Disclaimer: I'm not Tamora Pierce. Deal with it, and take your little stalker-y minds away from here. Disclaimer: Try though I might, I'm still not Tamora Pierce. Sob for me, dahling. Disclaimer: Am not, have never been, never will be, Tamora Pierce so help me god.
Part Three
Ryer Melka's Take
Joren was in one of his moods again, the fifth time in the past fortnight. He wasn't talking anymore; in fact, the most complicated thing that he had said so far that day was something muttered incomprehensible: "shut up," it sounded like, and, "coffee." It was getting worse. He seemed to be off in his own little dream world more and more these days, and I often felt like I couldn't get through to him.
And, of course, I can't unless he wants me to. Rule numero uno about interfering in other people's lives: stay out. Not that anyone ever follows them (it would take the fun out of life) but still. . . . We all have private demons of our own; it is our choice whether to set them out in the open or conceal them under fresh smelling white paint. Myself, I practically have bought out the white paint business. I don't like people examining me too closely, being distant helped. If no one could see behind your smiles, then you were free to glory in your own darkness, whatever it may be.
I felt lonely.
Perhaps this is the wrong time to try and claim a tie of friendship. Or, not quite that, even, but … We are the same person, deep inside. I hate him. I know him. It is screwed up. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I sighed softly, like breathing, and tried one more time to get Joren back into the real world. "Hello in there? You alive?" I called as I waved my hand in front of his face. He haphazardly beat my hand away, almost playfully.
"Get out of my face," he said then, in a polite tone. "Please. I'm trying to think."
I glared at him, exasperated, and he ignored me. Grr. I sat, sulking, against the wooden wall of a rotting alley way. I gazed about, at last taking my first real in- depth examination of the capital city of Scanra.
It was not a beautiful city, not one that artists would flock to, like Carthak, or even one that merchants would, like Corus. I could hardly see how anyone would want to come here; it was seedy as hell, the smell of beer everywhere, street people, drunks, thieves, a strong scent of opium everywhere, but it held a certain fascination for me.
Why would anyone want to live in a place like this? WHO would want to live in a place like this. What sort of a person would live in a place like this? And then the thought struck me: these people are just like me, just like me as well.
I looked around, and saw the city for what it was, a slum. A city without a hope, without a future, damned to an eternity of the purgatory it lay in. All around, the people knew that. And yet they keep going on with their lives, meaningless as they may be.
What a stupid world.
"Lovely," I sighed wistfully, trying to cover up my thoughts, which I was sure were bright and open upon my face. "Just the place to spend my vaction at."
Joren gave me an odd look, not the same one he had been giving me recently, for once a different one, and then realized that it was a joke and laughed. "Tell me about it," he replied, a smile on his lips. "It's just so …. perfect! Honestly, darling, we might want to consider living here!"
I laughed, hitting him in the ribs. He bent over in mock pain.
"Oww ... oww ... the pain ... the pain…"
"Shut up, Stone Mountain!" I laughed, lightly, forgetting my quasi-philosophical thoughts of earlier. "That is MY line! Mine, not yours! Don't be such a thief!"
"What are you talking about?" he asked, irritably. What is his problem? He goes from teasing to arguing in less time than it takes me to blink. "You cannot "own" a word. It's impossible. Freak."
"Who you callin' freak?" I blasted at him, resorting to a bit of attitude that Lalasa had taught me one time, during what ended up as a girl's night in after her male companion had broken up with her, realizing that he had just totally busted my philosophical mood. Damn, I hate that guy. "Look in a mirror!"
"Excuse me!" he thrust his head forward in a very good impression of Lady Nalia, Neal's current girlfriend, who I absolutely despised, except that he wasn't joking. Joren has an attitude problem, I guess. C'est la vie.
"You heard me, Stone Mountain!" I hissed. "You are possibly the most DESPICABLE excuse for a human being I've ever met! You're selfish, you have no discernable personality, you're an absolute bastard who has no concerns about anything other than yourself!"
"Oh? I'M like that? Pay attention to yourself once in a while, Mindelan. You're the most self-conceited, self centered, BITCHY, person in the world You have no understanding of anything except for that which applies to you, you're as apathetic as hell, AND you seem to think that you're some sort of special, and that the world revolves around you. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? In case you haven't noticed, you have possibly EVERYTHING, maybe more, going for you, and you insist upon acting like a friggin'-"
"Tortallan?" suggested a bony looking female, about five foot four, positively tiny, and about thirty five years old, laying against a wall, observing the both of us with disdain. "THIS is what I have to work with?"
We looked at her mutely. "Oh, Goddess," she moaned. "Nothing I can do, I suppose. Come on."
She held up her hand. The tattoo. This was Ryar Melka. I had heard of her. The best assassin in the Eastern Lands, tough, hard, and a mercenary at heart, though she had pledged her loyalty to King Jonathan in this case. She'd as soon slit our throats as help us, if it hadn't been for the money. I hadn't expected her to be so melodramatic, but that did not change the simple fact. We were in trouble.
"Come on," she repeated impatiently. We followed her into the nearest opium den, yay, she really does pick the greatest of meeting places, high on opium fumes, fab job, melka, and she led us in to the darkness.
Conversation, i.e. Argument, In The Opium Den
"No," I said flatly. I turned to face Joren, jutting out my chin. "Not happening. Not in this lifetime. No."
"Mithros, Mindelan!" Joren whispered sharply, his hands up in some form of exasperated beseechment, up to the sky. It was a wonder no one noticed us. Then again, they were too stoned anyway. Or else they just think we're being psychos. Either way, who gives? "It's not that bad! Get a grip on yourself! Okay? It's JUST a job."
Ryer Melka was looking at us with amusement. I had a feeling she didn't have any children. If she had any teenagers, she wouldn't be silently laughing so much. Apparently she found us to be the most hilarious thing since three hours before when two drunks had waddled in here, gotten into a fight, and one of them had broken a chair over the other's head. I was really starting to dislike this woman.
"Yeah," I replied. "It's just a job. NO. I am NOT doing it. I told you. What does it take to ram that thought through your stupid head?"
For once, Joren didn't take major and immediate offense. "It. Is. Just. A. Job. For. Mithros. Sake."
"No, it's not!" I protested. "All right? I have no desire whatsoever to have to pretend to be a friggin' maidservant! I'm not trying to be a guard like you, cuz there are like, no women warrior people here, but MAIDSERVANT? No. Not happening."
"Kel," said Joren exasperated. He seemed to have problems with this concept I was stating. Wait - he called me Kel? "You have to get into the palace some way, Mindelan. Would you rather be a scullery maid? If you're a maidservant all you have to do is serve meals. Come on." Obviously the Kel is a one shot thing.
"It would be easier," Ryer Melka ventured cautiously, playing devil's advocate. Mithros. Do these people know each other ? They seem to be very in tune to each other's thoughts. "Much easier, in fact."
"But being a maid means that she can get in easier," Joren reminded me patiently. He was acting incredibly infuriating. "And that means we can get home faster, right? Home faster and out of this freezing hell hole. Come on, sweetie. Be a sport."
I looked at both of them tiredly. Joren, the icily handsome bastard who happened to be my best friend / worst enemy. Who might or might not have been flirting with me. Ryer Melka, the assassin with the attitude.
"Goddess, how did I wind up with the two of you?" I asked wearily. "Fine. I'll make you a deal."
Ryer Melka smiled, Joren shrugged. "What?" he asked arrogantly confident. He smiled at me. I think my giving in boosted his ego.
"I get a favor," I replied.
"Well?"
I smiled, a very slight, sneaky smile, if I can say so myself.
"Stone Mountain. When we get back to Tortall, you have to go tell Lord Wyldon exactly what you think of him. I will prepare a script. A verbally abusive one, in fact."
"No," Joren whispered, remembering the time I had gone off at Vinson, and remembering my (immense) vocabulary. "You can't. You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, I would," I said lightly. I smiled. Revenge is so sweet.
So Hell Begins
We began our careers shortly thereafter, in the middle of what is politely termed as 'bloody hell.' That's commonly known as midwinter holiday, but trust me, I am going to be unable to see the holiday in any light other than horrifying after this. Except for maybe painful. Agony. Only five days into the job and I already had a newly found respect for servants. Any one who could deal with that much pressure without going mad certainly did not need any self-conceited noble in their face.
So far, in my new job, I have ruined two shirts beyond repair. I have had twelve lewd comments thrown my way by noblemen, and had to smile instead of decking them. I have had the head of the palace servants screaming in my face on four occasions, tripped and fallen on my face on two, and managed to generally humiliate myself beyond belief in front of Joren, who reminds me mercilessly about it when we talk to Ryer.
This is so not cool.
And to add insult to injury, to make it worse that I have to act like a bloody prostitute (I have SO much more sympathy for those girls,) I have to pretend to be married. To Joren. Married. Hah. Hah. HAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHA!!!!!! Okay, a little hyper there. Perfectly understandable, you know? Joren is so unlikely to get married it's not funny. Especially to me. He's pathetic.
We spend most of our days ignoring each other, him occasionally giving me those odd bug-eyed looks that the girls I work with try to convince me are signs of his undying love for me. Some of them think that it's so sweet, that we're married; that we married so young; that we're so clearly in love. Yeah. Right. And I every once in a while get so bored I start reciting romantic plays to him, and he does back. They've obviously never heard of any of those plays down here, even though in Tortall they've been WAY overused, because they always wind up swooning at how "romantic" we are. The words are so pathetic.
"Dear love, without whom my heart would break! At last, you have arrived! I miss'd you, 'twas true, whilst you were away. My heart all but broke, knowing that you were not by my side!"
This time it was Joren initiating it. I ducked my head, attempting to look shocked, but really laughing my head off. When we got back to Tortall I was NEVER letting him forget this. The boy was GOOD at acting!
"Love! Do not say such things, my heart! Such private matters, so public. You cannot say such things! The time - the time for passion is over, love, and now we must settle down!"
"Nay, Syrne!" We had names. I was Syrne, pronounced Shur-nah, he was Georyn, pronounced Gee-or-in. My name sucked. It was some traditional Scanran peasant name, and it roughly translated meant something like "beautiful" and "meek." Oh yeah. As if. It could be slightly worse, though. Georyn meant something about "ox" and "strength."
"Oh, Georyn! You cannot, nay, you MUSN'T, say such things!" I protested, trying to sound as if my heart wasn't in it. I must have sounded a little too convincing, because Joren gave me this rather surprised look for a brief moment.
Luckily, I apparently wasn't THAT convincing, because he stopped looking at me in that way, and started acting again. Drawing me close, to the utter delight of everyone who was watching, who then silently and apruptly turned away, agreeing to let us some privacy, he whispered adoringly into my ear:
"For Mithros' sake, Mindelan, stop acting like such a friggin' ditz. It's really annoying. Go and figure out what the hell is going on here. I want to go home." A little more audibly: "Darling. Sweetheart."
I replied in kind, first aloud, then sotto voce. "Dearest," I said, in a sort of moaning voice, then began to whisper. "Who the hell do you think you are, Stone Mountain? Do it yourself. I'm kinda, shall we say, busy, at the moment."
"Bitch," he whispered.
"Feeling's mutual," I replied.
The Dark Lady Adrienne: Thank you sooo much! I think that Joren is trying to freak Kel out, or something, I'm not sure yet. Sorta the smile that stalkers have in horror movies. You know? That whole thing. I just reviewed your fic, thank you so much for reminding me, I am the worst procrastinator in the entire world.
Charlotte: yay!!!!!!! I love making people hyper, and I love it when people admire my writing talents!!!!!! Hurrah!!!!!! Seriously, I need to make up a cheer for myself. I know someone who does this whole: stand up and cheer, Nancy is here! thing. It's hilarious.
Lady Arabian Knight: I KNOW!!!!!!! ( I find this whole thing to be screamingly funny to me, and it looks like everyone who reads this stuff has the same sense of humor. Poor Kel will have to deal with it, however reluctant she may be.
Keita: THANK YOU!!! NO..... you just reminded me that I'm not allowed to watch tv during the week! Shame on u! I'm addicted to the Simpsons! Isn't little Maggie fab?
The Dark Goddess: You poor thing. About the Latin though . Veni, vedi, natis cunci concidi. I came, I saw, I kicked ass. You found stupid in your Latin book!!!!!!!! That's no fair! All we know how to say is silly. Fatuus. As in, fatuus porkus. Silly pig. And morte me. Bite me. I love writing love hate relationships! They're so much fun! And yes, I AM sure. It's pathetic. Size twelve font. They'll get together eventually, but I think it's going to take a while, cuz I want the whole tension thing up to the max before Kel gets a crush on him. Thank you sooooooooo much!!!!!!! Have you written anything? If you have, tell me, I'll review it, if you haven't, tell me when you have. Bye!
Cami: nooooooo!!!!!!!! Don't get your mind out of the gutter! You have the right idea! Joren is having fun freaking Kel out with the whole stalker routine. And besides, you're giving me all these ideas. Don't stop! Cytosine: revenge is oh, so sweet. I'm trying to write fast, because it is SOOOOOOOOOOO annoying when people take a month to update a story. I don't take any offense. Thanx for reviewing my other fic, too. I CANNOT WRITE HUMOR, BUT I TRY. It was really nice of u. And ur right, you never quite know where penguins lurk . . .
Cami of Queenscove: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!!!! ? entertaining. Kel is evil. I'm putting my personality into the body of a ficitonal character. Ahhhhh. . . . Joren and Kel . . . . . are going to have some . . . . . interesting . . . . . adventures soon. Let's put it that way. I love you, I hate you, I can't live without you? That applies to just about all of my favorite stories. Cool. Thanx!
The Dark Goddess: Ha! Ha Ha! Ha ha ha ha ! But it's soooooooooooooooo funny!!!!!!!! You would havve to see the mental images to believe them, and sadly I don't have ESP. Wahhh. We just learned fatuus because of "fatuue! Est cisium, non rota! Sexte, tu freak." Well not the Sexte u freak, but Sextus is a freak, because he and his friends spend their lives walking in fields, writing while the other dude is reading, throwing statues in fishponds, annoying the slaves, the overseer, and their father, and jumping out of trees in Cornelia's face.
Lady Arabian Knight: I will!!!!!!!!! Thank you!!!!!!!!! Keita, ur so nice, u keep reviewing my fic!!!!!!!!! I'm so happy! Yeah, me too, about the whole neal, kel, joren thing. That'd be so cool to write as soon as I finished this. I was planning on that for a while, but it would require no romantic stuff until like, the sequel, so, no.
Zenin: u too! U keep reviewing this! You're nice. I know. What is up with joren? He's acting so . . . CIVIL. Something is up, here. I'm basing the whole looks thing on this guy I know. Kel and Joren r soooooooooooo much fun to write as jerks! It brings up my happiness level for a whole day. Thank ya! Kill Mr. Peters for me! I think he's related to my English teacher!
Keita: u reviewed again!!!!!! Of course I'm going to make him do it. I want to end this funny. None of the "well, I guess I do love you, even though I thought I hated you," or "I always loved you, all along," or "I still hate you, darling." I hate soppy endings to romance stories. I don't want anything soppy. ARGH!!!! Thank ya, once more.
Hshuler888: thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That wuz one of my favorite lines, too. I am really blushing over here! That's like, the only way you can say that without sounding all "no duh, you creep!" that your majorly thrilled. I'm soooooo glad u don't think I have stereotypical characters. They are soooo annoying!!!!! Thanx majorly! Yu, thanx soooooo much! I know kel's being majorly melodramatic, I'm kinda basing that part of her on me. (I have very wild mood swings.) Yah, joren's going to get more interesting very soon. And yes! Kill Neal!
Angel of the Storms: u were nice and gave me email. I gave her a plot cookie. See, people, wut happens when u give me email addresses? The Dark Lady Adrienne: I'm trying to shove them in as many awkward situations as I possibly can before I actually do anything. I hate those fics where one day they wake up and start making out.
Siren Porter: thanks soooo much!! Joren and Kel are always so much fun for me to play with. (
Keita: noooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!! I don't want this fic to resemble ANYONE's!!!!!!!! Darn. I'm going to write a Ryer Melka fic as soon as this one gets somewhere. Thank ya. I'm sure I'll finish it. That's the cool thing about reviewers . . . you actually have someone to force you to review.
Cami of Queenscove: okay, I need to hire you as a consultant. You are GOOD at various ways to lock them in broomclosets. Actually, that was sorta similar to the idea I had. But I'm not telling. * grins evilly * No, you didn't creep me out, I LIKED that story. It was cool. But I wanted her to wind up with Raoul. Yes, you ARE demanding. Thanx, though. I need reviewers to feed my ego. I only have 3, count them, 3 reviews on my rock-star-lily- evans-falls-for-remus story. Maybe I should stick to K/J fics.
The Dark Goddess: * grins * thank you!!!!!!!!!! That's okay. I am on a perpetual sugar high. And I like this story. I find it funny. Thaz why I'm writing it. Your Latin book sounds so much better than ours! All I've learned of us recently is 'morte me.' Bite me. Oh well, c ya!
Charlotte: thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've gotten used to the no TV rule, though. I spend like 3 hours a day on the internet (I admit it! I'm an addict!) but I don't think I've watched any TV in the past three weeks. I agree. WE NEED MORE PEOPLE TO WRITE K / J FICS OR ELSE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lady Arabian Knight: Thank ya! I'm trying to make it as weird and tension filled as possible before I get to anything. Cytosine: yes, that chapter was ooc. These characters are ooc. Who cares? They only exist in my little messed up dreamworld. Tell the evil penguins I have a flame thrower they can borrow. Tell them to use it on Delia.