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Apr. 26th, 2003
Crossover Special
Apr. 26th, 2003 10:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
lederhosen.livejournal.com(Oops - posted this to the wrong journal)
Something inspired by the oh-so-annoying elves of Melanie Klegerman (not work-friendly). If you haven't seen that site already, you'll need to spend about 20 minutes browsing through it before this story will make any sense. Context of the following? God only knows.
*****
"Any last words, Miss Icebrook?"
Calair stared down at her, a long thoughtful look, and then raised her head and laughed out loud. "Why, yes. As it happens I do have a few things I want to say." She stepped up onto the block, flashing a dirty look at the executioner, and then glared around at the assembled tribe daring them to meet her eyes.
"You. All of you. You are not elves." There was an angry murmur from the crowd, but Calair continued, speaking over them. "You are fucking LAWN ORNAMENTS. Look at you! You over there with the spear. What the hell are you supposed to be? Some sort of warrior princess?" She snorted derisively. "Well, I guess you can't help being front-heavy. Looks like it runs in the family. But honestly girl, if you don't want the rest of your body bouncing up and down in sympathy when you fight, you *might* wear something that gives you some actual, you know, support? Or if you really want to flash your tits around then bloody well take that handkerchief off and be done with it."
She took a quick breath, and began talking again before anybody could interrupt. "Though God knows who you're showing them off for. I mean, look around you. Look at everybody else. You all have exactly the same breasts! Seen one pair, seen 'em all, if your taste runs to ridiculously-large-and-wobbly in the first place. Which mine doesn't. Besides, I don't know if you've noticed this, but there are NO MEN in your village! None!" Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sithen, still tied against the tree, his bound hands positioned awkwardly against the brim of his hat.
One voice near the back of the crowd raised in complaint, and Calair tilted her head to listen to the speaker. "What's that? Oh, yes, I forgot. You're aaaaall lesbians. Riight. Cute little lesbian girls, is that it? What's that I see at the back, a little... centaur girl? In chains? Oh, you're bondage lesbians. I should have bloody well guessed. Right."
Another intake of breath. "Centaur girl. Step forwards. If you can move in those chains, they must weigh all of, oh, five ounces. Now tell me, the one who put those chains on you... you ever do anything with her? Come on, you can tell Auntie Calair."
Silence. Calair turned round and stared malevolently at the rest of the crowd. "Hands up, anyone here who has ever had sex with another woman. Go on, anybody." A couple of hands slowly began to rise. "Hey! Did I say 'cuddling up against her vastly exaggerated bosom? Did I say 'resting my hand on her head'? No, I bloody well did not. I said sex!" She waggled her hips, taunting, as the hands lowered again. "I thought as much. Virgins, the lot of you!" She met Sithen's eyes, and he mouthed something at her; she nodded, ever so slightly, then turned on another member of the crowd.
"And another thing! Is that a vampire elf I see? No, don't hide behind your girlfriend, come out here. Show me those teeth! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, BITCH!" Her yell covered a sharp whirr as half a dozen sharp blades sprang out of the brim and immediately retracted again - and also covered the muffled "ouch" that followed. "What, what, WHAT in heaven's name were you thinking? What, elves are sexy and vampires are sexy so vampire elves must be twice as sexy? Maybe if you had some REAL TEETH! Have you ever bitten through somebody's throat? Well, I have, and let me tell you, it takes REAL TEETH! Sharp and white and backed by a bit of MUSCLE! Those pathetic things aren't even sharp enough to puncture your goddamn girlfriend's pouty lips, let alone tear through meat!"
The villagers were pressing closer to her now, some of them waving their weapons. Behind them, Sithen had inched his way to where Kanaye hung by his paws, and was stealthily sawing through the knots with Calair's scimitar. She hoped the blood on his hands wasn't anything too serious.
"You people make me SICK! Pathetic little mockeries of elves! Let's see whether you can stand up against a real elf! Come on, get your weapons, I don't care! Out here, I'll take the whole bloody lot of you just like this!" She hopped off the block and stalked out into the middle of the village square, eyes defying them; gradually they inched closer, knives and spears pointed towards her. Sithen had lowered Kanaye to the ground and, without fuss or noise, was leading him quietly into the jungle.
"You ready? On three, then. One!"
And her bonds fell to the ground as an eagle flapped skywards, shrieking mockingly at the crowd below.
Something inspired by the oh-so-annoying elves of Melanie Klegerman (not work-friendly). If you haven't seen that site already, you'll need to spend about 20 minutes browsing through it before this story will make any sense. Context of the following? God only knows.
*****
"Any last words, Miss Icebrook?"
Calair stared down at her, a long thoughtful look, and then raised her head and laughed out loud. "Why, yes. As it happens I do have a few things I want to say." She stepped up onto the block, flashing a dirty look at the executioner, and then glared around at the assembled tribe daring them to meet her eyes.
"You. All of you. You are not elves." There was an angry murmur from the crowd, but Calair continued, speaking over them. "You are fucking LAWN ORNAMENTS. Look at you! You over there with the spear. What the hell are you supposed to be? Some sort of warrior princess?" She snorted derisively. "Well, I guess you can't help being front-heavy. Looks like it runs in the family. But honestly girl, if you don't want the rest of your body bouncing up and down in sympathy when you fight, you *might* wear something that gives you some actual, you know, support? Or if you really want to flash your tits around then bloody well take that handkerchief off and be done with it."
She took a quick breath, and began talking again before anybody could interrupt. "Though God knows who you're showing them off for. I mean, look around you. Look at everybody else. You all have exactly the same breasts! Seen one pair, seen 'em all, if your taste runs to ridiculously-large-and-wobbly in the first place. Which mine doesn't. Besides, I don't know if you've noticed this, but there are NO MEN in your village! None!" Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sithen, still tied against the tree, his bound hands positioned awkwardly against the brim of his hat.
One voice near the back of the crowd raised in complaint, and Calair tilted her head to listen to the speaker. "What's that? Oh, yes, I forgot. You're aaaaall lesbians. Riight. Cute little lesbian girls, is that it? What's that I see at the back, a little... centaur girl? In chains? Oh, you're bondage lesbians. I should have bloody well guessed. Right."
Another intake of breath. "Centaur girl. Step forwards. If you can move in those chains, they must weigh all of, oh, five ounces. Now tell me, the one who put those chains on you... you ever do anything with her? Come on, you can tell Auntie Calair."
Silence. Calair turned round and stared malevolently at the rest of the crowd. "Hands up, anyone here who has ever had sex with another woman. Go on, anybody." A couple of hands slowly began to rise. "Hey! Did I say 'cuddling up against her vastly exaggerated bosom? Did I say 'resting my hand on her head'? No, I bloody well did not. I said sex!" She waggled her hips, taunting, as the hands lowered again. "I thought as much. Virgins, the lot of you!" She met Sithen's eyes, and he mouthed something at her; she nodded, ever so slightly, then turned on another member of the crowd.
"And another thing! Is that a vampire elf I see? No, don't hide behind your girlfriend, come out here. Show me those teeth! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, BITCH!" Her yell covered a sharp whirr as half a dozen sharp blades sprang out of the brim and immediately retracted again - and also covered the muffled "ouch" that followed. "What, what, WHAT in heaven's name were you thinking? What, elves are sexy and vampires are sexy so vampire elves must be twice as sexy? Maybe if you had some REAL TEETH! Have you ever bitten through somebody's throat? Well, I have, and let me tell you, it takes REAL TEETH! Sharp and white and backed by a bit of MUSCLE! Those pathetic things aren't even sharp enough to puncture your goddamn girlfriend's pouty lips, let alone tear through meat!"
The villagers were pressing closer to her now, some of them waving their weapons. Behind them, Sithen had inched his way to where Kanaye hung by his paws, and was stealthily sawing through the knots with Calair's scimitar. She hoped the blood on his hands wasn't anything too serious.
"You people make me SICK! Pathetic little mockeries of elves! Let's see whether you can stand up against a real elf! Come on, get your weapons, I don't care! Out here, I'll take the whole bloody lot of you just like this!" She hopped off the block and stalked out into the middle of the village square, eyes defying them; gradually they inched closer, knives and spears pointed towards her. Sithen had lowered Kanaye to the ground and, without fuss or noise, was leading him quietly into the jungle.
"You ready? On three, then. One!"
And her bonds fell to the ground as an eagle flapped skywards, shrieking mockingly at the crowd below.
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