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witticasterNone of it as good as the first two lines, and I haven't worked on it since I started it, but I do want to work on it in the future, and maybe in the future, I will. Until then, Daria/Temeraire crossovers.
Miss Quinn Morgendorffer has known what to expect from her life since she was old enough to be conscious of expectations. It's a trade of sorts: if she practices her pianoforte and works really cute needlework and doesn't read those weird books by Mary Wollstonecraft like Daria does, then she'll make a good match and marry a total hottie. (Daria isn't going to do too badly herself, if she doesn't chase away her one suitor in all of Devonheavenshire; Mr. Lane seems quite taken with her, to hear his sister Jane talk, and he's not unhandsome, even if he isn't really Quinn's kind of cute. Mother seems quite agreed with Quinn that he is Daria's one and only chance, though, and Daria's tendency to be mean to everyone in the name of being Right with a capital R might very well spoil it.)
All her expectations have not prepared her for this moment, however, standing in the center of a smelly old barn, of all places, staring down a shining dragon's egg, huge and slowly cracking.
She wouldn't even have come, except that the man in uniform (a bottle-green colour that wasn't doing anything for his complexion) said she and Daria both had to, which Mother hadn't liked for the 'had to' part, but she thought they both should do their duty to England. Before they were stuck with doing their duty, they'd successfully convinced Mother to make Father buy Quinn a new silk dress and Daria common sense (that was what Daria had said she wanted, anyway, though Quinn doesn't see how she expects to buy it any more than you can buy a fashion sense), so at least the afternoon wasn't a total waste.
So Quinn stood next to Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany, as far away from Daria and her friend Jane as she could manage, and they debated the merits of wearing bandeaux and who they were going to dance with at the ball the Taylors were throwing that Saturday. If Quinn pretended they were in the Griffiths' sitting room instead of out ruining their slippers in the hay and the muck, it was almost like their usual fashion circle instead.
All that changed when the man in the bottle-green coat stood in front of them and shushed them all for behaving like so many chickens in a henhouse, which wasn't a fair comparison at all, because chickens wouldn't mind standing around in the dirt all day. He explained the problem: that all the potential captains for this dragon were too far from Devonheavenshire to arrive in time for the egg's hatching, and so one of them must take on this role for the greater good of England.
"Surely some guy should be doing this, and not one of us," said Sandi, crossing her arms in front of her empire-waisted dress. "I hope you know you interrupted a very important meeting for this little occasion."
They were all sworn to secrecy then (and a fat lot of good that did, Quinn thinks, because you can't trust Sandi not to tell a secret if she thinks she'll get something out of it), and it turned out that some dragons won't even take captains who aren't girls. Daria looked really smug when the man said so, and muttered something to Jane, but Quinn was too far away to hear. Usually she doesn't care what Daria thinks about things, or at least not when it comes to things Quinn's interested in, but she has the feeling that Daria has a better idea about these girl-only dragons than anyone else in the barn. Including the man in green.
And then they all stood around, waiting for it to hatch already. Sandi's been tapping her foot and making sighing noises since they started, which is really starting to get on Quinn's nerves. Tiffany is staring off into space like she's wondering yet again whether she should wear a bonnet or a capote to Brooke's walking party next week; Stacy just looks nervous. Quinn stares at the egg, with its pretty blue shell and speckles of orange, looking like an enormous gemstone; if they made them smaller, Quinn would totally wear something like that, maybe as a brooch. Maybe she could make Jamie White buy her one.
The egg starts making louder cracking noises, like it's ready to explode and show off the dragon inside, and the man in the bottle-green coat says, "Now remember, girls, the dragon's to be called Pulchellus if it's male and Pulchella if it's female."
Those are the worst names Quinn has ever heard. If she has to adopt some dragon, it should at least have a really cute name. Before she has time to think of one, there's a hole in the top of the egg, and a little blue head is sticking out, blinking orange eyes at the world. The rest of it follows swift after, and then there's only a shiny dragon with wings trailing behind it on the ground and bits of eggshell stuck to its body.
The man in the bottle-green coat thrusts a harness of leather straps into Jane's hands, and she takes a step toward the dragon. "Hey."
Miss Quinn Morgendorffer has known what to expect from her life since she was old enough to be conscious of expectations. It's a trade of sorts: if she practices her pianoforte and works really cute needlework and doesn't read those weird books by Mary Wollstonecraft like Daria does, then she'll make a good match and marry a total hottie. (Daria isn't going to do too badly herself, if she doesn't chase away her one suitor in all of Devonheavenshire; Mr. Lane seems quite taken with her, to hear his sister Jane talk, and he's not unhandsome, even if he isn't really Quinn's kind of cute. Mother seems quite agreed with Quinn that he is Daria's one and only chance, though, and Daria's tendency to be mean to everyone in the name of being Right with a capital R might very well spoil it.)
All her expectations have not prepared her for this moment, however, standing in the center of a smelly old barn, of all places, staring down a shining dragon's egg, huge and slowly cracking.
She wouldn't even have come, except that the man in uniform (a bottle-green colour that wasn't doing anything for his complexion) said she and Daria both had to, which Mother hadn't liked for the 'had to' part, but she thought they both should do their duty to England. Before they were stuck with doing their duty, they'd successfully convinced Mother to make Father buy Quinn a new silk dress and Daria common sense (that was what Daria had said she wanted, anyway, though Quinn doesn't see how she expects to buy it any more than you can buy a fashion sense), so at least the afternoon wasn't a total waste.
So Quinn stood next to Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany, as far away from Daria and her friend Jane as she could manage, and they debated the merits of wearing bandeaux and who they were going to dance with at the ball the Taylors were throwing that Saturday. If Quinn pretended they were in the Griffiths' sitting room instead of out ruining their slippers in the hay and the muck, it was almost like their usual fashion circle instead.
All that changed when the man in the bottle-green coat stood in front of them and shushed them all for behaving like so many chickens in a henhouse, which wasn't a fair comparison at all, because chickens wouldn't mind standing around in the dirt all day. He explained the problem: that all the potential captains for this dragon were too far from Devonheavenshire to arrive in time for the egg's hatching, and so one of them must take on this role for the greater good of England.
"Surely some guy should be doing this, and not one of us," said Sandi, crossing her arms in front of her empire-waisted dress. "I hope you know you interrupted a very important meeting for this little occasion."
They were all sworn to secrecy then (and a fat lot of good that did, Quinn thinks, because you can't trust Sandi not to tell a secret if she thinks she'll get something out of it), and it turned out that some dragons won't even take captains who aren't girls. Daria looked really smug when the man said so, and muttered something to Jane, but Quinn was too far away to hear. Usually she doesn't care what Daria thinks about things, or at least not when it comes to things Quinn's interested in, but she has the feeling that Daria has a better idea about these girl-only dragons than anyone else in the barn. Including the man in green.
And then they all stood around, waiting for it to hatch already. Sandi's been tapping her foot and making sighing noises since they started, which is really starting to get on Quinn's nerves. Tiffany is staring off into space like she's wondering yet again whether she should wear a bonnet or a capote to Brooke's walking party next week; Stacy just looks nervous. Quinn stares at the egg, with its pretty blue shell and speckles of orange, looking like an enormous gemstone; if they made them smaller, Quinn would totally wear something like that, maybe as a brooch. Maybe she could make Jamie White buy her one.
The egg starts making louder cracking noises, like it's ready to explode and show off the dragon inside, and the man in the bottle-green coat says, "Now remember, girls, the dragon's to be called Pulchellus if it's male and Pulchella if it's female."
Those are the worst names Quinn has ever heard. If she has to adopt some dragon, it should at least have a really cute name. Before she has time to think of one, there's a hole in the top of the egg, and a little blue head is sticking out, blinking orange eyes at the world. The rest of it follows swift after, and then there's only a shiny dragon with wings trailing behind it on the ground and bits of eggshell stuck to its body.
The man in the bottle-green coat thrusts a harness of leather straps into Jane's hands, and she takes a step toward the dragon. "Hey."
no subject
on 2010-08-22 03:33 am (UTC)