"The Birds and the Bees"~ for QuoteMe Challenge # 4

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

THE QUOTE: Charm is the quality in others that makes us more satisfied with ourselves.

MADE BY: Henri Frederic Amiel

                                     

“Napoleon Antony Devniolin Solo!!”

He knew he was in big trouble when his Aunt Amy used his confirmation name....one she knew he hated.  That was the name she chose for him, and as his sponsor, he couldn’t rightly argue with her. Napoleon’s birthday fell on his feast day, so technically that made Devniolin his patron Saint, but patron of what, no one ever told him.

The Abbot, also called Deiniol or Daniel the Younger, ruled Bangor Monastery in Wales, when King Aethelfrith of Northumbria slaughtered the two thousand monk residents. Peachy legacy...Napoleon thought. Why he couldn’t use just ‘Daniel’ was beyond him.

Luckily a confirmation name was a religious thing and not part of his legal name, the nom de guerre of Devniolin wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.  At least he hoped that would be the case. His first name he loved, though he took some ribbing at school until those responsible suffered his retaliation.

He came home with a black-eye for his trouble, upsetting his mother but pleasing his father for fighting back like a man...yeah right dad. His father Darius, with his military background was always lecturing him about being tough, though Napoleon never seemed to measure up to his father’s standards....that’s when his father was around. He usually wasn’t as he was traipsing around the world with mother, for some sort of military function, or what not.

.

“NAPOLEON!”  His aunt’s voice increased in volume.

“Yes, Aunt Amy. I’m up here,” he called down to her from a branch where he was perched in a rather large sycamore tree, the largest one on the Solo compound.

“Young man get down here this instant.”

“Yes ma’am,” he complied, jumping down to the ground landing on his feet, but falling forward to his hands and knees. He quickly stood up, brushing his hands together.

“What’s this I hear about you refusing to accompany Priscilla Wainwright to the cotillion next month?”

Napoleon lowered his young head, “Aw gosh do I have to Aunt Amy? Girls are so....girly.”

Amy dusted off her favorite nephews clothing, though her face looked pleasant, Napoleon knew she was miffed at him.

“Dearest, it’s part of growing up.  Girls aren’t so bad...I’m one, so is your mother, as are your sisters.”

“That’s different, girls...I mean other girls make me feel funny.”

She draped her arm across Napoleon’s shoulders as she escorted him back to the main house. Amy was in charge of the Solo brood while their  parents were off to Washington D.C. Some sort of military conference. Darius Solo insisted upon dragging his wife along with him. There was to be a big ball with the Vice President and Secretary of Defense in attendance and of course Darius needed his dancing partner for the soiree, following the conference. After Washington they’d be off to the Philippines.

“In what way dearest do they make you feel funny. Explain it to me?” Amy gently pushed for an answer.

“Funny like you know...” He turned beet red, with his eyes directed down to his crotch.

Amy tried not to laugh. “Napoleon, has your father had a talk with you about the birds and the bees yet?”

“Huh, birds and the bees?”

That response answered Amy’s question. Since Darius and the ‘little woman,’ as he referred to his wife would be gone for at least another month and a half, this situation wouldn’t do.  She’d have to take it upon herself to explain how things worked to her nephew, but she vowed to have it out with her brother when he returned, for neglecting his fatherly duties.

Amy prepared lunch for her five nieces and nephews and after they’d finished eating and cleaning up she shooed them all off to their rooms while she took her Napoleon for a walk along the water.

“Therese, you’re in charge dear, and Hannibal mind your sisters.”

The younger male Solo bearing a strong resemblance to Napoleon gave her a smile, not unlike his brother’s; reassuring his Aunt he’d behave himself, as best possible of course, for a boy being bossed around by three sisters.

The weather was beautiful in the Hamptons, with lots of sailboats gliding out on the water.  Amy looked around in the trees for any birds nests....something she could use as an example for nephew.

She found something else rather unexpectedly right at their feet, in the shade of the bushes was a pair of turtles, male and female Eastern Box Turtles to be precise, in the act of mating.  Amy quietly pulled Napoleon aside and carefully explained what was happening.

“Oh they’re having sex,” he blurted out, “If that’s what you meant about the birds and the bees, I know about that.”

“Oh...oh all right dear,” Amy stood up, perplexed as to what to do next. ”Then I’m confused when you’re describing that you were feeling funny...I assumed you were having erections, and getting excited about girls.”

“I am Aunt Amy, I was just embarrassed about it. My, well... ‘it’ seems to have a mind of it’s own.”

“Napoleon, do you know what the word libido means?” They continued now walking along the beach, abandoning the turtles.

“No not exactly. I guess since our discussion is about sex, then it has something to do with that.”

“Clever boy. Yes, it’s related to sexual desire... It’s not surprising as the Solo men have long been known for having very strong libidos.  You’re just discovering yours, dear heart.”

“So what should I do about it?”  Napoleon stuck his hands in his pockets; his feet shuffling along in the sand. ‘

“First, take your hands out of your pockets and stand up straight.  Good carriage and posture are important.  You already understand good grooming and proper attire.  At your age a little innocent exploration is understandable but...”

Amy went into such details that it made her nephew blush, though he listened intently. No one in his family spoke to him this way, treating him with respect and understanding, and talking to him like he wasn’t a kid.  To young Napoleon Solo, his Aunt Amy was the greatest thing since sliced bread, in fact he had a pet name for her, calling her his ‘bestest Aunt.”

The last words of advice she gave her young nephew, “Always be proud of yourself, do the best you can in everything you do...be positive. Be charming, witty, but remain respectful of women and they’ll adore you, and you’ll respect yourself as well. And I quote Henri Amiel, “ Charm is the quality in others that makes us more satisfied with ourselves. Never forget that Napoleon Solo.”

“I won’t Aunt Amy, I promise.”

“So now will you escort Priscilla to the cotillion?”

“With pleasure,” this time Napoleon flashed her a handsome smile.

“Ah yes the Solo charm is definitely there...“ Amy patted him on the back.

QuoteME: Challenge 4 -- Posting is Open!

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Just to remind folks that posting for QuoteME: Challenge 4 is open on section7mfu.

Please be sure and give your post a subject reflective of the challenge (including a title for the story itself). Do use the quoteme tag to identify your story. As a courtesy, please remember to place the majority of your story under a cut.

Posting for the challenge will be open until Saturday, August 24th.

QuoteMe: Challenge 4 -- HE CAN HANDLE IT

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Name: HE CAN HANDLE IT (excerpt from THE STICKING IN MUD AFFAIR)
Genre: GEN
Warnings: Mild Language
Length: approx 6900 words (including an approx 740 word plot-background supplying Author’s Note)



( Leap into the MUD under the cut )

For the QuoteMe - Deux

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Charm is the quality in others that makes us more satisfied with ourselves.
Henri Frederic Amiel
~~~~~:
I was inspired to present two stories for this challenge, one each for Napoleon and Illya.  First is the Napoleon story.

Pleasing In Every Way

Napoleon Solo scanned the room, his eyes landing on the hostess of this grand spectacle. Camilla Van Doren Wilde was reigning over the festivities much as a woman might who wielded great power, and to a degree she did have some, if knowledge were to be considered power.  The real power in this room belonged to her husband, Sir Richard Langley Wilde, however, and he was a member of THRUSH.

( deux pour vous... )