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Frying Pans, etc.

For The [personal profile] clare_dragonfly‘s commissioned prompt, a follow-up to Fae-Bane (LJ)

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole Year 9 – landing page here (or on LJ)

Commenters: 0

Timora had two little brothers and an older stepbrother. The moment the hand covered her mouth, she did what had worked so many times before – she licked it.

“Ew!” The hand pulled away, giving her a chance to turn around and see her would-be assailant. The boy held up both hands defensively, then quickly dropped one to wipe it on his pants. “Just… be quiet for a minute, okay, and come here in the shadows. I swear I mean you no harm today.”

Today. She nodded uncertainly, and let him tug her deeper into the shadowed hallway, trying not to stare. It was hard; even in the dim light, his eyes gleamed green – and slit-pupiled, like a cat, which, given the tiger-like ears sticking out of his hair, made sense. She reached out to touch one, wondering if they were on some sort of headband. She’d seen some of the upperclassmen with – Calvin said it was a Mask, like a glamour out of a fairy tale – with their glamour down, but she hadn’t been brave enough to touch. Now – well, he didn’t look scary at all. He looked, if anything, like he was afraid of her.

His ear twitched, and he chuckled nervously. “They’re real,” he assured her. “Now… please don’t scream, okay? I can’t protect you if you make me run away.” He gestured dismissively to a complaint she hadn’t voiced. “Okay, okay, you can do pretty well making everyone else run away too. But… you’ve noticed some weirdness?”

Timora pinched his ear pointedly. Weirdness, said the boy with cat ears. Siberian tiger ears, she was pretty sure. And oddly familiar, although the stripes were throwing her off.

“Ow! Yeah, okay. And some of the strangeness is… inhuman…?”

She didn’t pinch his ear again, much as she wanted to, instead wiggling all her fingers at him: oooh, scary woogy stuff.

“Yes, that, exactly. All right. So, did you wander the through the Hallway of no Sound?”

Hallway of no… She shook her head, then nodded it, hoping he got the point – she understood. Would her voice really scare people away? Or was this another stupid prank? “Calvin…” she began, and stopped when the boy’s ears went flat.

“Calvin ran away when you screamed. Ass that he is, he was probably waiting to trap you.” He shook his head – more and more, she thought she ought to know him, if only he weren’t so catty – and kept talking before she could try voicing another objection, or the oh, god, I made him run away, now he’ll never go to a dance with me. “I know he seemed nice, Timora, but a lot of people are really nice around here until Hell Night.”

“How…” Was she going to have to go through life mute? She pressed her lips together unhappily.

“Oh… sorry.” He made a complex hand gesture, and then, from behind him somewhere, produced a fedora. The hat went on his head – and the stripes and slitted eyes vanished, revealing a boy she’d sat behind in Lit and next to in History for two weeks. “I’m Porter.”

She mimed “Oh,” figuring that was safe enough, and gestured out into the hall and back to their hidey hole: What are you doing hiding here?

He was really quite good at charades. “The same thing as every other upperclassman on Hell Night,” he told her sadly.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/161126.html. You can comment here or there.

One Sharp Mother

For [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned request for more from the Baram story posted in Monster (LJ) and Memories (LJ)

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole Year 17 – landing page here (or on LJ)

Thanks to @inventrix and @dahob for the names.

Commenters: 0



Late October, 2011

Jaelie was in the garden when the gods attacked. The garden, such as it was, was her territory, her sanctum and responsibility. She’d been the first to be hired, such as it was, by Baram (“bought” might have been more accurate, but the pay was good and the work not onerous, and she had little to complain of), the first to come looking for him after graduation, intrigued by the legend he’d left behind, and she’d thus been the first to carve out her own place in his haven.

She’d taken to spending her mornings there, getting it ready for winter, mulching the beds and wrapping the trees. Baram didn’t mind what they did in the areas of the house and yard they’d claimed, so she coaxed hawthorn and rowan trees into a hedge along the back and grew tomatoes, peppers, potatoes (their employer was quite the meat-and-potatoes sort of guy), herbs and poisons along the fences, strawberries for the kids and squash for Viatrix. It gave her something to do with her free time, and a way to practice her Working and keep the magical muscles, as her former Mentor liked to call them, in shape.

Pruning the hawthorn – doing anything with the hawthorn, but on this day, she was pruning it – took thick gloves and a patient hand, Workings mumbled under the breath and a quick eye for trouble, so it wasn’t until the kids came yelling into the back yard that Jaelie realized their city had been invaded.

She counted noses with the force of habit – two, three, five, six, nine? Nine? Like every graduate of Addergoole, she had her two, and Baram’s other two “house elves” had theirs with them as well, (at least in Alkyone’s case, not out of any maternal sense, but because Addergoole taught you to never give up any advantage, and never give away anything for free). There should be six children, and – she counted again – yes, the six that were theirs were there, as well as, no, not three, another six kids from the neighborhood. Seven; they were trailing slowly in past her gates, looking around nervously.

“What’s going on?” she asked sharply, looking to the children that belonged here for an answer.

Gerulf spoke up first – the oldest and one of Jaelie’s by blood. “School got let out and nobody’s parents are home, but I knew you’d be here, so I figured this was safer.”

Safe was an acceptable reason to break protocol by bringing friends home. “Safer?” she repeated anyway. “What’s going on?”

“There’s monsters in the streets,” one of the kids’ friends offered. “And some sort of dragon in the air.”

“Shit.” She ignored the giggles from the kids not her own. “Ger, get them inside. You know the drill. Stop and let Vi and Aly know what you told me, then get behind the heavy doors.”

“Aw, come on, Mom.” He’d just turned ten and, with Baram as his male example, thought he was old enough to fight the world. “Can’t I stay and help?”

“No.” She pulled the trump card. “You need to protect Lilja.” Vi’s youngest was barely three years old, the pampered baby sister of their tribe. “Go.” She shooed them on, not wanting the mundane children to see what she was about to do.

~

Jaelie never knew if the creatures followed some sort of scent-of-Ellehemaei, or if it was sheer dumb luck that they stumbled into her hedge. By the time they arrived, her Workings had taken hold, and the sleepy hawthorns had transformed into an angry hedge. She wasn’t Named Briar Rose for nothing, after all, and the first creature through was nearly dead by the time he reached her.

To her flanks, Viatrix and Alkyone had finished the pit traps and were waiting with to burn and shock any intruders. They’d hoped they’d be lucky enough to be missed – even with the hedge, from the outside they still looked much like any other house on the block – but they weren’t taking chances. They hadn’t survived four years of Addergoole by taking stupid chances.

When the first creature broke through – fell through, really; her hedges were hungry and she’d taken lessons from Valentina as well as Valerian – Jaelie speared him to the ground. “Submit,” she demanded.

He coughed blood on her shoes, blood that slowly began eating at the leather of her boots. “Bitch,” he choked, “I’d rather die.”

Viatrix obliged him, her backhanded stroke casual enough to make Jaelie wince, while Alkyone turned to knock down the next intruder. Then a third came through, and a fourth, and the battle was on in earnest.

The combat was bloody and hard. Training her magical muscles or not, Jaelie had been out of school for six and a half years, and PTA meetings were an entirely different sort of battle. Her sisters in arms, younger, fresher, and cy’Fridmar, both of them, fared somewhat better, but the damn things kept coming. In all, Jaelie counted nine of the returned-gods monsters, although at least three of them could have been the same guy with an obnoxious power.

With every thrust and stroke and Working, with every cut she took and every stab she dealt out, Jaelie focused on keeping the intruders from the house, wondering, even as she fought and bled, where the hell their monster was. Where was the man who had bought their service with his protection and cash? Where was the monster she’d sought out because, of all of Addergoole’s legends, he seemed as if he’d be possible to work with? As the battle pressed on, the thoughts took two directions at once – damnit, where’s Baram when we need him? and shit, where’s Baram? If there’s this many here…

And then they had the last asshole pinned to the ground, three rowan spears holding him on place, and Viatrix was spitting out the line they’d already used five times. “Submit.”

“I yield,” this one choked out, through a mouthful of blood – thankfully not the burning sort. “Shit, you women are fierce. I didn’t think a halfbreed could…”

“Not the throat, Alkyone!” At the last minute, the former cy’Fridmar’s second spear went into the asshole’s chest instead.

“Yield better,” Jaelie told the returned-and-debased god, amused despite herself. “We’re not big on senses of humor around here.”

The god – probably a Grigori, or whatever they called themselves when they stepped through from the other side – coughed ruefully. “I place myself in your hands, because I don’t really want to die to-” he fell into a hacking fit for a moment “-day. What’s your Name?”

They shared a look, and, in the end, it was Jaelie who offered “Briar Rose.” She’d had lots of practice getting the tone right – laugh and I’ll kill you. He didn’t laugh this time.

“Then I am yours, Briar Rose, until you choose to release me.”

Her answer was cut short by a crashing from the front lawn.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/160866.html. You can comment here or there.

Night Terrors

For Cluudle‘s prompt.

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole Year 5 – landing page here (or on LJ)

Commenters: 0

Content warning: implied/remembered sexual assault.


November 24-25, Year 5 of the Addergoole School
(After Chapter 145)

“I know what to do with a little bitch like you.” The giant threw Yngvi to the ground, ripping his clothes off with a single gesture. “That’s where you belong anyway, and you know it, don’t you? You’re never going to be anything more than a pitiful little piece of shit. Can’t stand up for yourself, can’t even manage to make the loudmouth little shit act like a decent human being, and notice how your friends don’t argue? They know I’m your best option.” The foot landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. “They know you’re better off under me.”

Yngvi woke with a start, dragging himself out of the dream, and stared at the dimly-lit ceiling, trying not to hear the voice of his nightmares sneering at him. He’d been training with his Mentor, Professor Solomon, every day, and Solomon had managed to talk Luke into taking him on as a self-defense and combat student twice a week, but it didn’t stop the dreams. It didn’t stop him flinching when he saw Ardell in the hall, or when Emrys made a stupid joke, or when he saw Aneislis’ collar and the nervous-infatuated-terrified way the boy looked at Ardell. It didn’t stop him from wondering what it would have been like, if it had been him who had gotten trapped into the collar.

Kneeling in front of his master, terrified, starving, bruised, leaning into any attention, even violence, because it meant his master had noticed him, begging for scraps of attention, begging to be allowed in bed with him at night… Yngvi had seen the Kept in Addergoole. Better to be alone forever than to risk that.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/157816.html. You can comment here or there.

Creeped

For The Cluudle‘s prompt.

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole Year 9 – landing page here (or on LJ)

Commenters: 4


Hell Night, Year 9 of the Addergoole School

“Hey, pretty, pretty, whatcha doing out all alone?” The man against the wall – “man,” because she still hadn’t come up with words that fit for the weird creatures she’d found herself in school with – smirked unkindly at her, and waved his hand at the ground, causing it to buckle and warp under her feet. Ceinwen gritted her teeth and kept walking, trying not to show any fear. It was like getting off at the wrong bus stop – although the people in the numbered streets had been humans, and this guy with the yellowish wood-grain-looking skin and the hair like pine needles didn’t really seem to qualify.

What was she doing out all alone, indeed. She’d lost Ahouva right away – Kendon had grabbed her, told her he had something special for her, and off they’d gone. Jovanna and Æolind had gotten separated in a corner of the hall that had gone all black and inky, and turned Ceinwen and Kay around into a corridor they’d never seen before.

Kay had, as far as Ceinwen could tell, run off through a brick wall. She was still trying to figure out how that had worked, but right now, what she knew was that it left her alone, with creepy yellow guys taunting her, and the hall slowly filling with water.

Water? That was a new one. The stuff around her toes looked like brackish water, though, and it felt like the carpet was water-logged, although it was hard to see it through the greenish liquid. The call-it-water was rising, too, lapping around her ankles. Ceinwen hurried on, trying to get away from wood-boy without looking like she was trying to get away.

“Come on, honey. You don’t want to go swimming, come play with me instead.” He held out a branch – hand, it was a hand – to her, even leaned off the wall like he was going to walk her way. “I can be a lot of fun.”

“No, thanks,” she answered – no need to be rude, it’s possible he was just being friendly, friendly in a creepy way – just as her foot slipped down, down, down, pulling her underwater.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/154523.html. You can comment here or there.

Brief Apperance notes on Timora

Timora, from Fae-Bane

Her photoref pre-change is this; I’m still chewing on her Change.

She’s on the part of the family tree that involves Smitty http://pics.livejournal.com/aldersprig/pic/00044hd5 – who is a kelpie – and several non-canon characters. I *know* her change involves water/water spirits – I’m thinking a semi-water-horse-faun thing?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/153952.html. You can comment here or there.

Fae-Bane

For The [personal profile] clare_dragonfly‘s prompt.

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole Year 9 – landing page here (or on LJ)

Commenters: 7


Hell Night, Year 9 of the Addergoole School
The halls were dark and the noises echoing through them sounded nasty. Timora had told Calvin she’d meet him at breakfast, though, and he was the nicest guy who’d ever shown an interest in her, so, scary or not, she headed out into the halls.

Things got worse the further she got from her room. The floor seemed sticky, muddy, grabbing at her ankles in the pretty shoes that really weren’t all that practical. The halls seemed to close in on her, and walls weren’t where they were supposed to be. Strange gooey things squirted out at her from around corners, staining her pretty white shirt and the skirt that she’d bought at the store specially for this not-really-a-date. Hands grabbed at her, tugging her in all directions.

She struggled on through, hoping that Calvin would understand, hoping that everything would be okay, until she found a quiet, better-lit hallway, a stairway in sight. There. The goo on her shirt was drying clear. Her skirt was fine, if a little wrinkled. She’d be fine. She’d be…

Hands from nowhere grabbed her around the neck, while other hands grabbed both her wrists, fingernails digging in deeply as she was stretched in three directions, tugged nearly off her feet. Startled as much as frightened, Timora screamed.

The scream seemed to rip through her, coming out her toes and her spine as much as it did out of her mouth, ripping the hallway, shaking the foundations of the underground school. The hands around her let go, and she went tumbling to the floor to the very faint sound of feet running away.

Behind her, she heard a quiet, strangled sound of anguish. She turned around slowly, to see a tall boy staring in horror at her. At her, when his hair looked like a hedgehog was sitting on his head and he had more buckles on his clothes than a gathering of Pilgrims.

“What?” she asked, her voice hoarse from screaming and, somehow, still making the walls quake. The wide-eyed boy, with another strangled sound, turned and fled.

“I don’t…” Timora began, just as a hand clamped over her mouth.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/153567.html. You can comment here or there.

Hell Night – #Addergoole Years 1, 4, 7

For Bovidae‘s prompt.

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole – landing page here (or on LJ)

This happens before/after the storyline of Addergoole, and stars the school’s invisible librarian

Commenters: 8



Year One of the Addergoole School: Hell Night

The idea, Wysteria was willing to admit, had merit. Stress had been proven to accelerate the Change and, it could be assumed, in some cases pushed a Change where otherwise the Ellehemaei would have remained Faded.

On top of that, it was rather fun to ghost invisibly through the hallways, playing poltergeist, making things float and poking students who were managing to be too blasé about the whole thing. There, that lovely girl Dita with the excessive assets; Wysteria whispered some nonsense in pseudo-Latin in her ear, and was rewarded with a wonderful jump.

Scaring the students could be fun!

Year Four of the Addergoole School: Hell Night

The First Cohort had taken over the scary parts of Hell Night with gusto and, by now, the Second and Third Cohorts were joining in. There wasn’t any need for the staff to don scary faces anymore, but this year, Wysteria felt as if she should watch.

The gauntlet was scarier, darker, more horror-movie and less haunted house than the staff’s version. And her son was out in it (all their children had been out in it; that was part of the malice of Regine’s plan).

A scream cut the air, and the librarian drifted to investigate. Hell Night, indeed.

Year Seven of the Addergoole School: Hell Night

Wysteria frowned repressively (and invisibly) at the two Sixth Cohort students working their way through the History section. Her Library was not supposed to be part of their bloody hazing ritual. She was supposed to be left out of it.

And the child with them? A Seventh, a skinny boy, blindfolded, bound, and bruised. They were getting out of hand again, and nobody seemed willing to stop them.

She waited until they had dumped the boy in a blind passageway, and then Wysteria began to show the miserable little monsters what a true Hell Night was supposed to look like.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/151305.html. You can comment here or there.

Halloween 1988

For an anonymous prompt.

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole – landing page here (or on LJ)

This happens before the storyline of Addergoole and may or may not be canon.

Commenters: 3

“Well, this will be interesting.” Maureen studied the incoming parents and small children flowing into the well-decorated Village. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Regine?”

“Normal American children celebrate Halloween, correct?” the Director asked crisply. “And, right now, the children of our project are normal American children.”

“Well, not all of them are American, but I see your point,” Maureen ceded. Even if “normal” was open to debate. “But they’re so young – you don’t really think they’re remember this, do you?”

“They may. And if they don’t, we can see how they’re progressing.”

“Of course.” Always with her project motives, never seeing the human – the person – behind the project. Maureen tut-tutted quietly and went off to see how the party preparations were going.

“What are you supposed to be?” A tiny girl – maybe five years old, if Maureen was any judge – was looking up at a dour-faced Doug.

“A centurion,” he told her gravely, and then, much to Maureen’s surprise, knelt down so she could see the way his breastplate was put together. “You?”

“Me?” She did a happy twirl of her lavender and purple dress. “I’m a good witch. I’m Shahin.” She offered him a hand solemnly. “This is Kailani,” she pointed at the freckled ginger girl next to her, who was wearing a tailored navy-blue suit with a red tie. “She’s dressed as the first woman president. And this is Jamian.” The little boy trailing along behind had a beard glued to his chin, and giant paper-mache horns. “He’s a goat.”

“Baa,” the boy offered uncertainly.

“Very nice costumes,” Doug agreed solemnly. “I think you all did very well.”

On the other side of Main Streets, two small children were shouting at each other. Maureen stood, leaving the adorable set of children to their conversation with the dour warrior, and hurried over to break up the fight. She was already getting quite a bit of practice at that.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/148609.html. You can comment here or there.

Not Everyone Makes it Out

For Stryck‘s prompt.

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole – landing page here (or on LJ)

This happens before/during the storyline of Addergoole.

Commenters: 4



“Look,” Eris insisted, her voice a hiss, “you can’t kill him. Anything else, sure, but it’s not like you can hide murder here, and if you kill another student, you’ll get expelled.”

“How do you know?” Mark was angry enough to be seeing red, but Eris had proven an accurate, if paranoid, guide to this school so far.

“Shad told me, okay? I don’t know how he figured it out. But it’s the one thing they’ll expel you for. That’s what they say, at least… and I don’t want to risk it.”

~

Viridian couldn’t seem to get out.

She knew, in a vague, unclear sense, that she was dead. She’d been dead for several years now – she’d seen her body, seen it taken out to the Village, watched them bury her with all the rites they thought they owed her. (She’d watched them take samples from her body, take her eggs and preserve them, as well, but she tried not to think too hard about that.)

She’d watched them usher dJango out of the school – quietly, with no fanfare, with layers and layers of mind Working to suppress all his memories of the school – while her body was still cooling on a slab, watched as they removed everything of him from the premises, and tucked his files away in a black folder. She’d thought when he was gone, she’d fade or move on. She thought when they buried her, maybe, then she’d be able to go. But, though the pull of elsewhere tugged at her, it was a distant and faint pull, and she couldn’t get past the edge of the property.

She tried to sleep, sometimes, but the room that had been hers was occupied by someone from the Third Cohort, a pretty girl with blue feathered hair. She hadn’t spent much time there, her first year, but now, her Keeper graduated, she’d sit up at night staring at the walls. Sometimes Viridian wondered if the girl could see her. Sometimes she tried to talk to her, but the girl never replied.

She wondered how long she’d be stuck here, wandering the halls, reading idly in the library when someone left a book on the table, studying over people’s shoulders in classes. She wondered if anyone would ever find her.

She wondered, when the halls were quiet and she was alone with her thoughts, what she’d done, that had made dJango snap so badly, how she’d pushed her Kept so badly that he’d ended up killing her.

And she wondered why he’d gotten to leave, and she was stuck here, even after death.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/148412.html. You can comment here or there.

Memories

For Rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole – landing page here (or on LJ)

This happens after the storyline of Addergoole; for reference, see this guest story

Commenters: 2

It had never ceased to plague him. His memories of death and dying were picture-perfect, dozens of deaths, at least, some of them in worlds that had made Professor Valerian frown and Professor Pelletier twitch when he described them (which was, of course, half of why he described them). But his memories of what was, in theory, his current life, were either non-existant or fuzzy. Even large parts of his time at Addergoole were a blur.

He worked as a mechanic, because he was good at it, because he didn’t have to remember much from day to day (the skills didn’t go, just the people, and the events), and because it paid well. He paid a couple former Students of his Former Mentor, and one from Valerian, to keep his cave – a house when he’d started and, from the outside, still mostly a house – and his bed warm and comfortable, more than willing to share the money. You helped your cy’ree. He didn’t forget that. You helped your crew, your cy’ree, and your brothers. If he had any of those.

But now the stupid departed gods were coming back, and they were ruining all of that. The world kept moving, changing, and his uncertain memory couldn’t keep up with the changes the interlopers were imposing on the city around him. The clients who kept money in his pocket were fleeing the city, and encouraging him to do the same. Run and hide. Prey ran and hid, and girls. He might hate his memories of death, but Baram did not fear it.

He thumped down the street from the shop – no work today, go home, the boss had said, get your girl and get out of here – to his home, pushing aside overturned cars and, once, because it was in his way, moving a broken bus off a wounded human. He muttered the healing Words at the human so she’d stop screaming; something was wrong. The place where his cave was looked wrong.

A growl started deep in Baram’s throat. The fucking returned gods had gone too far.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/147351.html. You can comment here or there.