I just needed to let off a little steam... so here we go, a tiny little ficlet about Arthur's bookshelf. Or, to be more exact, his books.
Enjoy! And if you feel like leaving a review, then please do so :-)
The Word Sublime
As soon as Arthur had left for lunch Ariadne crossed the room towards his table. It was her routine. While the others believed she finished sketches she secretly took in the smell of his jumper over the back of his chair, she traced the elegant line of his handwriting and simply enjoyed what had lingered from his presence. She knew he would be back within exactly an hour (Arthur was so predictable, but in a good way) and ran her slender fingers over the smooth leather of his bag. They caught on the edge of a small green book sticking out the side pocket, bound in faded fabric with golden embossed letters. She flicked through the pages and took in the partly familiar but mostly unsung (at least to her) poetry. Ariadne cleared her throat.
"Yet if we could scorn
Hate, and pride, and fear;
If we were things born
Not to shed a tear,
I know how thy joy we ever should come near."
Her voice echoed off the walls and with her back to Arthur's table she strode towards the big picture window overlooking the city. Again she took up the book and read the poem out loud.
"Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!"
A tender hand pulled the book away from her and snapped it shut.
"Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow,
The world should listen then, as I am listening now."*
He recited softly, not tearing his gaze away from her blushed, yet beautiful face. Ariadne didn't say anything as he returned to his desk and put The Word Sublime back into his bag.
"I hope I encouraged you to read a little more poetry?" Arthur asked with a smile and handed her a brown paper bag. "Lunch?"
*'To a Skylark' by Percy Bysshe Shelley, the husband of famous Mary Shelley
Le Petit Prince
The underground train rattled along in the darkness, anonymous strangers stayed silent except for an occasional 'sorry' if they bumped into each other accidentally. Arthur sat next to a little boy accompanied by what was probably his mother. At first Arthur had cursed that his car had refused to budge as much as an inch this morning and he had to take the Metro instead. But right now he was grateful. It gave him some time to read.
The little boy looked at Arthur with his big brown eyes, not letting go of his mother's hand. Somehow his gaze was irritating, disturbing.
"What are you reading?" He asked Arthur and tapped the white book with the blue and green drawing on the front with one of his sticky fingers.
"A book." Arthur replied without looking up.
"I can see as much." The little boy said. "What's it about?"
"It's about a little prince coming to visit the earth." Arthur sighed and shut the book, leaving on finger in to mark the page.
"I bet he loves it."
"Why?" Now it's Arthur's turn to ask.
"Because the world is beautiful. " The little boy looks down and kicks the floor rhythmically with his trainers.
Arthur thinks about this statement for a moment. His world isn't. It's cruel, unpredictable, dangerous, sometimes enthralling, but never beautiful.
"Does the prince have friends?" The boy asks and looks back up.
"He's friends with a fox. A talking fox." Arthur says.
"See." The boy's mother gets up. "That's what it's all about." The boy gets up too, and grabs onto the red handle bar. "How does the book end?" He asks as the train slows down and the station lights come into view.
"See for yourself." Arthur smiles and gives the book to the boy. It takes a second before the boy reacts, tucking it firmly under his left arm, his right hand clinging onto his mother's shopping bag. The doors open and the flood of people washes the boy onto the platform. He turns back one last time before the doors shut, shouting 'thank you' and returning Arthur's smile even warmer than he had received it.
'Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.'*
*from: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery
Gödel, Escher, Bach – an Eternal Golden Braid
Eames has his feet on Arthur's table, eyeing the book in his hands suspiciously.
"Arthur, I am really worried. Drugs are not good for you." He shakes his head.
Arthur rolls his eyes and takes the book away from Eames, scanning the page quickly.
"That, Mr. Eames, is a picture by M. C. Escher, it has absolutely nothing to do with drugs. It's a bout the paradox, strange loops and such."
Eames cocks an eyebrow. "Tell it to the Marines."
Arthur doesn't respond.
"Now, I used to have a collection of Escher pictures when I was a little younger." Eames continues, and now Arthur looks up.
"Are you kidding me? You actually know what art is?"
"Thank you, Arthur, but I used it for different purposes."
"Do I want to know?" The point man shoots Ariadne a defeated look, she is giggling behind her current model.
"We smoked weed and then had a closer look at Escher. Man, it blows you off your socks."
Ariadne bursts out in laughter.
"You should try that too, Arthur." The Brit suggests.
"Thanks, once was enough for me." Arthur weighs the heavy book in one hand.
"I can't believe our stick in the mud Point Man smoked weed!" Eames shouts through the warehouse. Arthur is slightly offended, Ariadne can see that.
"I was actually quite wild during University." Arthur admits. "I was in a fraternity and guarded our flag." He sounds proud.
"I would have loved to meet you before you shoved that flag post up your backside." Eames manages to duck behind the table just before the book hits the wall behind him.
"Fuck you, Eames." Arthur laughs, picks up the book and sits back at his table, his feet on the desk, flicking through the pages before he finds the spot where he stopped and dives back into the paradox world of Douglas R. Hofstadter.
Perfume – the Story of a Murderer
Ariadne takes her shoes off quietly and tip-toes into the bedroom. The light on his bedside table is still on. One hand is stretched towards her pillow, one holds a small paperback. He fell asleep waiting for her, how sweet she thinks as she undresses silently and slips underneath the covers, inching towards him until she can feel his steady breath.
"You smell good, cherie." Arthur whispers with a sardonic twinkle in his now open eyes.
"Go back to sleep, silly." She answers, turning off his light.
Instead he buries his face in her soft hair, caressing her side with his free hand. He uses the other one too, and with a soft 'thud' the Perfume falls forgotten onto the floor. She is his Mirabelle Girl now, his one and only obsession.
Ok, maybe this was a little strange, but well, here it is, hope you liked it. I picked my favourite books from my bookshelf, I guess Arthur would quite like them, too. Go read them if you haven't done so yet, the are a-fucking-mazing. Sorry for the language. Gödel, Escher, Bach is like the most crazy book I have ever read, it's about everything you used to hate during maths class, and now I love it. But it's not only about maths, it's about, like, everything... woah.