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Bracken, her first year

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

Fafnir shows up in Addergoole: Year 9 in Æowyn’s chapter. We have seen Bracken once before, many years later in her life – Amends.

Addergoole, Year 11, early October
“I need to meet D.J.” Bracken braced herself, head down, looking at Fafnir’s chest instead of his face. When she had to, she could do non-confrontational. She had enough practice at it.

“D.J.? Why?” Fafnir, on the other hand, had never had to be non-confrontational in his life, and it showed. “I’ll have to take you out to the Village; I don’t think it’s keeping regular office hours right now.”

Bracken wondered at the it but didn’t ask. “Professor Akatil thought D.J. would be a good Mentor for me.” Every other Mentor-possibility had gone badly so far; even Professor Valerian didn’t really want to deal with her. Everyone had suggested Doug or Akatil. She couldn’t stand to get near the former, and the latter… he’d taken one look at her, asked her five pointed questions, and said “D.J. The Procurer will be able to help you.”

The Procurer seemed like a good bet. Now, all she needed was to be able to get out the door and meet this mysterious person.

“All right.” Fafnir came to whatever decision he was coming to. “Get your shoes on and grab a coat. It can get cold outside.”

Coat? Outside? She followed her orders without question, took Fafnir’s hand when it was offered, and followed him silently outside. He was in a hurry, dragging her along, so she had little time to marvel at the orchard, or the meadow, or the tiny imitation town that was, apparently, the Village. He pulled her down the pretty garden path to the fairy-tale cottage and pounded on the door.

A skinny woman? man? person opened the door. Behind them, a toddler appeared to be holding on to its tail. Fairies, Bracken reminded herself. Fairies. Magical Fairies. “Fafnir?”

“D.J. This is Bracken, she’s my Kept. She needs a Mentor. Can you bring her back when you’re done?”

“Tchah. Yes, of course. Come on in, Bracken, pleased to meet you. Go on, Fafnir, be somewhere else. He’s not all that comfortable with the Daeva-blooded.” D.J. said the last in an aside to Bracken, but before the door was closed. “I think he likes people in nice binary boxes, and, between you and I, I’m really not like that.”

“I can hear you.”

“Two, three hours. Four at the most. Go on, now, the child needs a Mentor and you’ve brought her to me.” With that, D.J. shut the door in Fafnir’s face. When he… she… maybe that’s why they said it… when D.J. turned to look at Bracken, it was with a completely different expression, far more piercing. “Well, then. You need a Mentor and you’ve come to me. Let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?”

This might work out after all. Bracken cleared her throat and began to explain her position.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/540960.html. You can comment here or there.

Rohanna, her first year

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

I haven’t written about Rohanna before, but Dyfri shows up here, as well as here/.


Late December, Year 10 of the Addergoole School.

“Seriously?” Rohanna flopped back down in her chair, making as much noise as she could with the sitting.

“Seriously. Ro, I want to talk about the way you’ve been acting.” Dyfri looked at her with big, green eyes, somehow managing to make it seem like he was looking up at her, despite the fact that he was standing and she was sitting.

“What about it?” She kicked her feet out, taking up as much space as possible. He might have said sit, but he hadn’t said sit nicely. Yet. Dyfri was weird with orders, really. He’d dance around giving her any orders at all, and then suddenly pop out with a whole bunch of ridiculous orders out of nowhere. “I’ve been acting like me.”

“Really?” He pulled up the second chair and sat down, backwards, like he was trying to be casual. Like he was trying to be her friend. “It looks to me like you’re trying to cause as much trouble for me as you possibly can.”

Rohanna felt a surge of guilt. Bad girl. Troublesome Kept. She pushed it down ruthlessly. “Maybe you should let me go, then. Since, you know, I’m so much trouble.”

“We both know I’m not going to do that. If I let you go, someone else will just grab you. And you’ve been doing pretty well at making yourself all the enemies, Ro. You don’t want one of them to grab you, believe me.”

She didn’t need the order. She knew that. “I know what I’m getting into now. They won’t be able to sneak up on me and grab me like you did. Trick me into it.”

“They won’t need to. The guys – and girls – you’ve pissed off, they’ll just go straight for the Control Mind and you’ll find yourself saying the words anyway.”

“Like being Kept.”

“And then you will be Kept. By someone not as nice as me. So, tell me, what do I need to do to get you to stop acting out so much?”

The order – whether he’d meant it or not – forced the truth out of her, when she hadn’t decided yet what she was going to tell him. “Order me not to.”

“Seriously?” It was his turn to look incredulous.

She yanked on the necklace he’d given her – seashells! – in lieu of a collar. “I’m yours. You won’t let me go. I Belong to you. Act like it.”

“Ro…” He looked like a sad kicked-puppy, and Ro felt even worse. “I don’t want to be that guy.”

“You’re responsible for me.” She fought through the rising guilt to be as firm as she could. “Be responsible.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/540611.html. You can comment here or there.

Orlaith, Her First Year

Second in a series of character-building vignettes following a bunch of characters through their time at Addergoole & beyond. Orlaith we’ve seen much later in her life, in the series with her son Hunter-Hale and her later Kept Adder.

(Ora tag here)
(Adder tag here)
(Hunter-Hale tag here)

The Dreamwidth icon is Orlaith’s daughter Ce’Rilla.

Content warning: Hell Night


Hell Night, Year 10 of the Addergoole School

“Come on, come on, be mine and all the pain will stop.” Someone – she couldn’t see who – had Orlaith bent backwards until she felt like her spine would snap, another hand on her ankles like he was trying to turn her into a wheel. Orlaith made a little noise of pain, and then did the thing she did best.

“Come on,” she echoed back at him, but her tone was coaxing, harmless. “You don’t really want me, do you? You want a prettier girl. Someone stronger, someone more obedient? I’m not really your type of girl, am I?”

She didn’t know what was going on, but she was pretty sure if it involved having your spine nearly snapped to get there, she didn’t want any of it.

“Yeah, I probably don’t want you. Hurry up, get out of here.”

And like that, he let her go. Orlaith wasted no time at all in getting out of there. Sometimes, they listened when she did that. A lot of the time, after she stopped talking, they changed her mind.

“That was impressive.” The voice came out of nowhere – smooth, slick. Ora felt an urge to trust the speaker; she turned around to look at him and the urge was overwhelming. Skinny, short for a guy but still taller than her, with dyed-red hair – but all of that was almost a memory, someone she’d seen in the halls. All she could see, now, looking at him, were his eyes, amber as a cat’s and every bit as creepy.

“Thank you?”

“Of course. And now, pretty little liar… now you’re going to be mine. Tempero Intinn Orlaith cy’Valerian. Say that you’re mine.

“I’m yours.” She couldn’t have said no if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t find herself really wanting to, either.

“Good. Now, Orlaith oro’Accalon, you and I are going to have a talk about judicious use of powers.”

His stern tone sent a strange tingling down to her toes. “What? Powers?” She looked as innocent as she could. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, really. Was I?

He tapped her nose with two fingers. “First, do not use your power on me. Secondly, if you do not learn to corral it on your own, I will corral it for you. And, so you know I’m serious… sit down.”

Orlaith found herself sitting on the carpeted hall, feeling miserably like she’d let down this complete stranger. “What…?” Judicious use of your powers.

“I think this is going to be an educational year for you, Orlaith.”

She was suddenly worried that it would be.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/539729.html. You can comment here or there.

Any Port

To [personal profile] clare_dragonfly‘s prompt.

After Signal Fire, which is after Safe House (LJ), which is right after
Company LJ)
)

They were not running a safe house.

Baram was firm on that. They were running, if anything, a refuge for children, a place for those that had no parents anymore or couldn’t find them.

They were not running a safe house for every wandering fae. He protected his vassals, but that was what he did. Those people, his people. Not everyone who came by.

And many came by. The skinny one and the small one hadn’t stayed. For them, Baram had offered, but their memories of the monster he had been – had been known as – were too strong, and they could not bear to stay.

The others came in many flavors. They all saw the tall walls, the thorny plants, the happy children playing. Some wanted to own; some just wanted to shelter. Some wanted both; some just wanted the warmth of companionship.

“We are not running a safe house.” Baram looked at the latest of them. She was short, her skin tan and her hair black, and she was looking up at him with no fear at all. No fear of him; when she glanced over her shoulder, she was clearly worried.

“Boss.” Viatrix stepped up to one side of him. “Boss, there’s something on the horizon.” She looked at the girl on the step. “You’re a Thirteenth, aren’t you?”

“And you’re The Life.” The girl bowed; now she looked scared of what was in front of her. That was a new one. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Via grinned. Baram liked that grin; it was her hunting smile. “Maybe you’d better let her in, boss?”

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/538505.html. You can comment here or there.

That Gal Thursday: Æowyn

Some people are just born to be social; Æowyn is one of those.

She’s a people-person, a social butterfly, a maven and a sometimes gossip; in a normal school, she’d be the head of her own clique. In later years at Addergoole, she probably will be the head of a crew.

This year, she’s Kept, and not very well-Kept at that. Her relationship with Fafnir (such as it is) restrains just how social she can be; all of her friends also being under a collar restrains it even more.

Æowyn is a slender blonde girl with bright blue eyes who stands barely 4’9″ tall. Her Change gives her scales down her chest and back, and poisonous fangs. It also gives her a temper to match the poison.

Only on one point has Fafnir given up: Æowyn doesn’t dress the way he’d like her to. She wears men’s button-down shirts and vests, newsboy caps and men’s slacks; only at the dances does she give in enough to wear skirts.

When un-Kept, she’ll probably wear tuxes to the dances.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/536116.html. You can comment here or there.

Magic Items in Faerie Apocalypse, a Setting Piece for the Giraffe Call

Magic Items in the Faerie Apocalypse World

In the Addergoole series, two magical collars have shown up to date: Conrad’s, originally worn by Carter, and Garfunkel’s, originally worn by Sylvia. They were created in two different ways, which nicely indicate the different sorts of magical items in Fae Apoc: Carter/Conrad’s by Working, and Gar/Sylvia’s by an innate.

The Thorne Girls created Carter’s collar to respond to a certain emotional state (Hugr) and vocal volume (Kwxe) with an electrical shock (Hiko); they did this in a complex multi-part Working using Words that they had, in conjunction with Unutu (Worked things) which each of them also had as a Word. I.e., a Thorne with Hugr would lay down a working, and then one with Kwxe, and so on.

This sort of complex team Working takes time, energy, and the ability to work as a team, something the three Thornes had in spades. If a single person were to do a Working like this, they would need to possess all the Words to create a long-term if-then sort of thing (If the target’s Hugr reads snotty, then zap Hiko If it reads actively antagonistic,, then ZAP Hiko). It would obviously take more energy, as well.

Sylvia’s collar, on the other hand, was created by someone whose innate power is, essentially, to enchant objects. She could only inlay into those objects Workings she can herself do, but the person who made the collar has Intinn, Mind, as one of her best words. Creating an artificial intelligence of sorts took a great deal of time, even for her, but far less than doing so via Workings would have done (and she can do it without speaking, an added bonus).

As for longevity: both sorts of collars are very durable; impregnating Workings into sturdy Worked goods is effective and long-lasting. The sort done with Words, however, can be dismantled more easily than the sort done with an Innate. It would take use of the Word Frodelikr to take apart Gar’s collar’s enchantment, whereas Carter’s can be taken apart by simply reversing the Workings done to it.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/536006.html. You can comment here or there.

Waking Early

This is @Inventrix’s commissioned continuation words from the March Giraffe Call.

Addergoole East is the school run by Dean Kailani Storm; it opens in some form before the 2011 apocalypse and is a full-fledged school for fae and humans within a decade of that.

This story takes place at least a generation after that. So: 2011+10+20 (Yr 17+10+20) = 2041, Year 47 of the Addergoole School, Year 20 of Addergoole East.

Kiba woke with the sunrise, un-surprised to find her roommate already up and gone. Serenity was a work-study student; her parents hadn’t had the money to pay tuition (so very few people did anymore), so she did odd jobs around the place to cover the cost of her education.

So did Kiba, of course, although she was a legacy student. “It’ll keep you honest.” Her mother was a big proponent of keeping Kiba honest. As if, without constant supervision, Kiba was going to turn into a lying, cheating, philandering wanderer of some sort.

Of course, to hear her mother tell it, that’s what her father had been, so maybe there was some merit to the concern.

She dressed quickly – there was frost on the trees outside, and, although the school was well-insulated, it wasn’t all that warm, not when the fire had died down – and hurried downstairs for breakfast.

The dining hall was nearly empty, this early in the morning – most students would either come down in an hour, when the main breakfast was served, or had already eaten earlier, like Serenity. But Kiba liked it now, quiet, with the warmth of porridge to fill her up and the slow happy caffeine of a mug of tea for a bit of extra perk.

Her first class wasn’t until eight, but her Mentor was waiting for her out in the orchard. “You’re early.” It was clear Kavan Pensus approved. “Let’s go through the first seven Kata while we wait to see if the sleepyheads show up.”

“Yes, Professor.” Kiba bowed low, smiled, and began the exercises. There had been nothing like this back home, even with her parents having come out of Addergoole First. Of course, home had been a lot of trying to stay alive and trying to hold on to a culture that had been gone before Kiba had been born.

Professor Pensus had his own set of kata; the Seven were a set of stretches that slid seamlessly into calisthenics and from there into attack poses.

As she stepped into the calisthenics, Pensus, down on the floor in a split, began quizzing her. “How have you been sleeping?”

“My rest,” she caught her breath, and remembered to speak evenly, “has been pleasant. Serenity isn’t – is not having nightmares any more. She is sleeping more evenly, as well.”

“And Kaspar?”

“Professor.” She finished her last jumping jack and paused long enough to practice her disappointed-gaze at her Mentor. “Such things are private.”

“And I am your Mentor.”

“Yes, but you are not my lover nor my Keeper.” She fell into the next set of poses before she could be corrected.

“These things are true. And yet can I not be concerned about your life?”

“You can, of course, be concerned and curious. But it still remains my right to have a private life, so long as I do not give that right to another.”

“And you do not plan to give that right to Kaspar?”

“Am I late?” Jethro hurried into the courtyard and dropped into the first Kata.

“You are on time. What have I told you about being on time?” The professor was clearly enjoying this. Kiba hid her smile in another pose.

“Yes, Professor, I mean, no, Professor, I mean…” Jethro, who was never good at the mornings anyway, was saved by the rest of their cy’ree appearing.

“How do you get there so early?” Jethro and Clove shared most of Kiba’s classes, so they walked together from their morning training session most days. “I mean, there’s never a morning when you’re not there.”

“Come on, Jethro.” Clove clucked in amusement. “What does the professor tell you? Use the information you’re given.”

“The information I have is that Kiba shows up early every morning for training with Professor Pensus. I assume that she’s not a ridiculous kiss-up, because I’ve never seen her kissing up to other teachers. See, more observed information. And she doesn’t have morning chores.”

“But her roommate does.”

Kiba looked between the two of them, amused. “Excellent deduction, Clove. Actually, I’m just used to getting up early, and never got into the habit of sleeping in that some people get into when they come to school.”

“Farm family?” Jethro hazarded it a little more cautiously. Kiba wondered if he was afraid of offending her.

“Farm family.” Kiba nodded. They didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty stuff, at least not yet. “And, besides, I really like the morning session.”

“So maybe you are a kiss-up.” Jethro’s arm came around Kiba’s shoulder in a way that was somewhere between friendly and familiar. “Let’s see how you feel after the afternoon session.”

Kiba didn’t move his arm. She found she liked its warmth. “We’ll see.” Glancing over at his expression, and catching Clove’s in the process, she thought maybe there were quite a few things they’d be seeing.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/526938.html. You can comment here or there.

V for Vindicated

For @KissofJudas’ prompt. Fae Apoc, Addergoole Grad.
Via is a character in the Baram’s Elves sub-series; this takes place after she graduates and before she ends up at Baram’s.

Via left the body where it fell, cleaned the weapons with three cloths and a quick Working, and left those sitting on the body’s chest.

The man wasn’t dead, yet. He wouldn’t be dead, if someone got him to a hospital. And he was Faded, with enough strength to be held to an oath, so the chances were, in time, long enough time, he might heal. He might, however, wish he was dead.

“You’ve gotten a vindictive streak lately.”

She should have been surprised to see the man standing at the mouth of the alley, but she found that she wasn’t. “Could we take this conversation somewhere else?”

“Probably best.” If she hadn’t known better, Via would have thought the man sounded amused. “There’s a cafe down the road with the sort of sense of time that’s useful in cases like this. I know the owner.”

“That works.” He probably knew where she lived, but that didn’t mean she wanted to bring him there. “You took longer than I expected.”

“Your graduating class is more active than most.” He tilted his head down the road and, not wanting a fight, not here, Via followed.

The cafe was exactly the sort of place she’d expect him to pick, with deep booths and ambient noise that covered casual conversations. They sat across the table from each other, drinking beer and eating fries, both waiting for the other to speak.

“How many?” He broke first, or perhaps accepted the role of inquisitor.

“Seventeen.”

“You have a reason?”

“Rapists. Monsters. Torturers and creeps.”

The man across the table looked, she thought, as if he was contemplating her list. “We didn’t educate you to be a vigilante.”

Viatrix raised her eyebrows. “You could have fooled me.”

At that, the man across the table laughed. “You’re doing a good job of it, Via. And not even a whisper of chance you’ll get caught. Well done.”

Vindicated. Viatrix smiled. “Thank you, Luke.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/523210.html. You can comment here or there.

Way-Back Wednesday, a story of Regine

March 7, 1810

Regine studied her son – her only son, her only child. She studied his Change, the echo of her father, all those years ago, muttering in the back of her mind.

She took three measured breaths, and then a fourth. “You are my son.”
She affirmed this truth, in case anyone had any doubt. “We will find an appropriate Mentor for you, who can teach you what I have not.”

“If there is anything you have not taught me.”

“I am certain I have missed, perhaps, one or two things.” Regine did not touch easily, but she made herself touch the fluted, fin-like ears that his Change had brought. “You are my son.” She did not know if she was reassuring him, or herself.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/519940.html. You can comment here or there.