A/N: This is probably the strangest thing I've ever written. It was
originally going to be part of a chapter for the beginning of a long,
chapter AF fic, but it seems my fics have a mind of their own... I guess I
wrote this more for myself than anything else. The feelings described are
genuine. The thrill Artemis experiences are the thrills I've experienced,
though not exactly in the same way. It's difficult to describe. Anyways,
pardon me if you find the story poorly structured, rambling, or anomalous.
But it flew off my fingers faster than any fic I've written so far. My
soul went into it, and I hope you can appreciate that. And it would be
great if I could get your review, because I truly am impossible at judging
my own work. This is my first time posting in the AF section, and I am
still self-conscious about my writing.
Enough said.
Thank you for reading thus far already.
- D'arvit Tyranny
[Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim owning/selling/etcetering anything Artemis Fowl. They're all property of Eoin Colfer.]
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ FLYING
Artemis sat at the cockpit beside Butler, watching the ocean unfold before him. He shifted in the leather pilot's chair, hands resting easily on the armrests. No piloting for today, Artemis thought, not even glancing down on the controls spread out on the panel before him. His father, Artemis senior, wanted to take the family on a relaxing, replenishing vacation to Hawaii for the Christmas holidays. That meant no work, not even piloting.
Relaxing. Replenishing. Artemis gave a gentle sigh.
Butler, Artemis' manservant, though busy checking the fuel tank and propellant velocity, saw Artemis' shoulders heave slightly. Butler quickly glanced at Artemis out of the corner of his eye. Artemis still had his sunglasses on, so Butler had now idea what he looked like. He decided not to say anything.
Artemis did not notice. He was barely aware of Butler's hands moving across the panel. Artemis was momentarily lost in a silent reverie. He was staring at the horizon, slightly curved at their altitude. It was a cloudless day on the Pacific, and the sky was blue, bluer than he has ever seen it. And the water was blue. Bluer than he has ever seen it. As the jet plane hurtled forward, the sky seemed to ascend – higher and higher, while the sea sank – deeper and deeper. The higher the sky rose, the deeper the sea sank, all splitting off at a common latitude, and the plane's pursuit of the horizon seemed to last for eternity, and Artemis was absolutely lost, lost in its overwhelming infiniteness, its simple equilibrium, and the exhilaration of the speeding jet plunging towards the encompassing vortex of blue.
Lost, lost...
And he suddenly felt too real.
Had his sunglasses been off, Butler would have seen Artemis' eyes slack unnaturally. He would have asked if Artemis was feeling airsick. Or he would have told Artemis he could rest more comfortably with his parents in the rear. Instead, Butler checked one last meter and left the cockpit, leaving the jet on autopilot.
It was lunchtime, and Domovoi Butler was hungry.
As he passed Mr and Mrs Fowl, Butler bowed his head and said to Angeline, "Lunch will be here in a few minutes."
Angeline Fowl smiled and nodded her thanks silently. Her husband was sleeping, lounged out, in the seat beside her. Butler moved off.
Angeline touched her husband's hand gently, and then rested her head on his chest. She closed her eyes, thinking about what a wonderful vacation it would be, and she was happy.
In the cockpit, Artemis' body sat unmoving in his chair. His soul was flying, outside, alongside the jet, at seven hundred kilometers per hour.
Lost, lost... in the vortex of blue...
Gradually, Artemis found his way back to his normal being. His brain seemed to be reloading after experiencing a complete shutdown, and pieces of it were reassembling itself, particular, in his cranium. Artemis sank deeper into the leather chair, too exhausted to wonder. Too insubstantial yet to think. Then he realized Butler was gone. He was thankful for that.
Artemis gave the control panel a quick sweep. The autopilot was functioning fine. He looked at the velocity meter. The glass reflected the narrow corridor behind him, and, shifting slightly to the right, Artemis could see his parents. They both seemed to be sleeping.
The announcement for this trip had come suddenly one December evening at the Fowl Manor. Though he was expecting something of the like to occur imminently, (his parents were uncharacteristically subdued for that time of the year,) Artemis was still surprised. They had boarded their jet the next day, which, Artemis now mused briefly, was in fact only yesterday.
Replenishing. His father used that word. What for, Artemis had asked himself cynically when they Ireland.
Did their family simply need some (of the extraordinarily overused excuse) 'time away'? To replenish their feeling of youthfulness? Not unreasonable, Artemis had thought, cynically still. As parents watch their young grow into adolescents, teetering on the edge of adulthood themselves, parents fall into and inevitable senility. Then, it was not unreasonable for Artemis' parents to have felt that age, however subtle it may be, and fear it. Cover it up. Try to ward it off. Do something bold, impulsive, and cliché.
But Artemis knew it was much more than that. It was more. Much more.
Replenish. To replenish their family's feeling of love. The feeling of closeness. The feeling of family. There was no other way to say it. Their family had been to hell and back. Several occasions, it threatened nonexistence. Several times, Artemis found he felt the apprehension. And that was all he had – the apprehension that what he didn't have, his family – would be condemned as never. That worry sustained him; he clung onto it and cherished it unwittingly. And he saved them, Artemis thought, he saved them all.
Artemis' brain re-pieced its last particle, and Artemis was suddenly extra- sensitive to the coolness of the air, the vibration of the jet, the sleeping sounds of his parents, and the rhythms of his own mind and body. Then the understanding of love and family...
Deeper than the ocean, higher than the sky.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(A/N: Don't read this, Ash! This story is supposed to be set after book 3, and Artemis did recover his memory here, though that is hardly elaborated upon because the focus is more on his family.)
This story goes out to all the new people I met in Criminality. (criminality.popullus.net) Look! I finally wrote something! *gives everyone a hug*
Enough said.
Thank you for reading thus far already.
- D'arvit Tyranny
[Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim owning/selling/etcetering anything Artemis Fowl. They're all property of Eoin Colfer.]
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ FLYING
Artemis sat at the cockpit beside Butler, watching the ocean unfold before him. He shifted in the leather pilot's chair, hands resting easily on the armrests. No piloting for today, Artemis thought, not even glancing down on the controls spread out on the panel before him. His father, Artemis senior, wanted to take the family on a relaxing, replenishing vacation to Hawaii for the Christmas holidays. That meant no work, not even piloting.
Relaxing. Replenishing. Artemis gave a gentle sigh.
Butler, Artemis' manservant, though busy checking the fuel tank and propellant velocity, saw Artemis' shoulders heave slightly. Butler quickly glanced at Artemis out of the corner of his eye. Artemis still had his sunglasses on, so Butler had now idea what he looked like. He decided not to say anything.
Artemis did not notice. He was barely aware of Butler's hands moving across the panel. Artemis was momentarily lost in a silent reverie. He was staring at the horizon, slightly curved at their altitude. It was a cloudless day on the Pacific, and the sky was blue, bluer than he has ever seen it. And the water was blue. Bluer than he has ever seen it. As the jet plane hurtled forward, the sky seemed to ascend – higher and higher, while the sea sank – deeper and deeper. The higher the sky rose, the deeper the sea sank, all splitting off at a common latitude, and the plane's pursuit of the horizon seemed to last for eternity, and Artemis was absolutely lost, lost in its overwhelming infiniteness, its simple equilibrium, and the exhilaration of the speeding jet plunging towards the encompassing vortex of blue.
Lost, lost...
And he suddenly felt too real.
Had his sunglasses been off, Butler would have seen Artemis' eyes slack unnaturally. He would have asked if Artemis was feeling airsick. Or he would have told Artemis he could rest more comfortably with his parents in the rear. Instead, Butler checked one last meter and left the cockpit, leaving the jet on autopilot.
It was lunchtime, and Domovoi Butler was hungry.
As he passed Mr and Mrs Fowl, Butler bowed his head and said to Angeline, "Lunch will be here in a few minutes."
Angeline Fowl smiled and nodded her thanks silently. Her husband was sleeping, lounged out, in the seat beside her. Butler moved off.
Angeline touched her husband's hand gently, and then rested her head on his chest. She closed her eyes, thinking about what a wonderful vacation it would be, and she was happy.
In the cockpit, Artemis' body sat unmoving in his chair. His soul was flying, outside, alongside the jet, at seven hundred kilometers per hour.
Lost, lost... in the vortex of blue...
Gradually, Artemis found his way back to his normal being. His brain seemed to be reloading after experiencing a complete shutdown, and pieces of it were reassembling itself, particular, in his cranium. Artemis sank deeper into the leather chair, too exhausted to wonder. Too insubstantial yet to think. Then he realized Butler was gone. He was thankful for that.
Artemis gave the control panel a quick sweep. The autopilot was functioning fine. He looked at the velocity meter. The glass reflected the narrow corridor behind him, and, shifting slightly to the right, Artemis could see his parents. They both seemed to be sleeping.
The announcement for this trip had come suddenly one December evening at the Fowl Manor. Though he was expecting something of the like to occur imminently, (his parents were uncharacteristically subdued for that time of the year,) Artemis was still surprised. They had boarded their jet the next day, which, Artemis now mused briefly, was in fact only yesterday.
Replenishing. His father used that word. What for, Artemis had asked himself cynically when they Ireland.
Did their family simply need some (of the extraordinarily overused excuse) 'time away'? To replenish their feeling of youthfulness? Not unreasonable, Artemis had thought, cynically still. As parents watch their young grow into adolescents, teetering on the edge of adulthood themselves, parents fall into and inevitable senility. Then, it was not unreasonable for Artemis' parents to have felt that age, however subtle it may be, and fear it. Cover it up. Try to ward it off. Do something bold, impulsive, and cliché.
But Artemis knew it was much more than that. It was more. Much more.
Replenish. To replenish their family's feeling of love. The feeling of closeness. The feeling of family. There was no other way to say it. Their family had been to hell and back. Several occasions, it threatened nonexistence. Several times, Artemis found he felt the apprehension. And that was all he had – the apprehension that what he didn't have, his family – would be condemned as never. That worry sustained him; he clung onto it and cherished it unwittingly. And he saved them, Artemis thought, he saved them all.
Artemis' brain re-pieced its last particle, and Artemis was suddenly extra- sensitive to the coolness of the air, the vibration of the jet, the sleeping sounds of his parents, and the rhythms of his own mind and body. Then the understanding of love and family...
Deeper than the ocean, higher than the sky.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(A/N: Don't read this, Ash! This story is supposed to be set after book 3, and Artemis did recover his memory here, though that is hardly elaborated upon because the focus is more on his family.)
This story goes out to all the new people I met in Criminality. (criminality.popullus.net) Look! I finally wrote something! *gives everyone a hug*