August 2nd, 2010
|07:35 am - Home and Glamour, Part 7|
Today's Monday-morning earworm: "Ob la di, Ob la da."
Today's dread: phone calls and heat indexes.
Today's plan: accomplishment and air-conditioning.
Oh, and time to post today's Fic-Bite Ahoy. Where were we? Oh yes, Above them, the storm breaks.
As the staccato of hail and bass of thunder approach, Morgan sighs. “Cloaks on,” he says, “and I'll see if I can do something with this storm.”
He puts her cloak on first, and massages her shoulders as she fastens the silver chain at her throat over the necklace he gave her years ago. Once she's done, she caresses his hands and stares up at the magic-darkweighted clouds. “Petrel never did know when to stop,” she says.
“Petrel.” He snorts. “Darling, your family has the most ridiculous names. How you escaped with a passing lovely 'Alice' I'll never know.”
The glance she sends him could cut the strongest barrier. “Shall we talk about Rhys?”
“His name isn't one of the hundred objectionable things about my brother.” The crooked-true smile is faster than the cloud-to-ground strike which hits a quarter-mile away. “And we will deal with salt and storm, never you fear.”
“Arrogance,” she murmurs, but helps him on with his own cloak, fastens the chain herself, kisses his chin. “Go on then, Guild-man.”
He wrinkles his nose at that. “Not any more, Alice. My own man, and yours.” Before she can answer, he leaps down the front steps in a flutter of cloak and goes into the lightning-lit windrain.
The mature ashes alongside the hedge greet him with a flutter of leaves. This is Morgan, not the wind.
He raises his hands, uses his fingers to trace out the lines of magic cracking the lightning, snaps two of the lines with a brief incantation. Hail stops, rain eases.
“Thank you, my heart,” Alice says, and steps out onto the path. “That will do to start with.”
She goes by him with the briefest touch, then stations herself in front of the hedge-door. The blade he gave her catches the rain and sends it shimmering into the evening.
From above them, one last cloud-to-ground strike; Morgan sends it back up, ground-to-cloud. In its passage comes a moment, a hole, in which first starlight glimmers like the blade.
A car stops on the other side of the hedge. Doors slam with a heavy, echoing thud. Footsteps, then a knock on the hedge-door.
“In the name of the Queen, we request entrance,” says a cool female voice.
“In our own names, we greet you,” Alice says, and opens the hedge-door --
And parries the dagger-thrust that comes over the threshold first.
Honey, honey, life goes on. :-)
|Date:||August 2nd, 2010 01:06 pm (UTC)|| |
I'm glad it pleased, L!
Happy Monday, with London joys. :-)
Thanks and a happy Monday, Rainkatt!
Very nice weekend fic bits.
Thank you thank you!
Happy Monday, too. :-)
You've certainly mastered the art of cliff-hanging!
Unwanted relative visits are the worst....
At least this time it's not literal cliff-hanging. ;-)
Thank you thank you, ALH, and a happy Monday to you!
Petrel? ::snurk:: No wonder she's gone bad!
And yes, that is a rather breathless spot to leave it. Queen Which? one wonders ... but one does have faith that life goes on.
There is a reason she's called Petrel, but no excuse. ;-)
More anon, re which Queen and so on. :-)
But for now, thank you thank you, H_P! Happy thoughts of 60s spies and cool breezes sent your way. [hugs]
Ooh, Alice! So sharp! In many ways.
And very glad the story goes on.
I'm so glad that Alice's sharpness is pleasing you, and even more glad you're reading. :-) Thank you thank you, and a good Monday!
Eeeep! (at the last line) :-)
Thank you thank you for the 'eeeep', Gwynne, and thanks and hugs for reading! Happy Monday. :-)
Thank you thank you, Stevie! (and I love your Lucy icon. :-))
There's a whole backstory I'm just hinting at, true enough -- I'm so glad this bit pleased, C! Thank you thank YOU!
Happy Tuesday, too. :-)
Love. The name things make me so happy.
I had fun with the name things, so I'm v.v. glad you liked them. Thank you thank you, Susan, plus hugs.