So before I sign off for the night...
May. 7th, 2004 01:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonelybritBleh. Another exam from one of the lesser rings of hell. Drat.
Anyway. On the plus side, only three to go! **dance of joy**
A quick drabble for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
randyfangame in an attempt to make my brain vaguely solidify before attempting sleep.
Set sometime late Season 1, early Season 2.
Flames.
“Are you this is a good idea?” asked Cordelia for the tenth time.
Wesley simply gave her a look.
Before them, the pudding sat resplendent on its china platter. Cherries twinkled in the dim light, sultanas glistened like jewels, the sprig of holly proudly adorned…
No, thought Angel gloomily, his imagination caving under the strain, no, it doesn’t. It looks like a lump of coal, it’s sucking the light out of the room, it hit that platter like a cannonball when Wes upended the bowl earlier.
“I like my apartment,” Cordelia persisted, a damp tablecloth hovering anxiously in the kitchen doorway behind her. “Preferably unscorched and soot free.”
“Oh hush, I’m concentrating.”
Cautiously the lit match was lowered into the mug of nuked brandy.
Blue flames rushed out in a silent breath of fire, flecks of gold and amber flashing in the dark as Wesley hastily poured the living mixture over the desolate pudding. They washed over wizened raisins, currants glinting with the fire that danced and leapt over them, twisting and reaching. And then in a shimmer of heat they were gone, leaving only their silence behind them.
Angel gave a small smile.
“Nice.”
Anyway. On the plus side, only three to go! **dance of joy**
A quick drabble for
randyfangame in an attempt to make my brain vaguely solidify before attempting sleep.Set sometime late Season 1, early Season 2.
Flames.
“Are you this is a good idea?” asked Cordelia for the tenth time.
Wesley simply gave her a look.
Before them, the pudding sat resplendent on its china platter. Cherries twinkled in the dim light, sultanas glistened like jewels, the sprig of holly proudly adorned…
No, thought Angel gloomily, his imagination caving under the strain, no, it doesn’t. It looks like a lump of coal, it’s sucking the light out of the room, it hit that platter like a cannonball when Wes upended the bowl earlier.
“I like my apartment,” Cordelia persisted, a damp tablecloth hovering anxiously in the kitchen doorway behind her. “Preferably unscorched and soot free.”
“Oh hush, I’m concentrating.”
Cautiously the lit match was lowered into the mug of nuked brandy.
Blue flames rushed out in a silent breath of fire, flecks of gold and amber flashing in the dark as Wesley hastily poured the living mixture over the desolate pudding. They washed over wizened raisins, currants glinting with the fire that danced and leapt over them, twisting and reaching. And then in a shimmer of heat they were gone, leaving only their silence behind them.
Angel gave a small smile.
“Nice.”
