Categories > Games > Sonic the Hedgehog
Last Train To London
0 reviewsAlright then. This story was inspired by the Electric Light Orchestra song 'Last Train To London'. I've been listening to the song, and this story just poured out of me. So, for the French you can ...
0Unrated
Alright then. This story was inspired by the Electric Light Orchestra song 'Last Train To London'. I've been listening to the song, and this story just poured out of me. So, for the French you can go to bablefish and get it translated, and just know that you can see more of Alex (the Caat) on fanfiction.net . She's in a story by myself called 'What Makes A Hero?' and the author's name is Night Kitten. So, I hope you like it guys!
Let me just say that I don't own Rouge or the idea behind Sonic the Hedgehog. However I do own this story and Alex is a character of my own creation. I don't own Alex, but you have to ask if you want to write something with her in it. Anyhoo, read on and enjoy!
Alex knew she could only stay in the town until her train. And this was all well and good with her. At least, it was before she heard the music in streets around the ghetto. Alex had never really been one for foolhardy dancing, but she was passionate about music, and she had been able to maintain her humorous attitude even as she working in accountancy. But she had never been to France before, and Paris had always seemed to be the kind of place she'd wanted to see for herself. She was of the opinion that Paris was a grand city, full of light and with Eiffel Towers on signs and such all over the place. In true, Alex was only half right.
She had been seeing a business partner in the 'downtown' part of the city, and as such she was more near what James Brown would call 'the soul of the city'. Alex had hoped to just go there, talk through the business plans, and be headed back to her room at the local inn before dark. This was not the case, as the business plans were not what one would call simple. So, with the darkness of night all about, she had been headed back to her inn, when she started to hear the strangest music. Upon looking for it's source, she had found an alley that lead into a small ghetto square, which was lit by a great bonfire.
"Someone's found a witch, then?" she joked, watching for the band that played the lovely music. Alex waited, and watched the people around the fire dance and sing merrily. To be honest, Alex had been a good dancer, but she had never perused her skills because she was uncomfortable with most other dancers. But as she watched, a young lady came dancing around the flames, a shiny violin under her silky white chin. Something had Alex's ears go up, and she watched as the lady danced in merry hops and bounds, her red frilly dress flapping around her lovely hips.
Before she realized it, Alex had moved out of the alley and was standing just on the outskirts of the square, still watching the lady in red. The other musicians quieted and the lady played cheerily, her bow making the tempo raise suddenly and the other people dance faster. The lady in red spun about gleefully, and Alex's ears flickered around as she saw how low cut the lady's dress was. She tried to look away, or at anything that wasn't the other woman's chest, and she was very unsuccessful in this matter. When finally she was able to look up, the woman in red was smiling at her, and she had stopped dancing.
Alex swallowed awkwardly, and told herself to back up. Her legs were glued to the spot, however. The lady in red moved over to her, still playing, and still smiling at the other woman's awkwardness. In a moment the violinist stood before Alex, and she was handing her glossy instrument off to a tall boy with dark brown fur and a great furry tail.
"Bonjour, Madame," The lady in red said in an almost purring voice. She curtsied respectfully, her leathery black wings unfolding from her long, thin back. Alex was sweating by now, and she was doing her best to keep her composure.
"Bon-uh-hall-hi-how are-B-Bon-Bonjour," She smattered dully, hating herself for being so inarticulate. The lady in red smiled, showing pearly white teeth and ruby red lips. She had long white furred ears, great angled eyes of sapphire blue, and a pitch black beauty mark of on cheek. Alex swallowed again.
"Vous n'êtes pas bon avec des mots?” Alex translated this, and tried to remark quickly. This was not a good idea.
“Oui, bien, pas vraiment.” The lady in red laughed, and Alex felt very small. She didn’t like it when people laughed at her, even when she knew she had made a joke. “Votre nom ?” she asked limply.
The lady looked her dead in the eyes, and smiled serenely.
“Rouge,” She said simply.
The rest of the night was a blur to Alex. She knew her train was leaving very early the next morning, at four-thirty to be exact. But as she woke up, in a warm bed covered with wine red silk, looking up at the tall four posters that were draped with crimson cloth, she knew she had missed the train by a wide margin. The second thought that worked its way into her foggy mid-morning mind, was that she was quite definitely not in her room at the inn. In fact, she was in a room that was, for all intensive purposes, larger than the whole inn it's self. And a great deal more nicely furnished.
Alex like hot colors, especially reds. She also thought that red looked best when it was next to darker red, like it was on the walls of the room. She also liked red wood, like the mahogany dresser in the far corner of the room. And red lamps that gave off an almost amber light that turned other colors red like the ones hanging from the walls were lovely too. And tall windows with red wood frames and wine red curtains pulled over them so that the room would look even redder were also appealing to Alex. But most of all, Alex liked the way the French said red. Rouge. It always sounded so exotic.
Then her brain clicked together. She looked down at the bed, and saw that the lady from the night before was snuggled comfortably under the covers beside her. Before Alex could move to sneak away, the lady stirred and woke with a small and almost catlike yawn.
“Bonjour,” she muttered sleepily, smiling up at Alex.
And then Alex knew that she didn’t care about the train, or the business plans, or the firm she worked for, or any of that. In fact, she no longer cared about the world outside of Paris. In fact, she didn’t care about Paris, or the downtown, or the street near the street she was on, or the street she was on, or the manor she was in, or the room, or the bed. She only cared about the lady that lay beside her, snuggled comfortably beside her with her small black noise nestled sweetly in Alex’s light brown fur.
FIN
Let me just say that I don't own Rouge or the idea behind Sonic the Hedgehog. However I do own this story and Alex is a character of my own creation. I don't own Alex, but you have to ask if you want to write something with her in it. Anyhoo, read on and enjoy!
Alex knew she could only stay in the town until her train. And this was all well and good with her. At least, it was before she heard the music in streets around the ghetto. Alex had never really been one for foolhardy dancing, but she was passionate about music, and she had been able to maintain her humorous attitude even as she working in accountancy. But she had never been to France before, and Paris had always seemed to be the kind of place she'd wanted to see for herself. She was of the opinion that Paris was a grand city, full of light and with Eiffel Towers on signs and such all over the place. In true, Alex was only half right.
She had been seeing a business partner in the 'downtown' part of the city, and as such she was more near what James Brown would call 'the soul of the city'. Alex had hoped to just go there, talk through the business plans, and be headed back to her room at the local inn before dark. This was not the case, as the business plans were not what one would call simple. So, with the darkness of night all about, she had been headed back to her inn, when she started to hear the strangest music. Upon looking for it's source, she had found an alley that lead into a small ghetto square, which was lit by a great bonfire.
"Someone's found a witch, then?" she joked, watching for the band that played the lovely music. Alex waited, and watched the people around the fire dance and sing merrily. To be honest, Alex had been a good dancer, but she had never perused her skills because she was uncomfortable with most other dancers. But as she watched, a young lady came dancing around the flames, a shiny violin under her silky white chin. Something had Alex's ears go up, and she watched as the lady danced in merry hops and bounds, her red frilly dress flapping around her lovely hips.
Before she realized it, Alex had moved out of the alley and was standing just on the outskirts of the square, still watching the lady in red. The other musicians quieted and the lady played cheerily, her bow making the tempo raise suddenly and the other people dance faster. The lady in red spun about gleefully, and Alex's ears flickered around as she saw how low cut the lady's dress was. She tried to look away, or at anything that wasn't the other woman's chest, and she was very unsuccessful in this matter. When finally she was able to look up, the woman in red was smiling at her, and she had stopped dancing.
Alex swallowed awkwardly, and told herself to back up. Her legs were glued to the spot, however. The lady in red moved over to her, still playing, and still smiling at the other woman's awkwardness. In a moment the violinist stood before Alex, and she was handing her glossy instrument off to a tall boy with dark brown fur and a great furry tail.
"Bonjour, Madame," The lady in red said in an almost purring voice. She curtsied respectfully, her leathery black wings unfolding from her long, thin back. Alex was sweating by now, and she was doing her best to keep her composure.
"Bon-uh-hall-hi-how are-B-Bon-Bonjour," She smattered dully, hating herself for being so inarticulate. The lady in red smiled, showing pearly white teeth and ruby red lips. She had long white furred ears, great angled eyes of sapphire blue, and a pitch black beauty mark of on cheek. Alex swallowed again.
"Vous n'êtes pas bon avec des mots?” Alex translated this, and tried to remark quickly. This was not a good idea.
“Oui, bien, pas vraiment.” The lady in red laughed, and Alex felt very small. She didn’t like it when people laughed at her, even when she knew she had made a joke. “Votre nom ?” she asked limply.
The lady looked her dead in the eyes, and smiled serenely.
“Rouge,” She said simply.
The rest of the night was a blur to Alex. She knew her train was leaving very early the next morning, at four-thirty to be exact. But as she woke up, in a warm bed covered with wine red silk, looking up at the tall four posters that were draped with crimson cloth, she knew she had missed the train by a wide margin. The second thought that worked its way into her foggy mid-morning mind, was that she was quite definitely not in her room at the inn. In fact, she was in a room that was, for all intensive purposes, larger than the whole inn it's self. And a great deal more nicely furnished.
Alex like hot colors, especially reds. She also thought that red looked best when it was next to darker red, like it was on the walls of the room. She also liked red wood, like the mahogany dresser in the far corner of the room. And red lamps that gave off an almost amber light that turned other colors red like the ones hanging from the walls were lovely too. And tall windows with red wood frames and wine red curtains pulled over them so that the room would look even redder were also appealing to Alex. But most of all, Alex liked the way the French said red. Rouge. It always sounded so exotic.
Then her brain clicked together. She looked down at the bed, and saw that the lady from the night before was snuggled comfortably under the covers beside her. Before Alex could move to sneak away, the lady stirred and woke with a small and almost catlike yawn.
“Bonjour,” she muttered sleepily, smiling up at Alex.
And then Alex knew that she didn’t care about the train, or the business plans, or the firm she worked for, or any of that. In fact, she no longer cared about the world outside of Paris. In fact, she didn’t care about Paris, or the downtown, or the street near the street she was on, or the street she was on, or the manor she was in, or the room, or the bed. She only cared about the lady that lay beside her, snuggled comfortably beside her with her small black noise nestled sweetly in Alex’s light brown fur.
FIN
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