to do that."
"Marisa, I don't think you understand that I'm not asking."
"And you fail to understand that I'm Not. Going. To. Do. That."
Her hot puffs of breath landed against his chin. She wished she'd worn heels today; she hated how he slightly towered over her as if he was the dominant one in this situation. No, it was her choice, she was the one who had ultimate control. Today, she finally had the upper hand. One of his hands slowly snaked up the minimal space between them to grasp her chin, pulling her head closer to his so that now she was on her tiptoes.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" His hand tilted her head from one side to the other, inspecting her as if this was the first time he'd truly seen her. "Or have you always been this crazy?"
A sinister laugh slipped out of Marisa which visibly repulsed the man in front of her; he'd finally seen her true colours.
"When I was child my mother used to make me recite my loyalty to The Authority before I went to bed; she said it would guide me,"Asriel's brows furrowed at her words, confused as to why she was bringing this up now, but Marisa carried on nonetheless, "and I continued to recite that every night until that cursed evening at the theatre. You made me question my loyalty, my morals and look where that got me." She used both her hands to tug at his grip of her chin, the rough movement freeing her but bruising the skin. The swift speed and force of her movement stunned Asriel and he stood there, shocked, as Marisa rubbed at her chin.
"You didn't believe me then but I meant it when I said I don't like to associate with sin. For months I fooled myself, believing that the feelings I felt for you, those emotions that felt so good and right couldn't possibly be sinful. How could love, an emotion The Authority himself professes for all his creations, be a sin? But this here…"
Marisa ceased rubbing her chin, instead using her fingers to pull at Asriel's tie, bringing him towards her as her lips crashed into his. He fell into the kiss. His arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her up as he backed her into the sink. On their own volition, her legs wrapped around his waist and she moaned as he deepened the kiss, feeling his hands grasp at her ass through her trousers. It felt like they could continue this passionate display of emotions without end but they eventually were forced to part as they heard Stelmaria hiss at a woman who'd attempted entering the toilet. The tips of their noses rested on each other as the air released in their exhales mingled in the space between them. Asriel's eyes were glazed with sexual desire and that look was exactly Marisa's point. She rested her fingers on his soft lips so he couldn't move to kiss her and took a second to appreciate the feel of his beard under her palm. She loved this man.
"This here isn't love, Asriel."
He didn't register what she had just said. Instead, his focus momentarily slipped from Marisa's face to her neck where there was a gold necklace that just about shone through the thick black cotton of her turtleneck.
He smirked. She still wore it.
Marisa noted as Asriel glared unabashedly at her chest. Even at a time like this he couldn't help himself, his perverse action providing her voice with enough conviction to make her following statement sound like she actually believed it.
"This is lust."
She released her legs and used them to forcefully push him away so that he almost stumbled into Stelmaria. Marisa then turned to the mirror to check if her lipstick was smudged but it was fine. Her voice took on a harsher tone as she resumed looking at Asriel through the mirror from her perched position on the sink counter.
"Lust is a sin which means that girl was born from sin and I will not associate with it."
"Marisa -" Asriel tried as he approached her but he was met with a vicious slap across his face that was coupled with a primitive scream, not from the golden monkey but from Marisa herself.
"I said no!" She was feral. "She'll be of no use to me and I'll be of no good to her. I have barely any money, no assets of my own. I'm not even sure if Edward's provisions for me in his will will even hold anymore and you want me to invite a child into my life to leech off the remaining resources I have. No. I've had one Belacqua too many in my life already. I don't need another to mess it up even further."
Both Marisa and Ozymandias jumped off the counter with graceful landings and she smoothed the material of her trousers.
"You're going to regret this, Marisa."
He spoke with such finality but how could he possibly know? He didn't know her. He'd never understand her. She reached for her purse on the counter and gave one last glance at her reflection. It was as good as it will ever be.
Asriel continued. "One day you'll long for Lyra and she will reject you as vehemently as you are rejecting her now."
She let out a dry laugh as she headed towards the door. "Is that supposed to be a threat or something?"
"It's an assurance because as much as you hate to admit it, you're as human as the rest of us, Marisa. And you'll come to regret this just like anyone else would."
She twisted her head to give him one last look. "Please, have you met me? Anyways, if you care so much why don't you steal her away? She is Lyra after all," she sneered, "your song of truth, she'll lead you straight to her."
"This was never a trial of whether the accused were guilty or not. No, we'd all entered this knowing the facts of the matter and as the defendants very early on plead guilty to the charges against them, we could all provide greater focus to the key element of ecclesiastical court law. This was a dream my dear friend, the late Edward Coulter, had strived greatly for. Though I am sad to practice it firsthand in the event of his death, I am proud to have stayed true to his wishes. The 'Article to Restore Religious Justice' aimed to shift the court's aim from trying crime to trying sin and with the holy word as it's backbone, administer punishment justly."
Marisa watched as Bishop Augustus took great pleasure in this moment, this was his moment to shine and he milked as much clout out of it as possible.
"May the accused please rise."
Both Marisa and Asriel's counsels stood up.
"In the case of the City of London versus Lord Asriel Belacqua, in count one the jury reads as follows: We, the jury, find the defendant Lord Asriel Belacqua guilty of voluntary manslaughter in violation of Exodus 20:13 and place the charge dated today. But in light of Timothy 5:8, the jury raises a full defence in acknowledgement of the lord's desire to protect his kin, Ms. Lyra Belacqua. Hence, the charge for count one is negated and the defendant acquitted of all charges under count one." Bishop Augustus paused as there was a rise in murmurs coming from the public gallery and press corner. Marisa herself had to admit she was surprised too as though she'd guessed Asriel would find a more lenient charge due to the motivations behind the murder, she had not expect him to be free of it altogether. She stole a cursory glance at him to see he was unmoved by the news, his face as stoic as ever. Once the room had fell back into silence the bishop continued.
"In regards to count two the jury reads as follows: We, the jury, find the defendant, Lord Asriel Belacqua, guilty of fornication with a married woman in violation of Hebrews 13:4 and place the charge dated today." Shocker! "In regards to count three the jury reads as follows: We, the jury, find the defendant, Lord Asriel Belacqua, guilty of an attempt to move Ms. Lyra Belacqua from Anglia to Caledonia on the pretence of her death to evade justice and place the charge dated today. The sentence goes as follows: Lord Asriel Belacqua will be stripped of all land, property and wealth save for an estate in Ely and a house in London. All proceedings will go to the Magisterium. Upon the request of Jordan College, the defendant will maintain their scholastic title granted by the named college provided the defendant continues to provide sufficient input to the named institution. Upon royal decree, the defendant will also maintain their lordship."
The court was in uproar. Asriel had definitely gotten off light, Marisa thought, she wouldn't be surprised to learn that some scholars had fought in his corner behind closed doors. Or maybe, most likely, the bishop himself had benefited from a lighter charge. She also wouldn't be surprised to hear in a few months that some of Asriel's former properties had been sold off to Augustus at a significantly reduced price.
Silence, eventually, resumed.
"In the case of the City of London versus Mrs. Marisa Delamere-Coulter, in count one the jury reads as follows: We, the jury, find the defendant Mrs. Marisa Delamere-Coulter guilty of adultery in violation of Hebrews 13:4 and place the charge dated today. In regards to count two the jury reads as follows: We, the jury, find the defendant, Mrs. Marisa Delamere-Coulter, guilty of an attempt to move Ms. Lyra Belacqua from Anglia to Caledonia on the pretence of her death to evade justice and place the charge dated today. But in light of the defendant's accounts of suffering coercion and manipulation in addition to the defendant's full repentance for her sins subject to her own conditions being met, the jury raises a partial defence."
Marisa stilled. Her gamble had paid off, the jury had favoured her. She sighed in relief.
"Hence, the jury issues a reduced sentence which includes the removal of the accused's scholastic title granted by St. Sophia's College and instead maintenance as an honorary member. Enlistment of the accused into the Magisterium's academic sector as to fulfil the defendant's promise of devotion to The Authority. Upon the request of the Royal Arctic Institute, the defendant will remain a member of the institute provided the defendant continues to provide sufficient input to the named institution. Lastly, the accused will be excluded from any provisions made for them in the late Mr. Edward Coulter's will."
Her sentencing was definitely more thorough than Asriel's and virtually left her with nothing but, at least, it was miles more preferable to stoning.
"In regards to item one the jury reads as follows: We, the jury, deny the defendant, Lord Asriel Belacqua, custody of Ms. Lyra Belacqua as we find the accused to not be repentant of his violent and sinful acts and hence find him a risk to Ms. Lyra Belacqua. We call for a restraining order of 50 miles between Lord Asriel Belacqua and any location Ms. Lyra Belacqua may find herself. Regarding the complications posed to the safety and welfare of Ms. Lyra Belacqua as a result of this charge and sentence in addition to Mrs. Marisa Delamere-Coulter's dismal of the her kin: We, the jury, place Ms. Lyra Belacqua in the care of the nuns at Godstow priory, Oxford as of effect from today."
In the corner of Marisa's periphery view, she saw Asriel's head drop at the declaration. He'd lost her. Marisa had greatly misjudged how much the girl had meant to him and as Bishop Augustus concluded the hearing, Asriel's head slowly lifted and turned to face her. Their eyes locked and in that still stretch of time which seemed as endless as the body of water that made up the sea, Marisa felt like she was being drowned in a pool of black tar. Choking helplessly on feelings of sin, guilt and regret. The toxic liquid burning flames of hatred through her veins as she met Asriel's loathing glare, her eyes stinging without a single tear to shed. She felt like she wasn't alone, like she was an amalgamation of women who at this very moment, when time seemingly stopped, had come to the realisation that the gift of free will had been man's greatest curse. She already knew, as much as she hated to admit it, that her actions, which could no longer be overturned, would come to haunt her in future sleepless nights. No matter how hard she tried to atone for her sins through correcting the wrongs in this world, this guilt would continue to plague her soulless heart. That this feeling would never feel foreign again as when the names 'Asriel' or 'Lyra' were ever uttered, her heart would wrench again.
Time would stop again.
Regret at losing what could have been would drown her in sorrow, again.
It would be the unknown sensation of Adhuc Maris, again.