Archive | November 14, 2011

Family Ties

For an anonymous prompt.

This is in the Fae Apoc Setting, which has a landing page here (and on LJ).

Regine, the speaker, is a character from Addergoole, as are all of the characters she mentions (except Falk).

For a family tree, see here.

Regine discusses fae genetics, Addergoole Year 5.

The field of Ellehemaei genetics is still in its infancy, as such things go. Human genetic codes are still, for the most part, a mystery; adding to that the complexities of our extra-terrestrial ancestry leads to a very complicated field of study indeed. One must narrow the field to hope to achieve anything within a lifetime, even our long spans.

I have narrowed my personal field to two specifics: the mysteries of the way the so-called “half-breed” genes create new patterns as they combine and recombine, and the “throwbacks:” full-blooded Ellehemaei born from two half-breed parents.

To the second, of course I’m interested in Jamian, and not just in it but in its children-to-come and in its half-siblings, who, while they all have very interesting and rather powerful Changes, have not become full-blooded Daeva by any stretch.

But to the first, I confess to an vested concern in my own family line, where, after all, my own interest in Ellehemaei genetics first sprang. My half-brother, Falk, for instance: although we have the same Grigori father, my Change was to a full-blooded Grigori and his, to put it bluntly, was not.

Nor have his children exhibited full-blooded Changes, despite the very strong genetics leaning that way in at least one case. Caity and Kailani are both brilliant young women, nearly as an intelligent as a full-blood might be, but they are not Grigori. Likewise my great-niece Sarita, Falk’s granddaughter by his first wife, Fatima, although in her case, she seems to have inherited a skill with people rather than any brilliance. I confess, I wish Sarita had found someone more intelligent to father her children, or at least split the fathering between two, but it will be interesting to see what comes of her children with Finn.

I expect more of Kai’s children, or at least her child by Conrad. He comes from very strong stock, after all, and is himself more bright than he gives himself credit for. They should create a very smart child together; perhaps, if all works out, I can combine the streams again with a child of theirs and a child of Caity and the indomitable Richard. From that line, I expect to find the leaders of the next generation, perhaps my successor to this mantle.

And from my own children and grandchildren… it remains to be seen. Agatha has not exhibited the taste in men I would have hoped for, but that seems to be a trait of my daughters. Ramona certainly did not choose the fathers for Ofir and Oralee that I would have picked, and it shows, most strongly in Ofir’s academics and paltry understanding of social mechanism. One can only hope that the repeated Grigori strain in Agatha’s child by Ofir will be enough to balance out the idiocy of the father there.

Oralee’s choices were, genetically, better. I look forward to seeing what her child by Ib will become, with the Mara and Grigori bloodlines both so strong there.

I have four more generations. In that time, I should be able to find or create the patterns I am looking for. In that time, I should be able to re-introduce a pureblooded line, a stronger, better Grigori line, to my bloodline.

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Like what you wanted was to pick more of my writing… well, maybe you did

If I do this meme – – which I’m thinking of doing (it’s short) – which character would you like to see me do it for?

Any setting, any character.

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Difficult Relations, a story of the Aunt Family, for the Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] clare_dragonfly‘s prompt.

This is in the Aunt Family setting, which has a landing page now here (and on LJ).

Beryl is one of Evangaline’s nieces.

“What did you get from your Aunt’s garage sale?”

Beryl’s mother was trying to be casual about it, but she did a very unbelievable casual.  She was also rather predictable, so Beryl was prepared for her.

“Couple vintage dresses, two pairs of nineteen-seventies pants I’m going to turn into skirts, and these nice candlesticks.” She juggled things to show her mother the cut-glass sticks.  “Aunt Eva even gave me the candles for free.”

“Hrmph, nothing interesting?”

“No, Mom.”  She rolled her eyes.  “No secret journals, no magical tea leaves, no mystical anythings.”

::Not going to tell her about your great-great-great-great-grandfather in your g-g-g-Aunt’s necklace?:: a voice teased in her ear.

::No, and neither are you,:: she answered firmly. ::Stay quiet when she’s around.:

: the voice answered with surprising meekness, and fell quiet, allowing her to navigate her mother’s nosiness with ease.

“Ah, well, I suppose Evangaline kept all the good things for herself.”

“That’s the whole point of the Aunt thing, isn’t it?”  She didn’t mean to twit her mother, she really didn’t – it just made everyone upset, stressed out the whole family, and got them nowhere in the long run.  But sometimes it seemed like Mom was just asking for it.

“What do you mean?”  Mom was getting pretty uncomfortable with Beryl’s interest in their family’s line of Aunts, especially with Aunt Asta passing away.  The discomfort only made Beryl all the more curious, of course, but her curiosity only made her mom, her other aunts, her uncles, and so on clam up like their lives depended on the silence.

“I mean, you have an Aunt in every generation, who holds on to the powerful things, right?”

“Well… who’s been telling you these things?”

“No-one!” she answered, with some exasperation.  “But you guys all talk, and it’s not like we kids don’t have ears.”  We kids made it not just her, not the teens, but the whole generation.  Shift the attention.  “And everyone knew it would be Aunt Eva.”

“Well, yeah,” Mom answered, uncomfortably.  “But it’s not that big a deal, just the family tradition.  The house goes to the unmarried niece of the current inhabitant.”

“With all the good stuff?”

“Well, it’s been in the family for a long time. There’s supposed to be some expensive stuff hidden under the rafters there.

The voice in Beryl’s head chuckled very quietly.  She couldn’t really fault him.

“I don’t think she’d sell expensive stuff at a yard sale anyway, Mom.  Anyone could get their hands on it there.”

“I guess you’re right.  Well, they’re very nice candlesticks.  And don’t call those dresses ‘vintage’ where you aunts can hear you; I think I recognize one from Sally’s senior year of high school.”  Mollified, Mom took one last look at the candlesticks and left Beryl to it.

::They really don’t want you to know, do they?:: He didn’t sound like a dirty old man anymore; he sounded almost her age, and a bit uncertain.

::She’s afraid it’s going to be me.  I don’t know why it’s a bad thing.::

::I can’t tell you on my own,:: he offered hesitantly, ::but I can’t disobey you, either.::

::That sucks.  Being trapped forever in a necklace and having to do whatever… oh.  Oh.::  She felt a grin growing::Grandpa, you and me are going to have some conversations.::

::Call me Joseph.::

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Some Say Life

For stryck‘s prompt.

This is in the Fae Apoc Setting, which has a landing page here (and on LJ).

Luke is a character from Addergoole, as is Doug; Arundel is a Year Nine character who shows up in Changed. He was born from a sketch of @Inventrix’s – here.

Luke’s first son is mentioned here.

Addergoole, early Year 8

Luke had never had a child of his own with wings.

Theron had barely Changed at all, and his Change hadn’t been one that could fly. Doug – well, Doug didn’t have functional wings, and the less said about that the better. That was two sons out of three, and the third, well, Ké couldn’t keep Aleron from him forever, not with Addergoole to contend with, too, but the boy wasn’t grown yet, and only time would tell there.

He contented himself with Students. He’d taught Ib how to fly – and never mind his personal opinions there, how much it stung to see Ké’s son by another man with the wings his sons didn’t have – and Alisha how to maneuver her tiny, semi-useless pixie wings. He’d taught seven years of cy’Lucas how to fight, how to stand up for themselves, and how to be good, honorable men.

When Arundel showed up in Caitrin’s office with wings exploding out of his back, however, he had to bite back a cheer. The boy wasn’t really, the way they sorted things, cy’Luca material, but that was beside the point. Wings! Real wings, albeit feathery ones instead of the bat-wings that would indicate a full-blooded Mara, but wings that looked functional.

The rest was a foregone conclusion, although both Mike and Laurel put in their bids for the boy, and a week later, when Caitrin judged the wings had come in properly, the two of them were out on the ledge behind the school, tasting the wind.

“Easy,” Luke counseled. “The first few times, just glide, let the air carry you. Don’t worry about falling; it’s not far enough to hurt much and, anyway, Caitrin can patch up anything you do to yourself. Side effect of being nearly-immortal,” he grinned. And the benefit of teaching Ellehemaei kids, since all teenagers thought they were nearly immortal anyway.

“Easy for you to say,” the boy muttered, but he was spreading his wings anyway. The wide wings seemed to owe more to eagles than angels or demons, but Luke was confident the actual flying would work out much the same. “Just… Jump and glide?”

“You have a little skill with kaana, right? Feel the wind, let it tell you where it’s going… and then jump.” Luke demonstrated, and then turned in mid-air to watch his new Student.

“Jump,” the boy muttered, but he did it, feathers at the tips curling to catch the wind. And just like that, he was gliding.

And, just like that, he panicked, flapping hard, flailing. Luke hid a smirk and banked to catch the boy before he hit the ground. “Easy, easy. Everyone does that the first time.”

“Everyone?” he muttered, cautiously finding his feet.

“Even me, kiddo.” Luke patted the boy’s back. It was good to have a kid to take care of again.

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Brothers and Brotherhood, a story of Tir na Cali, for the Giraffe Call @lilfluff

For LilFluff‘s prompt.

This is in the Tír na Cali Setting, which has a landing page here (and on LJ), with characters I have not used before.

“Have you seen your brother around here?” The majordomo had his someone’s-getting-in-trouble face on and his face twisted in a scowl. Caleb gave him an innocent smile. “Simeon? No. I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Hrmph. If you see him, tell him to come find me. Your lordship.”

The ‘lordship’ was brusque, cursory, and entirely insincere, but Caleb didn’t mind. He nodded at the man, and let him storm on his way out.

Caleb wouldn’t be in his brother’s shoes for anything – either of his brothers. Their mother was constantly on Simeon to do better in school, to be nicer to the young Ladies he met on her whim, to clean up and look nicer all around. And Cye…

“Is he gone?”

Both Caleb’s brothers were half-brothers. Simeon shared a mother with Caleb and a father with their sister Marianne. Caleb, on the other hand, shared a father with Cye, whose mother was the head cook.

“He’s gone. I’d ask what you did this time, but he was looking for Simeon.” Cye had only been serving above-stairs for a couple weeks, but some things didn’t take long at all to learn.

“Her Ladyship is on a ramp… I mean, she seems like she’s in a bad mood.” Cye tugged on his slave collar uncomfortably; like Caleb, he was going through a growth spurt, and nothing fit. “Seems like it runs in the family. When I saw Lord Simeon earlier, he was pretty cranky, too.” He eyed Caleb carefully. “Everyone but you.”

“Well, someone has to be in a good mood,” Caleb shrugged. “Besides, shit flows downstream, and by the time it reaches me…” It was divert it or let it hit Cye and the other slaves. But saying that would just make Cye uncomfortable. He shrugged. “Not so much left, since it’s all over Marianne and Simeon.”

“Must be nice, being the youngest,” Cye murmured. He was still getting the feel for what his half-brother-slash-Master would put up with, and Caleb was still getting a feel for how much he could let his new responsibility get away with, so when the younger boy flopped across the bed, they both eyed each other uncertainly.

“It has its advantages,” Caleb allowed. “Mostly invisibility.”

“Doesn’t sound that different from being a slave.” He sat up, cross-legged, clearly uncertain about the lack of reprimand.

Caleb shrugged. “There are advantages,” he repeated. As long as he kept his nose clean, he could look after those beneath him… like Cye. It wasn’t much of an advantage, but it was something. It was almost a purpose in life.

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Monday and still a little sick

Good morning. My throat is raw, but that doesn’t stop me from typing!

This weekend was full of painting (trim for the bedroom, inside and out) and mudding (bedroom), shopping (bulk food store, mostly for spices (we were out of cinnamon) and the Asian market for garlic to plant (yes, we decided to go with store garlic and hope for the best). It was also the Giraffe Call and working on nano, hindered by my body continuing to declare “sleep time now!”

This week, I am hosting at [community profile] poetree; if you’ve been reading 1000 years or so and there’s a poem of mine you like & think I should share, please let me know.

Michikip is hosting a Free Icon Day!!

cluudle has been posting some delicious fiction; go read!

And [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith has up a poll for fishbowl themes

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