Genre

To kelkyag‘s commissioned continuation of Sidekick. For the complete story, see here.

The Aunt Family has a landing page here.

“Tragic.” Eva was finding her voice, although it was taking effort. “Aunt Rosaria, what are you talking about? There’s nothing tragic about Uncle Arges, unless you mean those horrid Hawaiian shirts. And who’s Willard?” She flapped her hand. “I know that Willard is Aunt Ramona’s son. And I think you’ve said that he’s like Stone, or he was, but he left the family. I didn’t know people could leave the family.” She frowned. “Aunt Rosaria, I don’t normally sound this silly.”

Her aunt patted her leg. “I know, dear. Believe me, I really do. I remember when my aunts had this effect on me. It’s as if you are feeling the whole weight of the family staring down at you from one old lady, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite that way…”

“That, my dear, is because you are a nice girl. You’ll age out of that in time, I imagine, because you are also a very strong girl, and those two do not often go together.”

Eva coughed, uncertain what to say to that.

Her aunt wasn’t done yet, though. Of course not. Aunt Rosaria was a story-teller. “Argie loved Willard. Not in that sort of way, but as a hero, a role model. He looked up to that boy like he hung the moon. And that, that almost turned into a real tragedy. But it is one thing among many that we failed to see.” She pursed her old lips tightly. Eva thought she might cry; a granny, cry? She’d never seen that.

“Aunt Rosaria, you’re being immensely vague.”

“Turn left here, darling. I know I am. But there are stories we can see clearer, if we look at the pictures, than looking at the truth.”

“And this is one of them?”

“And this is one of them. So.” The old woman coughed, folded her hands, and began. “Once upon a time.”

“Not so very long ago, and yet so very long ago.” Eva remembered the lines as if it had been only yesterday she’d been sitting at her aunt’s feet.

“Very true. Once upon a time, but not so long ago that we’ve forgotten, there was a boy.”

“Was he a prince?” She found she didn’t feel silly; the questions were part of the ritual, after all.

“He was the son of a royal family, but he was not the heir. That was his cousin, the Princess. That was all right with the boy. He didn’t want to be King. He told everyone that could hear that: ‘I don’t want to be King. I want to be a wizard, and live in a tower.’ He told it to his aunties, who patted his head, and told him to wash the dishes, for in this land, everyone had to wash dishes.”

“In that land and in ours.”

“As in ours, yes. Even Princesses. He told his uncles, who clucked and scolded. ‘Boys are not Wizards. There are no Wizards in this land.’

“‘There are wizards in the next land over.’ The boy was determined.”

Eva, lost in the story, pulled herself out enough to wonder what the next town over translated to, in the real world.

“What kind of wizards were there?” She inserted the question, because the story seemed to want it, and because she wanted to know.

“That was the thing. Nobody knew. They weren’t even sure how the boy knew that such things existed. For the royal family, you see, had taken to ignoring all the other nations around it.”

“That doesn’t seem very wise.”

“They were not, truly, the wisest of families. But perhaps that is a goal to which no family can honestly aspire, be they royal or not.”

“So they ignored all the other countries?” Eva could picture both her family and the royals they were describing, one superimposed upon the other, staring at each other and pointedly ignoring everything behind their backs. Her Aunt Asta wore the queen’s crown, in this image.

“They did. But this boy, he wanted to be a wizard.”

“And there were no Wizards.”

“Not in the land they lived in. But the boy insisted. His uncles and aunts told him to hush. His mother and father told him to hush. His sisters and brothers told him to hush. But the boy insisted.

“‘I will be a Wizard,’ he insisted. ‘Not a shiny one, not a brave one, not the best wizard – at least not to begin with. But I am not a Prince; I will never be a King. So I will be a Wizard.”

“Couldn’t he have been a Hero?” Evangaline found she was getting deep into the story.

“He could have been a Hero. He would have been a very good Hero. but his inclinations – and his talents – did not lay in that direction. He had been born, as very few are, to the mantle of Wizard. And he knew it.” Aunt Rosaria’s voice broke, just a little bit. “And the royal family knew it as well.”

“They tried to talk him into a different path. The Hero. The Demon-Slayer. Even the Love Interest. There were plenty of lovely girls around. A Lothario would have had more than enough to do. But the boy did not want to be any of these things.

“The family was determined, however. There had never been any Wizards in the realm. It was not done. It was simply not done.” For the first time in her life, Eva heard her aunt’s voice rise up in broken anger. “And because it was not done, we…” She took a breath, and stared out the window at the moving scenery. “Because it was not done, the royal family told the boy he had a choice.”

“A bad choice.” Eva barely breathed the words.

“The worst choice. He could stop being a Wizard, stop this insistence that he was somehow different from everything the kingdom had strived for. Or he could leave.”

Aunt Rosaria looked back at Evangaline. “And, as almost everyone had known, in their heart of hearts, that he would, the boy chose to leave. What choice, really? He could be himself – or he could stay in his kingdom.” The old woman’s voice broke again. And she looked old, in a way she had not before.

“He left, of course. He left us… the boy left the royal family. He left without taking so much as a bag, a cookie, a silver coin. He left taking not even the clothes his family had given him, leaving behind everything, everything of the family. He left. And for a while, the family thought they could be relieved. The would-be Wizard was gone. They did not need to worry about the things that could not be. They did not need to look into the ways Wizards could be contained. They could have a Princess, and they could be content.”

Rosaria took Eva’s hand. Her touch was cool and papery, but her grip was firm. “It was not until many years later that the family truly learned what they had lost, in sending the boy away.” Her tone was sepulcher, and there was a terrifying crypt-door-closing finality in her words.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/534069.html. You can comment here or there.

F for Feisty Friend Felines of the Family

May9

To Rix_Scaedu‘s prompt and Kelkyag‘s prompt.

After Kitten Troubles and Auntie Kitty

Aunt Family have a landing page here.

“Well?” The Siamese kitten sat primly down on the edge of Beryl’s bed and began grooming a paw.

“Well?” Beryl stared at the kitten. Physically, she looked like any other kitten. But her voice, such as it was…

“Well?” Radar echoed. He seemed as uncomfortable with the whole thing as Beryl was.

::Well?:: Her necklace wanted to get in on this, too, and that was just too much. Beryl took the necklace off and put it – him? – in the silk-lined box she’d found for moments like this.

“Well.” The kitten looked between Beryl and Radar. “What can you do for me?”

Before Beryl could manage to respond to the small thing’s giant arrogance, Radar had arched his back and hissed at the kitten before batting her hard three times with his paw.

“We.”

“Are.”

“Their.”

“Friends.”

The kitten cowered, ears flat. “We’re cats.” There wasn’t much fight left in her voice, and she was mewling unhappily out loud. “We’re cats.” She repeated herself as if the words meant more to her than they did to Beryl.

“We are their friends.” Radar sat back and began washing his paws. “We are more than cats, my feisty daughter.”

“Don’t call me that.” Her ears were raked back again, and now the kitten looked as if she would try hissing at her father.

He was unimpressed. “It’s what you are. A feisty feline.” He seemed to like the sound of that. “And their friend.”

“Why?”

Radar glanced at Beryl. She, other than getting her hands out of the way of two angry cats, had chosen to stay as still as possible. This wasn’t really her business, not yet.

“That’s what we were made for.”

“You might have been made. I was born.”

“Well.” Radar did the cat equivalent of a shrug, and washed another paw. “Someone made you. Someone made you, and you were made from a kitten I sired. I was made to be their friend. And thus… you are their friend, too.”

“Or?”

Radar showed all his teeth to the kitten. “There is no or.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/529730.html. You can comment here or there.

Z is for Zoology Sparks, a story of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call

May1

To Ellenmillion‘s prompt, with a side of stryck‘s prompt.

Zenobia is an Aunt from the Aunt Family; her stories are here. Prompting her was kelkyag
Zenobia was taking an interest in zoology.

She hadn’t done this solely, or even primarily, to irritate her family, although it served this purpose admirably.

It entertained her to speak to the relatives about other species that might exhibit the spark. “And what about octopuses? They have so many hands, can you imagine them reading a tarot? It would have to be a waterproof tarot, of course…”

That hadn’t been the one that had really irritated them. Zonkey, Zonkey had really gotten to her nieces and nephews. They already thought that she was more than a little zany, and, of course, she was stubborn in her refusal to die or otherwise give up her position, but zonkies? Really? Worse was when she added two to the family stables.

But there was, as there always was, a method to her madness. First, she did wish to know if there were other animals that would show what her family called the spark. There was, of course, The Damn Cat, who was clearly a cat above the rest. Were there others?

For some reason, despite his reluctance to have her look into his own past, the Damn Cat was more than willing to help Zenobia in her studies into zoology. “Stick with mammals,” he advised. “Fish are food. So are birds. And frogs…” He shuddered at the idea of frogs. “And probably stick with the females of the species.”

“Why females?”

“There is a reason your Aunties have the spark. And never mind that your Unclies have it too. Trust me.” The cat sat down on her zoology text. “The zonkies were a good start.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/525440.html. You can comment here or there.

Magic Mondays: The Aunt Family, and Uncles

Apr29

@DaHob asked about the Aunt Family’s Uncles.

The Aunt Family, as it has been revealed so far, has magic of some sort (Witchery, “the spark”) residing in one unmarried, childless member of each generation. Through an unknown-so-far mechanic, when the family gets too large, it splits; thus there are several Aunts at any given time (Evangaline, Deborah, Becka).

But what about men? Beryl’s brother Stone has the spark, that much is already been determined. And there have been Aunts without the spark as well – Evangaline’s Aunt Asta, for one, was described as mostly a vessel, holding the title for a generation.

The answer is, more or less: the family as a whole has the genetic possibility for the spark. They aren’t the only ones in the world that have it (Their family is very old; they could have the only bloodline that has the spark after all, just spread out over the world over the last millenia), and the Aunt is not the only person in any given generation to hold it.

But their particular family holds that men have other things they need to focus on, and that the magic is in the sphere of women alone. What this means for men with the spark depends on the man, the branch of the family, and the era.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/523538.html. You can comment here or there.

The Strength, a continuation of the Aunt Family for the March Giraffe Call (@rix_Scaedu)

Apr28

This is rix_scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of:
Intimately Involved (LJ) and
Precedent (LJ)

“Oh?” The other women turned as one towards Hessa. Hessa, in her own turn, had shaded towards a sickly pale green color.

Deborah found both of her hands going over her stomach protectively. “What is it, Hessa?”

“I think I found something out. I think I found another time it happened.” She smoothed the pages with both hands. “I think it happened to great-great-great-Aunt Pearl.”

“Great-great-great…” Deborah counted on her fingers. “That was the one who… vanished, isn’t it? Her diaries went missing with her.”

“I don’t think she vanished, Debs. I think someone vanished her. I think the Grandmothers vanished her.”

“The Grandmothers?” Deborah found herself looking back and forth between her cousin and sisters. “You mean her contemporaries?”

“Oh, relax, Debs. We’re not going to vanish you. We’re your friends, you know. This isn’t like the cousins over in Johnsonville.”

Deborah swallowed, hard, and found herself grabbing and clinging to the hand that Linda offered. “So you don’t mean Aunt Pearl’s sisters and cousins, anyway.” She looked up at Hessa, to find that both Hessa and Danielle had reached their hands out, too. She clasped them both with her free hand, and Linda put her free hand on top of that hand-pile.

“I think it was Pearl’s mother’s sisters, and their mothers and aunts. I think there’s something about the family that works badly if there’s a pregnant woman in the Aunt house, and I think they do everything they can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I think that nothing like that is going to happen to our Debs.” Danielle was firm. “We’re not going to let the grannies get in the way, and we are going to come up with a solution.”

Deborah found her sister’s confidence reassuring to hear, even if she didn’t share it. She might be the Aunt, but there was tremendous power held in the women of the family, especially the Grannies, as the younger generation called the older (but only when they weren’t listening). It did not have to be magic to be strong; the Grannies had the power of family behind them.

She wasn’t the only one not entirely reassured. “We still don’t know-” Linda began.

This time it was Danielle who found it. “I think I found something important.”

Linda, always the youngest, and thus used to being talked over, shut her mouth with a snap. They all turned to look at Danielle, who was holding up a hand-bound book, the covers looking suspiciously like home-tanned rawhide.

“Listen to this. ‘It is not that the power of the family’s Auntie rests in the womb, as some have speculated. Nor does it, as others had complained, rest in the mother’s milk.‘” She looked up at her sisters and cousin.

“Well.” Deborah didn’t want to get her hopes up. “That sounds like a good start?”

“Did anyone really think all the power sat in your belly?” Hessa was grumbling. Of course it was Hessa that grumbled.

“Clearly you haven’t heard the men of the family talk. Or, worse, some of the far-cousins who haven’t a spark of spark but still think that maybe they will be the next Auntie, or start their own line, because they have an empty womb.” Linda was getting grumbly as well. They needed refreshments.

Of course, they needed answers more.

“Keep reading, Danielle.” Deborah stood, noting as she did that she wouldn’t be able to hide her little problem much longer. Standing was beginning to get tricky, and the Grannies would definitely notice that.

“‘The power of the Aunties, indeed, of all our family, lies deeper still. After all, there have been men who have carried the power – not many, of course, and of course they cannot be trusted with it, but they do carry it, and they have no womb and no milk.‘”

Deborah set the tea kettle on the stove, and measured out the loose leaves into four cups that had been her great-great Aunt’s. “Interesting that they acknowledge the Uncles. The Grannies certainly don’t.”

“The Grannies don’t ever acknowledge anything that might mean change.” Linda, who had married a tall, handsome black doctor, might have been a little more aware of this than most of them.

“They’re supposed to be the anchor, like the cousins are supposed to be the sail.” Deborah had read that in another Auntie’s journal. “So that the boat of the family moves, but very slowly, and without tipping over.”

“Seems like that would just break the boat.” Hessa had her own opinions on matters. She always had.

“I think the assumption is that it’s just a really sturdy boat.” She pulled out bread and meats and cheese, and began throwing together a lunch tray. “Danielle?”

“‘The power of our family has always been twofold. First, in the family itself, root and stock, branch and bough. Second, in the thing that is sometimes called the Spark and sometimes referred to simply as the Legacy. The family has been carrying this spark as far back as any records I can find.‘” Danielle looked up. “Debs, what happened to the old records?”

“We hold on to them. When the family splits, like it did with Aunt Arvis, we make copies of some and just split up others. So, for instance, we have a hand-made copy of Aunt Fortune’s diaries, but we don’t have her Aunt’s diaries at all anymore.”

“It seems like we ought to digitalize it.” Linda frowned. “Or is that against the Auntie creed?”

Deborah clasped her hands over her belly. “I don’t believe I’m one to stand on tradition. Dani, is there more?”

Danielle frowned at the page. “‘The thing,‘” she read, “‘that one must always remember about this spark, the reason that, like cloistered monks and nuns, the holder of our power is always virgin, always female, always childless, is that it is only in our control because of concentration. The moment that concentration fails, we run the risk of doom.'”

“Oh.” Deborah curled around herself, unwilling, for the moment, to pretend to be strong. “Oh.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/522247.html. You can comment here or there.

B is for Beryl and her Boys, a story of the Aunt Family for the A-Zed Giraffe Call

Apr15

To kelkyag‘s prompt.

Aunt Family has a landing page here

After Sister Help.

My Giraffe Call is open! Leave an alphabetical prompt!
.

As much as it galled Beryl to admit it, Chalcedony was right.

Getting out – going to the mall, first, with Chalce and Stone and Jake, and then to miniature golf a few days later, and then to the park for a Moose Lodge picnic the next weekend – made her feel better than she’d felt since Aunt Asta had died.

Getting out with her brother and sister was pretty cool; Chalce wasn’t a bad sort, for a big sister, and Stone was pretty awesome, especially for a guy in their family. But getting out with Jake felt better than anything, which was just about like being in Heaven. Getting out with Jake was awesome in ways Beryl had never before felt.

And, just for good measure, hanging out and acting like herself again ticked off her cat and her necklace.

Radar spent most evenings glaring at her. Joseph – well, she felt bad leaving him in the drawer all the time, so she’d started wearing him on Mondays. The first time she’d put him back on, he’d spent a full thirty minutes berating her.

She’d gone into the bathroom and carefully explained to him that if he did not shut up, she was going to flush him down the toilet and let the alligators have him.

After that, he kept his complaining to a sort of dull roar, which, in turn meant that Beryl could listen to Jake and her friends.

And the other boys – now that was a revelation. The more she talked to Jake, the more other boys started to talk to her. Beryl wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Until Radar grumbled to her one evening: “I hope a cute set of eyes, or whatever this latest one has, is worth giving up your legacy.”

Then Beryl knew exactly what to do.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/510365.html. You can comment here or there.

Precedent, a continuation of the Aunt Family (Moreplease)

Mar30

After Intimately Involved.

“Surely this is a question someone in the family has faced before.”

It was a cornerstone of their family: they had been around so long, almost every problem they faced had been faced before. Too many sisters? They had faced that over and over again. Too many brothers? They knew how that had been dealt with. Problem with police, zoning, neighbors? They could look up how their predecessors had handled a similar situation. Demons, ghosts, possessions – somewhere in the diaries, there was a note about a prior incident.

But not about a pregnant Aunt. Either it never happened, or no-one ever wrote about it.

Linda and Deborah had spent every moment of free time for the last week – Linda and Deborah, and then their sister Danielle and their cousin Hessa – digging through the old Aunt diaries. They had learned more about the family’s personal business than they ever really wanted to know, but they had yet to find a pregnant Aunt.

“Someone has to have dealt with this.” Hessa poked Deborah in the stomach. “Seriously. We’re human, even the Aunts.”

“Maybe it didn’t make it into the diaries. There’s a few places where there’s these funny gaps, like the Aunt decided not to write things down for a month or two.”

“Some days that’s just because nothing happens. I have months like that.” Deborah had not shared her own diaries. Those were for posterity.

“I’m not sure.” Linda frowned. “The grannies and great-grannies would know.”

“We can’t ask them.” Danielle pursed her lips. “We can’t get them involved.”

“Oh.” Hessa was staring at the diary in front of her, an old one, the leather cracking. “…oh…”

Oh? http://www.lynthornealder.com/2013/04/28/the-strength-a-continuation-of-the-aunt-family-for-the-march-giraffe-call-rix_scaedu/

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/501862.html. You can comment here or there.

Intimately Involved, a story of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call (@wyld_dandelyon)

Dec29

For wyld_dandelyon‘s prompt.

Linda was the first to figure it out.

And, like everything in the family, even that was a lie. Deborah was the first to figure it out, and James was next.

But they were intimately involved; they had all the information ahead of time. The rest of the family only thought they were intimately involved.

Except Cherie; Cherie had the only reasonable expectation of involvement. But the family had never been known to be reasonable about anything, especially where The Aunt was concerned.

“How could you?”

Linda opened with that before she even said hello or “mind if I come in?” She was pushy but not stupid; she didn’t enter the Aunt House without an invitation; she just stood in the doorway and shouted.

There was no use denying it or asking what she meant. Deborah brewed up a pot of tea and stared at her sister. “Well, when a man and a woman lie together, and he experiences pleasure known as orgasm inside of her…”

“Nobody said anything when James came around. You’re entitled to a little bit of romance in your life. But we thought you’d be responsible. You wanted this, Deborah.”

“That’s an assumption.”

“You never… You didn’t…” She sputtered it, as if uncomfortable saying what they all knew: of the four sisters, Deborah hadn’t gotten married early or pregnant even earlier.

“I understand how the family works.”

“Then how could you…”

“I can only assume by the annoyed ghost of an ancestor. I took all reasonable precautions and some unreasonable ones.”

“Except abstaining!”

“I did say some unreasonable precautions.”

“So now what?” Linda had come down from the anger and was looking worried. It made it easier for Deborah to sympathize with her sister; it wasn’t as if she didn’t feel worried as well.

She poured two cups of coffee and passed one through the open door.

“I really don’t know.”

“…Oh. Dear.”

Next – http://www.lynthornealder.com/2013/03/30/precedent-a-continuation-of-the-aunt-family-moreplease/

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/438596.html. You can comment here or there.

Sister Help, a story of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call.

Dec16

To kelkyag‘s prompt.

Aunt Family has a landing page here

After Courting.

“Bear-bear.” Beryl’s older sister stuck her head into Beryl’s room without knocking. “Take off the damn talking necklace, leave the crazy cat here. We. Are going shopping.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, and put on a real shirt.”

Beryl didn’t even know where to start. “Shopping?” That seemed like a good place to start.

“Jake’s agreed to drive us to the mall.”

That didn’t help. “Jake?”

“Look, you’re getting a bit weird lately.” Chalcedony barged the rest of the way in and started digging through Beryl’s clothes. “Here, wear this. This one is good.” She tossed a green shirt at Beryl. “You haven’t worn it since you got that stupid necklace. What does it disagree with him?”

“How did you…?”

“Stone told me. Don’t worry, you’re still the spark in the family. Well, I mean, the girl spark.”

“I’m not worried! I just… didn’t know.”

::Nor should there have been anything for you to know. Your brother. That’s not supposed to hap:: Joseph fell quiet as she pulled off the necklace.

“Okay.” She slipped off the shirt that Joseph liked and pulled on the one her sister had picked. “So shopping. And Stone’s been being Stone-y. But I haven’t been being weird… have I?”

“Just a little. Ever since Aunt Evie. I mean, yay, Jake, but you haven’t even been talking to him much the last few weeks. Is it the cat or the necklace.

“…Both.” She changed her jeans and tried to do something with her hair. “Radar doesn’t like him, and Joseph likes him too much.”

“Ouch, awkward. Well, lucky for you, then, you have me and Stone, too.”

“Yeah? What do you think?”

“I think you should do something else with your hair. Look. Forget the family bullshit. Aunt Evie is really young, and you’re really, really young.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Look, the point is – even if you’re gonna be an Aunt later, you’re not, now. you’re a kid. So why not be a kid?” Chalcedony tugged Beryl’s hair into a braid. “There. You’re almost pretty and stuff. Let’s go.”

“One second.” She dropped the necklace into her sweater drawer and made sure it was firmly closed. “Let’s go.”

next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/510365.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/433811.html. You can comment here or there.

I Am No Aunt, a story of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call

Oct17

My Giraffe Call is Open here! Stop in and leave a prompt!

This is to clare_dragonfly‘s prompt.

The Aunt Family has a landing page here

“Emelda should have held out longer.” Edith was furious. They were all furious. The women, at least. And some of the men.

Angry or not, Beazie tried to placate everyone. “What could she have held out for? All the girls over the age of fifteen are married. The only potential is an infant, currently an only child.”

“Then she should have held out for Jennifer to grow old enough and June to have another daughter.” Edith pursed her lips, even though it was clear she knew she was being ridiculous. Emelda – Aunt Emelda – had died of cancer, a sudden-onset disease none of the immediate family had known about. Emelda’s two sisters and one brother had had several children, but, as Beazie had pointed out, the girls had been quick to make sure they wouldn’t be the next Aunt.

“We can call another family…” Sarah spoke like she knew she was going to get shot down. Their branch hadn’t so much “branched off” as “jumped ship,” back when Emelda and Edith’s mother was young.

“No.” Edith’s tone of voice left no room for argument. “No, there is no going back. We’re going to have to go with what we have.”

“Aunt Edith, you can’t mean…” Louisa was Chauncey’s older sister. She had gotten married at twenty-seven, confiding in nobody but Chauncey that she’d been hoping Emelda would pass early.

Chauncey could have told her better but, while his sister liked to confide in him, she’d never actually listened.

“Of course I can. If you’d gotten one snippet of the family treasure, you would have known already. Holding out in case she died, indeed. You should have started early. We’d have a girl of the proper age if you had.”

Louisa, who’d thought that was a secret, turned to her brother in betrayal. He held up both his hands. “I said nothing. It was pretty obvious, Lou.”

“Yeah.” The men had been quiet while the women argued. Now their cousin Alfred butted in. “Even Aunt Emelda knew. But, um. We’re the black sheep of the line for a reason, aren’t we?” He held up his hands in a gesture much like Chauncey’s. “Not me. I don’t have any more of it than Lou does, and, besides, I’m married with three kids.”

“Maybe Cathy…” Louisa was grasping at straws now. Chauncey thought about having his feelings hurt, but it was just the family line, wasn’t it?

“Don’t be stupid, Louisa Susan. We do not pass the line to those not of the family. Even though your Catherine, Alfred, is a lovely woman. No, it’s going to have to be Chauncey or John Henry.”

“Two kids out of wedlock. Sorry, Mom.” John Henry didn’t look sorry. Chauncey didn’t blame him.

“Well, I… we’ll deal with that later, John. So.” The attention of every female relative over the age of twenty turned onto Chauncey.

More than the attention, and more than his living relatives. The power, the “treasure” of the generations pressed down on him, wrapped around him, warped into him. “It seems.” His mother sounded far too proud of herself. “It seems we have an Uncle for the Aunt House.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/408883.html. You can comment here or there.

Alder's Grove Fiction

The Worlds of Lyn Thorne-Alder

Archives