Archive | July 2011

Three Inches, unknown

Jul10

This is from @Inventrix’s prompt for “a Pookah;” @DaHob picked species and name. Um, I might have just put pookah in Planner ‘Verse.

The world looked different down at 3″ from the pavers. More importantly, to Cynthia’s point of view, SHE looked different to the world at three inches from the pavers.

If she wasn’t careful, what she would look like was dinner, but she could work around that. Work under it, really; her small form was very good at burrowing, and there was a lot of space where the dirt was bare, space that, from her dim memories, would have been covered over, the last time she was through this city.

She’d eaten her way through a book, once, that had in it voles that really had to be called supervoles. Giant creatures that could dig through anything. While she wasn’t quite that impressive in her small form – she was under a foot long, after all – she could make mincemeat of loam or even hardpack clay.

And once she was there, under the lines of the wild gangs, under the places where the dirt tasted unhealthy and smelled like poison, she could pull back up, dirty and tired after an entire day but safe, into the small gardens at the heart of the city. She could pop her head up, and then the rest of her, traverse the rose garden while still tiny and furry, and then, with a shake to dislodge the dirt, she could stand.

The other girls in the chief’s harem wondered why she was his favorite. She was, they said, mousy (she didn’t correct them), small and a bit stout and brown. Her nose was pointed. But she, unlike them, got information to the chief that nobody else could and, while she lived, he would pamper and protect her, for that.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/75262.html. You can comment here or there.

Waiting Vigil

Jul10

I’m taking prompts ’til 6 tonight; this is [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt”The beach, overnight in winter.” Unknown ‘verse.

It had been snowing, so June and Tyler bundled up, layer after layer, then wrapped up together in a blanket.

They pitched their tent on the edge of a beach nobody went to. Once, it had been busy, overpopulated, but there wasn’t anyone living in the city areas nearest anymore, and so it was empty in the summer and totally abandoned now, the shortest day of the year, the longest night. They weren’t going to get driven off. They weren’t even going to get noticed, even with the fire they’d lit.

That suited them. This vigil was a private thing, between the three of them. They set the tent as the sun began to fall beneath the edge of the lake, brushing the snow out of the way so that they were staked out on sand – just as cold, but less wet – then lit their fire and wrapped up to watch.

“Do you remember…” Junie started, once or twice.

“Mmng,” Tyler would answer, and she’d fall quiet. But she knew he remembered. The scenes were acid-etched behind her eyes; how could they be any less behind his? Besides, what else were they sitting out here for, but a memory?

The moon rose, clear in a cloudless sky, and their fire burnt down slowly, to embers, while Tyler grunted his avoidance to any conversation and Junie, without the buffer of words to help, fell into those memories. The sparks brought back visceral images of the last fire, the one that got a capital F, like it was the avatar of flame. The waves lapping against the sand reminded her of footsteps, slowly dragging out into the ice-cold water. A year. Two years. Three years. And every winter solstice, they would come out here.

The night reached its nadir, and they stared, silent, out at the water, waiting for the footfalls. Waiting for Cay to walk back to them.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/74822.html. You can comment here or there.

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

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/74653.html. You can comment here or there.

Taking Prompts!

Jul10

…between now and 24 hours from when I began (18:32 EST tonigh), I will write to requests. Anything I can get done in a 10-minute writeordie (approx. 250 words, or a standard flash fic drabble in this journal).

Request away!

Original prompts post (LJ Link); what I’ve written so far:

Joff Gets a Pony (LJ Link)
Bringing Home the Bacon (LJ Link), Autumn, Stranded World
Frying Pan, Fire (LJ Link), Tir na Cali
Coming of Age (LJ Link), fae apoc

I will start working on prompts again in the next hour or so.

Tips are appreciated but not required; as always, a tip will get you more story (300 words per $5)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/74337.html. You can comment here or there.

Coming of Age

Jul9

This is from eseme‘s prompt asking for goddesses.

Fae Apoc in its early history.

***

Ακανθα bowed before her father. Head to the stone, weapon at her side, wings swept back, she prostrated herself in front of a god she had never presumed to believe she would meet in person.

“So you are the child I begat so many seasons ago,” Ares rumbled. “You are meet and fine in my sight, child.”

“Thank you, Lord,” she murmured. She knew the forms well enough; her mother and the priests had drilled her as surely as she’d ever been drilled in combat.

“More than that, however,” he continued, “I have seen you in battle. I have seen you protect your people, and your land. Do you know the ban I have set upon My children, little prickly one?”

She did not bristle at the translation of her name, because she wished to live to see the sun rise again. “I have heard of it, Lord Ares,” she answered cautiously.

“I’m sure you have. The poets speak of it in so many words, but none seem to understand how simple it is. The children of Ares, my child, are those who protect.”

“Yes, Lord Ares?”

“You have proven that this task you can do without fail, without faltering, without concern for your own well-being, despite the disadvantage of your sex. I am well pleased with you, and it suits me to give you a gift.”

Beware the gifts of the gods. “Thank you, Lord Ares.”

“There is a city near your village, a city which has of late been under siege. Take your mother, and your siblings. This city is yours now, Thorn of Ares, Prickly Sword. They shall worship Ακανθα there, as long as you remain worthy.”

She dared raise her head, now, to look at him. “You would place me as a goddess, Lord Ares?”

The god was smirking. “Your conception did that, Ακανθα. I give you your birthright.”

Ακανθα. Lily’s ancestor? And Acacia’s?

 

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/74193.html. You can comment here or there.

Frying Pan, Fire – Tir na Cali – Lilfluff’s Prompt1

Jul9

I am taking prompts tonight; this is from [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt regarding new Tir na Cali captives

Tir na Cali, and seems to be an intro.

They got pants, at least. And shirts. Well, the girls got skirts, but the idea was there: after what was probably over a week with no clothes, nothing to their names but the ugly plastic collars their captors had locked around their throats, they had pants, shirts, and underwear.

And ugly plastic collars, but Seth, at least, had learned not to complain. Since they had been stolen into California (while, irony of ironies, celebrating their freedom from school), the six of them had been stripped, collared, processed, beaten, starved, and half-drowned – but they’d also been trained. Maybe their training had been harsh enough to make the basic training he and Jakub were (had been) heading to look like a week at the beach, but the lessons had been straight-forward and clear. Lesson one was: don’t complain.

Lesson two was don’t mouth off, of course. Which was why he was keeping his mouth shut as their handler – the third such, the tallest, the oldest, and the sternest so far, passed them each stacks of clothing. Steve hadn’t quite gotten that, yet, but, then again, only Seth and Jakub had been planning on heading somewhere where they barked orders at you all day anyway.

“This looks like a uniform, ma’am.” Jill commented, quietly, politely. Jill had learned how to ask questions without getting hit; she’d been the quickest of them all, at that.

“It is,” the matron agreed. “You will not be the only ones at this training facility. There will be approximately twenty-five other slaves here training with you.”

“Training?” That was Steve. “Like what? Ow!”

The ow was, of course, another thwap with the crop. Steve got a lot of those.

“You know nothing about our world, or our culture. You will be going to school here to learn how to fit in, how to be proper slaves. You will take eight classes a day, and have time in the evenings to complete your homework?”

“Homework!” Seth was mortified to realize that that had been him this time. He quickly added on a “ma’am,” and was grateful when Debbie picked up his slack by filling in with another question.

“Like school, ma’am? Like high school?” She didn’t have to say all over again; they were all thinking that.

“Exactly like a school,” the matron nodded. She seemed to understand; she didn’t thwap them at all for the collective groan.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/73927.html. You can comment here or there.

Bringing Home the Bacon – Autumn/Stranded World – KC_OBrien’s Prompt

Jul9

I am taking prompts tonight; this is from [personal profile] kc_obrien‘s prompt “Brining home the bacon”

Stranded World, Autumn

Autumn chuckled to herself every time she picked up bacon for dinner.

“Bringing home the bacon,” she murmured, although most nights, it was only to herself and the quiet walls of her van/RV/studio/home. “I’m such a good husband.”

It was a private joke, between herself and the thing that served her in lieu of a conscience: she was the good housewife, the good kid, the good husband. She was bread-winner and bread-baker and, in the end, bread-eater and crumb-picker too.

It wasn’t her only one-person inside joke, of course. She spent a lot of time, most of her life, really, alone with her own thoughts. On the road all the time – she spent, on average, a week with each of her siblings each year, and a week with Mom around Christmastime – she rarely had company with any staying power. Most people liked to have roots, a roof, a solid foundation. Most people liked to know what their role was. Autumn shook all that up.

She snipped the bacon into her pan, still chuckling, albeit ruefully. She’d made the bread-winner bacon-home-bringing joke to her last lover. Adam, although that hadn’t been the name she’d met him under. Her Gawain. He had bristled and tried to hide it, sulked (his busking wasn’t all that profitable) and tried to use that. He’d been lovely, friendly, and willing to throw his rucksack in the back of her van and travel with her. She was glad she hadn’t harbored any illusions beyond that. She wished that he hadn’t, either.

The bacon crisped and popped, making the place smell delicious and her mouth water. She toasted some bread and sliced a fresh tomato over her craft-fair mustard. The company was nice, once in a while, but she’d always be her own breadwinner, her own bread-maker… and probably her own crumbpicker, too. And that was just fine with her.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/73597.html. You can comment here or there.

Joff Gets a Pony

Jul9

I am taking prompts tonight; this is from @daHob’s prompt “Joff gets a pony.”

Year Six, i.e., after current Addergoole timeline.

Joff looked over his half-sister thoughtfully. “‘Vette…?”

This was the first time since they had been at Addergoole that they’d both been free and unKept, and they were finding it a bit heady, or, at least, he was. It was harder to tell with her. She loved everything, everything that brought anyone near her pleasure. Sometimes, he thought she was a far better succubus than he’d ever be an incubus.

Like right now.

“You said you’d always wanted a pony,” she answered, trying for innocent and almost managing, despite the devil-girl look her Change had given her. “Well, he’ll have to do for now.”

Joff looked at the boy, on all fours next to Ivette, bitted, gloved, collared, and saddled. “This isn’t quite what I had in mind,” he admitted, but, before she could pout at him, he knelt down and took the handsome, sweating cheeks in his hands. “But he looked delicious. Thank you, Ivette. May I ride him for a bit before you take him back?”

“Of course, little brother.” She tapped the boy on the ass with the riding crop; tense and twitching already, he jumped nearly out of his skin. “Lee, be nice for Joff here. Do everything he tells you to, do you hear me?”

He mumbled out an answer around the gag that sounded rather like “yes, mistress;” she smiled beatifically down at him.

“You’re such a good boy, darling. I know Joff is going to have such fun riding you.” She tapped his ass again, making the leather crack loudly, and then passed the crop to Joff. “Aren’t you, little brother?”

He looked over the boy lustily. Smart of his sister to know he’d had his eye on this one since the first day of school. Amazingly thoughtful of her to snag him as a present, and truss him up like this.

“I am,” he agreed, suppressing a giggle. The boy was big enough. Maybe he really would just ride him around the room.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/73413.html. You can comment here or there.

Psst…

Jul9

…between now and 24 hours from now, I will write to requests. Anything I can get done in a 10-minute writeordie (approx. 250 words, or a standard flash fic drabble in this journal).

Request away!

(Writing will start after dinner or so)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/72764.html. You can comment here or there.

Forcing a Memory – DailyPrompt

Jul8

From [community profile] dailyprompt: “Don’t you remember how it all began?”

Unknown ‘verse

“Don’t you remember how it all began?”

“Think, Minda. There has to be something there.”

“Nothing.” She pressed her cheek to her bare knee in frustration. There was a scar there, a pencil-thin white line. She wondered what had caused it. It had to have been something pretty intense.

Now what did that mean? She looked up at the tall girl with the golden skin, who was trying so urgently to prompt her memory. “I’m sorry,” she said, for what she was pretty sure was the nineteenth or twentieth time. “Nothing.”

The girl flopped to the floor. “Nothing at all, not even a hint? Come on, Minda, this is important.”

“Not a hint, not even a name, mine or yours. Nothing. I woke up here,” she gestured at the bed, grateful that she could come up for a word for it: bed. For sleeping. And other things. Hrrm. When she’d first opened her eyes, she hadn’t even had that. “That’s all. I woke up here next to you.” Next to you. Naked, which they still both were. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

“Damnit.” The golden girl slammed a fist into her thigh. “Damn, Minda, don’t you remember how it all began? There has to be something there, something…”

“How it all began…” There was the tiniest bit of something, not at the words, but at the way the girl’s fist slammed into her thigh. “Falling,” she tried. “Not falling. Being pushed. Shoved.”

“Yes?” She nodded hopefully, staring at Minda (was that really her name?) as if she could force more memories out of her by force of will.

“Falling…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. After the landing, I’ve got nothing.”

I’ve got nothing. They took everything. She blinked up at the naked girl. “We’ve got nothing,” she tried. “They took everything, left us here. We’ve got nothing but each other.”

The hope in the girl’s eyes was too much. She couldn’t bear to tell her that, of the flickering memories coming back, her lean form and wide black eyes featured in none of them.

—Or try this flavor:

“Think, Mik. There has to be something there.”

“Nothing.” He pressed his cheek to his bare knee in frustration. There was a scar there, a pencil-thin white line. He wondered what had caused it. It had to have been something pretty intense.

Now what did that mean? He looked up at the tall boy with the golden skin, who was trying so urgently to prompt his memory. “I’m sorry,” he said, for what he was pretty sure was the nineteenth or twentieth time. “Nothing.”

The boy flopped to the floor. “Nothing at all, not even a hint? Come on, Mik, this is important.”

“Not a hint, not even a name, mine or yours. Nothing. I woke up here,” he gestured at the bed, grateful that he could come up for a word for it: bed. For sleeping. And other things. Hrrm. When he’d first opened his eyes, he hadn’t even had that. “That’s all. I woke up here next to you.” Next to you. Naked, which they still both were. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

“Damnit.” The golden boy slammed a fist into his thigh. “Damn, Mik, don’t you remember how it all began? There has to be something there, something…”

“How it all began…” There was the tiniest bit of something, not at the words, but at the way the boy’s fist slammed into his thigh. “Falling,” he tried. “Not falling. Being pushed. Shoved.”

“Yes?” He nodded hopefully, staring at Mik (was that really his name?) as if he could force more memories out of his by force of will.

“Falling…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. After the landing, I’ve got nothing.”

I’ve got nothing. They took everything. He blinked up at the naked boy. “We’ve got nothing,” he tried. “They took everything, left us here. We’ve got nothing but each other.”

The hope in the boy’s eyes was too much. He couldn’t bear to tell his that, of the flickering memories coming back, his lean form and wide black eyes featured in none of them.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/72482.html. You can comment here or there.