Tag Archive | giraffecall

D is for Dungeon

For @dahob’s Prompt: Dungeon, Dragon, Demon, Dinosaur.

I could use prompts for D, G, H, and J, pls.

“I told you this was a dungeon crawl.” Drew ran her gloved hand along the left-hand wall. “There’s a demon – “

“That’s not a demon, that’s Damon.”

“Take a good look at him and tell me he doesn’t suit the role. Besides, he’s between us and the treasure.” Drew smirked triumphantly at D.D. “See? Dungeon crawl.” Joking about it almost covered the tremor in her voice.

“Okay. So allowing that there’s a Damon-demon, it’s still just a bunch of passages under a building.”

“With a dragon.”

“That’s got to be a dinosaur.”

“Neither of them make any sense.” That was what was getting to Drew. Nothing had made any sense since they’d snuck into the abandoned mental hospital.

“You’re the one that thinks this is a dungeon crawl.”

“That was supposed to be a joke!”

“But it’s looking more and more real. So, gamer girl. What’s the treasure?”

“An exit.”

“And how do we manage this?”

“Left-hand rule. I think.”

“All right. And weapons?”

“Well, there’s the grappling hook. And the crowbar.” She dug through her pack. “I don’t really want to take either one to Damon…”

“He’s not that cute.”

“He’s still a person. The dragon-dinosaur-thing, on the other hand…”

“I’m not so sure about Damon. Here, give me the hook.”

A howling sound in the distance caught both their attentions. “Forward.” Drew didn’t sound nearly as confident as she wanted to. “And remember, the Maglight is a weapon too, but only if we want to risk getting stuck in the dark.”

Somewhere behind them, a demon chuckled.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/527800.html. You can comment here or there.

I for the Interloper, a continuation for the April Giraffe Call (@Rix_Scaedu)

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of I for the Individual.

The hardest part of negotiating with the elves, Irene soon realized, would be keeping a straight face.

They were so young. Not as individuals (ha), but as a unit, as a culture. They had, it seemed, no memory at all, no records at all, of the time before the Disaster. Nothing but road signs, which they had taken as icons of their new world.

Irene’s people, the Arista, were not so young, nor was she herself so young, that the time before had faded. They had records, and, more than records, they had stories.

The elves had none of that. They had no oral history, no written word at all.

(Not quite accurate, she later learned. Many of them had developed their own alphabets, often working off of the shapes on signs. But their reach for complete individuality made any organized… well, anything… difficult if not impossible.)

“Haven’t you encountered outsiders before?”

“Our beliefs forbid it.” Iancu had ended up being the unfortunate spokes-elf for the group; it was his job to take to each individual the proposals that Irene put forth and attempt to reach some consensus. Today, Irene had felt bad for him and, instead of trying to move forward on the treaty, she was instead asking him questions. Those, she thought, he could handle without a committee.

“But your beliefs didn’t stop me from walking into your grove. They wouldn’t have stopped the Arista from making war on your forest.”

“Our beliefs forbid strangers.” Iancu got that peculiar shoulder-shrug that Irene was beginning to recognize as cognitive dissonance.

It took Irene a moment to process this. “You beliefs forbid strangers.” She thought, perhaps, that repeating it might make it make more sense. It only made it odder. “How do you… what do you do?

Iancu seemed to understand her question, which was good, because Irene wasn’t entirely certain that she did. “There are caveats in our beliefs. An individual may choose to step outside of the rules and beliefs – because the individual is more than any of those things, of course-“

“Of course.”

“-and, in doing so, deal with situations which our current rules don’t handle. Normally, we find a new icon to deal with this situation.”

“So… how did you end up talking to me?”

“I was the one who met your eyes, and thus I had to put aside my belief that you did not exist, could not exist, and speak to you.”

“And the others?”

“We are working on a new icon, to handle the situation so that we can speak to…” Iancu’s hands twitched. “To people who should not exist. We should have it done, soon.”

Irene thought about all of the things that the elves had attempted to work on in tandem. “I believe that, as an outsider who does not exist, I may be able to provide a solution. Do you have supplies on which I could paint an icon?”

Iancu hesitated. Irene did not blame the poor elf; she had, after all, come her declaring war. “You could provide us an icon?”

“I could.”

“I will provide you paint. And a painting surface.”

When Irene left the grove, several weeks later, the elves were still discussing the icon she had made them: Three concentric circles, alternating red and white. In the center of the smallest circle, a tree.

Irene had a feeling the elves would prove very easy to negotiate with, in the future. It was just going to be keeping a straight face that tripped her up.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/527456.html. You can comment here or there.

Waking Early

This is @Inventrix’s commissioned continuation words from the March Giraffe Call.

Addergoole East is the school run by Dean Kailani Storm; it opens in some form before the 2011 apocalypse and is a full-fledged school for fae and humans within a decade of that.

This story takes place at least a generation after that. So: 2011+10+20 (Yr 17+10+20) = 2041, Year 47 of the Addergoole School, Year 20 of Addergoole East.

Kiba woke with the sunrise, un-surprised to find her roommate already up and gone. Serenity was a work-study student; her parents hadn’t had the money to pay tuition (so very few people did anymore), so she did odd jobs around the place to cover the cost of her education.

So did Kiba, of course, although she was a legacy student. “It’ll keep you honest.” Her mother was a big proponent of keeping Kiba honest. As if, without constant supervision, Kiba was going to turn into a lying, cheating, philandering wanderer of some sort.

Of course, to hear her mother tell it, that’s what her father had been, so maybe there was some merit to the concern.

She dressed quickly – there was frost on the trees outside, and, although the school was well-insulated, it wasn’t all that warm, not when the fire had died down – and hurried downstairs for breakfast.

The dining hall was nearly empty, this early in the morning – most students would either come down in an hour, when the main breakfast was served, or had already eaten earlier, like Serenity. But Kiba liked it now, quiet, with the warmth of porridge to fill her up and the slow happy caffeine of a mug of tea for a bit of extra perk.

Her first class wasn’t until eight, but her Mentor was waiting for her out in the orchard. “You’re early.” It was clear Kavan Pensus approved. “Let’s go through the first seven Kata while we wait to see if the sleepyheads show up.”

“Yes, Professor.” Kiba bowed low, smiled, and began the exercises. There had been nothing like this back home, even with her parents having come out of Addergoole First. Of course, home had been a lot of trying to stay alive and trying to hold on to a culture that had been gone before Kiba had been born.

Professor Pensus had his own set of kata; the Seven were a set of stretches that slid seamlessly into calisthenics and from there into attack poses.

As she stepped into the calisthenics, Pensus, down on the floor in a split, began quizzing her. “How have you been sleeping?”

“My rest,” she caught her breath, and remembered to speak evenly, “has been pleasant. Serenity isn’t – is not having nightmares any more. She is sleeping more evenly, as well.”

“And Kaspar?”

“Professor.” She finished her last jumping jack and paused long enough to practice her disappointed-gaze at her Mentor. “Such things are private.”

“And I am your Mentor.”

“Yes, but you are not my lover nor my Keeper.” She fell into the next set of poses before she could be corrected.

“These things are true. And yet can I not be concerned about your life?”

“You can, of course, be concerned and curious. But it still remains my right to have a private life, so long as I do not give that right to another.”

“And you do not plan to give that right to Kaspar?”

“Am I late?” Jethro hurried into the courtyard and dropped into the first Kata.

“You are on time. What have I told you about being on time?” The professor was clearly enjoying this. Kiba hid her smile in another pose.

“Yes, Professor, I mean, no, Professor, I mean…” Jethro, who was never good at the mornings anyway, was saved by the rest of their cy’ree appearing.

“How do you get there so early?” Jethro and Clove shared most of Kiba’s classes, so they walked together from their morning training session most days. “I mean, there’s never a morning when you’re not there.”

“Come on, Jethro.” Clove clucked in amusement. “What does the professor tell you? Use the information you’re given.”

“The information I have is that Kiba shows up early every morning for training with Professor Pensus. I assume that she’s not a ridiculous kiss-up, because I’ve never seen her kissing up to other teachers. See, more observed information. And she doesn’t have morning chores.”

“But her roommate does.”

Kiba looked between the two of them, amused. “Excellent deduction, Clove. Actually, I’m just used to getting up early, and never got into the habit of sleeping in that some people get into when they come to school.”

“Farm family?” Jethro hazarded it a little more cautiously. Kiba wondered if he was afraid of offending her.

“Farm family.” Kiba nodded. They didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty stuff, at least not yet. “And, besides, I really like the morning session.”

“So maybe you are a kiss-up.” Jethro’s arm came around Kiba’s shoulder in a way that was somewhere between friendly and familiar. “Let’s see how you feel after the afternoon session.”

Kiba didn’t move his arm. She found she liked its warmth. “We’ll see.” Glancing over at his expression, and catching Clove’s in the process, she thought maybe there were quite a few things they’d be seeing.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/526938.html. You can comment here or there.

C if for Creation (@dahob)

To @daHob’s prompt “creation.”

They started with the earth and the sky.

They had a hemisphere, a blank, seven miles in radius, of force-shield, set upon one of the most blasted places, where the air, the ground, even the stone was blasted and useless. They set the hemisphere there, and they sent in their radiation-scrubbing nanites and their rubble-breaking-down machines and their chemicals, until the ground was level dirt, arable and fertile, and the air in there was breathable.

The sphere had been opaque; now they made it transparent, to let in the light. They set their machines to digging up a lake and a river, creeks and streams, to funnel the water of the sky in. And they set into all these tributaries filters, so that the water would be potable.

They sent in new machines, to plant seeds, carefully-picked to imitate the land that had been here once. There were grasses and trees, bushes and flowers, so many flowers. And there were bees and other pollinators, before there was anything else.

And they allowed the rain through the sphere, so that the plants could grow.

They lived in their safe places, their towers and their bunkers, while the machines worked, and they did this not once, but seven times, because, while not many had survived, they hoped to grow again.

When the seven were ready for animal life, they began again with seven more, cleansing the blasted wasteland that had been their grandparents’ homes. While the first spheres took on wild animals, as carefully picked and cultivated as the plants had been.

A generation had passed when they allowed the first humans into the first spheres. A generation since they began, and so many generations since the war that none remembered its beginning.

They stepped into their Edens, careful places with a few careful buildings set upon their careful rivers. They set foot in their creations, and rejoiced.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/526816.html. You can comment here or there.

B for Bizarre Beetles

To stryck‘s prompt and rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

I could use some prompts for D-J, please, except E and I, which are well-taken.

“That is… bizarre. Is that a Beetle?” Bennie stared at the.. it was probably a car. What else could it be?

The thing hurtling down the highway at hair-raising speeds was the general shape of a VW bug. And it was on a highway, and it was being, presumably, driven.

But the windows, if there were any, were not visible; what was visible instead were the iridescent wings of a beetle and, coming from the front, two long antennae. No wheels were visible, either; instead it looked as if the thing were simply running on spindly legs.

“It looks like a beetle to me.” Barb was peering out the bus window, too, her tone thoughtful. “They don’t come that big, do they? Even down here?”

“Of course not… well. As far as I know.” Bennie had learned not to scoff at Barb’s questions. It only led to misery. “As far as I’ve ever read.”

“Books.” Barb, on the other hand, scoffed at will. “So what do you think it is?”

“I…” He hated admitting it. “I don’t know. Hey, look, it’s stopping.” The highway had petered out into a stop-light-ridden intersection, and the bus had stopped alongside the possibly-a-beetle-Beetle. “Hunh, even stopped, I can’t see the windows.”

“Are you sure it’s a car? I mean, yes, driving along the road and all, but still…” Barb fell silent as the thing’s wings opened up, and the beetle-Beetle launched into the air.

“Hunh.” Bennie craned his head to follow the thing’s flight. “Well, it has a muffler.”

“Bizarre.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/526518.html. You can comment here or there.

A is for Antlers, a story of Addergoole Yr41 for the Giraffe Call (@inventrix, @AlphaRaposa)

To stryck‘s prompt. Antler will always remind me of @Inventrix’s Addergoole character Leofric, and then of his son Vidrou, and so I took it out one step further to his son, by the girl in the icon.

Ce’Rilla sh’Orlaith by Accalon and Vidrou sh’Cynara by Leofric

Anyway! Forward to Year 41…

“He has antlers. Antlers, Eleri, isn’t that adorable? Well, antler buds.” Laufeia ran her hand over her new Kept’s skull, pushing his sandy hair out of the way to reveal the little nubs that would be antlers in a year or two.

He didn’t pull away, because he’d been ordered not to move. But he hadn’t, yet, been ordered not to speak. “You should let me go.”

“Oh, that’s silly.” Laufeia smiled indulgently at the boy and spoke over his shoulder to her crew-mate. “Isn’t he adorable, El?”

“He might be right, Fei. You now that there’s people you shouldn’t mess with. He could be, especially if he has antlers.” The redhead brushed her hand through the boy’s hair.

He once again did not pull away. His eyes were fixed on Laufeia. “Your grandmother and my grandfather have a history. You should let me go before my grandmother finds you.” He thought about that for a moment, and then altered his sentence a bit. “My grandmothers.”

“And what about my grandmother, mm? And how do you know my lineage?”

“I made a hobby of lineages, before I came here. And I asked my family a lot of questions.” He seemed to stretch, even though he still could not move. “You should let me go.”

“I’m not going to let you go. That would be silly.” Her laugh belied her nerves, trilling up too high. “Besides, I’m sure your parents were Kept, and their Keepers survived it, didn’t they?”

“I’m not sure my sister’s dad did, actually.” The boy sounded more thoughtful than anything.

“Fei…” Eleri was backing away slowly.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/525842.html. You can comment here or there.

Z is for Zoology Sparks, a story of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call

To Ellenmillion‘s prompt, with a side of stryck‘s prompt.

Zenobia is an Aunt from the Aunt Family; her stories are here. Prompting her was [personal profile] kelkyag
Zenobia was taking an interest in zoology.

She hadn’t done this solely, or even primarily, to irritate her family, although it served this purpose admirably.

It entertained her to speak to the relatives about other species that might exhibit the spark. “And what about octopuses? They have so many hands, can you imagine them reading a tarot? It would have to be a waterproof tarot, of course…”

That hadn’t been the one that had really irritated them. Zonkey, Zonkey had really gotten to her nieces and nephews. They already thought that she was more than a little zany, and, of course, she was stubborn in her refusal to die or otherwise give up her position, but zonkies? Really? Worse was when she added two to the family stables.

But there was, as there always was, a method to her madness. First, she did wish to know if there were other animals that would show what her family called the spark. There was, of course, The Damn Cat, who was clearly a cat above the rest. Were there others?

For some reason, despite his reluctance to have her look into his own past, the Damn Cat was more than willing to help Zenobia in her studies into zoology. “Stick with mammals,” he advised. “Fish are food. So are birds. And frogs…” He shuddered at the idea of frogs. “And probably stick with the females of the species.”

“Why females?”

“There is a reason your Aunties have the spark. And never mind that your Unclies have it too. Trust me.” The cat sat down on her zoology text. “The zonkies were a good start.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/525440.html. You can comment here or there.

Giraffe Call Still Open! Need a new prompter/donator/someone with a Z!

My Giraffe Call is still open!

At the moment, I’ve written
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY

My counts so far:
Prompter Count: 24
Extra Prompt count: 1
Donator Count: 6
Total letters to be written: 37/26

Which means I have open for prompts: – A – B – C – D – E – F – G – H – I – J – k
(and, for every new prompter/donation, another letter)

I’ve been combining a lot of prompts, and counting the prompt for either the primary theme or, if it’s a shared theme, splitting it 50/50 between prompters and counting it as half a story for each, but I’m really short on Z’s, only one of my donators left me a Z and I’ve already written 1000 stories to his prompts. And I have a Z, folks!

So please signal boost! (I need to update the poem with current-count 6 couplets) Or, if you haven’t prompted yet, go prompt.

Or there’s always

Buy an Extension
500 words $5.00 USD
750 words $7.50 USD
1000 words $10.00 USD
1250 words $12.50 USD
1500 words $15.00 USD
1750 words $17.50 USD
2000 words $20.00 USD
100 words $1.00 USD

(and leave a Z prompt)

We’re $10 from being able to afford the accessories for the foyer, and $15 from two extra continuations. If we get to $80, and/or if the letters get up to M again, I’ll do a second (or third!) non-English letter once I get all those done!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/524988.html. You can comment here or there.

Y is for Yoshi, a story of Boom for the Giraffe Call

2011, just as the war began. Fae Apoc, for [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt

They had a Ranch.

At the moment, they were a bit crowded on said Ranch. It had one old farmhouse and a small cabin, and they had all of Mom’s crew, and-then-some.

Yoshi and Viddie were sharing a tent, sometimes with Ruki, while Mom and Uncle Howard worked on building new houses – cabins, Uncle Howard called them. Yoshi thought they were awesome.

He knew, in a fuzzy way, that something bad was going on with the world. Sometimes he’d catch the grown-ups taking about it – Uncle Leo, usually, but sometimes the others. They’d talk about the gods that had come back.

He’d asked his mother, when he caught her attention between moving-supplies-around and building-buildings. “Gods? I thought we didn’t believe in gods.” She coughed and changed the subject, thus indicating to Yoshi that he was going to have to try harder.

He tried Uncle Howard next, only to get not only a brush-off but a half-hour lesson in house-building.

He knew better than to ask Uncle Leo, at least if he wanted an answer based in reality. Uncle Leo told the best stories, but they were still stories.

So he cornered The Refugee, Mom’s latest Kept. He was still new, and didn’t know, yet, how to avoid being cornered.

“So. Gods.”

“Um.” The Refugee – Gaheris, that was his name – blinked at Yoshi. “The ones in Vegas?”

“Yes. I thought gods were a myth.”

“Oh.” This one had also not yet learned to tell Yoshi to ask his mum. “Well. That’s what they’re called, because they’re old. But they’re a lot like your mom’s crew, really. Just bigger and more powerful.”

“Bigger and more powerful than Uncles Leo and Howard?”

“And smarter than your mom, and more clever than your Aunt Zita.” Gaheris nodded solemnly. “They’re very old.”

“Wow.” Yoshi wasn’t sure he believed him. He wasn’t sure that such creatures could exist. But it was something to think about, at least.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/524749.html. You can comment here or there.

Giraffe Call Open: A-Z

Today’s Giraffe Call Theme is based off the Blogging from A-Z Challenge.

Over the next 2 weeks, I will write one fic to prompts for each letter of the English Alphabet – one prompt per person; a second prompt for donators.

If I receive enough prompts/donations to write a prompt for each letter of the alphabet, I will write two bonus stories to non-English (real or fictional) letter themes.

Leave as many prompts as you wish. Please leave your prompts in the form of:

A is for Apple
C – Cephalopod Creeps.
and so on.

I will list the letters here. As one becomes “full;” i.e., 4 or more prompts, I will cross it out.

If I get a large number of overlapping prompts, I may ask people to re-prompts with new letters.

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
ABCDEFGHI – J

Continuations:
IK

Prompter Count: 23
Extra Prompt count: 1
Donator Count: 6
Total letters to be written: 36/26

Donations go towards summer renovations: still working on the foyer! I want to make a new bench, a storage area, and a slippers-for-guests arrangement. It’s an 8×4 space; budget is $300.

If I get two new prompters or one new donator, I will write a setting piece (setting chosen by poll) explaining something about one of my universes.




At $20 in donations, I’ll order pizza!
– REACHED

At $25 in donations, I’ll finally have enough for the hardwood boards, and find a hardwood store in Ithaca! – REACHED!

At $40 in donations, I will choose 1 non-donater at random to receive an additional microfic as well. – REACHED

At $50, anyone who donated $7.50 or more will have a copy of “Alder by Post” mailed to them if they wish. – REACHED

For every $50 donated, I will do a one-hour livewrite on Etherpad or googledocs during the next month.

At $65, I’ll write a third microfic to the prompts of everyone who donated. – REACHED

At $75, I’ll buy the accessories for the storage area. And post pictures!

At $80, I will write two extra 500-word continuations – chosen by prompters picked by random number generator.

Buy an Extension
500 words $5.00 USD
750 words $7.50 USD
1000 words $10.00 USD
1250 words $12.50 USD
1500 words $15.00 USD
1750 words $17.50 USD
2000 words $20.00 USD
100 words $1.00 USD

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/509529.html. You can comment here or there.