Tag Archive | yr9

Ciara: Pet Wolf

After Wolf in Hand (LJ)

Ciara had been asleep in the infirmary for a few hours when a noise
woke her. The doctor had been able to put her back together “good as
new,” but suggested firmly that an overnight stay would be good for
her, “just in case.” Ciara had agreed – there was really no point in
trying to argue with Dr. Caitrin anyway, certainly not with Luke
hovering over her – and had succumbed, once again, to unconsciousness.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke’s voice was quiet in the dark of the
mid-night clinic.

“She told me I could.” Amadeus was trying to keep his voice down, but
he had less practice than Luke. “Here, on page two.”

“She did,” Luke confirmed, a moment later. “But that doesn’t explain
why you’re here.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she heard her new Kept say, rather unwillingly, “I want to see if she’s okay.”

“You broke her leg, her wrist, and at least five of her ribs, as well as puncturing a couple of her internal organs. I wouldn’t say she’s okay.”

“She challenged me!” he flared, and then, quieter, “Dr. Caitrin fixed her, right?”

“She did,” Luke murmured. “Amadeus…” his voice dropped down lower than Ciara could hear.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.” From the sounds of it, Luke was pleased with himself. “You can see her now.”

Ciara kept her eyes closed and her breathing even as Amadeus walked in, although she couldn’t keep her heart from pounding a bit. What had her orders said about this? Shit, did she want him this close to her?

Little late for that, she told herself sternly, as his hand rested on her arm. “Ciara?” he whispered loudly. Then, when she “didn’t wake,” “Damnit, Ciara.”

She opened her eyes, glad it didn’t hurt to so, and stared at him. He stared back at her, angry. “You’re fine, right?”

She couldn’t help a little smile. “You’re all packed up?”

“Couldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Damnit, those orders…!”

Her smile was growing a bit. Irritating him didn’t seem wise, but, then again, he was hers now. “I didn’t expect you to be happy if I won. It seemed safer to be thorough.”

“If.” He was only getting angrier. “Are you telling me you weren’t sure? Why would you risk everything like that?”

“Why did you?”

He grumbled incoherently for a moment. “I didn’t think I could lose.”

“I was betting on that,” she admitted. Quieter, she added, “I’m told that Kept are happier if there’s physical contact.”

He leered, but his heart wasn’t in it. “This is what it takes to get into your bed?”

“Yes.” The bed was narrow, but wide enough. She scooted to one side, and patted the space next to her. “I didn’t want to be your pet, Amadeus.”

“So you arranged things so I’d be yours.” He sat down on the bed gingerly.

“Well.” She took his hand in her own. “From what I’m told, there’s some negotiation as to the exact role a Kept plays.”

“Meaning what?” He didn’t snatch his hand away, but his shoulders were still stiff and angry.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/308543.html. You can comment here or there.

Trying, A story of #Addergoole Yr8 for the Feburary Giraffe Call

After So I’ve Started Out (LJ) and Porter Needs a Girlfriend (LJ), to Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt.

Addergoole has a landing page here and on LJ.

She’d walked away the first time he’d brought it up. “The Bond takes away your choice,” she’d said.

“So does not asking me,” he’d retorted. She’d shook her head angrily, making him want to grovel and apologize, but all she’d said, maddeningly, was the same thing she always did:

“You do not understand.”

“Explain it to me,” he complained, but only after she’d shut the door behind her.

When he tried again, he went at it sideways, talking about Porter first. Porter did, after all, need a girlfriend. But, then again, so did Arundel.

“Would you like to have a boyfriend,” he asked her, “me, I mean?”

She’d been surprised, which wasn’t really a good plan – she hated, he already knew, being surprised. She pursed her lips, and he ignored his sudden urge to apologize. “Would you ask that, if I didn’t Own you? Answer me honestly.”

“I would have asked sooner, if you didn’t Own me. Like, the day I fell through your ceiling… okay, maybe not then, but pretty soon after then.”

“In truth?” Darnit, he’d surprised her again.

“You ordered me to be honest,” he pointed out, beginning to get frustrated. He couldn’t win with her. “I want to be your boyfriend. I want to kiss you. I want you to believe me when I talk to you.”

She stared off at the wall, frowning. “That could be the Bond,” she pointed out. “It makes you want physical contact, even if you wouldn’t, otherwise.”

She was going to talk herself out of it. Again. And leave him frustrated and her cranky. Arundel flared his wings, wanting to shout. Shouting was a bad idea. Shouting would only make her more angry.

“So if it’s the Bond,” he said slowly, “then you’re worried I will regret it afterwards?”

“Exactly. You’re acting under the influence. You’re not thinking clearly, cannot think clearly when the Bond is pushing at you.”

“And you’re worried that a Bond-induced need for physical contact is making me want to kiss you.”

She lifted her shoulders and dropped them again in discomfort. “The thought did occur to me, yet. I am not, normally, dating material.”

“The people that let you think that are lying to you,” he flared. “Or you’re lying to yourself.”

“I have never had a boyfriend who wasn’t… I have never had a boyfriend.”

“Well, maybe you should try?” he tried, one last time. “Look, if you’re worried it’s the touch thing, how about an experiment?”

“An experiment?” He had her attention, good.

“Figure out what you think is a Bond-satisfying amount of touch, and give me that for a week. No dating, no kissing, nothing like that. Just touch. If I still want to date you after a week…”

She was nodding. Good, nodding was a good thing. “If you still want to date me after a week of regular touch, then we can assume it’s a genuine want.” She graced him with a small smile and took both his hands in hers. “That’s a clever idea, Arundel.”

His heart soared like he was flying. “I try,” he answered in complete honesty.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/306678.html. You can comment here or there.

A sequential vignette of Addergoole, Year 9

To Friendly Anon’s prompt; a continuation of this vignette (LJ)

“So,” Porter asked, hat in hand and clearly uncomfortable, “are you going to help?”

“That’s a silly question,” Sylvia informed him. She stood up and turned the TV off. “Arundel is in my crew. Of course I’m going to help. Besides,” she added, as she would to no one save Porter, “I like him. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Porter grinned at her, giving her the impression he’d just wanted to hear her say that. “I like him too. So, what’s the plan?”

“First, we determine the situation. Then, we determine the possible outcomes. Then we determine a course of action.”

Porter nodded. “Practical.” As he held open the door for her, he added, “You’re always practical, Sylvia.”

She nodded brusquely, not sure if it was intended as a compliment, but certain it was accurate to his perception of her. It was, after all, a perception she’d cultivated.

“Let’s go get Arundel out of trouble.” She smiled, or did a little mouth-grimace that people could interpret as a smile if they tried (She didn’t like full smiles, never had, less so with her new teeth), and headed out into the world, or at least into the halls of Addergoole.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/304696.html. You can comment here or there.

Silent Song

To Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt and @Inventrix’s request, the second half of a continuation of Porter Needs a Girlfriend (LJ), after Siren Song (LJ).

Porter fell.

He’d been pretty sure he was going to, but knowing you were going to and suddenly falling were different things.

He flailed, kicking his legs and shouting. The floor seemed a long way down. Why were the levels so far apart in this school? What if he broke something…

He landed while he was still worrying, both feet hitting the floor by some freak chance, and stumbled backwards until he fell into something.

He was… on a soft carpet, surrounded by bookshelves. In the Library, then? He slapped both hands over his mouth. He’d been shouting in the Library! He was going to catch hell for sure!

What was worse… he’d fallen into the Library. In the middle of the Library. If someone didn’t find him, he was going to end up late for dinner. Late for Timora’s mystery dinner date with hopefully-a-Ninth-Cohort.

And, really, to be pragmatic, he could be trapped in here forever, or until he found a door or a Door that got him out. Priorities.

A sign appeared in front of his nose. Please remember to remain quiet in the Library. The font was frilly, and the little sign was bordered with little purple flowers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just…”

The sign vanished, and another appeared. Please refrain from lewd activity in the Library.

“Wait, what?” he asked in a hurried hiss. “I…” He was leaning against something, wasn’t he? He twisted to look behind him. “…Oh. Sorry.” The statue in whose embrace he’d been cuddled looked as embarrassed as Porter felt. “You should get her some clothes. Look, um,” the signs were from the Librarian, right? “Um… sa’Librarian?” That might work… please? “I didn’t mean to drop in like this, but I’m a little lost…”

A third sign appeared. Please refrain from becoming lost in the Library.

“I’m trying, I really am, but there was this Siren, so I dove overboard, and overboard happened to be here…” He flailed. “I open Doors, you see. But this place doesn’t come with a decent floor plan.”

The next sign that appeared was hand-written, still florid but without the decorations. “You open… Doors. Show me. This way.” And then a sign with an arrow.

“I, uh…” His dinner was getting further and further away. “Yes… ma’am? Sa’Librarian. What do you want me to show you?” He wandered in the direction of the arrow, avoiding the eyes of the statue. “Hunh. History. I’ve never found this section before.”

A sign appeared: a flower-wreathed stop sign. Porter stopped obediently, hoping that, somehow, this would lead to dinner. Somehow.

He was standing in front of a section of blank wall, about the size of a doorway, something he’d never before seen in the Library. The arrow appeared again, pointing at the wall.

“You want me to open this? All right, I can do that. I hope,” he added in a mutter. “But do you know what’s on the other side?”

The arrow simply pointed again and, sighing, Porter opened a Door and stepped through.

Next: Iridium Hole, LJ

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/303624.html. You can comment here or there.

Siren Song

To Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt and @Inventrix’s request, the first half of a continuation of Porter Needs a Girlfriend (LJ).

Other than 4500 words on Addergoole-proper, this is all I’ve written in days. It feels weird. O_O Yeah. I’ve been THAT sick.

It wasn’t that Porter minded his friends’ “help” in getting him a girlfriend. After all, he knew that he’d need to get a girlfriend, or at least someone cooperative in baby-making, sometime in his four years at Addergoole. Possibly twice, even.

It was just that they – although he suspected Timora, from the amused, wicked looks she was giving him – kept picking such imposing girls, girls that didn’t seem to smile much, girls that, in some cases, didn’t really seem to even like guys.

He was pretty sure that Timora was trying to mess with his head, he just didn’t know why.

He was also hopeful, because it looked like these dinner dates were working their way down through the Cohorts, which meant, if he was going to have a “surprise” date tonight, it would probably be a Ninth Cohort. And, aside from Timora, none of the Ninth Cohorts he’d met were really at all scary.

“Hey, Kitty, Kitty.” Too late, Porter looked up, realizing that, lost in thought and hurrying to get home for the theoretical Ninth Cohort Dinner Date, he hadn’t been paying attention.

Lots of people called him Kitty. Only one person did it in that unctuous tone of voice, like she was grooming his name.

“Tess.” And because she and her crewmate were never far apart, “Lucian.”

“Hey, Kitty.” Lucian leaned against the wall behind Porter. “Have you had a chance to think about our invitation?”

“Your…” He looked between the two of them, Tess’s green eyes boring into him, Lucian’s close-winged pose deceptively closed, making him look harmless. “Oh,” he smiled, and choked out a little laugh. “I thought that was a joke. I mean, I already have a crew…” And even if Sylvia runs everything, I trust her.

“Ah, but we could really use your power, pretty kitty.”

“So you want me for my doors, not my drawers.” In a way, he was relieved. Tess was a very frightening woman when she wanted something, and Lucian was little better.

Like that laugh. He chuckled throatily behind Porter. “We wouldn’t mind both, would we, Tess?”

Eep. Feeling like he was being eaten with their eyes, he cast around for the quickest Door surface. There was under his feet – but that could have unpleasant consequences. You never knew how far away the floor would be, for one, and it was hard to close the door after yourself.

“Mmm. There’s not much I’d mind with him,” Tess agreed. A quick glance told porter that the scales running down both sides of her neck were shifting color, from “safe” white-and-green to deep red. Her voice was taking on that funny tone to it, like she had a reverb going, and Porter knew what that meant.

“No,thank you.” Sailors of legend had dived over the sides of ships to get to sirens. Porter dived through the floor to escape this one.

He pulled the door upwards, grabbed the handle that was created when he did that, and swung down onto the third floor by the handle, yanking the door shut with his weight.

And then, of course, the doorknob vanished.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/300341.html. You can comment here or there.

Detente

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of Damn List (LJ).

Addergoole has a landing page here.

I should really get around to figuring out what Ahouva’s Changes are.

Basalt sat down under the shade of an apple tree, at the edge of a beautiful little orchard, and patted the ground next to him. “So, that list. Let’s talk about it, okay?”

Ahouva sat down where he indicated, smoothing her skirt under her. A little dirt would come out in the wash, and she didn’t want to make him any unhappier. “Okay?” She wished she could just burn it. She wished he’d never ordered her to write the stupid thing.

“Let’s start with that last one.”

She winced, and pulled her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry! It’s…” It wasn’t fair, forcing her to be honest like that. She could do so much better if he let her keep things to herself.

“It’s fear. It’s a natural emotion, but it’s not exactly a fun one. And I can’t blame you for not liking it.” He took her notebook from her and looked at that last item again. “‘I don’t like being scared of my Keeper.’ I wouldn’t, either, Ahouva.”

She peeked up at him. He didn’t look angry. Yet. “I can’t imagine you scared of anything.”

“I was scared when I was Kept. I wasn’t scared of Brydan, but I was scared of not having any control over anything. I get angry when I’m scared, though.”

She nodded, gulping a little bit. “I just get worried.” That was almost true, at least. She could remember, Before, getting angry about it. But that was another world.

“I don’t blame you. So…. how can I help you not be scared?”

“You could order me not to?” she offered in a tiny voice. The don’t-feel-this-way orders were the worst. But it would stop the problem, right?

“No, honey.” He was frowning, but it was gentle somehow. “I mean, why do I frighten you?”

“Oh.” She quailed, but the truth bubbled out. “Because you’re scary!” When he didn’t yell at her or even frown, she hurried on. “You’re big and you’re stronger than anyone I know and I have no idea what you’re going to do or when this kid-gloves thing is going to be over and Basalt, I don’t know what you want!”

As soon as it had been said, she regretted it, slapping both hands over her mouth and flinching back. But he, he was smiling.

“Okay, that’s fair. I’m kind of big and rock-headed, I know that. Hunh. If I promise that I will tell you if you are doing something wrong, and give you a chance to fix it, before grumbling, will that help?”

She moved her hands away from her mouth, peeking at him. “You’d do that?”

“Honey, if it will help you relax, I’d promise a lot more than that.” He patted her shoulder. “I don’t like making you scared either.”

She relaxed a little, feeling as if she’d managed another hurdle. “Okay. Okay… yes? Yes, please?”

“I promise,” he smiled. “I’ll tell you and give you a chance to fix it if you’re doing something wrong, before I get angry with you. Okay?”

She blinked at him, feeling as if a giant weight was lifted off of her chest. “No secret mistakes? No tests?”

“None. I’m not bright enough for that.” He offered her an arm and, relieved, she cuddled into it, pressing against him, thinking her new master might be a lot brighter than he thought he was.

She relaxed, there, snuggled against his warmth for a bit, thinking maybe he’d stop there. And for the nicest five minutes she’d had in weeks, maybe months, he did. And then…

“So, the rest of the list.”

“Um?” She peeked up at him. “I’m fine.”

“I know you don’t like talking about it. Can you tell me why?”

“Because you don’t like it,” she answered quietly. “You’re always frowning.”

“Oh.” He frowned, and then, catching himself, made a gruesome grimace, and then another, before settling on something like a smile. Catching sight of her expression – she couldn’t tell whether to laugh or be terrified – the smile turned real. “That’s the face I make when I’m thinking, Ahouva, that’s all. And you make me think, a lot.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “That’s a good thing.”

She nodded, blushing. “So…” she offered, as he moved his finger away, “you aren’t angry when you do that”?

“No,” he shook his head. “No, not at all. I’m trying to figure out how to get to a place where we’re both happy.”

“Oh.” She blinked at him. “You could tell me what you want. That would make me happy.”

He laughed. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Ahouva. I don’t want you to just do what I want all the time.”

“Then let me go.” She slapped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late, the words were already out. And he… She peeked over her hands. He was smiling. Grinning.

“Atta girl,” he laughed. “That’s my Ahouva back. C’mon, let it out.”

Let it out was a very vague order, so, since he was smiling, and since he’d promised to warn her before punishing her, she poked him in the chest. “If you want me to act like myself, you can’t order it. Ordering is all about being a good pet. Being an obedient Kept. Ordering me to think about myself is counter-productive and it’s confusing.”

He looked startled, but he didn’t tell her to stop, so she didn’t.

“If you want me to be myself, Basalt, stop worrying about being a good Owner and just be a good person around me. You want to date your Kept… date me. Or something. Talk to me like a person and not a project. I’m not a broken window.” She wrinkled her nose, as her brain caught up with her mouth. “Or just Keep me,” she added, flinching a little bit, “but not like… ordering me to be honest. It sucks.”

He blinked. “Brydan…” He shook his head. “Right. That was different. And you… all right, Ahouva. I’ll try. May I kiss you?”

That seemed like a nice start. “Can I stop letting it out?” she countered, feeling more like herself than she had in a long time.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/298440.html. You can comment here or there.

Ciara: Wolf in the Hand

After Wolf in the Circle (LJ).

Ciara was floating, for a moment, dreaming of a pasture full of bulls, angry bulls, stomping their feet and grumbling.

She came to in a rush of disorientation, to find Luke leaning over her, his wings spread wide like a canopy, sheltering her from view. “There you are,” he murmured. “Clever girl. I got you stabilized, but you need to go to the doctor’s.”

She nodded, startled at how much energy that seemed to take. “Amadeus…?”

“He’s standing right here, holding your purse.” Luke looked worried. “Ciara…”

“I know. Tigers and tails.” She nodded. “Muzzle him before I let go of the tail.”

“Good girl. I’m going to pick you up now.” He did so, gently, and she could see, then, the remaining crowd, hovering around looking – disappointed? Surprised? Some, at least, looked happy – and Amadeus, definitely looking murderous.

“Amadeus. There’s a notebook in my purse. Get it out. The items on the first page, that begin with ‘do not harm or attempt to harm Ciara,’ are your standing, long-term, permanent orders. Read them, obey them. The second page, beginning ‘go to your room and pack your belongings,’ are your orders for today. Read them, obey them. You may keep the notebook, but I want my purse back now.”

Looking absolutely poleaxed, he did as she ordered, handing her the purse and reading the notebook with an increasingly unhappy expression.

“The order to not touch anyone or anything is void now,” she added, and then let herself go limp in Luke’s arms. She’d expected him to hurt her. She’d needed him angry enough to lose control, and she’d know that would likely involve some damage. But she hadn’t expected it to hurt quite this much.

“Done?” Luke’s voice was pitched for her ears alone. She nodded, and he carried her across the hall to the Doctor’s office.

As he set her on the exam table, the normally dour PE teacher smiled at her. “You planned the whole thing, didn’t you?”

She shrugged, just a little – even that hurt. “I just like making lists.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/293303.html. You can comment here or there.

Wolf in the Circle

After Wolf at the Door (LJ)

Warning: contains violence.

“This is insanity, you know.” Tynan and Ellen followed Ciara from their suite to the gym, Tynan scolding her the entire way. “Key, if you lose this challenge, there’s not going to be anything we can do to help you.”

Ciara shook her head. “If he decided he was sick of waiting for me to give in and dragged me off into his room, what could you do?” she countered. “Ty, El, I have a plan.”

“Does it involve cookies?” Ellen asked, eying the platter Ciara was carrying.

“They’re the backup plan,” she admitted. “Stay away from the ones with the red sprinkles.”

“Right. Avoiding Ciara’s cookies.” Ellen rolled her eyes. “Tynan is right. This is crazy.”

“I know,” she agreed, keeping her voice quiet. “But so is he, so is this entire school. The only way to get through it is to be as crazy as everyone else.”

“Or, you know, just keep your head down and get through your first year. He’ll be gone and you won’t have to worry.”

“I’ve got this, guys. It’s too late to back out, anyway.” She set the cookies on the table at the side of the gym, and walked towards the circle Luke had drawn for them.

“Are you sure, Ciara?” the PE teacher asked quietly.

She wished everyone would stop asking her that, but totally understood why they were. “I’m sure,” she agreed. “Besides, here he comes.”

Amadeus looked a little bit lost. He came surrounded by his own friends, and yet, while they were talking to him, he wasn’t talking back. He barely seemed aware they were there. Ciara swallowed a smile. If she had knocked him off his game, even a little, she might stand a chance.

A tiny chance.

She stepped into the circle and bowed to her opponent.

“It’s not too late to concede, you know,” he grinned at her. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You could concede, too,” she reminded him. “I’d be gentle.”

That made him snarl. “You can’t win. Whatever trick you think you have, I’m still older and stronger than you are.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” she smiled back at him. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he growled, dropping his Mask. “No Workings, first one to leave te circle loses.”

“Exactly. Luke?”

“Just remember everything you break Caitrin has to put back together,” he grumbled. “Begin.”

Amadeus’ eyes seemed to be flashing red flames. “You’re going to pay for this, little girl,” he snarled, and attacked.

She’d been expecting violence, and knew her own combat skills, while she’d been practicing, were probably not up to par with an upperclassmen. But getting hurt was part of her plan anyway, so all she had to do was dodge as much as she could without stepping out of the circle.

And he looked like he wanted to take his time. Break her down, break her… ow. Bones. She fell to a knee as he landed a sharp kick on her spine. He wanted to make her…ow. He kicked her in the shoulder, snapping something. He wanted to make her flee the circle, not to throw her out. That might mess with her plans a … ow. She managed to get back to her feet, just in time to catch his fist with her ribs.

“Think about it,” he hissed, “when you’re Mine…”

Oh, he was good and pissed now. She smiled through a cracked lip. “When you’re Mine,” she teased, and, finally, he rushed her.

He got her again, once in the face, once in the kidney, once in her ribs, snapping something inside of her, and then grabbed her, clearly intending to throw her out of the circle.

She was barely conscious. She hadn’t planned on that. Weakly, hurriedly, she pulled on her innate power – not a Working, not forbidden, any more than his
strength was – and sent most of the force he imparted in the throw back at himself, saving and redirecting just enough to send herself downwards, hard, still inside the circle.

“Done,” Luke shouted, as Amadeus landed against the gym wall. “Done, with Ciara the winner. Good job, girl.”

She looked up, weakly, as the promises they had made before the match made Amadeus say “Ciara – damn you, bitch – I Belong to you.”

“You do,” she agreed. “Grab my purse, don’t touch anything or anyone else, and…” that was all she had energy for. She let the pain take her away.

Next:
Ciara: Wolf in the Hand

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/283238.html. You can comment here or there.

Presented

For [profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt – more of “Birthday Present,” from the December Giraffe Call.

Addergoole has a landing page here

Content warnings: mind control.

“I’m not…” Noam gave up. If this infuriating bitch wanted to think he was stupid, let her. What would it matter? He was trapped. he couldn’t move, and, even if he could, he’d been paying attention. He couldn’t really get away from her – the school had no exits, or, if they had, he hadn’t gone through enough of the dungeon to find them yet – so running was, at best, a stalling measure.

It’s her birthday… You should thank me.

“Thank you,” he said, not certain if it had been an order or not. “You think Brenna will like me?” As conversational gambits went, that one was pretty lame, but she already thought he was a moron, and he wasn’t really trying to make friends with her. He had her pretty firmly in the category of not-friend, and planned on keeping her there.

“I know I had a ribbon around here somewhere… Aistrigh unutu. There, that ought to match your patterning better. Hold still.”

“Already holding still,” he muttered.

“Aren’t you clever,” she crooned sarcastically, as she tied a teal-green ribbon around his neck. “Yes, I think Brenna will like you. She’d been complaining that she can’t find anyone.”

“She talks, then?” He hadn’t been certain.

Hera chuckles. “She’s shy. It’s probably why she can’t find anyone. But you’ll be good to her, won’t you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well…” She patted his shoulder and studied him thoughtfully. “I plan on giving you to her, you know, not Keeping you myself and letting her just play with you. That would be entertaining, I suppose, but you’re really not my type.”

“I guessed,” he muttered. Too pretty, too dumb…

“Mm-hrmm. I like my men shorter, brighter, and stronger. Less Dionysus and more Hephaestus.”

The back-handed complements and insults were giving him whiplash. She liked him, but she thought he was stupid. Not her type, but pretty and god-like. He wanted to nod, couldn’t, so just made a little noise instead.

“Don’t grunt, dear, it’s not pretty. Here, take you… no. you’re holding still like a good boy.” She stood on her toes to unbutton his shirt and tug it out of his pants, leaving him blushing at the contact. “There. You may move enough to take your shirt off. Leave it on my bed.”

He shrugged his shirt off and let it fall on the mess of her blankets. Like this, almost all the markings of his Change were showing. He hoped she decided that was enough, and didn’t make him show the rest of them.

“Mmm.” She studied her work critically. “One more ribbon… Aistrigh unutu… you can move enough to put your wrists behind your back, crossed over each other.”

He didn’t like where that was going, but he did it anyway, rolling his shoulders a little bit, trying to get comfortable. She walked around behind him, muttering to herself, nothing he could quite hear, and tied the second ribbon around his wrists, rather firmly.

“Don’t try to get out of that, mind you. You can move now. Follow me; we’re going to go see Brenna.”

“My shirt?” he asked, even though he had a feeling it was a lost cause.

“Mmm. I’ll bring it by later, don’t want to ruin the effect. Hush now, and not another word until Brenna says you’re hers.”

He hushed and followed, because he didn’t have any choice in the matter, frowning at her back. He felt conspicuous, exposed, and cold, all of which were pretty accurate, shirtless, bound, and following a girl more than a foot shorter than him like a trained puppy.

What if someone sees me like this? was quickly replaced by Is he looking at me? as they came upon Jabez. The short, dark, dragon-like boy shared a PE class and a History class with Noam, but they’d never really spoken. His eyes slid right over Noam now.

“Hera,” he nodded at the short girl, and

“Hey, Jabez,” she replied, and that was it. Noam might as well have not been there at all.

“Don’t frown,” Hera scolded, when the other boy was out of sight around a curve. “It makes you look sullen.”

He felt sullen. But he smiled anyway, trying to make it not look horribly fake.

“That’s better.” She patted his shoulder as she stopped by a door in another pod. Noam’s heart did weird things in his chest as she knocked, and he spent a bad couple minutes trying to find a loophole in her orders. He didn’t really have to stand here waiting like a… well, like a birthday present, did he?

But he did, and he had just sighed in frustration when the door opened.

Brenna hadn’t been expecting company, he was fairly certain: she was wearing a long t-shirt over leggings, her hair pulled back in a kerchief. Her TV was going in the background, and the smell of popcorn filled the room.

“Hera!” She stepped back into her room a couple jittery steps, looking uncertain. “And… Noam?” Her voice squeaked a little. “Hera, what did you…”

“Happy birthday, Brenna.” She pushed Noam forward until he almost bumped against her friend’s threshold. “He’s yours now.”

“You… got me a boy?” She reached out for Noam, and, somehow, he managed not to flinch back. “You got me Noam?

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t ask, so he smiled gamely at her. She’d always seemed like a nice girl. Could she fix this?

“I did. Take him, Brenna, I think you’ll have fun breaking him in.”

No, no, he didn’t want that. He shook his head unhappily, nervously, but Brenna just smiled. She had, he noticed, what would be a very nice smile under other circumstances.

“I think I will. This is the nicest gift I’ve gotten this year. Come in, Noam, you’re mine now.”

“Tell her your hers,” Hera urged from behind him, as, for lack of anything better to do, Noam stepped into Brenna’s room.

“I’m yours,” he said unwillingly, and then clamped his mouth shut.

“Very good. Hera…”

“You two have fun,” Hera chirped, and headed down the hall. Brenna closed the door, locking a struggling Noam – he could struggle! He’d better do it fast! – in with her.

“So…” She looked him up and down, smiling uncertainly. “This might be fun.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/281557.html. You can comment here or there.

Mission to Paris

For @theladyisugly’s commissioned prompt: “VanderLinden & Aelfgar’s child has some mission in Paris” from the January Giraffe Call.

Belfreja is an Addergoole Year Nine student; this is set sometime around the end of year 15 – before the apocalypse but after she has been out of school for a bit.

Addergoole has a landing page here

Belfreja studied the dossier one last time, made sure she had memorized all pertinent details, ran her fingers over the silk of the underwear, and then dropped it all in the garbage bin and muttered a quick Abatu Unutu under her breath, destroying everything in the bin.

She remembered Yuriko from their time together at school. The girl had been a Cohort behind her, and spent most of her time with different people, but eventually everyone talked to Belfreja. She’d spent four years making certain that was true, and then three more years after graduation reinforcing it.

They called her, those that called her by such Names, The Connection, and for three years, she had been making connections, drawing people in, working with people for her own purposes, and for those of the Organization. A storm was coming, they all knew, and they needed to be prepared. Belfreja prepared by meeting people, and by convincing them.

She left the airport, shedding her coat in one garbage can and, a mile later, letting the red in her hair slowly change to its natural golden. Even Regine couldn’t watch entire cities, after all, and she wanted Yuriko to recognize her. With her horns Masked, the hair would have to do it. The hair and… she unbuttoned one button and took a deep breath, shifting that part of her Mask as well, to show her other assets. Yuriko might be straight. Addergoole did, on occasion, graduate one or two. But she’d remember Belfreja for her assets. Everyone always did.

There were others that could find people better than Bel could. There were others that could hide from surveillance better than she could. But when you got down to the nit and grit of it, no-one could connect people like she could.

She called on an old friend at a cafe, chatted about the weather and the incoming storm, mentioned a friend out in the mountains of Spain who was making a “retreat” deep into the side of the mountains, well away from prying eyes. In the conversation, she dropped Yuriko’s description – her Masked description – and was rewarded with a suggestion she talk to someone at a cafe down the road.

At the cafe down the road, she ate croissants and sipped tea with a man she’d first met her first year out of Addergoole. They talked about politics, French, American, British, worldwide, and, in twists and turns around that conversation, about the politics of the Ellehemaei. They murmured suggestions for hiding-holes, and whispered even more quietly of the problems with the Council, and the problems with those who would defy the Council.

They didn’t speak of rebellion. They both enjoyed living.

In the twists of that conversation, she told him she was looking for Yuriko, and he told her he thought the girl had been working at the cafe across the street. She kissed him for old time’s sake, and moved on.

The cafe across the street had no friends of hers, so she had to make a new one. The waitress behind the counter had the right look to her, so Belfreja spent an entertaining hour chatting her up, and was sure to tip generously and ostentatiously. When the waitress was thanking her, she mentioned the pretty Asian friend from school she was looking for…

…oh, so sad, Yuriko had quit. She’d gotten a better job at a cafe across town.

Sh stopped on the way to chat up a street vendor, bought a pair of sunglasses from him and flirted for a little while, talking about the way life was these days, talking about the craziness of the world.

She leaned forward as she talked, letting him ogle the way her assets fell just a bit out of her blouse, how the white lace of her bra showed under her silk blouse. She liked to flirt, of course; she was, in some ways, always going to be her mother’s daughter.

(And, unlike her half-siblings, also one of her mother’s greatest nightmares – but that was a tale to which this was only the prelude).

And people, many people, liked to flirt back with her. The sunglass-vendor told her three personal secrets and seventeen pieces of gossip by the time she had to make up an appointment to move on, and had given her the name of an awesome cheese-monger and a phenomenal hairdresser.

As she left, he had, as happened to her more often than was believable, slipped her a piece of paper telling of a meeting happening in a secret location, and the person she could go to to find that meeting. Belfreja attracted revolutionaries the way her siblings attracted lovers.

She pocketed the paper; if her business with Yuriko went quickly, she’d check it out. Not only did she attract certain people, she really enjoyed cultivating them. She enjoyed, in a manner, cultivating everyone. It was part of her charm.

But she had to reach Yuriko before the girl knew she was coming, which meant getting across town sometime before the world ended, a shorter time limit now that it might have once been. So she cut her chit-chat with the next vendor to a mere half an hour, and hurried to the cafe where, she was pretty sure, her quarry would be.

She was rewarded for her diligence at Le Chat D’Argent et Noir, where, at a back table, a pretty girl with Japanese features and mocha skin was flirting with a customer. Belfreja picked a seat with care. She wanted it to take a while for Yuriko – she was pretty sure it was her, at this point; the green eyes were a dead giveaway – to notice her, but she wanted to be able to see if the girl left the restaurant, too.

Once seated, she sipped on her third coffee of the day, chatted up the handsome waiter, and, in between sips, muttered a Working to tell her more about her target.

It was Yuriko, that was certain; most people wore their self-identity like a name tag on their psyche, and she was no different. Blue-green with purple notes, a dream of the sky and feet barely planted on the earth, a flighty thing, a pretty thing, with a smile that could brighten the world.

That family line got the prettiest Changes, but it was Yuriko’s weather ability, and her skill at manipulating chaos, that had sent Bel to recruit her. That, and the fact that she was easily bullied, but only if you knew the right words.

Bel liked people whose keys she could twist, but only if nobody else could.

Once she’d gauged Yurkio’s identity and her mood, she shifted so that the girl could see her, making sure her Mask looked identical to her last year at Addergoole, making sure she looked like she wasn’t looking at her quarry, posed herself, and waited.

She was rewarded in short time by a quiet gasp and the sound of footsteps – towards her, good. They hadn’t been friends, but they hadn’t been enemies, either.

“Bel,” Yurkio said, from behind her, maybe hoping to surprise her. Bel jumped a little, just for fun, and turned, smiling.

“Oh, Yuri! I was hoping to find you here!”

“You were?” Yurkio sat down, looking unhappy. “I’ve got years till Tethys and Sören have to go to school.”

“You do,” she agreed. “I’m not here from Addergoole. I don’t work for them.”

“You don’t? I thought… your parents…”

Bel smiled ruefully. “Lots of people think that, sadly, but no. I’m not all that much like my parents. Either of them.”

“Blonde and beautiful.”

“But not, however, superficial. Unlike my maternal parent.” And unlike, she didn’t say, that judgement of me.

She didn’t need to say it; she was good like that. Yuriko nodded reluctantly. “Sorry. So, you were looking for me?”

“I was,” she agreed. “You have some very nice skills that are wasted working here, Yuri.”

“But I like wasting them working here,” the other girl pointed out sharply. “It’s pretty, it’s peaceful, and nobody bothers my kids.”

“It is all that,” she agreed. “But it’s not going to last.”

“You can’t know that!” The places where hooks would go were beginning to get formed. Bel started sharpening those hooks.

“I don’t,” she agreed, “but people I know do. It’s not a hard prognostication, and it’s being seen pretty regularly now.”

There, there was the first barb. Yuriko knew about seers. She’d been cy’Peletier, after all.

“I,” she frowned. “Not just in the States?”

“Not even first in the States. But we’re bunkering down, anyway, up north where things seem to be likely to stay stable.”

Stable was a good one; she could see it hit home. “And my kids?”

“Good teachers, other kids to play with – normal kids.” Normal was code for human, and human could be a very good thing… yes. Yes, she was almost hooked.

“And you could really use my skills? I could consider it…” she dithered.

Bel slipped in the final hook. “Jasper’s already there.”

Yuriko’s eyes widened. She’d always been fond of her second child’s father. Was she fond enough? “I’m in.”

Bel smiled. “Wonderful.” She loved her job.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/280348.html. You can comment here or there.