Tag Archive | character: cya


This did not turn out quite like I intended.  Like, within a mile of it. 

Post-apoc fae apoc, Cya (the woman), and an unknown viewpoint male fae.


He was not, not exactly, stalking her.

For one, he already knew where she lived.

Everyone in this area of the world knew where she lived.

They might not have put one and one together and realized that she was who lived there, but she did not always bother with a disguise, and that particularly red hair was like a flag.

Like a beacon.  Continue reading

Cya, Librarian

Early in Cloverleaf-era

Sometimes, Cya thought her power had a sense of humor.

She’d learned how to craft specific Find requests, because, if she wasn’t looking for something or someone specific (“nearest unbroken Bleach DVD;” “Leo”), her power had a bad habit of leading her on wild goose chases.

Like today.  Like “nearest cache of intact, unclaimed books in an accessible-by-me location, with at least two times the number of unique, intact books as the hours I drive to get there.”

Almost every one of those clauses, she’d added on after learning the hard way that her power could be painfully literal.

Today… today she was staring down at a 45-degree incline that had once been the floor of this library. From the looks of things, it had been tolerably sheltered from weather – this area wasn’t as cold or as wet as Cloverleaf, but it still did get precipitation – and peering down and over, she was pretty sure she’d be able to get more than the required 16 books out of here.

But first, she had to get down there, gather the books, and get back up. Continue reading

(Not) Getting Old

Inspired by Life Extension, by Isaac Arthur. 

…People will obviously still leave jobs, but they’re no longer retiring.
You are not going to get the management slot when Sally retires in two years, you are not inheriting Dad’s business, at least not for several centuries.
You’re not inheriting his house either.
When he does die odds are good he will have several thousand descendants kicking around.
You also now have a de facto gerontocracy….

His sci-fi videos are chewy but really interesting. 

A story of Cya Red Doomsday, who does not get old, and one of her descendants, who hasn’t had time to grow up yet.  Continue reading

I was lightning before the thunder

Okay, I guess you shouldn’t let me listen to Imagine Dragons’ Thunder anymore. 

This is 100% self-indulgent and I have no idea what timeline it fits in, or anything but that it’s well after the founding of Cloverleaf but before Cya decides it’s time for a new project. 


There was a god at the gates of Cloverleaf — floating a little above the gates, to be accurate  — and he was declaiming in a loud and booming voice that he was the god of thunder.

The Guard force did not laugh at him, mostly because they had been trained to be polite to visitors, but when the mayor of Cloverleaf arrived, she had no such training and no such manners.

She looked the would-be God up and down  — somehow managing, although he was hovering above her position on the wall, to make it look like she was looking down on him.  “Boy, you want to be a god of thunder? You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

She smiled.  She had already put a lock on his powers while she walked up here, and she found it was fun to be able to posture a bit.

“Here in Cloverleaf,” she informed the would-be god, “we have the Lightning.”

It needed a proper power chord intro, because she was rock and roll and not anime.  One of the far guards indulged her.

Guitar music screamed from nowhere.  Someone handled the percussion.

And, as if on cue, Leo arrived.


AU Ponderings: The Council has no Authority

Okay, this started out when I was trying to write a story for Patreon (Legends and Myths, Fae Apoc) and sort of failed, but I had this idea about the Council (the ruling body of the “Good Guys” fae, the Shenera Enderaei, the Children of the Law), inherently having no authority to do what they do.  And since I’ve played with the idea of Cloverleaf/Boom/Cya facing down the Council before…

This is set some long time after the founding of Cloverleaf, and is non-canon.


“We are here to see how well you are abiding by the regulations of the Council.  Your position as a pro facto dictator here raises a red flag in our books, and we will be here until we have passed judgement or removed you from power.”

Cya looked at the people in front of her.  She looked at the woman standing to her left.  “This is a ‘Man on the Moon’ situation,” she told the woman.

The woman nodded and vanished.  Cya smiled.  The expression was small, polite, restrained.  People who knew her the best — and only them — knew that it meant she was absolutely furious.

The space of three heartbeats passed.  “I do not acknowledge your authority to judge me,” she told the people calmly. Continue reading

Fourth Date: Cya and Manus

A bit later than:
Cya gets ready for a date and Almost Out the Door for a Date and Trying Again and Blind Dateand Catching Up and Getting to (re-)Know him
and Also Needs a Title
and More Cya Date and So, Tell me About your Day

See also: Red Thorns.
For their fourth date, Manus brought her a town.

It was more of a settlement, really, a very small grouping of people who all looked at her with big, worried eyes and seemed to be very worried about their lot in life.

She’d known something was up when her normally-peaceful boyfriend was armed and suggested she do the same. “Should I bring a bodyguard?” she’d asked, mostly joking.

“no, that will spook them too much.,” his answer was a lot more serious. “You’ll be safe. you outpower all of them.”

“Them” was this settlement, twenty-three people in a burned-out town that probably hadn’t seen real inhabitance in decades. They looked up at her, and looked at Manus, and looked back at her.

“They want to fly the Cloverleaf flag,” he told her. “We caught them raiding, and stopped them pretty thoroughly, but they looked more hungry than fierce – sorry, guys – and, well..”

She walked up to one who had dropped his Mask and looked like a ragged, sad, coyote. She pulled aside his shirt and saw two red thorn marks. “Raiders?”

“Former Raiders,” Manus clarified. “They agreed to stop raiding, but one of their terms was that I try to get you to talk to them. Since I know you, well, I agreed to that.”

“So.” She looked them over. “You want to fly my flag.”

The coyote one cleared his throat. “It gives us a little bit of protection, ma’am, and considering where we’re from, we could use that protection.”

She looked at the next one over. No thorn-marks on his skin, but he had the old scars of a collar. He looked worried, and too thin, but they all looked too thin.

“And where exactly are you from?” She aimed the question at the one in front of her. She thought he might be human.

He shied away but forced himself to meet her eyes. “We belonged to the Shenera Oseraei. We didn’t want to belong to them anymore.”

“Halfbreeds,” muttered the woman on the other side of him, “and slaves. We ran away.”

“I hope you ran far, because I’m not in the mood for a war.”

The one on the end waved their hand weakly. “Teleporter, and Eo’sedek there can mask anything. So we should be safe. We came here, this far, because of Cloverleaf.”

“What do you think?” she asked Manus, although she could already guess, since he’d brought her here.

“I think they could do with some structure, and with some protection, and probably with some running water and a little help with food.”

“All right.” She studied them. “You fly my flag, you follow my laws. You want my support, you do what I tell you.”

One of the ones that were probably human stepped forward. “We want to be free, not just under another master.”

“And you will be. I won’t force obedience, but I will force lawfulness and I will give you homework.” She looked around the group. “In return, I’ll give you aid, help you rebuild this place into something comfortable, and you can fly my flag, with all the protections involved.”

“Homework?” asked the coyote suspiciously.

“Ah. Sometimes I forget I’m a teacher. Assignments to do or think about when I’m not here, as a – a human teacher might give a student.”

They shifted, looked at each other. “Like what?” asked the human one who wanted to be free.

“Well. First assignment, and I’ll be back in two days with food, water, and some other things: come up with one to four rules for your community that you can all agree on. Things to bind all of you. No bullying people into them; they have to be comfortable for everyone.”

“And we can fly the Cloverleaf?” The coyote’s ears were back. Poor thing was worried.

Poor thing had attacked her city at least twice.

“And you can fly the Cloverleaf. And those of you with thorns, I grant you the obvious exemption that you can enter your own town within the three years of your oath. Do we have a deal?”

They looked at each other. After a moment, the coyote nodded.

“We have a deal, sa’Doomsday.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you in two days.”

They wandered off slowly, Manus and Cya, to where Isra was waiting to teleport them home. “You looked like you were having fun?” he asked.

“That was a wonderful gift,” she assured him. “Thank you.”

“Do I get homework, too?” He grins insouciantly at her, and she found herself grinning back.

“Only if you want it, my dear, only if you want it.”

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#faepril – a unicorn mechanic

So [personal profile] anke is doing #faepril over on tumblr (see here) so I decided to write some fae descriptions. Here’s a unicorn mechanic.

Cya had, for once, not been looking for fae.

She had been looking for someone who could help her fix her car, actually, or the thing that, 50 years past the end of most manufacturing in the world, she was calling a car.

It wasn’t that easy, however, when you were three days out from anywhere, you were driving a cobbled-together vehicle that ran on sunlight, hope, and magic, and the last time you’d seen anyone had been half a day ago.
And it was raining.

The man came out of nowhere, or at least, he seemed to, and when he saw her Mask was down, showing off her Fae traits, he dropped his own glamour to show her that he, too, was fae.

The unicorn horn caught her attention immediately, the golden hair – not blonde, gold – that ran all the way down his back, the skin that was just as golden. He was tall, very tall for this long past the apocalypse, and bright like a statue.

When he saw she was squinting, he put up his Mask again, leaving him red-haired and brown-skinned, freckles dancing over his nose that was nearly as pointed as the horn she couldn’t see anymore.

“So. Car troubles?” It was only then that she noticed he was carrying a bag of tools. “I had this sense someone here might need some help.”

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Oh, it’s Autumn. (A piece involving Cya, Carew, and Leo) (Still Sword/Lady timeline)

This involves sidelong descriptions of really rough sex.

“That… was different. He was different.”

Cya had come home scraped, bruised, and smiling, wearing different clothing than she’d left in, leaning on Leofric as if she might actually need the support. The smile was a particularly lazy, pleased version of her sated expression.

Carew knew her sated expression. He’d put it on her face more than a few times — especially in the last few weeks. Not like that, though, and not with bruises like that, either.

She’d handed him a pile of clothing, her expression turning slightly-abashed. While she’d dished out the casserole she had waiting — because she was Cya, and she almost always had something waiting — Carew had unfolded the clothing.

Every single piece was cut, like it had been sliced off of her.

No question why she’d given him the clothes, then. Carew wiggled his nose and the clothing came back together. If being a mechanic didn’t work out, he thought, not for the first time, he had a good future as a house-elf.

After that… after that he’d been looking at his Keeper’s bruises with a combination of jealousy and wistfulness. He wanted to have put that expression on her face. He wanted someone to put marks like that on him. Even at her roughest, Cya never marked him thatmuch.

“Leo,” Cya had said with cheerfully sharp edges, “you probably shouldn’t tease my Kept if you’re not willing to bruise him all up, too.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t been expecting Leo’s expression, the one that made Carew wonder for a moment exactly which one of them had the predator Change and which had the prey Change.

Hard to miss those antlers, though. Hard not to think of what those antlers could do to you.

Now… now he was having other thoughts about predators and prey. He sprawled across the bed, pressing his knee gently to Cya so he could stay in contact with her. He was bruised, scraped, aching, and absolutely sated. “That was…” he repeated, but he had no words for what it was.

“Autumn,” Cya filled in, in a voice that sounded like he felt. She’d watched. She’d watched the whole thing, and Carew’d had absolutely no doubt she was loving every minute. “That was autumn and Leo. Buck,” she added, as if somehow Carew had missed that. “But I wouldn’t mention that part to him. I don’t think he likes it.”

Carew considered that for a moment. “He looked like he was having fun?” he offered cautiously.
“He did, didn’t he? Mmm. Don’t proposition him on your own.”

He already had fidelity orders. He was also not suicidal. “Yes, ma’am.”

“But if you liked it—”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“-then I’ll see if he wants to have another round before autumn’s over.” She considered things thoughtfully. “Not for a couple days, though.”

Carew stretched, feeling every bruise and scrape. “Not for a couple days,” he agreed.

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Finding a Doctor

This is in Lady/Sword timeline, and is after everything posted to date. Leo needs some help… Cya Finds it.

“I don’t like this place.” Isra looked both ways and frowned. “There’s something… wrong here.”

“I know.” Cya murmured. “It’s almost Stepford, isn’t it?”

“Like that movie… those movies?” Isra frowned. She’d gone to Doomsday; she’d gotten used to Cya’s references to things that had happened before the world ended, but sometimes it still seemed to throw her.

“Just stay close and be ready to go in a hurry.”

She didn’t really need to tell Isra that. The place was creepy. It was clean, everything crisp, the wall surrounding the town looking more like a suggestion than a wall until you realized that it was topped by three lines of electrical fence.

She had up heavy-duty “we’re not out of place” Mind Workings, and she didn’t think they’d be enough if they were here too long. Luckily – well, planning, not luck – they’d shown up in their target’s front yard.

Cya rang the doorbell. Isra shifted from foot to foot.

The woman that answered the doorbell looked, Cya noticed first, old. She seemed to be in her late 80’s by a pre-apocalypse judge of age, a thin woman with medium-brown skin that seemed fragile and tissue-like and a short halo of curly white hair.

“Ma’am? Doctor?” Cya already had a Working up that projected her voice only in a thin line to exactly where she wanted it to. “I’m hoping you might be willing to come with us. My friend desperately needs a therapist… one who can understand him…. and I have a feeling you might want a new place to live. We’re from Cloverleaf,” she added, and because they had traveled quite a ways to get here, “a small city in what was once Montana, in the – well, it was the US a long time ago.”

The woman stared at them with eyes that were very sharp before nodded crisply. “You’d best come in – if you have no intention of harming me.” She ushered them into her home and closed the door.

Inside, the cottage was as antiseptic and unreal as on the outside. “Is this the friend?” the woman asked. “I’m Billie Rexinger, by the by. Dr. Bilyana Rexinger, Planting-Hands.” She looked down at her shaking hands and frowned. “That was a long time ago.”

“I’m Cya Dayton, Red Doomsday.” She hadn’t used that last name in a long time. Maybe she should steal Leo’s…. no, probably not. “This is Isra, Moonlight, Moondance.” Dr. Rexinger hadn’t been the first one by a long shot to assume he applied to the long, lean Isra with her tight-queued hair and her businesslike clothes which obscured sparse curves. “She’s not the one who needs help, no. My friend, my crewmate, Leofric Lightning-Blade, he…” She sighed. “A long time ago, we were both hurt by our Keepings, by our Keepers.” It had taken her most of that long time to admit it had been both of them. “His… shattered his mind. He was delusional for a long time.”

“But not now.” Dr. Rexinger might look ancient, but her mind was sharp.

Cya reminded herself that she, herself, would look older than this woman if she Masked at her calendar age. “But not now,” she answered carefully. “He fought himself back to himself some time ago. But recently..” She winced. “Recently, we’ve been working on his self-esteem and other issues. I’m a fairly good mind-healer,” she admitted. “I’ve had a lot of practice. But – I told him something that, ah. It broke some of his belief foundation that I didn’t realize was still holding him up. Some ways he’d dealt with being Kept and being abused. And..” She swallowed. “I can Find anything. So I went looking for what he needed to put himself back together.”

The woman was still listening. Cya had a feeling she had practiced that listening face a lot. It was calming, encouraging, and rather impressive. Cya wasn’t sure she liked it being used on herself.

This visit wasn’t about her.

“What he needs is therapy, someone to listen. Someone to help him sort it out. And I, I’m too close to it. I was there for the whole mess. I was there through everything. I hate the woman who hurt him, and I can’t… I can’t hold back enough to help him.”

She hated that. There weren’t words for how badly she hated it. But it was the truth, and right now the truth was important.

She cleared her throat. “What I’m offering is a home, a proper house, in Cloverleaf, which is a settlement -”

“I’ve heard of Cloverleaf,” the doctor cut her off.

“Oh!” Cya ducked her head. “This far away? Well. A house in Cloverleaf as least as big as this one,” she looked around, “with a yard. A stipend while you treat Leo, and a smaller stipend for ten years after that. References to other people who might need your services, and help finding anything you need for relocation. And,” she looked around. “I offer quick and immediate relocation, via Isra, who walks the shadows.”

Isra bowed. She liked it when Cya was melodramatic about her titles.

“You care very strongly about this Leo.”

“He’s my crew. He’s the most important person in my life after my children – and my children are all grown and gone.” It was that simple. It was always that simple.

“Will he cooperate?” The doctor was already opening up a bag and moving things into it. “There’s a wine crate in the kitchen. I like the pans, and there’s food that’s still good in there.”

“He swore to obey me,” Cya murmured. “That’ll get you past the first visit. After that is up to you.”

“Well then.” The doctor nodded. “Twenty minutes, ten if you and your moon-dancer help. And then I can see this Cloverleaf for myself.”

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For Cal: Is He…?

For Cal: This comes after a number of things, including Jeska and Carew wandering around the city talking, Convincing each other to tell their Keepers that they were jealous of… (in Carew’s case, Leo, and Jeska’s case, the cat)… and Carew doing some thinking. Sword/Lady timeline

She hadn’t been angry with him.

Carew wasn’t sure if it was the long talk with Jeska or the fact he was pretty sure Leo – sa’Lightning Blade – was probably still mad at him – but he’d really been expecting Cya to be angry with him. Punish him, even.

(Even if his punishment would probably have Jeska rolling his eyes and very politely suggesting it wasn’t punishment at all.)

But now that he knew she wasn’t angry… now he had something else to ask.

And she was distracted, doing paperwork, frowning at something. Not the best time to ask questions.

He cleared his throat. “Cya? Ma’am?”

She put down the ledger she’d been working in and gave him a smile that looked about half worried and half affectionate. He’d told her he was jealous of sa’Lightning Blade, and she’d told him she’d pay more attention to him. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work! That wasn’t – well, it wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but it was the only way to get Jeska to agree to talk to Leo about feeling second-place to the cat, which really had to happen.

Are we friends? Jeska had asked, and, well, if they were friends, friends looked after each other. Even if…

“What’s up, Carew?”

Sometimes she talked like she was out of one of the movies she liked to watch, pre-War things that made no sense at all to Carew but made her laugh and cry with no rhyme or reason that he could see.

He cleared his throat What’s up meant what’s on your mind?

“Ma’am, is sa’Lightnin – is Jeska a Nedetaka?”

“Why do you ask?”

Why do you ask wasn’t no, it was show your work. “Well, for one, he talks about ‘Shenera Endraae’ things ​​like they’re unfamiliar to him. He grew up being taught that what he wanted was irrelevant, that half-breeds are impure, and I’m pretty sure that humans are useless. His idea of punishment is – I’m not sure, but it sounds bad. And, um. He’s not an Addergoole grad, he’s a decade older than I am – he thinks – and he’s twitchy like he just got out of a bad Keeping. And his crew whipped him.”

He watched her eyebrows go up as he ticked off points. When he ran out of things, she nodded slowly.

“We – no. Leo. Leo stole him from a Nedetakaei camp. I found him someone willing, and he got him out of there – although he hasn’t been forthcoming with the details. So yes, Jeska wwas raised and Named Nedetaka. Now Leo has him.”

Carew considered that. He considered the way Cya’s eyes were on him. Judging him, he thought. She did a lot of that.

He cleared his throat. “He asked me if we were friends.”

“And are you?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, we are.” He lifted his chin. It was worth getting punished for, to have a friend, to be Jeska’s friend.

She kissed his cheek. “Good. I’m glad. I think that’ll be good.”

Carew relaxed as she looked back to her paperwork, more confused than ever.

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