Archives

Behind Door Number Three

Jan24

To Anonymous’ commissioned prompt, a continuation of this story (and on LJ).

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ.

Porter stared at the strange girl who had so tidily taken control of their lives – Arundel’s more than his, certainly, but still. Then it hit him. “Right. Come on, Arun.” He dropped to his knees and got a shoulder under his friend’s arm. “Stand up, that’s it.”

“Ow,” Arundel complained weakly.

“Yeah, I know. Those look like they’re gonna hurt worse than a tail and my ears did. But you gotta stand up.”

“Stand up,” Sylvia echoed, and with a muffled whimper, Arundel made it to his feet. “That’s better.” She slid herself under his other arm. “Porter and I will get you there. I’ll take care of you.” She opened her door and they edged, carefully, through it. “Do you know any combat magic, tiger?”

“Um. I can aba… destroy stuff, but that’s about it. We’ve only barely begun to learn anything useful.”

“Pity. Well. Look fierce if anyone tries to stop us, then, how about that?”

Her tone made Porter bristle, even as he helped Arundel down the hall as gently as he could. “Who do you think you are, to boss me around like this?”

“Well,” she answered, maddeningly calmly, “I believe I’m the person who just Kept your friend. And while you’re under no obligation to do as I say, of course, he is, and, furthermore, I am only taking charge to keep you and he – and myself – safe, so it’s safe to believe that my ‘bossing’ is in your best interest.”

“Seems to me,” he grumbled, “that the only person I can trust to act in my best interests around here is myself. Come on, man, it’s not that much further.”

“Yourself, and your crew,” she agreed placidly. “Which, you may have noticed, we agreed to be.”

“Mmm,” he muttered, focusing on Arundel’s pained footsteps. “So you get a Kept out of this. I get to keep hanging out with my friend. Arundel gets…”

“A benevolent Keeper, the continued companionship of his friend, and my assurance that I’ll do my best to keep you, in turn, from being Kept. I also get your protection, once the two of you learn to fight. In other words, we become a small consortium of watching each others’ backs.” She smiled, a small, tight thing, as they reached Dr. Caitrin’s office. “If we end up liking each other, that will be a pleasant bonus. You two seem like people I might be able to like, and there have been precious few of those so far in Addergoole.”

“I could like you,” Arundel muttered. He was twisting in their arms, trying to arch his back. “But that could be the Keeping thingy.”

“Probably,” she agreed, the smile barely shifting. “I’m told I’m not, generally, all that likable.”

“That’s sad,” he frowned. “Porter will like you, too, won’t you, Port?”

Porter, sighing, forced himself to calm down, the fur on his neck and tail slowly settling. “If you want me to like her, buddy, I will. What are friends for, anyway?”

He met Sylvia’s gaze as they maneuvered his semi-delirious friend into the exam room. From the look in her eyes, she knew as well as he did that it would be a longer process than that. But they would both make the effort. That was, as he’d said, what crew was for.

~

It seemed she had a very specific, very close interpretation of “crew,” which Porter couldn’t really object to. Arundel was hardly standing again, swaying a bit with the effects of the little blue pills, when Sylvia dragged them to the Director’s secretary’s office.

“We need a three-room suite. I know one’s opened up recently.”

The woman looked over her glasses at Sylvia, clearly less impressed with her preemptory manner than Porter and Arundel were. “You do, hrrm? Didn’t I hear that Arundel was now oro’Sylvia?”

“Well, yes,” she answered easily, “but that doesn’t mean that we don’t need a three-room suite.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Will I need to schedule an appointment with Dr. Mendosa?” she asked quietly, but with clear, if entirely vague, threat.

“I believe we’ll be just fine. But a three-bedroom suite will give us all a little more breathing room, and that would be a very good thing,” Sylvia said very precisely.

The woman frowned, but nodded. “Very well. Since Professor Pelletier had suggested we hold this suite, I’m going to assume this is why. You can move in today.”

“Just like that?” Porter couldn’t help but ask. Why Professor Pelletier?

“When the psychic deems something,” Sylvia murmurs, “this Administration listens. It’s one of the advantages of this school.”

Porter, who had heard plenty of the disadvantages, listened with curiosity. “So. Arundel’s moving in with you, and you want me to move in with you, too?” The three-bedrooms thing was, he had to admit, strange, at least from what he’d heard.

“You want to spend time with your friend, don’t you? And we’re crew now, aren’t we?”

He had a feeling he was going to hear that argument a lot. “All right,” he muttered. He wasn’t all that attached to his room, anyway.

Later, with all their things carted into the suite and generally distributed between the three rooms, Sylvia declared that, now that they had a kitchen, she was going to do some real shopping.

“Stay in the suite,” she ordered Arundel, after having taken a close look at his eyes. “I shouldn’t be more than hour; if I’m longer than that, you may come looking for me.”

He mumbled something uncomfortable, and waited until she left to flop face-first onto the couch. “Shit.”

Porter flopped down in the armchair. “It could be worse?” he offered. “I mean, you have wings.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty awesome,” he admitted, twisting to look at the feathers, which coordinated with his hair nicely. “But … Sylvia.”

“Well, you said yes?” Porter pointed out, mostly to avoid the stab of guilt he felt. “I’m sorry about the doorway thing, man.”

“The porthole? I figured that was you. Though the rest was a bit of a surprise.”

“She promised she’d be good to you.” For some definition of “good,” he supposed. “Why did you say yes?”

“I wasn’t paying attention!” he shouted, and then put both hands over his head. “Ow. It’s like she planned this all out. And that’s impossible.”

“Well, think about what she said about psychics?” He wasn’t sure that was right, but it was an option. “Maybe she really did plan it out.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/242420.html. You can comment here or there.

Parting Advice, and Mother Bears, a story of Boom!Post-Apoc for @Inventrix

Jan22

After Separation Anxiety (LJ), in the Boom! roleplay timeline.

They’d managed benign small talk while they packed, and while they drove, Viddie and Ankara pestering each other in the back seat while Cya and Yoshi tried to pretend there was nothing to be uncomfortable about. They were nearly at the school’s wards when she managed to say anything at all.

“There’s things…”

“I know, Mom. Every adult in the ranch and half of your Kept over the last decade have tried to tell me. Including the rabbit.” He sighed impatiently. “It’s not like I’m going in blind and without back up. I’m practically the last of the Brood to go.”

“Hardly,” Viddie complained from the back seat. “There’s me, and Ruki, and Kitten, and…”

“I get the point,” Yoshi interrupted. “But it’s not like I’m the first.”

“Well, no. That was Dora.”

“I get the point, too,” Cya interjected. “But I am allowed to worry, Yoshi. It’s my right and duty as a mother.”

“And I’m allowed to roll my eyes and tell you I’ll be fine. And, seriously, if Ankara can survive it, I’m going to be okay.”

“Gee, thanks,” the angora-boy in the back seat muttered. A little louder, he added, “if all else fails, just keep your head down and don’t say anything.” He sounded less lost and more defensive than Cya had ever heard him. “You might not like me much, but I did okay there. As well as can be expected.”

As well as can be expected. Cya’s hand went to the side of her throat, and she swallowed, hard. “Remember,” she said, fiercely, “it’s only four years.” And in four years, if anyone had hurt her son, had used or abused him, she would Find them, and she would introduce them to a whole new world of pain.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/241581.html. You can comment here or there.

Family Legacy

Jan22

For cluudle‘s prompt

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ

This story requires, I think, some background to really understand.

Her father was scolding Falk again.

Regine could hear every word through the library wall. If she moved to the other side of the library, she wouldn’t have to hear them anymore, and would be able to focus on her studies. She was fascinated with this book, with the whole series of them her father had found and brought for her and Falk, one at a time, plying them with scholarly works the way some girls’ parents brought them toys or clothing.

“Haven’t I given you everything?” their father was demanding, in the quiet way that was so much more real, more intense, than the yelling she’d heard other men do. Her father never yelled. “I have provided you every advantage, Falk. Everything.”

Falk’s answer was almost swallowed. If their father was calm and soft-spoken, Falk was nearly inaudible on a good day. “You’ve given me everything to start, Father. And I am very grateful for that.”

“If you’re grateful, then why would you have done this? Why would you have besmirched my legacy this way?” Their father wasn’t shouting. He would never shout. But his voice was getting a bit more enthusiastic.

“I didn’t do this on purpose. Believe me, it was my sincere wish to Change properly. I don’t know what happened, Father. I didn’t do this to spite you. I didn’t do this at all.”

“My blood is pure-blooded Grigori. My line can be counted all the way back to the Greeks. To the Gods themselves. This must have been another of your experimental ideas.” Their father made “experimental” sound like a perversion. “You will fix this mockery, or you will leave.”

“Father…”

Regine looked down at the book in her hands, and moved to the other side of the library.

Regine and her father Changed as full-blooded Grigori; her half-brother, Falk, did not. At that time, the early 1700’s, the wheres and whyfores of pure-blooded or half-blooded were not understood. The genetics of the Ellehemaei are still not all that well understood.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/241305.html. You can comment here or there.

Scrounging for History, a story of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call (@Inventrix)

Jan22

For The [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt

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

“I don’t know what we’re looking for,” Amalie complained, as they made their way over the rocky terrain. They’d left the wagons, with the rest of the company, on the last smooth place they’d found, the old road still standing, the encroached trees making it a deep, dark tunnel.

“Same thing as always,” Dor answered, as he always did. “Food. Livestock someone let wander. Plants we can eat. A lot of this area was settled and then abandoned, when the bandits moved in. Come on, Ama, you know this.”

“But why is it always us?”

“Okay,” Karida inserted tiredly, “that’s just a stupid question. Amalie, if you can’t come up with a new song, work on the tune to this one. It’s gone flat.” Turned to look at her cousins, she missed seeing the low outcropping until her shins barked against it. “Blasted returned gods!” She kicked the rock again angrily, then looked at it. Not rock, but a wall. “Like Dor was saying, settlements, see? Here’s a foundation.”

“That doens’t look like anything I’ve seen before.” Dor crouched down next to her feet, studying the remnant of a wall, tracing the lines with his fingers. “Is there anyone else around, Ama?”

With a swallowed grumble, their youngest cousin whispered the Working that would tell her if they were being observed. “Far away,” she answered after a moment. “Over that way,” she gestured out in front of them. “Ten, fifteen minutes’ walking, maybe longer. They’re faint. Maybe three of them, maybe five.”

“Should be safe.” He traced the wall while Karida walked along it, seeking a corner. She could hear him, as she found a stairway, murmuring “Idu eperu… hunh. This is some sort of formed rock, like the roads.”

Turning the corner brought Karida around the tall stand of trees that had grown up inside the foundation. She caught her breath, looking at the crumbled buildings, the trees and vines taking over, and, in the distance, the monoliths still standing. “It’s a lot more than that,” she murmured. “We’re going to need the whole company for this one.”

Next is: Digging through History (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/241018.html. You can comment here or there.

Teasers for the Friendly Neighborhood Anonymous Prompt/Donor

Jan22

So Anonymous knows I’m working on their commissions from the December call. 😉

Porter stared at the strange girl who had so tidily taken control of their lives – Arundel’s more than his, certainly, but still. Then it hit him. “Right. Come on, Arun.” He dropped to his knees and got a shoulder under his friend’s arm. “Stand up, that’s it.”

“Ow,” Arundel complained weakly.

“Yeah, I know. Those look like they’re gonna hurt worse than a tail and my ears did. But you gotta stand up.”

“Stand up,” Sylvia echoed, and with a muffled whimper, Arundel made it to his feet. “That’s better.” She slid herself under his other arm.

Flying, Arundel was learning, was hard work, and exhausting. Even though Mr. Hawk told him that it wasn’t all in the muscles – “If you were doing this all with physical strength, you’d never get off the ground. Your flight is as much a part of your magic as, well, whatever you innate power is going to be,” – there was certainly a lot of something going on with his body, moving these new, strange, massive wings, keeping himself going.

And, of course, there was the falling. He wasn’t, he discovered, frightened of falling, but it hurt, and he liked to avoid the pain…

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/240572.html. You can comment here or there.

Separation Anxiety, a story of Boom! Post-apoc for @inventrix, @cluudle, et al – PART ONE

Jan20

This is a story of my RP-in-Addergoole character, Cynara, some years after the apoc but not that many, sending her oldest son Yoshi off to Addergoole. She’s shown up in (see landing page) a couple stories before.

“All right, Yoshi, is everything packed?” Cynara knew the question was stupid. Of course everything was packed. She’d taken care of the first run herself, and the third run, and let her oldest handle the middle stuff himself. Everything was in its place, and Yoshi was heading off to school like she had, so many-so few years ago.

“Everything’s set, Mom.” To his credit, he tried not to let her see him roll his eyes. “I hid the rowan like you said, left the steel where Luke can see it, and I have the throw-away knife for him to take off of me. I’ve got food for two weeks and clothes… for an entire school… for at least a week. Who wears this many clothes?”

“Boys who want to meet girls who don’t think they stink,” she answered, the mom part of her brain working on automatic pilot. “Which I assume you eventually will, once your… ‘cousins’…. stop leaning on you.”

This time, he didn’t bother hiding the eye-roll. “No interest in being a lap-pet, thanks, Mom.”

Now she couldn’t help but chuckle. Looking over at Ankara, she wasn’t surprised at her oldest’s assessment of “meeting girls,” but…

“Your father was never a lap-pet,” she lied. “Your Uncle Howard, Uncle Leofric… not all men are puppy dogs.”

“No,” he laughed, “some are rabbits. Cursed gods, I’m not going to grow ears like that, am I?”

“You can’t blame Ankara for his heritage,” she answered, but she was smiling, too. “Well, one of your grandfathers has antlers. I can’t guarantee how you’ll turn out, but I’m sure you’ll be handsome.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/238292.html. You can comment here or there.

Calling in the Storm

Jan12

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

I believe (@inventrix’s suggestion) that Diarmaid is Mabina-and-Cassidy’s daughter born after school. This puts this around year 26-28).

This is after The Leftover Gift (LJ)

The natives – or at least the house-guests – were getting restless, and Diarmaid was running out of things to distract them with. Edelin had headed out to the Store “just to pick something up” over an hour ago, and hadn’t been seen nor heard from since. Solange had told them she’d be along later, and never shown up. And a peek outside still showed the halls to be loud, dark, and entirely creepy.

Diar’s parents had been frustratingly close-lipped about the school, but her older brother and sister had told her two things when they came home last summer: “Remember, you’re a cook, not a fighter,” and “if everything looks like it’s going handbasket-y, close your door and don’t let anyone in.”

Looking ruefully around her packed room, Diar decided she listened just about as well as everyone else in her family. Every friend she’d made in two weeks here at Addergoole – except Edelin and Solange – was crowded in here, eating her shepherd’s pie and playing whatever games they could think up.

Flurry, however, was staring at the door thoughtfully. “My room’s just across the pod, Diar,” he wheedled.

“And it might as well be on the moon, Flurry. You are staying right here where you are. Here, have some cake, why don’tcha.”

“Where did you come up with cake?”

“Leftovers, of course. It’s fine, Tony ate two pieces and didn’t fall over.”

“I trust you. And it’s not…” he paused to swallow the cake nigh-on-whole “…that I don’t like your company, Diar. I’d like a lot more of it, maybe in a less crowded situation.”

“And I’m sure you would, my dear, but that’s not today.” And maybe not any day. Her Cohort, or the boys, at least, seemed so young.

“It’s really not,” he agreed. “But I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Of course you don’t, and I’m not sitting not babying you. If you want to go out into the loud fuss and muss, well, you’re an adult now, aren’t you? I just worry.” She was, she knew, channeling her mother. She was also genuinely worried.

“I’m an adult,” he agreed, not entirely certainly, but studying her expression, he nodded again, a little firmly. “You don’t have to look after me, Diar. I can handle myself.”

Gods save us from boys who want to be men. “Then go, Flurry. I’m not stopping you.” Come back with your shield… Down, girl. He’s not yours to send off to battle. But send him off she did, holding the door open for him.

Flury was barely halfway across the dark pod when something with far too many arms grabbed him, pulling him up into mid air. Diar, pretending she wasn’t standing in her open door watching, gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Too late; all of her guests were watching over or around her shoulders now.

“Let me go!” Flurry gasped, struggling, and then really fighting in earnest, pushing against the arms. The air was getting colder and colder, or was that just her nerves? Diar hugged herself tightly, staring at her friend.

It was only in staring that she managed to notice when he went from a short stocky boy to an icicle, the icicle slipping to the ground in, unsurprisingly, a flurry of ice and snow. But he was still there, at the center of the storm, blue and freezing, and the octopus-squid thing was grabbing for him.

Channeling her mother like never before, Diarmaid snapped out into the pod. “Flurry sh’Eirlys, you get back in here this instant.”

She was happily surprised when that worked, and the storm bowled her over in returning over her threshold. Staring down where she thought the octopus’ eyes were, she informed it calmly, “This is my family.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/228883.html. You can comment here or there.

Dreams and Awakening

Jan11

Ceinwen & Thorburn, Addergoole Year 9. Kinkmas warnings apply: this involves some rough handling.

Finished my card and then some, so using Random.org set to 400 and the communal cards

Sleeping/Unconscious
The darkness poked into all the corners, filling the room. Filling this school with shadows, nightmare creatures, dream-demons. But in the middle, she sat, wrapped around a great dark shadow, shining her light on it.

The light seemed to come out of her like a physical force, pressing out of her mouth, out of her eyes, out of her nether places like shafts, penetrating the shadowy places of her lover, pushing into his most private thoughts. She touched a nerve, and withdrew at the gasp, then pushed inside him again, sending the warmth of her light spilling inside his darkness.

Breathplay
Ceinwen woke suddenly from the strangest dream she’d had in a while, woke to find Thorburn on top of her, his hands around her throat, pressing down, his erection already sheathed inside of her, his eyes wild.

She gasped, but couldn’t get a sound out, choking against the pressure on her throat. He wasn’t even really awake yet, still lost in some nightmare – gods, in the dream she’d been having. In the shadows she’d penetrated. She tried again for words as she felt the skin around her eyes tighten, forced the golden light at him instead, as he thrust wildly.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/227741.html. You can comment here or there.

Cost of Living

Jan10

For [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt for more of the Baram-and-his-house-elves story.

Baram and his family appear in:
Monster (LJ)
Memories (LJ)
One Sharp Mother (LJ)
The Life you Make (LJ)
Safe (LJ)

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ

Baram called it their kid farm, though he didn’t really seem to mind the small people running around.

He wouldn’t tolerate other adults – well, he wouldn’t tolerate un-Kept or human male adults, and Jaelie, Viatrix, and Alkyone weren’t all that thrilled about other female adults. They’d let in one newly-widowed neighbor with her three small ones, mostly to have someone else to help with the small herd of children they now had all over the place.

Aloysius – who was “Wish” because he couldn’t very well be Aly and nobody wanted to call him the Pear (Baram called him “Swish”) – turned out to be no good at all with the kids, but very good in the kitchen, which made all of them rather relieved. But still… Jaelie had to do something with him. He was not, in and of himself, useful enough to justify the expense of feeding him – at least not to Baram.

“The world’s falling apart,” her employer pointed out over breakfast. “And we’ve just doubled the kid population here. Do something with him, Jaelie, or find someone who wants to and will pay us for him.”

No-one missed the pallor that came over her new Kept at that. “Give me a week,” she asked, and was granted, and then she cornered Wish in her room that night.

“You’re going to sell me,” he said flatly. “Your … employer doesn’t like me.”

“My employer is not known for liking people in general,” she answered dryly. “And I’m not known for selling people.”

“He seems to like the three of you.”

“Not many women willingly spend time in his presence.”

“But you do.” He sounded jealous. She wasn’t surprised.

“He’s a big, strong man who is entirely protective of those he defines as his, Kept or employees.” She patted Wish’s leg. “And the three of us are pragmatic women with children to protect.”

“I could protect you.”

“You tried to kill us. I wouldn’t call that very protective.”

“Well, to be fair, you were the enemy. You’re not, anymore.” He seemed rather despondent, despite his cheeky tone. “You’re not a bad sort of Keeper. Not as bad as what I expected.”

“I’m not going to sell you.” She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged his head until he was looking up at her. “Believe that. You are mine, Aloysius oro’Briar Rose, until I release you. Understand?”

He gulped, and nodded, staring at her in a bit of surprise. “Yes, Mistress,” he murmured docilely. “Thank you.”

“I’m not sure you want to thank me yet,” she told him wryly. “I may not be going to sell you, but I’m planning on renting you.” Before he could say anything else, she picked up her phone.

“I, ah.” He tried to stand; she yanked him back to the floor by his hair.

“Sit. Stay. You’re going to listen to this, Wish, because you need to understand.”

He sat, and stayed, gulping, while she dialed. “Yes, this is Jaelie du’Briar Rose. I have an offer to make Doctor Avonmorea.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/290652.html (Paying the Rent)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/226700.html. You can comment here or there.

The Leftover Gift

Jan8

For Rix_Scaedu‘s prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

It’s also the last microfic of the December Giraffe Call!!


…some year between 25 and 35 of the Addergoole School, early in the year.

“I have… three cookies and half an onion.” Diarmaid stared at the tiny kitchenette. “What did you say you brought?”

“A potato and a box of minute rice, and Tony brought some butter and some soda.” Diar’s friends and podmates set their offerings on the counter. “And um,”

“Some vodka. And my eternal gratitude. The halls are pretty scary right now.”

“This entire place is scary,” Diar agreed. “All right, step back, me laddos, and let me see what I can do.” She pulled out a pie pan and started concocting.

“i don’t know how you can make anything out of that mess.”

“Well, and aren’t I a daughter of the crisis, the same as you’re children of it? If I couldn’t make a full meal from spit and beans, I wouldn’t have lasted very long.”

“You lived with your parents, I know you did,” Tony complained.

“And do I ruin your stories? Step back, let me work.” She wrinkled her nose at the pile of ingredients and began combining them, watching them double and double again, watching the edges of a real recipe fill themselves in. “And in twenty minutes, we’ll have a right tasty shepherd’s pie, and you keep your sheep nuts over there, thank you,” she scolded a newly-Changed classmate. “There.” She tossed the whole thing into the oven.

“How do you do it?” Tony asked, staring in awe.

“Ah, well, that’s an art and a secret,” she smirked, “the fine gift of the leftovers.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/224214.html. You can comment here or there.