Archive | February 8, 2016

Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, Part VIII


Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Three: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Four: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Five: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Six: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Seven: Dreamwidth ~ LiveJournal


Fran woke up choking. She pulled herself out of bed and slipped through the town. Her throat was still clogged with smoke. It hadn’t worked. Everything was right, but it still hadn’t worked.

She paused to pet the guard dog who was waiting, where he always was, angry and twitchy but willing to let her touch him. He hadn’t been there when the fire came last time. He hadn’t been there when they’d been slaughtered the time before. Had someone cut him loose?

She knelt in front of the dog and muttered a series of Workings into his fuzzy ear. Then, she went to wake the Mayor.

This time it was going to work out.


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Sting Marydel and the Cliffs of Anterior, Part 6

Part one: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1049125.html
Part two: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1049392.html
Part three: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1051270.html
Part four: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1054666.html
Park five: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1057725.html


Sting had lied to his parents, he’d lied to his friends, and he’s lied to his guild. It wasn’t raining, of course, so he’d had to come up with an excuse not to climb the cliffs; his parents wanted him to work on college applications, so he’d had to tell them he was going out with his friends. This was going to be a bust, and he didn’t want anyone knowing about it until it was over, done, and behind him for good.

The office of NABU was tiny and unimposing, a doorway in the corner of a strip mall and a stairway downwards into a sub-basement. Sting tried to keep that in mind as he descended. It was unimpressive, thus, he wasn’t actually impressed – or nervous. It ought to work that way.

The unnamed soldiers from the day before had been plenty impressive, though. And the things they’d known about him…

No. They’d taken a perfectly normal scary situation and made it sound like he’d done something strange.

They didn’t say anything at all, a helpful voice in his head reminded him. You already knew it was strange.

And that was the problem. Were they going to lock him up for government testing? The information he’d been able to find hadn’t said anything at all about NABU doing Roswell-like testing, but then again, it wouldn’t.

If this was a movie, when he was taken prisoner, Sting’s new power would manifest and he would burn out all those evil government people who were trying to hurt him. But this wasn’t a movie. This was his life. He swallowed his nerves.

He’d lied to everyone, but he had set up a dead-man switch post. If he didn’t show up for dinner, it would go out to his friends, his guild, his parents, and the police. Would any of them be able to help against a shady military organization?

Sting pushed open the NABU door.

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1067774.html

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