* Frozen Lilies.*
* Rating: Pg-13/ R for some points.
Pairings: Over all Trowa/Serena.. all though Quatre wishes it differently. Poor Boy.
Disclaimer: :: is sitting in front of a desk, arms crossed petulantly glaring at the two men in three piece suits with greased back hair. They practically reeked 'lawyer'. One man, let's call him Tubby for he is tubby, slams his fist down onto the desk with an oath worthy of nothing. Silver just eyed him clearly unimpressed, " I've heard a tree do better." Tubby fumes and points at the stack of papers on the desk, "Sign them!" The other man, how about Smart One, sighs and shakes his head. At least this one had something called common sense. "She ain't going to."
Silver suddenely leaps to the desk and raises a fist to the air. The two lawyers fall over and sweat drop.
Silver's cry rises and carries from the room. "They may take ye pens, but they can never take…ye imagination!!! MWAHAHAHAHA." And that, dear friends, is the dis(not)claim(own)er(nothing).::
Summary:
You know, I really wish my freaking brain would make it's freaking mind up and keep it that way. I suddenly got three ideas, thank all that is wholly insane. But, I doubt that I would have done so well had I not gotten some very good, and hell amusing ideas, from you dear dear dear readers. And, if I say that I adore you all, I hope you will not dub me mentally tweaked and run away screaming. Hey, that is like…cruel, no da. But, there ya go. I said I'd probably break through the 'story on hold' thing, and I did. So, here we go.
Again. ::sighs:: Someone is going to kill me. One of these days….
You know. It has occurred to me that I am a terrible author. ::Slumps:: Well, perhaps not in the matter of talent. I've got loads of that. But, what I mean is, that I can't even direct it. And I wouldn't have gotten this chapter out had it not been for a certain reviewer who's stuck by these stories since the beginning. So, I think those of you who adore this story as much as I do, should thank her for getting me off my arse and typing. Sometimes one just needs a good swift kick of faith to get them on their feet again. Thanks Sarah!!!!! By the way, those are some really neat ideas. I'll be using a few. ^____^.
I know. Hot damn is right. I thought I'd never see the day. Well, it's more or less how to put those ideas on paper so to speak. I have thousands of them but they don't fit with this story so, fat lot of good they're doing me. Hence the reason I've started Something Like Human. I finally have the plot line started. Ahh, I think that some of your marvelous schemes found their way into the chapter. I'm not entirely certain though…
I'm glad you like it. I'm trying to make it so that it wont be shadowed by Burning Roses as any good sequel should be.
Actually, Serena thinks that the Pink terror would make wonderful kindling. Go right ahead. BURN IT ALL!!! {insert evil laughter here}
Wufei is …somewhere. He'll show up in either the next chapter or the one after that. I hear he's having a lovely vacation. Lucky bastard.
I kid you not my friend. The truth is easily swallowed with the right force, trust me. ::Rubs throat with a wince where a lovely mauve bruise is apparent.:: One of my muses….eh, the romance one, was getting tired of sitting in the back seat and decided to take matters in it's own hands, it's rather obvious where actually…
Hmmmm, I think I'm going to have to place Darien in the story somewhere now….
As we all know, Women have wills of steel. Gundanium, most of them. So it comes as no surprise that Serena has Trowa washed, rinsed and hung out to dry. And there is a mention of eyelash curlers in here somewhere. Also, try not to roast the author, show some forgiveness. ;_;.
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Chapter Five.
Revenge is a dish best served cold. But, Quatre, sadist extraordinaire, really didn't enjoy cold things all that well. Thus it was, that he decided to heat up the serving. Besides that, his creativity was rather frightening in the fact that there were several techniques of impossible agony, none of which could be done without a certain ingredient. This ingredient just so happened to be pink.
Pink and a good dosage of fire plus a sound proof dungeon filled with very intriguing instruments of torture….
Quatre was quite pleased with said arrangements.
Duo was trembling in his boots (as is this traumatized author….My God…).
The blonde sadist smiled happily at Duo. A little too happy, if you asked the braided one. Duo shuddered. And promptly began praying to any goddess of mercy he could think of. Then he began chanting a mantra. "Pink cannot hurt me, pink cannot hurt me, pink cannot hurt me…" , squeezing his eyes shut in the hope that the bad things will go away. Way away. If you cant see it, it cant see you and all that. Make like an ostrich.
All together now; Awwwww.
Apparently, Duo was on someone's 'Save the {insert animal here}' campaign and therefore off limits to all things pinkish in origin and that included torture for in the next instant Serena, bless her soul, burst into the room in a flurry of blonde hair and riding cloak. She had to be an angel. Duo made a note to worship her when he got out of these.. darn… ties…A-hah! There we are. Much better, blessed circulation.
The effect she had on the blonde sadist was instantaneous. Evil to innocent so fast it made Duo's head spin.
His relief was evident. In that moment, Duo decided to become Serena's self-appointed shadow.
And, oh look! He still had his braid. Oh happy day. Note to self: Worship Angel Serena fervently. Zealously. But later. Escape now.
So Duo did what Duo did best. Duo ran like hell was after him with pink undergarments of questionable decency in tow. 'Just wait till we get our Hanes on you' it cackled.
Of course, Duo wasn't about to 'just wait' and had many plans on running far, far, far away. So, with great unceremonious hast, Duo zig-zagged past nameless instruments of unspeakable horror, skirted Quatre with his happy and dazed grin (no doubt because there was a certain angel in the room) and zoomed to said angels side. He grabbed her hand kissed it with fervor while chanting 'thank you, thank you, thank you' over and over again. And then, without further ado, Duo made like the wind and was gone.
And all in thirty seconds.
Serena blinked twice then shook her head slowly, " I do not want to know." Then, eyeing the still grinning Quatre (aren't his cheeks starting to hurt?) slowly approached him and waved a hand in front of his face.
Quatre came back from his Angel induced fantasy with a 'snap' and turned a red that would have done shame to any self respecting tomato out there.
"Anyways." She stated tactfully, back peddling, "We're going on a trip! Get packed."
And then she too was gone, leaving Quatre's little heart beating out a love sick rhythm at twice the speed of light.
He collapsed with a happy whimper.
*****
2 Days later.
*****
The day of the so cleverly titled trip rolled around with a murky overcast sky in arm.
Trowa, poor dear that he was, sulked and kept himself occupied with impaling anyone within a twenty foot radius of him with glare's o' horrid doom to ye and yours™. Of course, when Serena fluttered past him, a load of luggage in her arms, and gave him a LOOK, he quickly straitened his act and went to sulk elsewhere. In the shadows mostly. There he shot daggers at all who were unlucky enough to wonder into the their trajectory. He took his little rain cloud with him for company.
It fizzled menacingly.
He muttered to himself.
The cloud coughed up a lightening bolt for emphasis. Belch.
Serena flitted past the shadow's hiding Trowa again, this time lugging a trunk half her size as though it weighed about as much as a feather. Trowa stared.
She paused, tossed a glare over at him, then shrugged. And kept going. But her words floated back to him. " You had better start helping dear, I have heavy artillery, not just peashooters.
Trowa lurched into action without second thought. A voice at the back of his mind screeched, FOUL!! He ignored it. That way lie dragons. And insanity…
What with Serena flitting about like a hyperactive bumble bee, Quatre shooting looks of O' Painful Malignant Death™ at Duo who had taken refuge hiding in Serena's shadow and Trowa radiating Homicidal Radio-active fumes (several fly carcasses littered the ground around him, which were starting to show signs of mutation.) one would quickly assume that this was not a very safe place to be.
My answer to this is; No shit Sherlock. Where did you get the first clue? Wonderful observational skills. Good God…
Well, the buggy was almost fully loaded. You know, the one where it looked as though a spider had either raped a carriage or some fool scientist lab dweller in their starched white coats, cackling like mad hyena's had gotten a little too happy with gene splicing. Yes, that one.
It's poor spindly legs were straining to keep it's self upright. The wood it was made of was starting to squeal in protest as Serena approached like Death's own (quite literally actually; She is after all the daughter of Death), and had it the sentient thought it might have been praying with a fervent hope like that of a priest in a whore house.
Serena, bright girl that she was, eyed the buggy ( hey, there's a pun in that! Spider, carriage, buggy. Get it?) then shifted the weight of her newest load and made to throw it, or rather lug it, up to the roof of the buggy. The buggy gave a shriek and opted to play possum. In lament terms; It died.
The blonde elf sighed then set down her luggage. "Well, damn." She huffed, sending a strangely hued fly sailing. Her eyes tracked it as it tumbled through the air then she blinked. Was it just her, or did that fly have … seven sets of wings? Shaking her head and dismissing it as her nightmarish imagination, she turned towards where Trowa was last seen and found him grousing about the world in general to a wall.
Serena sis what any one would have done in her shoes. She sweat dropped and rubbed her temples in slow, gentle clockwise circles. "Why me? I love him like whoa, but….why me?" Her shoulders slumped and she looked to the sky for an answer.
Of course, the sky, being the congenial whore that it was continued groping the clouds and ignored her all together.
Feeling suddenly peevish, Serena got an evil idea. Serena got a most terrible, evil, awful idea. Hardy har har. Oh she loved being her. The plotting elf slinked her way towards Trowa putting a magnetic sway to her hips that had Trowa's eyes glued to her figure most inappropriately, also coincidentally leaving Duo behind ( Quatre took this as his opportunity and pounced, eyelash curler in hand and proceeded to drag Duo away by the hair of his braidy braid braid, a la three little pigs).
Seconds later, an 'exited' Trowa was carrying a triumphant Serena away princess style; she had learned the art of Womanism. Observe shall we, the way she wagged her eyebrows at a cupid statue. Also notice how Trowa was acting like a happy little puppy, or perhaps a horny wolf that had found it's mate.
And that is all I wrote.
*****
Hundreds.
Hundreds of cat-like padding.
Hundreds of near silent footsteps.
The elfin army was marching.
Whoopee doo for them eh? And at the head of this regiment, astride an elfin steed of fine breeding, was the king. Or rather the Lord.
They were marching to the enemy, a certain rat of a human, and also to the Heiress of the throne.
Hundreds were marching.
Hundreds.
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:: looks up from banging her head into her desk. Her eyes are swirly for a moment then she blinks and shakes her head.:: Sorry, so so so sorry for the bum sucking short chapter but I think one of my muses went and had to die on me. I'm trying to resurrect it. :: starts banging head again.::
Joke: "For some reason, no one ever believes me when I tell them that I'm innocent" –Me
" Oh, I believe you." –Voice in my head.
"Don't patronize me." –Me
"Okay. You are a guilty, lying whore." –Voice.
"…. I asked for that, didn't I?" –Me
Meh, I feel so loved.
Advise: The even wonders of the world are, as I think them to be, To see, to hear, to touch, to taste, to feel, to laugh, and to love.
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