Apr. 8th, 2015

Apr. 8th, 2015 07:52 am
averygoodshot: (w/porthos)
[personal profile] averygoodshot
April 8 | Aramis's room

Aramis comes clean to Porthos. It may or may not go well.

none/PG
praiseandglory: (determined)
[personal profile] praiseandglory
Porthos tended to leave the act of attempting to drown one's feelings in wine to Athos, who had made such an art of it. But once in a while, especially when there was no one to fight, he didn't think twice about indulging. Today was definitely one of these days, with the news Aramis had just broken to him, and the conflicted feelings warring in his chest.

He ordered a bottle of wine, paid for it with some of the gold he had earned on Phryne's pirate ship, then commandeered a table at the back of the Smoking Room, intending to drink until things eased inside his lungs. The man who usually looked open to anything was staring vacantly at his table as he drank, and thought, a dark look on his features. If only Aramis had heard him, but he suspected that he had not, and that the final, inevitable separation would be all the more cruel for the time they might have here.

He had forgotten his hat in his friend's room, he realised distantly. He would go and retrieve it after he finished this bottle of wine. The hat wasn't going anywhere.

Apr. 8th, 2015 06:59 pm
aspeggysays: (Default)
[personal profile] aspeggysays
Three days after arriving at the Nexus Hotel, Peggy Carter went down to the edge of the island with a beach umbrella she'd taken from a beach in Spain, a brightly colored banner from the halls of Gondor, a broken lance picked up on the sidelines of a tourney at Camelot, a pot of paint from an elementary school in Alaska, and her most interesting acquisition, a needle gun that she'd traded for her usual sidearm on a space ship somewhere between Escobar and Beta Colony.

She fixed the pole of the umbrella firmly into the ground, attached the lance at right angles, and fixed the banner to this frame. The paint made a neat, rather small bullseye in the center of the banner, and she was ready.

Twenty paces across the smooth lawn, turn and fire. The projectile whizzed through the air, and when it hit the target, it broke open and dozens of razor sharp strands whirred and shrieked as they cut the banner of Gondor into shreds in a radius of about a foot and then disappeared into the vastness of space that surrounded the island.

Silence descended. A few streamers danced in the breeze where the bullseye had once been.

"Well," Peggy said. It wasn't often she was at a loss for words, and it only lasted for few seconds. "Why yes," she announced. "I'd trade my .45 for one of these any day."

She put the safety on with great care, re-holstered the weapon, and went to take a closer look at the damage.

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