Archives

On this Date: Addergoole Drabbles of Jamian

Oct3

October 3, 2004

“Give me… four years.” Arnbjorg and Jaya were studiously avoiding each other’s glances, holding their mocha lattes and watching the steam. “Four years, until I’m done with school. I know, the extra year…”

“I can wait for another year. Especially with the kids.”

“I’ll know by then.”

“I hope so.”

October 3, 2013

“Xandro, we have to go.” Jamian handed another duffle to his oldest child. “Here, Dom. Food, clothes.”

“Dadimom…”

“Jame’…”

Dom and Xandro’s objections rode over each other; they both stopped; Jamian sighed. He tried again. “Xandro. Bathroom. Dom. Food. It’s not safe anymore.”

It might not ever be safe again.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/574971.html. You can comment here or there.

I really am Writing, mark one:

Oct3

“…He needs someone to protect him.”

“And you think that that should be me?”

“I think it probably shouldn’t be me. And you need someone who isn’t me.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need anymore.”

From Kuro_Neko’s commissioned continuation of the Ceinwen-and-Thorburn-in-Year10 story

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/574506.html. You can comment here or there.

A thing with ribbons, a drabble of Addergoole, Yr??

Sep27

“There’s an art to this.” She had her hands full of ribbons, red and blue and green and black. It was the only thing on her body, except the high-heeled shoes.

“An art?” He lay sprawled across the bed, watching her. He liked watching her; his eyes tracked the sway of her ass, the way the ribbons trailed across her breasts, the way one foot moved in front of the other. She, on the other hand, wasn’t looking at him. She didn’t, often, never had, really.

“An art. A craft, if you will, a skill, a decoration.”

“I don’t want to be decorated.” Her hands were obscured by the ribbons; he couldn’t see what she was taking out of the dresser. “What are you doing?”

“Most arts have their tools.”

“Tools? Not just the ribbons?” Those ribbons trailed down her back lie curls of hair, although her hair was now cropped short, baring her neck. Once, he’d watched the black-blue locks make little s-curves across her spine. Now he tried for a look at her hands, only to be foiled again and again by the turn of her hip, the drapes of the ribbons.

“Of course not. Don’t… that would be silly.” She twisted one arm behind her back, just as she pivoted on her heel to face him. She was smiling. He wasn’t used to her face with a smile on it. He wasn’t used to the way it lit her up, the way it hitched something deep in his throat.

“I’m not silly.” He frowned at her over the thumping of his heart. “I want to know what you’re doing.”

“We all have wants.” She crossed the distance between them, too fast, far too fast for her short legs. “Do you want to know what I want?”

The ribbons draping off of her breasts were nearly touching him. He swallowed and tried anyway. “Do you want to know what I want?”

“Of course.” She smirked at him, as if she knew it wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “And do you?”

It was a test, wasn’t it? “Yes?”

“Well, then.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/573996.html. You can comment here or there.

Basalt, his First year

Sep23

Eighth in a series of character-building vignettes following a bunch of characters through their time at Addergoole & beyond.

Basalt shows up in Addergoole: Year 9 as Ahouva’s rescuer-slash-Keeper; Thorburn shows up as Ceinwen’s Keeper, and Brydan and Indigo have passing mention through the series.

“Oh, Bry, he’s something else.”

Basalt hadn’t been aware he’d dazed out until the voice brought him back into consciousness. Being around Brydan seemed to do that to him, especially in the last week. Since the dance. Since he’d kissed her, and told her she was an angel and…

…the rest was a little fuzzy. Basalt had drunk more than he ought to, but the booze had been flowing freely, and he’d always been able to hold his liquor before that.

He blinked up at Brydan. He hadn’t been told to move yet, but he didn’t really mind. Kneeling with his head on her lap was one of the more comfortable ways he could think of to pass the afternoon.

She was frowning, however, which wasn’t as good. “Indigo. I don’t recall inviting you in.”

“You gave me a blanket invitation, remember? And I wanted to show off mine, but you’ve beaten me to it, as usual.”

Even where he was, Basalt could hear the growl from the doorway. His shoulders tensed. He didn’t mind being in Brydan’s lap, but it was going to be hard to defend her if he was stuck here.

She patted his shoulder. “It’s all right, sweetie. You can move.”

He didn’t want to, not really. But he did, standing, stretching, and getting into a nice bodyguard position looming just behind Brydan’s left shoulder.

He didn’t want to look at the other people in the room, either, but he did. There was something about the woman’s voice that made what he and Brydan were doing sound dirty somehow, instead of just right and proper. And the growl…

Yeah, he’d been afraid of that. The woman was the blonde-and-sometimes-blue girl, Indigo, one of Brydan’s friends and in the same Mentorship as Brydan. The other… yeah. Basalt met Thorburn’s eyes and shrugged.

The other guy showed all his teeth, in something that was definitely not a smile. Basalt just shrugged again. It could get embarrassing, sure. But if Brydan was anything like Indigo…

“He’s pretty awesome, isn’t he?” Brydan patted Basalt’s shoulder.

He straightened up a little bit and smiled at her. “So are you, miss.”

Basalt: His First Year
Nyyrikki: Her First Year
Orliath: Her Second Year
Cynara: Her Second Year

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/573312.html. You can comment here or there.

Rozen: His First Year

Sep20

Seventh in a series of character-building vignettes following a bunch of characters through their time at Addergoole & beyond.

If you’ve read any Addergoole at all, Rozen should be familiar to you.

Addergoole, Year 2
The school was in the middle of freaking nowhere. It was in the middle of nowhere, and there were less than 40 students, over half of whom had already been here a year. It was in the middle of nowhere, there were less than 40 students, and the older ones all acted like there was some sort of massive joke going on. And it was a four-year sentence. Rozen was ready to punch someone.

He already had punched one guy – half of a pair, creepy rednecks with a “banjos” vibe going on and the same smug attitude as the rest of the upperclassmen. He’d broken the bastard’s nose, and the PE teacher had shown up about three seconds later.

Luke might have been a head shorter than Rozen, but he had “don’t fuck with the Marines” written all over him. Rozen had stepped back, shown his hands clearly, and waited for the officer to ask unpleasant questions. The two shits he’d been fighting had laughed and run off.

That’s how he’d learned their names – Meshach and Shadrach – and learned that there were times when the authorities here would just not care if you broke someone’s face. The school was still in the middle of nowhere, but it had a few advantages.

“Well, hello.” A long-fingered hand landed on Rozen’s bicep, and her turned to look the owner in the face, ready to punch again. He’d already had to explain to two predatory women that he was nobody’s dog, thank you very much, nobody’s boy, and he wouldn’t come when called. This one…

…Could look him in the eye, which was impressive. Most of the time he was looking at the top of women’s heads. She was wearing heels – he checked – but that still meant she was nearly six foot tall in her own right.

Her lips were red. Her hair was black. Her smile was hungry. “I’ve heard about you already. That’s impressive; it’s only the second week of school.”

“If you’ve heard of me, you know I don’t bow to anyone.” His voice was coming out a little thickly. He was human (or whatever) and she was, he had to admit, gorgeous even in a school full of pretty girls.

“I know. And that’s all right, I don’t have any interest in boys that do. But would you be interested, maybe, in laying down for a while?”

“This school moves fast.” Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t interested.

“The school moves the way it moves. I, on the other hand, move the way I want to. Right now, that would be under you. She offered him a hand. “I’m Dita, by the way.”

“Rozen.” He shook her hand. This school had a couple advantages, he supposed.

Basalt: His First Year
Nyyrikki: Her First Year
Orliath: Her Second Year
Cynara: Her Second Year

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/573042.html. You can comment here or there.

NaNoWriMo and Addergoole

Sep17

Okay, I did the math. If I keep the books at the planned wordcount, one Book of Addergoole: Original Series is about 25000 words.

I’m still going to write a bit of bonus content, so I probably won’t get all the way through TWO books of Addergoole during Nano, but I’ll get quite a way towards that goal.

And speaking of bonus material:

http://www.addergoole.com/TableofContents.html

Are there Question-answers or Bonus stories you’d like to see updated/rewritten? Are there bonus stories I never wrote that you’d like to see?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/572043.html. You can comment here or there.

A New Year, a new …who?

Sep5

To [personal profile] rendia‘s prompt.. Shang is a Year9 Character (Short version: he doesn’t believe in magic and doesn’t believe he’s fae.)

Monday after Hell Night, Year 10 of the Addergoole School.

“You know what you have to do.”

“Damaris, this is ridiculous. And why are you so angry at me?”

“…you know, forget it. I’ll get over being angry soon enough. Look. You know what you’ve got to do.”

“It’s still ridiculous.” They’d gone around that loop enough times that it ought to be the chorus of a song. You know what you have to do/but it’s ridiculous and I don’t want to./You’re acting like a fool/ But wasn’t I yours, your fool?

Damaris huffed. “For once, just listen to me, would you?”

“I’m trying.” He could tell her breath was uneven and her pulse was racing. She was clearly upset and getting more so. Shang tried for a more placating tone. “Damaris, if this is what you want me to do, I’ll go along with it.”

“Even the collar?”

“Even the collar. I think it’s…” He stopped himself. “Because I said something to keep Curry and Basalt off of her?”

“Because you walked into Curry and Basalt’s trap. Or walked her into it, whatever. Yes. It’s how the school works, Shang.”

I liked the part where the school worked me in your arms. Not this part where I have to move a stranger in with me. “All right.” Because it made her happy.

~
That Friday

“Don’t touch those, geez, stop it.”

“But I need…” Leithe lifted her hands off the stack of CDs as if they’d burned her.

“Shut up, okay?” Shang glowered. He’d liked Leithe. She was normal, easy to talk to, the sort of girl he would have been interested in, before Addergoole. She was generally just a nice person.

And he was being a heel to her. Because she persisted on trying to cuddle up to him, and to act like she was his girlfriend.

She wasn’t his girlfriend. Damaris was his girlfriend. Even if she’d “released him from his promise.” Even if she’d taken the collar off. Even if she barely spoke to Shang anymore.

“I’m just trying to pick up. You told me I could pick up.”

Had he? He thought he’d said something like that. “Don’t. There’s CDs everywhere.”

“I could organize them.”

“No! God, no, they’re already organized!” He glared at her. “Why do you keep on doing that?”

“I’m just trying to make you happy.”

“Don’t! Don’t try to make me happy, don’t try to please me, don’t guess what you think I want. Just… go jump in a pond or something. Give me some space.”

She fled the room, already sobbing. Shang put his face in his hands. He was being an asshole. He hated being a jerk. But everything had gone wrong the minute he’d said she was his, and he just didn’t know how to make things right.

He tidied the room. He reorganized the stacks of CDs so she could actually get into the dresser where her clothes were stored. He washed the dishes, and sorted his clothes so she had more room. He was just beginning to wonder if he was supposed to go after her when someone pounded on his door.

Not Agra, please, not Damaris. He opened the door.

His Mentor was holding a soaking-wet Leithe, holding her so she couldn’t run away, and she was definitely trying to. “You and I,” Luke’s voice was a snarl, “need to have a talk about orders.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/570239.html. You can comment here or there.

Second Verse, Same as the first (help Wanted, Outlining)

Sep3

I am going to, for nano, rewrite Addergoole Book One.

Yeah. That. Re-write, from scratch, keeping just the framework.

I want to have a coherent outline going in.

How you can help: Noteworthy moments from the original that you would like to hold on to, fond moments, anything you think should go into the outline.

Thanks!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/568834.html. You can comment here or there.

Where’d That Come From

Aug26

To eseme‘s prompt

There were things Vina had been expecting from school. Lots of things – tough classes, having to make friends again, being isolated in the middle of nowhere.

This was not in the book.

She looked – he looked – what did you even do with that? Vina – if the name could even still fit – looked under the sheets again. Then she-he-whatever let the sheets drop and facepalmed.

Leg pain had woken Vina up several times in the night, but Vina had a lanky body that had never stopped growing, and pain in the night was nothing new. This morning… this morning the leg pain might be explained (the legs were sticking out of the bottom of the bed now) but everything else was just more confusing.

For one, Vina was pretty sure there hadn’t been a penis there when she -um, no, it had been she then – went to bed. And there definitely was one now. There had definitely been breasts – not big ones or anything, but they’d been there – and now there was a flat chest with a little bit of muscle.

“Ummm…” Even the voice was wrong. Vina pulled … vina’self out of bed and stared at a mirror, hoping that it would reveal something other than… Vina’s own eyes had.

No. Other than that Vina was taller than any girl had any right to be – tall enough that sh… Vina had to duck to look in the mirror properly… the body looking back at her was still a male body.

Vina sat down on the floor and pulled knees up to a chest that was far too bony. “I don’t…” Lips closed on a voice that was wrong, and Vina pushed aside a thought, a sudden worry if tears weren’t boy-like. I’m not a boy. Vina repeated the thought over and over again, wishing it would do some good. I don’t know how to be a boy.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/566011.html. You can comment here or there.

Paint it Blue

Aug22

to an [personal profile] anke’s prompt. thanks to @theladyisugly, Sky, and @AlphaRaposa for helping me create Clarisse.

The first thing Clarisse Martin did when she came to school was cut her hair short and dye it blue.

The upperclassmen found this a little bit amusing – after all, changing yourself when the school Changes you so much, so quickly, seemed a little overkill – but the teachers said nothing, and none of the other students actually said anything to her about it.

Clarisse found the lack of commentary strange, but, since she hadn’t done it for them, was unworried by it. She found the few giggles from older students completely understandable, and ignored them.

When the Reveal on the first Friday of classes showed Clarisse and the rest of the Tenth Cohort some of what they’d gotten into, Clarrise walked slowly to the doctor’s office, running her fingers through her hair. It explained a lot – but she liked her hair blue.

Her Change knocked her off her feet only literally, fusing her legs together from the ankle down into a sort of tail. “I believe there is more coming,” Dr. Caitrin theorized. “In the meantime, getting around might be a little tricky. We’ll work something out.”

It was the kind of situation that could get you down. It was the kind of situation where being stared at wasn’t so much a matter of why as which of the myriad of reasons are you noticing? Clarisse tried to keep her chin up and a smile on her face. It wasn’t about them, she reminded herself. This was her thing to deal with.

When the man with the terrifying blue eyes managed to convince her to be his – it was Hell Night, her wheelchair had gotten thrown across the hall, and he had a voice like a heavenly melody – she accepted the collar, the oro’ at the end of her name, and the rules without argument. They weren’t, in the end, about her; like a school uniform, they hung on her like accessories.

But when, angry after a bad day at school and frustrated over her wheelchair and her slow-as-molasses change, he began shouting at hr, Clarisse shook her head and met her Keeper’s eyes.

“You’re a no-good, stupid bitch…”

“No.”

“You don’t get to tell me no.“

“You get to tell me what to do.” She touched the collar around her neck with three fingers. “You don’t get to tell me who I am.”

He stared, stunned into speechlessness.

Clarisse kept talking. “You get to decide where I go. What I say. What I wear, if you’re so inclined. You don’t get to decide who I am.”

He said nothing, but touched her hair – still short, still blue, almost the same color as his eyes – with three fingers. His other hand touched the place where her ankles had fused together.

He didn’t have a hand to touch her self with.

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1267957.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/565158.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable