A Little Drabble Do Ya - One Time Too Many
Aug. 6th, 2014 05:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
"Illya? You awake?"
( Read more... )"Illya? You awake?"
( Read more... )Napoleon chuckled as April grabbed him, then Illya in hugs.
"Quite the enthusiastic greeting, Mrs. Grauman. Oh good, I see the breakfast cart has already arrived."
April gave Napoleon a blank look.
"Mrs. who?"
Illya glanced over to Napoleon, who was looking concerned.
"I did warn you that the drugs the man gave her might have caused some short term memory loss."
The blond agent looked back to April.
"We have your marriage license if you would care to frame it. It is not legal, of course. He listed your name on it as your code name of Alice Danvers."
Vegas 1 - Vegas 2 - Vegas 3 - Vegas 4 - Vegas 5Ususally the 'Randomness' installments are half-drabbles based on lines or stanzas from a poem
but today it's a double-drabble prompted by:
"The House Of Dust: The half-shut doors through which we heard that music"
~Conrad Aiken
The half-shut doors through which we heard that music
Are so softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence.
The stars whirl out, the night grows deep.
Darkness settles upon us. A vague refrain
Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.
In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.
Where have we been? What savage chaos of music
Whirls in our dreams?—We suddenly rise in darkness,
Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.
We dream we are numberless sea-waves languidly foaming
A warm white moonlit shore;
Or clouds blown windily over a sky at midnight,
Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,
Or a singing sound of rain . . .
We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.
Perchance not to dream:
Napoleon tossed and turned as the dream returned again to haunt his sleep.
He rarely experienced them, unlike Illya who was taunted by them frequently.
It finally made sense why the Russian could fall asleep and the drop of a hat,
anywhere or anytime. His nightmares didn't allow him a restful nights sleep.
And now it was Napoleon's turn, making him even more sympathetic to his partner.
He recalled the words to a poem, but couldn't recall who'd penned it.
"In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep. Where have we been?
What savage chaos of music. Whirls in our dreams?—We suddenly rise in darkness. Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more."
That's what these assignments would do at times, the lingering tension and fear would come back in their dreams…
"Ah to sleep, perchance not to dream for once," Napoleon sighed, looking at his friend who was fitfully tossing and turning. Illya would never tell him the source of the dreams; they were his private torment.
Just as Napoleon had his tonight. Why couldn't his dream be of a moonlit beach...a beautiful woman in his arms?
He closed his eyes, willing to make it so...
If you've been following this little soap opera involving April and Illya, this is the interim chapter...
Previously it was
House of Monkeys
Moving In
Sorting Remnants
Seamless
:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:
The afterglow.
Lying next to April made Illya feel somehow at peace.
The lovemaking had been... exhilarating and satisfying.
Very satisfying.
So what, he wondered, was wrong?
Perhaps it was the fact that she was a junior agent, the trailblazing first female agent in the Command.
And he was her superior, second in line behind Napoleon for the top spot among all Section II personnel.
He had violated a very basic rule regarding relationships among their ranks.
He wondered what she might expect going forward.
Did he love April?
No.
He suspected that she not love him.
Tomorrow would tell.
The day after. What transpired during the previous night was now a stark reality, and April Dancer awoke with a lump in her throat that wasn’t likely to go away.
Illya was still sleeping as April slid silently from their bed.
The bed.
( Read more... )