[Wild Roses] the other side
Title: trouble talking
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Takashi
Prompt: 07C "vanilla"
Word Count: 264
Notes: Next in the sequence, likely to be expanded at some point.
He's a seven, at the moment, and moderately young for it.
The actually difficult bit, in anything of this sort, was to be plausible.
Especially after one'd got into the big corked jar in the back of the pantry that smelled of alcohol and orchid pods.
Mostly because it was full of alcohol and orchid pods, the kind with teeny tiny black seeds that got stuck in one's teeth and tickled one's tongue so badly that one almost pinched the housekeeper while wearing the head butler's face. Thinking past sugar-alcohols and tiny seeds was an interesting pastime all its own.
Maids made for a better game than the housekeeper, really--the one with the freckles and the spark in her eye'd slapped the footman she thought had palmed her hip in passing--because so far's one could tell, the housekeeper kept her sense of humour in a box at her bedside, taken out only in tiny doses and for special occasions besides.
She didn't take well at all to discovering half a pod in her hair. Possibly one should try trickling alcohol into her shoes or her collar, see how long it took everyone to notice where the weight of smell was coming from.
Or splash it over the footman who thought he was too good to help with the rugs, see how fast the cook descended on him and started screaming about her good extract, did he have a clue how expensive the pods were, agk and the desserts were far poorer without it, and the ambassador was arriving tomorrow and what would they do to make up for the--
Ambassador?
Ambassador.
This could be fun.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Takashi
Prompt: 07C "vanilla"
Word Count: 264
Notes: Next in the sequence, likely to be expanded at some point.
He's a seven, at the moment, and moderately young for it.
The actually difficult bit, in anything of this sort, was to be plausible.
Especially after one'd got into the big corked jar in the back of the pantry that smelled of alcohol and orchid pods.
Mostly because it was full of alcohol and orchid pods, the kind with teeny tiny black seeds that got stuck in one's teeth and tickled one's tongue so badly that one almost pinched the housekeeper while wearing the head butler's face. Thinking past sugar-alcohols and tiny seeds was an interesting pastime all its own.
Maids made for a better game than the housekeeper, really--the one with the freckles and the spark in her eye'd slapped the footman she thought had palmed her hip in passing--because so far's one could tell, the housekeeper kept her sense of humour in a box at her bedside, taken out only in tiny doses and for special occasions besides.
She didn't take well at all to discovering half a pod in her hair. Possibly one should try trickling alcohol into her shoes or her collar, see how long it took everyone to notice where the weight of smell was coming from.
Or splash it over the footman who thought he was too good to help with the rugs, see how fast the cook descended on him and started screaming about her good extract, did he have a clue how expensive the pods were, agk and the desserts were far poorer without it, and the ambassador was arriving tomorrow and what would they do to make up for the--
Ambassador?
Ambassador.
This could be fun.