"The Oubliette part 5"~ for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge 3/18

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                                   


Napoleon stood by as his partner was moved from his bed to a gurney. At first the Russian protested such treatment, yanking his arm from the helping hand that was trying to steady him he slid from the side of the bed to the waiting conveyance.

Illya, vascillated from demanding to walk to a consiliatory request to a wheel chair, until he fianally resigned himself to riding downstairs on the stretcher where his chariot awaited him at the street level. There an U.N.C.L.E. ambulance was parked near the entrance to the hospital emergency room.

It was equipped with the standard equipment, a heart montior, an oxygen tank, and other medical equipment deemed necessary for the trip, all manned by trained emergency medical personnel from the Command.

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REMINDER -- Mood-Y: Challenge 2

[carabele.livejournal.com]

This is just a reminder that the second challenge in the Mood-Y series here on section7mfu swings into gear next month (posting April 12th through April 19th).

The mood for this second challenge is: CALCULATING.

The guidelines for Mood-Y: Challenge 2 can be found here.

[Still scratching my head a bit on coming up with something for this one myself... ;) I suspect the stories will prove rather interesting indeed.]

Siobhan for ficpic Tuesday 3/18

[dixiebelle2013.livejournal.com]

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He never even saw her approach, and yet suddenly she was there. She was young, fifteen or sixteen at the most, and there was a vague, ephemeral quality about her which Illya couldn't quite put his finger on, but which made her seem almost as if she were a sprite or pixie or another of the magical creatures said to inhabit this land.

"Who are you?" he asked her.

"Siobhan." Her voice was almost a whisper, and it had a lilt, an almost musical quality to it. "Come with me."

Transfixed, Illya seemed to have lost his power of free will as he followed her beckoning finger. The place she led him to was a castle, high on a cliff beside the sea. The uneven terrain leading up to its entrance seemed hazardous, yet Siobhan seemed to scale it effortlessly, and Illya found that, to his surprise, he was also able to do so.

The castle's walls were bleak and grey, and although it was still almost completely intact, Illya could tell that it had been built many years ago. Wordlessly, his mysterious visitor led the UNCLE agent down stairs that looked as if they might crumble beneath their feet at any minute. Down, down, even further down they went, until the Russian realized that he was standing in a dungeon beneath the castle.

Once his eyes became adjusted to the dark, Illya had to gasp in shock. Chained to the floor right beside him was a skeleton. From its size, he could tell that its owner had been very tiny and petite, little more than a child, and from the width of its pelvis, he knew that it was female. Right beside it was a much larger skeleton, this one belonging to a male.

"Who were they? What happened to them?" Illya demanded, but when he turned his head, he saw that Siobhan had completely disappeared, and he was all alone in the dungeon with the two skeletons. Badly shaken, he somehow made his way out of the castle and to the local authorities, where he reported his discovery.

Much later that evening, Illya was involved in an animated discussion with one of the locals at a neighborhood pub. "Twas the O'Connor castle ye seen, me boy," his companion told him. "Been there several hundred years, it has. Paddy O'Connor was a mean, cruel brute of a man. They say even the fairy folk was a' feared 'o 'im. One day 'e saw a local girl and lusted after 'er. Legend says 'er name was Siobhan, and she was only 'bout sixteen years old. Paddy asked 'er father for 'er hand in marriage. Scared ta death, the man was goin' to take 'is whole family and run away ta England wi' 'em. Night afore 'e was ta leave, Siobhan disappeared. Nobody ever saw 'er or Paddy O'Connor again. They say that castle is cursed, me boy. Best ye stay away from it from now on."

Illya was stricken with awe, and even felt honored in a spooky kind of way. It was me, he told himself. After all these years, it was me she chose to find her so that she could finally have a Christian burial. I cannot wait to tell Napoleon. He is not going to believe this.

Story Redux -- THE NOT-SO-SOLITARY WEEKEND AFFAIR

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Recently I was looking through my entries on section7mfu and noticed the story I did for the original inaugural challenge on fanfiction dot net, which then segwayed into the creation of Section VII, was not posted here on LJ.

Though the story is posted on my personal site as well as on ff.net, I thought I would post it here too just for archival history sake.

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Name:THE NOT-SO-SOLITARY WEEKEND AFFAIR
Genre: GEN
Warnings: None
Length: approx 640 words
Summary: Napoleon is about to be named North American CEA... if he can get through the customary security seclusion for the weekend prior to the announcement. So can Illya find a way to keep him from flying the coop?
TimeLine: Summer 1963




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Picfic Tuesday March 18, 2014: Queen's Knight

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

( The Story... )

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night - PicFic Tuesday 3/17/14

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

It was a dark and stormy night...

“Oh Napoleon.  You’re going to start off your report with that cliché?”  Illya shook his head as only he could, conveying both dismay and disapproval with the subtle movement.  Napoleon knew it well but decided to argue his point.

“Well, it was a dark and stormy night.  How else can I tell the reader if not by describing it as it was?’  He really shouldn’t have asked because now there was going to be an answer from his smart-aleck partner.

Illya considered for a moment, trying to remember that night in Ireland and the mission on which they had been helplessly marooned in a brooding old castle...

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