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such_heights) wrote2007-11-03 10:55 am
such_heights) wrote2007-11-03 10:55 am
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Two GO Ficlets
So, whilst I'm not actually doing NaNo this year, alas, the plan is sort of to take the spirit of the month and write as much as I can, thus ploughing through my different exchanges and also getting back to other projects. But I believe I still owe some drabbles!
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faeriemaiden, yours I'm going to have to come back, because good heavens the idea of a Jack & Saffron crossover is awesome, and so I'm letting it simmer for a bit. (Also, I hate you. :P)
But here's a couple of wee Good Omens things. I really am horrendously rusty with these two.
Forsunnyrea; Aziraphale and Crowley meeting with Da Vinci and multiple bottles of wine.
Crowley leaned back in his chair, swilling wine around the bottom of his glass. Aziraphale coughed pointedly next to him, and he realised he'd forgotten to hold the glass, which was currently tilting gently in mid-air. Hastily grabbing it, he looked over at Leonardo, who was too preoccupied with scribbling something down to have noticed.
"Right, go on, try this one," Da Vinci was saying, before holding up a few lines of his spidery, scrawled mirror-writing.
"'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here'," Aziraphale replied promptly. "I've always been a great fan of Dante."
"He had terrible taste in wine, though," Crowley muttered, and Aziraphale grimaced slightly in agreement.
Da Vinci shook his head. "Extraordinary, really extraordinary. Seems I won't be keeping any secrets from you, Mr Fale!"
Aziraphale just smiled politely, and Crowley laughed to himself, eyes scanning the room, where he couldn't help but notice a rather promising painting in the corner.
"Leonardo," he began conversationally, "who's that lady over there?"
"Hmm?" Da Vinci replied, glancing over, "oh, you mean Lisa there?" Quite a beauty, don't you think?"
Crowley nodded casually, but inside a bell was ringing with promise.
---
For_xanthia; one of Crowley's favourite plants suddenly dies.
Crowley was becoming exceedingly frustrated.
"Just get a little greener, can't you? Or do you want to join your friend the orchid in the dump?" he hissed in annoyance.
But the bonsai tree he'd so tenderly cared for seemed completely incapable of producing foliage anywhere near satisfaction. Crowley gave it a week, but in the end it was clear it just wasn't going to make it.
He conducted his usual ritual of thrusting the dead tree before all of his other plants, but his heart wasn't really in it. He'd been cultivating this particular plant for a few years now, and to have it wither away in spite of it all was more than a little distressing. He'd had faint plans of eventually persuading it to form some kind of demonic shape or other, then bequeathing it on the nice old lady who lived downstairs. But this, clearly, was not to be, and so he held it out at arm's length as he carried it downstairs.
When he got out into the street, he was surprised to find Aziraphale just stepping of a bus (poor fool forever insisting that public transport was a work of Heaven, when Crowley knew full well every particle of it had been guided by down below).
"Is everything all right, my dear?" the angel asked, looking in concern at Crowley.
"This one didn't make the cut," Crowley replied grimly, before ceremoniously dropping it into the bin.
Aziraphale frowned. "I do sympathise. A customer bought one of my books today! A Hardy first edition I hadn't even read yet, would you believe it?"
Crowley tried hard to suppress a laugh, and mostly succeeded. "'Well, in face of our disappointments, I'd say a drink was in order, wouldn't you?
faeriemaiden, yours I'm going to have to come back, because good heavens the idea of a Jack & Saffron crossover is awesome, and so I'm letting it simmer for a bit. (Also, I hate you. :P)But here's a couple of wee Good Omens things. I really am horrendously rusty with these two.
For
sunnyrea; Aziraphale and Crowley meeting with Da Vinci and multiple bottles of wine. Crowley leaned back in his chair, swilling wine around the bottom of his glass. Aziraphale coughed pointedly next to him, and he realised he'd forgotten to hold the glass, which was currently tilting gently in mid-air. Hastily grabbing it, he looked over at Leonardo, who was too preoccupied with scribbling something down to have noticed.
"Right, go on, try this one," Da Vinci was saying, before holding up a few lines of his spidery, scrawled mirror-writing.
"'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here'," Aziraphale replied promptly. "I've always been a great fan of Dante."
"He had terrible taste in wine, though," Crowley muttered, and Aziraphale grimaced slightly in agreement.
Da Vinci shook his head. "Extraordinary, really extraordinary. Seems I won't be keeping any secrets from you, Mr Fale!"
Aziraphale just smiled politely, and Crowley laughed to himself, eyes scanning the room, where he couldn't help but notice a rather promising painting in the corner.
"Leonardo," he began conversationally, "who's that lady over there?"
"Hmm?" Da Vinci replied, glancing over, "oh, you mean Lisa there?" Quite a beauty, don't you think?"
Crowley nodded casually, but inside a bell was ringing with promise.
---
For
_xanthia; one of Crowley's favourite plants suddenly dies.Crowley was becoming exceedingly frustrated.
"Just get a little greener, can't you? Or do you want to join your friend the orchid in the dump?" he hissed in annoyance.
But the bonsai tree he'd so tenderly cared for seemed completely incapable of producing foliage anywhere near satisfaction. Crowley gave it a week, but in the end it was clear it just wasn't going to make it.
He conducted his usual ritual of thrusting the dead tree before all of his other plants, but his heart wasn't really in it. He'd been cultivating this particular plant for a few years now, and to have it wither away in spite of it all was more than a little distressing. He'd had faint plans of eventually persuading it to form some kind of demonic shape or other, then bequeathing it on the nice old lady who lived downstairs. But this, clearly, was not to be, and so he held it out at arm's length as he carried it downstairs.
When he got out into the street, he was surprised to find Aziraphale just stepping of a bus (poor fool forever insisting that public transport was a work of Heaven, when Crowley knew full well every particle of it had been guided by down below).
"Is everything all right, my dear?" the angel asked, looking in concern at Crowley.
"This one didn't make the cut," Crowley replied grimly, before ceremoniously dropping it into the bin.
Aziraphale frowned. "I do sympathise. A customer bought one of my books today! A Hardy first edition I hadn't even read yet, would you believe it?"
Crowley tried hard to suppress a laugh, and mostly succeeded. "'Well, in face of our disappointments, I'd say a drink was in order, wouldn't you?
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Hee!
I love them.