Tag Archive | giraffecall: result

Humanity, a continuation of Dragons next Door for the January Giraffe Call

Mar11

For [personal profile] anke‘s commissioned continuation of Parent-Teacher Conference (LJ). Have no fears, there is twice this again in the queue to write!

Dragons next Door has a landing page here.

Audrey watched the woman’s expression, her hands, the way one long curl of her hair was trembling like a seismometer. She waited for a count of three, and then, because she wasn’t sure she trusted her own voice, she counted to three again.

“You seem to be under the impression that Juniper is completely human.” She used “completely” not for clarity, but because it clouded the issue. There were many human-hybrids out there, not many by percentages, perhaps, but enough that 20/20 had done specials on them, enough that most people had heard of someone who had met one.

In her line of work, Audrey had met more than one. Possibly more than a hundred; there were some she wasn’t sure of. Whatever the tv shows liked to suggest, one couldn’t always tell that someone was non-human by looking at them.

“And how would you have come to that impression, mmm?” Sage asked, seeming to, as he often did, read Audrey’s mind.

“She looks human,” Miss Milligan whispered. She stared at her tea in concern. “She looked like a normal little girl.”

“Except the overactive imagination,” Audrey pointed out sweetly. “Now, Juniper is a very imaginative young lady. She enjoys flights of fantasy and make-believe as much as the next child. But, Miss Milligan, there is a difference between that and making up stories.“

The teacher looked up at them with a bit of steel. “Are you telling me, then, that your daughter has actually had dinner with ogres? That she babysits a dragon?”

“Yes, and yes.” Audrey raised an eyebrow. “Did she tell you about the time she slept over with the Harpy hatchlings? Smokey Knoll is a diverse neighborhood, Miss Milligan, as you clearly already know.”

“Yes, yes,” the teacher frowned, leaning forward. “I do have students here from some of the more… easily integrated races.”

Audrey smirked, reading “easily integrated” as “fits in a student-sized desk.” “I’m aware. So why the surprise? We’ve told you we live in Smokey Knoll.”

“You let your daughter spend time with ogres!” the woman exploded. “They are one of the most dangerous races around, and you willingly brought your daughter within their grasp! If Juniper was human – and I don’t entirely believe you that she’s not – I’d be calling child protective services on you! Babysitting dragons, indeed. Are you trying to get her killed?”

“There are plenty,” Sage answered quietly, “that would willingly do that. And plenty who protect her. The Smiths – those would be the dragons – as well as the tribe of ogres, the Euton, who used to be our neighbors, and, more than once, the harpies down the road, have each stopped or put off a hunter who was seeking to harm one of our three children.”

Audrey picked up the thread. “I can’t think of a safer place for our children to be than in the protection of the dragons next door.”

The woman shook her head, clearly out of her league. “It doesn’t seem right. But then again, none of this does.”

Audrey raised an eyebrow. This might prove interesting. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I used to know,” Miss Milligan sighed, “what was real, and what wasn’t. Now I don’t have a clue.”

“Well, then,” Sage smirked. “Ignorance is a good first step.”

Next: Human Town (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/298029.html. You can comment here or there.

Unicorn-Chaste, a story of the Unicorn/Factory for the February Giraffe Call

Mar9

For flofx‘s commissioned prompt, a continuation of
Unicorn Chase (LJ) and Unicorn Chased (LJ).

Unicorn Factory has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

I have a feeling this one needs a content warning.

Infe noticed the changes in her daughter, as the unicorns filled the village.

At first, Felfen lit up, becoming happy in a way she hadn’t since Infe and Fennix had taken jobs at the Factory. She began making more friends, her skin turned brown with the sun and her hair bleached fairer, and she smiled, all the time, she smiled.

Infe smiled more, too, and Fennix did, proud that their daughter was helping the Town and the Factory, proud that she was becoming a valuable member of the community. More than that pride, though, they were happy that their flower was blooming again, that their lovely daughter was smiling and playing again.

And then something started happening.

Infe wasn’t sure, at first. Felfen was at that age where girls could be smiling one moment, crying the next, and shouting with rage the next. The frowns could have been passing thunderstorms. The worry lines could have been a friend speaking unkindly to her. The smiles were still there, at least. She was still spotting unicorns…

…at first. When Felfen started letting Angwe, a year younger than her, take the credit for the unicorn spottings, Infe knew something was wrong. She took her twenty minutes on lunch one day, and walked out in the Town, to see what was going on.

There. There was Infe’s daughter, the jewel of her life, sneaking across the market square, and there, there was a shadow Infe couldn’t quite see, and Felfen blanching.

“Leave me alone,” the girl muttered, backing towards the fountain. “Leave me alone. I won’t tell them, anymore, but why won’t you just go away? Please?”

Infe didn’t know what the unicorn did, but her daughter backed up until her legs hit the low wall of the fountain’s surround. “Please, please. I don’t know why you’re following me. I don’t know…”

For one moment, one moment of horrible, awful clarity, Infe could see the unicorn. It stood at the shoulder almost as tall as a man, and its horn was long, and pristine white, its hooves golden, its tangled tail and mane streaked with the same gold color.

And its horn was leveled straight at Felfen.

Infe screamed. Across the square, someone else took up the panic, and someone else. They could all, it seemed, see the creature. And they were all terrified for Infe’s daughter.

Only she, Felfen, staring at the creature, seemed calm. Frozen in terror? No. Infe made herself calm down, and walked, as quietly as she could towards her daughter. Not frozen, but ready.

“I understand,” the girl whispered. The look in her eyes… Infe remembered that look on her own face, many many years ago in a wedding bed. “I’m ready.”

“Fel…” but it was too late. The unicorn was piercing her daughter with its horn, the blood dripping into the fountain, staining it red, staining Felfen’s dress red. Her daughter’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell into the water.

And the unicorn was gone from Infe’s vision, the water pure and clear, and Felfen, un-wounded, floated like a lily in the fountain pool.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/297419.html. You can comment here or there.

Family Vintage, a story of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call @anke

Mar8

For [personal profile] anke‘s prompt. Faerie Apocalypse has a landing page here here (and on LJ).

After On the River

The current owner of the house Gannon had built was a handsome man, except his family resemblance to Gannon, with a lovely wife and two teenaged children. He was, as most of Gannon’s descendants were, willing to open up his house – borrowed house, he called it, which was kind – to his ancestor.

And, unlike many of his ancestors – they’d known better, Gannon thought with wry amusement – this one, Steve, was willing to open his liquor cabinet and his wine cellar, too, once the kids were sent upstairs.

He pulled out a case of wine so old, the crate itself was fading and the flag only had thirteen stars. “Do you remember this?”

Gannon squinted at it. “Damn, damn, just barely, but I do. I brought that back to… to my granddaughter. Bramble. I wonder where she is now.”

“Me, too,” Steve admitted. “Grandma Bramble stopped by once, when I was about eight. She’s less regular than you are, I’m told.” He pulled out a bottle. “Three left. Seems an occasion to open one.”

“It must be weird,” Gannon commented, as Steve’s wife Phen opened the bottle with an expert twist, “being haunted by your ancestors still living.”

“I always figured it was the curse of being Ellehemaei?” Steve shrugged. He held out three glasses in two hands for his wife to pour, a comfortable, easy partnership clear in their movements. “I mean, isn’t it?”

Gannon shrugged, staring at the old crate of wine. “There was a whole box there, when I dragged that back here.” He didn’t want to think about the family that had kicked him out, so long ago that the land they sent him to barely had a name.

“Yeah.” Steve grinned. “It’s pretty awesome stuff, so it’s been, I’m told, special-occasion wine. Really special occasion. So we don’t break it out often.”

He sniffed the wine. It smelled as good as he remembered, and better. The vintner, he remembered the vintner, half grapevine herself. He wondered if he had any kids with her.

He sipped again. “I’ve visited before.” They’d never opened out the old stuff before… although it had been Steve’s father, or his great-grandfather, before.

But Steve was just grinning. “Never in time to witness the birth of a grandchild.”

Gannon sputtered, and then, staring at them, drank the wine. It really was a good vintage, after all.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/296597.html. You can comment here or there.

Roses, a story of Stranded World for the Giraffe Call (@inventrix)

Mar8

For [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt.

This comes after South Like Medea’s Toga and Horse’s Mouth and before Fishing.

Stranded World has a landing page here.

“Well, according to Wikipedia, a violet rose means love at first sight. The other websites seem to agree.” Kirstin frowned at her laptop, and then back at the flower. “You got a love at first sight rose from a secret admirer.”

“What’s going on?” Basil stuck his head in the door. “Ooh, nice flower, Sum. Finally over Brigit?”

“Someone thinks I am,” Summer answers. “Or thinks I ought to be, since they clearly have an intention.”

“No name?” Basil shrugged. “Stick it in a vase and call it good. If they want you to know, they’ll tell you eventually.”

“When did you turn into a pragmatist?” Kirstin complained.

“After Kim,” he answered shortly. They changed the subject, Summer dropped the rose in a vase, and they moved on with their day.

…until the blue rose showed up the next day, and Kirstin opened up her laptop again.

“Mystery. No, really? And the unattainable? So he’s in love with you but can’t have you? Well, not if he doesn’t say anything.”

“He will,” Basil grumbled. “Dinner?”

By the third day, Basil was glaring daggers at the flower. “He wants to take you to St. Patty’s day? He’s a bit early.”

“Green, green. Abundance, fertility, and envy. I’m not sure I like this guy, Sum,” Kirstin complained.

“I think it’s sort of sweet.” She added the green one to the vase with the blue and purple, and moved on with her day.

None of them were surprised by the yellow rose on Friday – wealth and success, Kirstin read, which Basil snorted at.

“He loves you, can’t have you, wants to knock you up and make you rich. Sounds like every sweet-talker everywhere, but this one can’t even be arsed to write you a poem.”

Summer silently vowed to kick Kim’s perfect ass, and went to dinner.

Saturday’s orange rose appeared to mean “desire and passion,” which, as Kirstin pointed out, they’d probably already figured out by now. Summer came up with a bigger vase, and arrayed the flowers in order.

She didn’t leave her room Sunday morning, but a red rose still mysteriously appeared, hanging in a bag on her doorknob. As they studied the array of flowers, Basil laughed shortly.

“She loves you gayly, maybe?”

Staring at the rainbow, and the pride flag hung behind it, Summer had to laugh.

“I guess she does. Okay, that wins.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/295616.html. You can comment here or there.

Right and Wrong, , a continuation of the Unicorn/Factory for the January Giraffe Call (@anke)

Mar8

After The Grey Line (lj), Productive, and The Governors (LJ), for [personal profile] anke‘s commissioned Prompt.

Part Three of Three

Unicorn Factory has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

Antheri’s desk was somewhere between a mess ans a complete loss. The man had kept everything visible so tidy, Guilian had, naturally, he thought, assumed that the files would be just as orderly.

But the employee files, the production notes, the construction plans, the purchasing and selling paperwork, all of it was jammed haphazardly into cabinets, with labels that made no sense: “Castorry,” “Engaran,” “Tibinibit,” and so on, all in Antheri’s careful copperplate.

It was young Santha, Myrlo the engineer’s daughter, who suggested they could be names. “You said,” she suggested, when he conscripted her to help him sort out the mess, “that he’d been screaming about the governors?”

“He had,” Guilian agreed. That had been bothering him more and more. How long had Antheri been going mad? Worse… had it all been madness?

“Maybe these are the names he thought the governors were called? I heard him, sometimes, muttering to himself,” she added, “and sometimes he’d call me in to take dictation… here.” She pulled out a wide folder full of very tidy notes. “These are mine. I don’t think they make any sense, but they are at least legible.”

He noted that, unlike many of the workers, Santha seemed neither fascinated by or bothered by the young unicorn foal that was still following him around; she fed it, like one would any pet or working animal, and otherwise left it alone. She had come highly recommended as a practical, level-headed young woman, but her reaction to the unicorn made him wonder.

“Do you see it?” he asked, apropos to nothing, as they were still looking at her file of notes.

She was either used to dealing with strange comments out of nowhere, working with Antheri as she had, or she was used to oblique references to unicorns, living in the Town as she did. “I do,” she admitted. “It’s very pretty, but the unicorns frighten me.”

“And why’s that?” he asked, trying to be gentle. The unicorns had frightened Antheri, too.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with her own sky-blue gaze. She had, the Administrator was startled to realize, a very piercing, uncomfortable gaze.

“My mother was from a Village, Administrator. The unicorns… they purify the water, of course. But everything has a price.” She took the folder back from him, and flipped through the notes. “Here. Read this. Antheri might be mad, but there were things he understood very well.”

Guilian sat down at his former assistant’s desk and began reading. After a while, he looked up, to find Santha still tidying papers into files, and still watching him. “If a third of this is true…”

“At least a third of it is true,” she confirmed quietly. “Why do you think the Villages hate the town?”

“I don’t know, I thought, the pollution, the people we steal for the factory…”

“All that. All that and everything else,” she murmured. “But what choice does the Town have?”

“Antheri thought none.” He studied the notes. “He thought the governors…”

“Yes. He thought that they demanded sacrifice. And he believed that they would take a higher toll if he didn’t give them what they wanted.”

“And he was right about the unicorns.”

“And he was right about the unicorns,” she agreed. Her eyes seemed to be boring through him.

“What if,” Guilian whispered, “he was right about everything?”

Next: Cleaning House

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/294965.html. You can comment here or there.

Admirer, a story of Stranded World for the February Giraffe Call

Mar7

For [personal profile] kc_obrien‘s prompt.

Stranded World has a landing page .

“I do not know what this is.”

Winter frowned at the glass rose that had appeared in his office mail cube; behind him, Latricia laughed.

“It’s a rose. It’s not going to bite you.”

“It must be a mistake.” His frown deepened; being laughed at by his sisters was one thing, but he didn’t like it when his co-workers did it.

“Honey, it’s a blue rose with frosted tips. If that’s not for you, somebody’s trying to send Cathy Rodin a really mean message.”

At that, he couldn’t help but smile a little. “A frosty flower.” It would be accurate for Cathy, but… “This is the third thing in two weeks, Latricia. I sincerely doubt that they were all for Cathy.”

“The little tree thing, right? Yeah, that was probably you. And the gift card to the café down the road? Cathy’s a Starbucks girl.”

“I do not think the Library is doing a ‘Secret Santa’ sort of thing,” he offered, hoping that was it. Sometimes people, uncomfortable around him – Autumn would laugh at him for that, Of course you make people uncomfortable. You’re so stiff I could use you as a straight edge. – left him out of company social events.

But Latricia was laughing again. “Not in September, nobody’s that crazy. Honey, you have yourself a secret admirer.” She looked at the frosty rose. “And a rather perspicacious one at that.”

Winter studied the flower, too, feeling more lost than he was comfortable with. “People don’t like me like that, Latricia. People hardly like me at all.”

She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “Honey, you need to look at books less and people more. You’re missing things in plain sight.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/294815.html. You can comment here or there.

What You Need

Mar6

For @inventrix’s commissioned continuation of

Part 7-7.5 of 7.5

Mr. Ting was beginning to creep me out and, what was more, I was worried Mt. Jordan was going to blow any minute now. “We really need an AC unit,” I put in, trying not to stare at the silver whatsits. Or the tin with the tentacle thing on it. “An air conditioner. We have a kid at home, and cats and rats…”

“Already taken care of.” He smiled benevolently at us. “A new unit has been delivered to your doorstep. What is more, in your absence, Ashton and Taylor are installing it – and cleaning the window.”

Jordan stared at him. “You can’t know that.”

“Aaah. That may be. But what also is, is that I do know it. And when you return home, you will see that these things have happened.” He patted Jordan’s shoulder, and somehow came back with all his fingers. “And that is all right. But that is only what your household needed, no? That is not what the two of you, what J.J .and Jordan, and J.J.-and-Jordan, need, is it?”

“There is no J.J.-and-Jordan,” we both said hurriedly. The tiny man only smiled.

“There may not be a romantic relationship. You do not look at each other as if you are having a romance. But you are here together because there is a together, no? You are living in your house of complications because there is a friendship, a something-more?”

We shared a look, and it was Jordan who looked away, but me who spoke.

“There’s an us, like that,” I agreed. “Friends. Just… just friends.”

“Indeed,” he smirked. “‘Just’ friends. It is a good thing to have, ‘just’ friends, like Mrs. Gent and I. And do you believe me, J.J.?”

Did I believe him? That was a very good question. “It seemed ridiculous. It seems unbelievable. Far-fetched, at the very least – Ashton setting up anything?” I smirked at him. “Compared to that, you psychically delivering an AC to our house seems entirely reasonable.”

He bowed, like the stereotype that had been in my mind when I first walked in here. “Then allow Mr. Ting to continue to provide what you need.”

“What will it cost us?” Jordan asked again, a little less sharply.

He shook his head, and patted her shoulder again. “Mr. Ting sometimes needs things too. Actual things, mind you. Radios. Cathelyubra. Paperwork. You will come across something that it will look like the store could use. That’s the cost.”

“That’s it?” That was me, this time. “For the AC?”

“The Air Conditioner – that, your roommates paid for in cash and a third of a chocolate cake. It was a very good cake. No, you will bring things back to the store in payment for what I will give you now.”

That sounded ominous. More ominous was the sound of the building shaking and thudding again. A shelf twisted and turned, and we were on the section labeled “P.”

“You will need these.” He passed us each a rucksack that seemed loaded to the top. “And here is your exit.”

“Thank you?” I had turned to put on my backpack, and when I turned back, the little man was gone and in his place was the exit. “Well.”

“Well.” Jordan looked at me, looked at the door, and walked through. “Let’s go… oh.”

“Oh?” I’d followed her through, on her heels like always; now she stepped aside so I could see.

See the island we were suddenly standing on, see the stream meandering through, the grass purple, the water green. See the string of islands off the shore to the left, at least thirteen of them. See the creature fishing the stream, holding the pole in two of its fourteen feet.

See the door behind us close, just in time to hear it click and watch it vanish.

“…Oh.” I tried to pretend I wasn’t excited, and hoped Jordan would forgive me for this new quest.

~fin~

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/294259.html. You can comment here or there.

Re-Engineered, for the Giraffe Call (@shutsumon)

Mar6

For [personal profile] becka_sutton‘s prompt, after Engineered

“Hey, Liam, I think I figured something out.”

Cara and Alex tensed. Ever since Jason had defected, the Boss had been miserable. It wasn’t Namae Sauter’s fault, but since she’d gotten Jason’s workstation, she’d also gotten all of his blame.

(Nobody could actually do anything to Jason, short of a tac nuke, and they weren’t entirely sure that would work, either. After his roses had eaten two recovery teams, they’d stopped trying).

Liam limped over to her desk, his cane thudding the deck angrily. “What do you have, Sauter?” he snarled.

“I think I’ve figured out the formula Jason was working on in his spare time. Not the roses – they’re a mess – but the reverse-aging one?”

The Boss softened barely-perceptibly. “I wondered what he’d been doing. So what’s in the formula?”

She swirled a beaker full of a viscous red-purple fluid. “Blood of grape and juice of girl.”

“Blood of… ah, Sauter, have you been working overtime? I think you’re mixing your words.”

“Not exactly.” She opened the curtains to her greenhouse; Cara and Alex saw Liam’s flinch, but he managed to hide it from Namae. Inside, a few rose-like vines writhed, but more than that, there were grapevines.

Grapevines? They seemed to be something like fingers…

“Unknowable formulae,” Cara breathed reverently. “Alex…”

“That’s a dryad. She’s made a dryad…. a grape dryad?”

The girl in the case looked, he thought, sad. Wistful, maybe, reaching for the glass. And tapped.

“Technically, it’s sap,” Namae was saying. “She doesn’t bleed, though her fruit seems to. But the formula works on rats, and I’m ready to start orphan testing.”

“Beakers and tubes,” Liam swore. “I…”

Cara and Alex shared a look. Had their boss found an ethical limit? They hadn’t known it was possible.

“I think it might cure cancer, too,” Namae added, and, with a quiet sigh, The Boss passed out.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/293847.html. You can comment here or there.

On the Adriatic, a story of Fae Apoc Apoc for the February Giraffe Call (@Rix_Scaedu)

Mar6

For Rix_Scaedu‘s prompt.

Fae Apoc has a landing page here

“Well.”

January and Hugo stared off the bow of their boat at the sea in front of them. The Adriatic was churning wildly, the waves shaking their little craft. And, in the center of the sea, a hole seemed to be ripping open. When Hugo had called Jan up to the bow, the hole had been a half a meter wide. Now, it was three meters in diameter and growing. Worse, something… something was peeking through.

“I should get the others.” His sister slipped back into the cabin, her tail swishing unhappily. He didn’t blame her. They had been doing so well out here with their little operation, and this… whatever this was, this was going to interfere.

By the time Jan got back with Lyslotta and Abigail, the hole was about five meters wide, had stopped growing, and was causing some difficulty to the… thing… trying to get through, since that looked to be just a tad wider than the hole.

“Is that a dragon?” Abigail whispered.

“I don’t know,” Hugo had to admit. “I mean, it looks like the front end of a Chinese dragon, but I didn’t know Chinese… Dragons… existed.” He tried to make “Dragon” sound different than “dragon,” but from the giggle that came from behind him, he was pretty sure he failed.

“I don’t think it knows we’re here, yet,” Lysa added. “Are we, you know… leaving?”

“Slowly,” he agreed, shifting the sails and beginning to tack away from the monster. “Backing away slowly.”

“Hugo…” Jan was pointing, so he looked; to their starboard, another portal was opening up.

“Well,” he sighed, “there goes the end of our days of wine and roses in the Adriatic.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/293561.html. You can comment here or there.

Pantry

Mar6

For [personal profile] eseme‘s prompt.

“What do we have left?”

Henry stared at their pantry. The winter was nearly over, true, but not nearly enough, and nobody had expected that the blizzard – if blizzard it really was – would be so heavy, so long, or block any sort of travel so completely. They hadn’t left their house in three weeks. He tried not to think too hard about the neighbors. He hadn’t heard from the Kaperskis in over a week, and the last time he’d seen the Gentalis, they’d been begging yet another cup of rice off of them.

He hadn’t thought of their family as being all that prepared, but it turned out shopping the sales and buying in bulk had more advantages than saving money. They’d eaten well for the first week, decently for the second week, and now…

“We have two bottles of wine, three kinds of rice, and a can of beans. And an onion that’s starting to grow.”

“Oh, good.” Junie smiled at him. “I thought we’d eaten the last of the onions. Okay, I’ve got a bit of lard in the fridge, and the bones from the chicken. I’d say we’re good to go.”

He stared at his wife in a little bit of awe. “You can make a meal out of that?”

“Honey,” she laughed. “I could make a meal out of ramen noodles, a can of tomatoes, and a beer. We have wine. As long as we have wine, we’ll be fine.”

Henry stared at the pantry, trying not to acknowledge what he was thinking. The Gentalis, he knew, were great wine drinkers. They’d shown off their extensive wine cellar more than once…

“We’re fine for today, then,” he smiled at his wife. And maybe the snow would melt soon.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/292921.html. You can comment here or there.