#threadmc

“If it had dulled, I rather doubt you’d be quite as interested.” Despite her previous harsh words, Marisa did lean, just slightly, into the touch. The golden monkey’s tail flicks, the barest sign of interest as he continues to circle Stelmaria. It would be so easy to just give in and allow herself to be lost in the comfort of him. But as per usual, they both have their own agendas to accomplish. Shifting, Marisa raises an eyebrow. “But we don’t really have time for a full exploration of how sharp my tongue can be, do we?” After all, he has his war and she needs to find their daughter. That drive is preventing her from completely giving in. He had to know where Lyra was and she was determined to get that information from him. 

Marisa has to take a moment and let out a low deep breath through her nose. There was always something about how Lyra spoke to her that just got under her skin. Was it her similarity to her or to Asriel? Marisa wasn't really going to waste the time to decipher the difference. "And yet you constantly do so," Mrs. Coulter reminded her daughter. "You and I are not strangers so I don't really see how that rule you never follow even applies." She tilted her head, looking behind Lyra and to something else. "But if you want to continue to be followed, then by all means you can keep doing so."

She extended a hand to the woman. “Is it just you or will your daemon be joining us?” Unable to hide his curiosity, the golden monkey peered around his human. Witches were always fascinating to her. Their relationship with their daemon was something powerful. To have hers go and bring her back information would be so useful. “Noxadivel, isn’t it?” Marisa had done her best to do her research. True, the clans were tight mouthed, but she knew how to get people to talk. 

So now it was Marisol’s turn. Her sister clearly hadn’t had the wherewithal to realize she owed Marisa for everything this summer, but that was no matter. Marisa was perfectly capable of collecting her own debts. The school uniform that she was wearing did look good on her. She’d perfected the look after her first year, having finally filled it out by the end. Another smile and then she quickly tousled her own hair, as to make it look frazzled. Then she burst out of the bathroom, her monkey dashing behind her, and ran into Marisol’s room. “Wake up!” she screeched, getting to her sister’s bed and shaking her roughly. “What are you doing asleep? We’re going to be late! Marcel left early because I said I’d wait for you, come on!” 

The sounds of the restaurant echo in Marisa’s ear. A tinkle of glasses, the low hum of other conversation, and the footsteps of servers are familiar. Reassuringly so. She always hated waiting for people, but at least this meant she wouldn’t have to be fully alone. A bottle of red wine was already placed on the table and she leaned backed, her full glass resting in her hand. Then she spotted her. A grin spreads across her lips. There she was. Clearly there was something that she needed to know badly if she was coming to her. She waited until the woman was brought up to her table, not even bothering to stand. “I’m so happy that you could make it, Ms. Grant. Would you care to join me?” 

It was then that she heard shuffling at the door at the far end of the room. Mrs. Coulter straightened, trying to shift into being as presentable as she could. Perhaps whoever this was would be able to shed some light on what was happening here. 

She frowns, looking at him. "Funny, I've always found the opposite to be the true. True love means that you'd be willing to walk away if it was best for them." Marisa glances over to her husband, trying to give off the impression that she was talking about him. Of course, she wasn't, but as charming as Lord Asriel was, Marisa had to keep up appearances. "But then again, someone with your reputation for dalliances might have a different experience than I would, my lord." She chuckles lightly, covering up her dig at him with her laughter. So far Marisa was enjoying his company more than most of the other gusts at this party, but she did still have to play the game they all did.

For all the knowledge of the word she possesses, scientific or otherwise, Marisa has never truly been able to explain away the connection that she's felt to Asriel. Now that she's older, she can control it, but the same boiling urge to either pull him apart piece by piece or be completely enraptured by him still lurks beneath the surface. There truly is no one his equal, no one besides herself that is. As he pulls away to breathe, Marisa doesn't bother to stop herself from nipping at his lip. Then she raises an eyebrow. "Now I know we're getting older, but I rather thought all that running around in the mountains would keep you in shape."