Authoress notes ~~ thanx all you reviewers, and yes, Captain Jack rocks the
world, but I just gotta say that Will Turner is way sexier. He just is.
Jack's cool n all, but ya can't get any better than Will.
Anyway... I know Artemis is just a little bit OOC, but it's for a good reason, which I just might reveal in this chapter, so STAY TUNED!!
Other than that, I've got nothing to say, except that I've got a new story in the works, which has no romance at all, at least not between Arty and the other protagonist. I'm still coming up with a title, so as soon as I've got one, the little number next to my name on the search engine won't be ONE anymore, but TWO!! Or NI, for Caspian, who can only count in Japanese, as far as I can tell...
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but myself and... Some books....And my laptop....And some DVDs...Honest....0; )
CHAPTER SEVEN (or Chapitre Sept, for all you French people reading this)
"EXPLANATIONS"
Circe set down the food on the table and plopped into a chair. She didn't even notice Artemis staring at her as she slathered strawberry jam on the wheat toast. Until after a minute or so, when she looked up. "Oh, it's you." She said, and then started singing quietly to herself, "I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay..."
Artemis hadn't noticed last night exactly how thin this girl was. Now it finally hit him. She was shorter than he was, which was really a relief, and so slender he could probably fit his hands around her waist if she stood up straighter. It really was disconcerting to see someone that delicate-looking singing a song about bisexual lumberjacks and slathering an unhealthy amount of jam on toast, while rocking back and forth in time to the song. At least for our hero, who had never really encountered anyone like Circe....
Artemis shook his head and returned to reading Black Coffee by Agatha Christie. Or that's what he pretended to be doing. He was really listening to Circe, who was still singing the lumberjack song ("I wear high heels, suspenders and a bra...") It seemed to be about friendly woodsmen who would rather be friendly woodswomen (A/N:I know this is what John Cleese said about that particular skit, but it makes sense. Moving on...)
While eating the toast, Circe seemed to run out of lyrics and instead started saying random things about swallows in a fake British accent. ("Well, see, African swallows are non-migratory...)
This went on for some time before the Fowl heir couldn't take it anymore, and interrupted, "Where do you get all this nonsense anyway?"
Circe looked rather taken aback. "Monty Python, of course. Only the geniuses of their time..."
He shook his head and wondered where the helpless, miserable girl of last night had gone, because this couldn't be the same person. Then it FINALLY occurred to him to ASK HER!
(A/N no, you think? And he's got the highest tested IQ in Europe... no people skills at all....)
"Circe," he inquired, "did you wake up at bout two-thirty this morning, like from a nightmare?"
She thought for a while, then nodded. "Yeah, I think so... why? Did I wake you up, all the way down the hall?"
He tried to think of a good way to explain how it happened without making it seem like he'd been watching her sleep or anything like that.
"I couldn't sleep, and so I took a walk around the manor. When I passed your room, you were yelling in your sleep. You woke up almost as soon as I opened the door to see what was wrong, and started crying, for no apparent reason. Would you care to enlighten me?"
She blushed, apparently embarrassed that he'd mentioned what she obviously saw as a weakness, and put her face in her hands. "Well, you've gotta understand that I haven't had a happy life," she said, speaking through her fingers, "My family gone, no food, no money, no friends, mercenaries after me. It all kinda builds up. If you'd seen the things I have, you'd probably get nightmares sometimes too. Good enough explanation for you?"
Artemis seemed satisfied, but he had more to say. "While we're on the subject of your former life, could you explain to me exactly what kind of magic I'm dealing with here? I would like to know what kind of person I'm housing."
She perked right up when she heard that. "Would you like a demonstration?"
He quickly dispelled any hopes of that. "No, no, an explanation will do just fine, thank you very much."
She looked disappointed, but launched into a description of her powers anyway. "Okay, so you got your basic mesmer, healing powers, gift of tongues, and intuition. And then you've got your more advanced sense of music and art (including the ability to forge signatures and paintings), photographic memory, and ability to immediately use almost any kind of weapon, especially the ancient kind, like longbow and bolas and stuff. And then, we get to the really advanced stuff: certain psychic abilities, including some mind reading, (but no worries cuz I'm not very good at that); conjuring stuff out of thin air, which I AM good at; the ability to inhabit the minds of animals and morph into them; and green magic. I really like the more advanced spells and stuff. They're more fun."
She said all of this while ticking them off on her fingers. It looked pretty funny, actually, if you considered that she was ticking off the different kinds of magic and its uses.
So, while she had been doing so, Artemis had been taking notes on that infamous PDA of his. He read them over, then looked up at Circe, who was drinking her coffee serenely.
"So you're basically a sub-goddess, right?" he asked.
"Basically; I would really lean more towards the title of 'enchantress' than sub-goddess, though. That's why my name's Circe. After the Greek siren, you know?"
He nodded, "That's what I thought. Just making sure; I didn't want to offend you, as that is a rather touchy subject for some people..." he trailed off, but Circe didn't notice. She was concentrating on stacking the coffee cup on top of the plate and jam jar. She was biting on her tongue in an almost ridiculous show of concentration, considering what she was doing. When she finally accomplished this feat of ..... ah..... (sub) epic proportions, she looked up and grinned at Artemis, who was agape.
"Working on my motor skills, Arty," she told him, "My mother always told me I needed to work on fine motor skills; stacking and such."
He groaned. "Well, I cant really contradict your mother, but is it really necessary to do this in public?"
Circe looked around and then whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "I never did what mom said until she hung me in the air for a week running, with no food or water. Now I do whatever the voices in my head tell me to do."
He looked horrified, and she doubled up laughing. "Just kidding, mate, I haven't got voices," she sniggered. He looked extremely relieved.
"Well, moving on, I thought I'd ask, do you feel like you need more clothes? I noticed that the only ones you had last night were some pants and shirts and a jacket."
She looked delighted. "You mean, you would pay for me to buy clothes?"
He sighed. "Yes, but I want to be able to see what you're buying. And you get two hundred dollars to spend. Not just clothes, either. Whatever you need for your hair, toiletries, et cetera. Do you feel up to shopping?"
The answer to which was the obvious and enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!!"
"All right then. Are you ready to leave? The drive to Dublin is about a half hour."
"Of course I'm ready to leave. The question is, are you up to date on the rules of shopping with a girl, and can you follow them?" was her rather cryptic response.
That grin seemed a little too mischievous, if you asked Artemis...
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
**FIVE MINNUTES LATER IN THE CAR, EN ROUTE TO DUBLIN**
"So what do you say when I ask you if something makes me look fat?"
He recited boredly, "I say, you look beautiful. Are you done quizzing me on the etiquette of shopping?"
Circe thought. "Just tone more question. If I wear something so sexy it takes your breath away, then what do you do?"
He rolled his eyes. "I stare and make it obvious that you look nice in that particular outfit. Happy?"
"Yes. You have good manners; this shouldn't be too hard to apply to real life. Just one thing; don't tell me I can't pick mostly black?"
Artemis was confused. "You mean you're not still in mourning?"
"Of course not. I mean, I'm still sad and all, but I'm Goth anyway, remember?"
Butler interrupted, "We're here, people. Steel yourselves for teenagers on shopping highs."
They all took deep breaths and opened the doors. The sight that greeted their eyes wasn't pretty. You have to remember, this was a Saturday at the only mall in Dublin...
Anyway... I know Artemis is just a little bit OOC, but it's for a good reason, which I just might reveal in this chapter, so STAY TUNED!!
Other than that, I've got nothing to say, except that I've got a new story in the works, which has no romance at all, at least not between Arty and the other protagonist. I'm still coming up with a title, so as soon as I've got one, the little number next to my name on the search engine won't be ONE anymore, but TWO!! Or NI, for Caspian, who can only count in Japanese, as far as I can tell...
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but myself and... Some books....And my laptop....And some DVDs...Honest....0; )
CHAPTER SEVEN (or Chapitre Sept, for all you French people reading this)
"EXPLANATIONS"
Circe set down the food on the table and plopped into a chair. She didn't even notice Artemis staring at her as she slathered strawberry jam on the wheat toast. Until after a minute or so, when she looked up. "Oh, it's you." She said, and then started singing quietly to herself, "I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay..."
Artemis hadn't noticed last night exactly how thin this girl was. Now it finally hit him. She was shorter than he was, which was really a relief, and so slender he could probably fit his hands around her waist if she stood up straighter. It really was disconcerting to see someone that delicate-looking singing a song about bisexual lumberjacks and slathering an unhealthy amount of jam on toast, while rocking back and forth in time to the song. At least for our hero, who had never really encountered anyone like Circe....
Artemis shook his head and returned to reading Black Coffee by Agatha Christie. Or that's what he pretended to be doing. He was really listening to Circe, who was still singing the lumberjack song ("I wear high heels, suspenders and a bra...") It seemed to be about friendly woodsmen who would rather be friendly woodswomen (A/N:I know this is what John Cleese said about that particular skit, but it makes sense. Moving on...)
While eating the toast, Circe seemed to run out of lyrics and instead started saying random things about swallows in a fake British accent. ("Well, see, African swallows are non-migratory...)
This went on for some time before the Fowl heir couldn't take it anymore, and interrupted, "Where do you get all this nonsense anyway?"
Circe looked rather taken aback. "Monty Python, of course. Only the geniuses of their time..."
He shook his head and wondered where the helpless, miserable girl of last night had gone, because this couldn't be the same person. Then it FINALLY occurred to him to ASK HER!
(A/N no, you think? And he's got the highest tested IQ in Europe... no people skills at all....)
"Circe," he inquired, "did you wake up at bout two-thirty this morning, like from a nightmare?"
She thought for a while, then nodded. "Yeah, I think so... why? Did I wake you up, all the way down the hall?"
He tried to think of a good way to explain how it happened without making it seem like he'd been watching her sleep or anything like that.
"I couldn't sleep, and so I took a walk around the manor. When I passed your room, you were yelling in your sleep. You woke up almost as soon as I opened the door to see what was wrong, and started crying, for no apparent reason. Would you care to enlighten me?"
She blushed, apparently embarrassed that he'd mentioned what she obviously saw as a weakness, and put her face in her hands. "Well, you've gotta understand that I haven't had a happy life," she said, speaking through her fingers, "My family gone, no food, no money, no friends, mercenaries after me. It all kinda builds up. If you'd seen the things I have, you'd probably get nightmares sometimes too. Good enough explanation for you?"
Artemis seemed satisfied, but he had more to say. "While we're on the subject of your former life, could you explain to me exactly what kind of magic I'm dealing with here? I would like to know what kind of person I'm housing."
She perked right up when she heard that. "Would you like a demonstration?"
He quickly dispelled any hopes of that. "No, no, an explanation will do just fine, thank you very much."
She looked disappointed, but launched into a description of her powers anyway. "Okay, so you got your basic mesmer, healing powers, gift of tongues, and intuition. And then you've got your more advanced sense of music and art (including the ability to forge signatures and paintings), photographic memory, and ability to immediately use almost any kind of weapon, especially the ancient kind, like longbow and bolas and stuff. And then, we get to the really advanced stuff: certain psychic abilities, including some mind reading, (but no worries cuz I'm not very good at that); conjuring stuff out of thin air, which I AM good at; the ability to inhabit the minds of animals and morph into them; and green magic. I really like the more advanced spells and stuff. They're more fun."
She said all of this while ticking them off on her fingers. It looked pretty funny, actually, if you considered that she was ticking off the different kinds of magic and its uses.
So, while she had been doing so, Artemis had been taking notes on that infamous PDA of his. He read them over, then looked up at Circe, who was drinking her coffee serenely.
"So you're basically a sub-goddess, right?" he asked.
"Basically; I would really lean more towards the title of 'enchantress' than sub-goddess, though. That's why my name's Circe. After the Greek siren, you know?"
He nodded, "That's what I thought. Just making sure; I didn't want to offend you, as that is a rather touchy subject for some people..." he trailed off, but Circe didn't notice. She was concentrating on stacking the coffee cup on top of the plate and jam jar. She was biting on her tongue in an almost ridiculous show of concentration, considering what she was doing. When she finally accomplished this feat of ..... ah..... (sub) epic proportions, she looked up and grinned at Artemis, who was agape.
"Working on my motor skills, Arty," she told him, "My mother always told me I needed to work on fine motor skills; stacking and such."
He groaned. "Well, I cant really contradict your mother, but is it really necessary to do this in public?"
Circe looked around and then whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "I never did what mom said until she hung me in the air for a week running, with no food or water. Now I do whatever the voices in my head tell me to do."
He looked horrified, and she doubled up laughing. "Just kidding, mate, I haven't got voices," she sniggered. He looked extremely relieved.
"Well, moving on, I thought I'd ask, do you feel like you need more clothes? I noticed that the only ones you had last night were some pants and shirts and a jacket."
She looked delighted. "You mean, you would pay for me to buy clothes?"
He sighed. "Yes, but I want to be able to see what you're buying. And you get two hundred dollars to spend. Not just clothes, either. Whatever you need for your hair, toiletries, et cetera. Do you feel up to shopping?"
The answer to which was the obvious and enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!!"
"All right then. Are you ready to leave? The drive to Dublin is about a half hour."
"Of course I'm ready to leave. The question is, are you up to date on the rules of shopping with a girl, and can you follow them?" was her rather cryptic response.
That grin seemed a little too mischievous, if you asked Artemis...
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
**FIVE MINNUTES LATER IN THE CAR, EN ROUTE TO DUBLIN**
"So what do you say when I ask you if something makes me look fat?"
He recited boredly, "I say, you look beautiful. Are you done quizzing me on the etiquette of shopping?"
Circe thought. "Just tone more question. If I wear something so sexy it takes your breath away, then what do you do?"
He rolled his eyes. "I stare and make it obvious that you look nice in that particular outfit. Happy?"
"Yes. You have good manners; this shouldn't be too hard to apply to real life. Just one thing; don't tell me I can't pick mostly black?"
Artemis was confused. "You mean you're not still in mourning?"
"Of course not. I mean, I'm still sad and all, but I'm Goth anyway, remember?"
Butler interrupted, "We're here, people. Steel yourselves for teenagers on shopping highs."
They all took deep breaths and opened the doors. The sight that greeted their eyes wasn't pretty. You have to remember, this was a Saturday at the only mall in Dublin...