The Council had Geraldine chasing fairy tales and urban legends.
There were two things Geraldine knew without a doubt about the High Council of the Shenera Endraee.
The first was that they were immensely slow to change, change happening more often because a Council member had been overthrown (which occurred perhaps twice a millennium) than because they’d agreed to it as a group.
The second was that they were very, very attached to their regulations. Continue reading
In which we prove that I am lousy at naming things, oops.
Luke and Mike are from Addergoole. Luke is Seneca Indian; Mike is a gender-swapping Dutch minx.
This story is set in 1864, one year after Abe Lincoln made Thanksgiving a national holiday. Parties take time to plan, dontcha know?
Luke knew Mike had set him up the minute he walked into the party.
The way the fancy people in their expensive dresses turned to stare, the whispers that he couldn’t imagine he wasn’t supposed to hear:
Isn’t he supposed to be on a reservation?
Do they eat real food?
They let them serve in the Armed Forces? Oh, as scouts, of course — but that rank can’t be real. Continue reading
More of a vignette than a true story, a bit involving two pure-bred Ellehemaei some time not too long before The War. Verena has appeared recently in “…There is a Military Group in the Area. …”
“I’m sorry, Tancred, but our family is depleted and this was the deal we could make.”
Tancred‘s mother didn’t look all that sorry. If anything, she looked pleased.
That was like her, though. She’d solved two problems with one stone.
Originally posted during the run of Addergoole: The Original Series, so sometime between 2009 & 2012.
It rained at Martin’s funeral; Meckil made sure of it.
She wasn’t allowed at the funeral; ancient ancestral promises banned her from hallowed ground across the continent. So she stood outside, under the branches of the linden tree that had Named her, dressed in mourning as befit a widow, heedless of the scandal, and watched, working the Words of the rainfall into Martin’s eulogy.
After Beryl and one Specific Boy, which is after B is for Beryl and her Boys.
“I know,” Jake admitted, “a cemetery isn’t really the ordinary sort of place to take a girl on a date. But I figured, you’re not an ordinary sort of girl, and, really, I’m not really all that normal myself, so why would we go on an ordinary date?
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This story is of questionable canonicalness – it probably happened, probably about 100 years after Cya & Leo graduate from Addergoole (or about 93 years after the end of the world) – but the exact date is up in the air, as well as some details.
It follows the Apollo/Boom stuff you can find on top on the Boom tag by about 2 years.
Mike was grinning, tanned, and dressed in new, strange clothes when he sashayed into Luke’s office. In green and brown, he looked like he had stepped out of a Robin Hood film – or, knowing Mike, possibly the pornographic spoof of a Robin Hood film.
“Cloverleaf,” Luke guessed. Mike had way too much fun on his little excursions, wherever he went, but only Cloverleaf left him grinning like that. They liked him in the bars there, it turned out, and probably the brothels, too.
(Luke wouldn’t put it past Cynara to have put in brothels just for Mike).
“Cloverleaf. They have newspapers.” He flopped the tri-folded paper down on Luke’s desk.
“All the comforts of the modern age,” Luke muttered. “Next thing we know, she’ll have self-driving cars.”
“Horses do that pretty well, actually. They say the press is pretty free, there. Only a couple rules, if my informant is to be believed.”
“How drunk was your informant?” The paper was called The ‘Leaf Leaves, and the first headline was something about Mayor Collapses? Luke picked up the paper.
“Faiiirly sober?” Mike hedged. “As sober as normal, at least. They like their papers. They like their city, turns out. I mean, nationalism and all, but it’s nice to see people happy in their home. And, ah,” he gestured at the paper. “With their Mayor.”
Luke unfolded the paper and stared. “Mike, what is this?”
“They’ve redeveloped photography,” Mike added helpfully.
“I can see that. What is this?”
“It’s a photo of the Mayor collapsing, like the paper says.” Mike was grinning, damn his soul.
“No.” He stared at the photo. It was grainy and pixelated, printed in four colors with the offset slightly off on the red. But it was very clearly Leofric Lightning-blade carrying Cya Red Doomsday. They were smiling. They were happy. And Leo was wearing a golden collar around his throat. “Mike…”
“Most of the rumors say it’s her collar.” Mike’s smile had vanished, replaced by something strange and thoughtful. “And all of the rumors say they’re happier now.”
Cya Red Doomsday’s best Words had always been Tempero and Intinn, Control and Mind. And she’d always been balanced by Leo’s absolute certainty that he was a good guy. Luke was already headed for the door.
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Near the end of year 5…
“You didn’t tell me!”
Mike sighed. Over the four years of school – the only four years she was supposed to be here! – Magnolia had gotten used to many of Mike’s sighs. This one, this one was new.
“I told you, Magnolia. I told you last year. I told you the year before. And Professor Pelletier and Professor Solomon told you, too.”
Magnolia leaned against the wall of Mike’s office and blew quiet raspberries. They had, she had to admit. Her classwork wasn’t up to par. She wasn’t paying enough attention in class and she wasn’t doing the homework at all. It was just…
“I didn’t think y’all meant it.” She wasn’t going to cry. That would be ridiculous. but she didn’t bother hiding the little wiggle of her bottom lip. “I mean, I took care of the graduation requirements. You helped… remember?”
She had the not-very-pleasurable pleasure of making Mike flinch. “The problem is, Magnolia, that’s never been the only graduation requirement…”
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I felt like writing this, so I did. Year four was pretty awful for everyone.
End of Year Four of the Addergoole School
The students had all walked across the stage, had all been given their names and released from one set of obligations and oaths into another. Various bonds and promises had broken. The students milled around now in the Village, waiting for parents to pick them up, waiting for Luke’s Jeep to take them to the airport.
Regine watched them from a distance, accompanied by Mike and Shira Pelletier. They bounced about, nervous energy making them louder than they normally would be. Students who had spent four years ignoring each other talked now, bonded by the feeling of “us against the world.”
There was a chance they’d need it. Mike cleared his throat. “Well, there goes the First Cohort.”
“Indeed.” Regine’s lip twitched. It wasn’t a smile, not as normal people smiled. Mike wasn’t even sure it counted as an expression for Regine.
“How do you think they’ll do?” He snuck a look at Shira, but she was ignoring him. “Do you think they’ll be okay, out in the world?”
“We gave them everything we could, every educational tool we had at our disposal.” Regine’s eyes tracked them coldly. Shadrach, who Mike had failed so badly. Dita, who had chosen her road and nailed herself to it with her stiletto heels. Isra. Lavanya. Linden had Named four Students as Adults today, and he wasn’t entirely certain he’d done well for any of them.
“We educated them.” Shira spoke slowly, thoughtfully. Her Students were all Third Cohort or younger. She had no horse in this race, as it were. “We taught them about being fae. We taught them about fighting, and we taught them history and science, literature and so on. But did we equip them for the end?”
Mike felt as if someone had dropped a truckload of rocks on his chest. The end. There were few scarier words than those, from a seer’s lips.
Regine cleared her throat. “We’ve followed the plan. If you believe the plan needs changing, Shira, then perhaps we should discuss it with the entire staff.”
If she expected the Skin-Taker to back down, she was barking up the wrong tree. Shira raised her perfect eyebrows and smirked.
“Why don’t we do that, then. Michel?” She made Mike’s name sound lovely in French. “What do you think?”
Mike watched Shadrach and Meshach hop into Luke’s Jeep. He cleared his throat and nodded.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think we ought to look at the plan again.”
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The one date reference in this currently sets it in 2053, year 59 of the Addergoole School and 11 of Doomsday Academy. However, I may move it a little later, to coincide with a project Inventrix & I are considering, one said Inventrix wakes up to consult. 🙂
Regine had a tendency to come to decisions slowly – not because she was in any way stupid, but because she liked to consider all angles of an issue and, on non-critical matters, saw no reason to go quickly. (In that, she was much like the old Grigori that had raised her, a fact Luke would not mention out loud or even think loudly where anyone might overhear it.)
Because of this, she often took long enough to reach a decision that Luke, having already gone through a much more blunt-object style of thought, was taken by surprise by the time she announced her results.
“I believe I should visit this ‘Doomsday Academy’, she announced, over a dinner shared between their crew.
Luke nearly choked on his beer. Regine raised her sculpted eyebrows at him.
“You have visited several times by now, haven’t you? And Michael here has visited so often that they have named a new drink after him. It is a project by an Addergoole graduate, and thus I have a vested interest in visiting.”
Luke looked to Mike for help. Mike was laughing too hard to even try. “It’s a lovely idea,” he managed. “I think Regine should definitely visit Cloverleaf. I think she’d find it very enlightening.”
“It’s not your territory, Regine, and you were not exactly kind to her. She’s not going to be patient with you.” You’re going to get your nose bent out of joint, and you’re going to ask me to do something about it. Or, worse, you’re going to try to do something yourself.
She simply looked calm and unflappable. Of course. “Cynara is hardly going to attack me and risk bringing the wrath of Addergoole on her descendants. Even Boom is not that unstable.”
Luke spoke very carefully. “The problem is, Regine, that Cya has never, ever, been unstable. And–” He felt mildly hypocritical, considering how long it had taken him to figure all of this out. But perhaps she could learn from his stupidity. “–they’ve had fifty-three years since they first attended Addergoole.”
“That’s hardly anything compared to three centuries. Or… more.” She nodded at Mike.”
Luke sighed. “No. But it’s quite a bit compared to sixteen years. Regine, you insulted Cya quite deeply. And–“
“Surely, if she’s so sane, she’s gotten over the insult after this many years?”
“Regine, how long did it take you to get over a minor slight?” He was beginning to get very irritated. It was beginning to show. And she was just watching him, as if she didn’t understand the problem. “Look. Right now, because Mike and I have been friendly and respectful, Doomsday and Cloverleaf do not entirely hate Addergoole and the Village. Do you really want that to change?”
“I simply want to see this school which a graduate of my school has managed. I really fail to see the problem.”
Luke glanced at Mike. The Daeva had mostly sobered, but he nodded, so very faintly. Well, thanks, that was a load of help. “You are purposefully ‘failing’ to see the problem. At least let her know you’re coming.”
“Well, then, it wouldn’t be a very good assessment, would it?” Curse her, she was enjoying this. What was wrong with the woman?
Having one straw left, Luke grasped it. “Then, if you’re going to pretend this is some sort of academic test, take her Mentor.”
“I cannot see any reason not to do that.” She nodded, as if she was giving some great concession.
“Good.” Luke left the room before he did something someone would regret. Hopefully, Drake could keep things from getting too out of hand. Hopefully, Boom really had grown up as much as he thought they had.
Hopefully, Regine would grow up sometime soon.
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Luca=Luke (Luca was what he was called when younger)
Mike/Michelle/VanderLinden/Meckil are all the same person.
Akatil Yixox teaches tinkering and “unutu,” worked objects (artifacts?) at Addergoole.
It was just too tempting. Mike left the 3-clover bill on his desk for a week, turning it over and over.
Regine refused to acknowledge that Cloverleaf or Doomsday Academy were anything but the pitiful games of angry children; when DJ had suggested trading with them for goods, the Director had actually thrown the Procurer (and the school’s buying agent; DJ was good at the job) out of her office.
But the currency sitting on Mike’s desk spoke far more loudly than Regine’s chill, snipped answers. It was well-done, for one, with at least three Workings embedded it in. Akatil Yixox had raised both eyebrows, and then said, with some consternation, “this is not the work of my Students. But it’s not the work of yours either, is it?”
It was a good question, and not one Luca had been thinking of, clearly. Luca, bless the bird-brain’s heart, had been too busy flailing his hands and wondering how the children grew up so big.
Considering his wife was the daughter of one of those children, Mike thought perhaps Luca needed to think out his reactions a little bit better. Then again, Luca had a bit of a thing for those far too young for him.
That was far, far beside the point, maddening as it was. The point was, the currency was fascinating. Having a bill with one’s own face on it was absolutely delicious. And having a fifty with Luca‘s face on it… Mike slept with that bill under his pillow, but only when he slept alone.
He had to do it. He had to see this city.
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I can’t seem to quite put these in smooth sequence, but here by request is a piece after She’s a good sport I can spring her/for a Fin or even a sawbuck.
Bonus points if you can name the sources of lyrics for all three pieces in this series.
“They… they’re certainly doing well for themselves.” Luke flopped into one of Mike’s overstuffed armchairs, for once happy for the ridiculous luxury of his friend’s office. “The school seems stable. They seem to have thought of everything.”
He thought about Nehara saying If there’s one thing everyone knows about Red Doomsday, it’s that she’s prepared for everything and found himself smirking. “Mike, do you know why Drake named her Doomsday?”
“Red Doomsday? Cynara? I always figured she was the calm at the heart of the storm that was Boom. Is Boom.” Mike grimaced. “Who would’ve thought they’d last decades?”
“We’re still together, the three of us.”
“You two are too stubborn to change, and I like you both too much to leave. Besides, there’s the school.” Mike shrugged. “So, they’re doing okay?”
“They’re doing phenomenally. They grew up while we weren’t looking, Mike.”
“Kids do that.” Mike paused in the middle of a flippant hand gesture to study Luke’s face. “You mean it, don’t you? You really expected them to be the same?”
“Some people… some people really don’t change much. Like me.”
“Look, bird brain, if you think you haven’t changed, it’s only because you haven’t been paying attention. And the same thing with the kids – with any of the Students. They grow up after they leave here. All kids do.”
Luke flapped his wings. “When did you become so smart?”
“Somewhere while you were becoming a curmudgeon.”
There was nothing Luke could say that wouldn’t just prove Mike right, so, instead, he passed her crewmate the stack of bills. “They made currency.”
“Hey, they put you on the fifty.”
“That’s a good likeness of Howard on the twenty.”
“Keep going.” He found he was grinning. If he was going to be completely knocked off his feet by Boom and Cloverleaf, maybe he could at least get a smirk out of Mike.
“And… ah. Heh.” Mike snorted, then giggled, then guffawed. “The girl has balls, I’ll give her that.”
“I’d say it’s a good likeness of you.”
“And it’s on a booze bill, too. Lookit that.” Mike flipped over the Three-clover bill bearing his likeness to look at the depiction of a foaming mug of beer on the back. “Maybe I’ll have to go spend it.”
“I’m sure they’d be… pleased… to see you.”
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