(Untitled)

[artfowler]

There are many doors in Fowl Manor. Artemis Fowl the Second, of course, has known of this for a very long time and not even the hidden doors, and there were many of those as well, manage to surprise him.

In fact, he knew the two hundred acre estate quite well. It would be a silly thing not to know the grounds that you lived on, after all. But

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[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy has a favorite table, near the Observation Window. When he first arrived here, he liked it because he could turn his back on the unsettling window and catch no glimpse of it, but he is an old hand, by now; he looks at the end of the universe and he sees only its beauty.

He is sitting at that table now, Bible at hand along with a notepad, and though he is intent on homily-writing, he does glance up from time to time.

One of those times, he catches sight of the boy standing in front of the window.

"Unique, isn't it?" he asks.

[artfowler]

"Fascinating," Artemis agrees with the man, a slight nod of his head accompanying the verbal assessment. One can clearly tell that boy is Irish; his accent, for those that have heard it before, is unmistakable when he speaks.

"I cannot think of a sight that compares to it," he continues, turning to the man. His gaze dances across the Bible and the notepad that the man has with the utmost discretion behind his mirrored sunglasses, his expression remaining blank.

[cheerychaplain]

Mulcahy--wearing Army green with a black shirt, a priest's collar, and a cross--smiles immediately at the accent, some of his (slightly) harried manner dropping away. "Neither can I, I'm afraid. Are you from the old country?"

The priest's accent, for the record, is straight-up generic American. But you don't often get a name like Francis John Patrick Mulcahy by having Russian ancestry, that's for sure.

[OOC: No problem! I'll probably be slow, too!]

[artfowler]

Artemis smoothes down his suit - an Italian one, today - and takes a tentative step closer to Mulchaly's table. All the while, he takes in the clothing, attitude, and accent of the man, none of which seems to be a sham.

Curious.

"From Ireland, born and raised," Artemis divulges, answering the priest's question. There was no use in hiding the obvious, after all. "A bit far from home. But I imagine we all are."

He glances toward the window again, inwardly frowning. He's not quite sure how he ended up here, but he doesn't seem to be in Tara anymore. Unless, he supposed, he was starting to hallucinate much like his mother had been doing since his father had disappeared. He didn't think he was, but did madness know madness?

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy chuckles. "Yes, I believe that's a good way to describe Milliways. Far from everyone's home." He offers the boy--very well-spoken, for a boy--a hand. "Father Francis John Patrick Mulcahy. My family immigrated from Ireland some years ago."

[artfowler]

Milliways, the name of the place. That answers one of Artemis's question. He shakes the proffered hand. "Artemis Fowl the Second, at your acquaintance. Father Mulcahy, hmm. I assume you're a military chaplain by your state of dress then, correct?"

[cheerychaplain]

"A pleasure, Artemis," he says, with a ready smile, and he adjusts his glasses. "That's right. I'm stationed with the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, in Korea."

[artfowler]

How odd, Artemis thinks. He thought the last unit in Korea had been decommisioned four years ago. And, "I thought all those've been coverted to Combat Support Hospitals."

This place, Artemis knew then, could not possibly be a delusion. He was sure that even though he'd be mad, he'd still be able to get facts right. No, Father Mulcahy was not a meticulous figment of his imagination.

[cheerychaplain]

Mulcahy blinks, surprised that the boy recognized the title, and even more so at his words. "No, no converting," he says. "It's -- it's 1951 where I'm from, you do realize."

[artfowler]

It's impossible to see and to know from Mulcahy’s point of view and others with the mirrored sunglasses he still wears, but Artemis blinks in surprise at such a revelation. 1951. That put Mulcahy exactly half a century behind him.

"Extraordinary," he murmurs, glancing at the observation window again. A bar that appears in place of where his bedroom should be, a view of what looks to be the worlds collapsing in on one another, and now a man fifty years into his past.

There was only one way to describe such an experience and so again he repeats his earlier adjective, "Extraordinary."

[cheerychaplain]

"It is, I know. I suppose you're from 10,011," he says, smiling with the easy bemusement of someone who is very used to being astounded by other people's lives here.

[artfowler]

Artemis snorts, the first semblance of an emotion he has had since arriving, and he tries not to think about the sorts technology that would be at hand in 10,011.

"Hardly," he says. "It was 2001 when I left."

And now he glances at the door he had entered from not too long ago, wondering if it would lead back home at all.

[cheerychaplain]

Mulcahy catches the look, though he misinterprets its meaning. "Is it still there?"

[artfowler]

A black eyebrow raises up from behind the rim of his sunglasses as Artemis turns back to face Mulcahy. "Yes." Were doors not stationary in this place? "Do you not see it?"

[cheerychaplain]

"From what I understand, it can disappear at times for certain people, or it locks." He shrugs lightly, helplessly. "No one I've spoken to knows why."

[artfowler]

Perhaps it was technology, Artemis thinks as he turns his attention to the door, momentarily forgetting of Mulcahy.

A technology that could shield the door from others while remaining in plain sight for a few? And perhaps a concealed scanner on the knob to identify fingerprints before allowing a person to exit?

Or perhaps it was simply magic. He was not beyond believing in such things, after all. His extensive searching on the Internet had laid way to his believe in the People and of magic.

Either way, Artemis would have to gather more data before coming to a decisive decision. But this, quite clearly, was a place waiting to be explored.