What Color Best Describes Your Inner Personality?
“Best roses in Manhattan,” Napoleon declared as he and Illya exited Floral Designs by Olivier on Central Park West. Each man carried an elegant bouquet of flowers, wrapped in pink cellophane and tied with a silk ribbon. “Olivier always carries the best.”
“They are certainly the most expensive,” Illya replied, gazing mournfully at his empty wallet. “Ah well, nothing is too good for Aunt Amy, I suppose.”
“That's the spirit. I'll make a capitalist out of you yet.”
Read on: Link takes you to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/678105
A Valentine Story for SSClassof56
Prompt: Pride and Prejudice
A little birdie told me that your Valentine story got lost in the mail, so here's a new one for you, with my very best wishes.
The limousine sped silently through the Malibu Hills, whizzing past curious passers-by taking their evening stroll, or walking their dogs along the cliffside in the fading light. The Pacific Ocean shimmered in the gathering darkness.
Slumped in the backseat, Illya adjusted his jewel-encrusted coronet for the umpteenth time. “I look ridiculous in this thing,” he grumbled yet again.
"'Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,'” Napoleon replied drily. He slipped a fresh clip of ammo into his Walther.
LINK takes you to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/658861
Illya stared down at the document before him. A single sheet of paper, three short sentences. A bold line at the bottom, awaiting his signature. His vision blurred; he blinked to clear it.
“Second thoughts?” Olivia Dancer's warm brown eyes studied him from across the table. “If you need more time, sir –?”
So like her mother. “No.” He signed the document with a flourish, and spun the completed paperwork around the conference table, officially closing a chapter in his life. He sat back, feeling an impossible weight lift off his shoulders.
|You Are an Artist|
You are a creator of sorts, but you are also a reframer and remixer. You see art everywhere.
The sky was clear over Jerusalem, and the desert night had turned cold. From their vantage point on a hill overlooking the city, Napoleon and Illya drew their jackets about them, and settled in for what promised to be a very long stakeout. It was Christmas Eve, and they were far from home.
You Are From the Moon
You can vibe with the steady rhythms of the Moon.
The rain came down in buckets, in torrents, propelled nearly sideways by a savage wind that shook the trees lining the Boston Post Road, and rattled the ancient windowpanes of The Lamb and Scythe Tavern.
You Are a Purple Smoothie
You are a very deep and even mysterious person. You have so much going on that people can't really figure you out.