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Um, yeah. Not a drabble. Might be too short to be a ficlet at 219 words (I'm a bit fuzzy on the definition of "ficlet")...so, anyway, it's a thing. Enjoy!
Title: New Pet
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG
Words: 219
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower.
Written for: More "inspired by," really: the "furry" challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spillyria.
Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble, but who am I to argue when the Muse takes an idea and runs with it?
Hungry. Cold. Scared. Tired.
Illyria looked up from dismembering the demon. "Half-breed. What is that?"
"What's what, Blue?" Spike asked.
"You do not hear that?" She stalked through the alley, hunting for the small voice that had dared to invade her consciousness. Her hand darted down and snatched up a tiny, shivering bundle of fur that, nevertheless, struggled feebly, hissing and spitting. "What is this creature?"
Spike's lips twitched. "It's a kitten."
"I could destroy it with a snap of my fingers, and yet it fights." She held it in front of her face, and a claw caught her across the nose, drawing blood. "It is helpless, and yet it has spirit."
"We help the helpless, luv. Want to take it home?"
Her eyes glittered. "I would enjoy that." She tucked the little cat under her arm, where it snuggled into the crook of her elbow.
Warm. Nice. Sleepy.
The purring startled her momentarily, but she soon determined that the noise portended no harm. They stopped at a grocery store for supplies. Back at the apartment, Spike sprawled, grinning, in his armchair, watching her watch the kitten play with a woolly mouse. And he reflected that giving her something new to be interested in might at least grant him a momentary break from being pummeled on a daily basis.
Title: New Pet
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG
Words: 219
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower.
Written for: More "inspired by," really: the "furry" challenge at
spillyria.Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble, but who am I to argue when the Muse takes an idea and runs with it?
Hungry. Cold. Scared. Tired.
Illyria looked up from dismembering the demon. "Half-breed. What is that?"
"What's what, Blue?" Spike asked.
"You do not hear that?" She stalked through the alley, hunting for the small voice that had dared to invade her consciousness. Her hand darted down and snatched up a tiny, shivering bundle of fur that, nevertheless, struggled feebly, hissing and spitting. "What is this creature?"
Spike's lips twitched. "It's a kitten."
"I could destroy it with a snap of my fingers, and yet it fights." She held it in front of her face, and a claw caught her across the nose, drawing blood. "It is helpless, and yet it has spirit."
"We help the helpless, luv. Want to take it home?"
Her eyes glittered. "I would enjoy that." She tucked the little cat under her arm, where it snuggled into the crook of her elbow.
Warm. Nice. Sleepy.
The purring startled her momentarily, but she soon determined that the noise portended no harm. They stopped at a grocery store for supplies. Back at the apartment, Spike sprawled, grinning, in his armchair, watching her watch the kitten play with a woolly mouse. And he reflected that giving her something new to be interested in might at least grant him a momentary break from being pummeled on a daily basis.
