Tag Archive | giraffecall: result

Sidekick

Apr6

For [personal profile] kelkyag‘s commissioned prompt.

The Aunt Family has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

“Were you taught about the archetypes?”

It wasn’t the question Evangaline had been expecting; it segued out of left field while she was still pondering the implications of someone leaving their family, of a son leaving the family.

“The tarot?” she offered, while she tried to remember things Asta and the others had mentioned to her. The archetypes, the archetypes… “No, no, not the tarot, but sometimes it seems similar. Something about the stories? Aunt Asta mentioned them, but she didn’t…”

“No, she wouldn’t have. I don’t believe she had the skill of seeing the stories. I wonder if you will.”

“I… don’t know. When Aunt Asta taught me about them, I had dreams…” Only Rosaria could make Eva feel this way, like she was being measured and judged against an invisible ruler. She shrugged, trying to shake off the elementary-school feeling. “In the Wizard of Oz, the way at the end Dorothy say ‘and you were there, and you, and you? That’s what it was like. Crazy dreams, with Uncle Arges as the Scarecrow.”

She gestured hurriedly with her free hand. “I don’t mean really the scarecrow. I mean, a sidekick, following another guy around. They were younger than I knew him, my age at the time, so late teens. I think I’d seen a picture of him at that age recently, one of the family shots? But this was much more vivid.”

“The Sidekick.” Rosaria made her “thinking” noise. “That would be Argie at that age. I don’t have the paintings with me, nor could you give them a proper look while you were driving, but the Sidekick is one of the archetypes we see a lot in our family. The Buddy. The support. That was Argie to Willard, every inch of the way. It’s what’s so tragic about the whole thing.”

More: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/534069.html
The whole story: http://lynthornealder.com/fiction/aunt-family

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/317663.html. You can comment here or there.

First Rose

Apr5

For Friendly Anon’s commissioned continuation of Twelve Roses and One

She’d heard the story her whole life. The rosebushes, the crazy Aunt that nobody wanted to admit was theirs, the twelve pink blossoms that got brighter for each daughter, the “true gift” they were supposed to receive on their sixteenth birthday.

She knew, too, that her parents had planned on stopping at four kids, or stopping after Harold, or stopping at any point that wasn’t almost-to-thirteen-children. She was fairly certain the gift had power… and she had known from a very young age that one ignore fairy gifts at one’s own peril.

So it was no surprise to her, or to the next three sisters down, when, on the dawn of her birthday, Alicia walked out to the rosebush and snipped the rose that her parents had always called “her rose.”

Her parents had been dithering. They were worried about what a “true gift” would be. They were concerned that there would be sort of booby trap. They were, she was pretty sure, concerned they might end up with a hundred and sixty-nine grandchildren spaced over thirty-something years.

None of that mattered. Alicia had decided as soon as she was old enough to remember making decisions that she would do what Aunt Edith had bade. She had planned to go out there, laid out the pruning shears…

..and then woke in the kitchen, silver blade in one hand and the rose in the other, as she placed it in the vase.

“Well.” Brandy, Celia, and Darla were watching her. “Did I…”

“Yup.” Darla looked a little spooked. “Do you remember…”

“Nothing.” She frowned at the flower. “I wonder what’s going to happen now.”

She watched the flower – they all did, including their rather-miffed parents – every day, staring for the first signs of roots. She ran her fingers over the stem every night before bed, wondering what was coming. It seemed as if she was waiting, holding her breath, like her birthday had been delayed for a flower.

The day her mother found out she was pregnant again, two months after Alicia’s birthday, the rose suddenly popped out roots all over the place.

“Of course,” Mom muttered, and pulled out a lovely pot and a bag of potting soil. “Come on, Alicia. Let’s get her planted.”

The rose went into the dirt like it was helping, grabbing at the dirt, sinking in as if relieved, even if Mom was glaring at it. They were all staring at it, Alicia, Dad, all ten of her sisters and her spoiled little brother. Waiting. Holding their breaths.

“What do you think…?” Ida whispered, but just at that moment, Alicia knew.

“Oh…” She reached out and let the thorns, the two thorns this rose had kept, near the bloom, pierce her fingers.

“Alicia!” Mom had gone from angry to horrified. “What have I told you about fairy gifts?”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Everything was going… well, not everything. But enough was going to be okay. “I understand now. I see it all now.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/317092.html. You can comment here or there.

Kiss-Kisses

Apr5

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of Damn List (LJ), All You Can Be (LJ), and Detente (LJ)

Addergoole has a landing page here.

Does anyone have any suggestions for Ahouva’s Changes? Or, for that matter, Jovanna’s?
“So.” Aeowyn and Jovanna sat down to either side of Ahouva in English class. “Kendon looks miserable.” Her snakelike friend was showing way too much tooth for comfort.

“More importantly.” Jovanna closed in Ahouva in a flurry of excess skirt. “You look happy. Smiling, for real. Your color’s back. You’re smiling again.”

“Your shoulders aren’t hunched. You’re wearing better clothes.” Aeowyn plucked at the sleeve of Ahouva’s sweater. “I love this colour on you. What, did Kendon not approve?”

“Guyyyys.” She folded her arms across her chest and tried not to smile at them. “So you’re saying I was dumpy, grumpy, lumpy and dull when Kendon was Keeping me?” She kept her voice down out of habit, not wanting him – or his friends – to overhear her talking about him. Even now.

“We’re saying… well, yes. You were miserable, misdrawn, and misadvised. Possibly misfiled as well.” Jovanna patted her shoulder. “But nobody was blaming you, Who. We’re all happy to see you away from him.”

“And happier to see that Basalt isn’t horrible.” Aeowyn had a skill for bluntness. “You’re not bruised, you’re sleeping, and you’re eating. All good signs.”

“I’m not a prize horse,” she muttered, but the smile wouldn’t stay down. “Guys, he’s pretty awesome.”

“That’s not what you were saying at first.” Jovanna sat back and muttered under her breath – some sort of Working. “Are you sure you’re really happy?”

“Stop it, Jo. Tuapeka Intinn Ahouva oro’Basalt a Jovanna cy’Solomon. You just said I looked happier.”

“So what did he do?” Aeowyn leaned over Ahouva to thwap Jovanna. “Friends do not read friends’ minds.”

Ahouva found her cheeks warming. She bit her lip. “He kissed me,” she whispered.

“Kendon did a lot more than…” It was Jo’s turn to hit Aowyn. “I’m just saying.”

“He asked first.”

“Aaaaah.”

“Was it a good one?” Jo looked like she wanted to take notes. “Was it just a kiss, or a kiss-kiss, or…”

“What, we’re categorizing these things scientifically now?”

“It was a kiss-kiss. A really good kiss-kiss-kiss.”

“Three kisses.” Aeowyn’s laugh made Ahouva cringe a little bit. “Oh, relax, I’m happy for you. Do you think you two will move past just kissing, however many kissies you add to it?”

“Welllll…” She really didn’t want to admit she’d been thinking about that almost constantly since the first kiss. “I’d like to. But I’m worried he’s going to, you know…”

From the look on Aeowyn’s face, she did know. From the tch’ Jovanna made, she knew, too. “Who, this is Addergoole. High school rules don’t apply.”

“Exactly. If he’s respecting you enough to make it a choice, I think you’re fine.” Aeowyn didn’t talk about her Keeper. She’d made that abundantly clear – Jovanna still had the bite-mark scars. This was as close as talking about being Kept as she would get, analyzing Ahouva’s relationships. For the first time, Ahouva didn’t really mind.

“He’s really nice, when he relaxes.” She thought about the way he held her, when he wasn’t worrying about her broken windows. “I think he could be a lot of fun… all the way relaxed.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/316567.html. You can comment here or there.

And Out, a drabble of Reiassan for the March Giraffe Call

Apr2

For [personal profile] kelkyag‘s commissioned prompt

This story comes after:Meat of the Matter (LJ)
Bare Bones (LJ) [Beta]
Skeleton Key (LJ) [donor perk] and Ambush (LJ)

Reiassan has a landing page here.

Rin hopped out of the window, but not so fast that she couldn’t catch the expression on Girey’s face. It made her smile, the sudden panic of being caught out, the further embarrassment at being thanked for it.

She got out of the way and let him hop after her while she scouted the area. The path to the stables was clear; indeed, there was nobody in the courtyard at all.

“We’ve got to go before they figure out we went through the window,” Girey hissed. “These people don’t want to buy you breakfast, Lady Healer.”

“I’m aware.” His concern was touching, his assumption she didn’t know how to handle herself less so. “If this is how you talk to all women, no wonder you don’t have any in your army.” She kept it a half-voiced mutter; he was right. “Come on.” She kept her hand on her sword hilt, her eyes alert for intruders, and still she almost missed the stable boy that stepped out of the shadows.

“Leaving without paying your bill?” he hissed. “A fine lady like yourself? We can take the man as payment, if your purse is empty, Lady Healer.”

If one more person sneered her title, she was going to grow irritated. She reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of coins. She took a quick glance at them to be sure the price was high enough, and pressed the pile of money into the stable-boy’s hands. “That should cover it. And your rooms aren’t nearly worth what my captive is.” It was a ridiculous thing to add, sleeplessness her only excuse. “Our mounts?”

The boy was still staring at the money. “One moment, one moment.” He hurried to the back of the stable, coming back quickly with three saddled goats. “Here you go, your Ladyship, sir. Reiassannon guide your travels.”

“And yours,” Rin answered. There were sounds coming from the inn; they’d noticed they were missing, then. “Speed on the road,” she added, and mounted. Behind her, Girey was doing the same. They put heels to their sleepy mounts’ flanks and were gone.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/313397.html. You can comment here or there.

Safe House, a half-story

Mar31

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt.

After The Life You Make (LJ) and Memories (LJ), and directly after Company (LJ)

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

“Aly,” he called, and gestured for the third of his employees to guard the kids. Viatrix didn’t have the kill-the-trouble-now face on, but she did look worried.

“What is it… hunh.” The two women in the doorway tickled half a memory for him. He’d seen their faces before, somewhere, the taller one more than the shorter one.

“Oh, hell no.” The taller one was carrying blades. Four of them. The shorter one was carrying a single rapier. “I heard that this was a safe house. That was a bad joke, right?”

Viatrix looked between the two women, and back to Baram. “He doesn’t remember you,” she explained. “He doesn’t remember much at all longer than a year ago.”

He remembered that look on people’s faces, though. Monster. Creature. Kill it. Not the one that replaced that – anger with no target, loss, confusion. “He doesn’t remember?” She turned to face him directly, still keeping her body between the shorter girl and him. “You don’t remember me? You raped me and you don’t remember me? I have your SON and you don’t remember me?”

“Callie,” the shorter girl murmured, “not on the street, okay?”

He looked the two girls over, and noted the children in the car. “Not on the street. I promise, if you don’t attack me, I will offer you no harm while you’re in my house. Come in.” Raped her. Had he? Monster. Creature. Kill him.

The two visitors shared a look, and then the taller one, Callie, Callie, he almost remembered a Callie, looked at Viatrix. “Does he speak for you?”

“If you don’t harm me or mine, I promise I won’t harm you or yours,” Via shrugged. “He’s my employer, not my Keeper.”

“You stay here of your own free will?” That was the short one this time, staring at Viatrix.

Via wasn’t Jaelie, but she could read a situation, better than Baram could. She stepped out of the way, letting the two women into his cave. “He keeps us and our kids safe. I guess we are a safe house, if you come down to it.”

Safe house. Baram couldn’t help a smile. The monster ran a safe house.

Next: Signal Fire

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/312898.html. You can comment here or there.

Heroes, a story of the Aunt Family for the March Giraffe Call

Mar31

For [personal profile] jjhunter‘s commissioned Prompt.

A continuation of “Tell me a Story,” (LJ), “Princesses, Knights, and the Huntsman” (LJ), The Princess and the Huntsman (LJ), and Princesses (LJ).

The Aunt Family has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

The princess had been the first painting Estebana, Adam, and Anselma had shown Rosaria, first because many young girls dreamed of being princesses, first because, as Anselma had said, in her dry, always-amused voice, “this can be the most dangerous of the stories, for everyone involved. Remember that, Rosaria.”

She had, of course. She’d remembered it when Aunt Estebana had told her the story of her Hero, and gone instead for the Farmer, for her Ned. Ned had been a steady man, a serious man, a reliable man.

Roasaria was careful to never tell her own children, he own grandchildren, not to go after the Hero or the Prince or the Knight. Let them learn on their own, not live their whole lives wishing for something they hadn’t had, the flash of blue eyes and a charming smile.

The Hero. That painting had been stacked sideways against two others, the Prince and the Knight. “These can come after this one, or be part of him, or be completely aside from it,” Estebana had explained to a baffled young Rosa. “We start with the Hero. Many boys start here, as many girls start with her.” Her dismissive gesture had taken in the pretty girl with her tiara as if she was a speck of dust or a bad idea.

“The Hero.” Grandma Anselma’s voice was steady, always steady, always smiling. “He’s a nice one. See him like this, his sturdy chestplate and his long sword. See him when you see a fireman on TV, a soldier coming home from war. This is the one who will protect you. That’s his goal and his shining quest, to protect, to rescue.”

Adam never spoke, but he spoke now, his finger hovering over the painting. “That’s the ding in his armor, the crack there, the dent there. That’s what he takes for the protection. That’s the strength he needs to protect, there in his muscles, there in his sword.”

“There’s a hole in his armor,” young Rosa had pointed out.

There’s a place you can hurt him, a much older Rosaria understood.

“There is,” Adam agreed. “Every Hero has that. Never forget that, Rosa.”

“And him?” At the time, a hole hadn’t seemed all that interesting, nor had the way her aunt and grandma weren’t saying anything seemed significant. The man in the back corner of the drawing, the second face of the Hero.

Aunt Essie smiled. “Ah, him. That’s the Father. Like your father, Rosa, he’s a hero, protecting his family, keeping them safe and warm and fed.”

“Why isn’t there a girl Hero?” The young Rosa had found that very unfair. Princesses were pretty and nice, but she wanted to be a hero, with a sword. She wanted to protect her younger sisters and stab bad guys and her armor would be shiny.

“Aaah.” Essie shook her head. “There are, of course, women who protect, girls who fight and rescue. But they are not Heroes, or Knights, any more than boys are Princesses. That is not how the story goes.”

Rosaria smiled through the decades at her long-gone aunt, and shared a memory of a knowing look with her cousin Adam. Stories, she knew, changed. People changed. And if she wanted to, she could be her own Hero, even now.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/312669.html. You can comment here or there.

Company, a half-story

Mar29

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt; half a story but it was too good an ending point not to cut it there.

After The Life You Make (LJ) and Memories (LJ)

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

Baram was surrounded by children and women, up to his neck in high-pitched voices and drowning of it.

He wanted to go to the car shop. People were still trying to live ordinary lives out there, and they still needed cars fixed. But Jaelie was out for… the calendar said four more days, taking Swish to Addergoole. And there were monsters all around. Real monsters. People who had threatened his home, his vassals, his neighborhood. So here he was, up to his neck in children playing – he was pretty sure – Monsters and Fairies.

If he had to take twenty more minutes of this, Baram was going to start wishing for more monsters. He made his scary-face at a child running by too closely, and scooped it up, swinging it around airplane style. “Rarr, Rarr,” he mock-growled. The kid shrieked and screamed happily, and ran off giggling. Baram scowled more fiercely, hiding a small smile. Kids were fun… in short doses. Not for a week at a time. Not this many kids.

The doorbell rung. He looked up, noticed the kids going into drill mode like they’d been taught, clearing out of the living room, moving back into the kitchen and down into the basement. He caught the smallest three and handed them to the biggest three as Viatrix got the door.

“Boss,” she called uncertainly, “I think this is for you.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/312898.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/311859.html. You can comment here or there.

Hooked, a drabble of Rin & Girey for the March Giraffe Call

Mar28

For [personal profile] kelkyag‘s commissioned prompt.

Reiassan has a landing page here.

After Sun-on-the-Water (LJ)

“Sun-on-the-water?” Girey asked, when he was pretty sure they were alone.

“A marriage,” she answered in Bitrani, “between people of decidedly different statuses. Or an informal ‘marriage,’ the sort where you say you’re married when the children come, or after you’ve been living together for a while.”

“Your people have the strangest turns of speech.” He was clearly chewing over the implications, however. That was probably a good thing, right?

“Colorful,” she joked, “like everything here. The Bithrain have a few interesting idioms, too.”

“We’re a much more practical people,” he answered. The lightness in his voice fell flat against his expression. “Decidedly different statuses. Is that us?”

“It could be. It does not need to be.” She leaned against the wall, studying him. “A lot of it depends on people like my Uncle Esnees, and on what’s going on with Elin.”

“You’re considering marrying me.”

“You brought the matter forward.”

“I…” He looked startled. “I did. I was trying to distract your uncle.”

“Well, it worked.” She couldn’t help a smile. “You distracted all of us. But if you decide you find the idea repellent, I can certainly convince the family that Uncle Esnees misunderstood. You haven’t committed to a wedding, of any sort.”

“If I find the idea repellent?” He was looking even more thoughtful. Rin was starting to worry. “And what about you?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/311228.html. You can comment here or there.

Fred, a vignette of Tir na Cali Slave School for the March Giraffe Call

Mar27

For illfluff‘s Prompt. After this vignette (lj)

Fred woke up strapped down in a hospital bed, with a nurse on one side and Jenny on the other side. Both were frowning at him. As signs went, it wasn’t the best.

He tried the restraints, not with any real force. He didn’t want to spook anyone. He really didn’t want to spook Jenny.

He worked his jaw, a bit surprised he wasn’t gagged. Then again, it hadn’t been his mouth that had gotten them in trouble.

“Fred,” Jenny said. Sobbed. “Fred, why…?”

“I…” he glanced at the nurse; she nodded.

“Go ahead, you’re not standing on protocol with me.”

“Thank you.” He reached his closer hand towards Jenny. “I’m sorry. He just got me so mad. He’s always making those stupid comments, you know…”

“He makes them to everyone. He thinks he’s better than the rest of us because he fights it. But Fred! They’re going to punish you for this. You know they are.”

“I know. I really tried not to. But… he just hit one button too many.”

“Your fighting skills are admirable.” That was from the doorway: Mr. Thurston, their home ec teacher. “But your lack of control is not. Steve backed up your story, by the way, which will mitigate your punishment. Thank you, Jennifer, back to your room now.” He hesitated, and added kindly, “I promise, if we send Fred away, we’ll give you a chance to say goodbye first.”

She swallowed another sob and fled, leaving Fred alone in the room with the teacher.

“And now the question remains,” Mr. Thurston continued, sitting down in the chair Jenny had vacated, “whether we send you away or not.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/310355.html. You can comment here or there.