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feng_shui_houseAvon and Morticia in the Elevator/Lift from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sallymn's recent character meme result. (737 words, gen with hints of past slash)
"So, Vila was right, there is a hell." Avon was standing, gun in hand, blood-spattered leathers dripping at intervals on the polished steel floor of an all-steel Old Calendar lift that would have made Sarkoff go into rhapsodies. Avon found it claustrophobic and narcissistic. There was a door, but there was also a red light flashing 'out of order'. Typical.
His multiple reflections were paired with the reflections of the woman standing beside him. He'd almost shot her out of instinctive reaction to 'feral but beautiful female with black hair and slinky black gown', futile though the action would undoubtedly be. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that her hair was extremely long.
"Oh, no, darling, this isn't hell." She reached out with long, sharp nails and patted him on the shoulder. Avon managed not to flinch. "This is Limbo, a balance point, for those who require personal classification." She smiled and again Avon managed not to flinch. Human canines simply aren't that long and pointed. "The automated systems just can't define everyone."
"Inept programmers," Avon remarked. "They always blame the system." Avon glanced at her. "And what are you, a demon?" An expression of mild displeasure crossed her face, and he added, "I'm not conversant with archaic terminology." He gave her his best tooth-baring grin-- two can play at being feral. "If I've caused any offense..."
"You're so sweet, darling." She patted him on the head. "My name is Morticia Addams and no, I'm not a demon. Since my children sprouted their own wings and flew off, I've been fighting Empty Dungeon Syndrome by returning to work. I'll be your guide to the afterlife. We used to rip out your heart and weigh it on a scale against a feather, but the new hygiene rules outlawed it." She sighed.
"No one believes in tradition these days."
"Exactly! No, nowadays it's all personal recommendations and interviews."
"Personal recommendations?"
"Oh, yes, you'd be amazed how many people in heaven and hell spoke up for you on one side or the other. Anna and Servalan..."
"Servalan's dead? Who killed her?"
"No one, actually. She caught a cold while wearing a ball gown in the arctic, and it turned to pneumonia just like that!" Morticia snapped her fingers, and little green sparks shout out.
"What a pity. I wanted to kill her myself."
"She is very attractive, isn't she?"
Avon didn't bother to reply.
"You shot Anna."
"Does that give me marks for heaven or hell?"
"Well, it depends on who's doing the counting, darling." Morticia waved a hand languidly, black fluttery shreds flying off the end of her sleeve. "I find it terribly romantic." She sighed again. "How many lovers have you killed, Avon?"
"Well, now, let me see.... Anna, of course. And then there was Tynus..."
Morticia nodded. "Redheads. They're always such fun to kill. Was it bloody?"
"More... electrifying. I take it they all recommended hell for me."
"Not Servalan. She said you'd hate heaven, so you ought to be sent there. Such a charming woman. And very good with stilettos."
"But most of them did say I belonged in hell."
Morticia nodded.
"So why the need to judge me?"
"Well, you see, a vote in heaven counts for much more."
Avon closed his eyes wearily. "Don't tell me."
"Blake still feels you are redeemable. You have a remarkable effect on your lovers, don't you, darling?"
Avon opened his eyes and looked at her. "Good technique. So, have you decided? Does the lift go up or down?"
Morticia flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "It doesn't go anywhere at the moment. It's broken."
"Ah, well, let me have a look." Avon pulled out his laser probe and began prodding the controls. "Fairly simple... when was this thing last maintained?" Avon snapped the cover plate back on. The red light went out.
"It was only two thousand years ago." Morticia pointed out the inspection chart pasted to the wall.
Avon shook his head. Morticia looked at him for a long moment before leaning past him to push a button. The level was marked 'zero'.
"Where am I going?"
"I'm taking you to the Limbo employment office, Avon."
"Ah." Avon stared at the door as it shuddered and opened onto a very plain and formless corridor. He started walking, with Morticia at his side. "Can you tell me, what are the pay scale and benefits?"
sallymn's recent character meme result. (737 words, gen with hints of past slash)"So, Vila was right, there is a hell." Avon was standing, gun in hand, blood-spattered leathers dripping at intervals on the polished steel floor of an all-steel Old Calendar lift that would have made Sarkoff go into rhapsodies. Avon found it claustrophobic and narcissistic. There was a door, but there was also a red light flashing 'out of order'. Typical.
His multiple reflections were paired with the reflections of the woman standing beside him. He'd almost shot her out of instinctive reaction to 'feral but beautiful female with black hair and slinky black gown', futile though the action would undoubtedly be. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that her hair was extremely long.
"Oh, no, darling, this isn't hell." She reached out with long, sharp nails and patted him on the shoulder. Avon managed not to flinch. "This is Limbo, a balance point, for those who require personal classification." She smiled and again Avon managed not to flinch. Human canines simply aren't that long and pointed. "The automated systems just can't define everyone."
"Inept programmers," Avon remarked. "They always blame the system." Avon glanced at her. "And what are you, a demon?" An expression of mild displeasure crossed her face, and he added, "I'm not conversant with archaic terminology." He gave her his best tooth-baring grin-- two can play at being feral. "If I've caused any offense..."
"You're so sweet, darling." She patted him on the head. "My name is Morticia Addams and no, I'm not a demon. Since my children sprouted their own wings and flew off, I've been fighting Empty Dungeon Syndrome by returning to work. I'll be your guide to the afterlife. We used to rip out your heart and weigh it on a scale against a feather, but the new hygiene rules outlawed it." She sighed.
"No one believes in tradition these days."
"Exactly! No, nowadays it's all personal recommendations and interviews."
"Personal recommendations?"
"Oh, yes, you'd be amazed how many people in heaven and hell spoke up for you on one side or the other. Anna and Servalan..."
"Servalan's dead? Who killed her?"
"No one, actually. She caught a cold while wearing a ball gown in the arctic, and it turned to pneumonia just like that!" Morticia snapped her fingers, and little green sparks shout out.
"What a pity. I wanted to kill her myself."
"She is very attractive, isn't she?"
Avon didn't bother to reply.
"You shot Anna."
"Does that give me marks for heaven or hell?"
"Well, it depends on who's doing the counting, darling." Morticia waved a hand languidly, black fluttery shreds flying off the end of her sleeve. "I find it terribly romantic." She sighed again. "How many lovers have you killed, Avon?"
"Well, now, let me see.... Anna, of course. And then there was Tynus..."
Morticia nodded. "Redheads. They're always such fun to kill. Was it bloody?"
"More... electrifying. I take it they all recommended hell for me."
"Not Servalan. She said you'd hate heaven, so you ought to be sent there. Such a charming woman. And very good with stilettos."
"But most of them did say I belonged in hell."
Morticia nodded.
"So why the need to judge me?"
"Well, you see, a vote in heaven counts for much more."
Avon closed his eyes wearily. "Don't tell me."
"Blake still feels you are redeemable. You have a remarkable effect on your lovers, don't you, darling?"
Avon opened his eyes and looked at her. "Good technique. So, have you decided? Does the lift go up or down?"
Morticia flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "It doesn't go anywhere at the moment. It's broken."
"Ah, well, let me have a look." Avon pulled out his laser probe and began prodding the controls. "Fairly simple... when was this thing last maintained?" Avon snapped the cover plate back on. The red light went out.
"It was only two thousand years ago." Morticia pointed out the inspection chart pasted to the wall.
Avon shook his head. Morticia looked at him for a long moment before leaning past him to push a button. The level was marked 'zero'.
"Where am I going?"
"I'm taking you to the Limbo employment office, Avon."
"Ah." Avon stared at the door as it shuddered and opened onto a very plain and formless corridor. He started walking, with Morticia at his side. "Can you tell me, what are the pay scale and benefits?"
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Date: 2011-01-22 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 02:33 am (UTC)Avon,the Limbo computer tech. Well beats heaven or hell
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Date: 2011-01-23 02:48 am (UTC)Avon just doesn't fit in elsewhere-- heaven doesn't want him, and hell's afraid he'd take over. :^)
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Date: 2011-01-23 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 04:02 am (UTC)And Morticia just being Morticia :)
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Date: 2011-01-23 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 09:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 06:14 pm (UTC)I'm certain that Avon will love the job!
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Date: 2011-01-23 08:27 pm (UTC)