Fic: ‘Tis the Season: The truth of a gift?
Title: ‘Tis the Season: The truth of a gift?
Fandom: Grimm
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Before season 5.
Summary: A gift is given.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I have no words. None.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Stephen Carpenter and David Greenwalt & Jim Kouf; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
He regards the parcel on the table quietly, thoughtfully. “You sure about this?”
“Open it!”
“All right,” he mutters and tears the paper away. “You thought of this?”
“Yes! All by myself!” She adds, a little peevishly. “Surprise!”
“It certainly is.” He peers at the silver pot closely. “You really sure?”
“Yes!”
He slowly lifts his hand, resting it on the lid before lifting it and the scent of roses wafts toward him. He grins as he lifts a white dusted pink piece of sugar and he sniffs it briefly before he suddenly pauses.
“This isn't Narnian, is it?”
“Narnian?”
“From Narnia,” he expands, still holding the piece in his fingers. Gingerly, now.
“No!” She exclaims. “It's just Turkish delight.”
“The White Witch had Turkish delight.”
“Narnia isn't real.”
“How do I know that as a certainty? It could be.”
“It's. Not. Real.”
“I'm a big, bad wolf. You’re a fox. So who's to say Narnia isn't real?”
Her face falls into her hands and she shakes her head. “Narnia was only in a book. It isn't real.”
“If you say so ...”
A thought occurs. “How do I know you aren’t the wolf, Maugrim?”
He pops the lolly in his mouth, gesturing at his chewing. She shakes her head at him … and waits.
Fandom: Grimm
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Before season 5.
Summary: A gift is given.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I have no words. None.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Stephen Carpenter and David Greenwalt & Jim Kouf; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
He regards the parcel on the table quietly, thoughtfully. “You sure about this?”
“Open it!”
“All right,” he mutters and tears the paper away. “You thought of this?”
“Yes! All by myself!” She adds, a little peevishly. “Surprise!”
“It certainly is.” He peers at the silver pot closely. “You really sure?”
“Yes!”
He slowly lifts his hand, resting it on the lid before lifting it and the scent of roses wafts toward him. He grins as he lifts a white dusted pink piece of sugar and he sniffs it briefly before he suddenly pauses.
“This isn't Narnian, is it?”
“Narnian?”
“From Narnia,” he expands, still holding the piece in his fingers. Gingerly, now.
“No!” She exclaims. “It's just Turkish delight.”
“The White Witch had Turkish delight.”
“Narnia isn't real.”
“How do I know that as a certainty? It could be.”
“It's. Not. Real.”
“I'm a big, bad wolf. You’re a fox. So who's to say Narnia isn't real?”
Her face falls into her hands and she shakes her head. “Narnia was only in a book. It isn't real.”
“If you say so ...”
A thought occurs. “How do I know you aren’t the wolf, Maugrim?”
He pops the lolly in his mouth, gesturing at his chewing. She shakes her head at him … and waits.