The Disgraced Lord
Artemis was not difficult to find, he was where he always was, sitting under the wide awning that covered his table and chair in the Garden. Of course the term his may be a misnomer as that implies his procession of it however it was more or less his own in the minds of most due to the substantial amount of time he spent in it. He was, as was his custom, simply sitting there, a small tape recorder on the table and his eyes glancing lightly through the rife of paper that he held in his hand with a fountain pen in the other. He made small notes on several sheets as he read quietly and contently to himself yet this was not a forgone notion as normally he would think aloud to himself or anyone that would listen but to the contrast of custom.
His silence could easily be attributed to several things each more varied than the last and spanning everything from his skipping breakfast to the abnormally dark circles under his eyes form lack of sleep or due to his slightly irritated brow that while relaxed and subversive now had for the most part of the morning been furrowed in frustration at something. Whatever the reason for his silence it remained as he continued to quietly read over his pages, forcing concentration on the material in his hand. This was not he favourite activity, rather to the contrary this was his least, he always loathed reading over the editors manuscript of his works.
The pages were all neatly stacked and bound simply with six through ties of brass, a classic manuscript, the pages in a small courier type seemingly spaced to be devoid of all emotion, he always hated these manuscripts but that was the publishing world, it lacked the intricate nuances that the work itself exposed to the world in its painfully industrious efficiency. Thankfully his contract permitted him some choice on the final products font and spacing, he’d have to determine that before the final draft was due.
“Damn.” He cursed as he took the pen’s cap from his mouth and made several marks on a page near the rear quarter of the manuscript, “I like that dialogue… I don’t care if it’s grammatically incorrect… editors.” He mentally made note to ensure that he got the chance to talk with his editor again, the first time he was being scouted for publishing the editor had read several of his more grammatically sparse dialogue exchanges with a sneer and made a point to chastise Artemis for them.
”Have you even been through middle school kid?” the man had asked, forcing Artemis to stifle a frown and several memories, the short answer was no of course.
“Well uh… I was just taking a, umm… a literary license.” Artemis had explained with more than one nervous gesture.
The elder woman glanced up over the brims of her reading glasses causing Artemis to gulp at the time due to her rather imposing nature, “Hemingway had a literary license… you’ve got a learners permit.” That was her most memorable rebuttal that caused him to smile even now.
“Wonder if I’ve graduated yet?” he muttered aloud, of course one would hear it, that one being Fleet, who had just arrived to inform Artemis of a meeting in the Courtyard. Unfortunately the gust of air caused Artemis to leave a streak across his notations before the air blew the page he was on away making him lose his place. However, rather than get frustrated he breathed out and nodded to allow the very dedicated Guardian to move on, Artemis knowing he wouldn’t until he was sure that he had been heard. “Got it, be there in a few moments.” With a smile cast to the man before he left Artemis managed to keep up the façade long enough for no one to see the furrowing of his brow as he looked at the manuscript. He’d intended to finish proofreading it that evening so as to afford a day to himself tomorrow, though with this interruption he highly doubted that would still be possible.
Artemis arrived in his typical garb of levis lean cut jeans (dark wash, matching belt shoes, a button down white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a simple brown vest to match his black shoes. After arriving a few moments following Aaron and the others he moved gently through the aft grouping of charges to settle nearest his preferred Guardian, Simon. He smiled and greeted a few without making a scene before moving to stand near the back closer to the other Guardians, more specifically he leaned against a nearby tree adjacent to Simon. He caught the exchange, something those who were less adjusted to the Isle might miss, and his brow furrowed yet again. However Artemis was no fool, far from it, and knew not to question it, not here, not now. Yet as the head of the island made such theatrics he had to wonder if it was at all necessary to be so flamboyant for a story. Even for an Omarian? “Insert ironic joke here.” He muttered to himself as he thought of the catch twenty two of an author judging flamboyant storytelling. He couldn't help but blink several times as her power washed over him, he hated the fact that it clouded his rampant thoughts, but he relaxed knowing the futility of resistance and just let the stroy begin.