Good one, Plei. More "Fledgling" Munch POV
I swear, if I could, I'd find a desert island, just for me and the Princess. Except, you know, I can't, because desert islands are bright, so we would be the sexiest pile of dust the world's ever seen. But, when it's just us, things are almost perfect I do sometimes wish she'd be...more appreciative or something. Cause sometimes, in bed, we have this amazing time, which I'm just thrilled to have even the smallest part(in the metaphorical sense) in creating, and I'm just blissed out, and the look on her face is more like "That's nice. Any more champagne?" Like it was just her *due* or something. In the old days, I'm sure she had somebody just fetching her shuddering orgasms. Stableboy, ladies' maid, couturier, orgasm boy. It doesn't happen that way for the rest of us. I want to believe that we are special.(Although if you tell anybody, I'll hide behind the time she brought the twin darkhaired minions in. That was an entirely different kind of special.My God, one of them was a gymnast and...what were we talking about?) Ironically, meaning in sex. Somewhere, if my exes knew what I was going through, they would laugh. I would laugh too, if it wasn't me.

I know enough to know she isn't going to think I'm "the best she's ever had." Over three hundred years? Give me a break. And I know she's not going to scream out "John, you're the king," or anything, cause she's probably been with a king and I don't want her making those kinds of comparisons...It could only hurt me(although the part of me that never got out of ninth grade? Would like that very much.)

John, you're the king," or anything, cause she's probably been with a king

(choking to death)

The Munchkin invades my dreams now! That has got to stop...the connection is freakish enough.Really. And it also explains why I'm dressed like the Woman in Black today.Glad you thought that was funny, Deb, I chuckled writing it. ETA: Found the perfect song for Felton. Country, actually, my friend Steph used to love that stuff. And the B-side of "Achy Breaky Heart" was a song called iirc, "Where'm I Gonna Live When I Get Home" The chorus is totally Beau/Beth, cause it goes "She meant what she said/ When she wished I was dead./Where'm I gonna live when I get home?

Damn, that really is perfect Felton. It would have to be a country song for him, too.

OK. Drabble. This week has two themes - winter and steam - and I combined them. Unusual for me - this one's about Oz.

Soundtrack to a Season

It's the wrong time of year to be unconnected.

There's a full moon rising over the Himalaya this Christmas Eve, and he's lonely. The monks, knowing what they know, trusting him for 30 days of this, the longest and darkest month, have left the ancient stone building at the foot of Lhotse to the small white man. And the small white man is achingly tired of being alone.

As he waits for moonrise , he puts Peter Gabriel's "Us" in his Discman and dances to "Steam", remembering a redhaired girl warm in his arms, lying together in a warmer climate.

Drabble the second. Same theme: steam.

The Steam Room (no spoilers)

There's a woman in the Turkish bath.

The man in the towel, a stockbroker with an ulcer and a BMW, is entranced at first. It's one of those fantasies, going back to college: him, wearing only a towel, a beautiful woman there to service him, snaking a hand down, smiling, twitching the towel from his groin, her lips parting....

The woman is blonde, and very pale. Her lips are too red. He doesn't ask her name, but she tells him anyway, whispering: Darla.

The fantasy is suddenly very cold, as cold as her smile, and her teeth against his throat.

Aw, "The princess" nabs another victim.Bet he won't be the best, either.

Nah, just munching on a stockbroker. I love feral smiling Darla. when she gets on the hunt.

More from the Munchkin(He and Kay have such strong voices, I'm surprised I ever write for Frank N Tim)
I think about saying something, but there's a noise in the other room.
"What the devil is that?" Darla says. Sometimes she talks like she's in a woodcut or something. Of course, I think it's sexy.
"Probably Drusilla foraging for entrails," Sometimes it's easy to forget how my life has changed. But there are sentences that make me pay attention. That is definitely one. "I'll talk to her. She likes me."
"Because you spoil her rotten."
This may be true, but I feel like fighting about it anyway. And there is one gift we haven't exchanged, thanks to me. "Where's your rachmones, huh? She wouldn't even be in that position if you'd been able to keep your fangs in your mouth for five minutes!"
"That was two hundred years ago. Ancient history. I'm not going to argue this again."
"If I remember correctly, we've never finished arguing about it." I start off strong, but she works the Voice on me. I'm frickin' helpless against that. "Yes, but remember what we did instead?"And the laugh. Like tarnished jingle bells. I love it so much.And though she doesn't need to breathe, the gust of air against my ear, because in a homesick moment,I confessed I missed it. She wouldn't do that for just anyone, would she?
"I'm going to let you take me out tonight." Part of me knows I've lost something here, and tries to shake its fist and yell "Hey..." but for once I have no urge to rant.(I should know that is Very Bad for me, but for a minute it felt like health.)
"Are you going to wear the black thing with the cleavage?"
"You always ask about that dress," The Princess smiles. There are few things more beautiful than a Princess who gets her way.Unbidden, an image of Kay at her desk, chewing on a pen...this close to bringing in some perp comes floating to mind. Yeah, that was close. "Yeah, well," I lie, "I'm a simple guy."
-more-

"Darling," she says. "You're not a guy anymore. You have the power of life, and death, and immortality. Stop thinking of yourself in human terms."
"I can't get used to your terms. I don't want to be your childe, Darla."
And, at the risk of sounding like Dorothy with the ruby slippers, the power of life and death was something I had all along.As a man, I used it once. And I probably wouldn't have, if Pratt hadn't gotten both Kay and Stanley.It felt like he went after my life three ways.
After, I sickened myself by wishing I could take Kay one of his ears.Like a bullfighter or one of those rednecks I protested during Vietnam. I pictured her making a keychain of it.
But that was crazy, of course, so I didn't touch the head. I cleaned up perfectly and would have been above even suspicion from anyone if I hadn't forgotten which Greek place in Baltimore opens late on Friday.(In my defense, they are quite similar, both run by widows with gorgeous underaged daughters, who don't think I eat enough. The widows, not the daughters. The daughters ignored me with a completeness that is a synonym for "pang" or "ancient". I never forgot my age when I went for Greek food in Charm City.) It's the thought of that kill that keeps me from Vampire Instruction. Cause I thought up that mutilation with soul intact.
ETA: Imagery.

What I did this morning instead of work:

Xander liked to come out and sit in the bus sometimes. He liked the feel of that big steering wheel beneath his hands, even if he couldn’t actually drive anymore. He’d make “vroom vroom” noises and remember what it was like when the world wasn’t flat. He liked the silence, too. Sometimes, traveling with so many slayers could get to be a little overwhelming, what with the gossiping and the giggling and the occasional catfight. Well, the catfights were actually ok, or better than ok, especially the time when Candy from Oklahoma and El Paso Bridget got into it over who’d be the first in the shower. It wasn’t always all bad, but sometimes a man needed a break. He’d come out to the bus from time to time and sit and watch the sunset. Try to clear his head.

“What are you doing?” He looked up to find Andrew, the last person he wanted to see, pushing his way onto the bus and standing on the bottom step.

“I was trying to meditate.” Andrew’s eyes dropped briefly to Xander’s fly. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“I won’t take up much of your time. I…I have something for you.” Andrew held out a package wrapped in rainbow colored happy birthday paper.

“It’s not my birthday.” Xander bit back the “idiot.” The whole gift horse in the mouth thing.

“I know. It’s a Christmas present actually. This was the only wrapping paper I could find at the truck stop.”

“Why are you giving me a Christmas present? It’s not some demon summon-y thing or a magic eyeball?”

“You lost your eye fighting an evil misogynistic priest, you finally got back together with your one true love, whom you’d left at the altar, and then she was slaughtered protecting your ex-arch nemesis. You’re boyhood home got sucked into a gaping chasm, probably killing almost all of your friends and family. I thought you deserved a little treat.” Andrew was standing on the second step now, arm outstretched, offering Xander the gift with that silly expression that he sometimes got, half hero-worship, half something Xander would rather not think about. He couldn’t just let him stand there. He reached out, took the gift, and just pretended he didn’t notice Andrew’s little shiver when their fingers touched. “Open it.”

“Oh God, it’s not a magic eyeball, is it?” he whispered. It felt too heavy anyway. He had to admit there was nothing like tearing open a present, even from Andrew. “It’s a book. So not what I was expecting, but. . .” His breath caught a little as he looked at the beautifully bound volume in his hands. Deep rich leather with gold embossed lettering. “How did you do it?” He ran his hands down the spine, cracked open the cover and read the title page, The Amazing Adventures of the Invincible Anya Emmanuela Christina Jenkins.

“Do you like it? I figured she had a story worth telling.”

“I like it. A lot. Thank you, Andrew.” He smiled and actually meant it for the first time in a while. “So, what’s it about?”

“Well, I tried to find out everything about her that I could. You’d be surprised how many vengeance demons are on AIM. Apparently, it’s a good place to find clients. I could read it to you, if you want.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Xander handed the book back to Andrew and motioned for him to take the bank of seats just behind the driver’s.

“Where should I start?”

“Start from the beginning.” He stared straight ahead at the moon that was just rising over the top of the Motel 6 sign and listened to the sound of the pages turning.

“Chapter one. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, yet strangely off-putting girl, named Aud.”