Author: Elf Asato
Written: June 22, 2005
Summary: Jezebel reminds Lord Gladstone of winter.
Disclaimer: Like hell.
Notes: This is pointless and has no meaning other than to celebrate June as Lord Gladstone month.
Winter
By Elf Asato
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"You know, Jezebel," Lord Gladstone drawled as he did his customary harassing of Death, "I simply adore your hair. It's like off-white snow to me."
Jezebel instinctively toyed with a random curl but said nothing in response as he sat opposite the man in an oversized chair. He never felt comfortable with Gladstone when they met away from the comfort and safety of Delilah.
"And your eyes..." Here Lord Cassandra Gladstone leaned forward to touch Jezebel's cheekbone. Perhaps he was used to it because the man didn't even flinch. The High Priest smirked. "They're like the ice that covers the rooftops and sidewalks of London and makes old men slip and break their ankles."
This time Jezebel's hand flew up to his mouth as he struggled in vain to stifle the beginnings of laughter. "C-Cassandra, honestly, that wasn't funny. Father could have gotten seriously injured."
"Oh don't lie to me, my darling Jezebel, and say you didn't enjoy the old man's fall. I saw you trying damned hard not to laugh when it happened."
"It was an involuntary reaction, you know, as a result of sudden stress like that. It's very common, you see, so I wasn't necessarily laughing at the Cardmaster, per say... I was laughing in mortification," Jezebel explained, as if trying to wipe out footprints in the snow, as he tried to kill any remaining thoughts of laughter. It didn't work very well because a few seconds later he gave into a spell of nervous laughter.
Gladstone caressed Death's lips that quivered vaguely. "Are you mortified now?"
"...Very."
