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rainbowfic2023-07-13 02:24 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2023-07-13 02:24 pm
Twilight #9 [Heroes of the Revolution]
Name: Sweet Revenge
Story: Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Twilight #9 (Cluster)
Supplies and Styles: Frame + Seedbeads + Paint-by-numbers from bookblather (Firing Squads) + Life Drawing
Word Count: 671
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, though some talk in passing of firings squads/dystopian attitudes.
Notes: 1993; Ella Gabell & Clive Procter. (Two minor characters who I haven’t written here before. They are part of the Advisory Committee in the post-dystopian gov’t. I actually wrote this for a summer challenge involving a sweet-related bonus colour two years ago, but used the original prompt for something else, and only found this again now.)
Summary: Rebellion comes in all sorts of flavours.
Clive Procter lined up the Jelly Babies like soldiers on the desk and contemplated the result with scientific detachment.
“Hard at work, I see, sir,” said Ella, arriving beside him without warning. “What is this?”
Clive gave a faint smile and turned his head towards her. “More rationing restrictions lifted at last. They used to be my favourites once upon a time – though no doubt they will disappoint. Still, most of these are for my niece’s children and I daresay they’ll be less cynical.”
“They look like they’re lined up for the firing squad.”
Clive’s lips twitched. He took a step back to view the sweets. “Naturally.”
“I don’t think even Hallam ran to executing sweets,” said Ella, placing a large folder down on her desk. “Or did I miss something?”
“They’re purely frivolous,” Clive said, waving his hand in their direction. “What else would he have done with such things? Can’t have frivolity distracting everyone from work, can we?”
“Well, that and the long-term sugar shortage.” Ella moved her head but he saw he roll her eyes.
“You rebels are almost as bad sometimes,” Clive added distantly. “Too single-minded and serious.” He straightened up. “Oh – do help yourself, Miss Gabell.”
Ella, hardened rebel that she was, turned back, and paused. She wiped her hand on her jacket instinctively. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one. Not many sweets about in my day.”
“Much better for your teeth, of course,” agreed Clive. “Nevertheless, have one. Count it as further rebellion against Mr Hallam.”
Ella studied her potential victims. “Which do you recommend?”
Procter remembered standing in a sweet shop many years ago and a whole world away – or maybe it was only yesterday, despite everything that had come between. There had been rows of confectionary jars, filled with humbugs and bon-bons, bulls-eyes and toffees, chocolate and liquorice straws and sherbet, waiting to be bought for much-treasured farthings and ha’pennies. These Jelly Babies had cost pounds, but they’d come back down in time if things continued to stabilise.
“Find out for yourself,” Clive advised. “Trial and error, like any proper scientist.”
Ella picked up a green sweet. “Hmm, well. I suppose this is less likely to explode.”
“In your hands, who knows?” murmured Clive. Ella’s role in the resistance had been generally on the combustible side. He reached for a red Jelly Baby and carried out due sentence.
Ella swallowed her sweet. “Not bad,” was all she said, but she grinned.
“Frivolity accomplished and two miscreants disposed of,” said Clive. “Now I shall return to work forthwith. Is that the report on Higham Chemicals? The PM will need it and a summary before eleven. After that, I regret to inform you that you will have to attend the meeting with Mr Woodfield in my stead – Don’t swear.”
“I said nothing.”
“It is your usual response to any mention of his name.”
Ella opened up the files on her desk. “Yes. Talking of people who deserve the firing squad –”
“Not shooting him is part of this whole notion of trying to build things up rather than blow them down again.”
“You’re in a philosophical mood this morning.”
Clive shrugged. “No. Merely nostalgic, regretful, dyspeptic, and unhappily due at Leeds University at three this afternoon.”
“If you’re going now, what about these Jelly Babies?”
He pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved two thin card files. “Oh, have them. I fear you will need them more than I.”
“I promise I won’t kill Woodfield,” she said. “Go to Leeds and don’t worry. When you come back, I’ll find you something in exchange.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know what yet,” Ella said. “But you’re right. I need to work on this frivolity thing. We’ll see how it goes.”
Clive permitted himself a smile as he slid his papers into his briefcase and snapped it shut. He headed for the door, pausing to retrieve his coat and hat. She was always a quick learner in any field. “I look forward to discovering the fruits of your research.”
Story: Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Twilight #9 (Cluster)
Supplies and Styles: Frame + Seedbeads + Paint-by-numbers from bookblather (Firing Squads) + Life Drawing
Word Count: 671
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, though some talk in passing of firings squads/dystopian attitudes.
Notes: 1993; Ella Gabell & Clive Procter. (Two minor characters who I haven’t written here before. They are part of the Advisory Committee in the post-dystopian gov’t. I actually wrote this for a summer challenge involving a sweet-related bonus colour two years ago, but used the original prompt for something else, and only found this again now.)
Summary: Rebellion comes in all sorts of flavours.
Clive Procter lined up the Jelly Babies like soldiers on the desk and contemplated the result with scientific detachment.
“Hard at work, I see, sir,” said Ella, arriving beside him without warning. “What is this?”
Clive gave a faint smile and turned his head towards her. “More rationing restrictions lifted at last. They used to be my favourites once upon a time – though no doubt they will disappoint. Still, most of these are for my niece’s children and I daresay they’ll be less cynical.”
“They look like they’re lined up for the firing squad.”
Clive’s lips twitched. He took a step back to view the sweets. “Naturally.”
“I don’t think even Hallam ran to executing sweets,” said Ella, placing a large folder down on her desk. “Or did I miss something?”
“They’re purely frivolous,” Clive said, waving his hand in their direction. “What else would he have done with such things? Can’t have frivolity distracting everyone from work, can we?”
“Well, that and the long-term sugar shortage.” Ella moved her head but he saw he roll her eyes.
“You rebels are almost as bad sometimes,” Clive added distantly. “Too single-minded and serious.” He straightened up. “Oh – do help yourself, Miss Gabell.”
Ella, hardened rebel that she was, turned back, and paused. She wiped her hand on her jacket instinctively. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one. Not many sweets about in my day.”
“Much better for your teeth, of course,” agreed Clive. “Nevertheless, have one. Count it as further rebellion against Mr Hallam.”
Ella studied her potential victims. “Which do you recommend?”
Procter remembered standing in a sweet shop many years ago and a whole world away – or maybe it was only yesterday, despite everything that had come between. There had been rows of confectionary jars, filled with humbugs and bon-bons, bulls-eyes and toffees, chocolate and liquorice straws and sherbet, waiting to be bought for much-treasured farthings and ha’pennies. These Jelly Babies had cost pounds, but they’d come back down in time if things continued to stabilise.
“Find out for yourself,” Clive advised. “Trial and error, like any proper scientist.”
Ella picked up a green sweet. “Hmm, well. I suppose this is less likely to explode.”
“In your hands, who knows?” murmured Clive. Ella’s role in the resistance had been generally on the combustible side. He reached for a red Jelly Baby and carried out due sentence.
Ella swallowed her sweet. “Not bad,” was all she said, but she grinned.
“Frivolity accomplished and two miscreants disposed of,” said Clive. “Now I shall return to work forthwith. Is that the report on Higham Chemicals? The PM will need it and a summary before eleven. After that, I regret to inform you that you will have to attend the meeting with Mr Woodfield in my stead – Don’t swear.”
“I said nothing.”
“It is your usual response to any mention of his name.”
Ella opened up the files on her desk. “Yes. Talking of people who deserve the firing squad –”
“Not shooting him is part of this whole notion of trying to build things up rather than blow them down again.”
“You’re in a philosophical mood this morning.”
Clive shrugged. “No. Merely nostalgic, regretful, dyspeptic, and unhappily due at Leeds University at three this afternoon.”
“If you’re going now, what about these Jelly Babies?”
He pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved two thin card files. “Oh, have them. I fear you will need them more than I.”
“I promise I won’t kill Woodfield,” she said. “Go to Leeds and don’t worry. When you come back, I’ll find you something in exchange.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know what yet,” Ella said. “But you’re right. I need to work on this frivolity thing. We’ll see how it goes.”
Clive permitted himself a smile as he slid his papers into his briefcase and snapped it shut. He headed for the door, pausing to retrieve his coat and hat. She was always a quick learner in any field. “I look forward to discovering the fruits of your research.”