(no subject)
Fan fiction for landofgrimm. Again all credit for the inspiration goes to slaveofmydreams.
Tea Time
PG-13
No real spoilers.
I own nothing and make no money off this.
Despite all, some things never do really change.
Why hello, my dear, Why don't you come and join us? Sit down and have a cup of tea.
Ah. Not there. Not there. Move down, please. Move down! Move down!
There. Much better. Now, would you care for some more tea?
Oh, well. I suppose you can't very well have more tea if you haven't had any yet. Perhaps some jam?
It really has been too long since, you've stopped by for a visit, my dear. Why, we had almost given up hope.
Oh, but you have, my dear. A great number of times. Well, She has, to be precise, but you're Her and She's you. So it all makes perfect sense.
What, you thought you were the first?
Oh, Heavens no! There are ever so many young girls that have started just as you are. Why the great queen herself once wore that mantle. You should feel honored! There was even some talk of retiring it, after the advent of the queen. Though it seems they haven't, since here you are. Move down, please. Move down! Move down!
Oh, but here I am forgetting myself. Have you heard the news?
Oh, but you simply must. It's fantastic news really. The Queen is going to have a ball! Isn't that simply marvelous? Why, it will be the biggest event since my last un-birthday.
Ah, those were the days. Why, the queen would even attend on occasion. Not that anyone else really showed up for those particular ones, but it's a great honor to have royalty attend one's un-birthday.
She's looking for a new consort, of course. Move down, please. Move down! Move… Oh no, skip that place, my dear. That's His seat. Oh, you don't want to hear about him. No one ever really does. It spoils things. Now, where was I? Oh, that's right. MOVE DOWN!
The old one? Oh, well. He had a bit of a temper and one day he just sort of… lost his head. Quite the mess as I understand it, but I don't think it really surprised anyone. No. No.
Me compete? Oh, now don't be ridiculous, my dear. Take the March Hare over there though. He's been to the Queen's balls before. He even made it to the finals one year, don't you know?
Oh, that? Think nothing of it, my dear. Nothing a little patchwork can't fix. I say, could you pass me glue there? And the honey?
Well, how rude. Did you see that?
She just up and left. Not even a by your leave or a thank you for the tea. And so noisy. Who is picking the roles theses days?
Oh really? Well. I suppose he would know, wouldn't he?
Oh, dear yes the glue! And the honey! Lot's of honey!
There you go, right as rain again in no time. Would you care for some more tea?
Oh, yes. We should rather give that time to set, shouldn't we? Just half a cup.
Spun Glass
PG-13
No real spoilers.
I own nothing and make no money off this.
For every story, there must be someone to tell it.
He looked down into a clear pool and watched the ripples vanish one by one like startled minnows until the surface was still and smooth as glass. It reflected everything perfectly, from the whole of the sky and the slender, green grace of the trees surrounding the glade to the delicate nodding of the bright flowers that bordered the pool. He leaned out over the pool and peered closer and in the glass smooth reflection nothing moved. Not a cloud or leaf or a single delicate petal. The wind nearly blew His hat off and into the reflecting pond, but one hand caught it tight against His curls. Darkly painted lips curved up in a smile that, on other features, might have been sweet and sad. Wistful. He dipped His hand into the reflection and watched it pull away with His fingers, clinging like molten glass.
Humming a little under His breath he kneaded and molded the liquid mass in His hands until it took the form of a delicate pair of slippers. Pure spun glass that reflected all the colors of the woods and sky and blossoms.
He brought the shoes up to His mouth, dark paint leaving delicate smudges on them as he murmured. "There is nothing quite so fulfilling as to see a well filled role played out to its inevitable conclusion. You will be no different. But I will let you think differently, because the story needs you. I have no name, because I have no story, but all stories are mine. Now go. Find her, bring her here. The stories are hungry with waiting."
Released from His hands the glass slippers shimmer a moment, absorbing the dark smudges into themselves and gleaming even more brightly as they vanished in search of the foot that would fit them.
Tea Time
PG-13
No real spoilers.
I own nothing and make no money off this.
Despite all, some things never do really change.
Why hello, my dear, Why don't you come and join us? Sit down and have a cup of tea.
Ah. Not there. Not there. Move down, please. Move down! Move down!
There. Much better. Now, would you care for some more tea?
Oh, well. I suppose you can't very well have more tea if you haven't had any yet. Perhaps some jam?
It really has been too long since, you've stopped by for a visit, my dear. Why, we had almost given up hope.
Oh, but you have, my dear. A great number of times. Well, She has, to be precise, but you're Her and She's you. So it all makes perfect sense.
What, you thought you were the first?
Oh, Heavens no! There are ever so many young girls that have started just as you are. Why the great queen herself once wore that mantle. You should feel honored! There was even some talk of retiring it, after the advent of the queen. Though it seems they haven't, since here you are. Move down, please. Move down! Move down!
Oh, but here I am forgetting myself. Have you heard the news?
Oh, but you simply must. It's fantastic news really. The Queen is going to have a ball! Isn't that simply marvelous? Why, it will be the biggest event since my last un-birthday.
Ah, those were the days. Why, the queen would even attend on occasion. Not that anyone else really showed up for those particular ones, but it's a great honor to have royalty attend one's un-birthday.
She's looking for a new consort, of course. Move down, please. Move down! Move… Oh no, skip that place, my dear. That's His seat. Oh, you don't want to hear about him. No one ever really does. It spoils things. Now, where was I? Oh, that's right. MOVE DOWN!
The old one? Oh, well. He had a bit of a temper and one day he just sort of… lost his head. Quite the mess as I understand it, but I don't think it really surprised anyone. No. No.
Me compete? Oh, now don't be ridiculous, my dear. Take the March Hare over there though. He's been to the Queen's balls before. He even made it to the finals one year, don't you know?
Oh, that? Think nothing of it, my dear. Nothing a little patchwork can't fix. I say, could you pass me glue there? And the honey?
Well, how rude. Did you see that?
She just up and left. Not even a by your leave or a thank you for the tea. And so noisy. Who is picking the roles theses days?
Oh really? Well. I suppose he would know, wouldn't he?
Oh, dear yes the glue! And the honey! Lot's of honey!
There you go, right as rain again in no time. Would you care for some more tea?
Oh, yes. We should rather give that time to set, shouldn't we? Just half a cup.
Spun Glass
PG-13
No real spoilers.
I own nothing and make no money off this.
For every story, there must be someone to tell it.
He looked down into a clear pool and watched the ripples vanish one by one like startled minnows until the surface was still and smooth as glass. It reflected everything perfectly, from the whole of the sky and the slender, green grace of the trees surrounding the glade to the delicate nodding of the bright flowers that bordered the pool. He leaned out over the pool and peered closer and in the glass smooth reflection nothing moved. Not a cloud or leaf or a single delicate petal. The wind nearly blew His hat off and into the reflecting pond, but one hand caught it tight against His curls. Darkly painted lips curved up in a smile that, on other features, might have been sweet and sad. Wistful. He dipped His hand into the reflection and watched it pull away with His fingers, clinging like molten glass.
Humming a little under His breath he kneaded and molded the liquid mass in His hands until it took the form of a delicate pair of slippers. Pure spun glass that reflected all the colors of the woods and sky and blossoms.
He brought the shoes up to His mouth, dark paint leaving delicate smudges on them as he murmured. "There is nothing quite so fulfilling as to see a well filled role played out to its inevitable conclusion. You will be no different. But I will let you think differently, because the story needs you. I have no name, because I have no story, but all stories are mine. Now go. Find her, bring her here. The stories are hungry with waiting."
Released from His hands the glass slippers shimmer a moment, absorbing the dark smudges into themselves and gleaming even more brightly as they vanished in search of the foot that would fit them.