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fandomweekly2016-04-08 08:41 pm
alobear) wrote in fandomweekly2016-04-08 08:41 pm
Entry tags:
[010] Life With the Cubs (Fables)
Theme Prompt: # 010 – Truth Or Dare
Title: Life With the Cubs
Fandom: Fables
Rating / Warnings: None
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 563
Summary: Magic, Wolves, and Winds don't make a good combination
Snow White was in the kitchen at Wolf Manor when she heard an almighty crash from somewhere upstairs. This was immediately followed by the sound of many pairs of feet running in all directions. She sighed, dried her hands on a tea towel, and stalked towards the source of the ruckus. She kept praying that, one day, the seven cubs would stop causing chaos every minute of the day and settle down into mature and sensible children. She knew it was a vain hope, but it made for some good daydream material.
She found Ambrose cowering amongst the shards of what used to be an ornamental vase in the second floor corridor of the north wing. He looked up at her woefully as she came to a halt next to him.
Snow put her hands on her hips and frowned down at her small son. Whatever disaster occurred, it was always poor Ambrose who was left to take the fall, and Snow knew he was rarely the one at fault.
"What happened here?" she asked, having difficulty keeping her tone stern in the face of Ambrose's terrified expression.
He hesitated, clearly considering what tale to tell her before opening his mouth to speak.
"Truth, Ambrose," she warned.
His lip wavered.
"Or dare?" he said in a tiny voice.
Darien, the oldest of the cubs, and undisputed leader of the pack, sprang out from a doorway sligthly further down the corridor and bounded up to them.
"Did somebody call my name?" he asked. He stared up at Snow defiantly. "I, Dare, will dare anything!"
Snow sighed. "That's usually what causes all the trouble," she said.
Other faces started appearing from other doorways and, soon, all six of the visible cubs were gathered around the broken vase. Snow had to give them some credit - they might have scattered in the heat of the moment, but they generally stuck together when it counted. She even felt the hint of a breeze that meant that Ghost was hovering nearby, too.
"Would anyone like to explain?" she asked.
Therese, always the most likely to blame one of the others, huffed. "Winter and Blossom and I were practising our magic words," she announced in a tone that suggested she thought this was an entirely appropriate use of their time.
"And Connor and Ambrose and I were practising our roaring," Darien said, glaring at his sister as if to say that this activity was far superior. He added additional flavour to his tale by letting out a tremendous roar, which was loud enough to shake another vase its stand several feet away.
"Thank you, Darien," Snow said, drily. "I want an explanation, not a re-enactment."
Darien clapped his hands over his mouth and had the sense to look just a little chagrined.
"Well," Winter piped up. "The best we can reckon, is that some of the magic words got mixed up with some of the roaring and knocked the vase over. Because none of us touched it, honest, Mommy."
All six gazed up at her with the most earnest of expressions, and Snow realised that was as good an explanation as she was going to get. She was quite used to such disasters these days, what with seven magical, wolf-crossed-with-wind-spirit six-year-olds in the house. At least it would be an interesting new story to tell Bigby when he got home.
Title: Life With the Cubs
Fandom: Fables
Rating / Warnings: None
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 563
Summary: Magic, Wolves, and Winds don't make a good combination
Snow White was in the kitchen at Wolf Manor when she heard an almighty crash from somewhere upstairs. This was immediately followed by the sound of many pairs of feet running in all directions. She sighed, dried her hands on a tea towel, and stalked towards the source of the ruckus. She kept praying that, one day, the seven cubs would stop causing chaos every minute of the day and settle down into mature and sensible children. She knew it was a vain hope, but it made for some good daydream material.
She found Ambrose cowering amongst the shards of what used to be an ornamental vase in the second floor corridor of the north wing. He looked up at her woefully as she came to a halt next to him.
Snow put her hands on her hips and frowned down at her small son. Whatever disaster occurred, it was always poor Ambrose who was left to take the fall, and Snow knew he was rarely the one at fault.
"What happened here?" she asked, having difficulty keeping her tone stern in the face of Ambrose's terrified expression.
He hesitated, clearly considering what tale to tell her before opening his mouth to speak.
"Truth, Ambrose," she warned.
His lip wavered.
"Or dare?" he said in a tiny voice.
Darien, the oldest of the cubs, and undisputed leader of the pack, sprang out from a doorway sligthly further down the corridor and bounded up to them.
"Did somebody call my name?" he asked. He stared up at Snow defiantly. "I, Dare, will dare anything!"
Snow sighed. "That's usually what causes all the trouble," she said.
Other faces started appearing from other doorways and, soon, all six of the visible cubs were gathered around the broken vase. Snow had to give them some credit - they might have scattered in the heat of the moment, but they generally stuck together when it counted. She even felt the hint of a breeze that meant that Ghost was hovering nearby, too.
"Would anyone like to explain?" she asked.
Therese, always the most likely to blame one of the others, huffed. "Winter and Blossom and I were practising our magic words," she announced in a tone that suggested she thought this was an entirely appropriate use of their time.
"And Connor and Ambrose and I were practising our roaring," Darien said, glaring at his sister as if to say that this activity was far superior. He added additional flavour to his tale by letting out a tremendous roar, which was loud enough to shake another vase its stand several feet away.
"Thank you, Darien," Snow said, drily. "I want an explanation, not a re-enactment."
Darien clapped his hands over his mouth and had the sense to look just a little chagrined.
"Well," Winter piped up. "The best we can reckon, is that some of the magic words got mixed up with some of the roaring and knocked the vase over. Because none of us touched it, honest, Mommy."
All six gazed up at her with the most earnest of expressions, and Snow realised that was as good an explanation as she was going to get. She was quite used to such disasters these days, what with seven magical, wolf-crossed-with-wind-spirit six-year-olds in the house. At least it would be an interesting new story to tell Bigby when he got home.