19 - More potassium than DMil's banana
*waves to everyone who is still around*
It's great to still see people prompting and writing :) We may have lost a few people on the way but we also had some new intake. Thanks for keeping this place alive!
Let's hope that conference season and the next election will help to pick up the pace a bit.
The ususal stuff:
1) All fills for prompts of ( Read more... )
It's great to still see people prompting and writing :) We may have lost a few people on the way but we also had some new intake. Thanks for keeping this place alive!
Let's hope that conference season and the next election will help to pick up the pace a bit.
The ususal stuff:
1) All fills for prompts of ( Read more... )
Then
The bright red slash of lipstick is the first thing he notice about her. And then he notices her bright red dress and how she's watching Clegg with the same hunger as the entire nation seems to. Someone steps between the two of them, and in that split second she's gone and he's pressing the flesh with everyone he's suppose to.
The next time he sees her, he's standing on the platform in his constituency and she's changed subtly. Her lipstick is darker, and the dress she's wearing is a deep blue and she's looking at him with hunger. And with something else he can't place. He's hustled out of the town hall and into a car as soon as the results have been announced.
He doesn't see her again until most of the results have come in, and he realises that he has two options - neither of which was particularly palatable - either he had to woo Clegg or attempt to run the country with a minority government. Her dress had lightened to green and her lipstick picked up an orange undertone, but it was unmistakably her, and he turned back to trying to work out what the sacred cows were for the negotiations with a little more - unexpected - confidence
It's not until he goes to the Palace that it fully registers there's something odd going on with her. She's drapped - artistically - over one of the couches he's fairly sure are supposed to be purely for display and one of the crowns of state is balanced on her head.
The Queen laughs when he fails to keep his eyes from widening, and a gesture from her sends everyone else scurring from the room, even as the unnamed woman sits up, the crown slipping back on her head.
"So you do see her. Good. It's been a while since one of you did." She turned her head. "Britannia, make your bow to your new prime minister."
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The not-woman's mouth snapped shut, and she rose to her feet, one hand balancing the crown on her head, and then, when it was steady sank into a deep curtsy that she held. His eyes flicked to the Queen, the corner of whose lips were twitching suspiciously.
"She's your dance partner, Mister Cameron, for as long as you can hold your government together." He can only blink in response, before stepping forward and raising Britannia from her curtsy. She flowed into his arms in response.
"My advice would be that you practice your poker face, Mister Cameron. And to check who else in your cabinet can see her - I would rather not have to intervene when they attempt to section you for talking to yourself. Now go and form my government."
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Now
"I HATE YOU!" he rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate his incipient headache. He was also scrambling to figure out exactly who was screaming at him and why they were doing so at such a god-awful hour in the morning. The voice was slightly muffled, but too high-pitched to be an angry George and Nick tended to slip into one of his other languages when his emotions ran high.
He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and wished again that he was sharing his bed with someone (and preferably someone who either didn't see Britannia or was better at handling her than he was) and then the modality in the voice registered.
"What's wrong now, Britannia?"
"Caledonia is going to leave me, and it's all your fault." She was holding a document he recognised from his red box of the night before. He flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He counted to 10 in his head, and wondered if Clement Attlee had had as much a problem with Britannia's abandonment issues, or if this was somehow Blair's fault. He never had asked the Queen how long it had been since one of her prime ministers had been able to see Britannia.
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