Archive | February 16, 2014

Gang aft agley

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an ‘men
Gang aft agley,
An’lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Plan for day: 20-10-20s, of housework-rest-writing

So far today:
20 kitchen, 10 play, 20 writing, lunch, drugstore for battery for thermometer, REALLY upset cat for a couple minutes, migraine+sinus headache=nap.
Then hanging out with spouse and cats for twenty minutes, which at least was totally worth it. 🙂

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What, He’s Got Two Legs (probably), a story of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call

This is to [personal profile] librarygeek‘s prompt here to my February Giraffe Call.

Faerie Apocalypse has a landing page here, although these are new characters.

Short summary of the setting: there is magic and people who can use magic (modern fantasy, and then post-apoc fantasy after, well, the apoc). The apoc takes place when “returned gods,” powerful fae, come back from Elleheim, “elf-home.”

This is placed somewhere in the middle of the apocalypse.

“I don’t think we can, exactly, call him ‘Old Man Winter.'”

Giselle was feeling argumentative. Of course, Giselle was often feeling argumentative.

Ansel was less interested in the nits and picks of the situation. “I don’t give a fig what we call him – if it’s a him at all. What I want is for him to either cut it out or pick up a shovel.”

“…because he might be a more universal weather- what?” Giselle blinked.

Ansel pulled on his second pair of wool socks. “If he’s determined to layer our city in more snow than it normally sees in a decade, then he ought to come down here and shovel with us.”

“Our city is being besieged by what is very likely a returned god – although the term ‘god’ is, of course, problematic – a returned fae from Elleheim – who is burying the city and surrounding county in feet, feet of snow, and you want him to shovel?”

“Well.” Ansel pulled his boots on and laced them firmly. “I’m from Buffalo, remember? One, Buffalo is being attacked by Czernobog, who’s a bit more destructive than ‘Old Possibly-a-Man Winter’ up there. And two? Feet of snow are normal.”

“So what are you going to do? Walk up to a god and ask him to shovel?”

“He’s got two legs, doesn’t he?”

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