Tag Archive | prompter: rix

Three-Way – the Duet

Oct10

Three Way came out of Giraffe Call and was sponsored for continuation by Rix_Scadeau. Originally posted here and on LJ, continued here (LJ) and then here (LJ

Ahouva clung to Basalt’s arm, not sure what he was doing or why he was doing it. Give Lolly back to Jeremiah? Was he going to give her back, too? She looked over at Kendon, still sprawled on the floor. He’d been really good to her, gentle and patient. It hadn’t been his fault that she was clumsy and stupid, that she made him…

No, that wasn’t right. That’s what he had said, over and over again. “I’m good to you, and you keep fucking up. I’m so patient with you, sweetie, but even I have my limits. I don’t like punishing you, but you leave me no choice.”

But she was bad. She’d been so slow to learn anything, even magic, which she loved, said all the wrong things around his friends, embarrassed him so much he’d started leaving her at home when he hung out with them…

She swallowed a sob. Why would Basalt want her? “Why?” she whispered softly.

He paused in his slow navigation of the bloody lounge and looked down at her. His smile looked gentler than anything she’d expected to see from him. “Why? It had to be done.”

It was almost what he’d said before, and it didn’t explain anything. “But…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “but shush for just a couple minutes, okay? Then we can talk about it as much as you want.”

She sealed her lips and nodded mutely. Give Lolly back… And Basalt was, still holding her, kneeling by Jeremiah, who looked so very close to dead. He muttered something – a Working, something to do with kaana, that was air, right? – and then spoke softly to the gutted scarecrow. Gutted. The guy holding her had done that, hadn’t he? Kendon might have, but Kendon was in no better shape.

“I don’t know what you were up to,” Basalt was murmuring softly, “but we both know I’m not up to handling Lolly.”

Ahouva looked up at the petite blonde in the ridiculous little-girl outfit, sucking on a lollypop and watching a pool of blood move towards her toes. She shivered, faintly, when the girl looked up at her, ice-blue eyes dispassionate. She had caught looks like that before, when Lolly happened to meet her eyes, as if wondering what she’d look like opened up on a table, dissected. She’d heard stories of what the other girl was like in Biology class, too, what she was like doing dissections. What would she have been like, if Jeremiah had won Ahouva? Was that why he’d challenged Kendon for her?

“…so let’s make this quick,” Basalt was saying. “As per the terms of the challenge…”

“Lolly, you Belong to Basalt,” Jeremiah croaked.

Lolly nodded, still smiling. “Okay. I’m all yours, Basalt,” she chirped. Ahouva wondered if either of the guys saw the tears leaking down the girl’s face.

“Yes, you are. And now, as per the terms of our agreement, Liliandra cy’Linden, you Belong to Jeremiah the Prophet.”

For the first time since meeting her, Ahouva saw the other girl look startled. “I what? I… you what?” She looked down at Jeremiah with a faintly accusing glare. “That wasn’t…” She shook her head. “I Belong to you, Jeremiah, the Prophet.”

“Yes, yes you do, doll,” he grunted out. “Now go get me Dr. Caitrin, please.”

While she scampered off, Basalt stood, still cradling Ahouva. “Now that that’s done, we can talk.”

She wasn’t certain if he meant that she could talk, so Ahouva nodded, her lips still pressed together. Of everything Kendon had done when he was mad at her, she’d hated being shushed the most. It meant she couldn’t even argue in her own defense.

“I’m going to take you to my room,” he continued. “We’ll get your stuff from Kendon’s room after the doctor is done with him, and then we can work out everything else.”

Everything else? He sounded surprisingly reasonable for a thug, but he was still in public. The worst wouldn’t happen until the doors were closed and the Administration could pretend nothing was going on. Ahouva nodded again, wishing he’d get on with it.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her, as he carried her down the hall like a doll. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

She stared at him incredulously. Was that was this was all about? Did he think he was rescuing her? Had she seriously just been white-knight-and-the-dragon by a cy’Fridmar monster?

That expression actually got him to stop, and, worse, it got him frowning. “All right, we’re almost there,” he said, almost to himself, and started walking again. Maybe ten steps later, he shifted her weight in his arms, opened the door, and let them in.

His room, Ahouva decided, was very man-cave. Dimly-lit, dark colors, not all that messy but that seemed, in part, to be because there wasn’t that much stuff. The bed and a desk chair were the only places to sit; he put her down on the bed and pulled up a chair.

“Okay. One, I rescind the order to shush, and I apologize for that, but I wanted to deal with Jeremiah while he was still half-knocked out with pain. He’s too smart to deal with normally.”

“It’s okay,” she demurred. Was the blanket on his bed… fur?

“So,” he continued, not really acknowledging her answer, “I don’t know why he was challenging for you. Do you?”

“No?” She shook her head. “I never even talked to him – or to his Kept. I only have one class with him,” she added hurriedly, “and I always sit next to… sat next to Kendon.” Now what was she going to do?

“I don’t think he was going for ‘romantic’ motives,” Basalt assured her. “But I wonder what he was up to.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Did I really look like I needed rescuing? I tried to smile and put a good face on in public, I really did!”

“Hey,” he interjected, surprise and worry clear on his face. “Hey, Ahouva, nobody’s yelling at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You managed to keep a stiff upper lip so well, it took a long time to notice anything was wrong.”

“Wrong? I mean, Kendon and I had our rough spots, but I was learning how to do better… I didn’t need rescuing,” she blurted, and then slapped her hands over her mouth. He could just give her back, too, right? Kendon couldn’t be too mad at her.

Basalt shook his head, looking at her. “I could really use an empath about now,” he muttered. “Listen, Ahouva. He was abusing you, and the bond – being Kept – was making you accept it. And it looks like maybe some stubbornness on your part, too,” he added in a mutter. Ahouva cringed and didn’t try to contradict him. “But you’re not with him anymore. You’re with me,” he added firmly.

“So…” She tried not to think about Ceinwen crying in the girls’ room. “What do you want me for?”

“Well…” He scooted his chair closer, until his knees were touching hers. “I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/141404.html. You can comment here or there.

3-Way Continued

Oct4

This story came out of the late August Giraffe Call and was sponsored for continuation by rix_scaedu. Originally posted here and on LJ.

“This is ridiculous.” Ahouva, pressed between Jovanna and Aeowyn on the lounge couch, shook her head again, staring at the upperclassmen. They had pushed all the furniture to the walls, clearing a wide space in the center of the room, and now Kendon and Jeremiah were talking, quietly and intently, in the middle of the space. To one side, Jeremiah’s creepy little girlfriend, Lolly, bounced up and down like a kid

“It seems kind of romantic to me,” Jovanna sighed.

“It has that façade, doesn’t it?” Aeowyn shook her head. “You’re right, Who, it’s creepy.”

“Kendon and I are fine,” Ahouva continued, too aggrieved to be sidetracked. “There’s nothing wrong with us, and this creep with his creepy girlfriend has to go and get medieval like I’m some sort of possession..”

“Well, technically..”

“Oh, stop that, Aeowyn,” Jovanna snapped. “It’s just as creepy as the upperclassmen when you get into that.”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know, I know,” Ahouva handwaved unhappily. “But do they have to get all medieval?”

“There was that one time…” Jovanna began hesitantly. “At the dance?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” she insisted firmly, rubbing her shoulders. “He had a bit too much to drink, and I was being a bit loud…”

“Well, maybe he’ll win, then,” Aeowyn interrupted pragmatically. “He seems very strong, and the other guy seems kind of like a beanpole.”

“But he wants her enough to challenge for her.”

“For some reason…” She’d seen the look in his eyes. She shook her head. “It’s not romance, Jo. It’s… I don’t know, but it scares me.”

“After Kendon, I wouldn’t think a skinny nerd would scare you.”

She glared at Jo. “He’s not scary. He’s just enthusiastic.”

“Mm…”

“Hush, you two, they’re starting.” Aeowyn leaned forward in her seat as the upperclassmen began formal-sounding proclamations.

“If I lose this challenge, I promise that I will immediately transfer to you my Ownership of the Ninth Cohort Ahouva sh’Ruth,” Kendon said, the words formal but his body posture suggesting he had no fear of losing.

“If I lose,” Jeremiah picked up, just as certain-seeming, “I promise that I will immediately transfer to you my Ownership of the Eight Cohort Liliandra cy’Linden, called Lolly.”

What? Only Kendon’s order kept her in her seat. She glared knives at his back, suddenly wishing his failure. That weird little doll… why would he want her? Why was he risking losing what he already had?

“The terms of the challenge,” Kendon began, to be interrupted by the arrival of another group: Thorburn, with his girlfriend Ceinwen and his cronies, Curry and Basalt.

“We’re just here to witness,” the big man said easily, when Kendon and Jeremiah looked askance at him.

“What are the terms of the challenge?” Basalt asked. As the two explained it – again – Ahouva studied him nervously. She didn’t trust him or his friends; she’d seen them on Hell Night, stomping around like monsters, and she’d seen Ceinwen crying in the girls’ room. They were thugs, straight-out. Why were they interfering.

“Interesting.” Basalt was grinning in a way she definitely didn’t like. “What if I win? Do I get both girls?”

Kendon and Jeremiah started talking at once, shouting, arguing, until little creepy Lolly murmured, “if he challenges you both…”

“Stop helping,” Jeremiah snapped.

The tiny blonde fell silent, as Basalt, pleased, declared, “then I add myself to this challenge, challenging you both for your Kept.”

“And what are you putting up, if you lose?” Kendon snapped, while Ahouva tried to become part of the couch. No, no, not him. Jeremiah would be better…

“Myself,” the big man grinned.

~
Silence fell. “Yourself?” Kendon asked. “You’re putting yourself up as stakes?”

“I am. I’m not as pretty as the girls, I admit, but I think it’s a fair deal.”

They were thinking of backing out, Ahouva could tell, both guys shaking their heads. Maybe she could relax. Maybe she wouldn’t end up belonging to a monster; maybe she could stay with her Kendon. Then, sweetly, over the growing silence, they could hear Ceinwin asking Thornbun a damning question.

“Didn’t you say it was a major loss of honor to turn down a challenge?”

“I did,” Thorburn agreed, “but I’m sure their pride can take the hit. They’re big boys.”

No, damnit, Ceinwen, why? Did you need someone to be miserable with you? Ahouva glared at the girl she’d thought was her friend. Kendon had a temper. Taunted like that, he wasn’t going to be able to say no.

Indeed, he’d just spat out “accepted,” followed quickly by Jeremiah. Ahouva pressed her face against Jovanna’s arm and crossed her fingers, hoping, somehow, Kendon would win. He could do it, couldn’t he? He was so strong… and he wouldn’t have accepted if he didn’t think he stood a good chance. Right?

“Oh, my,” Aeowyn murmured, and then, a moment later, “Wow. Impressive.”

“Eek,” Jovanna added for commentary, and, loudly, “oh, shit!”

“Can anyone survive that, do you think?” Aeowyn pondered out loud.

“Gods, I hope so. I heard murder gets you expelled.” Ahouva cringed, her eyes still closed tightly, wishing her friends would shut up. Were they talking about her Kendon? No, they wouldn’t be that cruel.

“Wow… oh, dear.” Aeowyn’s knees curled up to her chest.

“Ahouva…” Kendon called, and she, finally, looked up. Her master, her boyfriend, was pinned to the ground, a spear of some sort through his shoulder, reaching for her. “Ahouva,” he said again. “He-” Jeremiah’s boot to his mouth shut him up, but she was already out of her seat.

She couldn’t use magic, he’d forbidden her to use it out of class. She picked up a stick, but he’d said she couldn’t attack anyone after she’d bitten one of his friends. She could flash them, maybe… no. “The clothes I put on you stay on you until I tell you they can come off, except during PE.” She couldn’t even do that. She sat down on the floor, tears flowing. He’d ordered her to help. She wanted to help, didn’t want to see him hurt. What could she do?

“Yield,” Jeremiah croaked, falling over next to Kendon. How had she missed that his intestines were spilling out? How could he still have been standing?

“Yield,” Kendon echoed, flopping like a fish on the floor. “You useless piece of shit, Ahouva, I told you to help.”

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to do!”

“Well, you’re someone else’s problem now.” He was coughing up blood. “I release you to Basalt. Ahouva, you Belong to Basalt now. Fuck. Someone call a doctor.”

Her world was reeling. This pitiful asshole on the floor, bleeding all over the carpet, he’d just ripped out what was left of her soul and passed it on to someone else. She felt like she was the one spilling her guts on the floor. She felt as if she was the one dying slowly. She’d failed. She’d failed and he’d given her up. She leaned over and puked, vomiting up what little she’d had to eat for lunch.

“Woah, woah.” A hand was on her back. “Here, puking in open wounds is probably a little extreme even for Kendon.” Even more gently, the deep voice added “you have to say the words, Ahouva; until you do, the promise is still eating at him.”

She looked down at Kendon, her vomit covering his chest. That meant the hand on her back was Basalt, didn’t it? And Kendon had just… “I belong to you now?”

“Yes, yes you do. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” With surprising strength and even more surprising gentleness, he picked her up like a baby. Up close, he smelled faintly of charcoal.

“Why?” she asked, leaning into his arms. What was he going to do with her now?

His shrug moved her like a wave and twisted her already unhappy stomach. “Someone had to. Uh, hold on. I have to take Lolly from Jeremiah and give her back.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/139218.html. You can comment here or there.

Three-Way

Aug26

To Rix_scadeau”s commissioned prompt in my Call for Prompts: “an Addergoole student being rescued or assisted in rescuing someone by a teacher or another student whom they fear with good reason.”

Year 9, after “It’s Going Down.”
“This is ridiculous.” Ahouva, pressed between Jovanna and Aeowyn on the lounge couch, shook her head again, staring at the upperclassmen. They had pushed all the furniture to the walls, clearing a wide space in the center of the room, and now Kendon and Jeremiah were talking, quietly and intently, in the middle of the space. To one side, Jeremiah’s creepy little girlfriend, Lolly, bounced up and down like a kid

“It seems kind of romantic to me,” Jovanna sighed.

“It has that façade, doesn’t it?” Aeowyn shook her head. “You’re right, Who, it’s creepy.”

“Kendon and I are fine,” Ahouva continued, too aggrieved to be sidetracked. “There’s nothing wrong with us, and this creep with his creepy girlfriend has to go and get medieval like I’m some sort of possession..”

“Well, technically..”

“Oh, stop that, Aeowyn,” Jovanna snapped. “It’s just as creepy as the upperclassmen when you get into that.”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know, I know,” Ahouva handwaved unhappily. “But do they have to get all medieval?”

“There was that one time…” Jovanna began hesitantly. “At the dance?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” she insisted firmly, rubbing her shoulders. “He had a bit too much to drink, and I was being a bit loud…”

“Well, maybe he’ll win, then,” Aeowyn interrupted pragmatically. “He seems very strong, and the other guy seems kind of like a beanpole.”

“But he wants her enough to challenge for her.”

“For some reason…” She’d seen the look in his eyes. She shook her head. “It’s not romance, Jo. It’s… I don’t know, but it scares me.”

“After Kendon, I wouldn’t think a skinny nerd would scare you.”

She glared at Jo. “He’s not scary. He’s just enthusiastic.”

“Mm…”

“Hush, you two, they’re starting.” Aeowyn leaned forward in her seat as the upperclassmen began formal-sounding proclamations.

“If I lose this challenge, I promise that I will immediately transfer to you my Ownership of the Ninth Cohort Ahouva sh’Ruth,” Kendon said, the words formal but his body posture suggesting he had no fear of losing.

“If I lose,” Jeremiah picked up, just as certain-seeming, “I promise that I will immediately transfer to you my Ownership of the Eight Cohort Liliandra cy’Linden, called Lolly.”

What? Only Kendon’s order kept her in her seat. She glared knives at his back, suddenly wishing his failure. That weird little doll… why would he want her? Why was he risking losing what he already had?

“The terms of the challenge,” Kendon began, to be interrupted by the arrival of another group: Thorburn, with his girlfriend Ceinwen and his cronies, Curry and Basalt.

“We’re just here to witness,” the big man said easily, when Kendon and Jeremiah looked askance at him.

“What are the terms of the challenge?” Basalt asked. As the two explained it – again – Ahouva studied him nervously. She didn’t trust him or his friends; she’d seen them on Hell Night, stomping around like monsters, and she’d seen Ceinwen crying in the girls’ room. They were thugs, straight-out. Why were they interfering.

“Interesting.” Basalt was grinning in a way she definitely didn’t like. “What if I win? Do I get both girls?”

Kendon and Jeremiah started talking at once, shouting, arguing, until little creepy Lolly murmured, “if he challenges you both…”

“Stop helping,” Jeremiah snapped.

The tiny blonde fell silent, as Basalt, pleased, declared, “then I add myself to this challenge, challenging you both for your Kept.”

“And what are you putting up, if you lose?” Kendon snapped, while Ahouva tried to become part of the couch. No, no, not him. Jeremiah would be better…

“Myself,” the big man grinned.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/119485.html. You can comment here or there.

Addergoole Year 57

Aug17

From Rix_Scadeau‘s commission: Something happening at the school during the time of the post-apoc stories. I fudged this a year or two to get the generations right.

Addergoole Year 57, Hell Night Morning

Ardah had intended to sleep in on Saturday. It had been a busy week, and she was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on around here. People were weird-shaped, sure. She’d seen a few weird-shaped people here and there, although her parents always tried to hide them.

More than the strange body shapes, however, was the strange way people were acting. You’d think the weirdest of it was over, but no, they all seemed to be twitchy, like the worst was yet to come. It made Ardah’s skin itch.

So she was awake, trying to pretend she was sleeping, staring at her dark ceiling, when someone pounded on her door. Years of duck-and-cover training had her out of bed, shoes on and a long shirt over her nightclothes, before the second knock came.

Her brother stood on the other side, lit strangely by red emergency lighting, looking even more demonic than his Changes normally made him. “Ardah. Hard choice time. Trust me, take the quick way. It won’t be the easiest but it won’t be what you’ll get out there.”

She eyed him cautiously. Ferris had changed since coming here, not just Changed but changed in personality. He seemed less trustworthy with every passing day. “What’s the other option?”

“Head out into this,” he gestured at the hallway, “and take your chances with the rest of the school.”

“So it’s trust you… or trust myself to be able to handle the hallways of the school.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Come on, Ferris. What gives?”

“Come on, Ardah, just say you Belong to me and I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

She shook her head, staring at him. “I don’t want to belong to anyone, Ferris. And you’re scaring me.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. When have I ever hurt you?”

“Well, there was that time you got me stuck in the bramble bush…”

“That was the brambles hurting you, Ard.”

“Semantics.” She frowned at him, but she could tell he was getting agitated. Good. He paid less attention to his words the angrier he got. “How about the time you locked me in the cooler?”

“That wasn’t, exactly, hurt.”

“Except the part where I nearly died.”

“Come on, Ard, trust me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Or,” came a voice over Ferris’ shoulder, “you could trust me.”

“Go away, Marlon, this is my sister.”

“She is, indeed, and a lovely girl. Does she know what you were planning?”

“Crew business, Marlon, butt out.”

This was kind of fun to watch. Ardah leaned just inside her doorway and watched them. The slim, hawkish boy, who either didn’t have a Change or hadn’t un-masked yet, was smirking at her brother, half again his size. Challenging him, she realized.

“She’s not your Crew. I’m not your crew. She could be mine, though.” He held out one long-fingered hand to Ardah. “Which will it be? Me or your brother?”

Genealogy:
Ardah’s four sets of grandparents come from the following parings: Jamian/Tya, Eris/Shad (Wolf), Sarita/Finn, Kailani/Tolly

Her half-brother Ferris comes from: Jamian/Tya, Eris/Shad (Wolf), Mea/Taro (Petra), Mea/Rozen.

All I know about Marlon so far is that one of his grandparents is Raven, son of Wren and Phelen.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/110704.html. You can comment here or there.

(no subject)

Aug12

To rix_scaedu‘s prompt “Fridmar and Bowen…” in this flash-fiction meme (LJ).

This is Addergoole, current timeline, 2 years later, and 2 years after that.

Short non-AdderHooligan summary: Bowen, at the time of the first snippet, badly-Kept by an abusive Agatha. Fridmar, his Mentor, is known for having as his Students the darker sorts (see Rozen).

Year Five, Week Six
Bowen sat uncomfortably in his Mentor’s office, fiddling with his collar. He had orders about what he could say and couldn’t, but going up against the edge of his orders was sometimes enough; his face twisted and his ears went flat, and people seemed to understand what that meant.

“There’s got to be a way,” he said quietly, not quite begging. Professor Fridmar shook his head slowly.

“Being Ellehemaei about being strong,” he said, in his thick Russian accent. “What doesn’t kill you, et cetera. Find ways to be stronger.”

Year Seven, Week Eight
Professor Fridmar frowned over steepled fingers at Bowen. “Shira has been talking to me.” His tone suggested he didn’t like Professor Pelletier talking to him about anything; Bowen could already guess what this was about.

“Yeah?” Never show your cards.

“She says Adannaya has seemed strange lately. The girl is not complaining…” His look said what they both knew, that Ada wasn’t going to say anything against Bowen. “But Shira does not think she is happy.”

Bowen met his Mentor’s gaze evenly. “What doesn’t kill you, et cetera,” he quoted.

Year Nine, October

Bowen was unsurprised to find his old Mentor standing in his living room. They all knew, by now, that the professors stopped in on their former students, “to be sure they were all right.”

Cybele had let him in, pretty, doll-like Cybele, who ran his house. The Professor was sipping the tea Tanith had brought him, and studying the two women thoughtfully. When Bowen walked in with Kate, one bushy eyebrow rose.

Bowen couldn’t help but grin. The girls were happy, with or without orders. “Stronger,” he laughed. “And better.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/106882.html. You can comment here or there.

Arguments with one’s self

Jul20

This is a short story in response to rix_scaedu‘s commission in my Giraffe Sale: More of Ceinwen & Thornburn.

Addergoole Year 9, next in order with the rest of them – Dark Corners is a good pre-read to this for context.

By Tuesday, Ceinwen was beginning to get used to the collar, or, at least, to the way it felt around her neck. She didn’t find herself reaching up at every opportunity to touch it, and the movement it made, shifting with every move of hers, didn’t cause sudden, unwanted reminders of Thornburn and his arrogant, knowing smile.

She hadn’t yet gotten used to the way everyone’s eyes seemed to go to her throat, though. Sometimes it was other Ninth Cohort students, their own necks circled by something, looking lost, or still bare-necked and looking like they’d missed the memo. Sometimes it was upperclassmen and teachers with sympathetic looks.

The worst, however, were the other looks, the vaguely disappointed ones, especially from someone like Taliesin, who she’d really liked, who’d invited her to a poetry reading next weekend. Somehow, she didn’t think Thornburn would let her do that. Worse, she doubted the invitation was still open.

She didn’t mean to start crying about it – she’d been so good, holding in the tears, not letting Him see how upset he’d gotten her. She could have kept going, except the leer that Curry gave her as she walked into the Dining Hall, the whispered insinuation that he couldn’t wait until Thorn was ready to share her.

She fled before anyone could tell her to stop, relieved that He hadn’t thought to give her any orders about lunch yet, and kept running, choking on the tears she was trying to hold back.

She fell into the girls’ room almost accidentally, looking for a place to hide, somewhere He wouldn’t come looking. The bathroom seemed to fit the bill perfectly, so she slipped in, hiding in the last stall, and let the tears come.

She was his. She was a possession, and everyone knew it. Everyone who looked at her knew he’d marked her, caught her. From the leers some people were giving her, everyone thought they were having sex. And his friends thought, eventually, He’d get bored with her and share her with them.

Share her. The sobs bubbled up, and escaped, one after another. Things got shared. You lent your favorite CD, your favorite pants. Not your girlfriend. Not your friend. She gulped air, trying to calm down, and kept sobbing.

It felt as if every tiny thing since Saturday morning was coming out all at once. Basalt, who she’d thought was an okay guy, grabbing her arm and yanking her down a hole. Curry laughing and leering at her. Thornburn’s gentle, calm voice. “I’ll protect you. Be mine.”

His smirk, afterwards, as he showed her exactly what kind of power he’d given over her. The box where he’d locked a quarter of her stuff, then another quarter of it when she complained about the first bunch. The collar around her neck. The weight of it when she was naked, pressed against his clothed body for sleep. The darkness of his shadows, even in her dreams. The shadows all over this school. The light she’d shined on all of it.

She caught the next sob, swallowed it, and stood, slowly, remembering that light, and the warmth of it. She scrubbed at her eyes and stretched her back, talking herself into some semblance of calm. Curry was an ass, yes, but Thornburn had said, over and over again, that he Kept her (at least in part, and the “in part” worried her a bit) to protect her. Did she really think Thornburn would share her? Did Curry think it would happen? Or was Curry just trying to freak her out, to see how much he could affect her?

She scrubbed at her eyes in the sink, trying to work her mind around the uncomfortable feeling of being a possession, and the even more uncomfortable part of her that wanted to accept it, to accept Thornburn’s rule. She was so tangled in the internal argument, she didn’t notice the door had opened until, glancing in the mirror, she saw a face behind her.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/81915.html. You can comment here or there.

Road Trip

Jul17

This is a short story in response to rix_scaedu‘s commission in my Giraffe Sale: “What happens in Rozen’s territory after he’s packed off to Kailani?”

Addergoole/Fae Apoc. After Devil Deals (LJ Link) and Into the Woods (from Sugar Cat) and the subsequent events in Retirement and Retirement 2

He’d thought he’d have trouble moving among humans. He’d never had a particularly normal upbringing, after all, and then he’d spent decades in a sealed enclave of Ellehemaei society.

But humans, now, it seemed, were more interested in basic survival and less interested in shunning someone for odd behavior and, besides, for all he’d been cloistered away, he’d learned people. He could move from settlement to settlement, talking with his – Regine’s, really – contacts there, following the trail – without anyone suspecting he was anything more than a Mysterious (Human) Stranger, one of the Outriders who connected the sparse settlements. After all, that’s what he was.

He followed the trail for four months, the urgency growing with every stop, every step along the way. They’d known it would take some time to find his quarry, but they had thought a month, maybe two. Not four. While he’d traveled away from the enclave plenty of times since the Devastation, but never for more than two months. The distance, the separation, was beginning to wear on him as the months passed, and it made him a touchy, cranky Outrider, short with his contacts and cold with strangers. Someone who had known the young Ambrus, if they’d still survived, would not have recognized him in this cold and angry man.

His contact – her contact, but willing to talk to him – in the cold Northern township of Regina Beach was a young woman, at least in appearance, a blonde blue-eyed waif with a smile that reminded him of someone from a long time past. He worked through the required rituals with his best manners, transported for a moment to a time even longer past, when he was a child in his master’s home. And then, the spell broken with the bitter herbal tea, he cut to the chase before she could distract him into something Regine might regret.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“I know.” She gestured at the blue bowl on the table, the covered mirror. “I saw you’d come this way.”

“Then you can point me to his path?”

“I can do better than that. But there’s a price.”

There was always a price. “It’s not my mission, and there are only so many things I can promise on her behalf,” he warned her.

“This, you can give me.” He’d last seen that smile on the most poisonous child he’d ever sired. Was this sweet-looking girl her offspring? He suddenly wanted to see her Change, to see her ears.

“What is it you would have of me?” he asked instead. Wondering if she was his granddaughter, his great-granddaughter. Wondering if his orders would allow him to deny her, if she asked what he was afraid she would.

The look on her face, the sly twist of her emotions, told him she knew what he was thinking. “Not that. I imagine someone ought to ask you for something else, especially someone who has already had that blessing in her family line once or twice.”

So she was his descendant. Not surprising, all things considered; he allowed his relief to show in his face.

“Then what?”

“It’s not your only skill, I’ve been told. When you’re done with this mission, in the next six months, come back to us. There’s someone here who could use… your other skills, and your knowledge.”

He nodded slowly. “I will do that,” he agreed. No use in pretending to promise. “I can do that.”

“He’s North,” she told him. “One village up, about a day’s travel. Avoid the old warehouse; you don’t want to know what lives there. “

“Thank you.” Anxiety dropped from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you within the next half a year?”

“You will,” he nodded, and left, not stopping to sleep, not stopping to eat. The pressure of the mission had gone too far for that.

He found his quarry where she’d said he would be, in a cottage in a small town, with a young wife and a young child. He had no room left for even the smallest niceties at this point; “Regine needs you,” is all he managed.

“Regine can bite off and die,” Abednego answered just as bluntly.

Ambrus leaned weakly against his horse. It had been a long night, and the creatures in the old warehouse were nocturnal. “Of course,” he said, summoning up some fragment of his legendary charm. “But her enclave serves a useful purpose.”

“Others do, too, without being evil bitches for spice.” The lanky man paused, reading something in Ambrus’ face. “I know you love her, but…”

Ambrus shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m aware what people feel.”

“You would be, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t be in your shoes for anything.”

Ambrus looked down at his dusty boots; right now, he didn’t want to be in them, either.

Abednego misread the gesture; his voice softened. “Why don’t you come in, stay the night? I’ll hear you out on her ‘needs,’ at the very least.”

Ambrus pushed the need into a little corner, and nodded tiredly. “Thank you.” Given all night, he could do what his mistress needed him to. And then he could go home.

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Devil Deals

Jul10

I’m taking prompts ’til 6 tonight; this is both halves of Rix’s prompt, asking for Aviv & Rozen post-apoc. This takes part before Into the Woods, available in Tales for the Sugar Cat

Aviv:

There were times when doing what needed to be done meant strange partners and uncomfortable partnerships. He trekked alongside what had once been a highway, chewing over those thoughts. Some people, he’d never have to deal with again: Ardell and Delaney had gone over to the Nedetakaei and, while he would miss Del, he wouldn’t miss the partnership of them.

Baram had died. Ib was off somewhere hunting with Eris, speaking of strange partnerships. The Thornes… He hadn’t seen them in decades. He knocked on a tree for luck at that. Most of the baddies from Addergoole were gone, one way or the other, and yet here he was, weeks from home, looking for one of the baddest.

“You made it.”

And the big bad wolf had found him. He nodded acknowledgement at Rozen. “I told you I would.”

“Things get in the way, sometimes.” His tone said: for other people. Not for me.

“They move,” he shrugged in response. “So, you got my message.”

“I did. Safe haven for the likes of us?”

“Not everyone is as strong as you are. Some of them need protection.”

“From humans.” The disdain was thick; Aviv boggled, again, that this monster was still among the Shenera Endraae.

“From mobs,” he agreed mildly. “From humans.”

“And you’re the guy to provide that.”

“My team can provide that, yes,” he agreed. Stay mellow. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago, when he was far weaker than he was now.

“So what do you need from me?”

“Your hunting range is out of our current zone. Keep an eye out. Send them our way if they need it. Provide safe passage through your territory to those who just want to keep moving.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

This was the hard part. This is where you made deals with devils. “What do you want?”

Rozen:

“What do you want?”

He loved it when it came down to that. Then you got to set the terms of the engagement.

Truth be told, however, Aviv’s plan wasn’t all that bad of one. Not everyone had been gifted by a Change as nice as his, and the hatred the humans had for them was as broad and unthinking as any predjudice. Little things like Mea, like Dita, they had never done anything to deserve the mob hatred.

He smiled, letting the squiddy boy squirm on the hook a little bit. “Ah, now, that’s the question. Everyone wants something, right?” Though he really didn’t want for much. He had a nice set-up here. “So what I want is a hand with a little hunting.” Come down and play on my level, Saint Squid. You’ve never been as good as you thought you were.

Aviv was frowning; good. “Regine’s going to catch you at this eventually, Rozen. You can’t keep farming these people like your own personal crop of entertainment. It’s practically Nedetakaei.”

“Practically, but not. I abide by the terms of our arrangement,” he answered smoothly. “And as for Regine, she never fusses for all that long. She needs me guarding her flank too dearly.”

“Mmfg. So, what help do you need?” Seemed Regine wasn’t the only one that needed him to watch her back.

“They send me girls. But if they truss them up and send them like some sort of sacrifice, everyone cries and the girl doesn’t stop yelling for months. If I track them down in the forest and snatch them… it goes smoother.” And he’d never really liked the screaming.

“So if you kidnap them, they take it better than if their parents sell them?” Aviv frowned cynically. “You know, that makes a sick sort of sense. And you want me to help?”

“Hell, you know you’re good at it. Scare them a little. They’ll run right into my arms.”

This also takes part before Retirement

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