So, yellow to you all (or maybe orange and green). Honestly, this date is just yet another excuse to write. (As if you need that to write some more, huh?) The idea is to turn this into a selection of some of their moments that could have happened throughout the trilogy. But never mind me, just move down and in the end rant about this all you want in the reviews section.
Poem (on deviantArt): art/Swig-519554728
Disclaimer: I wish.
There exists a soundtrack
to this grinding of the years
Laced with surety of purpose
Steeped in tea leaves of fate
And we drink it down
Even as we wince
At the bitter whisper left on our tongues
By the things we never got to touch
- Swig, Bleeding Prophecies&NecromanticMinstrel
If there's something I find immensely fascinating about human race (1), is the habit of adding a ridiculous number of holidays to your calendar. Seriously, I reckon you will end up (somewhere in the near future) having a celebration per day. No wonder we, spirits, are the ones who get the job done - laziness leads to laziness, and so on.
(1) Not too fascinating, really - don't get your hopes up.
I can completely grasp the idea of the New Year's Eve celebration, and Halloween seems fun enough (2), but, please, someone do me the favor of enlightening my wits about the whole Fools' Day meaning. Oh, sure, let's all lie to each other - as if you don't every single day. Besides, try asking this to Nat at the desk over there, too busy bossing Piper and inferior co-workers of mine around to even pay attention to me.
(2) Especially for us. You know, because in that day the bonds that keep us from this world are broken and-oh, never mind, I'll tell you another time.
Obviously, this is completely irrelevant. What the kid does with his life doesn't really faze me, except when things get out of control and I, Bartimaeus of Uruk, have to save the day (something that tends to happen frequently when Nathaniel's around). That or when I can use the information to backfire on him. By the end of the day, though, I'm in my pentacle and Mandrake on his. Any semblance with Nathaniel is pure coincidence, and if I am to expect a "thank you" to leave his throat, I might as well wait for all eternity.
Putting that aside, let's go back to the topic of that packed calendar of yours. Here's a fun fact I recently discovered (3) - on this day, magicians are expressly forbidden of punishing their slaves for outrightly lying. Seemingly the punishment itself just won't work, just like it wouldn't if the accusation was false. The rest of the article spoke of some nonsense I paid no mind to. Now, I don't intend to share this information with any of my fellow spirits, for I have a brilliantly devious plan in mind. Natty-boy will certainly pay for all the pain he has put me through these years.
(3) By finding a conveniently misplaced book in a restricted area of London's National Library, during a small, insignificant job Mandrake ordered me to do.
So, here I am, unlike any normal day around Mandrake, watching, in the form of a raven, from outside the window. He sure looks fancy today; I can tell, even from here, that he went overboard on that expensive perfume he saves for special occasions, and the clothes seem to have been carefully chosen and smoothed; his hair is that of a military cut that he got recently (4), so nothing to do about that.
(4) See 'insulting idiot' above.
He seems to be taking an awful lot of time talking to my fellow spirits under slavery. Well, I'd be a good mate and open my mouth to shout out his birth-name, but right now I value this advantage. When I'm done, the kid won't ever want to play with incense again. I could grin, only that would draw attention (5). I don't need that; I stand out so much of the crowd already I firmly believe that if I were to try and beautify my already charming appearance everyone else would be too humiliated to dare steal a glance in my direction.
(5) What, have you ever seen a grinning raven?
I was so distracted with plotting my vengeance I nearly missed the knock on the door. I don't need to see who it is. All it takes is a glance at Mandrake, suddenly jolting up and rearranging his tie for probably the hundredth time that day, to know that on the other side of the door is Jane Farrar.
Right after the permission is given for her to enter, Farrar waltzes in as if she owns the place, effortlessly keeping her organized papers in between her left hand and her hip.
They were enemies back then, ready to attack each other's throats at any chance proposed, sending loathful glances across the room at one another, etc., and now they're scheming buddies. Pft. Yeah, right. I can't seem to grasp the logic of this kid-
Oh, wait. Hormones,is it? Now that explains a lot.
Well, I have to hand it to her: Farrar sure knows how to play with a hormone-driven teenager. This opinion is based off on how eager for physical contact Mandrake appears to be - besides the prolonged handshake, he keeps lingering closer as she speaks. It's the usual political nonsense. I don't think anyone should be bothered by it. Good thing the desk is in between them. (6)
(6) Farrar seems to think so too, seeing as how she subtly recoils in her chair.
Mandrake should have studied the odds before plunging headfirst into a poisonous partnership. Sure, roses are pretty, and smell nice, but they have thorns too. Of course, his basic eyesight can't really read the atmosphere, and the fact that he has zero experience in the relationship department only adds to it.
I'm so bored I'm tempted to pity Piper over there, furiously taking notes on that overused notebook of hers, to the point I'm sure the pages are filled with pen holes by now. Bravo, Mandrake, now you enslave humans too! You're quite the remarkable young magician.
Oh, there Farrar goes, leaving a flushed Mandrake behind. That was quick.
Time to make my grand entrance-
"Bartimaeus," he calls, not once removing his eyes from the piles of paper in front of him. I can't believe the kid actually spotted me outside of his window. To be honest, I wasn't even trying to hide, so it's not that surprising. "Your report - let's hear it."
Piper stands from beside him with an enormous pile of books and paper, stumbling her way out of the room. In the meantime, I easily pass through the crack between the window and the wall. It's a good thing I'm not inside the pentacle, but rather useless too, seeing as Mandrake is in his.
"So, doctor, after waiting for hours to be called, I step forward to complain about my drained essence, which is a result of overwork and exhaustion-"
"Bartimaeus," he admonishes. "The report, not your whining."
"I wouldn't have to, if you'd just let me be," I retort. Seriously, who does this brat think I am? I am Bartimaeus Sakhr Al-Jinni, the Serpent of Silver Plummes!
"I'm nearing my limit with you, demon," Mandrake warns. "Your report or your inverted skin."
"A total arse, as usual. Are you on that time of the month?" If I am to be honest here, I can't care less about his threats. I am outside of the pentacle. Unless he calls me in, there's nothing to worry about.
I can practically see the smoke leaving his ears, though I'm sure there's not much to burn in there.
"I would ask what is wrong with you, but since I cannot find a single thing that's right, I won't."
To resist the urge to try and punch him across the face (7), I stabbed him in my mind a couple times. "Normally I don't swear around children, but I'll make an exception for you." I pause to inhale deeply (8). "I'm fucking tired and in pain, you gigantic asshole! Can't your oh-so-brilliant skull grasp that fact? We had a bloody deal, remember? Stick to it!"
(7) Something we know to be fruitless, due to the pentacle's impediments.
(8) For dramatic effect. I don't need to.
"You egocentric excuse for a djinni!" I swiftly scan the room for something sharp to actually stab him. "I haven't even been giving you tasks that difficult!" Unfortunately, and as is usual, the room only contains the central desk, chairs, the trash can, neatly organized and piled up papers, book shelves and books sorted out by alphabet. "You're just a lazy, incompetent bastard."
Oh.
"You don't say!" I interject, as I walk around the small room in Ptolemy's form. "I'm ever so sorry, dearest master, for mistaking it for slavery. Please let your enlightening words guide our paths and your orders lead us to certain victory!" I immediately feel my essence boil in repulse at the just pronounced words.
"Spare me from your sarcastic comments," Nathaniel huffs. "Your report this instant, or else-"
"Or else what?" I demand, randomly taking two books from the first bookshelf.
"What do you think you're doing?" His face is now slightly alarmed. Of course, take a book from its place and Mr. Organization loses it. "Put that back or I'll make you organize everything again!"
I almost cringe at those words. Not a good memory, that of the day I had to sort all of his books one by one. You'd think a kid his age would be interested in other things rather than spending all day reading old books.
"Huh…" I fake contemplation as I take another book from its rightful place, and Mandrake tenses up a bit more. I purposely let one drop to the floor.
"Bartimaeus!" he hisses.
"Oops! Pardon me, my hands feel like butter!"
I swiftly throw one book at him, successfully hitting his shoulder. He steps back, quivering slightly, but he's still inside the pentacle.
"What the heck are you doing, you demon?!" His voice sounds bossy, but his face says otherwise.
"Having fun," I admit, hurling another one, but missing the target this time. "Since you bind me here, I can at least make the most of it, no?"
Well, consider this: ten points for members, twenty for his chest and torso, fifty for either his head or… you know where.
We kept going on like this, Mandrake losing his composure every time a book left the shelf, shrieking words like 'demon' and similars. I'm surprised he didn't think of imprisoning me inside the pentacle once more, but then again I don't think I really gave him a chance to.
However, when a particularly quick and strong fling hit his head (9) and he fell back with a satisfying thud (10), palms flat on his sides, I moved fast. I tackled him down before he could even blink.
(9) Fifty points!
(10) Well, I do hate books, so this was all twice as satisfying.
An utterly terrified look graced his face when he realized what had happened. I smirk wickedly at the sight, and he only seems to pale more. Tables have just turned.
"So, Natty-boy, you were saying?" I say slowly in a low, dangerous voice. He doesn't answer, gulping instead. That only makes my lips twitch more at the corners. I lower my head to his ear, purring, "Now that Mandrake's gone, it's only you and me, Nat." I feel something smooth heat up against my cheek. He gulps again and grabs my forearms, trembling slightly.
There are books scattered all around us, and some of the papers he had been looking over fell from his desk, flying gracefully and landing without a sound. Dust swirls about, and the old parchment and ink perfume the air.
"What shall I do first? Eat your ears?" I lick his lobe, relishing on the meat flavor, and feeling him shiver beneath me, digging his nails in my skin. It's been a while since I last ate meat, much less human's. "Chomp your fingers, one by one?" I suggest, finding his hand with mine, grasping it tightly and sliding it through the wooden floor until it's lying just above his head. "Feast on your neck?" I propose, lowering my teeth and tongue to his collarbone, and hearing him gasp sharply, his hands clutching me some more. "Suck your eyes?" I trail the same path with my canines, stopping at his cheekbone. I watch his widened, fearful blue eyes.
"B-Bartimaeus…" His voice sounds hesitant and more high-pitched than usual.
"Maybe I should devour your tongue first," I consider aloud, causing his face to turn red all of a sudden.
"G-get off!" he shrieks, squirming. I easily immobilize him, and use a simple spell to bind his arms and legs.
"Now, Nathaniel, you should know better than to interrupt a spirit's fun," I say in a mocking tone. "Ah, finally! All these years under your insufferable tongue, and now I can silence you forever. Yes, I think that's the best way to start."
"Like I said, it's not like I've given you any difficult tasks!" he exclaims. I'm surprised the kid still has the guts to talk back. However, I won't deny it's much more entertaining that way.
"My essence aches at every second spent here," I hiss. "Why are you so adamant in having me around? You have plenty of other spirits at your service - although I know they can't compare in intelligence and looks." There's no response on the other side. "Really, Nat, you should remember more often that I'm privy to some golden information here, namely your birth name. What kind of idiot are you?"
"Hey!" he interjects. "There's no special reason for you to be here. It's just a random coincidence."
Really? A random coincidence is the best he can do? That reminds me of our previous and much more appealing topic. I press my free hand against his chest, saying, "Well, Nat, there's no special reason for me to not crush your ribcage now, is there?" I feel his heart give a jump.
"Bartimaeus, let go!" He squirms some more, trying in vain to detach my palm from his shirt.
"Any final words?" I ask, tensing my arm, ready to push.
"I'll dismiss you, okay? Isn't that what you wanted?" Nathaniel offers in a last-minute panic fashion.
I snort. "Why would I believe you? You humans are all the same - traitors and liars." I take my right hand from his, keen to break contact (11).
(11) You don't hold hands with someone you're about to crush, do you?
"I promise I'll never call you again! Ever!"
"Then why did you in the first place?" I hiss angrily, feeling my essence revolve like a contained tornado.
"I had to! I-I didn't… I can't… I just…"
Is the great magician John Mandrake struggling with words? That's new. Well, they say people act different at their death beds.
Oh, wait. Is he implying…?
No.
I recoil my hand a little, a twisted eyebrow rising in my forehead.
"You like my being around," I state.
"What?" he whispers incredulously, eyes once again wide. I guess it's different this time though.
"Aw, Nat, admit it! You keep me here because you actually can't live without such a refreshing presence around!" I drawl on.
His cheeks redden up a bit more, and his struggling intensifies. "What the hell are you babbling on about?"
"Tch. You look like a young teenage girl. Can't really blame-"
"Shut up! I charge you to get off of me!"
I let out a sigh. I know for a fact you humans lose your composure when hormones start kicking in, but has the kid lost his brain cells too?We're clearly lying outside of the pentacle.
"You give yourself too much credit, Nat. Acting so collected as John Mandrake, but losing it when I simply sat atop of you." I feel a grin coming up. "Do you fancy me?"
"Of course not!" I swear his face will explode sometime soon. "Get off, you filthy demon!"
I jerk my head towards his before he can even blink, dangerously glaring and furrowing Ptolemy's brows as thoughts of devouring him play in the back of my mind again. He catches his breath hastily.
"Say that again," I challenge in a low growl, watching as he nervously licks his lips. I feel something in my essence stir at that - must be disgust. He's panting and blushing furiously; his eyes look bluer from this close distance, and I can practically count his few freckles.
What a hideous human he is.
"..." He doesn't mutter another word, simply staring fearfully back at me. Even if his big head can't seem to give in, his enlarged blue eyes are sending a plea towards me.
"You do fancy me," I insist with a smirk. The previous plan of using April Fools' Day charm as an advantage is almost rejected now. I am much better at improvising anyway.
"Aren't you just too full of yourself?" he spats back on my face. I dare say I am surprised his breath doesn't smell like incense or rosemary; it's peppermint instead. Well, he is a hygiene freak alright.
"You've got some nerve, Natty-boy, to actually talk back to a djinniwho's lying on top of you and has you completely trapped." I pause to watch him flinch. "If you don't fancy me, then why do you keep me around?"
"I already told you I-"
"Another lame excuse and I'll really eat your tongue."
He shut his mouth at that. I don't understand why he goes all crimson everytime I mention chomping his tongue, but there it is again.
"I do not fancy you, that's for certain," he mumbles with an hard thinking expression and a pout. An adorable pout. (12)
(12) Nope, that wasn't me, the almighty Bartimaeus. I don't know what the writer's doing, so sue that pal and not me.
"Well, you could fool me," I tease.
He keeps his pout for another moment or two, which is quite amusing considering how his arms are bound above his head. Then, it fades, and his eyes look distant for a while. He should just give up already.
"I wonder how we can ascertain that..."
"Kiss me," he whispers. It was so quiet I'd almost swear I had misheard it. "And get it over with." There's some stupid glint of fire in his eyes I don't recall seeing before. "I'll prove to you I don't like you at all."
"Ah! You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I snarl. "Do you really think I'd dirty my essence with those putrid lips of yours? Kiss a mere human? As if!"
"Now who's chickening out?" I hear challenge in his voice, and I am most tempted to just silence him like he asks. (13)
(13) Obviously because I need to show this kid just how superior I am, by proving he indeed feels something towards me. Who wouldn't? He should just man up and admit it.
"Tch. Fine. But then don't cry if I prove you wrong."
It will just be a quick kiss, so there's not that much harm, is there? I mean, other than the fact I never took the initiative to kiss (14) and that humans strongly believe that's how you can tell if you like someone or not - a very fallible test, yes. Well, he's human (ew, I know). However, winning is far more important, and there might be a chance he dies of shame. That would at least trigger the tug.
(14) Does 'perverted masters' ring a bell?
I lean down my face to his once more, but slower this time. Nathaniel's eyelids look heavy and his lips are already slightly parted, awaiting mine. I feel my essence burning and pulsing, which unquestionably comes from repulse. When they met, I'm sure something inside of me exploded.
I should have switched off human's sensations when transforming into Ptolemy.
My essence is swirling around at a huge speed, the epicenter being the place where his lips are, flaming and hungry against mine. I'm nearly scared at my sudden inability to pull away, and I wonder if he's either sucking my essense or if he has managed to bind me in a magic spell I've never heard about. Was Nathaniel planning this all along?
Wait... was that a moan I just heard? Just as I thought - the kid's actually enjoying it! And why are his hands snaking up to my hair, pulling me towards him and increasing all these weird things I'm feeling, when they should be limp and bound upwards? I can't believe the spell broke.
Unconsciously, I move my lips with his, seeking more of those odd sensations. I cringe, much to my dismay, when our tongues graze, barely concealing a moan myself when he bites my lower lip. My nails carve the wooden floor. There, a mark to remind him of his foolishness.
I don't know if it's been seconds, minutes or hours, but when we do slowly separate, my essence pounding, ablaze, I watch his face with curiosity. He's still red like a tomato, his eyes are still half-lidded, bright and aglow with a burning fire, dazed with lust; and his lips are parted, wet and swollen. Again that stirring sensation is itching inside of me.
Panting, he mumbles breathlessly, "Told you I didn't fancy you."
"Liar," I simply whisper back in a hoarse voice, not taking my eyes off of his.
"I am," he agrees with a resigned sigh. In that moment, a faint white light surrounded him. It was for a mere second and very easy to miss if you didn't have access to the seventh plane. "Bartimaeus?"
I can't bring myself to answer him. I'm so embarrassed. And speechless to boot!
He sheepishly touches my forearms again, softly this time, and I didn't care enough to shove him away. I dare say my essence rejoiced on the contact.
This is so wrong.
We are too different - in every possible aspect. He should just let me go now, but no, Nathaniel just had to pull me down to him, and crawl his hands up to my shoulder blades. The worst part is that I don't want him to remove them.
This is so, so wrong.
In my confusion, I can't make out his quiet, whispered words, but seemingly he isn't planning on letting go for a while.
It's all his fault. All his fault and his glowing eyes, and his hesitant, demanding kisses, and his damn taste, and his arms keeping me there.
He even got me to ramble! Stupid Nathaniel.
I'm almost surprised when I feel the tug. I eye him once more, trying to register his impenetrable facial expression. Maybe Nathaniel acknowledges the fact that we are different, that I'm old; maybe he's as disgusted as I am, maybe he regained his sanity, or maybe he remembered I could kill him whenever I pleased.
However, for a moment, a part of me hesitated.
Slowly, I let my head fall in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him one last time, and feeling his arms tighten their grip around me.
I finally give in to the tug, certain that this incident would never be attented to again; crashing into dust against him before disappearing, defeated by the stupid charm I thought would make me have an advantage.
The stupid, stupid charm that had all but backfired on me.
Ah, please, feel welcomed to point out to Bartimaeus what's going on. Seems to me he's in denial.
Also, ignore him and don't sue me; I'll just dust off back to the Other Place myself.
