Tag Archive | donor

Tea with /HER/, a completion

Feb2

After Tea with HER (beginning) (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/381305.html”>LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation) (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/382107.html”>LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 2) (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/385348.html”>LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 3) (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/387899.html”>LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 4) (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/391025.html”>)
Tea with HER (continuation 5) (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/393263.html”>LJ)

It took the Ice Queen a month to have time to see me; a time chosen, I was sure, to give me time to relax, to calm down, to grieve, and to get used to James’ presence. When I finally made it into her parlor for tea, I brought him with me. Leashed. Cuffed. Exactly as she’d left him on my doorstep, including the terrified look.

I’m not a monster. The terrified look was faked; it turned out my new slave could act.

But that was something I knew, and he knew, and the Countess did not, which pleased both of us, almost as much as the look on her face – a split second of un-hidden surprise – pleased us.

“Does your gift not please you, Baroness Treanna?” she asked, cool, chill, and possibly a little irritated.

“He’s raw, new, untrained.” He fell to his knees next to me, his hair falling in his face. “He hardly knows how he’s supposed to act. He can barely make a phone call without supervision.”

“These things are true, yes. I thought perhaps…” She frowned, and I smiled.

“It will be more interesting to work with you, your Ladyship, if you are not pre-anticipating my every move and thought.”

She blinked. “That is not something anyone has ever said to me before.”

“I thought it might not be. And – with Michael in my hands, or me in his, it was easy to know what I would do, no? But this one…” I nearly purred. I was pleased with myself. “This one, you have not trained to train me. I’m very pleased with my gift, Countess. Thank you.”

For the first time, she smiled a true smile, a genuine expression. “My pleasure, Treanna. I think you are right. Working with you will be interesting.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/254464.html. You can comment here or there.

Tea with /HER/, further continued, a story of Tir na Cali for the Giraffe Call @dahob

Jan31

A continuation of… Tea with HER (beginning) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 2) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 3) (LJ)
Tea with HER (continuation 4) ()

I was very busy for several weeks after the mourning period. While I’d been running the Barony by proxy for almost two years, there was a marked difference between “by proxy” and “in fact and law.” Mostly, ceremony. Lots and lots of ceremony.

When I wasn’t being draped in ceremonial whatnots, mouthing ceremonial words, or signing ceremonial documents, I had my new slave to train.

He wasn’t Michael, and, though I tried not to drive that home to him too much, I’m sure it came up more than it ought to. Probably about the seventeenth time I slipped and called him “Michael” instead of “boy” and he found an excuse to leave the room and vanish for four hours.

I didn’t even punish him for that. How could I? It was so much like I’d felt. I did, finally, sit him down and ask what he’d been called, back home.

He had to think that one over, checking, I think, against the Countess’ orders. I made a raspberry noise before he got to an answer. “First things first. Who do you belong to?”

“You, Mistress.” That part was easy, it seemed.

“Very good. Whose orders do you follow?”

“Yours, Mistress. And… and your Chief of Staff.”

“Very good. But you follow Ander’s orders only because I ordered you to. What this means is whatever orders She gave you are no longer in play.” It felt so very, very, VERY good to be able to say that. I think I was grinning as I said it. “You are mine, and not hers.” Although I might be tempted to brand him.

“I’m yours,” he repeated. “Yes, Mistress.” Finally, what I was saying sank in. “My name was James. James Markson.”

“James.” Conveniently, it sounded nothing at all like “Michael.” I smiled at him, very happy. “Then I’ll call you James.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/251063.html. You can comment here or there.

Nice Guys

Jan30

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

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ.

Calvin had seemed like such a nice guy.

Looking at him now, from the safety of Arundel’s arms, Timora wasn’t certain anymore. Sure, he’d taken an interest in her, when no-one else had, but here he was standing there next to Tiggs, staring at her, and claiming she was his. Arundel had said he was too late. Too late? That seemed like a strange thing to say.

“Is that right?” Calvin seemed to agree with her on that, at least. “Is the ickle bird-boy right about that one, Timmy? Is he too late?”

He was probably waiting to trap you. Looking at him standing next to Tiggs, it seemed more than a bit likely.

“I really liked you,” she told him, wincing as her voice came out like a slow-speed car crash, then wincing again as he – and Tiggs, and Porter – took an involuntary step backwards.

“I like you, Timmy, that’s why you’re going to be mine. Quietly. Right?”

“I told you, Calvin, you’re too late. Leave her alone.” Arunde’s voice was louder and more high-pitched, and his wings were spreading to fill the hall.

“You couldn’t keep her if you tried, junior. Hand her over now and no-one gets hurt.”

Keep. Mine. Timora shook her head. “I’m not yours, Calvin.” Her voice was getting more level, but it still sounded like tortured metal. “Stop it.”

Calvin was loosing his cool. “Well, this little shit can’t keep you. How’s he going to protect you?”

That was the second time in less than an hour someone had mentioned protecting her. “Porter, Arundel,” she whispered.

Porter was quick on the uptake and covered his ears. Arundel’s hands were busy holding her, but, on the other hand, he didn’t seem nearly as bothered by her voice as everyone else.

“You’re being silly, Timmy,” Calvin said, and then she screamed.

This time, she was paying attention. Even with his ears covered, Porter was wincing, walking backwards slowly away from her. Calvin and Tiggs, who were either slow, brave, or stupid, didn’t even try to cover their ears.

“Tim-” Calvin began, over the start of her scream, which only sounded like a three-car pileup running into a flock of eagles. She pushed a little more air into it,adding a semi truck full of upset canaries to the sound crash, and Calvin and Tiggs started running. She made it louder, as loud as she could go, and Porter tripped over his feet backing up, falling on his tail.

Arundel stood there, holding her, seeming hardly fazed at all.

She caught her breath and stopped, smiling at him, then a little more apologetically at Porter. “It really does work.”

“It does,” Porter agreed shakily. “Your speaking voice is still pretty…”

“Oh, yeah.” She clapped her hands over her mouth, abashed.

“It’s okay,” the tiger-man assured her. “Come on, buddy, let’s get her into the doctor’s. Do you think it’s your power, that’s why she doesn’t make you run?”

“I guess?” Having the person carrying you shrug was, Timora discovered, a rather strange sensation. Sort of like a very mellow roller-coaster. He looked down at her thoughtfully. “Everyone has a power,” he informed her. “Porter can make doors. Anywhere. It’s pretty awesome. Me? I’m fearless.”

She made a noise that she hoped was encouraging, and he grinned at her even more widely. “And you’re really pretty. Here, Doctor’s office. I think you’re fine, though. It’s not a bad Change.”

The nurse shooed them into an exam room, all three of them, although Porter stayed near the door, as if guarding their escape. Once in there, Arundel picked up as if he hadn’t stopped, not seeming to mind the one-sided conversation. “So yours seems to be… sort of…”

“Kelpie?” Porter offered. “Kelpie meets a banshee.”

Dr. Caitrin walking in stopped all speculation. “The tapes are very interesting. It’s going to take a while to get control of that, I think, Timora, so I’d ask you to be careful with your voice until then, all right? In the meantime…” She laid her hands on Timora’s ankles and began muttering under her breath. “Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Arundel asked. “I see hooves. And a tail, right?”

“Unsurprising, considering her ancestry. Yes. Yes. This is going to be an interesting Change, and I don’t believe it’s over yet. Are you Keeping her?”

“Ah. We need to talk about that.”

“Keeping?” Timora whispered. “Calvin…”

“Yeah,” Arundel muttered. “I’m not him.”

“Hrmph. Well, Timora, take these two pills. If you are in pain in the morning, come see me. In the meantime…” the doctor looked thoughtful. “I don’t normally suggest Keepings, but, if he thinks he can hack it, and you’re willing, Timora, considering your peculiar power, I’d consider Arundel.” She pressed the small blue pills into Timora’s hand and, on that very odd note, left, Porter following discretely behind her.

“Well.” The eagle-boy flared his wings uncomfortably. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, I really don’t. But I was gonna offer…”

She looked up at him uncertainly. “If you’re the only person I can talk to without them running away…” she whispered.

“There is that, but that seems like a lousy reason to Keep someone. ‘Here, be Mine so you have someone to talk to.’” He shrugged again. “I’ve been watching you, and I like you.”

“You make it sound like stalking.” It was nice to be able to speak again without someone flinching. Then again, he’d started looking nervous.

“Well,” he squirmed, “kind of? I mean, everyone kind of stalks the new students around here. I guess I got stalked last year?”

Oh, he looked nervous because he was nervous, not because of her voice. Nervous of her? “Why are you all squirmy?” Lovely, she winced; that was exactly the way to get a guy to like her.

“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m a creep like Calvin. I mean, I guess I deserve it.”

“Did you set me up to get terrified and dragged around and what-have-you, Kepted?” she countered. Calvin had done that. Calvin who had seemed so nice. Arundel seemed nice, too.

“No? I mean, I just kind of tried to be where I thought he’d set you up, so I could rescue you. Well, Porter got there first…”

“Okay, that’s a little creepy,” she agreed. But… “Why?”

He folded his wings up uncertainly, hiding his head. “Because I like you.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/249760.html. You can comment here or there.

“So”

Jan28

For @Theladyisugly’s commissioned prompt from the December Call.

Yngvi and Sigurd are characters in Addergoole (Sigurd only shows up, so far, in the Halloween story Tricked, as an 8-year-old.

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ.

“So.”

“So.”

Yngvi looked over his son – his only son, and likely to remain that way, and also, although he tried not to think about it too much, his nephew – and tried not to curl his lip.

They’d done a very good job of keeping in touch, up to a point. And then school had happened, the way it did, and the sweet teenaged boy he’d known had, like so many before and after him, vanished.

Vi wasn’t sure he knew this kid; worse, he thought maybe he did know him, from the dark places in his mind, from the monsters that had forced him to learn how to fight. From the mirror.

“So,” he said again, looking at the boy half an inch shorter than him, lean to his muscular, his hair cut short and fashionable. They could be brothers. The horns, of course, added to the similarity; Sigurd’s were twisted like corkscrews.

“So.” The boy’s smile was every bit as sharp as his horns. “You wanted to see me.”

“We hadn’t talked in a few years. I do try to keep up with my family.”

“I remember. Christmas and Fourth of July.” He pulled a small pocketknife out of his pocket, one of the first gifts Yngvi had given him. “And sometimes we’d go to the park. Do you want to go to the park today, Dad?”

Yngvi felt his shoulders tighten, looking down at his son. Sometimes, the animal inside took over, and then there were contests of will, butting heads. Sometimes, as his father had told him, you couldn’t have two strong men in the same room; it just didn’t work. Autumn was worst, and it was summer now.

He didn’t want to butt heads with his son. He called on every bit of his innate power, every ounce of knowing-the-right-words that he’d ever needed, and said, a little bit to his surprise, “the park would be nice, Siggie. There’s one right down the road.” He tilted his head. “It’s still pristine. These people keep their land pretty well.”

Something in Sigurd’s demeanor shifted, twisted, relaxed. “I’d like that,” he admitted quietly, and pocketed the knife. Ynvgi started walking, and, slowly, Sigurd fell in next to him.

“You came,” he said after a while. “I didn’t think you would.”

“It’s your birthday, Sig. I’ve never failed to show up for your birthday. I wasn’t sure you’d come, though.”

“I wasn’t sure I would, either,” he admitted. They had dropped their voices, until they were near-whispers, as if hiding this from someone. Who? Yngvi wished he knew. Next to him, Sigurd shrugged out of his leather jacket. “I wasn’t sure I’d get permission.”

Permission. Yngvi’s head whipped around so fast, his horns whistled in the air. Permission? Yes, by all the blasted returned gods, there was a collar around his son’s neck, small, leather, black to match the jacket.

“I thought you graduated,” he hissed angrily.

“I did.” The tightness was back in the boy’s expression. “I graduated in June. Earned my Name.”

Cautiously, Yngvi touched the collar, assuring himself it was there. It wasn’t, as pieces of wardrobe went, ugly, but it was a slave collar on his son’s neck. “Do I have to kill someone?” he asked flatly. “Who do I need to kill for you, Sigurd?”

His son looked, for a moment, frightened, and then something else. Touched? Worried? “I… I took this on, Dad,” he offered, very nervously. “I wasn’t tricked into it.” He was talking fast now. “I needed a favor, a couple little favors, and he’s a nice guy. We worked out a deal. Please don’t kill him? I kinda like him. Liked him before the collar,” he added hurriedly, stepping back as if afraid Yngvi was going to flip out.

Took it on. For a moment, Vi wasn’t certain he wouldn’t do something stupid. Then he found a calm place and, very carefully, hugged his son. “All right,” he murmured, as reassuringly as he knew how. “I won’t kill him. But I would like to meet him.”

Crushed against Vi’s chest, his horns brushing his father’s hair, Siggie sounded like a child again. “You would’ve? If I didn’t want this? If I was stuck?”

“Siggie, I’d move the world to help you or your sisters. I’d ruin the world for you.” Yngvi smiled faintly at his only son. “So.”

Sig smiled cautiously. “So.”

Siggie from another point of view – by Inventrix, at the beginning of his first year of school.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/246906.html. You can comment here or there.

So I’ve Started Out

Jan27

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

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ.

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

And, of course, there was the falling. He wasn’t, he discovered, frightened of falling, but it hurt, and he liked to avoid the pain, not in the least because it made Sylvia tut-tut at him, which made him wriggle in uncomfortable ways and made Porter glower and sulk.

He wanted to ask his friend about that, but they didn’t seem to have a lot of time to talk. There was class – they had a couple in common, but there were always other people around. Then there were magic classes, and then sessions with their Mentors, and then they were in the suite that Sylvia had finagled for them, despite the objections of the Director’s secretary, who seemed to think that Arundel and the otter girl ought to be sharing a room.

He wasn’t entirely stupid. He’d seen other kids in their class Kept, just like Porter had. He’d seen the collars before Sylvia had put one on him, and he had some idea of how those relationships went, or at least how some of them went, controlling, uber-power-dichotomy sort of things that were still a lot like high school dating. But he wasn’t, as far as he could tell, dating Sylvia, and he wasn’t entirely certain why not.

Luke had said he could come to him with anything. Arundel wasn’t sure that this was the sort of thing he meant – the PE teacher seemed like the “how do I break the bully’s nose” or “how do I not fail math” sort of guy, but “anything” meant anything, and, besides, he wasn’t sure who else to ask. So, at the end of a long, exhausting flying session, stretching his shoulders and wings on the ground, Arundul cleared his throat and, very nervously, asked.

“Sir… this ‘Kept’ thing?”

Luke got an uncomfortable, gassy expression. “What about it?”

“It’s real? I mean… of course it’s real.” He could feel the effects. “But it’s okay?”

“Okay is relative,” Luke grunted. “But it’s allowed by school rules, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“This school is a little messed up, sir. Sorry…. but it is.”

“I’m not arguing.”

It looked like Luke would have been comfortable leaving the conversation there, and Arundel really couldn’t blame him for that. But he still had questions, and he had to start somewhere.

“The collar…?”

“That’s part of larger Ellehemaei society. Not required, but common. Tells other people ‘hands off.'”

“Okay, I can get that. But, um.” He pulled some grass unhappily. “Everyone else I see wearing a collar, they’re all, cuddled up to their… their owner?”

“Or Keeper.”

“To their Keeper. And a couple even say ‘my boyfriend’ or ‘my girlfriend,’ like they’re dating. And Sylvia…”

“Well, Sylvia’s always been a bit…” Luke paused, frowning. “Reserved. Ask her about it?”

Arundel blanched. “No, thank you!” He wasn’t scared of Sylvia. But she didn’t like questions a whole lot, and she didn’t like personal questions at all.

“Hunh, like that, is it?” Luke shook his head. “Do those stretches I showed you. I’ll think on it a little bit. But as to what you’re asking – it’s not always ‘dating,’ whatever that means this decade. It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“Ack.” The grass was very, very fascinating. “Ack,” he muttered again. “Okay. Um. Sorry I asked?”

Luke stood up. “Stretch. Worry about Sylvia on her time. And on my time, we’re going to go through those flight positions.”

Worry about Sylvia on her time. It seemed like reasonable advice, and also seemed less likely to get him assigned more push-ups for making his Mentor uncomfortable. Arundel waited until he was back in their suite, showered, dried, and patiently drying his wings before he went back to worrying about Sylvia, under the theory that time that wasn’t for classes or Luke belonged, for good or ill, to his Keeper.

He was still chewing it over when Sylvia walked into his room – she did that, without knocking, and he really couldn’t figure out how to complain – and started drying his wings for him. The touch felt, as her touch always did, nicer than it ought to, nicer than anything. “Sylvia,” he started cautiously. Half the time when he started talking, she just shushed him.

This time, she just said, in her so-very-mild neutral voice that left him a little anchorless, “Arundel?”

“Isn’t Keeping generally… I mean, doesn’t it usually sort of act like dating?”

“It often does,” she agreed, her neutral getting a little colder.

“But you and me…?” Why did Hayley think I’d need a shrink?

“You and I are not dating,” she answered, setting the towel down. “I would not force dating on you.”

He turned to look at her, folding his wings in. He was beginning to learn how to not hit people or low-lying objects or walls or irate professors with them, but only recently. He really, really didn’t want to hit her with his wings. Certainly not now.

“You wouldn’t… force… dating on me?” he repeated, carefully, to make sure he had heard her right. “You think it would be force?”

“I Own you,” she answered, stepping backwards a half-step. “I could tell you we were dating, and we would be. I could tell you to take your clothes off, and you would.”

He sat down on the bed with a thump. “Sylvia, you’re a pretty girl who’s been nice to me since you met me. You could tell me to take my clothes off without this Keeping thing, and I would.”

“But the Bond takes away your choice,” she explained, a little plaintively.

He shook his head, more than a little disbelieving. “Well… so does not asking me, wouldn’t you say?”

Next: Trying (LJ) (Arundel/Sylvia Year 8)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/246592.html. You can comment here or there.

Teasers for the Friendly Neighborhood Anonymous Prompt/Donor

Jan22

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

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

“Ow,” Arundel complained weakly.

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

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

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

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

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

Cost of Living

Jan10

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

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

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He seems to like the three of you.”

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

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

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

“I could protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fallen

Nov25

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt. Written in the fae apoc ‘verse, at the time of the apoc.

The Faerie Apoc Landing page is here (and on LJ)

Content warning: gore and implied implications.

As her people counted things, Alionda was rather young. She had seen her first century only a few years before the gates back into the human world opened up, and it was only through an accident that she managed to get through at all, much less as quickly as she did.

She had, however, fallen through one of the secondary gates that had opened when the rebels wrenched open the main doors – quite literally fallen, as this gate was several hundred feet above the ground.

The Ellehemaei body can survive many things that a human can not, but it still suffers from impact injuries, and the Word Tlacatl was not one Alionda the Water-Singer had much skill with. She lay there, at the bottom of a strange hole lined in grey rock, for several days, hungry, her lungs punctured, her body broken, unable to speak enough to form the Words to help heal herself, unable to do much more than hold herself together. She lay there, each breath agony, for an eternity, while around her the city moved and people shouted and clamored and somehow never saw her. If there was a hell, she had found it, below her heaven of Ellehem.

“What have we here? Lovely… and still alive.” Her eyes had flown open at the sound of a voice – a human voice, she was fairly certain. He looked human. He looked handsome. And he was smiling at her. “Are you an angel from the sky, or a demon?” He scooped her into his arms without seeming effort. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/185880.html. You can comment here or there.

W-T-F, a story of #Addergoole, for the Giraffe Call

Nov25

To [personal profile] lilfluff‘s commissioned prompt – a bit more of Uh-Oh (Lj) and Oh, Shit (LJ).

Raylan is the brother of a character in Addergoole.

The strange woman muttered a few more words under her breath and, like a stage magician’s trick, pulled her hands apart, revealing long strips of cloth. “Listen,” she murmured quietly. “Hold still and this won’t hurt. You have my word on that.”

She did someone else with her hands, making Ray’s ears pop. “You can talk, as long as you keep it quiet.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, not trying all that hard to be quiet.

“I’m wrapping you up so you have a harder time wriggling, what does it look like?” Indeed, she’d grabbed his ankles and started wrapping the cloth around him over his pants, twisting it firmly.

“Okay, I get that, but I mean, with me. Aside from the floating me in the air thing, which is, by the way, terrifying.”

“I thought that would be patently obvious. I’m kidnapping you.”

“Okay, okay.” He kicked his bound ankles in frustration. “Why? I mean, you said I wasn’t what you were looking for, but I’d do. Who were you looking for? Maybe I can help you? I know this neighborhood pretty well.”

“Well, I suppose it’s possible you know. There’s a young man who lives in this neighborhood. He was about five foot tall the last time I saw him, but that was several years ago; he’s probably grown. Blonde hair. Blue eyes, very blue eyes. Prone to broad shoulders and a nose that is going to make him look like a thug.”

“Curry?” he blinked at her. “You’re looking for Curry?” How could someone go looking for that lump of meat and think he’d do instead?

“Curry, ah yes, that would be his name. You know where he lives?” She’d gotten to his hips by now, wrapping with impersonal efficiency.

“I – yeah. Right down the street.” He turned to point, only to see his father running towards him. “Dad! DAD!” he shouted.

“Raylan! Ray…. Twyla?”

Dad knew this nutcase? “Dad?”

“Dave…?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/185834.html. You can comment here or there.

Oh, Shit, a story of #Addergoole, for the Giraffe Call

Nov24

To [personal profile] lilfluff‘s commissioned prompt – a bit more of Uh-Oh ().

Raylan is the brother of a character in Addergoole.

“None of that,” she smiled. “Stay quiet, and this won’t hurt much.”

Raylan stared at the crazy woman for a moment. Was she kidding? Was she just really insane? Batshit crazy, Dad would say, when he thought Ray wasn’t listening. Often about Mom, who Ray had never met. “Fuck that,” he muttered, and then, louder, as loud as he could, “fuck that! Fuck you! Help! Help! FIRE!” He struggled, even though he was floating in mid-air and wasn’t sure what good it would do, flailing with all four limbs, kicking and punching and shouting as loudly as he could.

He mostly had his eyes scrunched up, but when he peeked, the woman looked more than a little bit affronted. Good! He kicked again, and shouted, a little louder, “FIRE!!” as his foot actually connected with her shin, and then with her knee. “Damnit, someone!”

She muttered something else under her breath, and suddenly, he couldn’t hear his own voice. He kept shouting, trying not to panic, but it was hard when he was floating, either voiceless or deaf, in mid-air. He kicked harder, instead, connecting with her hip this time.

“That’s enough of that,” she snapped, reassuring him that he hadn’t lost his hearing. He kicked all the harder, until she backed away from him prudently. “Now,” she glared at him. “I did say something about it not hurting much, didn’t I?”

Raylan fell still, looking at her face. He hoped someone had heard him. He hoped they were coming soon.

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