fahye: (Default)
Fahye ([personal profile] fahye) wrote2005-07-29 10:44 pm

DRABBLE MEME

Yes! I have a free Saturday, so I'm finally going to do that drabble meme that everyone else did ages ago. I can do Good Omens, Harry Potter, any Milliways characters that you think I know well enough, Lost, a handful of anime fandoms...you people know what I do. Ask and ye shall receive. I'd prefer at least a pairing and an object/setting/theme/other prompt.

~

What do I do when I'm bored? I collect icons of my friends! Spurred by [livejournal.com profile] cyrulean's Kelsey-icon and the fact that I've spent the past few days getting hugely ahead of myself and planning my in-three-years-time trip around the world to visit all you crazies.

Obviously some of you don't believe in showing your real self online and that's understandable. But if you do have any icons of yourself, when you request your drabble, comment using the one you like best? Even if you have to upload it for a day, to give me time to save it, and then take it down.

Yes, of course I'm planning to stalk you all.

I kid. I just have a folder of icons called 'Friends' and it needs filling up.

~

Went for coffee and Chinese and general catching-up with [livejournal.com profile] not_in_denial and [livejournal.com profile] tairamika today, which was lovely :)
ext_21673: (mwahahaha)

numero uno! très bizarre

[identity profile] fahye.livejournal.com 2005-07-30 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
“Good man,” Jean insisted.

“As you say.”

“Truly retentive.”

“I’ve forgotten who we’re talking about.”

“Salt of the earth.” Jean waved his wineglass and Bérenger nodded gloomily.

“It’s a very odd thing to say about someone.”

“What?”

“Sodium…swimming pool. That word. I don’t know.”

“Chlorine.” Jean nodded, scowled, possibly trying for wise and ending up looking fierce.

“You’re so clever, Jean.”

“Retentive!”

“As you say. It hardly sounds flattering, in any case. Salt means that nothing can grow.”

“The earth retains its seeds?”

“I didn’t mean –”

“We shall put it down to the quirks of the British,” Jean said with finality.

Bérenger laughed through his nose, his mouth being occupied with bread.

“You have a strange laugh.” Jean squinted into the bottom of his glass, as though counting the few remaining droplets.

“Really?”

“I’ve always thought so.”

“How nice of you.” Bérenger beamed. Jean clapped him on the back a little too hard; his arm shot out and knocked over the salt and pepper shakers. The salt rolled, hexagonally and with clicking sounds, and then fell.

Jean clicked his tongue and watched as Bérenger fumbled to pick it up, and a few white grains fell directly onto the place where, in precisely one month four days and ninety-seven minutes, a herd of rhinoceros would trample them into the earth.