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Title: Five guests who simply couldn't stay for dinner - and the gentleman who did
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oneiriad
Disclaimer: none of these belong to me
A/N:order_of_chaos asked for Hel (Norse Mythology) + PotC, Good Omens, SGA, Sherlock, Highlander
1. "Savvy?"
At long last the tanned man falls silent, allowing her to lean back and properly consider him. He's no Orpheus, that's for certain, and what gifts he has brought are meager things - trinkets rather than what is truly her due, when asked for such a boon.
But he has her cousin's mark, a wetness in his soul, and anyway, she has a suspicion that if she does not grant him this, he'll just keep prattling - so she gestures to the man by her side and he rises, bowing and offering a respectful "Ma'am" before crossing the room to join the other, before they leave together.
She wonders why they bother, honestly - it's not like they won't be back soon enough...
***
2. "Terribly sorry" it says, the bright thing, as it stumbles across her threshold, "terribly, terribly sorry, but I fear there's been some sort of bureaucratic mix-up. I'm looking for..."
She's quite sure there has been - her house is no place for this one's light, her table has no seat for it - but she's not really surprised it's here. It's not like she doesn't listen to the gossip that Ratatosk brings when it crosses her demesne on its way to Nidhogg's lair - gossip of light and darkness, feathers and scales.
"The one you seek," she interrupts it, "is down by the beach - down by Nástrand."
It bows as it leaves, but she ignores it - it's better that way, to ignore such as it, if at all possible. Far better for all involved. And she has matters to attend to.
***
3. The interruption is annoying, making her frown at the new arrival who is so rudely dragging her newest guest up from his seat - and just as they were in the middle of a most stimulating discussion of lethal toxins.
"But John," her dinner partner protests, but the other will have none of it, just drags him off without as much as a by-you-leave, leaving behind only a trail of water and a faint scent of chlorine.
She tells herself that this is the last time she offers to cover for her cousin Ran while she she's on holiday. The last time...
***
4. If not for the weapon pointed at her, she could almost hug the soldier. She almost does anyway.
"Please, take him. Keep him," and she pushes her bothersome guest into the soldier's waiting arms. "Please."
The soldier smiles, suddenly looking more boyish than his years should let him, and offers her a brief salute, before turning to lead his charge and his indignant squaking out of her sight.
After a moment's consideration, she decides that she does in fact deserve the second piece of lemon meringue pie, after all the aggravation. Honestly, you'd think a real genius would have realized that allergies wasn't an issue here...
***
5. "Sorry, is this a bad time?"
Methos enters, cautiously, but she just glares at him - this time.
"I'll just see myself back out, then.." and he hastily beats a retreat.
Once he's out of her sight, she sighs. Honestly, most people have the courtesy of not dying more than once or maybe twice - but these immortals. Is it any wonder she takes it personally, how they scorn her hospitality - and Methos the worst of the lot. Now look at her table, all set, and yet she must dine alone - again.
After a moment's consideration she grabs hold of Ganglati's arm and informs him that she'll be taking Garm his dinner herself tonight. At least he's always pleased with her company...
***
+1. At first she thinks he's Methos, returned once more, but no - he walks too slowly, this one, too gingerly, stopping to touch himself in wonder the way the very old or the very infirm often do when they come to her, as if they cannot quite believe. Still, there is something about him, something restless, and she half expects someone to interrupt them before they even have time to sit.
Nobody does.
He bows to her, an oldfashioned bow, and kisses the back of her hand as he introduces himself, and she can't help but smile as she gestures for him to seat himself at her side.
As Ganglati and Ganglöt are bringing in the first dish, he leans in close and enquires if perhaps it might be possible for an old friend of his to join them.
"I suppose that might be arranged. His name?" she enquires, gesturing for Ganglati.
"Nigel. Nigel Griffin."
"Very well. Ganglati, if you'd be so kind," and her servant bows and leaves. She doubts he'll be long - those who expect company rarely stray far.
While they wait wine is poured, and when the extra guest arrives, James Watson leads the three of them in a toast.
At the end of dinner she's surprised to realize that she's still smiling.
Author:
oneiriadDisclaimer: none of these belong to me
A/N:
order_of_chaos asked for Hel (Norse Mythology) + PotC, Good Omens, SGA, Sherlock, Highlander1. "Savvy?"
At long last the tanned man falls silent, allowing her to lean back and properly consider him. He's no Orpheus, that's for certain, and what gifts he has brought are meager things - trinkets rather than what is truly her due, when asked for such a boon.
But he has her cousin's mark, a wetness in his soul, and anyway, she has a suspicion that if she does not grant him this, he'll just keep prattling - so she gestures to the man by her side and he rises, bowing and offering a respectful "Ma'am" before crossing the room to join the other, before they leave together.
She wonders why they bother, honestly - it's not like they won't be back soon enough...
***
2. "Terribly sorry" it says, the bright thing, as it stumbles across her threshold, "terribly, terribly sorry, but I fear there's been some sort of bureaucratic mix-up. I'm looking for..."
She's quite sure there has been - her house is no place for this one's light, her table has no seat for it - but she's not really surprised it's here. It's not like she doesn't listen to the gossip that Ratatosk brings when it crosses her demesne on its way to Nidhogg's lair - gossip of light and darkness, feathers and scales.
"The one you seek," she interrupts it, "is down by the beach - down by Nástrand."
It bows as it leaves, but she ignores it - it's better that way, to ignore such as it, if at all possible. Far better for all involved. And she has matters to attend to.
***
3. The interruption is annoying, making her frown at the new arrival who is so rudely dragging her newest guest up from his seat - and just as they were in the middle of a most stimulating discussion of lethal toxins.
"But John," her dinner partner protests, but the other will have none of it, just drags him off without as much as a by-you-leave, leaving behind only a trail of water and a faint scent of chlorine.
She tells herself that this is the last time she offers to cover for her cousin Ran while she she's on holiday. The last time...
***
4. If not for the weapon pointed at her, she could almost hug the soldier. She almost does anyway.
"Please, take him. Keep him," and she pushes her bothersome guest into the soldier's waiting arms. "Please."
The soldier smiles, suddenly looking more boyish than his years should let him, and offers her a brief salute, before turning to lead his charge and his indignant squaking out of her sight.
After a moment's consideration, she decides that she does in fact deserve the second piece of lemon meringue pie, after all the aggravation. Honestly, you'd think a real genius would have realized that allergies wasn't an issue here...
***
5. "Sorry, is this a bad time?"
Methos enters, cautiously, but she just glares at him - this time.
"I'll just see myself back out, then.." and he hastily beats a retreat.
Once he's out of her sight, she sighs. Honestly, most people have the courtesy of not dying more than once or maybe twice - but these immortals. Is it any wonder she takes it personally, how they scorn her hospitality - and Methos the worst of the lot. Now look at her table, all set, and yet she must dine alone - again.
After a moment's consideration she grabs hold of Ganglati's arm and informs him that she'll be taking Garm his dinner herself tonight. At least he's always pleased with her company...
***
+1. At first she thinks he's Methos, returned once more, but no - he walks too slowly, this one, too gingerly, stopping to touch himself in wonder the way the very old or the very infirm often do when they come to her, as if they cannot quite believe. Still, there is something about him, something restless, and she half expects someone to interrupt them before they even have time to sit.
Nobody does.
He bows to her, an oldfashioned bow, and kisses the back of her hand as he introduces himself, and she can't help but smile as she gestures for him to seat himself at her side.
As Ganglati and Ganglöt are bringing in the first dish, he leans in close and enquires if perhaps it might be possible for an old friend of his to join them.
"I suppose that might be arranged. His name?" she enquires, gesturing for Ganglati.
"Nigel. Nigel Griffin."
"Very well. Ganglati, if you'd be so kind," and her servant bows and leaves. She doubts he'll be long - those who expect company rarely stray far.
While they wait wine is poured, and when the extra guest arrives, James Watson leads the three of them in a toast.
At the end of dinner she's surprised to realize that she's still smiling.
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These are lovely!
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Good thing that James is a gentleman, really - after all, just wait till the day Tesla finally shows up for his - very belated - dinner appointment. I fear a gentleman will be urgently needed then...
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*grins* She should have a conversation with Discworld Death. He could show her Rincewind's hourglass ...
And oh yes. Absolutely a gentleman will be needed, to soothe ruffled feathers. *grins*
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