ONGOING
"Storm and Silence" fanfiction:
A collection of oneshot chapters from prompts suggested by the people on Tumblr. Prepare for some peculiar reads.
Prompt requests are CLOSED.
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DISCLAIMER: Most characters belong to Rob Thier, author...
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Hmm so for this one, I feel like this should have really been addressed at the beginning of book 5 since it had the setup. Of course, it didn't happen but it can happen in this prompt :) This oneshot is a rewrite of Hunting for Silence, Chapter 11: "Return of the Yellow Piggies", in Lilly Linton's POV.
⚠️⚠️ If you haven't read the original chapter and want to avoid spoilers, then DON'T read this oneshot since it contains potential SPOILERS. If you read beyond this then it's at your own risk and I claim no responsibility. Consider this a FINAL warning.⚠️⚠️
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Considerably slower than usual, I arrived at Mr Ambrose's door. I halted. Or, I tried to. My feet delayed in their response and I stumbled. My head thumped against the door.
'Ow!'
I reeled back and my hand reached out. To my luck, I grabbed onto the correct doorknob out of the three in front of me.
'Gotcha!'
My hand twisted and the door opened, taking me into the room along with it. I swayed but like a reliable doorknob, it didn't let me fall. Good doorknob. Nice doorknob. Maybe it could be a fellow advocate for women's suffrage. Maybe even—
'Mr Linton.'
I looked up to see who had interrupted my bonding with the nice brass knob. Four tall and dark figures stood by the window. Familiar figures.
'I assume you've finished today's interviews?' Strange. I heard only one voice. Maybe one of the four Ambroses decided to speak?
'Yessir!' I saluted with my free hand but they couldn't see. Not with their backs to me.
'Well? What did you find?'
I could only see one Mr Ambrose now. Funny. The other ones suddenly disappeared.
'I found t-that F-French singadingers have s-strong stub— stuffs.
He froze. There was a moment of silence and then...
'Oh no. No. Not again.'
He turned around slowly. So slow I could count the seconds.
One...two...seventeen...nine...
Wait. That didn't sound right. Oh well. Even for someone as experienced with sums like yours truly, math was still tough.
His dark eyes bored into me, raking me from head to foot. Actually, feet. Luckily for me, I still had both intact.
Using them, I wobbled closer to him, tightly grasping the door handle. His eyes narrowed and his stiffened posture became petrified.
In the literal sense, of course. Not the emotional sense. People like Mr Ambrose didn't have emotions, right?
