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Safe House, a half-story

Mar31

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt.

After The Life You Make (LJ) and Memories (LJ), and directly after Company (LJ)

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

“Aly,” he called, and gestured for the third of his employees to guard the kids. Viatrix didn’t have the kill-the-trouble-now face on, but she did look worried.

“What is it… hunh.” The two women in the doorway tickled half a memory for him. He’d seen their faces before, somewhere, the taller one more than the shorter one.

“Oh, hell no.” The taller one was carrying blades. Four of them. The shorter one was carrying a single rapier. “I heard that this was a safe house. That was a bad joke, right?”

Viatrix looked between the two women, and back to Baram. “He doesn’t remember you,” she explained. “He doesn’t remember much at all longer than a year ago.”

He remembered that look on people’s faces, though. Monster. Creature. Kill it. Not the one that replaced that – anger with no target, loss, confusion. “He doesn’t remember?” She turned to face him directly, still keeping her body between the shorter girl and him. “You don’t remember me? You raped me and you don’t remember me? I have your SON and you don’t remember me?”

“Callie,” the shorter girl murmured, “not on the street, okay?”

He looked the two girls over, and noted the children in the car. “Not on the street. I promise, if you don’t attack me, I will offer you no harm while you’re in my house. Come in.” Raped her. Had he? Monster. Creature. Kill him.

The two visitors shared a look, and then the taller one, Callie, Callie, he almost remembered a Callie, looked at Viatrix. “Does he speak for you?”

“If you don’t harm me or mine, I promise I won’t harm you or yours,” Via shrugged. “He’s my employer, not my Keeper.”

“You stay here of your own free will?” That was the short one this time, staring at Viatrix.

Via wasn’t Jaelie, but she could read a situation, better than Baram could. She stepped out of the way, letting the two women into his cave. “He keeps us and our kids safe. I guess we are a safe house, if you come down to it.”

Safe house. Baram couldn’t help a smile. The monster ran a safe house.

Next: Signal Fire

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/312898.html. You can comment here or there.

Derailed, Part 1, a story of #Addergoole Apoc

Mar30

Addergoole-verse, but not related to the Addergoole stories except in the characters used. No sex, slavery, or mind control involved.

Circa 2012-2014

“Ready?”

“Da.”

“Certainly.”

“Check.”

The train was speeding down the tracks, the same route it took every day, the same tracks that trains had been going down for almost two hundred years. Luke had watched it countless times through the years, but never so intently as he was today.

“On three.” He timed his count to the speed of the train as it barreled closer. “One. Two. Three.” His left hand came down, his wings flared, and all four of them starting muttering Workings at their top speed as the train got closer, closer, “NOW!”

Agmund threw off the last syllable of his Working as the train hit their improvised switch point. Caity yelled off her metal-twist just in time, and she and Yixox hauled the train to the right. Towards them. Directly at Luke and Agmund.

They dove to opposite sides of their new tracks just in time, Luke landing in the ditch they’d dug last night, Agmund’s swearing suggesting he’d ended up likewise damp. On the sides of the mound they’d risen, Caity and Akatil kept Working, cutting off the connection between the tracks, slowly rolling their track up behind the train. There was nowhere for it to go but forward.

That, of course, was only the first step. Luke brought himself to his feet and grabbed Agmund’s hand. He hated carrying passengers. Loathed it. But Agmund couldn’t fly on his own, and he needed the Bear’s firepower. He shifted his grip to the bigger man’s armpits and launched them off the ground with a muttered Working for defying gravity. He’d need more than one of those if they were going to catch the train in time.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/312531.html. You can comment here or there.

Company, a half-story

Mar29

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt; half a story but it was too good an ending point not to cut it there.

After The Life You Make (LJ) and Memories (LJ)

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

Baram was surrounded by children and women, up to his neck in high-pitched voices and drowning of it.

He wanted to go to the car shop. People were still trying to live ordinary lives out there, and they still needed cars fixed. But Jaelie was out for… the calendar said four more days, taking Swish to Addergoole. And there were monsters all around. Real monsters. People who had threatened his home, his vassals, his neighborhood. So here he was, up to his neck in children playing – he was pretty sure – Monsters and Fairies.

If he had to take twenty more minutes of this, Baram was going to start wishing for more monsters. He made his scary-face at a child running by too closely, and scooped it up, swinging it around airplane style. “Rarr, Rarr,” he mock-growled. The kid shrieked and screamed happily, and ran off giggling. Baram scowled more fiercely, hiding a small smile. Kids were fun… in short doses. Not for a week at a time. Not this many kids.

The doorbell rung. He looked up, noticed the kids going into drill mode like they’d been taught, clearing out of the living room, moving back into the kitchen and down into the basement. He caught the smallest three and handed them to the biggest three as Viatrix got the door.

“Boss,” she called uncertainly, “I think this is for you.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/312898.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/311859.html. You can comment here or there.

Pain in the… a story of #Addergoole yr14 for @natalief

Mar27

This is from natalief‘s request here. I confess, I didn’t actually answer any of the questions posed in the prompt, but I sort of laid down some foundation stones.

At first, Arianwen thought it was just another migraine.

Dr. Caitrin hadn’t been able to do much for her, any more than the doctors back home had. She’d frowned, run some tests, run some more tests, and sent Ari back to her room with some aspirin and a note for light PE activity on the bad days.

And this was a bad day. First the shit with Gillian in Lit, and then Januarius had followed her back to her room, making some noise about a dance or something. Like she wanted that noise. Like she wanted the flashing lights and people everywhere, up in her face, jostling her. He might as well have been asking her to dress up for a torture session.

This place didn’t understand the meaning of “introvert;” they didn’t understand the meaning of “spoons,” or what it meant to run out of them, and they seemed to think every problem could be solved with judicious application of beer, or possibly whiskey. Januarius had flat-out offered to cook her up some nice pain pills in his dorm room! His roommate, Azra, had been trying to get Ari to agree to a make-over.

It was enough to make a girl hide in her room and never come out, except when she tried that, Luke or Doug came knocking. Doug had, of all of them, been the most helpful, helping her figure out a program of light exercise that seemed to make the migraines last less long and come less often, and helping her come up with work-arounds for the dizziness and nausea. He seemed to have a lot of practice dealing with her symptoms, but he was even more close-mouthed than normal when she asked him why.

Just another oddity in this very odd school. And now this headache, this stabbing through her temples, the pressure in her sinuses, the nausea and spots in her vision. The spots that were dancing in some sort of pattern. That was new. Should she call the doctor? No, of course not, there was no phone.

If she passed out… the thought terrified her. She could hit her head. She could not wake up. They wouldn’t come in her room; it could be Monday before anyone noticed she was missing. By then…

She opened the door. If anyone messed with her, she’d mace them.

Januarius was standing outside her door, hand raised to knock. He frowned at her, suddenly looking worried. “Ari, we’re got to get you to the doctor.”

“Yes, please,” she gasped. The lights out here were horrid, causing stabbing pain right above her nose. She closed her eyes to rub them, and
v
e
r
y
s
l
o
w
l
y
f
e
l
l.

Every clock-tick seemed to last an eternity. Every heartbeat was at least a week apart. She could see the spaces between the seconds, for a brief flash of clarity. Then there was nothing but endless pain.

“I’ve got you,” Januarius whispered, and, blessedly, horribly, terrifyingly, she passed out.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/309947.html. You can comment here or there.

Presently, a story of #Addergoole Yr9 for the (February) Giraffe Call (@Rix_scaedu)

Mar27

For [profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt – more of “Birthday Present,” from the December Giraffe Call.

Addergoole has a landing page here

Noam has a sketch here.

He didn’t have any orders! There was nothing holding him from saying anything he wanted! Noam opened his mouth to tell Brenna exactly what he thought of “fun.”

Except, of course, as far as he knew, there wasn’t any way out of Belonging to someone except having them let you go. He closed his mouth again. Pissing her off was probably not what he wanted to do. He tugged at the ribbons a little more, though, just on principle.

Brenna’s face fell. “You don’t want to be here.”

Shit. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re trying to get away.”

“I’m trying to get untied. Trying to get away would involve more backing towards the door and fumbling with the doorknob.” He gave her his best smile. “I’m not going to lie to you, this wasn’t my idea. Hera caught me in the halls. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think dating you would be a good idea.” Dating, please. Noam was pretty sure he could handle dating.

She touched his pectoral lightly, as if worried it would burn her. When it didn’t light on fire, she set her hand, palm-down, across his chest. “You never said anything.”

“Neither did you. I figured you weren’t interested.”

“Oh.” She looked down at their toes. At her Masked toes, he noted, even here in her bedroom, and his still in shoes. “Oh.”

He kept smiling at her. Smiling seemed good. Her touch seemed very good. “You know, if you let me go, we could date. I’d like that a lot.”

She frowned. “You’re just saying that so I’ll let you go.”

“Well, I’m hoping you’ll let me go, yeah, but I would like dating you, too.” Gods, please?

She bit her lip and shook her head. She hadn’t Masked her teeth. They were very very sharp. “Nobody stays around me long if they have a choice.”

She wasn’t going to let him go, was she? He might as well make the best of it. Noam smiled for her, hoping it wasn’t too fake-looking (Again. He was going to have to spend XP on charisma and bluffing). “Well, I’m yours.”

“You are,” she agreed. “For a while, at least. It’s not forever.”

“Well, if I had to be Owned by someone…” which he’d been doing such a good job of avoiding, thank you, “I’m glad it was you.” He gave the ribbon around his wrists a little tug. He could probably undo it now. Maybe he should wait and let her untie it instead. “What do you think about it?”

“I think…” She looked him over hesitantly, sidelong, uncertainly. “I think you’re mine?”

“Okay.” It was a starting point, at least. “And what do you want to do with me?”

She tugged on the ribbon around his neck. “Unwrap you…” Her shy look up at him was heart-rending. “If that’s okay?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/309630.html. You can comment here or there.

Ciara: Pet Wolf

Mar26

After Wolf in Hand (LJ)

Ciara had been asleep in the infirmary for a few hours when a noise
woke her. The doctor had been able to put her back together “good as
new,” but suggested firmly that an overnight stay would be good for
her, “just in case.” Ciara had agreed – there was really no point in
trying to argue with Dr. Caitrin anyway, certainly not with Luke
hovering over her – and had succumbed, once again, to unconsciousness.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke’s voice was quiet in the dark of the
mid-night clinic.

“She told me I could.” Amadeus was trying to keep his voice down, but
he had less practice than Luke. “Here, on page two.”

“She did,” Luke confirmed, a moment later. “But that doesn’t explain
why you’re here.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she heard her new Kept say, rather unwillingly, “I want to see if she’s okay.”

“You broke her leg, her wrist, and at least five of her ribs, as well as puncturing a couple of her internal organs. I wouldn’t say she’s okay.”

“She challenged me!” he flared, and then, quieter, “Dr. Caitrin fixed her, right?”

“She did,” Luke murmured. “Amadeus…” his voice dropped down lower than Ciara could hear.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.” From the sounds of it, Luke was pleased with himself. “You can see her now.”

Ciara kept her eyes closed and her breathing even as Amadeus walked in, although she couldn’t keep her heart from pounding a bit. What had her orders said about this? Shit, did she want him this close to her?

Little late for that, she told herself sternly, as his hand rested on her arm. “Ciara?” he whispered loudly. Then, when she “didn’t wake,” “Damnit, Ciara.”

She opened her eyes, glad it didn’t hurt to so, and stared at him. He stared back at her, angry. “You’re fine, right?”

She couldn’t help a little smile. “You’re all packed up?”

“Couldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Damnit, those orders…!”

Her smile was growing a bit. Irritating him didn’t seem wise, but, then again, he was hers now. “I didn’t expect you to be happy if I won. It seemed safer to be thorough.”

“If.” He was only getting angrier. “Are you telling me you weren’t sure? Why would you risk everything like that?”

“Why did you?”

He grumbled incoherently for a moment. “I didn’t think I could lose.”

“I was betting on that,” she admitted. Quieter, she added, “I’m told that Kept are happier if there’s physical contact.”

He leered, but his heart wasn’t in it. “This is what it takes to get into your bed?”

“Yes.” The bed was narrow, but wide enough. She scooted to one side, and patted the space next to her. “I didn’t want to be your pet, Amadeus.”

“So you arranged things so I’d be yours.” He sat down on the bed gingerly.

“Well.” She took his hand in her own. “From what I’m told, there’s some negotiation as to the exact role a Kept plays.”

“Meaning what?” He didn’t snatch his hand away, but his shoulders were still stiff and angry.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/308543.html. You can comment here or there.

Trying, A story of #Addergoole Yr8 for the Feburary Giraffe Call

Mar25

After So I’ve Started Out (LJ) and Porter Needs a Girlfriend (LJ), to Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt.

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ.

She’d walked away the first time he’d brought it up. “The Bond takes away your choice,” she’d said.

“So does not asking me,” he’d retorted. She’d shook her head angrily, making him want to grovel and apologize, but all she’d said, maddeningly, was the same thing she always did:

“You do not understand.”

“Explain it to me,” he complained, but only after she’d shut the door behind her.

When he tried again, he went at it sideways, talking about Porter first. Porter did, after all, need a girlfriend. But, then again, so did Arundel.

“Would you like to have a boyfriend,” he asked her, “me, I mean?”

She’d been surprised, which wasn’t really a good plan – she hated, he already knew, being surprised. She pursed her lips, and he ignored his sudden urge to apologize. “Would you ask that, if I didn’t Own you? Answer me honestly.”

“I would have asked sooner, if you didn’t Own me. Like, the day I fell through your ceiling… okay, maybe not then, but pretty soon after then.”

“In truth?” Darnit, he’d surprised her again.

“You ordered me to be honest,” he pointed out, beginning to get frustrated. He couldn’t win with her. “I want to be your boyfriend. I want to kiss you. I want you to believe me when I talk to you.”

She stared off at the wall, frowning. “That could be the Bond,” she pointed out. “It makes you want physical contact, even if you wouldn’t, otherwise.”

She was going to talk herself out of it. Again. And leave him frustrated and her cranky. Arundel flared his wings, wanting to shout. Shouting was a bad idea. Shouting would only make her more angry.

“So if it’s the Bond,” he said slowly, “then you’re worried I will regret it afterwards?”

“Exactly. You’re acting under the influence. You’re not thinking clearly, cannot think clearly when the Bond is pushing at you.”

“And you’re worried that a Bond-induced need for physical contact is making me want to kiss you.”

She lifted her shoulders and dropped them again in discomfort. “The thought did occur to me, yet. I am not, normally, dating material.”

“The people that let you think that are lying to you,” he flared. “Or you’re lying to yourself.”

“I have never had a boyfriend who wasn’t… I have never had a boyfriend.”

“Well, maybe you should try?” he tried, one last time. “Look, if you’re worried it’s the touch thing, how about an experiment?”

“An experiment?” He had her attention, good.

“Figure out what you think is a Bond-satisfying amount of touch, and give me that for a week. No dating, no kissing, nothing like that. Just touch. If I still want to date you after a week…”

She was nodding. Good, nodding was a good thing. “If you still want to date me after a week of regular touch, then we can assume it’s a genuine want.” She graced him with a small smile and took both his hands in hers. “That’s a clever idea, Arundel.”

His heart soared like he was flying. “I try,” he answered in complete honesty.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/306678.html. You can comment here or there.

Shit, Fan, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the February Giraffe Call

Mar23

For Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt, second half of the story, after Up Shit Creek (LJ) and Shit Keeps Coming (LJ)

Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

The redheaded stripper launched herself at him from the stage. This was… not what Pyry was expecting. Sure, he was a generous tipper, and always tried to be a gentleman, but…

“Eee, you’re adorable. Bo Duke, what did you DO to yourself?” She straddled his lap, putting his face directly between her lamé-clad breasts, and stroked his horn.

His. Horn.

He didn’t whip his head up, because he didn’t want to poke her in anything important or expensive, but he did, slowly, look up into her face. It was a long way and a lot of freckles up to her stunning green eyes, but he made the voyage heroically. “Desirée?” he managed.

“Des, get back on stage,” the manager hollered.

“Oh, come on, Ted, there’s three people in the bar and one of them’s asleep. Besides, Bo paid me for the lap dance, didn’t you, Bo,” she grinned.

“Of course I did, Des.” He tucked the folded fifty in the side of her g-string. “Des, I thought…”

“Oh, yes,” she grinned at him. “We were talking about what you did to yourself. I didn’t know you were fae, you lovely man. What made you decide to some in with your Mask dropped after all this time?”

“I, uh.” Pyry squirmed. “Just Changed.”

“Just.” She pursed her lips. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Yeah…?” He had a sinking feeling he’d suddenly lost his favorite dancer. He suppressed the urge to slide another fifty in her g-string, and, instead, asked merely, “you like it?”

“It’s lovely.” She petted his horn gently. “It feels good, like getting a shower.”

“It should,” he admitted dryly. “It can turn anything cleaner.”

“That’s a pretty impressive power, Bo.” She kissed the base of his horn and wiggled pointedly on his lap. “Do you have a Mentor and all that?”

“Uh…” He squirmed more. “My mother’s looking for someone.”

“Hunh.” She pressed his face into her chest as she made thinking noises. “I know someone. I know a couple someones. Who’s your mother?”

“Argh,” he complained against the freckled curves. “I’m not eight.”

“No,” she laughed, “you’re not. But there’s a way these things go, and, well, I don’t think you want me as your Mentor.”

“You?” he coughed. “I… don’t think I’d be able to focus on my studies.”

“Oh, nonsense, you…” whatever she was going to say was drowned out by the slamming of doors as three… trolls, they had to be trolls, Pyry hadn’t know such people really existed… stomped into the bar. “Shit, Nedetakaei. Stay behind me, Bo.”

“Oh, not from you, too,” he grumbled. “I’m. Not. A. Kid.” The tall stripper was already off of her barstool, though, and chanting under her breath.

“Fine, then, try not to get killed.” She tossed him a short wooden sword as it appeared in her hand, and… jumped. Landing upside-down on the ceiling.

“Nice.” He didn’t have time to appreciated it more than that, though; the trolls were going straight for him.

“Horn,” the blue one laughed. “That’ll be fun. Come on, pretty boy, you can be our new pet if you’re good.”

Pyry felt a smile stretching his lips. He was finally going to get to fight monsters! “Maybe I can take you home for my sister to play with,” he quipped… and the fight was on.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/305775.html. You can comment here or there.

Shit Keeps Coming, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the February Giraffe Call

Mar22

For Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt, half of the story, after Up Shit Creek (LJ)

Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

Pyry found being their mother’s fair-haired boy – literally; all his hair had turned from sandy to golden-blonde when he Changed – nearly as uncomfortable as he’d found being the family’s whipping boy, and twice as strange.

His newfound power was, at the very least, a mixed blessing: he could turn any sort of used or rotten food back into fresh food, but that meant he spent a lot of time around shit, and his mother was suddenly bringing back the concept of the outhouse.

The human members of the family hadn’t been too happy with being guinea pigs for his new power, testing the food he horned, but they’d done it (what choice did they have? No more than he did), and it appeared that what he poked was, indeed, nutritious and healthful, and fine to eat, as long as you didn’t think about where it had been an hour ago. Pyry wasn’t entirely sure that it ought to work but so far, it seemed like it was.

Worse than spending even more time around shit, worse than the weird way the family was treating him, was his mother’s sudden insistence on finding him both a Mentor (which he was a bit old for) and, as if it was an immediate need now-now-now, a mate.

Yet even worse – if there could be an even worse, and there seemed to be a never-ending list of them – was that his mother, Svad, and Abasta still refused to let him go monster-hunting with the family. Indeed, despite his age, they seemed determined to treat him like some newly-fledged change-child. It was maddening, humiliating, and just about unbearable.

The advantage was, if there was one, that until they got him a Mentor, they didn’t know what to do with him, and the family, large as it was, only made so much manure. Pyry slipped out of the house between bouts of horn-poking, determined that he was going to do something, anything, other than sit around turning shit into apples.

He made it into the city with no problems. Of course, he’d driven into the city a thousand times before with no issue, but considering the way the family was reacting, they expected him to get abducted, murdered, and then raped every time he left the property. For his horn. Which nine-tenths of the population couldn’t see and would never be able to.

He had some money in his pocket, the family credit card in his wallet, and a chip on his shoulder when he reached the city. He parked the truck near his favorite bar, the one with the redheaded dancer on Wednesday nights, wished he had a hat that covered the horn on his forehead, and headed in for a few drinks.

As with his whole life these days, the moment he relaxed, everything went to feces in a bucket.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/305128.html. You can comment here or there.

A sequential vignette of Addergoole, Year 9

Mar22

To Friendly Anon’s prompt; a continuation of this vignette (LJ)

“So,” Porter asked, hat in hand and clearly uncomfortable, “are you going to help?”

“That’s a silly question,” Sylvia informed him. She stood up and turned the TV off. “Arundel is in my crew. Of course I’m going to help. Besides,” she added, as she would to no one save Porter, “I like him. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Porter grinned at her, giving her the impression he’d just wanted to hear her say that. “I like him too. So, what’s the plan?”

“First, we determine the situation. Then, we determine the possible outcomes. Then we determine a course of action.”

Porter nodded. “Practical.” As he held open the door for her, he added, “You’re always practical, Sylvia.”

She nodded brusquely, not sure if it was intended as a compliment, but certain it was accurate to his perception of her. It was, after all, a perception she’d cultivated.

“Let’s go get Arundel out of trouble.” She smiled, or did a little mouth-grimace that people could interpret as a smile if they tried (She didn’t like full smiles, never had, less so with her new teeth), and headed out into the world, or at least into the halls of Addergoole.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/304696.html. You can comment here or there.