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Post Apoc 101 – Second Lesson

To [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

After Post-Apoc Studies 101, which is after story-didn’t-work-bit. Set in the Fae Apoc ‘verse, just after/during the apoc.


Potential energy

The pebble, tipped over the edge of the building by Tomas, tumbled down a long ways. They’d climbed – sometimes on the stairs, sometimes making up their own path – quite a ways to get up here, using gifts and tricks that Armona barely understood on the hardest parts.

She listened for its eventual smash against the pavement below, tiny as it was. “I’ve got height.” She looked down, for a moment, at the empty wreck of a street below. “You’re saying my lack of having stuff, right now, is a potential to have stuff?”

“You have energy. Your food-like thing.”

“Just done.” She pulled it off the fire and tested it with two peeled twigs. “Want some?”

“I ate, thank you. You have energy, and want. Want is a very strong force.”

“Strong enough to make things happen?”

“Well, what is it that you, ah, want to happen?”

“I want food, and shelter. A door between me and the rest of the world.” She ate a few bites of pork and beans. “Real food, not just cans. And a real roof. One that doesn’t leak.”

“But not deer you bring down yourself?”

“Mayyyybe. Still working on that one. And I want to not have to be pushed around.”

“And there we get to the crux of it. Who don’t you want pushing you around? Me? Your parents?”

“Anyone!” She thought about that. “Strangers, mostly. Guys. People who think they own the place. Jackasses.”

“And would you rather push them around?”

It was a very good question. It took Armona a moment to answer. “Yes.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/542328.html. You can comment here or there.

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.

Deaths in the Faerie Apocalypse, Part III

A discussion in several parts of the near-extinction of humanity in my Faerie Apocalypse Setting.
The Gods’ Return: here
The Terms Used: here
.

The returned gods killed a large number of people by direct or indirect smiting; in the process of claiming the cities, they killed an exponentially larger number with collateral damage.

When those Ellehemaei who had been here on Earth all along (or been born on Earth since the gods departed) got in on the act, fighting back against the returned gods, the collateral damage only got worse.

This is important, because what the humans tended to see was simply two freaks of nature tearing down buildings in their fight (flooding rivers, changing the course of storms, lighting city blocks on fire, and so on). They had – history, at least, had – no patience for divisions of “protecting humanity” vs. “enslaving humanity,” because all of these creatures were causing damage in their fighting.

The U.S. National Guard* had begun to mobilize as the first major damage occurred, but it was not until months later, when Los Angeles fell entirely under the sway of The Green Man, that Congress declared war on the invading army of gods.

At this point, the collateral damage numbers skyrocketed once again. War is a messy thing; war on your home territory is a horrible thing. Soldiers were sent unprepared into battle against gods (and there was only so well they could be prepared, even with advisers who knew what the Ellehemaei were and how to fight them); they died by the hundreds, and then by the thousands.

Then some genius discovered that you could kill an Ellehemaei if you dropped a big enough bomb on its head.

* Now with asterisk! – I am familiar enough with the U.S. response to be able to hazard a guess what they would do; I am far less familiar with the threat/disaster response in other countries. If those with familiarity there would like to lend a hand, I’d be appreciative.

Part IV – http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/546168.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/540099.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.

Deaths in the Faerie Apocalypse, a second side note

After this last Side Note

Terminology

I’ve been throwing around terms in this discussion, so I thought I’d pause to define some of them.

“Ellehemaei” are the race of people from Ellehem; this includes any cross-breeding with humanity that shows any traits of the Ellehemaei (inhuman traits, psychic abilities, magic, etc.) Singular: Ellehema

“Gods,” in general, refers to old, old Ellehemaei.

The Departed (Returned) Gods are those old Ellehemaei who left – or were sent away – and were thus trapped in Ellehem for millennia.

Oh, yeah, Ellehem. It’s another world, another universe, another planet – what, exactly, is unclear. It exists such that portals can be opened between its existence and ours.

Gods Above All is a term I threw out to describe Really Really Powerful gods. These guys are the ones that crossed over the last time the portals were opened, who got called things like Zeus and Hera, and who bred with a whole bunch of humans to create the gods and the Ellehemaei as a whole.

And Faded are humans who have the blood of the Ellehemaei in their veins but little or no visible sign of that blood.

Not mentioned yet in this series of stories but pertinent:

The breeds of Ellehemaei on Earth at time just before the Fae Apoc are Daeva, Mara, and Grigori (those who, respectively, inspire, protect, and guide) and their Nedetakaei (“bad guy”) counterparts the Dragons, Hunters, and Shepherds. There are also – as most of the students in Addergoole – any number of “half-breeds,” where the blood of the Ellehemaei in their veins was mixed enough that they displayed a different change than those three breeds.

“Half-breed” or “half-blood” is insulting, but also used rather casually in fae society.

Part III: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/540099.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/536825.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.

Welcome, a continuation of FaeApoc/Addergoole (@kissofjudas)

After Decision, after ID.

Ora watched the decision flow over Silas’ face and body, his fangs vanishing, his smile coming back. There wasn’t that much to watch, but after this many years, she knew her mate well enough to see the shift.

A blind man could have seen the possessiveness as he welcomed her former Kept into their house. Ora didn’t mind. Silas had a right to be possessive when someone was challenging his right to their family.

She looked Adder up and down as he entered their property. The boy looked thin, wan, grubby. Worn down. “You said the world was falling to hell.” She would never have the arch skill with language that Silas and his late family did, but she could put make herself sound calmer and more innocent than she was. “What about yourself?”

~

Adder tried not to look as relieved as he was when Ora’s… what, husband? Keeper? Nobody was wearing a collar… when the man calling his son son invited him in. Act calm. He didn’t mean them any harm. He wasn’t sure he could do them any harm.

Ora’s question threw him right off his calm. “What?”

“Falling to Hell?” She was laughing at him. Damnit. She’d always found him funny. Adder swallowed and reminded himself that funny was better than a threat and a lot better than useless right now. He wanted her to remember she liked him.

He twisted his lips in an aping of a smile. “Oh, well, you know. I’m surviving.”

“Just surviving?” It was the first thing Hunter-Hale had said in a while, and Adder found it stung how disappointed his son sounded.

~

“I do all right for myself.” The boy who said he’d given Hunter-Hale his name shrugged. Hunter didn’t know what to think about him. He looked like a refugee, like one of the lost ones that wandered through sometimes, like a drowned rat just looking for a hole.

Hunter stopped in his tracks and stared at the man for a moment.

“Dad wasn’t kidding. You really are a charity case, aren’t you?”

The man flinched. He couldn’t quite meet Hunter’s eyes, either. “Those were your father’s words.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not true.”

“No… I suppose it doesn’t.” Mom and Dad had stopped a few yards away. Adder looked over at them, and then back at Hunter-Hale. He shrugged again, looking young and lost. “Yeah. Some people didn’t end up as lucky as others.”

Mom’s voice carried, and she was back in Queen mode. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/535101.html. You can comment here or there.