Delusional
The Adventures of miriam dushku
© K.l. young 2004

This once again is a short story about two of my characters from my book - I tend to write stories, so I can, so to speak, "get into their heads". This particular story is about the difficult relationship between, Miriam (before she was a Realm Guide) and her Mentor Atticus. Please read and review on the characters. Thanks.

She stood on top of the platform, her hands clasped in front of her. Miriam let her eyes roam over the rolling landscape below her; the sheet of emerald that stretched out into the distance, stopping abruptly at the city of He'kerdias, hiding most of Axarra Hall, it's beautiful dome like roof penetrated the skyline behind the towering trees.

"Miriam, are you listening to me?" His voice interrupted her thoughts; somewhat annoyed by his untimely intrusion, she chose to ignore him, and one again resumed to letting her eyes take in the swooping cliff that she stood upon.

Of course, she knew she was annoying him; her kind, but firm Mentor - her trainer, her teacher, her friend - her make believe lover. She silently cursed herself for ever choosing to become a Realm Guide, and she knew that at the moment in time she was acting like a child; stubborn, playful, un- cooperative.but then again, that was just her.

He grew quiet, and she knew, instinctively, that he was standing only meters away from her; his arms folded across his chest, looking at her with the beautiful, patient, green eyes of his. She exhaled - then inhaled deeply, and just as she chose to turn around and face him, she decided against it. Yes, annoying him was so much fun.

"Mi-riam." He drawled, with his beautiful French accent, that caressed the syllables of her name so softly; making her like her horrid name, if only for a second.

She wondered what effect he had had on women on his native earth all those hundreds of years ago - before he became a resident to the high Realm Allagarra, where the Arricans, such as herself dwelled. Had he been a Casanova when he was a mortal? Had he uttered every woman's name in that way that could make their hearts flutter with desire?

Still, she did not reply to him, but drew him a secret smile.

"The lesson ends soon, you have yet to learn the technique of meditation -- ."

"I can assure you, I do not have the concentration span for meditation."

He sighed, and walked closer to where she stood. "Well, you will just have to expand your concentration span, won't you?"

Miriam huffed, and suppressed a laugh.

"Why are you being so difficult Miriam?"

This time she turned to him, her large brown eyes narrowing, the dark depths glittering with amusement. She arched a beautifully curved eyebrow. "Why be difficult, when, with a little effort, you can be impossible?"

Atticus smiled at her; it accentuated his strong jaw line, and made his emerald green eyes glimmer with the intensity of the sun. She looked at him, in suppressed awe, letting her eyes graze over his striking features; the dark coloured hair that swept down to his chin in an array of cinnamon streaked curls. His face fell serious, and she couldn't help but admire his beautiful nubbin of flesh what was his mouth.

He walked, slowly and elegantly - with his hands clasped to his front - like a jungle cat. Atticus stood beside her, and looked out over the view of the platform that they stood on. Mideera heights was always beautiful when the sun beat upon it with it's golden haze. The cliff top that they stood on had been renovated hundreds of years ago; the ancients had built a beautiful white marble platform, incorporating winding stairs and high roman like pillars. Mideera heights was erected for one prominent purpose - so the Mentors could take their pupils to a place that would help evoke a peaceful atmosphere, away from distractions; a place to meditate and tutor. It was one of Atticus's favourite spots; but not one of Miriam's.

That was more than likely the reason she stood so quietly at the edge of the platform, her long black raven hair caught by the playful hands of the wind - her determined dark brown eyes staring into the distance, not wanting to catch his soft glance.

She shivered a little, knowing that his eyes were on her; probing her with an extreme intensity. God, how she adored his eyes..they had the unnerving ability to see the soul; to strip someone naked with just one look.

"Stop it." She commanded her Mentor.

A small smile of amusement played on his lips. "Stop what, Mi-riam?"

"Stop your annoying probing."

"I do not need to probe, your emotions are etched on your face like an open book. I can read what you are thinking easily." He stated as a matter of fact; knowing fine well what buttons to push when it came to her. After all, she was his pupil, he was meant to know the very workings of her mind.

She turned to face him, her large brown eyes turning as cold as the wind; her face pausing in an unemotional look. If there was anything she detested, it was people trying to pry into her in mind.

Bloody fool. I'll play you at your own game.

"You are delusional."

His eyes grew serious; turning from emerald to the dark murky green of the forest. She smiled inwardly, knowing fine well that she was the only person that could read his eyes; the changeable colours that gave away so much of what his face and kind actions did not.

"No." Atticus stated, his eyes probing her once again. "You are the one who is delusional, Miriam."

Instantly she caught what he was saying; and before she could stop it, a look of pure and utter hurt registered in her eyes. Miriam felt her heart pang in agony, knowing that he had read her desire and feelings for him; she felt a strange mixture of anger and embarrassment.

He sensed that what he had said had struck her hard, and instantly wanted to reach out and embrace her; making the pain fade away. But he would not - he could not - and so, he said routed in the same spot, his face unchangeable, not cold, nor angry - just distant.

He could not sacrum to his mortal whims - The Arrican beings were the product of the union of Angels and Humans. Their ancestors; the great Arch Angel Michael - and Angel Saphiel and Gabriel - had fallen in love with the three mortal white witches of the coven "The White rose". All Arrican beings were direct decedents of this union, and had lived in the Realm of Allagarra for Millions of years, since the beings had been separated into different realms. Most Arricans were in touch with their mortal heritance; most embraced their human characteristics - but Atticus did not. He had banished all of his mortal desires - which had indeed been stronger, and he was the product of the Union of an Arrican man and a Mortal Woman; but that was as much as she knew about his past. All that she knew now was that he meditated everyday, and deliberately quelled his mortal side, only keeping in touch with the Angel side of his heritence.

Miriam, being her straight-forward, and rebellious self had often question him. Indeed her questions were not subtle, and directed at him with force and authority; to which he was simply smile, and state that his past was his, and his only. This of course annoyed her; even angered her.

But that was nothing compared to the complete and utter hatred she was feeling towards him at that moment. Yes, she would not show him her usual anger; she would curve it, just like he did.

He watched her eyes change from pain and anger, into large brown orbs of coldness - no emotions surfaced - her eyes were the direct reflection of what her face had become. Emotionless; suspended in time.

"If you examine yourself closer, Atticus, I would think you would find that you are indeed the delusional one." Her voice was level, and still retained that beautiful huskiness. "But, of course, you are too weak to delve into you mind - afraid of your human emotions; afraid of what you might find lurking that would shatter your Angelic façade." She paused and gave him a cold smile. "You are delusional to think that your mortal side can be quelled - you are weak, and that is your undeniable weakness. I, on the other hand, am not delusional - as, although I have feelings for you - which I suspect you have derived - I am not stupid enough to think, that for one second, anything could happen between us, and do you know why?" She asked, dropping her voice to a threatening whisper. She leaned in closer to him, relishing the look of shock in his eyes. "For you are not man enough for me. I detest the weak."

Miriam stood for a couple of seconds, gauging his emotions from his eyes. Once she was happy with what she saw, she gave him a quick smile, and turned on her heel quickly - the long purple gown she wore made a swooshing noise as she made her way down the marble spiral staircase, leaving Atticus, still standing in the same spot.

He watched her descend down the stairway, his eyes never leaving her retreating figure. He admired her fierce personality; she was so unlike the rest of her kind - she was stubborn, rebellious, straight-forward, sarcastic, curt - and yet so completely and utterly alluring. She exuded strength; he saw it in every glance from her mischievous eyes, with their deviously arched eyebrows and her full stubborn mouth, that could whisper words so sweet, but could also taunt and tease.

Atticus shook his head; mentally regaining his equilibrium. This would do no good; he was her Mentor, her teacher - the one who would bestow upon her wise words and knowledge; the one who would lead her into her path as a Realm Guide. God knows she reeked of potential, that was why he dropped all of his other students, so he could spend most of his time with her.trainer her, teacher her.making her would she was meant to be.

The more time he spent with her though; the more his feelings tormented him.

No. This would not happen. He had spent so many years in meditation, riding himself of his human desires and needs; tuning into his angelic calling. It angered him a little, that this woman.this strong, independent, stubborn, beautiful, sarcastic, un-cooperative woman - could just waltz into his life and flip everything upside down. With one strong look, and one taunting word.

She would not win.

Atticus slowly made his way from the platform, and descended the stairs that Miriam had so recently strode down. His steps were graceful and catlike; calm and peaceful - he had equired his equalibriam - she would not tare it down.

And yet - he had to be cautious. And so, he made his way to the meditation planes; to rid his strange feelings of her, once and for all.