Archive | October 24, 2013

Learning the Blue Sira, a setting Fic

See also Learning the Sira and Learning the Aether. Set in the same era (80 years before Rin/Girey) as Learning the Sira

“Close your eyes. Don’t worry about the boat. That is the Captain’s job. Worry about the water beneath the boat.”

Instructor Aarezhnu’s voice was a soothing and melodic chant, one of the reasons Ailetletai considered the ancient woman her favorite Instructor.

Aitai closed her eyes, as she was told to, and thought about the water under the gently bobbing boat. It had a light motion to it; the seas were mostly calm today, but in the Tienbraa sea, nothing was ever truly still.

“Now focus on the blue of the water.” Instructor Aarezhnu shifted her tone, just as the water shifted. Back and forth, back and forth. “Feel the way that Tienebrah flows the the world. Feel the way that the sira shifts, moving with the current.”

The instructor was the only one Aitai had ever heard refer to the Gods in the same breath as the sira. Most people preferred the buffer of philosophy, but Aarezhnu was old, and set in her ways, however fluid those ways seemed.

“Focus on the water, students. The water is where the sira is. The sira is what we are noticing today.”

Aitai didn’t know if the admonishment was meant for her, but she took it as such. Sira. Down into the water. Deeper into the water. There were little currents, like tadpoles playing, up near the surface, but the real sira… that should be further down. Down, down, down.

She found a shining beacon of blue and wrapped her mental hands around it. There, there, the brightest sira she had ever tasted.

This entry was originally posted at You can comment here or there.

On this Date: Addergoole Drabbles of Gregori/The Kraken

October 24, 2004

“What about that one?”

Speed was curled against Gregori’s leg in the middle of the Dining Hall, pointing out people he thought were attractive, or tasty, or good potential subs.

Gregori ran his hands through the boy’s hair. He liked him here. It would be nice to not have compunctions about it.

“How about that one?” He pointed at a lovely Tenth Cohort, with dark eyes and honey-brown skin.

October 24, 2013
(See The Black House Stories for context)

If he hadn’t know why Pretty had chosen to live with him…

Yaminah. Yaminah, because her two years under his collar were over…

He was certainly beginning to understand. She leaned against him, her shoulder blades to his.

The enemy was inside his walls, but they would not live. His Pretty had assured his survival along with her own.

This entry was originally posted at You can comment here or there.

A Week of Settings – Day Six: Tír na Cali/Harem

Tír na Cali is a monarchical nation that takes up the west coast of what, in the real world, is the United States, plus Baja California. It is ruled by a matriarchal triple bloodline of people who call themselves the children of the goddess, and have psychic powers to prove it.

Slavery not only exists but is prevalent, including in its use as a long-term hostage-taking effort; the Californians steal people, generally teenagers and twenty-somethings but sometimes older professionals in desired field, from the U.S. and enslave them in California.

Most slaves serve as one of a few to a small household, as domestic staff on a larger estate, or, if otherwise intractable or useless, as field workers.

However, at least one elderly-by-normal-standards Lady of some repute has opened up a harem in her family estate, where many attractive young men are kept cloistered and in top physical condition, awaiting anything their mistress or her many female relatives might want of them. A key is their ticket out of the harem and into personal freedom…

…but they have to want it.

The Harem sub-story starts here: Gifted

This entry was originally posted at You can comment here or there.

The Cup, Part VII

After The Cup and The Cup, Part II, and The Cup Part III, and The Cup, Part IV, and The Cup, Part V, The Cup, Part VI, in that Order

The road turned upward at a ninety degree angle.

More importantly, it was still doing so in the morning, so it hadn’t been some sleep-deprived illusion of some sort. No, the road just went upwards.

The sign at the base said, simply, If you really need to know how to visit me, you’ll find a way.

“Isn’t this a little obvious?” JohnWayne frowned at the sign. “I mean, massive display of magic and all, isn’t that verboten?”

“You live with Boom.” His father stared at him in incredulity.

“I’m collared by Boom.” Despite what he’d said to his father the night before, sometimes it still startled him how easily the words rolled off his tongue. “That doesn’t mean that I’m in on their policy decisions. Besides, Boom doesn’t do anything this big on their home territory.”

“Okay, that I can believe. Still…”

“Still, this is ostentatious. Be ready for battle.” Cya’s clipped words were underlined by the hawthorn blade she was sheathing in her boot. “JohnWayne, lock the bus down, and then we’ll go.”

The orders didn’t feel like yanks on his strings anymore, but it was interesting to watch his father’s face, and the way he moved like he was being ordered. You take well to the collar, Cya had told JohnWayne once. He was beginning to understand the ways that one could take badly to it.

He locked down the bus, triggering the Workings Cya kept hanging for that purpose. Meanwhile, however, Pellinore was pacing around in circles, muttering Workings. JohnWayne tried to ignore his father so he could do his own work. The words kept popping up, however, and finally he had to ask. “What…”



“You don’t remember the world before the war at all, do you?”

JohnWayne shook his head. “I remember preschool, a little. I remember Mom. But that’s about it.”

“Remember…” Pellinore’s fists clutched, and then, much to JohnWayne’s surprise, he reached out as if to hug.

Cya saved him from that awkward horribleness. “Come on, boys. I’ve found our route.”

Of course she had. What had taken her so long?

This entry was originally posted at You can comment here or there.