Archive | January 31, 2012

Delving in History, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call (@inventrix)

For The [personal profile] inventrix‘s commissioned prompt, a continuation of Scrounging for History (LJ), and Digging through History (<a
href=””>LJ) Part 2 of… probably 7.5

Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

The stairs seemed to go on forever. Karida hated places like this, going into the dark, not knowing quite what was there. She couldn’t imagine doing it “blind,” like a normal human, not knowing if the stair under you would crack or not, not knowing where the walls were. She couldn’t imagine doing it at all if she didn’t know if something lurked in the corners. Not knowing what was lurking was hard enough, nightmare enough.

She hit the bottom of the stairs, reaching for her senses to reassure her that Dor was right behind her, Amalie up at the top looking out, or at least there, if not actually watching. And the something was still there, hiding in the back corner. Waiting for them? Aware of their presence at all? She did not have the Words to know, and Amalie’s Workings were too unreliable (like everything about her, except her song). She kept walking, feeling her way, avoiding the detritus on the floor and sweeping what she could out of the way for Dor.

They were not silent. There was no point in silence, and much more point in being safe. They could trip and fall in stealth, and then both their quiet and their tactical position would be ruined. So instead, they moved forward, hoping it was a wild animal, hoping to spook it out instead of spooking it into attacking them.

Three more steps. Four. The something in the back corner hadn’t moved. “Light,” she murmured to Dor, and he lit the lamp with its small share of oil. A door hung half-off its hinges, a small room defined by broken walls, one hung with pegs. Anything that had hung on the pegs had long since been taken, except one tiny wrench hiding in a corner. Karida pocketed that, pocketed the three remaining pegs, and pushed aside the broken door.

It had been – she wasn’t sure. The ancients had rooms for things she, wagon-born and raised, could hardly imagine. Maybe a storage room? Half-broken crates lined the walls, a few of them, near the bottom, looking intact. They would deal with those later. Hiding, nearly in the crates, in the back corner….

The thing hissed and jumped out at them as Dor swung the light towards Karida’s gesture. Thing, no, not a thing, “flat, Dor, flat,” she called, and tried to take the small woman down with her staff. Two quick thumps to non-vital parts, a third and fourth from the flat of Dor’s wakizashi, and their attacker lay sprawled whimpering at their feet.

“Do you think she’s feral?” Dor murmured. If she was, there would be no reasoning with her, no bargaining. The kindness would be to leave her to her wildness.

“Lee-mee-lone,” the woman muttered. Girl, Karida realized, filthy but with some effort to tidy herself. No older than Amalie.

“No,” she answered slowly. “Or… at least not entirely.” It might have been better if she was.

Next: Bringing Home History (LJ)

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When the Gods Attacked, a story of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] kc_obrien‘s prompt

Faerie Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

It has a very very rudimentary wiki beginning here

Maggie went through her Change as Marduk declared supremacy over the capital of New York State, presumably because the bigger gods had already invaded New York City and the Polish & Russian gods taking over Buffalo were more than a little terrifying.

She was walking home from classes with her friend ‘Cray when the strafing began, dragons flying low overhead, lighting buildings on fire at seeming random. They started running, feet pounding the pavement, every beat seeming to be not enough not enough, not enough, and as they ran, her ten-inch height advantage over her friend seemed to grow, and her feet were burning, screaming in pain, her heels feeling like they were moving. She kept running – there was something like a dinosaur lumbering down the street, and they had to get off the roads and into a house, preferably a stone house – until she couldn’t walk anymore, and found herself pulled into a building. There, the pain finally took over, and she passed out.

She came back to consciousness a few minutes later to the smell of ‘Cray filling her nose, thick and feline and worried, like a tom-cat ready to kill something, stronger than she’d ever known him. She opened her eyes, slowly, to find him hovering over her, his now-very-pointed ears pointing at her. A low giggle escaped her. “McCrae, I always said you were a tomcat.”

“And I always said you were a fox. I think I was a little off,” he noted. “Dodger says thylacine, and, more importantly, says we need to leave the city before the fighting really starts.”

“Dodger?” The only Dodger she knew was the bum who played violin for spare change.

“Dodger,” a voice behind her agreed; the bum’s voice, but richer, heavier, and more musical. “There’s a lot to explain, including why I was watching over the two of you, but the TL:DR version is this: Marduk has moved into the city with a crew of about seven smaller fae and a double dozen really nasty human and human-like warriors. The good guys are on their way, and they’re going to do their best to stop him, but everyone and everything will be on the lookout for kids like you, Changed but with no sense yet. Don’t promise anyone anything, don’t tell anyone your names, and by all that’s holy, don’t get into any fights with anyone.”

He was standing over Maggie by the time he finished this, revealing himself to be, well, himself, but with a shaggy tail and perky collie ears, and a much cleaner trenchcoat than she normally saw him in. There were gods attacking the city, so she avoided commentary about Crime Dogs, and simply nodded. She was pretty sure he was trying to save their lives.

“Where do we go? And how?”

He pressed a key into her hands, and another one into ‘Cray’s. “There’s a van outside. There’s a map with a route highlighted on it in yellow. Cray drives. You have the cabin key. Wait there for me. If I don’t come in a month… you’re on your own.” He helped her to her feet and gave them a gentle shove. “Go. There’s a war on, and you’re not ready to be enlisted.”

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Moving on

After Witness (LJ Link)
Three-Way (LJ)
In the Audience (LJ)
Just Be Yourself (LJ)

Addergoole has a landing page here (here on LJ)

This probably needs a trigger warning for magical thinking

Basalt was, Ahouva was learning, not as hard to work around as she’d feared. He didn’t appear to have a temper, certainly not on the lines of Kendon’s, and he had a great deal of patience with her while she fumbled around, trying to figure out how to make him happy.

She was not sure she liked this list that he insisted on – “write down everything that makes you really happy, and everything that makes you unhappy” – but it had become a kind of meditative exercise, a minute after each class where she let herself just think about herself, and how she felt. Sharing it with him every evening – that was less comfortable. It never failed to get a frown, and it never failed to get a “good girl,” until she was finally, today after her magic class, adding “talking about this list” to her list of things that made her unhappy.

Thoughtfully, and because she didn’t like him frowning, she added “Kissing Basalt” to the list of things that made her happy. It was honest – he’d insisted on honesty but, thankfully, not complete honesty – and it would make him smile. She liked it when he smiled.

She closed her notebook and headed out into the hall. He’d be waiting for her; he always waited for her after her last class. It could be kind of romantic, like he was some 1950’s boyfriend, if she didn’t think he was afraid Kendon would get his hands on her. That… She paused in the doorway, and wrote “thinking about Kendon” on the list of things that made her unhappy. Thinking about Kendon terrified her.

“So you have Kendon’s little toy now, ‘Salt?” She paused in the doorway. Kendon’s toy. That was her. Not anymore… but that was her. What would Basalt say.

“I Own Ahouva,” he confirmed, slowly. “Why, Calvin?”

Calvin! She knew him! He’d been all over Timora for the first couple weeks, and then… nothing. And Timora had come out of Hell Night with Arundel, and not speaking.

“Getting’ kind of bored, thought you might want to exchange… favors. She’s a cute little thing.”

“You don’t have anything I want.”

“Are you sure?” Calvin’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Ahouva’s heart dropped. Slowly, she slunk back into the classroom. She could hide. She could… something. Run away? She could run away. Somewhere. Slowly, she sidled out the back door.

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Tea with /HER/, further continued, a story of Tir na Cali for the Giraffe Call @dahob

A continuation of… Tea with HER (beginning) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 2) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 3) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 4) ()

I was very busy for several weeks after the mourning period. While I’d been running the Barony by proxy for almost two years, there was a marked difference between “by proxy” and “in fact and law.” Mostly, ceremony. Lots and lots of ceremony.

When I wasn’t being draped in ceremonial whatnots, mouthing ceremonial words, or signing ceremonial documents, I had my new slave to train.

He wasn’t Michael, and, though I tried not to drive that home to him too much, I’m sure it came up more than it ought to. Probably about the seventeenth time I slipped and called him “Michael” instead of “boy” and he found an excuse to leave the room and vanish for four hours.

I didn’t even punish him for that. How could I? It was so much like I’d felt. I did, finally, sit him down and ask what he’d been called, back home.

He had to think that one over, checking, I think, against the Countess’ orders. I made a raspberry noise before he got to an answer. “First things first. Who do you belong to?”

“You, Mistress.” That part was easy, it seemed.

“Very good. Whose orders do you follow?”

“Yours, Mistress. And… and your Chief of Staff.”

“Very good. But you follow Ander’s orders only because I ordered you to. What this means is whatever orders She gave you are no longer in play.” It felt so very, very, VERY good to be able to say that. I think I was grinning as I said it. “You are mine, and not hers.” Although I might be tempted to brand him.

“I’m yours,” he repeated. “Yes, Mistress.” Finally, what I was saying sank in. “My name was James. James Markson.”

“James.” Conveniently, it sounded nothing at all like “Michael.” I smiled at him, very happy. “Then I’ll call you James.”

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And Before That?

To [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt

Casey woke up, showered, got dressed, went to work, stopping for a breakfast pastry and a hot drink on the way. Worked for ten hours, with a half-hour break for lunch, went home, cooked dinner, went to sleep.

Nine days out of ten, with a break on the tenth day – and on the tenth day, Casey went to the park, and lay out in the sun, reading a book, enjoying the cacophony of the other 10% of the population taking their day off. The sun was warm, the rain had fallen early in the morning, and the cheap paperback was entertaining, if one Casey had read before.

“Have you ever wondered,” the girl on the next blanket looked a little nonuniform, her hair wild, her tunic trimmed with bright embroidery. Maybe an artist? They had more leeway in such things.

“Wondered?” Casey didn’t wonder.

“What you did before?”

“Before what? Yesterday, I worked. Last week, I came here and read a book. Before that, I worked.”

“And before that?” she prompted, leaning forward, encroaching on Casey’s blanket.

“Before that? The same as…” Casey trailed off. Was life really that boring? Was every day so similar that there really was no memory of the past? “The same as every other ten-day.” But was it?

“You see? I am thirty days into a mural. I will be done in thirty more. But I cannot remember any other mural I’ve ever worked on. And neither can anyone else I talk to. It’s as if we have no history beyond thirty days ago.”

Work, sleep, eat… Casey tried to remember further back, and could not. “That’s impossible.” But was it?

“I think we’re past that stage,” the artist said dryly. “I think now, we should be on to ‘why.’ And, of course… ‘how.'”

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Giraffe Summary! Read the Crazy Fiction! Answer the Many Questions

Since our Last Summary (LJ)

I have written for the January Giraffe Call (and on LJ):

The Cracks
The Dark of the City (Lj)

Origins of Smokey Knoll (LJ)
Planning Board Woes (LJ)
Home to Pixie Town (LJ)

Fairy Town
Strange Neighbors (LJ) [After the Fairy Road (here on LJ)]
Loaves (LJ)
Burning Summer Quest (LJ)
The Beggars (LJ)
City Holiday (DW)
Re-Blessing the Church (LJ)

Fae Apoc
Digging through History (LJ), after Scrounging for History (LJ)
Down in the Dark (LJ)

Tir na Cali
Tea with HER (continuation 2) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 3) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 4) ()

I have written for the December Call (perks & commissions):
Commissions from Last Call:
So. (LJ) Between Years 28 & 29
So I’ve Started Out (LJ) after “Some Say Life.”
Nice Guys (LJ) After “Changed.”

Princesses, Knights, and the Huntsman (LJ)

Strand-Workers and Strand-Working Organizations (LJ

I have written not for any Giraffes:
Addergoole: Boom
Mother-Son Bonding (LJ)
Kept du Jour/a> (LJ)
“Are we killing this one?” (LJ)
Addergoole Yr9
Consequences (DW) Addergoole Yr 9, Ceinwen & Thorburn

Hurt/Comfort (LJ) [Donor perk]


Tangling isn’t just a walk in the park (LJ) Spring & Lance [Donor Perk]

And I asked you more questions:
Mini-Call Poll (DW) (what time should I hold a livewrite for the Mini-call?

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