Author's Note: I just wanted to write more indulgent Sightshipping stuff.
That's it. That's the author's note.
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! and its characters are copywritten to Kazuki Takahashi and Konami. The only thing I own is the laptop I am typing this on right now.
Between his frequent visits to Egypt and willingness to fund archaeological ventures out of his own pocket, it was not an unusual occurrence to see Pegasus J. Crawford running through a site in khaki fatigues.
"Isis!" he shouted excitedly with several papers and photographs in hand. "You need to see this! I did a thing!"
She eyed him as he approached the open air tent, taking a small sip of water from her canteen with a lifted brow. She had known Pegasus long enough to be well aware the man operated on a scale of extremes. He had either been very happy over something small, like finding an old coin, or he had been very happy about finding something that would have her call upon the clan's mystics to help her resolve later.
Don't tell me you found yet another thing that could undo us all.
Then again, that specific mess with the apotheosized Anubis mummy and the Pyramid of Light had been none of Pegasus' doing. Not directly, not entirely.
Everything else, on the other hand…
"What did you do?" Isis asked, lowering her canteen and screwing the cap back into place. She wasn't angry or content, keeping her tone neutral. It was too soon to judge the situation.
"I did this!" Pegasus said. He spread the papers on the desk and gestured to the written script, a blend of Hieratic and English in his handwriting. Isis lifted the paper for inspection.
"Ah, it's a love poem," she said. "Were you suddenly overcome with inspiration?"
"My dear, in your stead, I am always inspired. However, I cannot take credit for the original material," he said with the tip of his hat. "Look at the photographs."
Isis looked at the row of instant photos, as instructed, and hummed in observation.
"So this is a poem you found on the wall of a tomb," Isis said. Pegasus nodded in affirmation.
"Yes! And it was amazing!"
Isis slid her lips in not-quite-a-smile, putting everything back on the table between them. It was commissioned by a baker for his wife, a woman who had run a private brewery for the ruling family at the time. It was a sweet poem in some parts, somewhat bawdy in others, but overall, Isis wouldn't have ranked the entire piece as particularly astonishing compared to other established works she had read in her career and her leisure.
"It is a nice poem, but do you truly think this is amazing literature, Mister Crawford?"
"Oh, goodness, no. I would hardly say that particular piece is on par with 'The Speech of the Birds.'"
"Then why the excitement?" Isis asked, vexed.
"Because I did this!" Pegasus tapped the papers with a grin. "All by myself! All of it!"
It took Isis a moment to realize what he had been saying.
"You mean to say you translated all of this?" Isis said, lifting the pages to read over them again.
"It was fantastic!" Pegasus laughed. "After all this time, after so many lessons from previous tutors—and all the lesson from you—I finally understood what I was looking at! I could actually read it!"
Isis had to smile at that. They could both speak English, Japanese, and Arabic fluently (in multiple dialects). Pegasus had been brought up in a private Catholic school, something they both thought ironic, which had made him well taught in Greek and Latin, yet Isis had an edge in being able to read the ancient texts in their original writing in addition to speaking it. Though Pegasus was better versed in German, French, Italian, Spanish, alongside enough Mandarin Chinese and Cantonese to participate in business meetings without need for a translator.
"Between the two of us, we could have completed the Tower of Babel," Pegasus had once joked when they sat down and compared their linguistic resumes. But Pegasus had known very little Coptic, and had been much less able to interpret hieroglyphics or Hieratic script, while it was one of the first things Isis learned. With another language group under his belt, Isis could very well understand his enthusiasm, and she felt a touch of pride in that she was his teacher.
"That is fantastic," Isis agreed.
Later that week, Malik was raiding Isis' fridge in their shared, two-floor duplex in Heliopolis while she was out in Roxy Square with Pegasus, doing whatever it was they were doing. After swiping a spoon from a drawer, he made his way back to the stairs leading to the first floor, and he stopped walking when he noticed several pieces of paper framed in the hallway.
"What the hell?" Malik muttered, reading the words with a squint. "Wow, this poem is raunchy."
Unbothered and unphased, Malik turned his attention away from the translated work and proceeded to pry the lid off the last pint of ice cream in the house.
- 0 – 0 – 0 -
Over the past year, it wasn't an odd sight for Croquet to catch glimpses of Miss Ishtar on Master Pegasus' various estates. He learned, through casual observation, she was fond of relaxing by the waterfronts, the pool areas, and the meticulously maintained gardens. Though more recently, he observed that she would join Pegasus in his studio for an intensive session of artistic exercise, and eventually took it upon herself to spend her own leisure there. However, it was very odd, and unexpected, to hear the young woman squeal.
"I can't believe it!" Isis placed her fingertips over her lips, equal parts overjoyed and in a state of shock. "I did it. I really did it!"
"Did what, habibti?" Pegasus inquired, walking up behind her with a glass of red wine in hand and looking over her shoulder. Croquet stood a polite distance away with the bottle. Isis improved her posture on the stool.
"This!" Isis said, balancing the palette and brush with one hand while pointing at the canvas with the other. Pegasus looked at the oil painting, then to fruit resting on the stand just beyond it.
"Ah, you painted a peach," Pegasus said.
"Yes!" Isis said, overjoyed with her accomplishment. "I painted a peach! That peach!"
Pegasus and Croquet observed the lone fruit placed in front of a ceramic bowl.
"It looks just like it!" Isis said. "It's not a sloppy orange blob!"
Pegasus grinned at that. He remembered the first time he showed Isis how to paint: how to prime a canvas, how to select pigments, how to determine what color to use for the underpainting, how to mix the colors you wanted, how to be patient with the process. There was a good deal of trial and error, and much frustration from Isis in that she was continually thwarted by a single piece of fruit, but Pegasus could see her steady improvement and her will to conquer the challenge she beset herself. The effort had taken half a dozen of his 9x12 canvases, two tubes of Cadmium Red Medium, and one tube of Cadmium Yellow Light, but the final result spoke for itself.
Even Croquet agreed, it was a very nice painting of a peach.
When the paint dried, Pegasus made the decision to have it framed and hung up in the studio. He looked upon it proudly while Isis stood at his side.
"Well done, habibti. Now that you've mastered still life, you can confidently move on to portraiture. I gladly volunteer to be your first model," Pegasus purred.
"I'm looking forward to it," Isis purred back. "When is my next lesson?"
"Well, I see no reason not to start right now," Pegasus said, pinching the end of his string tie and pulling it undone with a small flourish. "How about we loosen up your hands with a quick session so you can better familiarize yourself with your reference?"
"A thousand pardons, Master Pegasus and Miss Ishtar," Croquet spoke suddenly. "I just remembered: I need to inspect the entrance to the estate grounds, a routine security check. It is of utmost importance I ensure this is done. Excuse me."
Croquet didn't deign for a response as walked out of the room with haste, moving as quickly as he could without breaking into a full sprint.
He had seen and heard enough over the past year to know when his services weren't needed.
END