Tag Archive | prompter: rix

Outta the Woods Yet?

The big cat had been chasing Pren for heart-rending minutes when she managed to skid into a cave she’d never seen before.  She shimmied through a hole that was barely big enough for her and scooted up into a little ledge area. The cat might wait for hours for her, so she made herself comfortably before she pulled out the flint and steel and lit her torch.

The walls of the cave glittered and shone the way that sometimes a small piece of rock would.  The whole area was smooth, rounded, like she had scooted up from the cave into something even less natural than her tree-house.

On the far side of the room was a lever.  Pren looked at the lever. At least, it was a stick poking out of the wall at an angle.  Her mother had shown her how to use things like that to set traps for animals, when she had been small.  When her mother had been around. It might dump her into a net or drop something on her, although both the floor and ceiling looked sturdy enough in the torchlight.  It might drop something on the cat.

The cat was trying to get up the hole she had slipped through.  One clawed paw batted upwards, bigger than Pren’s foot.

She scooted backwards and pulled the lever.  Even a trap was better than being eaten by a cat.

She fell backwards as the wall opened up, into a brightly and smooth room full of strangers and shining lights.

Continue reading


a story for my New Year’s Prompt Call, which you should go prompt at please, here.

Warning… a wee bit maudlin. 

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The snow had finally melted.  It had been a long winter – slow-starting but then dumping buckets of snow on us all of February and March and most of April.

It was May 5th, and I could finally see all of the grass, or at least the parts that had survived.  I could see, too, my poor bushes, which had not done well but which were, now, trying to put out the buds they normally would have put out in early March.  Continue reading

What’s in the Garden?

Written to Rix-Scaedu’s prompt to my new “WTF?” Prompt Call.  This is definitely a Science! story, complete with the Boss – Liam – and his plucky second-in-command. 

The raid had taken down three scientists working outside the bounds of the law, morality, or common sense, along with seven “assistants”, mostly grad students, who would probably not be charged, as having to find another research position might be punishment enough for anyone.

It had also found several references to “the farm office,” which, once the proper grad student was interrogated, appeared to be an old veterinary clinic sitting in a small farm town half an hour outside the city.

Liam, who had no official government or law-enforcement position, and Cara, who was, on paper, at least, his second-in-command, were along on both trips.  Liam had already recruited the most sensible of the scientists (along with hiring her a lawyer) and the three grad students Cara had hand-picked. Now – now they got to see what the farm office was. Continue reading

Edally Academy Houses I – colors and sigils – written for Patreon

Every one of the nine houses of Edally Academy has its own tower (which serves as a dormitory and social area), its own classroom building, its own uniform colors, and its own sigil.Kyokyoenet House (Kyoket*) is the martial house.

In modern days,  this school is sometimes thought to be useless, a redundancy in times when there is only Calenta filling the whole continent.  Still it remains, and classes in tactics, combat, and strategy are an essential part of every Edally student’s eduation.

Their colors are navy, orange-red, & red, red being the color of Veignevar/Viegnevaar, whose realm is  blood, fire, violence, death, and the hot season.  Their sigil is the sword, the leaf-blade gladius-type weapon that every Edally student learns at least basic proficiency in.

House Akaizepennen (Akaizen*) covers Mechanics and Engineering. Continue reading

Prideworthy – a story for Patreon


Headmaster Baarbaarbaar looked at the Tower.  Barely fifty years old, it had stood with the name of the third Head of School for that entire time.

Next to him, the Head of the Martial school looked on thoughtfully.  “Do you think it’s appropriate?”

“I think…” Baarbaarbaar spoke slowly, letting the thoughts circulate.  “I believe that we have always put the names of our most prideworthy graduates at pertinent places in the school.  And now that we have the Towers for each school, it makes sense to let their names, too, change with the pride of the school.”

“But…”  Allizh was a staid and placid-seeming woman who thought slowly but with great deliberation.  “This is the sort of thing that War house is proud of, yes.  BUt is it the sort of thing that the Academy is proud of?” Continue reading

Mending Strands

So this is… sort of a continuation of Breaking Strands? But Breaking Strands is a fanfiction and this is… not. 

Anyway, it’s Winter Being Badass, as requested.  


The room felt wrong.  His sisters, Winter thought, might have said that it was creepy or oogy or sick, although sometimes sick was a good thing.

(Having three younger sisters go through teenage-hood a couple years apart had been approximately a decade of confusion and headaches for Winter.  He wondered how actual fathers did it. )

What it felt like to him was cold, and not in his namesake way, and broken.

“I think,” his contact – no, friend.  Normal people, his sister Summer kept telling him, had friends.  And someone he played chess with every week and sometimes saw a movie with was, if not a potential SO or lover – and this one was not – a friend.  His friend in the FBI cleared his throat.  “I think that what’s going on in these situations is that someone has cut their Stands.  That’s the correct word, yes?  I read  Ernesta Roundtree – she’s your mother, correct? – I read her paper on the Strands last year.  They told me I needed beach reading,” he added with a wry smile. Continue reading


To an anonymous Leopard (Rix’s) prompt during my Live Writing Wednesday.  I hope I got the prompt right, since I lost it in a chat delete. 

Fae Apoc, probably early post-apoc


“I owe you one.”

If there were words Uršula less wanted to be saying, she couldn’t think of them.

“Yep, you do.” Continue reading