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For [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)

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ

Jaelie looked at her new possession, back at her employer, and over to her child, before going through that cycle a second time, this time smiling. “All right,” she told her new Kept, “you heard the man. Viatrix?”

“Already on it.” Indeed, she was nearly to Baram already. “Shaina,” she called out to her oldest daughter, “get those kids inside. All of them, no arguments. Alkyone, can you help Jaelie and her new pet with the walls?”

“Got it,” Aly nodded. “Jae, I’ll get the back. Take a minute, get him up to speed before he puts a spear in one of us, all right? Make him safe.”

“On it.” She pointed at a bench, one she’d made herself, that would now need hours of repair from a stray axe swing. “You. Sit.”

He sat. He didn’t have any choice, but his expression suggested he was still affronted and surprised.

“I’d get used to it, if I were you,” she advised, amused. “You attacked us. You yielded, so you get to live. Doesn’t mean that we’re gonna follow Roberts Rules of Order or the Geneva Convention… you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I understand the gist of it,” he answered primly. “We have been living here – ah, well, I have been living here; they had been, but they’re dead now – that is, in this country, in this world, for several months. Long enough to learn the language.”

“Good for you,” she sneered. “At least you’d learned enough to say ‘I yield.’”

“It seems to have turned out to be helpful,” he answered, looking a little ashamed. “But I do not know how it is you treat your prisoners here.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “you’re going to find out. And you’re not exactly a prisoner, now are you?”

“No? Err, that is, no.” He blinked. “No, sa’Briar Rose, I am not.” He bent his head in a show of submission.

“Very good. Now. Do not attempt to cause harm to me, the other adults of this family – Alkyone, Viatrix, or our employer, Baram. Do not attempt to cause harm to any child within our property, or to the children of the four adults of this family, ever. The property, for the purposes of your orders, is bordered by the stone wall, where its foundation stands right now, on three sides, the border finished by the line of hawthorn trees in the back. Do not leave said property without the permission of one of the adults here, henceforth defined as Alkyone, Viatrix, Baram, or myself. Do not…” She continued, watching his expression sink into defeat. When she had covered all the basics, she stopped; her throat was getting hoarse. “You can call me Jaelie when the children or others not of this family are around. When it is just the adults, you will call me mistress, or sa’Briar Rose.”

She smiled at him, although she knew it did not look friendly. “You can stand up now.”

He did so, smoothing his ripped and bloody pants. “Those orders were, ah, very thorough,” he coughed, clearly checking his mind to be certain even that complaint was acceptable. Jaelie smirked fiercely at him, and he continued. “Mistress. I was under the impression that you ladies were, mmm, young, due to your speech patterns, despite your fierce and very effective combat techniques.”

“We’re all under fifty,” she agreed. “We just had a very… thorough… education. And we believe in keeping our families safe.”

“I would love to see this school.”

“I’m sure the Director would love to get her hands on you, too. If you’re very good – or very bad – I may take you to meet her.”

“Oh. Good?” he asked weakly.

“Perhaps. Come on inside. You’ll be sleeping in my room. Be nice to my kids.”

“Ah, which of them are your kids?”

“Gerulf and Vondra. They’re the ones with green eyes, if it helps.”

“Green eyes. Right.” He looked so very lost. Jaelie patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“It’s not going to be that bad. We might be half-breed kids, but we know what monsters are, and we aren’t them.” No matter what their employer was billed as.

“Thank you,” he answered. “Ah… did you mention that one of the ‘adults’ here could heal… mistress?”

“Yes.” She patted his shoulder again. “Let’s take care of that before you fall over, pet.”

“Thank you, mistress,” he mumbled.

“I don’t have that much left for him,” Viatrix told them, “but I’ll keep him from falling over for now and take care of the rest of it tomorrow. Bossman was pretty badly ripped up.”

“I saw.” She frowned unhappily. “Did you get him to lay down and rest?”

“Only through threats and bribery.”

“Ah.” She winced on Via’s behalf. “If you need some help with that…?”

“You and Aly take care of the kids – and you’ve got this one to deal with.” She poked their new Kept in the ribs. “Right, you, what’s your Name?”

“Ah.” He squirmed uncomfortably, until Via poked him again. “Sorry. My name is Aloysius, oro’Briar Rose, clearly. I was Named the Pear.”

“Fruit or torture device?”

“You’re all very well-learned for… ah, yes. Both.”

“You might want to think on the merits of a new Name.”

He coughed again. “Well. I suppose, at the moment, that’s up to sa’Briar Rose.”

“Mmn. We’ll worry about that in the morning. I’m going to check on the kids. When Viatrix is done healing you, go into the kitchen and wait for me there. If you know how to do dishes without making a mess, it’s officially now your turn.”

“Yes, mistress.” Looking more than a little overwhelmed, he sat and allowed Via to heal him.

Jaelie headed into the living room, where Alkyone had herded the kids. All the kids. “Is it me?” she asked Jaelie. “Or did our child number double?”

“And then some,” she confirmed. “Kids’ friends from school. All right, kidlings, listen up.” She let her voice rise to drill-sergeant level. “I need you to split into two groups for a moment. If your mother lives here, over here,” she pointed to the left of the room. “If your mother does not live here, over here.” She gestured at the left of the room. “Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” called the boy who had told Gerulf that his dad was awesome. Slowly, the kids organized themselves, with a minimum of pushing and shoving.

“Please, ma’am,” one small kid said quietly. “Don’t make us leave. It’s scary out there, with the men with wings and things.”

“Stop making shit- stuff, sorry – stuff up, Xandra,” a bigger boy scoffed.

“I am not making things ups, Thomas Hidlay!”

Jaelie eyed the girl thoughtfully. “All right, all right. Line up for me, children who are not my offspring. Now. I want each of you to call your parents and let them know where you are. You first, loudmouth.”

“Hey, you can’t…!” another kid complained. “That’s mean.”

“Calling him loudmouth? Of course I can.”

“It’s not nice, though!”

“Well, is he nice?”

“No!” several other kids chimed in, but it was Vondra who protested quietly.

“Mom, he’s my friend.”

“All right, then, my apologies, Thomas. But please do call your parents.” She snuggled Vondra while Thomas made the phone call, mostly out of apology, partially because her babies were okay. She watched the kids on the phone, hiding here because here was safe, and held her own daughter even more tightly. She’d made the right decision, bringing them here. She’d made the right decision, picking a good monster to protect them.

And learning to protect them herself, of course. She glanced at the room where Baram slept, and smiled faintly. They were safe here. Other people’s babies might have to rely on them, too, but that was okay.

One by one, the kids called home. Some of their parents answered, and told them “stay put. Stay put and we’ll come get you.” Jaelie talked to the ones who wanted to talk to her, assuring them their kids were safe, safe, sound, and would be fed and cared for until they could get there. She’d take care of them.

The ones whose mother didn’t answer, whose father didn’t answer, she hugged, and told them the same thing. And “We’ll try again in the morning.”

Because there would be a morning. She looked out the front door one last time, and murmured a Working to the grass to eat what was left of their attackers. They would not have another morning, the interlopers, and Jaelie and her family would. And that was as it should be.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/184507.html. You can comment here or there.

Character Development Meme (morning Warmup), Questions 7 and 8

As discussed here and on LJ, I’m going to do this meme for a few characters (I’m rotating seasonal sibs to not totally overwhelm myself).

Questions 5 & 4 are here and on LJ.

7.) Is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? Why?

Spring (well, really, all 4 RoundTree Siblings): Their father’s death. Dad RoundTree died when Mom was pregnant with Spring, leaving Winter as parental figure for his three little sisters (Mom’s not all that good at the parenting thing). The three that remember him miss him horribly, and Spring has always felt his loss.

Conrad: I’d have to say that what happened to Kai with Anatoliy wins here. He’s had a pretty easy life, even up to his first year of Addergoole

Rin: Hrm. This one is harder. Rin’s seen a number of deaths she couldn’t prevent, and handled any number of really unpleasant situations. I don’t think any one of those stands out to her, however.

8.) Day of Favorites! What’s your character’s favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?

Spring: Rocky Road, Green, “Hate Me,” Orchid
Summer: Chocolate, Pink (yes, really), the soundtrack to Rent, roses
Autumn: Maple Walnut, Red, Something loud and full of fiddles, and irises.
Winter: Vanilla, White (or blue), Mozart, Crocuses.

Rin: they don’t have ice cream. Her favorite colors are green and blue. She likes the marching songs, although she’ll rarely admit it, and she loves the snowblossoms that grown on the cold sides of the mountains.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/183716.html. You can comment here or there.

Another Door Opens…

If you haven’t noticed by now, I can be bribed to write more with art. 😉 Icon of Sylvia by @Inventrix.

Story takes place in early Year 8, in the beginning of October. Inspired in part by ‘Trix’s request (Paraphrase: “Porter! Involving Doors!”) and in part by this sketch that inspired Arundel in the first place.

Speaking of arts of this crew (I think they call themselves the WWF. 😉 [personal profile] anke drew a picture of Porter!

Porter could, he’d found, open doors without needing there to actually be a door there. More importantly, when he closed said doors behind him, they went away again as far as anyone else was concerned.

This was turning out to be a very useful skill, because the bullies around here were big, strong, terrifying, and relentless, and the girls, while smaller, less terrifying, and in theory maybe less strong, were no less relentless. He’d spent a lot of time in the last two weeks – ever since Saturday had turned into the Day of Creeps Everywhere and he’d fallen through an accidental door into Dr. Caitrins with a splitting headache and a new tail – making shortcuts everywhere, because the less time he was in the halls, the better.

Today, he had a few minutes of peace. No-one was chasing him. No-one was rubbing up against his leg or trying to pet his tail. So he was practicing a trick he’d thought of but not really wanted to try in a pinch: namely, opening a door in the floor.

The first couple worked okay, opening him out into hallways. With a jump, he could even open a door in the ceiling. The third door he opened, however, left him standing in mid-air over someone’s dorm.

“Hello.” He knew the girl who walked into sight below him, although only in passing. “You are standing on my ceiling.”

“Your ceiling seems to be, ah, where my door was.”

“Aah. Come on in.” She pulled a chair out from under him.

The invisible barrier vanished, and he fell down the twelve feet onto her floor, landing on all fours. “Oof. What the…?” He looked around, then, because she was right there and it was her room, at the girl, hoping she wasn’t another one of the chasing-him-around sort.

She hadn’t tried yet, at least. He’d seen her in the back of a couple of his classes, Sylva, Sylvie… Sylvia. Her Change, if that’s what they were supposed to be calling it, seemed to be otter-y the way his was tiger-y, cute ears and tail and all. She was regarding him with a quizzical head-tilted expression. “That was my Sanctity. Or rather, once I invited you in, that was my Sanctity no longer taking hold.”

“Hey Porto.” Above their heads, Porter’s friend Arundel was peering through Porter’s door, which he hadn’t managed to get closed. “What’re you doing down there? Oh, hi, Sylvia.”

“Hello, Arundel. Come on in.”

“What… ack!” Arundel tumbled face-first through the portal, flailing, arms waving, legs kicking. He landed badly, hitting the edge of the bed with his chin, and struggled to reach his feet as his body seemed to sprawl wrong in all directions. He groaned suddenly, an embarrassed grunt transforming into something pained and unhappy.

“What… shit. Pardon me, miss.” Porter nodded at the girl. “Sorry, Arun, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Wha-?”

“Abatu unutu!” He had been more than a little thrilled to learn two of his strongest Words were Destroy and Stuff; now he got to make use of it as Arundel’s… wings, yes, those big feathery eagle-looking things were wings – came painfully unfolding out of his back as his shirt disintegrated.

“Interesting.” Sylvia looked between the two of them. “Tell me, have both of you managed to avoid saying words indicating that you belong to, are the property of, or are otherwise chattel of another student?”

Porter blinked. “Uh, yes. Mostly by running, in my case,” he admitted abashedly.

“Not an unwise tactic,” she nodded. “Right then, very good. Eagle, tiger, eagle, tiger… Eenie, meenie, miney, moe…” She grabbed Porter’s tail.

“Hey!” he yelped. She smiled humorlessly and let him go.

“Right. You,” she poked Arundel’s shoulder. “You’re mine. You,” she pointed at Porter, “are in my crew. Anyone messes with any one of us, they mess with all of us, got it?”

“Um. Got it,” he offered uncertainly. “He looks like he needs help…” He remembered how badly his ears had hurt, coming in. Arundel looked like his whole spine was ripping out of his back.

The otter-girl nodded brusquely. “Got it, Arundel?”

“Yours,” he croaked. “Crew. Got it.”

“Shit,” Porter grumbled. He knew that one, and he knew the echo of an elevation-drop air-pressure change that came with it. He’d watched several of their classmates get caught that way, at the Dance, at the so-called Hell Night, and one in a tussle in the halls yesterday. He snarled at Sylvia. “Promise you’ll be good to him.”

“That’s why you’re crew with me now,” she answered placidly, “so you can be certain I am doing well by him. I promise I will do my best to be a good Keeper, which should begin with getting him to Doctor Caitrin. And closing your door into my bedroom, please.”

He glanced up at the doorway as the air rippled and popped around them. “I don’t think I can reach it. We’re going to have to go around.”

“Then let’s hurry. Your friend is hurting.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/183478.html. You can comment here or there.

Character Development Meme (morning Warmup), Questions 5 and 6

As discussed here and on LJ, I’m going to do this meme for a few characters (I’m rotating seasonal sibs to not totally overwhelm myself).

Questions 3 & 4 are here and on LJ.

Questions 7 & 8 are here and on LJ.

5.) What’s your character’s ranking on the KINSEY SCALE?

Spring: Varies depending on her mood
Summer: 3
Autumn: 2
Winter: 0

Conrad: I get the feeling about a low 1.

Rin: I’m really not certain. She’s not a very high sex-drive character any way you slice it, but probably about a 1-2.

6.) Describe your character’s happiest memory.

Winter: Winter being who he is, his happiest memory is one colored bittersweet. He was about five years old, sitting on the dock at the family cottage. The whole family was there: his parents, his mother’s mother, and his two little sisters. Autumn, about three then, was drawing pictures in the puddles of water on the dock. Summer was tiny, under a year old, and Winter was holding her in his arms, as he leaned against his father.

“Hold her carefully,” his dad murmured. “They’re a great responsibility, little sisters, and often great difficulty,” the latter as Summer tried to squirm out of his arms. “You have to know just how much to hold them, and when it’s time to let go.”

Conrad: (can I pick a memory in the future? No? Hrmm.) Everything right now for Conrad is covered by the bliss-bond of making his Keeper happy, but a memory from before the storyline…
… kicking a ball around the Village field with Cassidy and Vlad, the summer between years Four and Five. Just hanging out, not talking about anything all that important.

Rin: In a temple in an ocean-side city, her apprentice as a healer finished, she stood over her first solo patient, a woman of middling years who had injured her leg in a fishing accident. Slowly, patiently, Rin brought forth the energy, and coaxed the body to heal itself.

When she awoke, the grateful fisherwoman, generally an reserved type from an reserved group, hugged Rin tightly against her chest in thanks, and gifted her with a small, delicately-woven pendant of copper replicating a fishing net in miniature. She carries this pendant with her in her packs, only pulling it out for special occasions.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/182912.html. You can comment here or there.

Character Development Meme (morning Warmup), Questions 3 and 4

As discussed here and on LJ, I’m going to do this meme for a few characters (I’m rotating seasonal sibs to not totally overwhelm myself).

Feel free to suggest another character, and I’ll work through them in rotation.

Question 2 here and on LJ.

Questions 5 and 6 are here and here on LJ.

3.) Name one scar your character has, and tell us where it came from. If they don’t have any, is there a reason?

Summer: Summer had an active, wild childhood, and, as such, has more than a few of those childhood scraped-knee and cut-hand scars. More notable is one across her collarbone, gotten when a piece of a set fell on her, nail-side down.

Conrad: most noticeable on Conrad is his nose, which was broken and not healed properly in his teens (soccer accident). He’s gotten in a few training scrapes since coming to Addergoole, but those heal scarless.

Rin: Rin is a healer. She bears no scars on her skin because she’s healed them all.

4.) How vain is your character? Do they find themselves attractive?

Autumn: Autumn is not a narcissist, but she’s a flirt, in a profession that encourages flirtation, and in subcultures that really encourage flirtation. She knows what she’d got, and she likes showing it off; she dresses to that end most of the time. Although she will not sacrifice practicality for vanity, she also won’t sacrifice vanity for practicality.

Conrad isn’t particularly vain. He knows he’s decent-looking, but in Addergoole that’s mostly a function of not getting a bad Change. No-one there is all that unattractive on base.

He attributes his skill with girls – Kai is certainly not his first girlfriend – more to social finesse and less to his appearance.

Rin: Rin has her mother’s nose, her grandmother’s hair, and a family chin. She exemplifies the royal phenotype, looking like a Callanthe and a royal. On some level, she knows this makes her look attractive, especially to other Callanthe, and she’s spent enough time in Bithrain to know that, there, this makes her exotic.

She takes enough care of her appearance to not let down what people expect of her as a healer, as a member of the army, or as a princess, depending on what role she’s filling at the moment.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/182359.html. You can comment here or there.

A Vignette of #Addergoole Yr9 for @inventrix’s art and @dahob’s ideas

@Inventrix posted these two sketches:
of Porter
of Sylvia; Porter, Sylvia, and Arundel are a crew of upperclassmen in Year 9; Porter and Arudel we met in Timora’s Hell Night stories.

This scene takes place very very early in the school year, possibly the day before the new students get back.

“Um, Sylvia?” Porter stuck his head through the suite door – the actual door, for once.

“What is it?” Normally, the boys didn’t bother her when she was watching TV; they knew it made her uncomfortable, so left her that hour in the common room by herself. But Porter’s ears were a-kilter and his tail was swishing uncertainly, so she muted the TV and let him talk.

He got himself all the way in the room and the door closed before he continued. “Ghita challenged Arun.”

“What?” She blinked. “Margherita? Our Arundel? Whatever for? She’s barely back from summer vacation; they haven’t had time for a disagreement.”

“I – Arun doesn’t want to talk about it, he’s getting all the way he does, you know, with his wings over his ears?”

Sylvia couldn’t help but chuckle. Both of the boys in her crew could be toddlers when it suited them. “I do know. So there’s something outstanding there, and she’s challenged him over it. I assume the terms aren’t anything horrible, right?”

“Right,” he gestured impatiently. “It’s one of those favor-and-get-to-say-you-won sort of deals, not some sort of really bad one where he could end up Belonging to her or Owning her. I’m pretty sure neither of them are willing to risk that.”

“Arundel’s a smart boy,” she reassured him, “and my impression of Margherita was that she was bright, too. Of course she’s not going to set terms she won’t want to follow through with. It’s fine, Porter. People challenge people, whatever the reasons.”

“I know, I know.” He flopped down unhappily on the floor. “But I think she’s going to cheat. And I think he’s going to get really badly hurt if she does.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Well, that’s another matter.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/181528.html. You can comment here or there.

Creeped Right Out

From rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt.

A continuation of Creeped, originally posted here and on LJ

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole Year 9 – landing page here (or on LJ)

Ceinwen scrambled for a handhold, anything to grab onto, her fingers finding nothing but water and more water, her feet finding nothing at all, even though she’d been on solid ground just a second ago. A pond. A sinkhole? This was ridiculous. She scrambled some more, flailing and trying to keep her head above water. She couldn’t see anything except the water and, what looked like a long way away, the hall. She couldn’t see the man like a tree at all, even though, even now, she wasn’t sure she wanted his help.

A strong hand, nothing like branches at all, grabbed her wrist and pulled her out. She flailed, trying to get her other hand around the wrist, managing just as she felt as if her arm would pop out of its socket. Thus hanging from a very strong-feeling wrist, dripping, over the impossible endless pool, she looked around.

She knew the guy holding her. Unlike everyone else around here today, he still looked human, normal, for a certain definition of normal; Thorburn was a big guy, especially for someone still in school, tall and broad-shouldered. In a school with sports teams, he’d probably have been a football player. Right now, he, dressed in a long-sleeved button down rolled up past his elbows, appeared to be playing fisher, with her as the fish.

“Easy, easy,” he murmured, pulling her to solid ground and setting her down next to him. Paying no attention to how wet she was, he held her against him, his hand settling across her lower back. “The halls aren’t safe during Hell Night.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” she panted. The guy with the pine needles was coming closer, walking around what looked like a very small sinkhole. Just small enough to nearly drown her.

“She looks tasty, Thorburn. Let us have a nibble?”

“Come on, Curry, you’re a herbivore. You’re not gonna chew on the girl.” Nevertheless, he was holding her tighter.

“I never said I’d eat her, but I might like a bite. She looks tender…”

“I’m not dinner,” she protested angrily, glaring at the guy… tree… thing.

“You’re already marinated and everything,” he leered. “Good thinking, wearing white.”

“Oh… Oh!” She clutched her arms over her chest, blushing, backing against Thorburn’s safe, human warmth.

“She does look good enough to eat.” And this was another voice altogether, gravelly, rocky… yes. She glanced up to see another big guy, and didn’t this school have any nice, skinny, small guys? She’d seen them, in her classes; they couldn’t have all Changed into monsters. She shrank further into Thorburn’s big-but-human strength as a walking statue, rough-cut of some black stone, thumped towards them. “Come on, Thorburn, cut us a piece.”

“No.” His voice was so very loud, this close to his chest. “No. Ceinwen is mine.”

“I’m what?” She twisted to look up at him; he was looking down at her very solemnly, very seriously. “Um… Ceinwen is Ceinwen’s.” Ug smash. Barbarian take girl. No thank you.

“You heard the girl,” the tree-man urged. Was that really Curry? He hadn’t seemed that nasty before. She stepped carefully away from Thorburn – the water was still right behind her – and glanced at the other men. Creatures. Maybe their nastiness was just hidden along with their weirdness.

“Yeah,” the stone guy agreed. “You heard her. If ‘Ceinwen is Ceinwen’s,’“ he quoted with a sneer, “then Ceinwen is fair game.”

“Fair game,” Curry echoed. “Come here, pretty girl. I wanna show you my cones. Then Basalt can show you his stones.” He giggles as if the horrible rhyming pun was the cleverest thing he’d ever said. Maybe it was.

“Um, no.” She stepped back towards Thorburn, just a little. “Not interested. Not big into the landscape features thing, sorry.”

Thorburn pulled her close again. “She’s mine, guys,” he repeated. More softly, he murmured to her, “It’ll make them go away. They’ll leave you alone if you’re mine.”

Basalt laughed loudly. “She doesn’t want to be yours, big guy. She wants us. She wants a real hard man.”

“A real guy,” Curry echoed, “not some cy-” the second man’s hand hit him hard across the jaw. “Ow, goddamnit! A real man. Send her over this way, big guy.”

Basalt glared at his friend for a moment, then turned back to Ceinwen, leering, beginning to come closer. “You’d have fun with us, pretty girl. And when we were done with you, well, there’s plenty of creeps wandering the halls. Plenty of guys who’ll want to have fun with you.”

“And some of the girls,” Curry leered, moving closer and closer, reaching out for her with an arm that seemed to grow.

“Leave her alone,” Thornburn rumbled. His hands were heavy on her shoulders. “I’ll take care of you, Ceinwen. Protect you from these creeps. From all the creeps.”

She turned to look at him, putting more distance between herself and the encroaching monsters. “Yeah?” she asked nervously. “You won’t let them touch me?”

He stepped forward, not sheltering her, but putting himself between her and them. “You’re mine,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Aaw, don’t do that,” Curry whined. He was just a pine-needle away from her now; she backed up, scrabbling away from him, and found herself between Basalt and the water. Her foot slipped, and Basalt and Thorburn both grabbed for her.

Pulled between their two arms, she swung, scrabbling, over the pit. “Come on, pretty girl,” Basalt leered through a face like a landslide. “Come play with us.”

“She’s mine,” Thorburn yelled. “Let her go, Basalt.”

“I don’t hear her saying that.” Basalt tugged a bit, pulling her arms wide apart. Ceinwen bit back a whimper. “Come on, Thorburn, let go. Let us have our fun. You can have her when we’re done.” He licked his lips, even his tongue black and rocky. “Unless someone else outbids us.”

She lost control of the whimper, and it slipped out of her lips. “You’ll really protect me from them?” she asked, in a tiny voice. This was the twenty-first century; she wasn’t supposed to need a freaking chaperone. “I mean, I should be fine after today, but I’m… ow… sort of stuck.” She bit her lip, humiliated.

“I’ll protect you from all the creeps,” he assure her. “You’re mine.”

“I’m… ew. Ug Tarzan, me Jane.”

“You can swing from my vine,” Curry sniggered.

“Nothing like that,” Thorburn assured her. “Just… you know, think of it like an upperclassmen taking care of a younger student. Sort of a big-brothers little-sisters program.”

“Yeah, I’ll.. nevermind.”

“It’s not brotherly you’re looking for,” Basalt laughed. “But we sure as hell aren’t looking for a sister sort, either.”

Ceinwen, her arms beginning to go numb, looked between the two of them. “Thorburn,” she gasped, feeling his grip on her slip and fail. “I’m yours!”

Basalt swung her into his arms with impressive strength and surprising gentleness, her feet barely touching the water. Just as gently, he passed her over to Thorburn. “All yours, bro.”

Thorburn gathered her into his arms. “Now,” he murmured, “let’s you and me go have a talk.”

“I’d really like to eat first,” she protested. “I appreciate the rescue and everything, but breakfast…?”

He smiled gently, but it seemed to have an edge to it. “Shh,” he warned her, and put a finger over her lips. “we’ll talk, and then you can have lunch. But there’s some things you need to understand first.”

“…” It looked like she really did. Her mouth wouldn’t open; sound wouldn’t come out. She struggled upwards in his grasp, staring at him, gesturing angrily: what the hell?

He patted her arm. “Calm down and stay still until we’re in my room. You’ve said you’re mine. Now I have to explain to you what that means, and what it will entail.”

She calmed down, her lips still pressed together, and settled in his arms, still. Her mind was running in little circles, but they refused to be even all that upset of little circles. He had told her what to do, and she had done it. There hadn’t been any choice involved. There hadn’t been any… anything involved. She was… his? What the hell did that mean?

Two of the older students had been having a talk the other day, just them and her in the beginning of a class. The words “be careful what you say” had come up no less than four times. At the time, Ceinwen had thought it odd. Now, she wondered if it had been a warning.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/180816.html. You can comment here or there.

Linkback Incentive Story

This is my linkback incentive story for the November Giraffe Call (Dreamwidth.

The first part of the story was originally posted here (DW); I am continuing it with an additional 50 words for every linkback to the Call or the stories from the call.

The city lay in ruins. Nila didn’t know when, if ever, Michael was coming home. Power had gone out a week ago, and the looters had come through the neighborhood like locusts. She’d held them off when she could, hid with the children when she knew she couldn’t, but it was time to leave.

She settled Susan in her Kevlar sling and from there into her car seat, and made sure Allan’s backpack was balanced and light enough, taking the far heavier pack for herself. She checked all of her weapons and both of Allan’s, stared for a while at the note to Michael, and led her children out of their home.

The highways were buckled and bent, twisted like a ribbon in ways that would be unbelievable, if you didn’t know that god-monsters walked the earth now. Nila took the back roads near there, keeping an eye on the gas gauge. If she’d planned this right – yes. The car ran out of gas just as they reached the edge of the worst devastation, past the mobs and the crazy people, past the banks of less fuel-efficient cars and the toll-takers.

She settled Susan on her back and held Allan’s hand with her left, and sited a path south. South, she’d heard, the devastation was less complete. South, the winter would be warmer and more survivable.

She focused on the path in front of her, on her children, and tried to ignore the ruins around them that had been home.

~

They had been walking now for three days. They had to take it slow; Allan was sturdy for his age, but he still tired easily, and Nila couldn’t carry him, not and Susan, too. The kids were taking it like champs, but she could tell, as the sun began to inch downwards, that it was time to stop.

She was focused on the children, ignoring her training in a way that would have horrified her former Mentor, ignoring the surroundings, when they rounded a bend in the long country road and found it blocked.

There was a long awkward moment when she stared at the man-creature and he stared back at them. “Creature” because he was clearly not entirely human, “man,” because the part of him that was looked like a boy in his mid-twenties. “Awkward…” because the thing was clearly trying to decide if they were a threat. Them, a twenty-two year old girl and her two young children. She took a long look over him, cataloguing his injuries, noting that he wasn’t Masking the things that marked him as inhuman – or perhaps no longer had the energy to?

His doglike ears canted in her direction, and she dropped her own Mask, letting him see the flower-like patterns that swirled across her skin, and the blue “petals” of her ears. “We just want to pass,” she told him carefully.

He stepped out of the way awkwardly. “I won’t stop you.” From the way he was swaying, he couldn’t if he wanted to.

Nila sighed, and set her pack down. “Swear you mean me and mine no harm.”

The man-creature stared at her. This clearly wasn’t what he’d intended, and she could tell he was looking for the trap. With some people, it would be a bear trap, quick to snap shut. Nila’s ways were – if not gentler, at least a little bit slower. This would bite him – not that he’d notice, at least.

He seemed to be reading her body language . She, for her part, was too worn for dissimilitude. What he saw – a tired girl, concerned about her children and worried about the potential threat in the road – was all her.

He nodded, reluctantly but, she thought, seeming no other choice. “I swear that I will do no harm to you or to your children,” he gestured at Allan and Susan, who were being very good and very quiet.

It was more than she’d asked for. Nila nodded brusquely. “Shirt off. Sit down.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off,” Allan helped. “And sit down. Mom’s in business mode.”

Nila smiled appreciatively at her son, as the stranger sat down uncertainly, trying to pull off his shirt while watching her the whole time. “I notice you didn’t promise.”

“I’m a young mother with two small children. What can I do?” she asked innocently.

He coughed. “You’re an Ellehemaei. They’re baby Ellehemaei. And I’m out of power.”

“Well, then, you’d better just relax and trust me, oughtn’t you?” She smiled sweetly at him. “Allan, here, take your sister. Watch protocol.”

“Check.” Her son sat down with his back to a tree, watching the road in both directions, cuddling his baby sister.

“That’s my boy.” With a proud smile, Nila sank into lotus and began chanting a healing over the man.

After his first startled gasp, she looked up at him, smirking. “Name?”

Despite the good faith shown in the initial healing, he hesitated now.
She tch’d impatiently at him, and touched the part of him he was still Masking – the injuries he’d hidden under a glamour, to look less wounded, or to protect her children’s theoretical tender sensibilities. “I either need to see this, or to have your Name, to do this properly.”

Still, he hesitated. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“What are you, seven?” The setting sun and her own impatience made her short. “I will not laugh at your Name. I can’t Work a healing while laughing.”

“You don’t want to promise anything at all, do you?” he grumbled.

“Nope,” she agreed.

The man sighed, those dog-like ears going flat. “I’m Tros, Named Ganymede.”

“Thank you, Tros.” There wasn’t time to giggle. She dove back into her Working, pulling out only when she was certain he wouldn’t fall over in the next day. “You were pretty badly damaged.”

“Nedetakaei and returned gods. It was a nasty fight.”

“It must have been. But you walked away from it.” She left the question unspoken.

“They didn’t. But there were four of them, and six of us, and as far as I know, now there’s just me.”

“Aah.” She studied him for a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss.” They’d all lost someone.

“Everyone loses people in battle.” His ears canted unhappily; she took the cue and dropped it.

“I’ve healed you well enough to get away from here. I’ll heal you fully – for a price.”

He watched her uncertainly, as he tested out her repair job. “What’s your price?”

“Swear to help me watch and protect my kids and my own back for the next-” she did quick logistics in her head – “twelve days, and I will heal you and help feed you for that long.”

“Seven days,” he bargained.

“Ten,” she countered. “Starting at sunrise.”

“You have a deal.”

“Your oath?”

He nodded slowly, not entirely willingly. “If you promise to heal me completely, and to keep me healed and help feed me for the next ten days, beginning now but counting from sunrise tomorrow, I will watch your back and help you protect you and your children.”

She smiled crookedly at him. “I knew you were one of the good guys. I promise to heal you as completely as my ability allows, and to keep you healed and fed for the next ten days, beginning now but counting from sunrise tomorrow.”

The air settled around them with a pop.

Tros nodded, a little uncertainly, his ears twitching at the feel of the oath. “The sun’s going down,” he pointed out. “Do you have shelter for the night?”

“Girl scout, always prepared. Is there a good spot around here?”

“Just off the road, there’s a decent overhang out of sight.” He pointed. “Be a bit hard for the kids to get down it, but I can carry your son if you carry your daughter.”

Allan bristled. “I can manage a hill!”

“Calm down, little man,” Nila murmured. “Let the man help.” Her son subsided unwillingly, and Nila turned back to their new companion. “All right, show us.”

He was still limping, she noted; how bad was the rest of the damage? Not for the first time, she wished for more strength in the diagnostic Words. But he picked up Allan with no apparent strain, and gestured down the steep cliff.

“All right, kid, just hold on tight, kay?”

“I know how to do this,” Allan complained.

“Your kids do basic training on the weekend?” Tros was studying Nila with amusement as he started descending.

“Watch your footing,” she muttered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They made it to the bottom in silence, Tros still watching Nila uncertainly. “You seem like you planned for this.”

She shrugged, and pulled out the pop-out tent from her backpack.

“That’s… a little small.”

“Well, it packs better that way.” She muttered a complex working around the miniature tent, and it expanded into a shelter suitable to fit the four of them, albeit tightly.

“You… really are prepared.” He looked at his feet, abashed. “I was lucky to get out with a weapon and the clothes on my back.”

She patted said back, shooing him into the tent. “It’s all right,” she assured him. “I’m prepared enough for all of us.”

~fin~

Next: A New Flower

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/171652.html. You can comment here or there.

The Life You Make

For rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

This is a continuation of the Baram story posted in Monster (LJ), Memories (LJ), and One Sharp Mother (LJ).

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole Year 17 – landing page here (or on LJ)

Baram threw the monster – a real monster, a beast, a so-called returned god, a shit who had been attacking his neighbors – through the front wall, and jumped after him. The thing had ripped out a few of Baram’s ribs, and done something unpleasant to his stomach, but right now, he didn’t care. He’d care later, maybe, when his house was safe.

He ripped the weapon out of the god’s hands and shoved it through the creature’s face, swearing incoherently at him, spitting blood all over the thing. He jammed the weapon into the creature again and again, spewing profanity and bodily fluids over him, until the thing was in pieces. Then, only then, did he look up.

In the doorway of the house, a bunch of kids – more than he thought there ought to be by nearly double – were staring at him. In the gate to the backyard, his women were standing, holding up, loosely, a bleeding Grigori.

He looked back and forth between the groups. His women. His family. His house. And strangers. He showed teeth to the Grigori stranger, who took a cautious step backwards into Jaelie. She, in turn giggled.

“He followed us home,” she offered, pointing at the ruined side wall. “Can we Keep him?”

The Grigori wilted under Baram’s gaze, which made him smirk through a mouthful of blood. “Only if he’s useful.”

“Jasfe Eperu τεῖχος,” the man offered, and, behind Baram, the wall put itself back together.

“All right,” he allowed. “As long as he doesn’t piss on the carpet, same as the dog.”

“Wow.” A kid’s voice he didn’t recognize brought Baram’s attention back to the doorway full of children. “Your dad’s awesome.”

“He’s not…” Gerulf started, and then met Baram’s eye. “Yeah,” he said, as a small smile crossed his face. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/178920.html. You can comment here or there.

Character Development Meme (morning Warmup), Question 2

As discussed here and on LJ, I’m going to do this meme for a few characters (I’m rotating seasonal sibs to not totally overwhelm myself).

Feel free to suggest another character, and I’ll work through them in rotation.

Question 1 here and on LJ.

Question 3 here and on LJ.

2.) What are your characters most prominent physical features?

The RoundTree Siblings:
They share a stubborn chin they inherited from their father and a strong nose they got from their mother, a build that is sturdy or athletic rather than willowy, and a medium height that is neither tiny not giant.

Winter’s hair went prematurely white (his sisters blame Spring); he wears it long and in a ponytail, and it’s arrow-straight.

Autumn’s hair is a curly mess of russet, which she wears mostly-loose.

Summer’s hair is golden blonde, and as straight as Winter’s. It spends much of its time in a ponytail.

Spring’s hair is dirty blonde, light brown, and worn feathered and, no surprise, a little chaotic.

Conrad: The tail is probably the most notable, and his oversized, extra-digits-and-knuckles hands and feet. With his Mask hiding those Changes, the hands and feet are still oversized, and his once-broken nose and blue, blue eyes stand out more strongly.

Rin: Rin is a model of her ethnicity, as is not all that surprising from a member of the royal family. Her long black hair and small mouth with its rather generous smile are most notable; her skin is a light mocha-tan in the cold season, but, after several seasons at war and on the road, is burnished to a dark very-slightly-olive tan.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/178529.html. You can comment here or there.