Archive | June 6, 2014

Also, I need some gods, please –

Specifically, gods that might be attracted to Rochester, NY and points directly-ish East of there.

Fae Apoc gods, when they returned, tended to pick personalities from old myths (or to be personalities from old myths; that’s still up in the air). The cities they gravitated to were ones where they felt welcome – Irish-myth-gods to Irish-heavy cities, Polish-gods to Polish-heavy cities – either in Europe or in the U.S.

One source lists Rochester as – Ancestries: German (10.3%), Irish (8.6%), Italian (7.9%), English (6.2%), Polish (2.6%), West Indian (1.8%).

(Read more:

(sort of a weird listing – because the fact that the city is 38.1% black is listed in a different chart. I apologize; easily-accessible data does not nicely list African nationality of ancestry the way it does European)

From growing up in Rochester-area, I’d say that fits the feel of the city, although I can’t vouch for actual numbers.

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Think Before You Deal

First – “So, Who are You?”
Previous – Bug

Graduation Requirements? Blaecleah looked between Sedge-too-tall and ‘Obe-Horned-person. The conversation just kept getting weirder, and all he really knew was that he had dived in way over his head way too fast.

And ‘Obe was sighing. “Some day…” The frown was morphing into a smile. “Some day, Sedge, you’ll learn to figure out your deals before you make them. So. Yes, I can help you find a nice girl to help you with the requirements.”

“That’s not what you said! That’s not…”

“Well, we didn’t shake on it nor did either of us promise, for one.” She shifted her weight to her front foot and ticked off points on her fingers. “So I’m under no obligation. For second, I didn’t say I’d do the deed with you – I’ve never said I’d do the deed.”

Sedge’s expression darkened. “It’s not like I’m ugly.”

Wait, what? Blaecleah looked back and forth between them. Were they talking about…

“No.” The smile slipped for a moment. “You’re certainly not. It’s just that I have two more years after this, and this is your last year, and I just don’t want to, right now.”

Sedge sighed, the sort of put-upon full body sigh that Blaecleah had seen younger kids do when they were told they could’t have ice cream before dinner. “Fine. So… you’ll help? Just not… help?

Were they really still talking about… well, and if they were? People had weirder euphemisms.

“Well, you did manage to get the Easter Egg. I really didn’t think you’d be able to pull that off. So, yeah. I’ll help with the grad requirements.”

Something went a little limp in too-tall-Sedge. “Thanks, Niobe.”

Niobe! That was a more reasonable name than ‘Obe. And she was smiling a sort of sad older-sister smile. “You had reasonable expectation that I would help you, even if your listening skills are in doubt. What are you going to do with the kid, now?”

With the… she meant him. Blaecleah looked up at Sedge. There was a feeling in his throat like he was going to puke, and he didn’t understand why.

The look on the tall guy’s face didn’t help, either. He looked down at Blaecleah and sighed, all put-upon no-ice-cream again. “Damn, I don’t know. Do you want him?”

Next – Change of Plans

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The Collar Job, Part XIV

This is … *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

♪♪ I think this line’s mostly filler…♫

Table of Contents here

“It seems like you’re having some trouble with the Alpha Sisters.” Lord Lorcan is every inch the Californian male – sleek and well-groomed and exquisitely dressed, short, slender, and ginger.

“The Alpha Sisters?” Hardison’s voice is flatter than it should be, and his eyes on the little Lord are not kind. “What do you mean?”

“Alessia, Anastasia, Adalia. The Alpha sisters is what we called them when we were growing up. Of course, there were more of them, back then.” The flop Lorcan makes with his hand has to be affected, nobody is quite that… that on their own. But he seemed to be oblivious both to his own mannerisms and to the way it affects Hardison. “So that’s obviously Anastasia up on your screen, but she’s not really the power in the family. Well, I mean – she’s the power but not the power, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, Lorcan, don’t be obscure.” Sophie pats him on the shoulder. “What sort of power isn’t she?”

“She’s not a political power. As far as we can tell, she never wanted it. Did her time in the service, the way we all do – even me, I can see that look, you know – and just stayed for a while.”

“So her sister is the one interested in the power, then? Alessia?” Sophie has gotten her body between Lorcan and Hardison’s monitors, which lets Hardison change the screen to something innocuous. “She’s the oldest, right?”

“She is. The problem is Adalia has as much ambition as Anastasia. It’s a mess, really.” Lorcan’s vapid smile suddenly gets sharp. “So what’s your problem with them, Charlotte? You’ve never been all that interested in Californian politics before – and you’ve never brought a whole team for a little ol’ grift.”

“He knows me so well.” Sophie pats Lorcan’s arm helplessly.

Anastasia’s Rooms

Ana untangles herself from Eliot and from the long snake of sheet wrapped around them. “I could wish that you wanted to stay. But…”

“But?” Eliot props himself up on one elbow. The sheet that half-covers Ana is not up to the task of covering much of Eliot, but neither of them appear to mind. At the moment, neither of them appear to mind much at all.

“But if you were the sort of man who would want to stay here, in my collar, you wouldn’t be the sort of man that was so much fun with.” She pats his bicep gently. “I’ll have to live with a couple weeks.”

A knock sounds at the bedroom door. “Lady Anastasia? You have company.”

Cut to commercial.

Next: Xv

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The Three of Guldenton

I asked for prompts regarding Variants here for The MicroPrompt Giraffe Call. This is written to Rions’s Prompt here.

“You don’t want to go there.”

The vagrant stood at the crossroads, leaning heavily on his staff and turning, slowly, from traveler to traveler.

“You don’t want to go into the mountains.”

“And why not, old man?” He looked weak, and frail; he could not stop them if he wanted to. And yet the travelers waited for his answer. “That is the way to Guldenton, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’s the way to Guldenton, but you’ll not make it going that way, no.”

“And why not, sir?” One among those travelling had remembered their manners.

“That’s where the triplets live, you see.” The man sat down, spry as a child, cross-legged at the center of the crossroads. “That’s where the three live that caused all the trouble.”

To a body, the travelers sat, forming a ragged half-circle around the old man. None but the child noticed that they stayed, every one of them, on the side of the crossroads away from Guldenton; none but the child noticed that they hadn’t meant to sit down.

“The triplets?” It was not the child that asked. “The triplets, sir?”

“Ah, you have not heard the story yet, I see.” The old man leaned forward, grinning his toothless grin. “The story of the three born to Guldenton gold, the three born on the moonless night, the three born of the storm and the rain and the morning dew.”

They were born, (he continued, and only the child noticed that it had begun to grow cloudy) in the last days of spring on the night of a black moon. Three of them, the first born to the strike of midnight, the second born to the lightning’s blast, and the third to the first rays of sun.

And they were born identical in every feature, their skin dewy and their eyes wide, lovely the way children always are, lovely more than children ought to be.

And yet (and here his voice dropped down low, and only the child noticed that they all ducked, every one of them), yet they were different, so very different in their natures.

“Not done yet!”
Correct, it is not! If you want more – and there is more to be had, I’m certain of it – drop some pennies in the jar.

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