Monday: Figurative Language

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Good morning, dears :D I'm nevcolleil, and I'll be your guest host this week. Today is Monday and your prompt for the day is figurative language.
Sayings, expressions, comparisons... (And, if you can dig the Language Arts lingo, metaphors and similes. Heck, throw in some kennings if the fancy strikes you!)

Examples:

Any, any, "I didn't mean it literally!"
Chuck/White Collar, Chuck/Neal, like a cat on a hot tin roof
Angel, Wes +or/ Illyria, You should never speak metaphorically to an ancient god king... and this is why.

Just don't forget the rules:
♥ No more than five "live" prompts at any time.
♥ No more than three prompts from a specific fandom.
♥ No spoilers in your prompts until at least a week after release/air/publication date. If your fill is spoilerly, mark it obviously as such.
♥ Respect our codemonkey overlords, and format your prompts in the way that is pleasing to them (See Above Examples)
♥ Have fun! ;)

Comments

Fill: Accomplishments

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

"It's only a horse. You can't tell me you don't know how to ride one... You're the bloody 'pale horseman'."

"Of course I know how to do anything I might damned well please," Death responds, and lesser beings would quake at the ire in his glare.

But Methos has never considered himself a lesser being. More's the pity.

"But I don't please," Death continues. "I haven't literally ridden a horse in years." Three thousand, three-hundred and eighty-six to be exact. As soon as horse-drawn carriages became a more comfortable and yet equally efficient method of earth-bound travel as riding horseback, Death 'traded in' his 'spurs', as the mortals used to say. "Do you know what a saddle would do to the in-seam of these trousers?" Death laments.

The horses bridled before himself and his son paw at the ground, unperturbed.

Insoucient characters. Methos does love to surround himself with them. He'd get along just swimmingly with a certain Winchester in Death's acquaintance. In fact, if he were not Death, Death could nearly shudder at the thought of such a meeting.

"Do you know what that slop you made me eat the last time we met-"

"Watch your tongue, boy. That slop is the single greatest culinary accomplishment of the twenty-first century."

"-did to my stomach?" Methos asks, unimpressed by his father's dark stare. Glower all he wants, Methos will not credit the old man's love of greasy cheesesteak. "The least you can do is ride with me. The exercie will do you good."

It will not, as a matter of fact. Not that either exertion, or the absence of it, could ever do Death bad.

But falling off a horse doesn't help the old man's ego.

It certainly makes Methos laugh, though.

Re: Fill: Accomplishments

[tigriswolf]

Dude, this is epically awesome; are you sure you haven't seen Methos anywhere? The snark between him and his dad is perfect!

*dances the dance of happiness*

Re: Fill: Accomplishments

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Yay! :D I'm so glad you like it! All I know about Methos I leaned from your fic (hee :p that should be an icon!) So your excellent characterizations are to thank if I did okay :)

Re: Fill: Accomplishments

[tigriswolf]

More than okay, dude. Imagine what you could do if you watched Highlander. *is not hinting anything at all*