Archive | December 24, 2013

Then and Now – Audrey and Sage, Dragons Next Door

To [personal profile] kelkyag‘s prompt to my orig-fic card. This fills the “Then and Now” slot.

Audrey, Sage, and Jin are part of my Dragons Next Door setting; its landing page is here.


“The centaur next door is foaling.” Sage came home late at night, his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. “And the pixies in the mailbox could use some help… oh. Oh, Audrey, blessings from the bottom of the world, what…”

That had not been the reaction I’d been expecting, but I would take it. “It appears…” My voice was a little more shaky than I’d thought. I coughed, sipped my soothing infusion one-handed, and tried again. “It appears it’s going around. Kidding season, perhaps?”

“Kidding…” I had never, never in our years, heard Sage’s voice do that, that thing where it squeaked at the end. Never seen his composure shaken. “Audrey, did you do this on your own?”

I lifted up the tiny baby so he could see own firstborn. “Nonsense, Sage, you had something to do with it.” He was so distraught, I had to throw him a bone. “Mistress Gnomen served as midwife.”

“I was going to…”

“Plans change, my love. It’s all right.” Everything was all right. We had each other, and we had our son.


“Plans change, my love. It’s all right.” I lit the candle in the warmer and tried not to glance out the window.

“It’s his birthday.” Sage was pacing. My beloved was not very often distressed, but when he was, it was a sight to be seen. I was, truth be told, a little surprised that there weren’t sparks coming from his fingers. “He’s late.”

“He’s our son, Sage. Something probably came up.”

Sage’s cheeks darkened. No, that was not what I’d wanted. “Like his last birthday?”

“Sage, darling.” What to say to that? Yes, like his last birthday. Like the day Jin was born and many of the birth-days in between. But that would not help matters, when Sage was waiting impatiently to gift his firstborn with his adulthood, and that firstborn had, in the time while we were busy, gone and taken it on his own.

Sage sighed. “I know. But it’s his eighteenth birthday. And you made his favorite meal.”

“Sorry I’m late.” The door slammed. When you had teenaged boys, the door often slammed. “We got stuck in the middle of a pixie debate, and you know how those are. Oh, Mom, Dad… this is Bianna.”

A sip of a soothing infusion calmed me; by the time Jin and Bianna made it into the dining room, I was smiling and ready. Our son was home; everything was all right.

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Friendly Reminder

That if you’re not reading Shadow Unit (, you really ought to give it a try.

Warning: You may lose several days. Totally worth it.

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Jasfe Unutu, a story bit of Fae Apoc

Inspired by these pictures

Given their options after school, hiking through the wilderness that had once been suburbia had seemed like a good idea to the Goldilocks Crew. They didn’t often run into people, and, while there wasn’t much food left, a decade after the apocalypse, sometimes there were useful tools.

Well, useful to someone who had Repair and Worked Objects as their best words, which was Nadette; Orsa could use the words and Beirne was okay with them. But Beirne could find clean water or clean it for them, and Orsa could make food happen anywhere. They made a good team, and not just because they were the Three Bears.

They’d been picking their way through abandoned houses and creepy forests for five months when they came across the hotel; they hadn’t made it very far south, winter was coming, and they wanted a place to bring their kids home to.

And the hotel was a mess. More than a mess, a straight-up disaster.

“This has to have been empty longer than just since the war.” Beirne poked at the moss growing on a mattress. “The houses we’ve seen…”

“Some of them were nearly this bad.” Orsa ran her hand over a broken window. “But there’s graffiti here. I imagine this was empty for a while before things went to shit.”

Things went to shit was the way they phrased it, usually. It seemed less terminal than when the world ended, and, after all, they were still here. Things had only ended so much.

“The roof’s still sound.” Nadette had been muttering Idu Unutu Workings under her breath, Knowing the structure of the building. “And it’s got a well, so there could be water if we can figure out the plumbing.”

“‘Dette, there’s moss on the beds.”

“Abatu Huamu.” Orsa gestured over the bed, and the plant life was gone. “Abatu Huamu mikróvia. That ought to take care of any bacteria.”

“It’s still a saggy mess with saggy wallpaper and a hole in the floor.” Beirne didn’t sound as doubtful as perhaps he ought to, given the circumstances.

“Jasfe Unutu kreváti, Jasfe unutu sanidó.” Nadette shifted as the floor planks knitted themselves back together under her feet. “The walls are sound.”

Beirne looked between the two of them. Finally, he sighed. “Jasfe Unutu paráthyro.” He gestured at the window, and it was whole again. “All right. This can be our cottage.”

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