B7
Title: The second rebirth.
Word Count: 239
Rating: Gen
Prompt: The arts
Notes: Post series - no spoilers.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Blake stopped dead, mouth dropping open in shock as his brow creased, pulling at the long scar along the side of his face. 'What the Hell is that?' The president asked of his two aides.
Vila stepped forward and appeared to examine it with great concentration. At length he concluded, 'It's a statue. I think they said it was made out of bronze.' His poker face was magnificent, ignoring the way his companion's shoulders shuddered subtly with jollity.
Avon composed himself and looked at it with an appraising eye and that familiar analytical expression. 'The artist appears to be a student of the realist school and seeks to evoke the artistic movement of the ancient greek culture. Thus they fulfil your brief on encouraging artistic expression and your crusade on the importance of improving the level of historic knowledge amongst the populace.'
Both men's statements sailed magnificently over the detail that had halted Blake in his tracks. He pulled a face and examined the figures, one was himself, the other possibly Servalan? It was hard to tell without her being dressed in her customary extravagant frocks. The little plaque on the base simply said 'The Final Victory', it wasn't very accurate. However, apart from the ridiculous glorification of himself and the revolution in a way that ignored the suffering and sacrifices he had only one question.
'Why did I have to be naked in this?'
Word Count: 239
Rating: Gen
Prompt: The arts
Notes: Post series - no spoilers.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Blake stopped dead, mouth dropping open in shock as his brow creased, pulling at the long scar along the side of his face. 'What the Hell is that?' The president asked of his two aides.
Vila stepped forward and appeared to examine it with great concentration. At length he concluded, 'It's a statue. I think they said it was made out of bronze.' His poker face was magnificent, ignoring the way his companion's shoulders shuddered subtly with jollity.
Avon composed himself and looked at it with an appraising eye and that familiar analytical expression. 'The artist appears to be a student of the realist school and seeks to evoke the artistic movement of the ancient greek culture. Thus they fulfil your brief on encouraging artistic expression and your crusade on the importance of improving the level of historic knowledge amongst the populace.'
Both men's statements sailed magnificently over the detail that had halted Blake in his tracks. He pulled a face and examined the figures, one was himself, the other possibly Servalan? It was hard to tell without her being dressed in her customary extravagant frocks. The little plaque on the base simply said 'The Final Victory', it wasn't very accurate. However, apart from the ridiculous glorification of himself and the revolution in a way that ignored the suffering and sacrifices he had only one question.
'Why did I have to be naked in this?'