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Had to be Done

This is [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned continuation to What was Right, which was a continuation of Bowen’s Summer, Continued, which was a continuation of July Linkback Story. It takes place between Years 5 & 6 of the Addergoole School


…Bowen knocked anyway. Some things, you really didn’t have any choice about.

Knocked, and then, when she opened the door, knelt on one knee. “Kailani cy’Regine, I owe you a debt of honor.” The words were awkward, but they were right. “I owe you deeply, for the good you did me. I humbly request that you tell me what I can do to repay this.”

He really didn’t expect her to start crying.

Crying girls were not something Bowen had a lot of experience with. From the looks of the rest of his cy’ree, neither did they.

He bowed again, a little lower, and then looked up at her. “What…?”

“Kai, honey, what’s wrong?” Conrad appeared behind Kailani in the doorway of their cottage. “…Oh.” His cold expression took in all four of the cy’Fridmar on the porch. “It’s summer time, guys, don’t you have a hobby?”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Kailani patted Conrad’s arm a few times. Bowen noticed the flummoxed look on Conrad’s face before he noticed that the guy was still wearing a collar. “They’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Kai. You’re crying. You don’t cry.”

“He said… he said…”

“I said thank you.” Crying girl. Okay. Bowen could deal with this, really. “Well, I said that I owed her, but ‘thank you’ was part of that.”

“Took you long enough.” Conrad’s glare was not being at all mitigated.

“Conrad.” Kai patted his arm again. “It’s okay.”

“You weren’t expecting anything, were you?” Phelen had slurked up behind Bowen while he watched this so-awkward interchange.

Kai shook her head. “No. Everyone…” She glanced at Conrad and fell silent.

Phelen filled in the blanks. “Addergoole is full of takers. You broke the script, and that made many people angry.”

Kailani nodded. Conrad’s frown slowly faded. “She played with the big dogs.”

“We know.” Rozen’s rumble of a voice was almost a laugh. “We were there.”

Bowen watched Kailani look over his head at Rozen and Baram. “I remember.” There was something in her voice, and then it was gone when she looked at Bowen. “You look… you look good.” She somehow made that a question.

Conrad looked back at Bowen, sharply now. “You do. Happy, and you’ve got your color back.”

Bowen shrugged. “Lots of time outside. Nice to see the sun.” He didn’t realize he was smiling until he felt the way “sun” tasted on his lips.

Kailani smiled, too. “It is. It’s hard to go back inside at the end of the day.” She tilted her face upwards for a moment, eyes closed.

When the moment had stretched from reasonable to a little-too-long, Conrad coughed. Kai looked back at Bowen. “What brings you to Addergoole in the middle of the summer, then?”

“Uh.” He glanced back at his cy’ree. “Rozen brought me.”

“Oh. Oh?”

“I brought him to say thank you. Then we’re going to take a road trip.” Rozen was speaking a little more slowly, Bowen noticed, and enunciating carefully. Kai wasn’t stupid – she was supposed to be the smartest person in their Cohort.

“Oh.” Right now, she looked like she needed smaller words. “Well, have fun.”

Phelen laughed. “Yeah.” Yeah? “Yes, Kailani, it was that big of a deal. You faced down Agatha to get Bowen out of a bad situation.”

“He repaid the favor.”

“He repaid the favor, but not the bravery.” Phelen bowed. “Now he’s repaying it all.”

“That.” Bowen nodded. “You did a bigger thing than I did.”

Kailani made an expression that was probably a smile. “Somebody had to.”

“And you did it.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/564874.html. You can comment here or there.

A Welcome of Sorts

After Carrying, which is after Any Port

No tour of Baram’s house was complete without seeing three things: the bolt-hole in the basement, the hawthorn trees around three sides of the property, and a pile of children climbing up the furniture to greet you.

Pocket-Claws-Neska took in the bolt-hole with wide eyes and a small smile, especially when she saw the preparations the children had helped with. Baram wasn’t sure child-sized riot shields were really adorable, but the kids liked them, and so did this small person.

She took in the hawthorn trees about the same way. “So, this Briar-Rose, she really is like you and the Spear.”

Not, Baram noted, anything about him. She looked in fear at Via, not at him.

“Briar-Rose is like us. Maybe a little harder, maybe a little softer, but like us.” Viatrix shrugged. “If you last long enough, you’ll meet her. She’s off right now.”

“Last long enough.” The girl shook her head. “You sound like you think I’m afraid of a little hard work.”

“Well, many people are. And it’s crowded conditions and hard work and a lot of people think that’s just too much.”

“You’ll keep my kids safe. I don’t see how anything could be too much in that case.”

“Like her.” Baram rumbled it. “Like her, Viatrix.”

“I like her too, Boss. Okay, Pocket-Claws, you’ve got the first vote of approval. The second one’s the hard one.”

“Second one?” She was still looking at the trees, and at the back yard. “An addition shouldn’t be too hard…”

“You’re good with those words, then?” Via actually cracked a smile at that. “Good. None of us are, and the last things-Worker didn’t stay long enough to do much at all.”

“As long as someone else can excavate the foundation…”

“I can.” Baram nodded. “Easy.” It was like caves, and Baram liked caves.

“Ah, here comes the welcoming party.” Via’s voice had the pre-combat sound to it. Baram noticed how Pocket-Claws-Neska pulled her hands out of her pockets – ha – and shifted her stance, legs spreading a bit, center of gravity dropping.

And then the kids were everywhere. “Are you new? Are you staying? Are you magical? You’ve got to be okay, Dad’s smiling. Are you from the school? How come we’ve never seen you before? Where are your kids?” The questions bounced around from all of the kids, but they seemed as if asked with one voice while the children climbed up Baram, Via, and Pocket-Claws-Neska.

She’d handled the bolt-hole and the hawthorn. But, buried in children, the short woman froze.

Baram watched her carefully. Via, moving as if she wasn’t weighed down with offspring, shifted behind the visitor. This had gone badly before – not usually after they’d handled the defenses, but sometime.

The woman took a breath. She carefully lifted a child off of her hip and placed it on the ground, and then another. Baram watched the way she moved her hands, compensating for a sudden twitchiness.

“Hello.” Her voice was very quiet. The children stilled to listen.

“Hello.” Gerulf was their designated spokesperson when things were being serious. He was one of the oldest, after all, and he had the best voice.

“I may be moving in here.”

“People do that.” He patted a smaller child before she could speak up, and shifted another child off of Pocket-Claws-Neska’s leg. “You don’t like kids?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“We’re not stupid… ma’am. You don’t like kids touching you.”

The small woman shook her head. She sat down – already the height of some of the bigger kids, this brought her down to all the kids’ level.

Gerulf paused a moment, and then sat. Baram hid a smile with a cough. The boy was smart.

“It’s not kids touching me I don’t like. I have two kids of my own, of course…”

“Everybody does. At least two.” Gerulf shrugged. “Not here yet? ‘Sides, having kids doesn’t mean you like kids. Lots of people don’t like kids. Like Sergio’s mom.”

“Hey.” Sergio’s complaint was faint. Baram patted the kid on the head – Gerulf was right. There was a reason the kid was still here and the mum wasn’t.

“I like kids. I get along okay with most kids, at least.” Pocket-Claws-Neska looked around the group. “I just don’t really like being touched at all, by kids or by taller people… heck, some of you are taller than me.”

Gerulf looked around at the other kids. After a minute, he nodded. “The little ones won’t get it.” It sounded like a warning. “But the older kids understand.”

Baram wasn’t watching the kids. Neither was Via; Baram was splitting his attention between Via and Pocket-Claws-Neska. Viatrix’s eyes were firmly on their newest visitor.

And that visitor’s eyes were on the children. Her throat worked a few times. Swallowing? Gulping. “You… just like that?”

“We’re not stupid.” The boy’s voice had a little impatience in it this time. “Sometimes people don’t like being touched. Or shouted at sometimes, or they don’t like strawberries. It’s not rocket science.”

The girl made a sound like a stifled sob. “Not rockest science.”

“It’s not.” Now Gerulf didn’t sound so sure. “Right, dad?”

Baram turned his attention to the boy. Not his son by blood, but his son nonetheless. “Right.” He nodded. “Hard for lots of people to get, but not rockets.”

“See? Oh. Is this one of those things where grownups are dumb all the time?”

Baram barked out a laugh. It was quiet enough that he could hear the little noise the new girl made as well. He thought it was probably a laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, this is one of those things.” She held out a hand, now, to Gerulf. “My name is Neska. Your… Viatrix says that I can stay here for a while, with my kids.”

“Aunt Via.” Gerulf shook her hand. “I’m Gerulf sh’Jaelie. Welcome to not-a-safe-house.”

And now, they all laughed: Neska, Baram, Via, and the children.

“That’s quite a name.”

“It’s better than ‘dad’s cave.'” Gerulf sounded pleased with himself.

“It’s a good name.” Baram tousled the boy’s hair. “It’s a good thing.” And they still weren’t, really, a safe house.

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/563294.html. You can comment here or there.

Carrying

After Any Port

Baram looked between the short girl and his… his Viatrix. “You want her in here?”

“I don’t know if she wants to be in here. But she’s better in than out.” Via frowned for a moment. “Neska, right? I wasn’t there when you were Named.”

“Pocket Claws.” The girl shrugged; Baram didn’t blame her. “I, ah, someone pointed me in this direction.”

“Come in, if you mean me, mine, no harm.” Baram was managing to make that sound more and more coherent. He was getting far too much practice. “Not a safe house. But…” He let Via handle the rest.

“But if you don’t mind sleeping stacked or can help us build an addition, if you can work and will work, and if you’ll do what the Boss tells you with no orders, promises, or bond – then you can stay as long as you’re useful.” Via shrugged. She always shrugged at that part. Almost nobody stayed longer than a week. “It helps if you’re good with kids – where’re yours?”

Everyone who left Addergoole had kids. Some of them just didn’t have them. Baram’s house appeared to have more kids than anyplace else. He was drowning in children.

“Safe.” She stepped inside, keeping Baram between her and Viatrix. “With my mother.”

“Smart. You have a safe place already, then…?” Via stepped out of the way. “Let me give you the short tour.”

“I have a place I can keep them safe for a day or two. People… someone said that this place could be safe long-term.”

“Not a foxhole.” Baram fell in behind the girl. “Yes.”

The girl glanced back at him. Neska. Pocket-Claws-Neska. He would probably forget, but the more he worked at remembering the more bits he could hold on to.

“You don’t like people much, do you?” She had that quaver in her voice. Baram didn’t understand the quaver. He didn’t think it was fear, and it didn’t really sound like disgust, probably. He glanced over her shoulder at Viatrix.

Via snorted, and shrugged. “Baram doesn’t do people well. That’s part of why he has us.”

“Us?”

“Me. Jaelie, she left before your time, I think. Sa’Briar Rose. And Alkyone.”

“Alkyone? The Spear?” Her skin was pale all over again. “This place is run by the Life and the Spear…?”

“And the Briar. But no. This place is run by the boss.” She patted Baram’s shoulder in the way he only ever let her do. “It’s just managed by the three of us.”

“I thought you said this was a safe house.”

Now, Baram laughed. He could remember the skinny spider-girl – Callista-Bladed-Dervish – could remember her saying that.

“No. Not a safe house. Just a house that is safe.”

“..is it?” She looked around her; she was in a narrow hall between Via and Baram. No real exit. “For who?”

“For people who help out and carry their weight.” Via was big on that. Baram agreed.

“For people.” He put his hand on her head, splaying the fingers so that he encompassed the top of her head. “What I do. What I do is protect.”

She swallowed hard and stepped forward, so that his hand slipped to the back of her head. To her neck. “You’ll protect my children?”

“Yes. You carry your weight, I will protect your children.” Baram shrugged, and tried again. “Will protect children no matter what. Will protect you if you carry your weight.” His hand encircled most of her neck. She didn’t move. He glanced at Viatrix; she nodded.

Pocket-Claws-Neska made a quiet noise, like a hum. “Then I’ll pull my weight.” It sounded like an oath. She glanced up at Viatrix, and then back at Baram. “I’ll do what I have to.”

“Good.” Viatrix sounded just as serious, like she was collaring someone. “So will we.”

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/560738.html. You can comment here or there.

Crew

In continuation of the second story here from over a year ago.

Ib woke not in pain. He woke not aching everywhere, not unable to move. He woke.

He woke, which meant he wasn’t dead. That in itself was a bit of a shocker. The last time he’d had a beat-down like this – close to this, there hadn’t been as much bone-snapping that time – he’d ended up in the hospital for weeks and in agony for months.

Today, he had a little pain in his lungs and his throat was a bit raw. That… that was not how this worked.

He looked up at the big guy in the doorway. Baram looked sort of like unfinished clay, like someone had lumped him together and then forgotten to glaze or bake him. He also looked like anyone going through the door would have to go straight through him. The doctor would have had to go through him to get to Ib; maybe she’d gone through the wall. That seemed like the safer option.

Ib had more important questions at the moment. He squeaked, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Why?”

Baram’s brow furrowed. “Mine. Not theirs.”

Oh. Ib swallowed. Well, if that was the price he had to pay… “Y-“

“What he means-” Rozen somehow shouldered the bigger guy aside. Ib had never been so grateful for an interruption. “-is that he considers you crew, and doesn’t like other people fucking with his friends.”

“Oh.” Friends. These were the sort of friends that you wanted, in a place where people randomly tried to break all your bones.

“I mean, if you want to Belong to him, I’m sure he won’t object. It might be a little awkward, and I don’t think he’s all that into guys.”

“No, no, that’s all right.” Ib cleared his throat, and found he could speak without squeaking if he spoke very slowly. “Thanks.”

“Crew.” Baram thumped his chest with his fist.

“Crew.” Rozen, unsurprisingly, was smirking.

“Crew.” Ib found himself smiling, too. Crew.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/560519.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Durjaya: Her First Year

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

We haven’t seen Durjaya before, but her mother, Akaterina, is in Addergoole: Year 9.


Addergoole, Year 31

“Have a good time at school. I’ll be right here in four years to pick you up.” Durjaya’s mother kissed her forehead and gave her a little shove. “Take care of yourself, honey. And remember – it only looks safer.”

The bunker that was the Addergoole school certainly looked safer than the outside world, even than the pretty refuge Durjaya’s mother had created. It was out in the middle of nowhere – a two-day drive each way, a major investment in time and gas and a major risk on the untended roads – and Dar wasn’t entirely certain why her mother had bothered. Not for the safety; that was the seventeenth time in two days she’d warned Dar it wouldn’t really be safe.

“I’ll be careful, Mom.” She kissed her mom’s cheek. “You be careful, too.”

The school looked like something out of a novel. It had thick carpeting, the sort that the upper levels of Mom’s hotel had, wooden paneling, and kids wandering around in clothes that looked new. Plucking at her skirt, Dar understood why her mother had pulled out all the stops in getting her dressed for her first day underground. They all looked like the world hadn’t ended. They all looked clean.

The first week was a series of things like that: not quite shocks but not quite comfortable things. They would mention the world-ending war in classes, then go home through their electrically-lit halls to their hot-water-heated showers and their fresh food. Dar’s mom’s hotel had had all those things, sure, but most of the people around them hadn’t, and it had been a constant effort to keep everything working. Here, here everything seemed simple, effortless, and taken for granted, like the very few years Dar remembered before the war.

The Store provided new-seeming clothes with labels that looked genuine, food that might have been fresh in season somewhere but certainly not in the northern mid-west of the former US, shoes that looked mass-produced. What was more, the food, the clothes, none of it was rationed – they could buy as much of it as they wanted. The teachers were providing an education that seemed more thorough than anything Dar had ever seen. And there was no work. There was homework, and she could make her own meals if she wanted to, but that was it.

Finding out all her classmates were fae-demons was almost a letdown after all of that. Finding out they had dances was almost weirder. Dances every few weeks. The village around her mother’s hotel had held two parties a year, done-snowing and going-to-snow-soon. The dance was loud, and there was alcohol. Dar drank too much and slipped out before her brother – or anyone else – could bother her.

By the end of the second week, she’d almost adjusted to the strangeness, to the bounty of food, to the idle time. She’d almost gotten used to hot showers every day, to the heavy homework load, to the quiet, when the second Saturday found the halls a riot of noise and strange sparkling lights.

She bounced off a lizard-man, ducked into what she thought was a shortcut upstairs, and found herself being pressed up against the walls but some sort of nightmare monster.

“Say you belong to me and everything will be all right.” He made it sound reasonable. He made it sound tempting. He made the alternative sound terrifying.

It was too much like home. “No,” she snapped. “You say you belong to me.”

“I belong to you.” He dropped her on the floor. “What the hell?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/559004.html. You can comment here or there.

That Guy Thursday: Kheper

Kheper

Rich, entitled… beetle.

Kheper is a handsome, strong-willed and strong-chinned young man who comes from privilege; he is well-dressed and well-spoken, with expensive tastes and very strong views on almost everything.

He’s a short, slight young man as he enters Addergoole, at about 5’7″ tall. In his first year he gains three inches; in the subsequent three years in the school he gains another inch a year. He has black hair that he keeps shaggy and shoulder-length because it offends his mother (his first-year Keeper, Cynara, is amusingly not at all offended by it), chocolate brown eyes, and slightly-too-shaggy eyebrows. His skin is dark tan, and his features show his Egyptian/Arabic heritage.

Being Kept subdues his temper and views not at all, although a year in the battlefield of Addergoole does begin to mellow him very very slightly.

There is a longer description of Kheper here

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/558351.html. You can comment here or there.

Favorite Addergoole Characters, past, present, future? – LAST CALL

I posted this last week, asking who your favorite Addergoole characters are.

I plan on beginning the project with these tonight, so this is your last chance to plug for your guy/gal/hermaphrodite.

Current list is:
Noam,
Sylvia,
Garfunkle,
Luke,
Pelletier.
Emrys & Shahin
Kailani & Conrad
Cynara
Baram
Rozen
Brenna
Noam (that’s two for Noam now)
Speed
Shahin (two for them)
Emrys,
Ty,
Jamian,
Kailani and Conrad (two for them)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/550253.html. You can comment here or there.

Bracken, her first year, continued

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

This is a continuation of this piece by request.

Bracken had a position. She’d always had plans, she just hadn’t had the opportunity to do anything with any of them. She’d kept herself sane with her plans.

This one might not listen any more than anyone else. But, on the other hand, this one was different. Not a guy. Not a girl. Not pushing their agenda – or anything else – down Bracken’s throat. At least, not yet.

If she started talking fast enough, maybe they wouldn’t.

“So I talked to Professor Akatil about Unutu.” She loved the way the word sounded, rolling off her tongue. “But I don’t have any control about machines the way most of his Students do. I’m good at Jasfe. I’m really, really good at Jasfe so far.” That word sounded like it could fix everything in her life, instead of just fixing machines. “And I was learning how to be a mechanic before I… came here.” She shook her head. “I know, I know. You’re not a mechanic. But you’re The Procurer. Professor Akatil said that. And you could teach me how to procure things. And I bet I could turn broken things into new things again. You know, junkyard procurement?” She shrugged. “I did that, too. Turning a car into a car again?”

She’d run out of things to say, so she took a breath and watched D.J. The slim fae tilted their head and studied Bracken for a moment. “You’ve thought this through quite a bit.”

“Yeah. Well. Plenty of time to think, you know?”

“I’m sure. And you want to learn how to be a – what would we call it? – a converter of junk into like-new things?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged again. She wasn’t sure if this sounded good or bad for her.

“And what are you not telling me, dear?”

Bracken chewed on the inside of her mouth for a moment. “…and you’re not a guy.”

“Nor am I a woman.”

“I know.” She shrugged, and hoped that D.J. would let it drop.

“Well, I think you would be a very good Student for me. And I’ll try to be a good Mentor for you.”

Bracken let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Thanks.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/544077.html. You can comment here or there.

That Guy Thursday: Lucian

Ah, yes, the bad guy. Every story needs a few, right?

Lucian didn’t start off as a bad guy, but that’s another story. Today, we’re looking at Lucian in Year Nine.

He’s a tall guy – six-four or so – and lanky, with hair that’s sandy-blonde, headed more towards true blonde in summer and early fall and darkening to almost brunette in the winter. He’s got a permanent sneer, an angry frustration with life, and handsome blue eyes that match the feathers on his wings.

Although they get called Team Rocket, he has very little physically in common with Thessaly except an innate athleticism and the hard bodies to match it.

And a streak of entitlement that puts themselves before anyone else in the world, but, then again, they are the bad guys.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/543524.html. You can comment here or there.

Way Back Wednesday: Maureen, the Lady Foxglove

Late 1980

The woman known only as Foxglove slipped out of the Senator’s office unseen. He paid well for that discretion, although exactly how well he was going to pay, he did not know yet.

She wrote a brief letter in a language only a handful of the world’s population would recognize, encoded in a code only seven people knew, and posted it to a drop-box. It wasn’t, exactly, espionage, but old habits died hard.

The senator wasn’t her only visit today. He wasn’t even the most important, although he certainly thought he was. Schools needed accreditation. They needed recognition. They also needed funding, in order to run properly.

Fortunately for them, the accreditation board and those who made recognition of the proper sort happen were all – if not necessarily human – fallible and with exploitable flaws.

Foxglove bore no illusions about the nature of the organization she had joined, or about their opinion of her. She knew they would use all of her skills to the fullest and still hesitate to invite her to dinner.

Luckily for them, she not only agreed with their goals, she heartily enjoyed using her skills.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/542978.html. You can comment here or there.