avery11: (Default)
 Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen


samovar


THE SAMOVAR AFFAIR

I

Alexander Waverly tried to light his pipe for the third time in as many minutes. As with both previous attempts, the sacred ritual was interrupted by the annoying beep that signaled an incoming telex.

“Blast. Is it too much to ask for a moment of world peace to allow me to light my pipe?” He blew out the match and began to read, muttering to himself as he scanned the coded message. His eyebrows rose and fell, rose and fell.

Never a good sign, those eyebrows, Napoleon Solo thought to himself. While he waited for the fate of the world to be decided yet again, he rose from the conference table, and poured himself a cup of much-needed coffee, wishing there were a way to jury-rig an intravenous drip. As meetings went, this was going to be a long one.

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avery11: (Default)
 Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”

 

Robert Frost- “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”


Notre Dame de Paris


A SNOWY EVENING


From their room on the fourth floor of the Hotel Saint Honore, Illya Kuryakin observed the snow-covered Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau with equanimity. It had been snowing since early morning, the first significant storm of the season, and although the snow had tapered off by mid-afternoon, the streets of Paris remained buried beneath a thick carpet of white. Traffic was non-existent, and the only sign of life on the street below was a lone man shuffling by on cross-country skis, his rucksack brimming with brightly wrapped presents. Orly-Paris Airport was closed until morning, their flight back to New York cancelled.

Ah well, Illya thought to himself, such are the vagaries of fate.

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avery11: (Default)
Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

Russian fairy tale

 ONCE UPON A TIME



He arrived at Olgino in the brutal heart of Winter, 1942, a pale, terrified child crammed into the back of a lorry along with thirty other prisoners sentenced to the gulag for various crimes against the State. The man seated on his left was a murderer, condemned to twenty years at hard labor for strangling his neighbor to death in a dispute over firewood. On his right, the dough-faced man who had dared to tell a joke about Stalin to a co-worker sobbed shamelessly, his tears freezing on his plump cheeks. Across from him, a prostitute, the lone woman in the group, mumbled to herself as she picked at her few remaining teeth. The other prisoners sat silent, numb with fear and cold; they had no tears left to shed.

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avery11: (Default)

Author: Avery11
Genre:
Gen


loggerhead turtle

ENDANGERED SPECIES

 

Napoleon Solo slipped out the door of their bungalow, wincing at the soft click of the mechanism as it closed behind him. He hoped the sound would not be sufficient to wake the exhausted Russian.

Barefoot, shirtless, and more than a little drunk, he padded along the cobbled path, past a half-dozen bungalows decorated in typical Barbadian style, their gingerbread eaves silhouetted dramatically against the night sky. A chorus of tree frogs, serenading one another in the branches of a nearby acacia, cut off abruptly as he passed. A mongoose, disturbed in the midst of its nightly hunt, slipped away unobserved.

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psychiatrist's office


Mind Games

 
Illya stepped quietly into the darkened room. His eyes, as they became accustomed to the change in the light, took in the richly carved desk in the far corner, the faded photograph of a young man in a burnoose prominently displayed upon its gleaming surface. An oriental vase filled with yellow asters stood guard beside the photograph. A phalanx of bookshelves lined one wall, and an antique persian rug in sun-bleached shades of red and blue brought a wash of color to the dimly lit room. Joshegan, Illya recalled idly. Snowflake pattern.

Please, Mr. Kuryakin.” Dr. Neville gestured toward the couch, a tufted monstrosity in dark green velvet that would have been at home in any Victorian drawing room. “Have a seat.”

Reluctantly, Illya took his place on the couch, pushing aside a pair of antique kilim pillows in the traditional Kazak style. “I wondered when you would get around to me,” he said.

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avery11: (flowers and moon on red)

Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen
written for Easter Egg Challenge 2014
 

 

Jellyroll Attacks!



Jellyroll Attacks!  

 

Napoleon Solo hummed as he strolled down the concrete steps to DelFloria's Cleaners. The bell above the door tinkled merrily as he entered. “Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking, and when she passes...”

Giuseppe DelFloria – one of seven nearly identical “Giuseppes” currently employed by UNCLE to screen customers approaching the secret entrance to the New York Headquarters – looked up. “Buongiorno, Signor Solo. You looking pretty chipper this morning. Gotta nice spring inna you step.”

The senior agent grinned back. “What's not to be happy about? The weatherman says it's going to be a gorgeous weekend.”

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Lullaby

5/1/14 11:38
avery11: (Kai cat)

Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen
For Eilidhsd, because I promised you a story.



l



Lullaby

Number 8,” the elderly desk clerk wheezed, handing Napoleon the key. “Last cabin on the left. That'll be $6.49.”

Napoleon handed over the cash and waited patiently while the man, hands gnarled with age, counted out the change.

Behind him, Illya paced restlessly, fingering the brochures on the “Things To Do in Central Maine” rack with disinterest, and watching the snow fall outside the lobby's bay window. “Is there anyplace to eat around here?” he asked.

Ay-yuh.”

He waited, but it appeared no further information was forthcoming. “Where?”

Well now –” The old man scratched his head. “– there's Connie's Diner. It's down the road a piece, next to the Bait and Tackle. Ay-yuh. Connie makes a nice fish chowdah on Tuesdays.”

That sounds perfect. Could you please give us directions?”

I could,” the man replied, “but 'twon't do ya no good.”

Why not?”

Diner's closed foah the wintah. Ay-yuh.”

Illya sighed.

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avery11: (basset hound)
Genre: Gen
(Posted in two parts due to LJ size constraints. This is Part 2 To read Part 1,  GO HERE)






a



Gehenna

(Part 2)

Once again, he seemed better in the morning, although his cheeks were flushed and he looked rather glassy-eyed. Napoleon seemed to possess an unnatural store of energy, practically bounding across Regents' Park, as though he couldn't wait to get to work.

“Why the hurry?” Illya called after him. “We are not due at Lilù until nine.”

“Time and tide, tovarisch. Time and tide.”

Illya fell back, his mind occupied with the residue he had discovered on the collar of Napoleon's discarded shirt that morning -- two perfect circles of dried blood. He had seen such a mark once before, as a young child wandering in the company of the Gypsies.

Strigoi.

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