Chocolate 16; Pistachio 17
Author: Marina
Story: Shifts universe (Tremors)
Challenge: Chocolate 16 (pride), Pistachio 17 (just stopping by)
Toppings/Extras: Rainbow Sprinkles (Claudia), Hot Fudge (Rupert)
Word Count: 333
Rating: PG
Summary: To say that Claudia is less than pleased about recent events would be a gross understatement.
Notes: This may or may not end up being the final scene of Tremors. It depends on how well the scene that precedes it works as a closer.
Rupert did not bother knocking or announcing himself to the butler. The time for propriety had long since passed, giving way to the necessity for damage control. One way or another, this runaround with the Kopens will end tonight, he thought. And this time, there is no need to tiptoe around Claudia to make it happen.
He stepped into the foyer, and glanced up to see Claudia, paused midway down the right-hand staircase. Tear streaks lined her worn face, a sight that would have shocked him had it not been for the expression that lay underneath them: the proud, inscrutable one he was used to. “Have you come here to kill me, Rupert?” she asked.
“No,” he said calmly. It was true enough. He had no desire to harm her, and could think of few reasons he would need to.
“Then you might as well leave. I have nothing else for you to take.”
At this, he frowned slightly, unsure what exactly that meant. She had to have heard something from her niece and nephew by that point, judging by the tears. What it was, and where they were, remained unclear. “I have come to speak with your nephew.”
“He isn’t here,” she said.
“When will he return?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps never.”
The vehemence with which she spoke the final word did surprise him, and for a moment, he merely looked up at her, considering it. That is not the face of a woman who has just been told that her son-in-law has been concealing her daughter’s state of mortality for the past seven years, he said to himself. That is the face of a woman who has been bereft of everything she loves, and who has no hope left.
“I want you to leave, Rupert,” she said again. “If you’re satisfied, you can gloat somewhere else.”
Reassured, he nodded and swept out of the house, putting the image of the broken woman on the stairs out of his mind forever.
Story: Shifts universe (Tremors)
Challenge: Chocolate 16 (pride), Pistachio 17 (just stopping by)
Toppings/Extras: Rainbow Sprinkles (Claudia), Hot Fudge (Rupert)
Word Count: 333
Rating: PG
Summary: To say that Claudia is less than pleased about recent events would be a gross understatement.
Notes: This may or may not end up being the final scene of Tremors. It depends on how well the scene that precedes it works as a closer.
Rupert did not bother knocking or announcing himself to the butler. The time for propriety had long since passed, giving way to the necessity for damage control. One way or another, this runaround with the Kopens will end tonight, he thought. And this time, there is no need to tiptoe around Claudia to make it happen.
He stepped into the foyer, and glanced up to see Claudia, paused midway down the right-hand staircase. Tear streaks lined her worn face, a sight that would have shocked him had it not been for the expression that lay underneath them: the proud, inscrutable one he was used to. “Have you come here to kill me, Rupert?” she asked.
“No,” he said calmly. It was true enough. He had no desire to harm her, and could think of few reasons he would need to.
“Then you might as well leave. I have nothing else for you to take.”
At this, he frowned slightly, unsure what exactly that meant. She had to have heard something from her niece and nephew by that point, judging by the tears. What it was, and where they were, remained unclear. “I have come to speak with your nephew.”
“He isn’t here,” she said.
“When will he return?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps never.”
The vehemence with which she spoke the final word did surprise him, and for a moment, he merely looked up at her, considering it. That is not the face of a woman who has just been told that her son-in-law has been concealing her daughter’s state of mortality for the past seven years, he said to himself. That is the face of a woman who has been bereft of everything she loves, and who has no hope left.
“I want you to leave, Rupert,” she said again. “If you’re satisfied, you can gloat somewhere else.”
Reassured, he nodded and swept out of the house, putting the image of the broken woman on the stairs out of his mind forever.