Written to inventrix‘s request/commission after I Should Visit, Part I, Part II and Part III; 1,676 words

Kurt bowed low, with an overdone flourish. “Welcome to Doomsday, lady and gentleman.” Never had those words been spoken so cheerfully. “I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

He sounded like a movie. Regine raised her eyebrows at him in the gesture that had quelled so many Addergoole students. This child, however, had no common sense, and was unconcerned. He winked at her playfully and turned back to the sidewalk, moving forward with a hop and a skip.

“First up is the dining hall and otherwise gathering-around place.” Kurt gestured negligently at the building.

“A church?” Regine was honestly shocked, enough that it showed in her voice. The building was tall, pale, and had a steeple — every bit like an old country church.

Kurt had the temerity to laugh at her. “Nooo.” He drew the word out. “I mean, there are churches and temples and such all over Cloverleaf. But not in the school. It’s more protective coloration. See, no crosses?” He pushed open a door so that Regine and Feu Drake could enter. “We eat in here most of the time, and then we do movie night and other sleepovers and things here.”

Inside, the dining hall spoke to Regine more of summer camps than churches: twelve trestle tables were spaced along half the large, vaulted room, with big chimneys at either side. “Movie night?” She can’t have heard correctly.

“Oh, yeah, and sometimes we do talent shows and the theatre club puts on plays, and the fighters will put on demonstrations and there was a fashion show last year.” Kurt flapped his hand negligently. “And at Christmastime, there’s a really big tree and we all get together for presents.”

“So you celebrate Christmas?”

“Well, or Yule or Chanukah or… whatever. But mostly Christmas. We give each other presents and stuff.” Kurt shrugged, un-concerned with the nuances of post-apocalypse religion. “But I mean, mostly, we eat in here. They serve three meals a day, but I generally eat dinner with my crew, my cy’ree, or sometimes both.”

“Ah,” Drake interjected. “You have a crew?”

“Yeah.” Kurt’s smile stretched into a wide, fond grin. “They’re pretty awesome, and pretty fierce. I dunno what we’ll do when Tamora and Brocce graduate — they’re a year ahead of me and Halston, but they might stick around the town, or come back.” He shrugged. “Next are the classroom buildings. This way.” He headed through the center of the dining hall, jumped up on one of the long benches and hopped from it to the next one until they reached a second exit.

“Ah, there you are.” Cynara walked up to them, carrying a young boy on her hip. “I’m sorry to wander off, but this one’s father has a class to teach, and I thought Professor Drake would enjoy meeting him.”

Regine had an eye for the Aelfgar look, which seemed to linger for generations. This toddler looked much like that, and much like Cynara, with a wicked smile that reminded Regine of and entirely non-Aelfgar child, Dirk. She raised her eyebrows.

Feu Drake stepped forward. “Ah, is this Kouveig? Yes, I would love to meet him.” Very solemnly, he held out a hand to the child.

In return, the toddler — Kouveig, Kouveig, she didn’t recognize the name nor the style — held out a hand to Drake. “Sa’Feu Drake… sa’Lady of the Lake, this is my son, Kouveig sh’Cya. Kovi, this is my former Mentor, Feu Drake, and Director Regine Lady of the Lake.”

The child took that all in with wide eyes, as if he understood it all. “Hi,” he said cheerfully, as he grabbed a couple of Drake’s fingers.

“His father is a professor here, then?” It was not the most delicate question, but Regine was always interested in genealogies.

“Of course.” Cynara’s smile was sharp-edged. “He’s crew, after all.”

Cynara’s crew had included two blonde descendants of Aelfgar. Regine cursed inwardly and smiled outwardly. “Of course.”

“Well, let’s not delay the tour, shall we? I’m missing teaching for this, after all.” Cya’s smile was no more friendly.

“You teach?” Feu Drake managed to make it sound inquisitive and curious. Regine was fairly certain it would have come off as incredulous from her right now.

Cynara laughed; clearly she had taken no offense. “Of course I teach. It’s my school, after all.” She smirked sideways at Regine.

Feu Drake stepped in yet again. “What classes do you teach?”

“Survival.” The smile dropped off of her face. “It’s what I’m best at, and in this world, it’s a required subject. Here, why don’t we show you the dormitories? Kurt, if you want to try to make some of your class, I’m sure your Mentor would be pleased with you.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He saluted sharply and bounced off. Regine managed another smile while she seethed. She hadn’t come here just to be insulted!

“It’s very kind of you to show us around personally when we’ve dropped in without an invitation,” Drake mentioned casually. “It’s quite an imposition, I know.”

Imposition? Regine raised her eyebrows. They were this woman’s teachers.

“Oh, I’ve been expecting you for a while. The staff of Addergoole did always want to see what I was up to.” Cynara shrugged languidly, as if she couldn’t understand why that would be. “I’m sure you visit hard cases like Ardell and Agatha too, or the nasty petty people like Dysmas and Eriko. Tell me, how is my former Keeper doing? Mags we keep an eye on, and Shiva… well, I’m sure we all know what happened to Shiva. We raised her children, after all. But we weren’t so keen on being friends with the other two…”

“They haven’t had quite such an interesting life as you.” Regine looked around the schoolyard by punctuation, then back at the small boy on Cynara’s hip. “Should you be talking about such things…?”

“Kovi isn’t bound to Addergoole. Very few of the children here are.” Cynara met Regine’s eyes, nothing but ice and anger in her expression or her voice. “And no more of my children will ever step foot inside that school if I can help it.”

The moment was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Regine shivering. Cynara was smiling again, gesturing down the lane. “These are all classroom buildings here, these three. We don’t have a very large school, nowhere near as big of class years as Addergoole, but we start and end earlier, too. We’re starting to work on a University soon, if only so this tiny genius will have a place to go to make trouble when he’s done making trouble at Doomsday.” She bounced the child on her hip affectionately. “So here is the youngest-children’s dorm, what we call the cy’Ascha or cy’younglings.” She gestured at the cheerful-looking large house. “They stay here for their first three or four years, until they Change or pick a Mentor.”

She made no move to go inside; Regine, distracted by a detail, didn’t push the mater. “Ascha? Aceline sh’Magnolia?”

“You know, I’m told that Luke said exactly the same thing, and the student giving him the tour said ‘we call her Miss Ascha or sa’Water under the Bridge.’“ Cynara smirked. “Aceline is a very good teacher, and far more patient with ten-year-olds than I will ever be.”

“I imagine she would be.” Regine could not shake the feeling that she had been scolded. Again. This child was taking her to task for–

“It’s easy to forget,” Drake murmured thoughtfully, “that children we saw conceived are adults now. Still, we did see them through their Naming ceremonies — see you through, I should say.” He nodded his head at Cynara. “Aceline is a very calm, thoughtful woman. She reminds me of her father; it’s sad she never got to meet him.”

“That happens far too often, I think.” Cynara set down her squirming child. “Even fathers interested in their children’s lives lose touch. Ah, here’s the cy’Red dorm, come on in.”

The house had red trim, darker red over that, with bright white clapboarding. It looked a bit like a candy cane and quite a bit like a Victorian confection.

Regine noticed first that it had a very nice foyer, comfortable enough for three people, jutting slightly onto its broad front porch. A small lap loom had been left out on the porch, as well as three bowls for cat food. “You practice handicrafts here?”

“Of course.” Cynara smiled brightly. “Cy’Red believes in being prepared for anything. And the fiber arts club — which isn’t part of cy’Red — often meets out here on the porch.” She held the door for them. “This is where my cy’ree lives, at least for their first couple years after they chose a mentor.”

Inside, the building looked much like a house – an open living room which fed into a dining room and, from there, into a kitchen, all of it bright and relatively tidy, a stairwell leading upstairs, which Cynara headed up, scooping up her son again as he struggled with the climb. “Most of the bedrooms are up here…” She knocked on a door and then opened it. “This one is pretty similar to the rest. Kelvin, Deimos, and Paul live in here right now.”

Inside, three loft beds sat over what appeared to be small cottages, complete with their own doors and windows. The rooms were looked lived-in, but far tidier than any child’s room Regine had ever seen.

She wasn’t paying attention to the room, however. She was repeating that name over and over again in her mind. It was not that uncommon a name — but on the bed in the middle sat a pillow, embroidered in a style Regine recognized. “Deimos sh’Eulalia?” she asked slowly.

“Deimos cy’Doomsday,” Cynara answered. Feu Drake coughed, and, for the first time, Cynara looked a tiny bit embarrassed. “Deimos’ mother is Eulalia, who was cy’Valerian and who is Named Slow Talker. I think that’s what you meant?”

Regine’s eyebrows went up. “You have an Addergoole student here?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/957451.html. You can comment here or there.

Written to inventrix‘s request/commission after I Should Visit, Part I, and Part II; 1,785 words

“…we will see you to the gate and bar your entrance.”

Regine raised her eyebrows. “You think you can?”

Cynara smiled back at her. “I think it would be a very interesting exercise for all of us. I also remember, very clearly, something that Luke taught us a long time ago: individually, a single fae may be stronger than another. In a group… it is rare that you will find a single fae stronger than fifty fae.” She folded her hands and smiled. “You can sign the paper. Or you can leave.”

Regine a second look at the paper. It was a short contract, agreeing to much the same items that Drake had sworn — that she would came in with no desire to seek military knowledge or advantage, that she would do no harm to the staff or to the children, that she would leave if asked to leave. “Do you seriously believe that I am a danger to students?”

“Do you forget I went to Addergoole when Eris was still attending?” Cynara’s voice was sharp, short. “That I was there when the basement opened up? That I was Kept by a vampire? The question is not whether you are a danger to students, sa’Lady of the Lake. The question is whether or not you will be able to restrain yourself from hurting mine.”

Regine drew herself up in her seat. “I was not the one–”

Cynara cut her off. “You were in charge of those children. And you allowed them to be hurt. Tortured. Raped. Killed. Yes. I will hold you responsible. I will assume you will hurt children if it will serve your purposes. I will assume you will allow the basest urges of incomplete adults with magic powers to run rampant. And you will sign the paper or you will leave my city.” She slammed both hands down on her desk and looked at Regine. No, glared. There was fury in her eyes that highlighted both her own Name and the name of her crew.

Feu Drake cleared his throat. “sa’Lady of the Lake–”

Regine gestured shortly, cutting him off. She might need to back down on this particular matter, but she would do so on her terms. She looked Cynara in her eyes. “Jae’Doomsday, I never had any intention of hurting any child. But what I have done, I have done with the highest of purposes. Your own existence — the existence of this city — proves my goals were correct. Fae and humans continue to live and thrive after the return of the gods, in part because of my work.”

“How many did Luca lose in the war?” Cynara’s voice was soft, no longer angry. “No, don’t count. I know why we didn’t lose Leo, and it’s because we used everything in our power to remind him of his other responsibilities.”

Regine looked back down at the paper. Of all the sacrifices that had been made over the years, the defeated look in Luke’s eyes had hurt her the most. “Did Luke sign such a paper, when he visited you?”

“I didn’t ask him to.” Cynara’s voice was level, easy. “I trust Luke to never do anything to harm a child. And if he wanted military knowledge, there’s nothing I could do to stop him gaining it.”

Regine was startled into a snort. She reached for the pen — a dip pen, with ink, how had the children thought to do that? — and signed the paper. “I so swear, as written here,” she murmured, and waited until the oath settled around them. She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “May I see your school, jae’Red Doomsday?”

“Right this way.” Cynara pushed her seat back and stood up, smiling as if she had not been furious a moment ago. Volatile, Regine had called them. It was certainly the reputation Boom had. She began to wonder if it was a strong enough word.

Cynara led them out of her office, where Kurt cy’Inazuma was still waiting for them. “Ready to go, Pricipal Dee?”

“Quite so, Kurt. If you could start the tour, I’ll join you in a moment.”

Kurt bowed. “Right this way, please.” He started heading down the stairs they’d come up. Regine raised her eyebrows at Drake, who raised his right back at her, and followed the boy.

When they reached the second floor and kept going, she cleared her throat. “Where are we going?”

“To Doomsday Academy.” He turned and hopped backwards down the next three steps, grinning insouciantly at them. “What, you didn’t think that the school was in the giant ‘attack here’ sign, did you? That would be pretty dumb.”

Regine coughed. “Are you this rude to all your elders?”

“Pretty much.” He hopped back around, his back to them now. “Why? Are you the sort that will challenge my Mentor over my mouth?”

Before Regine could answer that — it sounded like he wanted her to challenge this Inazuma — Drake cleared his throat.

“Is that common, for you?”

“What, people challenging my Mentor over my mouth? Nah. I mean, it happened once, but that was three of us, and, to be fair, we were heckling him.” Kurt chuckled unkindly. “It was kind of fun. And he really thought he was all that and a barrel of pickles, so it was even more fun when he challenged Professor Inazuma.” His voice lost all humor for a moment. “I mean. We don’t normally taunt people into challenges. It’s dangerous, for one.” He turned around and shot an oddly humorless grin at the two of them. “You never know what the idiot you’re talking to might have up his sleeve.”

Regine was fairly certain the child was not threatening her — even with his Mentor’s supposed might. “That is wisdom indeed,” she answered calmly. “It is always safer to overestimate your opponent than underestimate them.”

Feu Drake appeared to have a brief coughing fit; he paused, leaning on the railing, looking down the few feet to the central atrium of the tower. “Well spoken,” he managed after a moment. “Pardon me; just a bit of unfamiliar dust in my lungs.”

Regine had a feeling he was putting her on, but, since she couldn’t imagine why, she kept on as if he was being entirely sincere. “Do be careful. We’d hate for you to fall ill on this visit. Lead on, young Kurt?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He saluted smartly, then jumped down the last five steps in an outrageous leap. From the bottom of the stairs, he grinned at them. “You can take those stairs one at a time, if you want.”

“Nonsense.” She murmured a brief Kaana Working and floated down the stairs; Feu Drake did similarly, but without any audible Workings. “Now, where is this school?”

“This way.” The doorway he led them out of looked very similar to the one they had come in; Regine noted a Greek Alpha set in gold above the exit and again above the gate.

“Alpha?” she asked.

Kurt laughed. “Alpha, A, and азъ. The three circles of the Cloverleaf.”

“Very clever. Who did the naming scheme, do you know?”

“Principal Doomsday, of course.”

“Of course.” She shook her head. “Sometimes it is a blessing that the women don’t name the children.”

“If I recall, Cynara’s first two children were named Yoshi and Viðrou. I’m not certain they’d agree with you on that. Or, hrrm, there was Viðrou’s partner, Ce’Rilla?”

Regine frowned. “Well, I suppose some of the men are just as bad at naming – pardon me, did you say first two?“

“This way, please,” Kurt interrupted cheerfully. “We’re heading through neighborhoods for a couple blocks, people’s houses and markets and things. We could cut through, but sometimes people get a little antsy about strangers showing up in the middle of the block.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Drake murmured quietly. Kurt shot them a brief grin before taking off at a pace Regine found herself hard-tasked to keep up with – at least with any modicum of grace.

They were on a narrow road now, or perhaps a very wide sidewalk. To either side of them were houses, brightly colored, cheerful, with grassy lawns and kitchen gardens full of herbs. A couple times, they passed people outside, handing laundry, chatting with their neighbors, working in their gardens. They would wave, cheerful and friendly, and Kurt would wave back. His uniform, Regine supposed, was like a flag, declaring that he belonged.

“It reminds one a bit of a Norman Rockwell painting, doesn’t it?” Feu Drake’s murmur was quiet, thoughtful, but Regine could not help but wonder if he had some deeper meaning in mind.

“Rockwell lived in a later era than she’s imitating,” she replied, a bit sharply. “This is frankly medieval.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Indoor plumbing, glazed windows, that hardly seems quite that out-of-date. And, of course, for the era we live in now, that’s positively luxurious.”

Regine pursed her lips. It was easy to overlook, living as they did. She struggled with her pride for a moment: She rarely left the confines of the school and the Village, and when she did, it was usually in the company of a teleporter. “How bad is it, out there?”

“Young Kurt?” Drake raised his voice. The student in question turned gracefully, if a bit exaggeratedly, and half-bowed to them.

“How may I serve?”

“Where you grew up, was running water common?”

“Oh, yeah.” He grinned. “We weren’t one of those throwback places. Every house has a pump out front. And there’s a bathhouse in the center of town where the water comes out of spigots, like it does in the bath-rooms here.”

“And electricity?”

“What, like the lights? The town hall — that’s connected to the bathhouse — had that, run by a windmill out back. I never really got the point. Gaslights are nice, you know?” He turned on his heel and gestured in front of them. “And here we are.”

Drake raised an eyebrow at Regine, as if to say see? “And here we are, indeed.”

The gate to Doomsday arched over the path. It was wide enough for two people to stand abreast, made of ornate ironwork painted white. The words “Doomsday Academy” were picked out in a clear, grammar-school font among the curlicues. The actual gates were open, swinging inwards.

As far as Regine could tell, the gate was the only delineator. On the other side of the arch, the houses continued, brightly-colored and cheerful.

Kurt bowed low, with an overdone flourish. “Welcome to Doomsday, lady and gentleman.” Never had those words been spoken so cheerfully. “I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/952869.html. You can comment here or there.