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Monster

Oct15

For Cluudle‘s prompt.

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

This happens before the storyline of Addergoole; for reference, see this chapter

Commenters: 2

Badrick died.

He died like he had in his dreams, bloody and violently. They pulled him apart, the mob, and, although the details were different, the pain was the same. The shouting was the same. The blood splattering everywhere, his blood, his entrails, his life.

“Why?” he managed, before the farmer hit him in the throat with the pitchfork. He knew why, deep in his cold heart. Monster, they’d screamed. Monster, beast, demon. Demon, they shouted, as the pitchfork pierced his heart.

That wouldn’t be enough to kill him, not on its own, but they had come prepared. They doused him in oil, pinned him to the crossroads with wooden stakes, his heart still pumping blood out of his body, his lungs still trying to push air. They lit him on fire and then, by some luck, then, as his pants began to burn, he lost consciousness.

~

Robert woke screaming, not for the first time, rolled over and stifled the scream in his pillow before anyone could hear him. He could still feel the fire licking over his skin, although a quick, surreptitious pat-down told him that no, he wasn’t on fire. He wasn’t dying. Not this time, not right now.

He wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep tonight. He slipped on a shirt over his sweats, checked to make sure he hadn’t woken anyone, and headed out for a walk.

The dreams weren’t always the same, but they always ended badly, in blood and fire; they always ended with or near death. And they’d been getting worse. They’d been getting more and more vibrant, lately, seeming to take over even when he was awake.

His ankle twisted, snapped, seemed to stretch out of shape, and he grunted, swallowing another scream. Now even the pain was following him into the waking hours. Was he never going to have a moment of peace, a moment – thought and complaint were cut off by a feeling like his skin splitting, as if everything inside was too big to be contained anymore.

A woman screamed, loud and terrified. “A monster!” Mrs. Colburn, from down the street. She sat behind them in church. “A monster!” she repeated, “a demon from hell! Kill it, KILL IT!”

~

He woke in a field, in pain and stinking of smoke, with no memory of how he’d gotten there, no memory of what it was like to not be in pain… no memory, he realized, at all.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/147086.html. You can comment here or there.

Standoff

Oct14

New flash series! I’m going to write one flash for every Icon I have, over 4 LJ accounts, 1 DW, and a whole bunch of not-currently-in-use, until I get bored or run out of icons.

Today’s icon:

Jamian, from Addergoole.

Icon & Art by Djinni

This is in line with Addergoole‘s main timeline, and takes place around Chapter 141-2.

This is going to end badly. But I think that’s okay. Worried and stressed, Jamian didn’t want to go back to the suite yet. He might be the only empath in the crew, but that didn’t mean the rest of them weren’t observant (except Ty, but that was an issue for another day). The Library didn’t seem to like him, the Store bored him, and the Arcade would be full of people.

That left the Village – also full of people, many of them small people and far too many of those Ty’s offspring – and the grotto.

The doors to the grotto were still nearly-invisible, even when the doors to the outside were cooperating, but he managed to find a knob after three tries – and thank god there weren’t any invisible students wandering around, or he’d have run the risk of accidentally groping them – and stepped into the lush rain-forest atmosphere of the indoor garden.

The vines liked to reach out for the unwary, but he found if he stuck to the middle of the path, very few could reach. Perhaps they were pruned that way? Someone had to take care of this place, after all.

Focused on the foliage and the path, the first he saw of the other person was his shoes – black, combat boots, scuffed around the edges. That could be any number of Addergoole students; he looked up further – black pants, no help there – and further up still. The long, dour, Masked face of Aviv greeted him.

Okay, I got to that, and it was 250 words exactly and I said… well, poo, that’s mean, even for me, but I don’t have another Jamian icon coming up any time soon… hey. I just got an Aviv icon. So this one is out of sequence.


Aviv, from Addergoole: this isn’t quite how I see him, but not far off (he had more mouthy squid bits, but, of course, he always Masks them, so maybe he’s half-Masked?

Icon & Art by Catfaice

Aviv glowered at the interloper. He just wanted a few minutes of peace, not to deal with more Fifth drama. Especially not Fifth drama attached to Ty, who was notorious for going overboard in protection of his Kept. There had been that one time someone had made a grab for Shiva… no, not the sort of thing he wanted to get embroiled in, much less be the one responsible for starting a crew war.

From the look on the kid’s face, he was having a similar train of thought. Good. He held up both gloved hands, palms facing the little Daeva. “I’m just looking for some peace and quiet.”

The kid looked him up and down – Jamian, that was his name, right? In Ardell’s cy’ree. And Ty’s. – and clearly noted the guitar, although what else he was noticing – damn succubi – was anyone’s bet. He nodded slowly and showed his hands, mirroring Aviv’s gesture. “Me, too,” he confessed.

A heartbeat passed, and another. They were blocking each other’s path, on a route too narrow to step aside without risking the poisonous vines – and whose idea, Aviv thought sourly, had it been to put poisonous vines in a student hide-out?

Aviv opened his mouth to say something – anything, even, “so, are you going to move?” – to find that Jamian had done the same. Well, let him talk first. Aviv had done his turn on the bottom rung.

“Quipia Tlacatl Jamian oro’Tya(*),” he murmured, and stepped off the path. “It’s a big grotto.”

(*)Preserve the Flesh of Jamian, owned by Tya

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/145542.html. You can comment here or there.

(no subject)

Oct13

Addergoole Main timeline takes place in 1999, Year 5 of the School.

Year 9 is thus 2003-2004. As a reference point, the apocalypse in this setting begins in June 2011.

Hell Night is the Second Saturday of the School Year.
“His,” & “I Hate You” are the Sunday after that.
“Keys” an “Dark Corners” are the Monday after that.
“Arguments with one’s self” Tuesday after that, followed by “Support in Strange Places”
There’s a dance that Saturday, 3rd Saturday
“Say Yes” is the following Tuesday, the third Tuesday of the school year.
“Misery Loves” is the day after that
Prevention v. Cure is this week, 4th week of the year
Skip weekend, 4th weekend
dance weekend, where something happens to Ahouva (as mentioned in the 3-Way stories), 5th weekend
Skip weekend, 6th weekend
dance weekend, 7th weekend
The Three-Way series of shorts (which starts with Witness) takes place the Sunday starting the 8th week.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/145228.html. You can comment here or there.

Three-Way – the Duet

Oct10

Three Way came out of Giraffe Call and was sponsored for continuation by Rix_Scadeau. Originally posted here and on LJ, continued here (LJ) and then here (LJ

Ahouva clung to Basalt’s arm, not sure what he was doing or why he was doing it. Give Lolly back to Jeremiah? Was he going to give her back, too? She looked over at Kendon, still sprawled on the floor. He’d been really good to her, gentle and patient. It hadn’t been his fault that she was clumsy and stupid, that she made him…

No, that wasn’t right. That’s what he had said, over and over again. “I’m good to you, and you keep fucking up. I’m so patient with you, sweetie, but even I have my limits. I don’t like punishing you, but you leave me no choice.”

But she was bad. She’d been so slow to learn anything, even magic, which she loved, said all the wrong things around his friends, embarrassed him so much he’d started leaving her at home when he hung out with them…

She swallowed a sob. Why would Basalt want her? “Why?” she whispered softly.

He paused in his slow navigation of the bloody lounge and looked down at her. His smile looked gentler than anything she’d expected to see from him. “Why? It had to be done.”

It was almost what he’d said before, and it didn’t explain anything. “But…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “but shush for just a couple minutes, okay? Then we can talk about it as much as you want.”

She sealed her lips and nodded mutely. Give Lolly back… And Basalt was, still holding her, kneeling by Jeremiah, who looked so very close to dead. He muttered something – a Working, something to do with kaana, that was air, right? – and then spoke softly to the gutted scarecrow. Gutted. The guy holding her had done that, hadn’t he? Kendon might have, but Kendon was in no better shape.

“I don’t know what you were up to,” Basalt was murmuring softly, “but we both know I’m not up to handling Lolly.”

Ahouva looked up at the petite blonde in the ridiculous little-girl outfit, sucking on a lollypop and watching a pool of blood move towards her toes. She shivered, faintly, when the girl looked up at her, ice-blue eyes dispassionate. She had caught looks like that before, when Lolly happened to meet her eyes, as if wondering what she’d look like opened up on a table, dissected. She’d heard stories of what the other girl was like in Biology class, too, what she was like doing dissections. What would she have been like, if Jeremiah had won Ahouva? Was that why he’d challenged Kendon for her?

“…so let’s make this quick,” Basalt was saying. “As per the terms of the challenge…”

“Lolly, you Belong to Basalt,” Jeremiah croaked.

Lolly nodded, still smiling. “Okay. I’m all yours, Basalt,” she chirped. Ahouva wondered if either of the guys saw the tears leaking down the girl’s face.

“Yes, you are. And now, as per the terms of our agreement, Liliandra cy’Linden, you Belong to Jeremiah the Prophet.”

For the first time since meeting her, Ahouva saw the other girl look startled. “I what? I… you what?” She looked down at Jeremiah with a faintly accusing glare. “That wasn’t…” She shook her head. “I Belong to you, Jeremiah, the Prophet.”

“Yes, yes you do, doll,” he grunted out. “Now go get me Dr. Caitrin, please.”

While she scampered off, Basalt stood, still cradling Ahouva. “Now that that’s done, we can talk.”

She wasn’t certain if he meant that she could talk, so Ahouva nodded, her lips still pressed together. Of everything Kendon had done when he was mad at her, she’d hated being shushed the most. It meant she couldn’t even argue in her own defense.

“I’m going to take you to my room,” he continued. “We’ll get your stuff from Kendon’s room after the doctor is done with him, and then we can work out everything else.”

Everything else? He sounded surprisingly reasonable for a thug, but he was still in public. The worst wouldn’t happen until the doors were closed and the Administration could pretend nothing was going on. Ahouva nodded again, wishing he’d get on with it.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her, as he carried her down the hall like a doll. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

She stared at him incredulously. Was that was this was all about? Did he think he was rescuing her? Had she seriously just been white-knight-and-the-dragon by a cy’Fridmar monster?

That expression actually got him to stop, and, worse, it got him frowning. “All right, we’re almost there,” he said, almost to himself, and started walking again. Maybe ten steps later, he shifted her weight in his arms, opened the door, and let them in.

His room, Ahouva decided, was very man-cave. Dimly-lit, dark colors, not all that messy but that seemed, in part, to be because there wasn’t that much stuff. The bed and a desk chair were the only places to sit; he put her down on the bed and pulled up a chair.

“Okay. One, I rescind the order to shush, and I apologize for that, but I wanted to deal with Jeremiah while he was still half-knocked out with pain. He’s too smart to deal with normally.”

“It’s okay,” she demurred. Was the blanket on his bed… fur?

“So,” he continued, not really acknowledging her answer, “I don’t know why he was challenging for you. Do you?”

“No?” She shook her head. “I never even talked to him – or to his Kept. I only have one class with him,” she added hurriedly, “and I always sit next to… sat next to Kendon.” Now what was she going to do?

“I don’t think he was going for ‘romantic’ motives,” Basalt assured her. “But I wonder what he was up to.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Did I really look like I needed rescuing? I tried to smile and put a good face on in public, I really did!”

“Hey,” he interjected, surprise and worry clear on his face. “Hey, Ahouva, nobody’s yelling at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You managed to keep a stiff upper lip so well, it took a long time to notice anything was wrong.”

“Wrong? I mean, Kendon and I had our rough spots, but I was learning how to do better… I didn’t need rescuing,” she blurted, and then slapped her hands over her mouth. He could just give her back, too, right? Kendon couldn’t be too mad at her.

Basalt shook his head, looking at her. “I could really use an empath about now,” he muttered. “Listen, Ahouva. He was abusing you, and the bond – being Kept – was making you accept it. And it looks like maybe some stubbornness on your part, too,” he added in a mutter. Ahouva cringed and didn’t try to contradict him. “But you’re not with him anymore. You’re with me,” he added firmly.

“So…” She tried not to think about Ceinwen crying in the girls’ room. “What do you want me for?”

“Well…” He scooted his chair closer, until his knees were touching hers. “I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/141404.html. You can comment here or there.

In the Audience

Oct5

New flash series! I’m going to write one flash for every Icon I have, over 4 LJ accounts, 1 DW, and a whole bunch of not-currently-in-use, until I get bored or run out of icons.

Today’s icon:

Ceinwen, from Addergoole Year 9

Icon from Meez.com

Directly after Three-Way (LJ)

“Well done,” Thorburn murmured, as they watched Basalt cradling Ahouva in his arms.

“Thank you,” Ceinwen answered, as a rush of unaccustomed pleasure rolled over her. He thought she’d done the right thing! She’d finally done something he liked… even if by accident.

“What prompted you to do that?” he asked, his voice still pitched for her ears only. Jeremiah looked in no shape to negotiate, but he and Basalt were talking nonetheless, the doll-like Lolly watching dispassionately.

“Kendon was going to back out, and then Ahouva would be stuck with him all year. He’s… well, not a nice guy,” Ceinwen whispered. She’d seen Ahouva crying in the locker room, and she’d seen the bruises.

“And Basalt?” he prompted.

She tilted her head at the big guy. “He’s got his rough edges,” she answered carefully. Basalt was, after all, one of Thorburn’s crew. “And he can be really scary. But I heard how he was with Penny, when she went into labor. I think he’ll be nice to her…” she hesitated, looking up at her Keeper, her master, her owner, but he was still smiling, so she risked continuing, “even if it’s like you and I, where it’s not the nice she’d prefer.”

“Aaah.” A heartbeat passed where he said nothing, and then another, and another. Lolly was kneeling between Jeremiah and Basalt, face on Jeremiah’s shoulder. Basalt was walking away, still carrying the limp red-headed Ahouva.

“Come on.” Thorburn scooped Ceinwen up into his arms. “Let’s talk about preferences.”

Rix has expressed interest in more of this part of this story, which would probably be about 1000-word story, maybe 1500 words. If someone else would like to pitch in $5, I will write it as double and write 1000 words on this story.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/139357.html. You can comment here or there.

3-Way Continued

Oct4

This story came out of the late August Giraffe Call and was sponsored for continuation by rix_scaedu. Originally posted here and on LJ.

“This is ridiculous.” Ahouva, pressed between Jovanna and Aeowyn on the lounge couch, shook her head again, staring at the upperclassmen. They had pushed all the furniture to the walls, clearing a wide space in the center of the room, and now Kendon and Jeremiah were talking, quietly and intently, in the middle of the space. To one side, Jeremiah’s creepy little girlfriend, Lolly, bounced up and down like a kid

“It seems kind of romantic to me,” Jovanna sighed.

“It has that façade, doesn’t it?” Aeowyn shook her head. “You’re right, Who, it’s creepy.”

“Kendon and I are fine,” Ahouva continued, too aggrieved to be sidetracked. “There’s nothing wrong with us, and this creep with his creepy girlfriend has to go and get medieval like I’m some sort of possession..”

“Well, technically..”

“Oh, stop that, Aeowyn,” Jovanna snapped. “It’s just as creepy as the upperclassmen when you get into that.”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know, I know,” Ahouva handwaved unhappily. “But do they have to get all medieval?”

“There was that one time…” Jovanna began hesitantly. “At the dance?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” she insisted firmly, rubbing her shoulders. “He had a bit too much to drink, and I was being a bit loud…”

“Well, maybe he’ll win, then,” Aeowyn interrupted pragmatically. “He seems very strong, and the other guy seems kind of like a beanpole.”

“But he wants her enough to challenge for her.”

“For some reason…” She’d seen the look in his eyes. She shook her head. “It’s not romance, Jo. It’s… I don’t know, but it scares me.”

“After Kendon, I wouldn’t think a skinny nerd would scare you.”

She glared at Jo. “He’s not scary. He’s just enthusiastic.”

“Mm…”

“Hush, you two, they’re starting.” Aeowyn leaned forward in her seat as the upperclassmen began formal-sounding proclamations.

“If I lose this challenge, I promise that I will immediately transfer to you my Ownership of the Ninth Cohort Ahouva sh’Ruth,” Kendon said, the words formal but his body posture suggesting he had no fear of losing.

“If I lose,” Jeremiah picked up, just as certain-seeming, “I promise that I will immediately transfer to you my Ownership of the Eight Cohort Liliandra cy’Linden, called Lolly.”

What? Only Kendon’s order kept her in her seat. She glared knives at his back, suddenly wishing his failure. That weird little doll… why would he want her? Why was he risking losing what he already had?

“The terms of the challenge,” Kendon began, to be interrupted by the arrival of another group: Thorburn, with his girlfriend Ceinwen and his cronies, Curry and Basalt.

“We’re just here to witness,” the big man said easily, when Kendon and Jeremiah looked askance at him.

“What are the terms of the challenge?” Basalt asked. As the two explained it – again – Ahouva studied him nervously. She didn’t trust him or his friends; she’d seen them on Hell Night, stomping around like monsters, and she’d seen Ceinwen crying in the girls’ room. They were thugs, straight-out. Why were they interfering.

“Interesting.” Basalt was grinning in a way she definitely didn’t like. “What if I win? Do I get both girls?”

Kendon and Jeremiah started talking at once, shouting, arguing, until little creepy Lolly murmured, “if he challenges you both…”

“Stop helping,” Jeremiah snapped.

The tiny blonde fell silent, as Basalt, pleased, declared, “then I add myself to this challenge, challenging you both for your Kept.”

“And what are you putting up, if you lose?” Kendon snapped, while Ahouva tried to become part of the couch. No, no, not him. Jeremiah would be better…

“Myself,” the big man grinned.

~
Silence fell. “Yourself?” Kendon asked. “You’re putting yourself up as stakes?”

“I am. I’m not as pretty as the girls, I admit, but I think it’s a fair deal.”

They were thinking of backing out, Ahouva could tell, both guys shaking their heads. Maybe she could relax. Maybe she wouldn’t end up belonging to a monster; maybe she could stay with her Kendon. Then, sweetly, over the growing silence, they could hear Ceinwin asking Thornbun a damning question.

“Didn’t you say it was a major loss of honor to turn down a challenge?”

“I did,” Thorburn agreed, “but I’m sure their pride can take the hit. They’re big boys.”

No, damnit, Ceinwen, why? Did you need someone to be miserable with you? Ahouva glared at the girl she’d thought was her friend. Kendon had a temper. Taunted like that, he wasn’t going to be able to say no.

Indeed, he’d just spat out “accepted,” followed quickly by Jeremiah. Ahouva pressed her face against Jovanna’s arm and crossed her fingers, hoping, somehow, Kendon would win. He could do it, couldn’t he? He was so strong… and he wouldn’t have accepted if he didn’t think he stood a good chance. Right?

“Oh, my,” Aeowyn murmured, and then, a moment later, “Wow. Impressive.”

“Eek,” Jovanna added for commentary, and, loudly, “oh, shit!”

“Can anyone survive that, do you think?” Aeowyn pondered out loud.

“Gods, I hope so. I heard murder gets you expelled.” Ahouva cringed, her eyes still closed tightly, wishing her friends would shut up. Were they talking about her Kendon? No, they wouldn’t be that cruel.

“Wow… oh, dear.” Aeowyn’s knees curled up to her chest.

“Ahouva…” Kendon called, and she, finally, looked up. Her master, her boyfriend, was pinned to the ground, a spear of some sort through his shoulder, reaching for her. “Ahouva,” he said again. “He-” Jeremiah’s boot to his mouth shut him up, but she was already out of her seat.

She couldn’t use magic, he’d forbidden her to use it out of class. She picked up a stick, but he’d said she couldn’t attack anyone after she’d bitten one of his friends. She could flash them, maybe… no. “The clothes I put on you stay on you until I tell you they can come off, except during PE.” She couldn’t even do that. She sat down on the floor, tears flowing. He’d ordered her to help. She wanted to help, didn’t want to see him hurt. What could she do?

“Yield,” Jeremiah croaked, falling over next to Kendon. How had she missed that his intestines were spilling out? How could he still have been standing?

“Yield,” Kendon echoed, flopping like a fish on the floor. “You useless piece of shit, Ahouva, I told you to help.”

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to do!”

“Well, you’re someone else’s problem now.” He was coughing up blood. “I release you to Basalt. Ahouva, you Belong to Basalt now. Fuck. Someone call a doctor.”

Her world was reeling. This pitiful asshole on the floor, bleeding all over the carpet, he’d just ripped out what was left of her soul and passed it on to someone else. She felt like she was the one spilling her guts on the floor. She felt as if she was the one dying slowly. She’d failed. She’d failed and he’d given her up. She leaned over and puked, vomiting up what little she’d had to eat for lunch.

“Woah, woah.” A hand was on her back. “Here, puking in open wounds is probably a little extreme even for Kendon.” Even more gently, the deep voice added “you have to say the words, Ahouva; until you do, the promise is still eating at him.”

She looked down at Kendon, her vomit covering his chest. That meant the hand on her back was Basalt, didn’t it? And Kendon had just… “I belong to you now?”

“Yes, yes you do. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” With surprising strength and even more surprising gentleness, he picked her up like a baby. Up close, he smelled faintly of charcoal.

“Why?” she asked, leaning into his arms. What was he going to do with her now?

His shrug moved her like a wave and twisted her already unhappy stomach. “Someone had to. Uh, hold on. I have to take Lolly from Jeremiah and give her back.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/139218.html. You can comment here or there.

Sunday night with worries

Sep28

New flash series! I’m going to write one flash for every Icon I have, over 4 LJ accounts, 1 DW, and a whole bunch of not-currently-in-use, until I get bored or run out of icons.

Today’s icon:

Addergoole, Aelgifu.

Icon & Art by Djinni

Directly after Sunday Night, Content (LJ)

“…As long as you make babies.”

Ayla chewed her lip and stared at her brother. Babies. He was right, she knew; everything she’d talked about with Io and Shahin, even Emrys, had told her that. But…

“It’s okay, beloved,” Io murmured. “This place is top of the line with reproductive technology. There’s no need to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“But I’ll still have to find someone willing to donate the, ah, the necessary.” And handle nine months of pregnancy, twice, but she didn’t want to bring that part up right now. “And Yngvi will need a girl, or two.”

“I doubt you’ll have a problem. The issue is going to be finding someone whose child you want to raise, who doesn’t already have his two.” Ioanna’s lips curled in amusement. “Luckily, cy’Luca are generally too nice for their own good.”

Knowing what Tolly had done, Ayla wasn’t so sure about that, but that was another thing she didn’t want to bring up. Instead, she asked. “Your first…?”

“By Smitty,” Ioanna smiled. “I might like girls a lot, but I like boys, too, on occasion. And Smitty is a nice guy.”

“Oh.” She’d been dressed as a boy when she first met Io, but she’d thought… she didn’t really know what she’d thought, actually. “Smitty?”

“He’s a nice guy,” Io repeated, “with an unfortunate habit of being very much in love with the wrong women. Not me,” she clarified, “although he does seem to love Cecy, our daughter.”

“Cecy.” Ayla smiled faintly. “Could I meet her?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/136709.html. You can comment here or there.

IconFlash – Ayla – Sunday Night content

Sep26

New flash series! I’m going to write one flash for every Icon I have, over 4 LJ accounts, 1 DW, and a whole bunch of not-currently-in-use, until I get bored or run out of icons.

Today’s icon:

Addergoole, Aelgifu.

Icon & Art by Djinni

This takes place in time-line about at Friday’s chapter. For context: Ayla struggles through the first nine books of the story with identity issues, and has recently gone through a Change (as has her half-brother, Yngvi); see Meeks’ sketch).

Ayla snuggled against Ioanna Sunday night, heedless of the occasional over-done glances of disdain Yngvi shot their way. The TV in the lounge was set to a mindless movie, they had a board game they could all enjoy without too much effort, and she had two of her three favorite people with her.

She kissed Io spontaneously, never mind who might be walking by. Her lover – wasn’t that neat? She had a lover, a girlfriend! – responded with a warm smile. “What was that for?”

“Because you’re wonderful, and I love you,” she giggled.

“No more wine for you,” Yngvi teased, moving the already-empty bottle closer to his side of the table.

“Piffle on you.” She kissed her girlfriend – her girlfriend! – again. “This place may be a very strange prison,” she mused, content in the warmth of Ioanna’s arms – A-R-M-S, and a double letter on S, and that also made A-T and A-S, not bad for her second glass of wine, “but it certainly has its benefits.”

“Me, for example?” Io’s lips were warm against the high strangeness of her ear.

“You, for instance,” she agreed. “And finding out I had a big brother. And not being a freak.”

“Not being a freak?” Yngvi fingered his own newly-budded horns dryly. Ayla was un-deterred, and flopped her rabbity ears at him.

“Not being a freak,” she agrees. “Face it, Vi. Nobody here cares if you’re gay, or straight, or purple polka-dotted.”

“Not at all,” he agreed. “As long as you make babies.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/136174.html. You can comment here or there.