I am not making any money with this. I do not own Lara Croft, Tomb Raider
etc.
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 5
The next morning came for Lara as easily as any morning comes to one running a considerable fever. Dragging herself to the shover, she had her suspicions about the so-called flu she had caught, but thinking about the Iris made her almost forgot how awful she was feeling. No matter how hot she turned the water, she almost felt as if she was freezing. 'Must be the fever', Lara thought, as she opened the bathroom door and let the steam out into the fresh, flowery Siem Reap air. Her window had a view to the garden, and, draped in a towel, Lara sat down in front of the table and enjoyed the scene. A couple of monkeys were running in the garden and the hotel keepers' toddler-aged children were running around naked. One of them had a prosthetic leg and walking sticks, but it did not seem to slow the little girl down. As she noticed Lara, she smiled with her almost perfect teeth. Lara waved her hand to the little girl. The girl looked at her, and disappeared for a second. Then she appeared suddenly in front of Lara's window, her hand outstretched, holding a mango. Lara thanked her, gave the little girl her last Mars bar, and then wandered to the hotel corridor in her dressing robe. She knocked on Jean's door. Cursing her now ever-present headache, she waited for Jean to answer.
The door opened with a screech.
"Morning," Lara said, pulling the hem of her robe tighter. She marveled at Jean's room. Never had she seen a male student's room or flat as neat as Jean's.
"Morning," Jean replied, and continued buttoning up his shirt. "Listen, I've been thinking. I know you'd never even consider it, but for the record's sake, why don't we cancel the temple trip for today and go to the Lake?"
"Are you kidding?" Lara asked politely, leaning on the back of a chair.
"Judging by your reaction, probably," Jean sighed.
"Actually," Lara said, "I could use some more hours of sleep."
Jean-Yves stopped at his heels. This was not what he had been expecting from Lara Croft, who the day before had seemed like no matter what virus was colonizing her body, she would have gone and hunted the Iris, even if it meant piggybacking Jean-Yves to the goal.
"If you say so," Jean said, still surprised. "Was this what you came to tell me?"
"No, actually, I was just wandering," Lara said, and returned to her room to clean her guns.
After a good ten hours of sleep, Lara woke up. It felt like she spent more time waking up than hunting down the Iris. Or so it seemed - waking up had became very difficult. Letting go of the safe haze served fresh by her unconsciousness required throwing pillows around, taking a shower, and almost shooting herself in the leg when she accidentally unplugged the safety clip while placing her guns in their holsters.
This time, though, waking up did not seem like such a marathon. Lara felt excellent. She jumped out of the bed, checked her watch - too late for Angkor Wat. 'Oh well', she said to herself, 'time to freshen up things here a bit'. She dressed in heeled sandals, a spaghetti strap top, and a long, linen skirt, and went to knock on Jean's door.
It was unlocked, so Lara stepped in. Jean stood on his bed, surrounded by piles and piles of books, laserprints and copies of book pages. He raised his head and saw Lara.
"Evening, Miss Croft. What's the occasion?"
Lara pulled him up from the bed. "Tomorrow we're going to recover the Angkorean Iris. Tonight we're going to recover eleven drinks and a nang sbaek."
"A what?" Jean asked, already catching Lara's drift.
"A nang sbaek," Lara explained, forming a flower with her palms and pointing at the shadow casting on the wall, "is a shadow play."
And indeed they did. The play, its plot forming scenes of the Ramayana, a holy book for both the ancient and modern Cambodians, was a tasteful and charming event, and after it Lara and Jean moved to Prassat Sonr, a night club west of their hotel. Lara was in a surprisingly good mood, despite the fact that they had wasted one day. Both had three glasses of wine - both Lara and Jean thought in their silence that the other was well enough brought up not to get drunk. It was well over midnight when they started the moderately long walk back to Grand Hotel d'Angkor.
"You know Jean," Lara said, half-laughing as they were walking down Sivutha Street, "where would you be rather than here?"
"I don't think you need to be told this," Jean said, putting his arm around Lara's shoulders, "But I don't want to be anywhere but here."
"Do I have anything to do with that opinion?" Lara asked silently, all laugh gone from her voice.
"Maybe," Jean teased.
"Don Juan," Lara threw back, and quickened his pace. "I'll race you to the hotel!"
"You kidding? You'll stumble to your death in that skirt and heels."
"Remember the killers I had at your father's birthday gala," Lara asked, accentuating the word 'gala', "you know what I did with them?"
Jean laughed, suspecting a joke. "I wonder?"
"Let's say a certain river has had a good, leathery meal."
Jean half-laughed, knowing Lara was trying to make him guess. They were approaching the bridge across the Siem Reap river, and Lara sat down on a large rock near the bridge gates.
"Seine?"
"Bull's eye."
"You threw your shoes to the Seine?" Jean asked, amused, not knowing why.
Lara nodded, got up, and continued down the bridge.
"What about you? Where would you be rather than here?"
"Nowhere, Jean. Nowhere. You're way too good company. You know what I wonder sometimes?"
"Tell me," Jean replied, and Lara surprised him with a quick kiss. They continued down the bridge.
"I wonder when I'm going to grow up," she joked, and Jean kissed her back.
"What do you mean?" Jean asked.
"I wonder when I'm going to stop running around and begin wanting a family and a steady income in some ridiculous large corporation where promotions are handed on by the bustline rank."
"What's wrong with running around?" Jean asked the silent Cambodian night. They walked to the hotel in silence. Quietly, they walked through the lightless reception to the corridor. Lara waved her hand to Jean for a goodnight wish, but he grabbed her arm just as Lara was stepping in to her own room.
"Lara?" he asked with no hint whatsoever of humor in his tone.
"Yes?" she asked, tugging her skirt.
"Marry me."
Seconds later, Lara closed and locker her door. Feeling like a teenager running away from home, she double-checked the door lock and sat down on her bed.
'I can not believe what I just heard.'
Lara kicked off her sandals and fell on her back on the bed. Remembering her joke about growing up, she felt as if it had crept back behind her and bit her in the ankle. How could she feel both very taken and furious at once?
'How could he not understand?'
She sat up again - gazed at her surroundings in the dark room. The moon shone outside, and someone in Siem Reap was having a feast of some sort. The river carried voices and laughter from perhaps miles away.
A lonely fishing boat floated on the still waters of the Siem Reap river.
'How could he not understand a single point in what has happened to me?'
Lara picked up a pillow. It was peach-colored and embroidered - not a very soft pillow. She inspected it carefully.
'Did I tell him? Did I tell him about my father?'
He doesn't care, the EvilLara said.
You didn't tell him, AngelLara reminded.
Hating them both, Lara Croft threw the pillow in the air and sent it to the wall with a fierce kick.
She sat down on the floor.
Friends? Was this what happened always between friends who happened to be of the opposite sex? One falls in love, the other breaks havoc.
She loved Jean. Simply and modestly. Yet she loved also the Iris. Simply and modestly. She was ambitious. And young. She could do anything.
Buried too deep in her thoughts, she had not even noticed the sound of glass breaking as the pillow had smashed a mirror.
There was a knock on the door. "Lara?" Jean's voice asked.
Silence. Lara, though, could hear erosion destroying the room walls, the garden trees growing and apples rotting in her backpack. All that Jean heard was silence. "Lara?"
Lara looked at the mirror pieces on the floor.
"Sleeping!" she yelled as hard as she could. Her own voice startled her. Her throat hurt and she sounded a bit hazy, but she was screaming.
Lara swore that she had such special ears she could hear Jean shrugging to himself.
Footsteps. Silence.
Lara got up from the floor.
'Come on, woman, you've made decisions like this before.'
'Yes, all the wrong ones,' ScepticLara answered.
With too much on her mind, Lara Croft fell asleep on her hotel bed.
One could say it was the monkeys. One could say it was fate. But none the richer, Lara woke up three hours later.
Shivering and sweaty, she ran to the bathroom, and drank from the faucet, ignoring all the guidebooks' warnings. She was certainly sick already, so what was the point of trying to avoid whatever lurked in the water?
She stumbled on her bag when returning to her bedroom. Feeling too tired to even move, she collapsed on the bed for some more minutes. Blaming stress and lack of sleep for her unclear, tired mind, she opened her eyes and swallowed some aspirins from the bedside table drawer. Bracing herself, she jumped out, as if testing her leg muscles for function.
'Good enough,' she assured herself, aware that she had fever.
Again.
'Hasn't stopped me before.' She thought, and looked out of the window. It was still pitch dark; the celebration was on full ahead in somewhere around the river.
Lara slipped out of her dress, and attacked her bag for a fresh pair of shorts. Rolling up the legs, she was feeling a little bit more humane.
One ultimate goal. One assignment. One true thing to do.
The shorts were followed by a light blue lycra top.
The same feeling as always. She lived for this. She was meant to do this. She was born to do this.
PathForger hiking boots, laced tightly on her tanned legs.
"The Angkorean Iris was given to the people of Funan by the God Harihara, it was said to give them peace, unbelievable prosperity and victory for a thousand years if it remained in Funan."
Lara quick-braided her hair, reciting the guidebook text like a poem. From a locked closet she pulled out her crossbow, her trusted pistol, and her 12 gauge shotgun.
How could she ever have doubted herself?
She clipped on her pistol holsters, coughing hard. Sweat had already formed steady circles on her top armpits. She felt like hell.
Coughing again and wiping her head with her palm, she ignored some droplets of blood that she had obviously coughed up.
The world wanted its Tomb Raider. And its Tomb Raider it was going to get.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 5
The next morning came for Lara as easily as any morning comes to one running a considerable fever. Dragging herself to the shover, she had her suspicions about the so-called flu she had caught, but thinking about the Iris made her almost forgot how awful she was feeling. No matter how hot she turned the water, she almost felt as if she was freezing. 'Must be the fever', Lara thought, as she opened the bathroom door and let the steam out into the fresh, flowery Siem Reap air. Her window had a view to the garden, and, draped in a towel, Lara sat down in front of the table and enjoyed the scene. A couple of monkeys were running in the garden and the hotel keepers' toddler-aged children were running around naked. One of them had a prosthetic leg and walking sticks, but it did not seem to slow the little girl down. As she noticed Lara, she smiled with her almost perfect teeth. Lara waved her hand to the little girl. The girl looked at her, and disappeared for a second. Then she appeared suddenly in front of Lara's window, her hand outstretched, holding a mango. Lara thanked her, gave the little girl her last Mars bar, and then wandered to the hotel corridor in her dressing robe. She knocked on Jean's door. Cursing her now ever-present headache, she waited for Jean to answer.
The door opened with a screech.
"Morning," Lara said, pulling the hem of her robe tighter. She marveled at Jean's room. Never had she seen a male student's room or flat as neat as Jean's.
"Morning," Jean replied, and continued buttoning up his shirt. "Listen, I've been thinking. I know you'd never even consider it, but for the record's sake, why don't we cancel the temple trip for today and go to the Lake?"
"Are you kidding?" Lara asked politely, leaning on the back of a chair.
"Judging by your reaction, probably," Jean sighed.
"Actually," Lara said, "I could use some more hours of sleep."
Jean-Yves stopped at his heels. This was not what he had been expecting from Lara Croft, who the day before had seemed like no matter what virus was colonizing her body, she would have gone and hunted the Iris, even if it meant piggybacking Jean-Yves to the goal.
"If you say so," Jean said, still surprised. "Was this what you came to tell me?"
"No, actually, I was just wandering," Lara said, and returned to her room to clean her guns.
After a good ten hours of sleep, Lara woke up. It felt like she spent more time waking up than hunting down the Iris. Or so it seemed - waking up had became very difficult. Letting go of the safe haze served fresh by her unconsciousness required throwing pillows around, taking a shower, and almost shooting herself in the leg when she accidentally unplugged the safety clip while placing her guns in their holsters.
This time, though, waking up did not seem like such a marathon. Lara felt excellent. She jumped out of the bed, checked her watch - too late for Angkor Wat. 'Oh well', she said to herself, 'time to freshen up things here a bit'. She dressed in heeled sandals, a spaghetti strap top, and a long, linen skirt, and went to knock on Jean's door.
It was unlocked, so Lara stepped in. Jean stood on his bed, surrounded by piles and piles of books, laserprints and copies of book pages. He raised his head and saw Lara.
"Evening, Miss Croft. What's the occasion?"
Lara pulled him up from the bed. "Tomorrow we're going to recover the Angkorean Iris. Tonight we're going to recover eleven drinks and a nang sbaek."
"A what?" Jean asked, already catching Lara's drift.
"A nang sbaek," Lara explained, forming a flower with her palms and pointing at the shadow casting on the wall, "is a shadow play."
And indeed they did. The play, its plot forming scenes of the Ramayana, a holy book for both the ancient and modern Cambodians, was a tasteful and charming event, and after it Lara and Jean moved to Prassat Sonr, a night club west of their hotel. Lara was in a surprisingly good mood, despite the fact that they had wasted one day. Both had three glasses of wine - both Lara and Jean thought in their silence that the other was well enough brought up not to get drunk. It was well over midnight when they started the moderately long walk back to Grand Hotel d'Angkor.
"You know Jean," Lara said, half-laughing as they were walking down Sivutha Street, "where would you be rather than here?"
"I don't think you need to be told this," Jean said, putting his arm around Lara's shoulders, "But I don't want to be anywhere but here."
"Do I have anything to do with that opinion?" Lara asked silently, all laugh gone from her voice.
"Maybe," Jean teased.
"Don Juan," Lara threw back, and quickened his pace. "I'll race you to the hotel!"
"You kidding? You'll stumble to your death in that skirt and heels."
"Remember the killers I had at your father's birthday gala," Lara asked, accentuating the word 'gala', "you know what I did with them?"
Jean laughed, suspecting a joke. "I wonder?"
"Let's say a certain river has had a good, leathery meal."
Jean half-laughed, knowing Lara was trying to make him guess. They were approaching the bridge across the Siem Reap river, and Lara sat down on a large rock near the bridge gates.
"Seine?"
"Bull's eye."
"You threw your shoes to the Seine?" Jean asked, amused, not knowing why.
Lara nodded, got up, and continued down the bridge.
"What about you? Where would you be rather than here?"
"Nowhere, Jean. Nowhere. You're way too good company. You know what I wonder sometimes?"
"Tell me," Jean replied, and Lara surprised him with a quick kiss. They continued down the bridge.
"I wonder when I'm going to grow up," she joked, and Jean kissed her back.
"What do you mean?" Jean asked.
"I wonder when I'm going to stop running around and begin wanting a family and a steady income in some ridiculous large corporation where promotions are handed on by the bustline rank."
"What's wrong with running around?" Jean asked the silent Cambodian night. They walked to the hotel in silence. Quietly, they walked through the lightless reception to the corridor. Lara waved her hand to Jean for a goodnight wish, but he grabbed her arm just as Lara was stepping in to her own room.
"Lara?" he asked with no hint whatsoever of humor in his tone.
"Yes?" she asked, tugging her skirt.
"Marry me."
Seconds later, Lara closed and locker her door. Feeling like a teenager running away from home, she double-checked the door lock and sat down on her bed.
'I can not believe what I just heard.'
Lara kicked off her sandals and fell on her back on the bed. Remembering her joke about growing up, she felt as if it had crept back behind her and bit her in the ankle. How could she feel both very taken and furious at once?
'How could he not understand?'
She sat up again - gazed at her surroundings in the dark room. The moon shone outside, and someone in Siem Reap was having a feast of some sort. The river carried voices and laughter from perhaps miles away.
A lonely fishing boat floated on the still waters of the Siem Reap river.
'How could he not understand a single point in what has happened to me?'
Lara picked up a pillow. It was peach-colored and embroidered - not a very soft pillow. She inspected it carefully.
'Did I tell him? Did I tell him about my father?'
He doesn't care, the EvilLara said.
You didn't tell him, AngelLara reminded.
Hating them both, Lara Croft threw the pillow in the air and sent it to the wall with a fierce kick.
She sat down on the floor.
Friends? Was this what happened always between friends who happened to be of the opposite sex? One falls in love, the other breaks havoc.
She loved Jean. Simply and modestly. Yet she loved also the Iris. Simply and modestly. She was ambitious. And young. She could do anything.
Buried too deep in her thoughts, she had not even noticed the sound of glass breaking as the pillow had smashed a mirror.
There was a knock on the door. "Lara?" Jean's voice asked.
Silence. Lara, though, could hear erosion destroying the room walls, the garden trees growing and apples rotting in her backpack. All that Jean heard was silence. "Lara?"
Lara looked at the mirror pieces on the floor.
"Sleeping!" she yelled as hard as she could. Her own voice startled her. Her throat hurt and she sounded a bit hazy, but she was screaming.
Lara swore that she had such special ears she could hear Jean shrugging to himself.
Footsteps. Silence.
Lara got up from the floor.
'Come on, woman, you've made decisions like this before.'
'Yes, all the wrong ones,' ScepticLara answered.
With too much on her mind, Lara Croft fell asleep on her hotel bed.
One could say it was the monkeys. One could say it was fate. But none the richer, Lara woke up three hours later.
Shivering and sweaty, she ran to the bathroom, and drank from the faucet, ignoring all the guidebooks' warnings. She was certainly sick already, so what was the point of trying to avoid whatever lurked in the water?
She stumbled on her bag when returning to her bedroom. Feeling too tired to even move, she collapsed on the bed for some more minutes. Blaming stress and lack of sleep for her unclear, tired mind, she opened her eyes and swallowed some aspirins from the bedside table drawer. Bracing herself, she jumped out, as if testing her leg muscles for function.
'Good enough,' she assured herself, aware that she had fever.
Again.
'Hasn't stopped me before.' She thought, and looked out of the window. It was still pitch dark; the celebration was on full ahead in somewhere around the river.
Lara slipped out of her dress, and attacked her bag for a fresh pair of shorts. Rolling up the legs, she was feeling a little bit more humane.
One ultimate goal. One assignment. One true thing to do.
The shorts were followed by a light blue lycra top.
The same feeling as always. She lived for this. She was meant to do this. She was born to do this.
PathForger hiking boots, laced tightly on her tanned legs.
"The Angkorean Iris was given to the people of Funan by the God Harihara, it was said to give them peace, unbelievable prosperity and victory for a thousand years if it remained in Funan."
Lara quick-braided her hair, reciting the guidebook text like a poem. From a locked closet she pulled out her crossbow, her trusted pistol, and her 12 gauge shotgun.
How could she ever have doubted herself?
She clipped on her pistol holsters, coughing hard. Sweat had already formed steady circles on her top armpits. She felt like hell.
Coughing again and wiping her head with her palm, she ignored some droplets of blood that she had obviously coughed up.
The world wanted its Tomb Raider. And its Tomb Raider it was going to get.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi