Draconic - Interlude: Carrie

It was roughly mid-day, perhaps a bit earlier. Carrie sat in the middle of her worn, somewhat sagged brown-leather sofa, even as the rain poured down outside like a never-ending flood. It was Saturday today, and considering that the weather was not exactly conductive for much in the way of activities, she was spending the day at home. Opposite to her own position, a somewhat outdated television set cut through the gloom of the room with the light and noise that made up some sort of bad romance movie –the name of which she could not seem to recall– but she did not really see it, occupied in thought as she was.

The solitary light that would usually illuminate her living room, the walls of which were covered with a green-striped wall, had broken somewhere along the course of last night’s lack of events, and as of yet she had not bothered to replace it. Combine this with a near-complete lack of windows, save for a single small one situated to her left which was currently blocked by a pair of deep-green curtains, and the whole room was rather lacking in the way of illumination.

The dark-grey, fluffy carpet that covered the room's floor did little to alleviate the situation, even if it did feel very nice to walk barefoot on. The marble drawer to the right of the window, one she had inherited from her grandmother, was somewhat brighter however. The white material –mixed with a few splotches of light grey– served to help brighten the general atmosphere, mixing quite well with the stack of four books in various colours that rested on it. These books did not belong in that spot, however, but rather in the sizeable bookshelves against the wall in the other end of the room, which were a pair of modern metallic constructions, painted deep black. However, their shelves were not exactly loaded with books. Whilst it was true that the occasional written work decorated its shelves, nowadays it had been demoted into a storage for whatever random junk needed a place to be put, and as such the space on its shelves were littered by everything from tape and pencils to rusted screws, a broken flashlight and all sorts of other junk. A floor lamp, too, could be seen neatly placed next to the bookshelves, its electrical wire long lost, leaving the lamp itself useless. However, the house’s sole inhabitant had never actually gotten around to replacing it, and eventually it had just been left where it was, as though it were little more than a sculpture, left to endure the passage of time.

Neither the room nor its furnishings held Carrie’s attention right there and then, however. The air was deathly still save for the constant smattering of the rain outside, and the girl’s own, regular breaths. She was thinking about an event. Not just any event, but one in particular, where a friend that she had thought gone had reappeared in a shape that she never would have expected.

She still had trouble believing that the whole thing had actually taken place. The e-mail, ostensibly Marcie’s, was conspicuous enough, almost to the point where Carrie herself would have just disregarded it, but off she went, right into one of the strangest experiences she could recall experiencing. In a clearing filled with memories, she had come across a shining creature, eye-catching with its gleaming, amber-like scales, its shape seeming close to nothing so much as a dragon. As it turned out, said dragon apparently knew how to write, and told her that it was Marcie. Several questions ensued, naturally, but all she got out of that was pain and suffering, and she did not see the creature –which her mind still had considerable difficulty equating with her life-long friend– since.

The whole thing still felt quite surreal. She could have just dreamt the whole thing, or gone insane and imagined it, for all she knew. Except, of course, she needed only to turn her head to the right and behold the bandage wrapped around the upper half of her arm, or simply listen to the signals of her body in order to sense the still-extant, if by now much weaker pain, to know that everything was very much real. That was, of course, assuming that she was not imagining the wound as well, in which case she could probably consider her own mind beyond the cliff of insanity by this point. Still, there was no point for her to consider the possibility. Her own senses, if anything, were something that she innately felt she could trust, and if they agreed on something, she would believe them.

There was, of course, still the possibility that the dragon had been remote-controlled, and that everything had been one large, elaborate prank, but quite frankly that was something that Carrie saw as a very far-fetched theory. No, she had to assume that the option that seemed the truest was the correct one.

She was scared, naturally. Who wouldn’t be? The slowly healing injury on her arm spoke volumes in that regard. Getting involved any further would include risks, and seeing as last time she had gotten injured within a matter of minutes, Carrie could not be entirely certain that it would be a venture she would emerge intact out of. Even if she knew Marcie, trusted her like the sisters they were in all but blood would, that scaled –and admittedly rather beautiful– creature that she had come across in the forest was not entirely Marcie. Not anymore.  It –she– may have been, once, but it was nearly painfully apparent that the one she had met had been... changed by the experiences that she had undergone, whatever those might have been. Marcie was not what she once were... but did that really mean that Carrie herself could simply give up on her, just like that?

To be truthful, anybody could give up on anyone at any moment, so when she thought about it, churned her questions around in her mind, it became increasingly apparent for her that the real question that she needed to answer was not if she could give up on her, but if she would.

The questions bubbled in her mind like a forgotten stew on the stove, the television show ending only for the next one to take its place. Her stomach growled, and as one would suspect, Carrie took that as a pointer that she should probably get something to eat and cut a break in her seemingly unsolvable dilemma.

Finding a solution was starting to seem a very daunting venture, she decided, even as her cooking session began. She couldn’t do this alone. She was only one woman, and she had a feeling that it would not be enough to deal with the not-quite-Marcie which she encountered, yet her own morals complained loudly against the idea of simply abandoning the whole venture altogether.

Abruptly, as though a lightning bolt of inspiration had just struck, the solution comes to her. All of a sudden, it is just so obvious. She would not be able to do this by herself, and she sure did not harbour any plans to just give up on it all, so then what was left, save to get help? She had certainly never heard of this kind of event taking place before, and it felt too significant to simply be left in her rather unaccomplished hands. Quite simply, there was no other way; she had to bring in a more professional force into this. Her own capabilities would not suffice.

For a moment, Carrie finds herself uncertain of this new course. Doubt flows through her, whether this really is a wise idea, whether it may be better to simply keep it to herself just to avoid the risk of everything turning into an even larger mess. These concerns do not disappear, not entirely, but with a notable display of willpower, Carrie finds it in her to push them aside. Marcie had been in isolation for too long, separated for too long, and Carrie alone, she felt, would simply not be sufficient. There was all reason to suspect that Marcie would not exactly enjoy having more people show up, but this is what would be best for her, whether she understood it or not.

So went Carrie’s train of thought, even as she fished her phone out of her pocket, dialling a number with agile fingers. Waiting for a few moments, she spoke, completely oblivious to the fact that her steak burned behind her, and that with one simple call, she may have just sent her friendship down a similar path.