Archive | January 12, 2012

Welcome, a story of Stranded World for the Giraffe Call

For rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt.

Stranded world, after The Unexpected Gift (LJ) and A Christmas of Melancholy (LJ)
Autumn turned to Gregor, still reeling. “If you,” she said firmly, “have any world-shaking gifts, could you, I dunno, wait until July or something?”

He chuckled. “I’m flattered, luv, but I’m not the man in your life the way the Tattered one or your late father are. I’m just a friend.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” Autumn’s mother tsk’ed. “There’s no ‘just’ about your friendship, Gregor, not when you’re here with her, supporting her through all of this, when you could be doing holidays with your own – well, I know you have trouble with your family, but surely there’s a young man?”

“I have about as much luck in love as your daughter does,” he answered dryly. “If there was someone…”

“Then you’d be welcome to bring him here for the holidays. I hope you know that, Gregor.”

From the look on his face, he hadn’t. “I, uh.”

“Gregor,” she said, a little exasperated, “do I have to name you a season to have you believe me? Fine, Gregor-the Equinox, you are counted as family here.”

“An Equinox isn’t a season,” he protested weakly.

“Well, it is now.” She bapped him gently on the nose, while Autumn watched bemusedly. “You’re part of the family, son, get used to it.”

“I, ah.” Autumn hugged him tightly, silencing his uncertain protests.

“You,” she told him, glad to have something else to focus on, “are family. You’ve known that for years, Gregor.”

“But my parents…”

“Are not me. Clearly.” Autumn’s mother joined in the hug. “Since I haven’t said it yet, welcome to the family, Gregor. Equinox. And, while my late husband may not have left you a present – well, I got you a couple, and Spring and Summer each sent one.”


“Sends his regards, which is about all he does for anyone. You’re family,” she repeated firmly.

“Wow.” He looked down at the two of them uncertainly. “Well… Merry Christmas, every one,” he misquoted. “I guess now I gotta get a boyfriend and make Autumn bring a real boy home?”

“Well…” Autumn’s mother’s gaze fixed on her again. “There is this young man sending her jewelry.”

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Alder by Post update

I have gone ahead and written and printed Issue One. This will be a limited edition, only 16 copies being printed.

I mailed 6 copies:
3 to donors
1 to my parents, who aren’t allowed to donate (they give us lots of help & money already)
1 to someone who said she would donate
1 to someone who offered art in lieu of a donation

This has cost me in postage $3.70, including 2 stamps I have yet to use. Materials were on-hand, and time was about 2-3 hours of time, some of that more entertainment than work.

It has netted me a promise of a donation and an art. 🙂 I’d say I’m on the positive side so far.

(OTOH, I’m now obsessing about getting an icon for this…) Thanks, Anke!

Manually xposted from

Calling in the Storm

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

I believe (@inventrix’s suggestion) that Diarmaid is Mabina-and-Cassidy’s daughter born after school. This puts this around year 26-28).

This is after The Leftover Gift (LJ)

The natives – or at least the house-guests – were getting restless, and Diarmaid was running out of things to distract them with. Edelin had headed out to the Store “just to pick something up” over an hour ago, and hadn’t been seen nor heard from since. Solange had told them she’d be along later, and never shown up. And a peek outside still showed the halls to be loud, dark, and entirely creepy.

Diar’s parents had been frustratingly close-lipped about the school, but her older brother and sister had told her two things when they came home last summer: “Remember, you’re a cook, not a fighter,” and “if everything looks like it’s going handbasket-y, close your door and don’t let anyone in.”

Looking ruefully around her packed room, Diar decided she listened just about as well as everyone else in her family. Every friend she’d made in two weeks here at Addergoole – except Edelin and Solange – was crowded in here, eating her shepherd’s pie and playing whatever games they could think up.

Flurry, however, was staring at the door thoughtfully. “My room’s just across the pod, Diar,” he wheedled.

“And it might as well be on the moon, Flurry. You are staying right here where you are. Here, have some cake, why don’tcha.”

“Where did you come up with cake?”

“Leftovers, of course. It’s fine, Tony ate two pieces and didn’t fall over.”

“I trust you. And it’s not…” he paused to swallow the cake nigh-on-whole “…that I don’t like your company, Diar. I’d like a lot more of it, maybe in a less crowded situation.”

“And I’m sure you would, my dear, but that’s not today.” And maybe not any day. Her Cohort, or the boys, at least, seemed so young.

“It’s really not,” he agreed. “But I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Of course you don’t, and I’m not sitting not babying you. If you want to go out into the loud fuss and muss, well, you’re an adult now, aren’t you? I just worry.” She was, she knew, channeling her mother. She was also genuinely worried.

“I’m an adult,” he agreed, not entirely certainly, but studying her expression, he nodded again, a little firmly. “You don’t have to look after me, Diar. I can handle myself.”

Gods save us from boys who want to be men. “Then go, Flurry. I’m not stopping you.” Come back with your shield… Down, girl. He’s not yours to send off to battle. But send him off she did, holding the door open for him.

Flury was barely halfway across the dark pod when something with far too many arms grabbed him, pulling him up into mid air. Diar, pretending she wasn’t standing in her open door watching, gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Too late; all of her guests were watching over or around her shoulders now.

“Let me go!” Flurry gasped, struggling, and then really fighting in earnest, pushing against the arms. The air was getting colder and colder, or was that just her nerves? Diar hugged herself tightly, staring at her friend.

It was only in staring that she managed to notice when he went from a short stocky boy to an icicle, the icicle slipping to the ground in, unsurprisingly, a flurry of ice and snow. But he was still there, at the center of the storm, blue and freezing, and the octopus-squid thing was grabbing for him.

Channeling her mother like never before, Diarmaid snapped out into the pod. “Flurry sh’Eirlys, you get back in here this instant.”

She was happily surprised when that worked, and the storm bowled her over in returning over her threshold. Staring down where she thought the octopus’ eyes were, she informed it calmly, “This is my family.”

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Description of Genique

She’s a thin dark-haired woman that’s all points, looking a bit like this icon here, a bit like this image, but with dark eyes. Chocolate-brown eyes, dark-chocolate hair. Normally, it’s pulled back into a tidy updo; she wears it about half-way down her back.

In the Pirate ship, she’s wearing a one-piece jumpsuit, something like this – – or this only in a dark denim indigo. The suit is unbuttoned to mid-torso, over a rich red camisole (this, in red); the matching scarf is tied around her narrow waist.

She’s holding a pen, or a data pad (think tablet, nook, kindle)

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Thursday and Grey

Forget “jobless recovery;”
The dead brown grass and
stick-figure tress speak to me
of a seasonless winter.

It’s raining today. I’d say this was our normal January thaw, except there’s been nothing TO thaw.

That being said!

We got 3/4 of the bedroom window moulding installed last night. I’m a bit wussy with both a hammer & a saw, but I imagine that will change with time. It’s nice to see things beginning to come together, finally.

Only 3/4, however, because the fourth part of the moulding, well, the casing doesn’t quite fit and the window space isn’t quite big enough for the moulding, so we have to wait for the mud to dry before we install the moulding on top of it.

While I was in Rochester this weekend, my wonder-spouse built a hearth board for our wood stove. Now all we need is some chimney!!

(And there were cookies. Cookies are always good.)

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