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Listen to your Teachers

Dec10

Year 23 of the Addergoole School; 6 years after the beginning of the apocalypse

“Kallan, please stop by my office. I want to discuss matters with you.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Maybe later.” Kallan kept walking, a very firm hand on her companion’s bicep.

Jeriel, in turn, walked along with her but aimed an uncertain look Kallan’s way. “I thought you said we were supposed to listen to the professors. And, uh. The Director.” Jeriel stole a peek back at the disproving woman. Kallan picked up her speed.

“I said you ought to. I did not, you’ll note, say anything at all about me.”

“But you’re a student here. Wait, you said Eighteenth Cohort, didn’t you?” Jeriel skip-jogged a few steps in an attempt to keep up with Kallan’s ever-increasing stride.

“You weren’t supposed to be paying attention to that part.”

“What, I was just supposed to listen to the part where you gave me like, an entire manual on how to survive in this school and then totally ignore the parts on how you knew all of it and like, why everyone, even the upperclassmen, are both a little scared of you and, uh.” Jeriel’s mouth snapped shut.

Kallan chuckled dryly. “…and they think I’m a little bit dumb, because nobody fails Literature and certainly not twice. Even if you’re not sleeping with Mike.”

“Mhrm Mmmm-nnn MMM mmh.” Jeriel’s answer came through tight-closed lips.

“It’s fine.” Kallan slowed pace to make it down the stairs without breaking Jeriel’s neck – or her own. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it all. And you’ve taken a couple weeks of Mike’s class. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep failing out of it?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1022750.html. You can comment here or there.

Walk the Fields, talk some more

Dec7

First: The Reveal
Second: Find an Exit, Talk it Over

“Who still farms, anyway? I mean, gas, right? The pipelines stopped. Tractors gotta run somehow, don’t they?”

They were walking – ambling, really – down an almost-invisible path between two fields of something Urania was pretty sure was wheat. The demon pretending to be a gym teacher hadn’t said anything since they started walking, so Urania grabbed at the first topic she could find.

“Magic,” he answered mildly. “And horses. Mostly horses.”

“Horses? What is this, the eighteen-hundreds?”

“Last time I checked, a couple years after the pipelines stopped running.” He looked, she thought, amused. He also looked human; with the wings gone, he didn’t look anything at all like a demon.

“…Touche, creepy demon man.” He still was a demon. It was important to remember that.

“You ran into some pretty bad fae out there, didn’t you?” He sounded sympathetic. She wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with that.

“I ran into ‘fae’,” she answered shortly, “if you want to call them that. They were bad. That’s because they were demons.”

“Mmm.”

“What?” She glanced at his face, wondering if she was seriously worrying about insulting a demon.

“Just thinking I’d heard that before.”

“Well, you’re a demon.” It was just logical that someone would have pointed out that demons were evil, right?

“Not because of the ‘demon’ thing.” He didn’t make air quotes, but he somehow twisted the word anyway. “No.” He stopped and looked at Urania straight on. “Something like ‘the Dakota attacked my people. You’re a Seneca, therefore I can’t trust you.”

“But… Seneca and Dakota are totally different tribes! That’s like saying all Italians are the same as all Irish!”

“Exactly.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

Urania wasn’t having any of that. “You saw what the demons did to the world! You have to have seen it!”

“I did.” His voice was quiet now, and his expression serious. “And I’m sure Alastair did as well. It was horrible. The aftermath is devastating. I’m not denying that.”

Urania snuck a look at Alastair. He was still following along, but seemed content to stay quiet, listening. That seemed to be his thing, so she didn’t push it.

“So you’re saying, what, some other tribe of demons did it?”

“Not all of it, no. Some of it was done by well-meaning idiots who never learned to watch out for their surroundings, even when they were taught better.” His voice took on a bit of heat. “Some of it was done by humans desperate for an answer, any answer.”

“And this other tribe? Who are they? Why aren’t you them?”

“Well,” he coughed, and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “There’s a whole school down there, and that’s on the curriculum.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1020014.html. You can comment here or there.

Find an Exit, Talk it Over

Dec4

directly after The Reveal, from yesterday.

Urania ran straight into the demon’s wing membrane, dragging the skinny kid along with her. If she shoved through fast and hard enough, the door ought to push open. It might hurt a bit, but that was nothing compared to what would happen if a room full of demons got their hands on her.

She’d been hiding in the bleachers when they attacked her school. Urania had a very clear idea of what demons were capable of.

The demon made a surprised grunt, but they were going too fast for him to stop them. One sharp shove through with the heel of her hand, an awful bending and tearing noise, and they were through.

Forward and to the left, that was where they’d come in. Urania didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, just ran, catching the skinny kid as he stumbled, pulling him upright when he fell.

She’d be quicker without him.

She wasn’t going to leave anyone to the demons.

The warehouse-like room was right where they’d left it – Urania hadn’t ever seen a room move, but she’d heard about the possibility – and the stairs were still there, too. She darted up the stairs, stopping to help the skinny kid one more time, and shoved the door open.

There was a demon standing there, his tattered wing flapping about in the breeze. Urania stared at him. “How did you…?” It was enough to throw her off her stride.

“I guessed,” he admitted. He folded his wings against his back, and once again looked more or less like the gym teacher. “Take a walk with me? You have my word that I won’t attack you today.”

“Today.” She raised her eyebrows. “They say demon promises are binding.”

“It’s true.” He tilted his head at the wheatfield. “You’ll be able to see anyone else coming, if we walk out there.”

If he had beat her here, if he’d known where she was going, he could just stop her, couldn’t he? Maybe once they were in the field she could dart again, once he thought she’d relaxed. Then he couldn’t “attack” – probably.

“I could walk a little. But then we’re leaving.”

“Shouldn’t you let Alastair decide for himself?”

She glanced at the skinny kid. The name was nearly bigger than he was.

The kid, in turn, shrugged defensively. “Leaving sounds… I dunno. They may be demons, but there’s food.”

She pursed her lips, unwilling to admit he had a point. “I won’t make you. But I don’t want to leave you behind to be…” She trailed off, biting her lip. If he hadn’t seen what the demons could do, she didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

He raised his chin. “Talk to the man. He’s waiting patiently.”

“I don’t think he counts as a man.”

“Well, he killed three warcats who were trying to kill me. So. Call him what you will.” The kid who was too small for Alastair shrugged.

Urania turned slowly back to the demon, to find he was looking like a gym teacher again, wings nowhere in sight.

“I guess we talk?” she offered cautiously. “Since you promised. Just talk. And then I leave.” And she might just carry Alastair of with her, too.

“Just talk.” The demon nodded. “Let’s walk this way, the three of us.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1017255.html. You can comment here or there.

The Reveal

Dec3

Set in Year 19 of the Addergoole School.

“As I told you all on your first day here, Addergoole is an experimental school.”

Urania had found herself a nice corner of the dining hall where she could see everyone. Today, she was sharing the table with a Sixteenth Cohort, Hroderich, an Seventeenth Cohort, Bracken, and two other nineteenth Cohorts, one of whom refused to give a name but was skinnier and hungrier than Urania and one of whom looked far too clean, far too smug, and far too well-fed and called himself Kameron. She hadn’t meant to share her table with any of them except the underfed feral one, but they just seemed to gravitate to her table.

She was trying to eat, without looking like she was stuffing her face – one of the advantages of having the feral one there was that he made her look tidy and well-fed by comparison – but the Director had decided it was a good day to start lecturing.

“…there will be a number of things that will seem very strange to you. Now that you’ve had a chance to settle in, things will be getting progressively stranger over the next week or two.”

Urania set down her drink and raised her eyebrows, not that she thought the director would actually notice.

“She means it,” Hroderich assured her.

“This is an underground facility in the middle of nowhere that just happens to have food and electricity.” Urania kept her voice low. Hroderich was sitting right next to her, way within her personal space, the way he seemed to like to. She barely needed to raise her voice at all. “It’s pretty freaking strange already.”

“It’s going to get stranger.”

“…don’t let anything you see or hear alarm you.”

“Hrod, I saw a demon from hell rip apart my jr. high. Do I really look like the sort of person who is going to be alarmed by…” She trailed off, shoving her chair back as far as it would go. “No. Oh, fuck, no.”

“Ninteenth Cohort, if you have any questions, please feel free to…”

Urania wasn’t listening anymore. She grabbed skinny kid’s shirt and pulled him backwards with him. She wasn’t sure if she was using him as a shield or getting him out of there, but both had merit.

Every single upperclassman, every teacher, even the freaking cafeteria lady. They were all monsters. Horns, tails, wings. She hadn’t seen this many of the creatures in one place since they burned down her school. Hell, even there there had only been twenty or thirty.

Someone’s hand landed on her shoulder. Urania pushed away. The door was right there, and it might be closed but closed doors hadn’t stopped her before. If it didn’t open, it could be made to open. She got a better grip on the skinny kid, who either didn’t feel inclined to argue or was just as intent on getting away as she was. “Ready?” she muttered. “On three. One, two…”

On three, there was a demon in the doorway, those wide, awful wings blocking the way. Urania ran straight for his left wing. Membranes, she had learned back in jr. high, tore quite easily.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1016636.html. You can comment here or there.

Addergoole In the Apocalypse – give me a few ideas?

Dec2

apocalypse.jpg

It’s 2013, 2013, 2014, 2015. The world started going to shit in 2011.
Now, our characters are coming to Addergoole… or trying to get there.
Or running away from it. Or just graduating. Or..??

It’s a pretty specific prompt-request, but have at it:
Prompts regarding Addergoole students just after the apocalypse.

I’ll keep writing to them as long as you keep ’em coming!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1015858.html. You can comment here or there.

A Presentation to the Honored Grigori, 2111

Nov6

It was 2111, and Regine was using Powerpoint.

She found that amusing.

Certainly, computer programming was not a skill in high circulation at the moment – it seemed limited to a few sad enclaves still trying to hold on to the old world – and so there were few new options. But more than that, it was such a Grigori thing to do, to use antiquated technology decades past its prime.

Regine hoped there were Grigori in the audience young enough – or flexible enough – to appreciate the humor in this. She was going to need every advantage she could get today.

She did not clear her throat; it would considered an unnecessary and thus useless gesture by this crowd. Instead she stilled her posture and waited for silence.

“I am here today to state unequivocally that the terms ‘pure-blooded’, ‘half-breed’, and ‘Faded’ are outdated terms based on an archaic understanding and, as such, should immediately be dropped out of usage by Grigori.”

This was a Grigori meeting; there was no shouting. There were, however, murmurs and lifted eyebrows, shared glances and worried expressions. Regine catalogued them all. Michael would want to know about them.

She waited just long enough to allow the hubbub, such as it was, to die down, and then she began to present her proof.

She started with what Mike called her Jamian Point, because Jamian had been her first success. She brought up pictures – un-Masked pictures: “This is a Faded. This is a half-breed.” And then a picture of Jamian and the others. “This is their ‘full-blooded’ child.” Pictures of the next generation, both full-blooded and half-breed. “Their children with various other parents.” And the next generation, and the next. And then, because it was important, her ‘success children’s’ half-siblings. “These are other children from the same original parent groups, but in different combinations. The selection we call ‘full-blooded’ are merely a specific combination of genes which can be replicated with no recent ‘full-blooded’ ancestors.”

She raised her voice over the growing murmur. “Copies of all of my data are available for those who doubt my methods.”

She waited, as Michael and Ambrus had suggested, for silence to reign again before she began the next part of her speech.

“The ‘full-blooded’ Changes represent three combinations that occur commonly in bloodlines. They are not the only patterns to occur in bloodlines, although they may be the oldest. Putting weight on those above others handicaps us.

“Because of ‘half-blooded’ precognitives, we were able to correctly predict the return of the so-called gods and thus be better prepared to meet them. Because of ‘half-blooded’ space-shapers and time-movers, if you will pardon the casual term, we were able to face the ‘gods’ in manners and in places they were not expecting.”

Slide, slide, slide. Photographs of people who were very clearly half-breeds: Shira Pelletier. Porter, Shiva. Rohanna. Scenes of combat, some of those taken from mid-air in the middle of a teleport jump. Scenes of half-breeds beating down Hunters and Mara.

“They were older than us, on average. They were more powerful, on average, than we were. And yet we beat them. The world is bent but not broken, and it is still, after everything, ours.” She raised her chin and glared out at the perfect room of perfect people. “Will you tell me that any one of those who saved the world is worth less than you, because of a simple change in gene sequence?”

A pause. They wanted to say yes. They were so very comfortable with being on top.

“It’s a new world, honored Grigori. Let’s act like it.”

Open to more properly scientific terms for “The Jamian Point” and “space-shapers and time-movers”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1005842.html. You can comment here or there.

Priorities

Nov2

Laurelia was in the library when the lady found her. She was deep into the science section, reading up on botulism and how to avoid it when your only food source was Mystery Cans Of Food From Before The War, taking notes and wishing (privately, because she’d never admit it out loud), that she’d paid more attention in class before the school blew up.

The polite clearing of a throat was so out-of place, she didn’t register it as real at first. It was her imagination, a librarian who was offended at her note-taking or the way she’d made a nest out of the books. It was that teacher she’d been ignoring back in classes – Mrs. Enil.

The second throat-clearing made her look up. There, in clothes that were clean and tidy – brown pants and a white silk shirt, boots and a jaunty hat – with her hair pulled back in a low bun and even her make-up perfect, was a librarian, offended at her note-taking.

Laurelia went back to her book. Clearly, she was going nuts.

“Laurelia Dziedzic, daughter of Amie Sanchez-Dziedzic?”

“Hallucinations are not supposed to know my name,” she informed the librarian. “Much less my… do you know where my mother is?” If it did, she could forgive it being a clean and well-dressed hallucination.

“I’m afraid not. However, your mother, when you were born, signed you up for an exclusive school some distance away from here, and, as fate would have it, the school is still intact.”

She looked up at the hallucination. She might not have imagined a librarian with such a wild look about her, just held in by the professional outfit. She might not have imagined an exclusive school. “Slavers.”

“I promise you, there are no slavers working for or employing my school, nor working with them.”

Promises were important. “Is there food?”

“There is good food. Safe food.” The librarian looked both amused and concerned. “Will you come with me, Laurelia?”

“You promise on the food?” She was already shelving the book on botulism.

“I promise there is good and safe food where we are going.”

“Then let’s go.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1002799.html. You can comment here or there.

Character building: Rafe (a drabble)

Sep25

Near the end of Year 5
There were nights when Rafe woke up not knowing where he was anymore. Those were the bad nights – not the worst, but close to it. He’d stare at the ceiling, or at Renata’s fall of blonde hair, refusing to move, afraid to even breathe, until he remembered that this was his Kept, not his Keeper, that this was okay, that he was safe.

He never talked about those moments with anyone. Of the three of them – Eris and Joff and him – he was supposed to be the strong one, supposed to be the calm one. Of the three of them, he’d had it the easiest. Nobody had taken to cutting him up as a weekend hobby. Nobody had locked him in the closet whenever he forgot his script. He was strong. Protective. He wasn’t supposed to be the one with nightmares.

Last night had started with a bad night, and things were not looking up. He smiled at Eris, squeezed Joff’s hand, and gave Renata a gentle hug. “We’ll be back in a few hours. We’re going to go visit the kids.”

“I wish I could come with you.” Renata wrinkled her nose and looked down at the floor. “I’d like to meet your kids. Your other kids.”

“You will, eventually. I’m sure of it.” He rubbed her back for a moment in apology. “But not today. Stay here, okay?”

“Okay.” She settled carefully into the couch. “Maybe I’ll get some homework done.”

“Good idea.” Praise, touch. Gentleness. Those were the things that made a Keeping bearable, that made it feel like a warm nest instead of a cold cage. Rafe knew exactly what the lack of those things felt like, and he was not going to do that to his Kept. “We won’t be that long.”

He pulled his imaginary armor over himself as they left her behind. The smile faded into something hard and wolfish. His back straightened; he raised his chin. He didn’t have to look at Joff and Eris to know they were doing the same.

They were visiting their children. They were visiting Liza.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/985498.html. You can comment here or there.

On Addergoole and teenage parenting – after school

Sep23

I was thinking this morning of Cya having to deal with a new teacher:

“I wanted to talk to you about this picture of his family Yoshi drew.”

Horns? Tails? Cya’s worried for a moment; humans get so bent out of shape about these things, thinking they’re symbols when they’re just the way the family looks.

But no. She looks over the picture. Yoshi’s probably not a budding Picasso, as much as she’d like him to be, but it’s a pretty good representation.

“Yeah, that’s about right. That’s Yoshi and his brother Viddie – it’s Viðrou, that’s an eth, don’t mark him off for a wrong D when it’s not, please – those are my friends Howard, Leo, and Zita – she really is that short. Leo is Viddie’s father, that’s why he’s over there next to Viddie, and then that’s Leo’s daughter Sigruko and Zita’s kids Amy, Ariel, and Brandy. That’s everyone.”

“But the assignment was to draw his family.“

Cya aims a look of patient disparagement at the teacher. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
~

All over America, from ’99 through 2011, kids in their early twenties are struggling with the system.

Acacia leans in close to the teacher. Her voice is low and full of menace. “Do not ever ask about my child’s father in front of her again. That is not a conversation she needs to hear. Do you understand?”

~

Orlaith sighs at the paperwork. “No. Ce’Rilla, with an apostrophe. Hunter-Hale, with a hyphen. Samael, not Samuel, a-e-l. Seriously.”

~

Aelgifu has dealt with the whispers and the strange looks, but it’s the soccer mom that actually comes out and asks that brings it all to a head.

“How did two lesbians end up with four kids before you even graduated college? I mean, it’s not like you can get pregnant by accident.”

She waits a heartbeat, then another, to see if the woman realizes how stupid what she just says is. When the woman flushes and stammers out something starting with “I mean…”, Ayla smiles reassuringly.

“At least you didn’t ask the kids.” There’s menace in her words. “And as to how: Io had Cecily before we were dating. Look up ‘bisexual’ sometime. She had Al right after we started dating, but you know, these things happen, and we worked through it. I had Niobe because we wanted a baby together, a kid that was ours. And then I had Siggie by arrangement with a gay friend of mine – twins, and he kept one, I kept one. It’s really quite easy.”

She smiles brightly at the woman and waits for her to go away stammering, happy at the lies and the honesty she’s managed to pile up together.

~

Addergoole grads raising their chins and looking in the face of people who call them irresponsible for being teen parents.

Addergoole grads refusing to answer questions about “but where’s the father in all this?” or “how could a mother leave her child?”

Addergoole grads not bothering to explain the complicated family trees and just explaining “they’re my kids.”

Or “They’re our kids.” Even if they have no kids in common, two people coming together after school and raising all their children as a family.

Addergoole grads struggling to be family when all the world sees is kids.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/984436.html. You can comment here or there.

Character building: Magnolia (a drabble)

Sep20

Near the end of year 5…

“You didn’t tell me!”

Mike sighed. Over the four years of school – the only four years she was supposed to be here! – Magnolia had gotten used to many of Mike’s sighs. This one, this one was new.

“I told you, Magnolia. I told you last year. I told you the year before. And Professor Pelletier and Professor Solomon told you, too.”

Magnolia leaned against the wall of Mike’s office and blew quiet raspberries. They had, she had to admit. Her classwork wasn’t up to par. She wasn’t paying enough attention in class and she wasn’t doing the homework at all. It was just…

“I didn’t think y’all meant it.” She wasn’t going to cry. That would be ridiculous. but she didn’t bother hiding the little wiggle of her bottom lip. “I mean, I took care of the graduation requirements. You helped… remember?”

She had the not-very-pleasurable pleasure of making Mike flinch. “The problem is, Magnolia, that’s never been the only graduation requirement…”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/983568.html. You can comment here or there.