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Cost of Living

For [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt for more of the Baram-and-his-house-elves story.

Baram and his family appear in:
Monster (LJ)
Memories (LJ)
One Sharp Mother (LJ)
The Life you Make (LJ)
Safe (LJ)

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ

Baram called it their kid farm, though he didn’t really seem to mind the small people running around.

He wouldn’t tolerate other adults – well, he wouldn’t tolerate un-Kept or human male adults, and Jaelie, Viatrix, and Alkyone weren’t all that thrilled about other female adults. They’d let in one newly-widowed neighbor with her three small ones, mostly to have someone else to help with the small herd of children they now had all over the place.

Aloysius – who was “Wish” because he couldn’t very well be Aly and nobody wanted to call him the Pear (Baram called him “Swish”) – turned out to be no good at all with the kids, but very good in the kitchen, which made all of them rather relieved. But still… Jaelie had to do something with him. He was not, in and of himself, useful enough to justify the expense of feeding him – at least not to Baram.

“The world’s falling apart,” her employer pointed out over breakfast. “And we’ve just doubled the kid population here. Do something with him, Jaelie, or find someone who wants to and will pay us for him.”

No-one missed the pallor that came over her new Kept at that. “Give me a week,” she asked, and was granted, and then she cornered Wish in her room that night.

“You’re going to sell me,” he said flatly. “Your … employer doesn’t like me.”

“My employer is not known for liking people in general,” she answered dryly. “And I’m not known for selling people.”

“He seems to like the three of you.”

“Not many women willingly spend time in his presence.”

“But you do.” He sounded jealous. She wasn’t surprised.

“He’s a big, strong man who is entirely protective of those he defines as his, Kept or employees.” She patted Wish’s leg. “And the three of us are pragmatic women with children to protect.”

“I could protect you.”

“You tried to kill us. I wouldn’t call that very protective.”

“Well, to be fair, you were the enemy. You’re not, anymore.” He seemed rather despondent, despite his cheeky tone. “You’re not a bad sort of Keeper. Not as bad as what I expected.”

“I’m not going to sell you.” She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged his head until he was looking up at her. “Believe that. You are mine, Aloysius oro’Briar Rose, until I release you. Understand?”

He gulped, and nodded, staring at her in a bit of surprise. “Yes, Mistress,” he murmured docilely. “Thank you.”

“I’m not sure you want to thank me yet,” she told him wryly. “I may not be going to sell you, but I’m planning on renting you.” Before he could say anything else, she picked up her phone.

“I, ah.” He tried to stand; she yanked him back to the floor by his hair.

“Sit. Stay. You’re going to listen to this, Wish, because you need to understand.”

He sat, and stayed, gulping, while she dialed. “Yes, this is Jaelie du’Briar Rose. I have an offer to make Doctor Avonmorea.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/290652.html (Paying the Rent)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/226700.html. You can comment here or there.

The Leftover Gift

For Rix_Scaedu‘s prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

It’s also the last microfic of the December Giraffe Call!!



…some year between 25 and 35 of the Addergoole School, early in the year.

“I have… three cookies and half an onion.” Diarmaid stared at the tiny kitchenette. “What did you say you brought?”

“A potato and a box of minute rice, and Tony brought some butter and some soda.” Diar’s friends and podmates set their offerings on the counter. “And um,”

“Some vodka. And my eternal gratitude. The halls are pretty scary right now.”

“This entire place is scary,” Diar agreed. “All right, step back, me laddos, and let me see what I can do.” She pulled out a pie pan and started concocting.

“i don’t know how you can make anything out of that mess.”

“Well, and aren’t I a daughter of the crisis, the same as you’re children of it? If I couldn’t make a full meal from spit and beans, I wouldn’t have lasted very long.”

“You lived with your parents, I know you did,” Tony complained.

“And do I ruin your stories? Step back, let me work.” She wrinkled her nose at the pile of ingredients and began combining them, watching them double and double again, watching the edges of a real recipe fill themselves in. “And in twenty minutes, we’ll have a right tasty shepherd’s pie, and you keep your sheep nuts over there, thank you,” she scolded a newly-Changed classmate. “There.” She tossed the whole thing into the oven.

“How do you do it?” Tony asked, staring in awe.

“Ah, well, that’s an art and a secret,” she smirked, “the fine gift of the leftovers.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/224214.html. You can comment here or there.

Truth beauty,—that is all, a story of #Addergoole Year?? for @Trueform for the Giraffe Call

For @TrueForm’s prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ

The title comes from John Keats’ “Ode to a Grecian Urn

“So.” Althea squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

“Yeah… So.” Verdad studied her twin for a moment, then looked the other way. They hadn’t had much of a chance to speak in the last few months, their Keepers uncomfortable with the way the two of them were together. But Mendosa had put her foot down, and here they were.

“You got your Change, I guess…” Althea offered hesitantly.

“Yeah. You, too?”

“Yeah.” She lifted the long, whiplike tail and studied it uncertainly. “It’s not bad. Yours?”

“The same, of course.” She showed her twin the tail. “Well, not precisely of course; Dr. Regine says it can be like kitten spots…”

“…and different even in clones,” Althea nodded. “Ver, what’s wrong?”

“Orders,” her twin whispered. “Sometimes they run into my power.”

“Can you talk about that?”

“I… yes. Everything I speak is the truth. Even if I don’t mean to.”

“Oooh.” Thea nodded. “I can see, yeah. Well… speaking of kitten spots…”

“Yours is different?” She looked thoughtful. “But not entirely. Right?”

“I can always tell if someone is lying or telling the truth, or the funny grey areas in between.”

“I can imagine the teachers want to value that – what does your… what does Camry think?”

“He’s… of mixed opinions about that. I’m glad Donyal let you talk to me.”

Her sister smiled tiredly. “Mendosa was not going to let up until he did. And I told him that. I’ve…” She bit her lip. “I want to say I’ve missed you.”

“I know.” The grey edges of truth cut like knives. “Me, too, Vera.” But life was more complicated, now.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/215364.html. You can comment here or there.

Family at Christmastime, a story of #Addergoole for the Giraffe Call – @theladyisugly

For TheLadyisUgly’s prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.



Christmas Eve, Year 5 of the Addergoole School

The halls were quiet; it was, Yngvi mused, almost like the school was normal. Almost. He’d talked Ayla into an hour of hanging out, just the two of them, although it had been hard to pry her away from Io. The two were a beautiful couple; maybe some day…

He swallowed the sigh. Today should not be about angst, and there was enough to be happy about. “I’ve never had a sister before,” he told Ayla awkwardly, as they made their way into the tinsel-hung grotto.

“You have,” she teased. “From the sounds of it, lots and lots of sisters. And brothers.”

“And nieces and nephews,” he shook his head. “Our dear father seems to be both ancient and prolific.”

“Well, you’ll never be without family, then. Neither of us will. That’s kind of nice.”

“It is,” he agreed quietly. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah?” She looked at him crookedly.

VI took a deep breath. “Okay, I have a feeling I’ll be making this promise a lot over the next four years, but here goes. I promise you, Ayla, that no matter happens, no matter who shows up in my life or yours, if you need me, all you have to do is tell me that, and I’ll help you out, whatever I can do.”

The air rippled and settled around them with the promise, and his sister blinked back tears. “Oh, Vi!” She hugged him tightly against her. “Vi… I promise the same. I’ll always be there for you!”

Christmas Eve, Year 25 of the Addergoole School (2019, 8 years after the apocalypse began)

“How do you think they’re doing?” Signy murmured, clutching her mug of cocoa.

“They’ll be fine,” Yngvi reassured her – reassured all of them, really, sitting around the café pretending their children weren’t all in prison for the holidays.

“I thought they’d come home for Christmas,” Ayla murmured. She’d been the one to make the call, this year, although usually it was Ein or Signy. It was always one of them, his Addergoole sisters, every Christmas Eve since 2003 (and they had quite a few to choose from).

“Even when they’re not Kept, they usually don’t,” Rory murmured; Callie’s kids were older than any of theirs, and so he’d gone through this before. “It gets weird, you remember, trying to shift between the real world and Addergoole.”

“But they’re my babies,” Ayla murmured. “Ni came home last year.”

“Only because your threatened to disown her if you didn’t get to meet your grandbaby,” Vi reminded her. “And it’s not that safe to travel anymore, Ay, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Signy murmured. “They’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath. “Think of it this way, guys. We always had each other. There was never a year when we didn’t have a brother or sister – or both – there to watch our backs. And our kids? Exponentially more family than we had.”

That got a smile from Aelgifu. “Indeed,” Yngvi smiled. “Our kids will always be there for each other, too.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/202705.html. You can comment here or there.

Trojan Gift, a story of Addergoole Yr 9 for the Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] wyld_dandelyonprompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ, in year 9. Sylvia the Otter-girl is the character in the icon, by @Inventrix, shown here:
.

Third week of year 9 of the Addergoole school.

“You’re going to need this.”

Gar had no idea where the girl had come from; he’d been walking down a back hallway when she’d stepped out of nowhere in front of him.

He knew her from a couple of his classes, a slender, quiet girl with whiskers and paws that reminded him of an otter. Sylvia. She was pretty, but in a room full of aggressive beauties, she’d always faded into the background.

Garfunkel knew the feeling. He was, to quote his ex-girlfriend, “just a guy.” Just a guy, now, who seemed to shoot off crags of red stone when he got upset, like a particularly rocky porcupine version of the Hulk. Just a guy who, he was told, was very good at some odd magical words that made his tongue tingle.

And who, at the moment, was being faced with an otter-girl with some sort of necklace, no, collar, some sort of collar in her paw.

He shook his head, backing up slowly, holding up his own why-did-he-have-paws. “No, no thank you,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve seen all the collars around since, whatdy’acallit, Hell Night. I’ve seen everyone all hangdog and upset. I don’t need to join their ranks.”

“This is different,” she insisted. “It’s still a collar, but it’s different.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because I don’t lie, and I promise you I’m not lying to you. You are going to need what this collar gives you. I have a very strong feeling about that.”

“I have a very strong feeling about not becoming a brain-washed zombie,” he answered dryly.

“You won’t.” Sounding hurried and a bit irate, she added, “just put it on. It doesn’t mean anything without the words.”

“The words?” Her stare was rather unnerving; despite himself, Gar found himself taking the collar-thing from her and putting it around his neck.

“’With this ring…’ that sort of thing, the words your hang-dog friends said,” she hedged, and then, in his mind…

I Belong to You. The Fourth Law of Keeps states that one Ellehemaei –

Elle-?

Ellehemaei, the people of Ellehem, of the land that is not Earth. The fae, the Fair Folk, the Departed Gods. You.

Departed?

The answers flooded into his mind as the questions appeared, images and explanations, a tone in the mental voice that sounded like the otter-girl. When he opened his eyes, finally, there was one phrase on his lips. His mind full of what it meant, he still couldn’t help but say it.

“I Belong to you, Sylvia.”

“Yes,” she smiled, looking pleased. “You do.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/201427.html. You can comment here or there.

Throw out a line… a story of Addergoole post-apoc for the Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] jjhunter‘s prompt. This comes right after “You’d Better Watch Out,” and is a story of Addergoole/Fae Apoc (landing page here on DW and here on LJ).

The title is from the lyrics of this song, “He Can’t Even Bait a Hook.”

“What’s this?” Ahava stared at the contraption Constance was holding out.

“It’s a fishing pole. That’s a body of water with fish in it. Apply one to the other.”

“Why?”

“We’re teaching you to fish. This is part of my gift to you.”

“You stupid girl, that’s a figure of speech.”

She didn’t even wince. “And why shouldn’t it be a reality, too? You’ve never been good with either plant or animal Workings, Ahava. Without people to keep you fed, how will you eat?”

“I…” He stared at his former slave. He’d freed her as he graduated, and, in his mind, she’d always remained the same scared, easily-cowed crying girl he’d left behind. Looking at her now, he realized she’d grown up. Looking a the fishing pole she was holding out for him, he realized, a little shamefacedly, that he hadn’t.

“How do I even use this thing?” he asked angrily. Anger had always made her give in before.

“You put the worm on the hook, like so;” she picked up a second pole and demonstrated the disgusting-looking maneuver, “then you find a place where it looks like there are fish, and – back up, I haven’t done this in a few years -“

Prudently, Ahava backed up. Maybe if she couldn’t do it anymore, he wouldn’t have to, either?

“-and like this, you flick it out and let out some slack as you go, using this lever. See?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier,” he grumbled, as he reached for one of the nasty worms, “to teach me how to hunt? More practical, too.”

She leveled a cold gaze on him. “I don’t trust you with a weapon, Ahava. I promised to give you what you deserved and needed. I didn’t promise to make it easy.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/200557.html. You can comment here or there.

You’d better watch out, you’d better not… a story of Addergoole for the Giraffe Call @Lilfluff

For [personal profile] lilfluffprompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

He hadn’t been easy to find.

Constance had a feeling Ahava wanted it that way. If she had been him (which, clearly, she was not), if there were three people she would want not finding her after school, it would be herself, Quintin, and Luhanna, and not just because they were a sharp and effective crew.

But she had made him a promise – three promises, because Constance always did things in threes – and she was going to keep it, despite the world ending, despite what he had done to her (and to their daughter, and to the girl that came after her, and to her friends), despite the complete waste of space he could be. Despite that, or because of it, or superseding it.

Between the three of them, three years out of school, they had resources that, she thought, Ahava probably hadn’t planned on. Not that Ahava really planned on much – not yet. It might be that he would, when they were done with him. They called on every friend and every owed favor, every family member they could find, sent out feelers to every network they knew, bribed those they could and blackmailed those they couldn’t bribe. It took another three years, but Constance had nearly expected that.

They found in him the ruins of Vegas, in Aphrodite’s temple, stoned to the gills, giggling, a blond girl face-down in his crotch and a redheaded slave-boy oiling his shoulders. His Mask was down, his blue skin and green hair showing, his eyes luminescent. He wore nothing except a piece of beefcake armour, probably something he’d made himself.

“The hunters are coming,” Constance greeted him.

“They won’t get in here,” he yawned, not yet realizing who she was, who they were. “They never do. The guards stop them.”

“And when the guards are gone?” Quintin asked. “Then what will you do?”

“Find more guards? I don’t know, this is Aphrodite’s temple. Let her deal with it.”

“Aphrodite has been dead for three years, Ahava,” Luhanna murmured. “Her temple is in ruins, all but this little nook. Your slaves keep it for you, but your slaves are human. Eventually, they’ll get bored, or the food will run out.”

It was, Constance noted, Luhanna’s voice that got his attention. Somewhere in the back of her mind, that bothered her. She put that aside for later, as her former Keeper looked up at them.

“Connie? Lu? Quint? What are you guys doing here?” She was pleased to note that fear, at least, got through his haze.

“We came to bring you a present.” She spoke now, because this was her quest.

“A present?” He pushed the slaves away and stared at her, a little needle of comprehension sinking into him. “Con… Con, that bullshit promise you made?”

“That bullshit promise I made,” she agreed. “You have twenty-five minutes to pack up anything you can carry, and anyone who wants to come with you. You’re leaving with us.”

“Where?” He didn’t, she note, argue that he was coming. He’d never been stupid, at least.

She smiled grimly. “Out into the real world.” Or what was left of it.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/199839.html. You can comment here or there.

Peace, Quiet, and the Null, a story of (Addergoole??) for the Giraffe Call @inventrix

For [personal profile] inventrixprompt. This might be Addergoole, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

The class of 2014 was having problems. Cadfan woke in the morning to find his bed shredded, and it seemed every time he gestured, he shot knives from his hands, cutting up everything around him.

Aesara’s gift of being able to see everything that might happen, everything that could have happened, meant that even walking down the hall was nearly impossible, as she saw every path everyone might take. She had locked herself in her room because there, at least, the paths seemed to mostly lead to her dying quietly.

Chang didn’t mind things that much at first, until it turned out that having no friction really made, well, everything harder. Walking down the hall was nearly as impossible for him as it was for Aesara, and holding things required special concentration.

Merial might have been said to have it the worst, but nobody got a chance to ask her. Gills are not a fun power to have on dry land.

And in the middle of this walked Kyme, smoothly but not without friction, sharply but only of temper, with no more ability to see than any human, no more ability to breathe water than any mammal, no more beauty than any pretty girl, no more intelligence than any good student, no more strength than any athlete. In short, in walked Kyme, who was blessedly normal, who was blessedly quiet, and with her walked a small null zone, where, for a few moments, everyone else could have peace as well.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/199530.html. You can comment here or there.

…Haven’t You People Ever Heard of Closing the God-Damned Door… A story of #Addergoole, non-canon

Rix and I were talking about family trees, and how Mike VanderLinden ends up twice on a standard family tree program, and that led to how Mike should clone itself. This is what resulted. (The lyrics were Rix’s idea; googling them got me to Panic! At the Disco, hence the title)

Mike and Manira are both Addergoole characters. Short version: Mike is a succubus, a Daeva, a bloodline of gender-fluid fae. So’s Manira, but due to Plot, she is stuck in the body of a half-breed teenaged student.



Last night, can’t remember.
What happened? Where’d we go?
I woke up this morning.
Where’s my car? Where’s my keys? Where’s my clothes?
I feel my head still spinning but I’m doing alright
Cause I think I just had the best night of my life.
Last night, can’t remember.
What happened? Did it happen? Last night
~“Last Night,” Good Charlotte

Mike woke with a mouth full of cotton and a feeling in his head like something had been rearranged. No – her head. She looked down at herself, wondering what the feeling like… oh.

She rolled over in the bed – not her bed. Her bed was softer, and generally darker. The succubus Manira smirked back at her, licking her lips as if devouring a tasty secret.

“How’re you feeling, lover?” the girl purred.

“I… ill,” Mike admitted. How had she ended up here? For that matter, where was here? And what did Manira know that she didn’t? “Where are my clothes?”

“Tch, never did figure that out, did you, pretty? I’ll get your clothes when I’m damn good and ready to.”

“Is that any way to talk to your Mentor?” Mike complained.

“Is that any way to talk to the only one in the room who knows what you did last night? Or you could go back on your high horse, little girl… and in nine months you can admit you don’t know who should Name it.”

“Name… Manira!”

“Not me, pretty thing, I’m still stuck in this body. No cock.” She made a rude gesture. “What’ll it be, Professor Prettypants?”

Mike sighed, wondering how she seemed to end up with this strange girl grabbing her by the short ones. “What can I do for you, Manira?” And who knocked me up?

“That’s a good professor,” the girl cooed. “Now come here and kiss me properly.”

An exhausting, hot, sweaty two hours later, Mike lay back on the bed, parts of her throbbing that hadn’t felt want like this in centuries. Manira had a way of making everything feel just a little dirty, just a little wrong, and she ate it up, devoured it in a way that managed to make Mike feel like less of an incubus by comparison.

She was patting Mike’s tit now, making the Daeva ache with a new surge of need. “I knew you could e a sweet ride if you were properly convinced. And I won’t do it again, Professor, but I wanted to taste you properly motivated.”

“Unh.” She wasn’t sure she could manage more than that. “Baby?” Oh, yes. The reason she’d ended up like this.

“I’m really surprised you can’t remember at all… that drink must have been better than I was told. You students really are quite impressive pharmacologists, Mikey.”

“Baby?” she insisted. Drugged. Oh, good. She really had to have a talk with Luke and Regine about that.

“Silly girl. You’re the father.”

“Mother?”

“Mother, too. I’m sure Regine will be thrilled.” She patted Mike’s stomach. “Be careful with the little peanut. It took a bit of bending to get it in there.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/190429.html. You can comment here or there.