Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Day Nineteen: Transformation (12th of August)


Artemis Fowl the second had gone through quite the transformation over the past decade or so. No longer had he acquainted himself with respected criminal organizations and somewhat maniac CFOs for the sole purpose of everlasting gold. On the contrary, Artemis felt he needn’t trouble himself with those insane enough to actually strike a deal with him. He was far too busy silently plotting ways to save the earth, and his days of robbing it from its valuables were now long behind him (this being a major drastic change from his early years).

 Artemis had to admit that nowadays he was quite the relaxed man- a relaxed work-o-holic, that is. He was going to marry the love of his life and live out a semi-normal existence. However, his criminal days weren’t completely over, but instead they were used purely for the greater good, something Myles could and would not comprehend for the life of him.

It was a rather chilly day when Artemis was to be confronted, but Myles didn’t allow this mere difficulty to mar his desires to have his sibling over for a brotherly visit...

Artemis sat comfortably on his chair, his gaze never wavering from Myles’. It was cool and collected, opposing that of his brother’s, which burned with grating irritation. Artemis allowed a small smile to stretch his normally resigned face, and he drummed his chin with his middle and index fingers to set 
Myles off course. You’re not going to win, you know.

Myles scoffed, staring back into his brother’s eyes with a sort of defiance that vaguely resembled that of the demi-god Loki’s. “Yes.I.can,” he mumbled quietly, his left eye slightly twitching. Artemis arched a dark eyebrow, amused at his brother’s struggling (and unsuccessful) efforts at over coming Artemis in his very own game.

“Myles, you’re acting ridiculous.”

“No I’m not,” Myles replied calmly, running a hand through his slightly mused dark hair. He then sighed, looking warily at Artemis. “Two weeks ago, during father’s celebration, you’ve entered my lab and played with things I’ve told you time and time again not to play with,” he began sharply, reclining on his chair a bit.

Artemis’ already arched eyebrow rose a fraction higher, willing his brother to continue. “Somehow, you’ve gotten hold on the godiva chocolate truffles –Artemis’ eyes widened in innocent shock-, which were tactfully hidden under the foot of my desk. Need I say more?”

Artemis’ smirk widened, but he said nothing. Myles sniffed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to sustain himself long enough to complete what he had stared. “Two weeks ago, a fortnight, if you will, you’ve attempted to drug the chocolate, and have succeeded. Do you have anything to add to this?”

Artemis slightly tilted his head to the side, appearing to look thoughtful. “I have one question,” he said finally, crossing his legs. Myles stared expectedly at him, waiting for him to continue. “It’s been two weeks, a fortnight if you will –Myles scowled at this- and you’ve only just discovered this now?”

Myles let out a low groan. Getting up, he pointed a manicured finger at the door. “Out.”
Artemis grinned, his eyes sparkling (which seemed to unnerve Myles to absolute no end) and shook his head. “You know precisely why I’ve done it.”

“That doesn’t help your case at all, Artemis. In all honesty I could be telling mother all about this little incident, and then you wouldn’t have that blasted smile on your face.”

Artemis raised both his eyebrows, glancing momentarily at his brother before shifting his gaze to one of the beakers on Myles’ table. “Oh really? And how, dear brother, are you going to do that?”
Myles shrugged casually, carefully avoiding his brother’s gaze. “That’s for me to know and for you to figure out.”

Artemis snorted, shaking his head. “Really, Myles? I’ve already disabled your computer’s microphone...” Myles seemed unfazed by this, and had the nerve to pick out nonexistent lint from his designer suit. “...Which struck me as useless... so your screens are dysfunctional as well...” he continued, waiting for a reaction. Myles yawned, elegantly covering his mouth. Artemis sighed, barely containing his growing annoyance at his brother’s lopsided smile. “...Which is why that beaker to your right is about to detonate in about... three... two...”

Myles whipped his head towards the beaker, his face looking purely startled and unguarded. Covering his head with two shaking hands, Myles lunged behind his desk, waiting for the boom to course through his lab (this was surely going to disturb his lab partner from his routinely afternoon nap).

He glued his eyes shut, waiting for the explosion to ensue. All was silent for a few seconds, and Myles was growing doubtful. He raised a cautious head, peering at his lab through emergency goggles that he had stashed earlier under his desk. His eyes widened.

Where was Artemis?

Myles felt a sharp hand slap the back of his head, and he slowly turned around, dazed.

He grunted, half annoyed at his brother, who was folding his arms in victory, half annoyed at himself for falling for such an elementary prank.

“You idiot,” Artemis mused, thoroughly enjoying himself. He lent a helpful hand at his deranged brother, who growled, swatting it away. “Oh come now, Myles. Be a good sport for once in your life and forget about the truffle incident. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for me then the night between you and Emily would have never had happened, and you would have been sitting here day dreaming about her like an overly hormonal poet, writing silly ballads about her... hands.”

“Her hands,” repeated Myles dryly, pushing himself off the ground. Artemis shrugged, making his way towards the door. “Maggie doesn’t like her,” he said for no apparent reason. Myles rolled his eyes at this. “Maggie doesn’t like anybody she doesn’t know.”

“Very true, but Emily’s reputation has been rather disappointing lately, don’t you agree?”
Myles said nothing, and instead removed his goggles, wiping the lenses with a piece of silk he retrieved from the corner of his desk.  

“Myles-“

“Stop talking about her,” he snapped, surprising himself at this sudden outburst.

It had been two weeks since he had last spoken with her. It wasn’t pleasant at first, far from it, in fact, but now it resided to being a dull ache throbbing constantly in his stomach, especially whenever anyone mentioned her name.

She’s hardly ever fair to begin with, he had reasoned with himself time and time again. And she certainly shouldn’t be occupying his mind like this. He needed to get over this phase of his life and move on.

He needed to move forward, and it was high time he started.

- left-foot-fowl
___________________________________________________________________________

It's edited- obviously. Blegh I should really start organizing my sleeping hours.. this is getting a bit annoying. 

No comments:

Post a Comment