Disclaimer: I do NOT own "Inkspell" OR "Like Whoa"
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This is my first Inkheart fanfic, but definitely not my first fanfic, so I do hope you enjoy this one :D
Um, the words are actually from Inkspell (but as you can see my disclaimer), I only own my creativity ;) lol jkjk
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There was a knock.
A knock on the door. Rosenquartz peered out of his nest, his face anxious, and Fengolio turned around, both alarmed and annoyed.
"Meggie?" whispered a voice. "Are you there, Meggie?"
It was Farid.
Life is good I can't complain.
I mean I could but no one's listening.
Your image overwhelms my brain,
And it feels good, good, good.
"What does he want here?" Fenoglio uttered a less than delicate curse. "Send him away. We really can't do with having him here aroundjust now. Oh – oh, look! Here he comes! Meggie, you're an enchantress!"
The hoofbeatts were louder now. But Meggie did not go to the window; she walked to the door instead. Farid was standing outside, his face downcast. He looked almost as if he'd been crying. "It's Gwin, Meggie…Gwin's back," he stammered. "I don't know how he found me! I even threw stones to make him go away."
"Meggie!" Fenoglio's voice sounded worse than merely irritated. "Where are you?"
Without a word, she took Farid's hand and drew him over to the window with her.
Now I'm rolling my window down.
I love the wind, but I hate the sound.
You're like a tattoo I can't remove.
And it feels good, it feels good, it feels good.
A white horse was coming up the narrow alley. Its rider had black hair, and his face was as young and handsome as the face of the statues in the castle, but his eyes were not stony white; instead, they were bright and as dark as his hair. He was looking around as if he had just woken from a dream, and one that didn't entirely fit in with what he now saw.
"Cosimo!" whispered Farid, bewildered. "The dead Cosimo!"
Like a roller coaster ride.
Holding on, white knuckles like.
Whoa, whoa.
(Can't believe I'm like)
Whoa, whoa.
(Everything I'm feeling like)
"Not exactly," Fenoglio whispered back. "First, he isn't dead, as you can see for yourself, and second, he's not that Cosimo. He's a new one, a brand-new one, and Meggie and I have made him between us. Of course no one else will notice."
"Not even his wife?"
"Well, maybe she will! But who cares about that? She hardly ever leaves the castle."
Cosimo reined in his horse just a foot or two from Minerva's house. Instinctively, Meggie stepped back from the window. "What about him?" she whispered. "Who does he himself think he is?"
"What a question! He thinks he's Cosimo, of course!" replied Fenoglio impatiently. "Don't get me confused, for heaven's sake! All we've done is make sure the story goes on the way I originally planned it, no more and no less!"
Cosimo turned in his saddle and stared back down the street the way he had come – as if he had lost something but forgotten what it was. Then he clicked his tongue softly and urged his horse on, past Minerva's husband's workshop and the narrow house where the physician lived. Fenoglio often complained of the man's lack of skill in pulling teeth.
"That's not a good idea." Farid retreated from the window as if the Devil himself had gone riding by. "It's bad luck to summon the dead."
Up and down and side to side.
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa, whoa.
(Got me feeling like)
Whoa, whoa
(Everything I'm like)
"He never was dead!" snapped Fenoglio. "How often do I have to explain? He was born this very day, from my words and Meggie's voice, so don't talk such nonsense. What are you doing here, anyway? Since when do people come visiting decent girls in the middle of the night?"
In the morning it begins again.
It feels like I'm falling, better strap me in.
I think I'm running out of oxygen.
And it feels good, it feels good, it feels good.
Farid's face flushed dark red. Then he turned without a word and went to the door.
"Leave him alone! He can visit me whenever he likes!" Meggie told Fenoglio sharply. The stairs were slippery with rain, and she didn't catch up with Farid until he had reached the last step. He looked so sad.
Like a roller coaster ride.
Holding on, white knuckles like,
Whoa, whoa.
(Can't believe I'm like)
Whoa, whoa,
Everything I'm like.
"What did you tell Dustfinger? Did you tell him how Gwin followed us?"
"No, I didn't dare." Farid leaned against the wall of the house and closed his eyes. "You should have seen his face when he saw the marten. Do you think he'll have to die now, Meggie?"
She put out her hand and touched his face. He really had been crying. She could feel the dried tears on his skin.
Up and down and side to side.
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa, whoa.
(Got me feeling like)
Whoa, whoa
(Everything I'm like)
"That's what Cheeseface said!" She could hardly make out the words he was whispering. "He said I'd bring him bad luck."
"What are you talking about? Dustfinger should be glad to have you!"
Farid looked up at the sky. Rain was still falling. "I must go back," he said. "That's why I came. To tell you I must stay with him now. I have to look after him – do you understand? If I keep close by him, then nothing bad will happen. You can visit me, though, at Roxane's farm! We're there most of the time, Dustfinger is crazy about her, he hardly ever leaves her side. Roxane this, Roxane that…" There was no mistaking the jealousy in his voice.
My inhibitions are weakening to let go.
Place, situation, I can't help but lose control.
No inner friction that I cannot seem to break.
It feels good, it feels good.
Meggie knew how he felt. She still clearly remembered those first few weeks back at Elinor's house, and her troubled heart when Mo spent hours going for walks with Resa and didn't even ask if she would like to come, too. She remembered what it felt like to stand outside a closed door and hear her father's laughter on the other side, laughter meant not for her but for her mother. "Why do you look like that?" Elinor had asked her once, when she had found Meggie watching the two of them in the garden. "Half his heart still belongs to you. Isn't that enough?" She had felt so ashamed. At least Farid was only jealous of a stranger. She'd been jealous of her own mother.
"Please, Meggie! I must stay with him. Who else is going to look after him? Roxane? She doesn't know anything about the marten, and anyway…"
Meggie turned her head away so that he wouldn't see her disappointment. Bother Gwin! She traced small circles on the damp ground with her toe.
"You will come, won't you?" Farid took her hands. "There are wonderful plants growing in Roxane's fields, and she has a goose who thinks she's a watchdog, and an old horse. Jehan, that's her son, says there's a linchetto living in the stable, don't ask me what a linchetto is, but Jehan says if you fart at it, it runs away. Well, Jehan's still a baby, but I think you'd like him…."
"Is he Dustfinger's son?" Meggie tucker her hair back behind her ear and tried to smile.
I'm holding on.
(Holdin', holdin', holdin', holdin')
(Holdin', holdin', holdin', holdin')
"No, but guess what? Roxane thinks I am. Imagine that! Please, Meggie! Come to Roxane's, do!" He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her full on her mouth. His skin was wet with rain. When she didn't pull away, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, on her forehead, on her nose, on her mouth once more. "You will come, won't you? Promise!" he whispered.
Then he ran away, fleet-footed as always, ever since the day Meggie had first set eyes on him. "You must come!" he called back to her once more, before disappearing into the dark passage leading out to the street. "Maybe you'd better stay with us for a while – Dustfinger and me, I mean! That old man is crazy. You don't go playing games with the dead!"
I'm holdin' on like a roller coaster ride,
Like I'm running a red light,
Like a rocket ship in flight,
Something else that makes me feel like
Whoa.
Then he had gone, and Meggie was leaning against the wall of Minerva's house, where Farid had been standing a moment ago. She passed her fingers over her mouth, as if she must make sure that Farid's kiss had not changed it in some way.
"Meggie?" Fenoglio was standing at the top of the stairs, a lantern in his hand. "What are you doing down there? Has the boy gone? What did he want? Standing around in the dark there with you!"
Like a roller coaster, whoa.
Holding on, white knuckles, whoa.
Won't you let your lovin' roll?
Meggie did not reply. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to listen to what her bewildered heart was telling her.
Every inch of me is like, whoa
(Got me feeling like)