What the Voices Say
What the Voices Say
Chapt Whatever-Cause-I-forgot, Cold Rooms
I'm blushing now, cause the photographer I used as Sophia/Tara's fave was the one who photographed that Cyrus chick in the buff (or practically so). It's funny, or so I think.
About the actual story: Artemis is a bit of an overractor and Drama Queen in this. Throughout the books I've noticed his flare from the dramatics. I pumped it up a little too much, I know. But I like it. I credit his oddness to a late puberty and dysfunctional first relationship and a lack of parental advice. He really doesn't know how to act, blows stuff out of proportion when it involves her dislikes or discomforts, and tends to act on his theories alone. But does his best to listen to her, Butler and Juliet's advice.
Make of it what you will.
DISCLAIMER: Arty isn't mine, but Tara/Sophia and Sasha are.
My thanks to My Beta, M y r k K o h l and mizz-shy-gurl, the lovely Scot who gave me the info on British/Scottish cleaning supplies. I thank you so much, you were the only one who responded, Mizz. You rock, may you have many cookies. I dedicate this chapter to you. Or the next one, cause it rocks more.
Oh, yeah, sorry this is late.
Whatever. Review.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Artemis was busy.
Tara couldn't visit 'Sarah'. Juliet; who had hit it off with Tara right off, becoming a close girl friend already, was with Mrs. Fowl shopping or something. There were no books, TV shows, musical CDs, or canvases that could distract her. Tara wanted to do something.
Be active.
Learn something.
Tara sat in the chaise lounge, soaking up the sunlight coming from the French doors behind her. A cold cup of coffee sat on the side table, long untouched, as was the bowl of fruit and croissant. The boredom was eating at her. Meditation wasn't working, nor was reading. It was 10:23 am and Artemis had left some hours earlier, kissing her on the cheek and muttering an apology.
"A meeting, love." He'd explained. "One of my investors has a few questions." The young man rolled his eyes, implying that the questions themselves would most likely be stupid, much like their inquirer. Hopefully this meeting wouldn't eat away all of his tolerance by day's end. On workdays Artemis tended to be a little testy, causing more than a few spats between the two.
Tara only sighed and hugged him as he left. She had known living at Fowl Manor wouldn't be all glamour and shine, after all; Artemis did have a company to run, but she still missed having him around. Loneliness was at her doorstep often, and she didn't like it as a companion. While Sophia had never been an extrovert, she did like to keep close company. As the sisters had never been able to keep any close friends, they resorted to each other. Contacting too often would cause questions she didn't want to answer.
Now she sat, stretched out (still in her pajamas), wondering. He had said she could go anywhere in the Manor. The short tour she had weeks ago hadn't stopped in every room, and she had an undeterminable amount of free time…
"Well, why not?" It might be useful to know the layout, god knows she'd been too lazy lately to explore anyhow. Really, it should have been the first thing she'd done. "Papa would have been ashamed."
She hopped up, skipped to the closet and began rummaging. The closet was huge, but luckily Juliet was there to help organize it into sections based on occasion, type, and colour. Tara had been thankful for the help, she was appreciative of the organization, but then mixed the colours back up again. She had never really been one to go by the colour-coordination rule. In the end, however she was no longer lost on what to wear from day to day.
She dressed quickly, selecting a dark washed boot cut pair of jeans, a cricket jersey, and strappy sandals that she knew wouldn't kill her feet, but still maintain the style aspect. Looking at the clock, Tara ran to the bathroom. She brushed her hair, washed her face, and applied lip gloss. She grabbed a penlight and flew out the doors, ready to begin snooping.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
For an hour she wandered aimlessly until she found the library. That, for Tara, was almost the best thing that had happened in the last 9 months. The next two hours were spent, not reading, but checking the stock. The palace of books had anything she had ever want to read and a lot of things she hadn't. Thousands upon thousand of book in manuscripts, CDs, files, and thumb drives. There were no paperbacks, even if the original was printed only in soft cover. The Fowls paid for (and got) long-lasting quality.
Taking a quick reference took forever for Sophia, even when she was looking through her small amounts personal favorites. She just became so caught up in the books themselves; reading the covers, examining the art, the conditions of the book, copyright date, author information, et cetera.
After nearly two hours spent at the library, (fast for her), she moved down to check out the lower parts of the house, the ground floor, and the cellars. The cellars had really been a mistake. Tara had stumbled into them by accident while opening every door in a particular hallway. When she found the medieval looking stone stairway leading down, curiosity won and she followed it, grateful for the penlight that she kept with her at all times.
It turned out that the penlight wasn't needed. The Fowl cellars had modern lighting, though Tara saw it as a bit of a waste seeing as the only thing down there was wine and fine liquor. A lot of it. Barrels, bottles, and cabinets full. It's old stuff, as well. Tara observed. Either the Fowls enjoyed matured alcoholic beverages, or the family had really been around a long time.
While she snuck around, Tara came upon a curious discovery; a solid metal door (of what kind she wasn't bothering to check) held by two concrete walls. The rest of the walls in the cellars were of stone, centuries old, but this section stuck out, forming a cube in a corner of the room…as if someone had built a room their to their fancy. Remembering a conversation with Sasha the week before, a scolding for not sneaking around enough, Sophia eyed the door. What could be behind it? Was it Artemis'? Was it something secret? If it was, then why hide it in plain sight? True, it was in the basement, a place most guests wouldn't have a chance to explore, but still. His parents had easy access, and they were not involved in his or her plans. Shrugging, she tried the door. It was unlocked.
Sophia stepped inside. There was nothing, save an old army cot. The floor was covered in dust and rubble. Judging from the state of the cot, which had many dents and scratches across its surface, it was the tool used to create the litter. A tiny hole, revealing the dirt of the outside world, was in a corner. It was apparent that the hole had been made shortly after the room had been, and the room itself abandoned not long after the hole had been created. The form of the concrete… the dust…it was all evidence. Somebody had gone to the trouble of making a sturdy, close to impenetrable room, tore it up a bit, though hardly, and then left it untouched for years. A decade, maybe less.
"What have you been doing, Artemis?"
She was prepared to exit the perplexing room when an object caught her eye. A black rectangular object huddled in one corner of the cell, maybe an inch and a half thick and eight inches across. Checking to see that no one had entered the cellars, she tentatively made her way across the room, careful where she walked. Nothing blew up, no alarms sounded. Glancing around again, she stooped to pick it up.
It was a book, perhaps a diary, by the looks of it. Did it belong to one of the Butlers? Tara stifled a laugh. It was quite the mental image.
She almost opened it, but a creaking sound made her start. Someone was coming down the stairs, and she did not want to be caught here. In five seconds she had left the room and had created the illusion of browsing some casks of wine casually.
Artemis skipped into the cellar, whistling Bach. He had been in an oddly cheerful mood lately, though only displayed it around her. It was scary, really. Tara repressed a shudder. Maybe that was his intent. To bother the hell out of her in return for her own annoying habits.
He placed an arm lightly around her waist, kissing her gently. "Want to have lunch with me? We could have some of that." He nodded to a barrel with red liquid dated older than their ages combined.
"Maybe tonight. I don't drink midday. How'd the meeting go?"
He shrugged, leading her up the stairs. "Dull. You know, stubborn idiots looking to earn their millions, adding more pollution to our atmosphere by merely breathing. Someone called about my enviro car, complaining about colours. Then the developments on the methane cow pills," he rolled his eyes, "it won't go on the market for another five months. We'll be giving up beef until then."
"I can handle that." She grinned. "Can we use tofu instead?"
"Ah, no." Artemis shuddered. "We'll live on chicken."
They continued chatting, mostly about his work, recent scientific news and the idiots he had spoken with that morning, which was always a fun topic. It reminded Sophia of bad-mouthing actors with Sasha on Saturday mornings while watching the latest on pay-per-view, something thing they did instead of watching cartoons. Only with Artemis it was with larger words, and over less beautiful people.
"How about you?" Artemis asked. "Starting anything?"
"Well, I haven't anywhere to work! I would in my room, but I'm worried about messing it up. Very dirty work, you know, painting. I hate to ask, but are there any spare rooms…?"
Artemis leaned back, considering. He had known she didn't have a studio when he designed her room, and had planned to cross that bridge when it appeared, which it now had. There were a few options. The cellars, the attic gallery, or perhaps a guest room, all of which would mean more construction. He weighed the pros and cons. The cellars wouldn't work, too dark and no windows. The guest room would take time, and Tara would want to work as soon as she possibly could. As for the unfinished gallery…it would be the best choice. It was large, had lots of windows, and was constantly bathed in light. She could even design and decorate it herself. Yes, it was the perfect space. He needed to be rid of it anyhow, why not let Tara put it to use?
Tara popped a green from her salad into her mouth. "Are you listening to me?" she asked, not perturbed, just curious. Artemis usually had a very good reason for ignoring her prattling on. A new idea, or solution. Important things. She wasn't offended, just interested.
Artemis looked up. "Yes. Yes, of course. Painting is a bit messy…"
Tara smirked. "Arty, love, I said that 5 minutes ago. I was discussing renting a studio in the city. I mean, I can afford it, and it'd give you some space. Really you should be sick of me by now. And without having to pay utilities here, I've got cash to spare."
"No! I'm not sick of you, really. I think we might have space for you to adapt. "
"Adapt?" Tara inquired. "As in…?"
"Finish." Artemis ran a hand through his hair, another thing he did more often. Juliet confided in her that she thought it wasn't that he was frustrated, rather nervous. Odd, yes, but has he ever played by the rules of body language? Most people messed with their hair in anger, or annoyance, but not Artemis. "It was started and left off a few years ago." He said vaguely.
"Like, how many years ago?" Tara's eyes narrowed.
"Maybe a decade or so."
Tara looked horrified. "Ten years of dust?"
"No, no, it's been cleaned, often, just still under construction. It's not that bad really."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
"Do you want to see it?"
"Why not?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The staircase leading to the attic wasn't often used. It wasn't dusty, thanks to Juliet's careful eye, just a bit too preserved. No worn wood, scraped finish, or mushed carpet.
"Is there anything else up here?" Tara asked.
"On the other side of the wall there's the Hall." Artemis replied, referring to the maze of hallways that made up the family art gallery. "It used to be one long room, no drywall, insulation, just brick on the sides that also made up the outer wall. It was spilt in half, one side for the gallery, the other studio. Shortly before father left we started working on construction."
Tara nodded, looking around the upward tunnel. Hand crafted tapestries, old ones by the look of them, hung, faded and sad. They looked Medieval, made by one of the Fowl women back in the day, possibly. What are they worth? Artemis made a coughing sound. From the slant of the stairs they were nearly there.
Nothing but a transparent plastic tarp covered the doorway. Only blurry images and colours could be seen through it. Not that there was much to see anyhow. Artemis looked at her expectantly. Tentatively, she stepped forward to push the plastic aside. She slid carefully into the bright room, but Artemis caught her arm before she could get far. "Careful." He said indicating the slope.
The floor was about a foot deep from where the doorway was. A ledge went around the perimeter of the room, about a foot and four inches wide. Perfect for putting canvases or framed posters on without damage to the wall. "Was it like this, or did you commission it?"
"It was part of the original plans."
The room itself was long and a little dusty from neglect. There were only a few pieces of drywall covering the skeletal wood and wires. The floor was made of rough, beaten wood with nicks and scratches everywhere, giving it character in a real sense. It was more than big enough to be two rooms; entertainment and studio, perhaps. Tara thought it quite lovely, though the look on Artemis' face spoke otherwise.
She crossed carefully to the other wall, brick with four graceful arch windows hung. They were pitted, old pieces of glass, with air bubbles suspended forever holding the air from whatever era it came from, and thinner at the top than the bottom. She smiled, recalling the recent paper on glass she had read. It was written by one of her old tutors, detailing an experiment that proved glass was a liquid. A slow one, mind you, but liquid none the less. Her tutor had done test on glass centuries old, noting that the bottom was unusually thicker than the top. He attributed this to gravity, pulling the liquid down. She had figured this years ago, but hadn't thought anyone would believe a child.
Artemis hung back, watching her explore the architecture of the room. He knew it had great potential, but was still going to be a hell of a task, if she did take it. It seemed that the windows had really caught her interest. That was what he was hoping caught her, seeing they were all the original glass and frames, made twenty years after the house had been built.
When she looked up, she saw the rafters, high beams of golden wood. Clean, with no dust, nests, or birds in sight. These she would keep. There was no point in hiding beauty with a plain white ceiling. Maybe she could even install speakers and white crystal Christmas lights. They really opened the room, giving in an airy feel. There were so many possibilities stuffed into the room.
"I'll need supplies. She turned around to face Artemis. "Lots of cleaning chemicals, organic, if you can get them, and drywall. Maybe some lumber to make a divider. "
Artemis nodded. "Do you want a copy of the blue prints and out original refurbishing plan? Or contact with the construction staff leader, he might have some warnings."
"That'd be great. It's perfect. I can personalize it more this way. Thank you."
"Butler and Juliet can help." He reminded her. "If you so wish, we could hire a team to do the heavier stuff."
She nodded. "Now that's in order: how much?"
"Well, your budget is nearly endless, and we have most of the tools you'll need, though you might rent a few, and as long as it's in reason you can go all out."
"No. "Tara said impatiently. " How much do I need to pitch in?"
Artemis blinked. "Nothing."
"But I want to."
"No, you're finishing the room. We'll pay for it all--no problem."
"I'll be-" she protested.
"The work and design will be more than enough. I mean, normally it would be twice as much with a private designer and construction team. You'll be outing it to good use, rather than just sitting there. You will save us money. It's free. Take it."
Tara just sighed, knowing it would be stupid too risk another fight. It would be helpful to her, and a service to him. Maybe she would fight when he started buy her jewels for the Opera, but not today. "Pick your battles" something her mother had said on the subject of marriage, and all other forms of relationships. Knowing how he could be such a drama queen over small things she gave in, not wanting another weekend of chaos.
"Alright." She said grudgingly.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The first thing she had to do was clean. Normally it would be planning, but she needed to get an idea of how it looked as a clean slate before she drew on it. Or rather, the blue print copies. Actual walls would help too. And a floor.
So she searched for Butler, begging for cleaning supplies. He reluctantly led her to a huge stock closet of clean materials. Grabbing the Mr. Sheen and Dettol along with brooms, mops, buckets and paper towels, she fled, spending the rest of the evening scrubbing floors. When told where his girlfriend was, Artemis snuck up to the attic, peering in to see her in old jeans, bandanna in her hair, singing along to a medley of Billy Joel, Charlotte Church, and Paul McCartney. He knew she had more of a physical work ethic than he ever had, but it still surprised him that was so willingly allowed herself sore knees and chapped hands.
The next week, he hardly saw her save for dinner and bedtime seeing as she was always cleaning or planning with paint chips and counter colours spread before her in a neat circle.
She didn't offer updates too often and he didn't ask. If Tara want his help in colour contrast she would ask, but that hardly happened. Artemis was surprised to find himself lonely. It was unlike him to miss company, but lately he had begun to seek Butler out, or snuck up to watch Tara quietly from the doorway (she never heard him, for the CD player was always blaring out something. God knows what, but something). It unnerved him that he had become so dependent on human companionship, her companionship. It almost made him feel weak.
No matter. He had other business to attend to.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
You better beg for the next chapter, cause it is a big one!! 20 pages on paper, plus the extra five from my add-ins from typing. Two times the normal post. Not only is it long, but very important to the plot. After the next three, thing will be spicing up a lot, and not in the romance department. Now that classes are out, expect more regular updates.
I am truely sorry this took so long. But this next chapter will more than make uo for it, I swear.
Review, please!
Dania