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Info
Title: Responsibilities, and the ones who dealt with him.
Author: PallidAlbumen
The following work is part of a collection of stories, being Katherine Wolff's Journal, It is recommended you read these to get a better grasp on the setting, though it is not strictly required.
by PallidAlbumen
When I recall my meeting with the woman with the elephant tea, I am filled with nothing but wonder, excitement, and fear.
The room was cold, chilling even beneath my fur coat, but she had been wearing attire that one would suspect a woman of her stature to wear during the autumn months of the small costal mountain town1. Despite this, even stranger yet, the black elephant of which walked on her table astounded me more than any sense of her attire.
When I speak of the elephant, I ask that you cast aside any of the precognitions you'd have when thinking of one, for this one was of a considerably smaller size than one would believe, no bigger than a common mouse, and lacking the grey and brown colors of its usual gatherings. Needless to say, his tusks were removed, swinging softly from the soft breeze coming from the window. They were beautiful, of course, though I wondered if Finley felt curious seeing his tusks with adorned with bits and gold and ruby that weren’t there previously.
"I hear you've come for the settlement."
"Word gets around quickly in a small town, I figured you of all people would know."
"Ah, I suppose so."
"…"
"…"
I looked down, unsure of what to do with my eyes. The room was adorned with multiple weapons, of varying sabers, rifles, and heads of animals and curiosities that I could not identify, given my inexperience at the time. Though, from the look of them, they looked to be in pain. That, coupled with the (admittedly) revealing and environmentally inappropriate clothes, where one could see more than they should when caught at the right angle, led me to stare at the small elephant on the table, and twiddle my fingers like a child.
"Finley."
"H-Huh?"
"His name, my pet, is Finley."
The small mammal jumped at his name, doing a twirl on one of his feet, similar to a type of acrobat monkeys that you would hear about in London every few years.
"Do they usually come this small?"
"Like this? No. Usually they shrink over their lifespan, but even then, Finley is something of an anomaly in that regard. Your guardian gave him to me, before he left."
"My guardian?"
"Aye, London."
"London, right…"
The conversation fell into silence, the only noise filling the air being the soft chirping of birds, and the occasional spurt of Finley's snot into the woman's cup. She stated that it added a certain flavor to it, that Europeans couldn't hope to replicate, but I chose to forgo it.2 Eventually, she sighed, pulled her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose. I could see the ends of her eyes beginning to water, but I had said nothing in comfort.
"It's been long since I saw him, but I've never forgotten his face. It's a terrible task he's given you, I swear, in a letter of all things. So much to put on a girl so young."
"It's not so bad… I wish I could have known, before he went missing in the BlueWoods, but still."
In truth, the research topics that he had passed on to me were anything but common place. At times, when the seat of the plane had been chafing me too long, and the heat had sent strands of sweat sliding down my face, I almost give in on searching for the borderline forbidden creatures he tasked me with searching for. Of which the task had led me here, alone with someone I did not recognize. I checked my watch, noting the time. Desperate to change the topic, I asked:
"They say there's talk of tattletales down in Georgia now, did you hear?"
"Of course, they are everywhere in the South. It still beats the North, of course, at least in the South most of them are harmless, unless you're in deep."
"Well, yes, but that's nothing lead and money couldn't fix. Oh, and speaking of the curiosities, where did you actually get Finley? I can't imagine it was easy."
"Why do you ask? You'd had best be careful with that tongue. Someone is liable to find you suspicious even for the thought of asking."
"I was just curious," I said, frustration building in my mind at the sound of how suddenly shaky my voice was, "He reminds me of a dream I had once, about some gnomes. "
"Gnomes? You know those don't exist, dear Katherine. Please keep your head about you."
"Ah, well…"
"And— it wasn't too terribly hard. I was left with a large sum after my father past, of which I'm sure you know I've capitalized on the ore industry here. An iron rich mountain, they called it. All in all, the most challenging part of it was trying to find a pen to write the check. Imported down from the people in Asia, he was quite a pricey one, but I suppose that doesn't matter now. After all, he is yours."
That was right. London had sent me here as part of his extraneous checklists to recover the elephant but had told me nothing helpful of the details. I only found my way here from haggling with various homeless, restaurant workers, and three-and-a-half-bees. All of them had told me of the mansion on the hilltop, made of cobble and dark woods, which even then I had to reach through several alleyways and rooftops. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled an envelope from my coat.
"Please, keep your money, I have more than I could ever use it for."
"Why don't you put some back into the town, then?"
"Oh- I don't have that much."
"Even still, I-"
"Please, Miss Wolff, respect my wishes." She said curly, cupping Finley into her hands and sliding him into a jar filled with many air holes. Despite leaving his home, he kept dancing inside of the jar, seemingly not understanding what was happening. She handed the glass to me and nodded.
"I'll be seeing you then and thank you. I'll take good care of him, I promise."
"I have no doubt you will, girl. London spoke about you- well, not you specifically, but the idea of you, someone to take under his wing."
"He did?"
"Yes, he was a fantastical man, though without perfection. I see a lot of him in you."
"Even the flaws?"
She said nothing, but the sly smile coaxing her face portrayed her feelings on the question.
About to take my leave, I stopped at her abrupt speaking: "—Did he ever speak of me?" her voice was sharp, but desperate. I silently thanked the sun for its waning shadows, unable to see her face.
"I… can't say he did, ma'am."
Upon reflection, I cannot seem to remember much of what happened after the meeting with Madam Golns, which the townsfolk called her, as I was already onto my next assignment that was on the given checklist3, and my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of building a small enclosure for Finley. Eventually, though, when I had tried to pay with cash from the aforementioned envelope, I found it was filled with photographs of London and a woman who looked like Golns, though much younger. The most striking of which, was him kissing her check, a drink in hand, and Finley in the other.