I am not making any money with this. I do not own Lara Croft, Tomb Raider
etc.
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 1
"Angkor Wat, Cambodia. Land of Hinduism and Buddhism, and undiscovered treasure - and most of all, the Iris, a prize I had claimed at the age of sixteen. Now I was to collect it - but the problem was hidden in getting to Cambodia. The country was under an almost literal civil war, and no-one, except for the occasional diplomat, could enter the shallow waters of The Mekong River.
And our only way in seemed to be Jean's retired father, a former diplomat and archaeologist, whose relations to the ancient culture ministry of Cambodia were worth their weight in gold. I knew he was the only person who could get us in - yet I was still very surprised when Jean called me. He asked me to fly to Paris to attend his father's birthday party. The ancient culture minister of Cambodia was going to be there, and Jean thought we ought to show up as we were both trying to book a plane to the country. I know PR is important, but it has never made my reluctance to wear heels any lesser."
The violins were singing their first notes, waiters dressed in penguin black-and-white were carrying full trays of champagne, and everyone was having a good time.
Except for Jean-Yves DuCarmine. He glanced his watch again, grabbed a small biscuit from a waiter's tray nearby and ate his treat quickly. From his position on top of the guest-crowded stairs, he could see the whole hall. He took a long look around - making sure he hadn't missed anything.
Another waiter passed him with a full tray of oysters in garlic butter. Jean stopped him before he could push past him on the crowded stairs, and asked; "Who is the latest guest to arrive?"
"I do not know, Sir," the waiter replied with a French accent, shot an apologetic glance at Jean, and walked off. Jean walked down a couple of steps, and joined a small group of people downstairs. An elderly woman in a dark yellow evening gown offered her cheek for Jean to kiss.
"Mon amie, Jean! I was just telling Monsieur Ranariddh here what a charming son we have."
"Please, mother," Jean complained slightly.
An older man joined the group.
"There you are, Jean. You mother has been worried that you wouldn't want to socialize with us at all. How nice of you to join us. Mr. Ranariddh, this is my son Jean-Yves. Jean-Yves, you do know Mr. Ranariddh, don't you? He has kindly promised to make some arrangements for that expedition of yours."
"It is not an expedition, father. Merely a tourist trip, to say. I've always been very interested in Angkor Wat and the Hindu culture in Cambodia," Jean explained, aware that he was lying slightly, and hoping he had gotten the Hindu part correct. "Now, if you please, I'll have to ask to be excused for a moment," Jean apologized, leaving his parents as he started another tour of the hall. He was slightly annoyed by the orchestra. The violins were playing too loud, and he couldn't even recognize the melody. Taking another look at his watch, Jean straightened his bow-tie and took another look at the door.
And finally his wait was rewarded.
A woman wearing a long, figure-hugging dark blue velvet dress had just entered the hall, fashionably late. She stopped at the doorway, taking a good look at the well-over four hundred people dancing, drinking and chatting, most of them in French. The woman tugged at the purse she hung on her right wrist, a matching blue velvet pouch with gold embroidery. Under her long hem a pair of elegant stiletto heels were visible; she was obviously one of the few people given the talent from birth to walk on stilettos.
Jean pushed past probably a hundred people, half-ran to the door, and then pulled the woman behind some plants near the main entrance.
"What the bloody hell are you doing, Jean?!" Lara Croft cursed silently, as Jean pulled her to a kneeling position behind the bush. He smiled, straightening his bow-tie once again.
"I just wanted to get a good look at you before anyone else. You look lovely," Jean answered, knowing 'lovely' was, in his humble opinion, a rather mild expression to describe how Lara Croft looked in evening dress.
"Thank you. Though a good pair of shorts can beat this thing anytime," Lara said, tugging at her dress. Jean got up and puller her up with him.
"Ready to hit the dance floor?" he half-joked.
"As you yourself told me on the phone, I'm not here to socialize. If this is as essential regarding our trip as you claimed, then I'm glad you called. But I warn you, Frenchman," Lara said, grinning mildly, "if I'm here for the sole purpose of being your date, then my vengeance will be wrathful." Lara smirked, adjusting the shape of her purse.
"What's in there?" Jean asked, curious.
"Why don't you take a look," Lara said absently, gazing around the hall over the plant they were still standing behind. Jean grabbed her purse, pulling open the top. He pulled out something that was shiny and metallic. A gun, which he held like it was poisonous.
"Now tell me Lara, mon amour," he asked in an overly bitter tone, "What do you need this for?"
Lara's attention was returned to Jean.
"You'll never know what a weak little girl like me stumbles upon on these dangerous social calls." Jean put the gun back and gladly gave the purse back to Lara, wondering what sort of mess he had again gotten himself into. He also knew she was only joking.
"Let us go and meet my parents. Mr. Ranariddh should still be with them. May I?" Jean asked, offering his arm to Lara. Stumbling a bit with her left shoe, she accepted his offer.
"Not your shoes, huh?" Jean joked, as they started walking towards the stairs.
"These shoes were made for me, all so true. But I wasn't made for these shoes," Lara replied, following Jean, who was still keen on supporting her arm like a true gentleman should. Lara had never learned to really enjoy these social gatherings; he only accepted an invitations when it helped her achieve something. And this party was probably going to save her from a lot of trouble.
Jean lead Lara to the stairs where his parents still were.
"Mother, father, Mr. Ranariddh," Jean nodded politely, "I'd like you to meet my colleague, soon-to-be graduated archaeologist Lara Croft."
Lara offered her hand shyly for Jean's father to kiss. "Pleased to meet you, Sir," she said, nodding to Jean's mother.
"And it is a pleasure for me, Lady Croft. I have heard good things of your father so good things come around you as well. How is your father?"
Lara looked at Jean in hope for a saviour. Jean eyed her suspiciously, hinting she should lie or be quiet; "He is all too well, Monsieur DuCarmine."
Completely convinced of Lara's social abilities now, Jean smiled slightly, and turned to Mr. Ranariddh, opting him to say something. The elderly diplomat kissed Lara's hand and turned to Jean.
"What a lovely lady you have found, Jean-Yves. I will be making sure myself that both of you will be pleased with your trip."
"Thank you, Mr. Ranariddh, you are all too kind," Lara said, before Jean could open his mouth. "Perhaps you could also direct us to someone who could update us on the recent laws in Cambodia concerning the recovery of ancient artefacts."
"Why of course, Miss Croft," Mr. Ranariddh replied, eyeing Lara a bit suspiciously. What was this woman up to?
Jean's mother entered the conversation.
"You take good care of Lara, Jean. It is obvious she relies on you in case something dangerous happens."
Jean was the only one who noticed a slight but steady redness rise on Lara's face.
It was Jean's father who eventually stopped Lara from throwing a bitter comment.
"So, Miss Croft, what is your speciality in archaeology?"
"Well, I do have a background in anthropology, and in Oxford I discovered I had a profound interest in ancient Peru and Egypt, so if I had to choose a specialty, I'd choose the dynasties of Egypt."
Jean's father smiled, and then continued her conversation with Mr. Ranariddh. Enraged for her treatment, similar to a child's, Lara gathered her dress, and started slowly walking away. Jean walked after her.
"You ought to be more careful," he told Lara as they were stepping towards the now-catered dinner table.
"About what? About the fact that we have parents similar to each others? No thank you, Jean. Work is work, and our job for tonight is done."
"If that is the situation, then how about if we stopped talking about Angkor Wat for a change and enjoyed a waltz?"
Lara stopped, eyeing Jean.
"I am not a very good dancer," she explained.
"Surely a woman who can allegedly do a backflip can dance."
"If I were agitatable, I'd take that as a challenge."
"Then let us be agitatable," Jean replied, and led Lara to the dance floor. "After all, if we are going to enjoy a nice, but a not-so-cozy temple together, we should may as well start our cooperation training on the dance floor."
"Agreed, Mr. Bond," Lara replied, and put her hand around Jean's neck as the orchestra started playing the first notes of a waltz.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 1
"Angkor Wat, Cambodia. Land of Hinduism and Buddhism, and undiscovered treasure - and most of all, the Iris, a prize I had claimed at the age of sixteen. Now I was to collect it - but the problem was hidden in getting to Cambodia. The country was under an almost literal civil war, and no-one, except for the occasional diplomat, could enter the shallow waters of The Mekong River.
And our only way in seemed to be Jean's retired father, a former diplomat and archaeologist, whose relations to the ancient culture ministry of Cambodia were worth their weight in gold. I knew he was the only person who could get us in - yet I was still very surprised when Jean called me. He asked me to fly to Paris to attend his father's birthday party. The ancient culture minister of Cambodia was going to be there, and Jean thought we ought to show up as we were both trying to book a plane to the country. I know PR is important, but it has never made my reluctance to wear heels any lesser."
The violins were singing their first notes, waiters dressed in penguin black-and-white were carrying full trays of champagne, and everyone was having a good time.
Except for Jean-Yves DuCarmine. He glanced his watch again, grabbed a small biscuit from a waiter's tray nearby and ate his treat quickly. From his position on top of the guest-crowded stairs, he could see the whole hall. He took a long look around - making sure he hadn't missed anything.
Another waiter passed him with a full tray of oysters in garlic butter. Jean stopped him before he could push past him on the crowded stairs, and asked; "Who is the latest guest to arrive?"
"I do not know, Sir," the waiter replied with a French accent, shot an apologetic glance at Jean, and walked off. Jean walked down a couple of steps, and joined a small group of people downstairs. An elderly woman in a dark yellow evening gown offered her cheek for Jean to kiss.
"Mon amie, Jean! I was just telling Monsieur Ranariddh here what a charming son we have."
"Please, mother," Jean complained slightly.
An older man joined the group.
"There you are, Jean. You mother has been worried that you wouldn't want to socialize with us at all. How nice of you to join us. Mr. Ranariddh, this is my son Jean-Yves. Jean-Yves, you do know Mr. Ranariddh, don't you? He has kindly promised to make some arrangements for that expedition of yours."
"It is not an expedition, father. Merely a tourist trip, to say. I've always been very interested in Angkor Wat and the Hindu culture in Cambodia," Jean explained, aware that he was lying slightly, and hoping he had gotten the Hindu part correct. "Now, if you please, I'll have to ask to be excused for a moment," Jean apologized, leaving his parents as he started another tour of the hall. He was slightly annoyed by the orchestra. The violins were playing too loud, and he couldn't even recognize the melody. Taking another look at his watch, Jean straightened his bow-tie and took another look at the door.
And finally his wait was rewarded.
A woman wearing a long, figure-hugging dark blue velvet dress had just entered the hall, fashionably late. She stopped at the doorway, taking a good look at the well-over four hundred people dancing, drinking and chatting, most of them in French. The woman tugged at the purse she hung on her right wrist, a matching blue velvet pouch with gold embroidery. Under her long hem a pair of elegant stiletto heels were visible; she was obviously one of the few people given the talent from birth to walk on stilettos.
Jean pushed past probably a hundred people, half-ran to the door, and then pulled the woman behind some plants near the main entrance.
"What the bloody hell are you doing, Jean?!" Lara Croft cursed silently, as Jean pulled her to a kneeling position behind the bush. He smiled, straightening his bow-tie once again.
"I just wanted to get a good look at you before anyone else. You look lovely," Jean answered, knowing 'lovely' was, in his humble opinion, a rather mild expression to describe how Lara Croft looked in evening dress.
"Thank you. Though a good pair of shorts can beat this thing anytime," Lara said, tugging at her dress. Jean got up and puller her up with him.
"Ready to hit the dance floor?" he half-joked.
"As you yourself told me on the phone, I'm not here to socialize. If this is as essential regarding our trip as you claimed, then I'm glad you called. But I warn you, Frenchman," Lara said, grinning mildly, "if I'm here for the sole purpose of being your date, then my vengeance will be wrathful." Lara smirked, adjusting the shape of her purse.
"What's in there?" Jean asked, curious.
"Why don't you take a look," Lara said absently, gazing around the hall over the plant they were still standing behind. Jean grabbed her purse, pulling open the top. He pulled out something that was shiny and metallic. A gun, which he held like it was poisonous.
"Now tell me Lara, mon amour," he asked in an overly bitter tone, "What do you need this for?"
Lara's attention was returned to Jean.
"You'll never know what a weak little girl like me stumbles upon on these dangerous social calls." Jean put the gun back and gladly gave the purse back to Lara, wondering what sort of mess he had again gotten himself into. He also knew she was only joking.
"Let us go and meet my parents. Mr. Ranariddh should still be with them. May I?" Jean asked, offering his arm to Lara. Stumbling a bit with her left shoe, she accepted his offer.
"Not your shoes, huh?" Jean joked, as they started walking towards the stairs.
"These shoes were made for me, all so true. But I wasn't made for these shoes," Lara replied, following Jean, who was still keen on supporting her arm like a true gentleman should. Lara had never learned to really enjoy these social gatherings; he only accepted an invitations when it helped her achieve something. And this party was probably going to save her from a lot of trouble.
Jean lead Lara to the stairs where his parents still were.
"Mother, father, Mr. Ranariddh," Jean nodded politely, "I'd like you to meet my colleague, soon-to-be graduated archaeologist Lara Croft."
Lara offered her hand shyly for Jean's father to kiss. "Pleased to meet you, Sir," she said, nodding to Jean's mother.
"And it is a pleasure for me, Lady Croft. I have heard good things of your father so good things come around you as well. How is your father?"
Lara looked at Jean in hope for a saviour. Jean eyed her suspiciously, hinting she should lie or be quiet; "He is all too well, Monsieur DuCarmine."
Completely convinced of Lara's social abilities now, Jean smiled slightly, and turned to Mr. Ranariddh, opting him to say something. The elderly diplomat kissed Lara's hand and turned to Jean.
"What a lovely lady you have found, Jean-Yves. I will be making sure myself that both of you will be pleased with your trip."
"Thank you, Mr. Ranariddh, you are all too kind," Lara said, before Jean could open his mouth. "Perhaps you could also direct us to someone who could update us on the recent laws in Cambodia concerning the recovery of ancient artefacts."
"Why of course, Miss Croft," Mr. Ranariddh replied, eyeing Lara a bit suspiciously. What was this woman up to?
Jean's mother entered the conversation.
"You take good care of Lara, Jean. It is obvious she relies on you in case something dangerous happens."
Jean was the only one who noticed a slight but steady redness rise on Lara's face.
It was Jean's father who eventually stopped Lara from throwing a bitter comment.
"So, Miss Croft, what is your speciality in archaeology?"
"Well, I do have a background in anthropology, and in Oxford I discovered I had a profound interest in ancient Peru and Egypt, so if I had to choose a specialty, I'd choose the dynasties of Egypt."
Jean's father smiled, and then continued her conversation with Mr. Ranariddh. Enraged for her treatment, similar to a child's, Lara gathered her dress, and started slowly walking away. Jean walked after her.
"You ought to be more careful," he told Lara as they were stepping towards the now-catered dinner table.
"About what? About the fact that we have parents similar to each others? No thank you, Jean. Work is work, and our job for tonight is done."
"If that is the situation, then how about if we stopped talking about Angkor Wat for a change and enjoyed a waltz?"
Lara stopped, eyeing Jean.
"I am not a very good dancer," she explained.
"Surely a woman who can allegedly do a backflip can dance."
"If I were agitatable, I'd take that as a challenge."
"Then let us be agitatable," Jean replied, and led Lara to the dance floor. "After all, if we are going to enjoy a nice, but a not-so-cozy temple together, we should may as well start our cooperation training on the dance floor."
"Agreed, Mr. Bond," Lara replied, and put her hand around Jean's neck as the orchestra started playing the first notes of a waltz.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi