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The Facility, a story of Doomsday Academy, available on Patreon for patrons

The Facility

“Almost… almost.”

Milana should not have been their entry specialist. Helji talked to machines. Signy broke things. But Milana had delicate, clever fingers, Helji was busy figuring out the archaic and terrifying building system, and Signy had both hands full of guards, rather literally.

So Milana was here, crouched in front of a nice door lock that seemed to be purely mechanical, muttering quiet Workings at it…

(read on…: Available to all patrons.

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1091066.html. You can comment here or there.

Aging in Cloverleaf, a story of…well, of Cloverleaf… now available for Patreon patrons~

Aging in Cloverleaf

Fiana was getting old, and Edgar was not…

Years after they helped to build Cloverleaf, a plumber and his wife discuss their choice.

Now available on Patreon to all patrons!

Pledge just $1 a month to gain access to all these stories; pledge $5 or more a month to prompt these tales.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1086715.html. You can comment here or there.

Pick-up lines, a ficlet of Cya/Doomsday

When Cya went to one of the downtown bars with Leo, she knew that she could expect a certain amount of flirtation in varying degrees of heavy-handedness. Today was no different – some smooth pick-up lines and some sad, some who wanted to sleep with power and some who thought she looked cute, some who thought Leo looked cute and some who thought they were dangerous in an interesting way.

And then one drunken guy told her he could help her out. “I’m good friends with the Mayor, you know. If you need a job, I can help you.”

She looked him over for a minute while the gathered crowd around them fell silent. He was earnest and pleased with himself – and she’d never met him before.

“Would someone please tell him?” She raised her voice so it carried.

One of the off-duty city guards, sounding as if he was trying not to laugh, cleared his throat. “What would you like us to tell him, Madam Mayor?”

The man frowned, but he clearly hadn’t gotten it yet. Cya sighed. “Well, my name would be a good start.”

“Well, I hear,” Apollo offered, “that the bandits to the west call you the Red Death.”

Actually, they called her the Red-handed wielder of the Lightning Death, but since neither she nor Leo actually killed anyone, she supposed that was a moot point.

“Up north, they call you the Savior of Adamtown,” a guard offered. Cya winced. That had been a bad one – but she had, technically, saved Adamtown.

“In school,” offered a third, who had been a student of Doomsday until just a year ago, “mostly they call you Prince Red.”

That one, she hadn’t known. And now her would-be suitor was beginning to get the point. He was turning pale. “Madame Mayor?” He glared at her. “No, you’re way too young. The mayor’s been here for fifty years!”

“The mayor is fae, you idiot.” The bartender looked far from impressed. “And you’re bothering her.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” he whined.

“Easy,” Cya offered. “Don’t claim friendships you don’t have. Promise that, and we won’t have a problem.”

“I.. I promise,” he stammered. From the way the air didn’t twist and the way he was willing to make a promise that quickly, Cya could tell he wasn’t fae. It didn’t matter. She smiled so all her sharp mink teeth showed.

“Good boy. Now go leave the Mayor alone. I want to flirt with someone less unwise.”

AS he hurried off, she began to wonder if it was time for a new city.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1081439.html. You can comment here or there.

Job Interview: a tiny-fic of the Apiary

(The Apiary is – or will be – the companion university and surrounding town to Cloverleaf and Doomsday Academy)

The chair was singularly uncomfortable. Augustinus did his best not to shift and squirm.

The woman in front of him was lush, far too lush, and something about her scent just made her beauty even more uncomfortable. And she was smiling at him with a wide grin that looked a little too predatory.

She glanced down at her notes. “Now,” she purred, “why don’t you tell me about your experience with chemistry?”

Augustinus cleared his throat, not for the first time, and tried not to make an absolute fool of himself.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1078210.html. You can comment here or there.

Second Thoughts, Third Thoughts – A Patreon Story

A story of going-to-Doomsday-Academy

“Here we are.” Adelaide looked at her three children, then looked back at the gate in front of them. She stole another glance at her kids and sighed.

Ameera had gone to Addergoole two years ago. This would be her third year there, and she looked both worried and eager. Lorccán was going this year. He looked eager. He didn’t really know what he was getting into.

But first, they were going to Doomsday. She wasn’t sure if she was going to tell Addergoole about her third child – and Doomsday started years earlier than Addergoole, anyway. Continue reading

Soft Target, a drabble of Cloverleaf

When the boss told him Cloverleaf was a soft target, Coty should’ve known better.

When the boss said the walls would come down easy with this new earth-caster, Cody really should’ve known better.

When the boss said that the guards at Cloverleaf were glorified paper-checkers and errand-runners and there was no military to speak of, Coty should’ve walked away, whatever the contract said.

When the boss screamed onward instead of retreat, Coty should’ve grabbed the boss and ran.

When the woman asked Coty if he wanted a ten-year jail sentence or a five-year collar…

Maybe he should’ve picked jail time.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1074251.html. You can comment here or there.

Building The Apiary, a ficlet of Cya/Doomsday

This time, she didn’t do it by herself.

When she’d built Cloverleaf, she hadn’t been alone, not all the time. Her daughter Mai had “helped”, but Mai had been five years old, and there was only so much help even the most enthusiastic five-year-old could be. She’d brought in specialists, she’d called in favors, and she’d had company.

This time, she started by having cy’Underground survey and archive the area, pulling out anything that might possibly be of use to future generations and documenting the rest. She called in a team of people to break down the remaining bits of buildings, and another team to sort all of the bits into usable pieces.

She levelled the ground and raised the hill herself.

“The Apiary”, Leo had said, and a beehive it would be. But this was Cloverleaf’s project, not Doomsday’s, and that meant she wasn’t working alone.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1051605.html. You can comment here or there.

Cloverleaf Character Study: Tijana the knitter

When Tijana Sheffield had been twenty-five, a redheaded woman had walked into her town and walked directly up to Tijana.

She’d been talking to the whole small marketplace, but her eyes never left Tijana in her little knit-goods booth. “Cloverleaf needs craftspeople. It needs farmers. It needs workers. And in return, it has running water, electricity, and tall walls. It has security, and room to grow and change.”

Most of the tiny town of Warm River didn’t want room to grow or to change. They liked their nice, secure place with few bandits and no fairies.

Tijana had left, and Amos the baker’s son. They’d been scolded, fussed at, complained at, and warned, but both of them knew it was better if they left. A town and tight and small as Warm River, strangeness wasn’t wanted or needed. It was better for everyone if they left.

Now Tijana was thirty-five, married, with three children and a thriving business. She’d married an inventor (or, as he called himself, a re-inventor) who had a knack for reading old stories and figuring out a way to duplicate what the ancients had had before the war, for taking old mechanisms and making them go again.

And she’d gone from a small business knitting for Warm River to a thriving shop. The red-haired woman, the Mayor of Cloverleaf, liked sweaters, and thus much of Cloverleaf liked sweaters. She had two apprentices working the knitting machines that her husband had rigged up, and she kept her own hands busy with increasingly complicated patterns on the hems, necklines, and cuffs. She was growing, improving. And you couldn’t walk down Main Street without seeing a couple of her sweaters and a couple more copies.

And now the Mayor wanted to buy two of her sweaters. Tijana picked up her wool and started knitting. She had a couple new ideas, and if anyone would appreciate the innovation, it was going to be the Mayor.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1047002.html. You can comment here or there.

Angelic Visitation

This comes after The Storm Prince of Death and @inspectrCaracal’s response here. It is set in the Fae Apoc, at least 60 years after the 2011 apocalypse.  Yoshi is the son of Cynara, often mentioned.  

Yoshi loved his parents, he really did, but sometimes he just needed to get out into the world and get away from them. The same was true of Dáirine, with whom he had a strange sort of on-again, on-again relationship that neither of them quite understood.

To get away, he’d taken to wandering the world — a family trait, it seemed. There was a lot of world out there to see; Yoshi had a feeling that he could travel for a century and not see half of it. But he made a point of checking in every year or so. There was nothing more embarrassing than having your mother appear out of nowhere because you hadn’t remembered to visit.

It was on the way back “home” — to Cloverleaf, which had never been home but was the place his family lived — that Yoshi encountered the little village. It was friendly to a passing stranger, something not all towns would do in this rough age, but their friendliness had a cautious edge to it. Continue reading