A/N: O.o .... Hehe.... Procrastination is a disease; it's not something you're taught it's something you're born with. I've having problems with my computer lately, hope you'll forgive the late posting.
Disclaimer: Somewhere in the universe there is a place where everything is perfect, where every one has their own Eriols and Syaorans to play with, where CLAMP is a very nice company and gives ownership of CCS to anyone who wishes, and where all my daydreams come true. Unfortunately, this is not Perfect-land and I still don't own Eriol.
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Part IV: Tribulations: Of Apples and Trees
Tomoyo woke up to the sounds of merry twittering and a cool breeze on her face. Snuggling further into the soft bed, she just closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of nature. For an instant, she could almost imagine that she was back home, in her own lavishly decorated room and silk bed sheets. Or maybe she was really back in Vergel; the past couple of weeks nothing more than a nightmare brought on by too many thoughts about Sakura.
Sighing, she opened her eyes, noting that she was neither back home nor in Vergel. The window was open and the white lace tulle was dancing according to the breeze. She smelt flowers and something else, though she could not identify just as of yet. Loath to get rid of the warm comforts of the bed, she nevertheless slipped off the blanket and placed her feet on the wooden floor.
She changed into a light dress, vanilla in colour, and plaited her long tresses into a sloppy braid. Looking about the room, she noticed that it was scarcely furnished, with an old wooden chair beside a small table and the bed. Walking, still barefooted, to the windows, Tomoyo looked outside. Yep. Definitely not Vergel. The forest no longer graced the distance and the mountains loomed even closer now.
Just then, the wooden door opened and in bounced Goreneil, a pile of neatly folded clothes in his small arms. The little man glanced at Tomoyo silhouetted white against the open widow. His smile stretched even wider, Tomoyo almost thought that it would split his head in two.
"Ah dide yer washin' an' yer cookin'," he said cheerfully. "Yer free tah go and 'fast." Placing the heap of clothing on her bed, he left the room, whistling loudly to himself.
Tomoyo looked blankly at the space he previously occupied; she didn't even say "thank you". Shaking her head slightly, she put the freshly washed and pressed garments into an old chest that stood at the foot of the bed. That done, Tomoyo headed for the door smoothing her hair while doing so.
When she exited the room, she was struck with a bit of a dilemma. She stood in a dimly lit corridor; doors identical to her own were scattered periodically, wall sconces hanging here and there. The hallway seemed to stretch for miles before giving way to darkness of the distance. No staircases were in sight and she heard no sound except for her own quiet breathing. Where did she have to go? Should she just wait until someone came for her, which, she admitted ruefully, might be a long time? Should she simply brave the complex web of corridors? She opted to face the stretch of pathways as opposed to waiting in solitude. Taking a lantern from the little table in her room, she headed into the darkness of the corridors.
Many heavy-wooded doors lined the pathway, and Tomoyo wondered whether Eriol or Nakuru slumbered behind them. She was almost tempted to take a little peek, but stopped when she discovered that most of the doors were locked. Other, smaller and considerably darker pathways separated from the main one, and Tomoyo could discern light reflected from the candles on the brass door hinges. Shivers running down her spine, she continued her tedious march.
As she progressed further down the dark corridor, she noticed that the floor seemed to be slanting down as she went further in. It was as if she was slowly descending underground, but that was highly doubtable. She also noticed that the temperature dropped, Tomoyo was forced to wrap her arms around her small frame to savour all the warmth she could get. Thoughts ran astray in her mind; what if something happened? Where was everyone else? Had she somehow taken the wrong turn? Would she walk these corridors until she was reduced to mere dust?
Just when she was wondering if she should turn around and head back to her designated room, she reached a sharp bend in the corridor. Faint light flickered, casting orange light to dance on the mahogany of the walls. Craning her slender neck, Tomoyo glanced around the corner to the source of the light. Behind a slightly parted door was what appeared to be the boiler room. No one seemed to be inside. Deciding that the boiler room, occupied or not, was better than the freezing hallway, Tomoyo looked every which way, just to make sure that no one witnessed the crime, and surreptitiously crept into the room.
She noted that shovels, pikes and other tools hanged on the walls, but did not pay too much heed to them. Walking on her tippy-toes for minimum noise, she sat in front of the heater, in which a low fire still burned, and wrapped herself in the excess material of her robe. The heat radiating off of the heater and the added bonus of the cloth around her made Tomoyo feel almost toasty.
This reminded her of the times Sakura and her would spend at the ski resort (Sakura fell in love with skiing after that first time with their class), nestled comfortably in front of the fireplace. They would eat marshmallows and sip hot chocolate while listening to various urban legends (which Sakura still believed in). Then at night, when all the other lodgers left to sleep, they would break into merry songs. The owner of the place would come barrelling from his little cot underneath the stairs and start chasing them around the room. Both laughing, they would run out into the frosty night and fall into the snow -- making snow angels.
Without even realising it, Tomoyo began to hum softly to herself, an old French tune she learned when she was just a child. She stared into the fire, its red tongue licking the grate on the heater. She just sat there in a stupor like state, watching the flamed dance in their cage and softly whispering the song underneath her breath.
"Wut are yeh dooin' 'ere?" A gruff voice asked from behind her.
Tomoyo was brought headfirst back to terra firma. Spinning around her spot on the floor, she faced the intruder. Unconsciously, she moved closer to the wall, seeking some sort of support.
"Ah was askin' yeh a questionne, girlie," the same voice said.
Inching closer and closer to the wall and reaching for the nearest source of protection -- a fire poker. "Don't come closer! I'll scream!" She threatened, brandishing the poker in front of her.
"There's noo neede tah be shoutin'. Ah was juste tryin' ter help," the man said roughly, coming closer but still keeping to the shadows.
"Who are you?" She asked warily, poker still held warningly in her trembling hands.
The man came into the soft light. At first, Tomoyo thought it was simply Goreneil trying to scare the living daylights out of her. Then she noticed that the little man was more robust than her host was. He had a mop of umber coloured hair, wild curls falling into his dark eyes. He wore a dirtied smock over dark brown trousers and a simple shirt. "Stiarpike," he grunted while extending a small hand to the girl.
Looking testily into his eyes, Tomoyo took his hand and with his help got off the dusty floor. "I-I was looking for a way out, but I...." The girl felt the need to explain the reason for her whereabouts.
Stiarpike took a good look at her from underneath his bushy eyebrows; his nostrils inflating with each breath he took. Tomoyo shrunk back from his scrutiny, even though she was several feet taller than he was, her words dying on her lips. He glanced once more at the girl, a harsh sounding grunt resonating form his throat, and turned to leave. Tomoyo hurriedly followed him; surprised that so little a man could walk so fast, noting at the same time that he had a slight limp in his left leg.
As Stiarpike led her through the maze of corridors, Tomoyo tried on numerous occasions to engage the little man into conversation, but every time he looked at her from underneath his eyebrows and grunted an uncommunicative response. Seeing as to how she was going to be ignored the entire time, the girl locked her hands behind her and followed the man as noiselessly as she could.
Stiarpike took a sudden turn into a dark tunnel and Tomoyo began to worry; where exactly was he leading her? She began to fidget with the tips of her hair (she often did this when she was nervous or scared, though surreptitiously so). She was debating whether she should risk bolting out of there as opposed to being murdered with a blunt object, when the hallway came to life. Candles were held in elaborate wall sconces and many paintings and decorations hung from the walls. It was considerably warmer (so much that Tomoyo felt that it was no longer necessary to wrap her arms around her) and she did not feel like she wound topple over with the next step.
"Where are we?" She presently asked, hoping that she escort would answer.
He did not; he simply grunted and pointed to a large wooden door. "Do I go in?" She asked; Stiarpike grunted in return and limped down another darkened hallway. Stifling a sharp retort, Tomoyo pushed at the heavy door and walked in slowly. She gaped -- seriously, open-mouth, jaw-to-the-floor *gaped* -- at the scene.
Nakuru was perched on all fours on the long wooden table, straddling a writhing Spinel, his arms pinning the feline guardian down. On the opposite sides of the two creatures were Eriol and Goreneil, both struggling with difficulty to keep their aching sides from splitting at the seems. The two seemed to be stuffing something into Spinel's mouth, who stifled protest after protest in between the growing pile of stuff in his tiny mouth.
No one noticed her arrival. Laughter and sheer confusion vied for dominance in her mind. Tomoyo stuffed a fist into her mouth to keep herself from breaking into a myriad of giggles. She walked on her tippy-toes to stand directly behind Eriol, who was currently too busy with his own hysteria fit. Clearing her throat quietly, she leaned closer until her lips almost touched his ear, and whispered, "Is that what you do when I'm away? My, my, and I had such an innocent image of you."
Startled, Eriol braced himself against the table, trying to keep cool under Tomoyo's amethyst gaze. Shifting uncomfortably on his spot, he felt heat creep up his neck, to his ears and then spread in waves over the rest of his body. Before he could say anything to the girl -- not that he could because of the lump in his throat -- Tomoyo moved to sit beside Goreneil, as if ignoring him. Signing he returned to his seat, which just so happened to be right across Tomoyo's. For just a fraction of a second, Eriol could feel her lips on his ear. He shivered; he liked the feel of her lips on his skin.
Tomoyo listened with what could otherwise be described as thirst to Nakuru's and Spinel's bickering. Hiding in the ceiling candelabra, Suppi complained that "the pussyfooting idiot" was degrading him with "slow torture". Nakuru exclaimed that Spinel was more fun than a barrel of monkeys and should act the part. The row was broken by Goreneil's hearty laughter and Tomoyo's stifled giggles.
Sometime into her meal, Tomoyo remembered her silent escort. Turning partially to her host, she asked, "I was lead here by a gentleman named Stiarpike. Might I know more about him?"
"Aa, Stiarpike, the grounde's keeper, hee's an odde fella 'e is," Goreneil answered thoughtfully, his bushy eyebrows creasing in concentration. "'e came 'ere onlie a coople o' monthes agou. Been keepin' quiete alle the timee." Shaking his head he said to the girl, "Yeh bettere stay away from 'im. Rumoure hase it, 'e's up to noo good." With that said, Goreneil's eyes resumed their jovial sparkles and his rosy cheeks moved in rhythm with his laughs.
Tomoyo returned to eating her meal, occasionally stealing a glance at the closed door, as if expecting it to burst in millions of wooden shards. A thin line appeared between her eyebrows and the sensuous mouth quirked in a little half smile. Perhaps something was bothering the young mistress? Maybe she was overcome with a new and rare type of anxiety? The Fates only knew, but they were sworn to reveal nothing.
Eriol watched the changes taking place on Tomoyo's face and came to his own conclusion. Concentrating on a spot somewhere outside the small window, he lapsed into silence.
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"I do not like this place," he said quietly to the girl beside him; "it gives me the heebie-jeebies."
Tomoyo and Eriol were walking in the green pastures behind Goreneil's dwelling, conversing about this and that. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, shining down on the two youngsters and bathing everything in serene light. Mountains loomed a pale violet colour in the distance and bird song was heard ringing thought out the landscape.
They were told that Goreneil's farm was once, in the time when peace dominated the vast lands of this realm, a roadside inn. The hotel was passed down to Goreneil's grandfather, who ended up owing a large sum of money to the state governors due to his gambling problems. The lands were then given to their host's father, who converted the pastures to the farm that it was now. And in turn, it was given to Goreneil when his father passed on.
The house was actually a huge burrow that spread miles into the ground, the vast tunnels serving as storage space for food and other stuffs. All the numerous rooms and chambers were concealed by a green hillock. The only sign that betrayed the dwelling was the round door overlooking the eastern sun and the odd scattering of windows.
"Care to elaborate?" Tomoyo presently said, her feet treading silently in the grass.
"I simply feel that something is out of place. As if, something is..." he ran his hand through his dishevelled hair, looking for the right words. "I don't know. Call it instinct, Clow Reed or lunacy if you please, but something is not right."
Smirking almost imperceptibly, Tomoyo replied, "Relax, I believe you. I feel it, too."
Sighing, he gladly changed the subject, "What are --" he stopped abruptly looking behind Tomoyo's right shoulder. On impulse, the girl turned in the direction he was facing and froze.
Stiarpike stood underneath an oak tree, a rake in one callous hand. The three stood facing each other, the youngsters warily keeping their distance. Stiarpike had a frown on, and the girl could practically see the wheels turning awkwardly in his head. Perturbed, Tomoyo pulled Eriol away before he got into a potentially lethal staring contest. Sparing a glance behind her, she noted with dread that the silent ground's keeper was trailing their progress with his dark eyes.
"Nope, I don't like it at all," Eriol murmured under his breath, "especially not Stirfrike."
The two of them reached a large apple tree not far from the main pasturing grounds. Reaching out to pluck a red apple off a branch, and failing miserably, Tomoyo turned her back to Eriol. When she twisted to look at her friend, he was gone. Confusion marred her pixie-like features and she turned on her spot looking for him. Suddenly, something dropped at her feet. Bending down, she noticed with mild surprise that it was a red apple.
Arching her neck skyward, she found Eriol. Sprawled like a cat on a branch was the boy in question, munching delicately on an apple. One of his legs dangled off the branch, the other was propped against the bark.
"What are you doing up there?" Tomoyo asked, the apple on the ground long forgotten.
Eriol ignored her. He took a long bite off the fruit, savouring it on his tongue, contorting his face into a mask of unadulterated pleasure. After he finished all the tasty bits and tossed the core on the ground, he began to lick his digits, one by one, off of the juice. He reminded her of some feline predator who just feasted on a very scrumptious prey. (^____^) After he finished licking his fingers clean, he swung his propped up leg towards the other.
Looking down at her, his eyes shielded by a mass of dark hair, he said languorously, "Come join me."
"No way!" The girl was too quick to respond.
"I promise you won't fall off," he persisted, lowering his voice until Tomoyo had to strain her ears in order to hear him.
Looking questioningly around her, Tomoyo came closer to the tree. She felt compelled to follow him up on the challenge, but she was also afraid of the curiosity his offering awakened in her. Keeping her eyes glued to the soft ground, she asked timidly, "How?"
A decidedly smug -- if not a teensy bit evil -- smirk crossed the boy's soft lips before he turned away. Closing his eyes, Eriol concentrated on the girl below him, using her aura as guidance. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on his pale forehead and his brows furrowed in meditation. He absorbed -- if it could be call anything at all -- Tomoyo's radiance, letting it surge through his veins, mix with his blood until it was a part of him. Tentatively, he intertwined her aura with the thin trickles of magic that still caroused through his system. Intensifying the hold on the magic, he willed it to obey his command.
To the girl on the ground, this looked rather odd. At first, Eriol looked slightly feral, and then the look changed to one of forced concentration, which was followed by something resembling slow agony. Tomoyo was just about to inquire on his health when she felt a strange sensation piercing her. It was like liquid ice running through her system, unpleasant yet oddly alluring. With the newly discovered sensation running through her, she barely felt her feet leaving the ground. Opening her eyes, which she shut intuitively, she realised that she was several feet in the air. Biting down a shriek, Tomoyo shut her eyes again.
When Tomoyo finally opened her eyes, she found herself sitting on the same branch as Eriol. Looking down nervously, she inched closer to Eriol. Reaching one hand, Eriol plucked an apple off a nearby stem and began to devour it, all trace of any pain gone. He seemed to be ignoring her completely.
"Want some?" He said after a while, still not looking at her.
Tomoyo just gawked at him; was he serious?
"It's delicious," he said.
Looking at the fruit in his hand, Tomoyo smirked furtively. Moving closer to him, until her shoulders brushed his, she ran her hand along his arm. While tracing delicate patterns with the tip of one elegant finger, she mover her other hand to wipe off a smudge of apple juice off his lower lip. Looking at him from underneath her long eyelashes, she licked the finger clean. That done, she continued to lean closer to him, her slender fingers still drawing imaginary patterns on his arm.
Eriol gulped inaudibly, his breath catching in his throat. His skin was prickling with tiny fires and his face was beginning to gain an annoying flush. "What are you trying to do?" He whispered, his breath coming out in a warm stream and landing on the sensitive skin of her nape.
Looking into his cerulean eyes, she noted that, indeed, there was a trace of nervousness in their depths. Daubing her lips with her pink tongue, she inched forward. "I just wanted to...want to..." she whispered, averting her eyes as if in shyness.
"Go on," Eriol urged, his own eyes pools of blue jelly.
Glancing at his pale face, Tomoyo moved even closer -- if that was possible -- until she could feel the bodily heat radiating off him. Nibbling innocently on her lower lip, she ran her fingers farther down his arm, to his hand. Still gazing into his sapphire eyes, she traced the lines of his hand, running her quivering fingers along his digits, the other hand caressing his strong jaw. A sensuous smile graced her lips; their faces were mere inches apart....
Suddenly, Tomoyo moved away, a smug smile on her face. Still dazed from the close proximity with the girl, Eriol just stared at her. Grinning, she bit into an apple.
"Heeeeey!! That's mine!" The boy exclaimed once he regained his composure, gesticulating at the fruit in the girl's hands.
"It's mine now. And you're right, it is delicious," she said, biting into the apple ostentatiously. Growling deep in his throat, Eriol snatched at another apple.
After a minute of silence, Eriol said, "Did you know that apples are the fruits of love? Couples would secretly meet under apple trees and profess their love for each other, sealing their lifelong bond with an apple. And then...."
Tomoyo knew he was lying through his teeth but did not comment. So Eriol went on commentating about how apples united the first lovers, Adam and Eve, and how in the early Renaissance era apples were the method of treaty signing. As the afternoon wore on, the two moved on to other, more interesting topics and eventually the time caught up to them.
The two teens sat on their shared branch, one swinging his long legs in annoyance, the other giggling incessantly. As the two watched the sun set over the mountains and wash the surrounding landscape in brilliant crimson hues, the creature returned. It watched them in mute fascination, its fingers digging into the palms of its hands. Its lips curled cruelly when the shorthaired one almost fell off the branch when he was choking on an apple seed.
Later on, when the creature was preparing to make the trek home, "O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip!" was heard from the longhaired person.
Silhouetted against the fading light, the boy turned to the girl and asked, "What was that?"
"Twelfth Night," she simply answered.
"Aa."
After a short pause which was punctuated by the cricketing of various insects, the boy began, "....I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause, But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better."
The long-haired one then spoke, "By innocence I swear, and by my youth I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, And that no woman has; nor never none Shall mistress be of it. And so adieu...(1)" the girl was stopped by an audible smirk. "What?" She questioned.
"You've got it wrong. It's 'And that no woman has; nor never none Shall mistress be of it, save I alone...'" the boy corrected.
"Pardon me, your lordship, but I do not have an eternity to spend reading books," the girl countered with a fake British accent.
"Not at all, lady. It is I who is at fault, for I was not aware of your...inconvenience," the boy replied equally syrupy.
At that, the creature left its hiding place and headed for its home. Biting on its lip, the being grinned broadly. Soon. Soon the little rodents would belong to it, and finally -- the creature could barely believe that it was actually happening -- he would be satisfied as his wont.
(tbc)
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(1) From Twelfth Night, Act III, Scene I. I looooove that play ^_____^
Finally! Sorry again *sheepish bow* I know, this is a boring chapter, but bear with me. Please tell me about this chapter. Was is crap? Too much sap? Too much connotation?