Archive | July 2012

Countdown to Addergoole Year 9: Porter

Jul20

52 46 Days To 52 Weeks

For the 52 days leading up to the 52 weeks of Addergoole: Year 9, I will be posting something Addergoole-related every day.

Today I present to you Porter!

Arts by Inventrix and Arts by Anke

Porter is a cheerful, friendly guy with curly hair, a broad smile, and a fondness for noir detective movies. In his second year at Addergoole now, he sports a Siberian tiger Change that leaves his hair and face striped and gives him the ears and tail of said tiger.

Porter originally appeared in Frying Pans, Etc..

And, today, if you would like to ask Porter any question, at any point up to the end of Frying Pans, Etc., feel free!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/374808.html. You can comment here or there.

July Linkback, Donor, Prompter story

Jul20

This is the linkback incentive story for the July Giraffe Call.

Bowen et al are characters in Addergoole.

Bowen’s Change (and his father’s) are as sheep.

Summer after Year Five

Bowen had been home for a week when his cy’ree showed up.

It hadn’t been a comfortable week, all things considered. His father had been – well, Dad. The way Dad always was, kind of sheepish.

Sheepish. Ha. He’d yelled that at him, his second night home. Bowen had been yelling a lot, since he got home. “How can you just go along with what you’re told? How can you be such a goddamned part of the herd?”

And all Dad had managed was “we are what’s in our nature.”

Which was a pile of crap. Bowen had been mutilated by a rabbit. But he wasn’t going to tell his father that. Instead, he’d shouted at him.

“Be a goddamned ram, then. Grow a pair.”

They hadn’t talked much since then. It was going to be a long summer if it kept on like this.
And then the doorbell rang.

At first, Bowen was afraid it was his friends from high school. He almost didn’t answer the door; he didn’t have anything to say to those guys. He couldn’t even begin to talk about school, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to those morons anyway.

But the doorbell rang again, and again, like someone was mashing on the button. Grumbling, fantasising about punching Jack or Eddie or Judy or whoever it was until they stopped ringing the damn doorbell, Bowen hauled himself out of his chair and yanked the door open. “What do you… oh. It’s you. Ah.”

He wasn’t really sure what to say other than that. It wasn’t every day two of the biggest baddies in the school – and one of the creepiest guys, just for good measure – showed up on his doorstep. Then again, they were his cy’ree.

“What’s up?” He tried to sound casual, but this was Rozen and Baram at his front door. And Phelen, he mentally amended. Forgetting Phelen could be a fatal mistake.

“We’re going on a field trip.” Rozen’s tone left no room for argument. “Grab your stuff, tell your folks we’re leaving.”

His father probably wouldn’t notice. “How long?”

“Enh, couple weeks at the most. I’ve got a thing starting in August and Phelen’s got babies to worry about.”

“Come on in, if you mean me and mine no harm.” He’d learned that phrase his second week in Addergoole. It was a useful phrase. Even if Baram did laugh.

“Not now, at least.”

“Not today is fine,” he allowed. You never really got a free pass with the big dogs. Bowen was okay with that; some day he was going to be a big dog. A ram.

“Dad, going out with my friends. I’ll be back in a week or two.” He called it from his room as he threw socks and underwear and a couple T-shirts in a bag, the word friends slipping off his tongue with only a tiny hesitation. They were cy’ree. That was better than friends, right?

“So, where’re we going?” He plopped into the back seat of Rozen’s big car, wondering if he ought to be being more cautious.

“I told you, field trip. First stop Addergoole.”

Yeah, he really should have been more cautious. “Um, man, I… Just drop me off here, okay, I’ll walk home.”

The big man laughed. They all laughed.

“Come on, kid, do we look like the Addergoole Gestapo to you? Relax, nothing bad’s going to happen. There’s just a couple people I want to see before we head off to stop two and three.”

Rozen’s grin was wide, white, and a little bit scary. Bowen eyed the door, but Phelen had a shadow wrapped around his ankle. “Relax, man. You’re not in any trouble.”

“Cy’ree,” Baram grunted.

Bowen leaned against his seat. “Cy’ree.” He wasn’t going anywhere, he might as well trust them.

~
It wasn’t that far to Addergoole. It had seemed farther, on the way home, but then again, on the way home, he’d ridden in silence. Phelen and Rozen spent the ride cracking inappropriate jokes, Baram laughing along and sometimes grunting in a word or two. And, in something that was new, they talked to him, too. Included him.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/371274.html. You can comment here or there.

Countdown to Addergoole Year 9: Wylie

Jul19

52 47 Days To 52 Weeks

For the 52 days leading up to the 52 weeks of Addergoole: Year 9, I will be posting something Addergoole-related every day.

Today I present to you Wylie!

Art by herminion

Wylie is a middling-heighted boy with middling-brown hair and a middling build, with average grades and an average athletic ability. On paper, he is an entirely ordinary fifteen-year-old boy. (click link for more description).

His parents have told him that Addergoole is a school for “gifted” children, by which he believes they mean “disobedient and distractable.”

Wylie originally appeared in Pissing Away Time.

And, today, if you would like to ask Wylie any question, at any point up to the end of Pissing Away Time, feel free!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/374735.html. You can comment here or there.

Three Summers

Jul18

For Imaginary’s prompt. Warning, the middle bit with Shad has suggestions of abuse and overuse of the word “pussy.”

Sharach, Meshach, Agatha, and Acacia are characters in Addergoole

Nine years before Addergoole Year 5

“And then we’ll head to Italy, and you’ll go to the college prep summer camp.”

“Mom, I want to go to Italy with you and Dad.” Ten-year-old Agatha frowned at her mother, not pouting: pouting was unattractive. “The camp has bugs.” And everyone was bigger than her there. Everyone was bigger than her everywhere, but it was worse at summer camp.

“Agatha, you went with us to France and Spain. We need some alone time, and you need to starting thinking about college.”

“But I don’t like it there.”

“I suggest you learn, young lady.”

Two weeks later, Agatha tucked the last of her belongings into her billet – the worst bunk, in the back of the cabin, but the other girls had gotten there first – and headed out into the well-manicured grounds. Perhaps she could find a place to hide, before the other kids got settled in.

She stopped just short of running into a tall, broad-shouldered boy. A bully-sort, but he wasn’t smiling meanly. “Hello,” she offered.

“Hi.” His smile looked real. If he liked her, everyone else would leave her alone.

“I’m Agatha.” She offered him a hand. “Do you want to be my friend?”

Eight years before Addergoole Year 5

“Come on, Shad, don’t be a pussy.” His older brother Meshach was halfway up the edge of the gorge. Shad glanced back behind him, then back up at the wall of rock. He cleared his throat, and called back.

“Come on, Neg, don’t be a pussy.” He reached out an arm for their little brother Abednego. “We’re going up the wall, there.”

“It looks awfully high, Shad.” Trust Abed to voice it, so that Shad had to think about the damn thing. He punched the little whiner in the arm.

“It’s not that high. Maybe as tall as our house. We jumped off that last year.” He wished his voice would stop squeaking. It made him sound like a pussy. Meshach’s didn’t to that.

“You broke your leg doing that.” And then their dad had broken his arm, for good measure, for being stupid enough to jump off the roof.

“Look, just shut up and let’s climb the damn thing, okay, before Meshach has to come back down and get us.” He grabbed his little brother’s arm, and hoisted him to the first ledge. “Hold on tight, and don’t let go. We can do this.”

“We can.” It killed him, sometimes, how much Abednego trusted him. But he trusted Meshach… and Meesh trusted Dad. He wasn’t sure any of it made sense.

Seven years before Addergoole Year 5

“I’ll be home by dark.” Acacia threw the lie over her shoulder as she ducked out the screen door.

“Don’t do anything wild and reckless.” It was her mother’s joke, although it had never been quite a joke.

“Nothing tooooo wild.” She grinned at the door and then took off running. She would have to hurry to be back before Mom started to worry, even if that was long after dark.

Several hours later, on top of the abandoned Terrance Building (Rumor had it, it had once been a psych warn, but too many people had died), she grinned at her friends. “We did it. Now all we have to do is get down without getting caught.”

“That might be problematic. I think I see a police car in the distance. Get down.” Geoff grabbed her neck and pulled her down under the low saftey wall; Acacia rolled and kicked him in the nuts in a move she’d been practicing for months.

As the cop circled the base of the building, 15 stories down, and Geoff rolled in pain, she grinned. “Nothing too wild.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/374410.html. You can comment here or there.

In The Tower, Continued (for @dahob)

Jul18

After In the Tower and In the Tower, Continued

For @Dahob’s 500-word continuation from the June Mini-Giraffe Call

Bobbie was getting bored. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten bored, but this was the longest he could remember.

For days, the food had been boring and short, and there hadn’t been any new books or even any homework, no toys, no

games, nothing in over a week. The TV was on the fritz, which meant he had three old books, a notebook full of

drawings, and pacing. And pacing was getting really, really boring.

More than bored, though, Bobbie was starting to get worried. They’d left him high and dry a couple times before, but

never for this long. It brought home just how trapped he was, how doomed he was if his invisible captors ever forgot

he was here.

And that was making him antsy and jumpy, listening for any noise. Dinner was late. Dinner had been getting, as far as

he could tell (His clock had stopped), later and later every day. And he was getting hungrier and hungrier, bored and

impatient and nervous and jittery and…

A long scraping noise outside his tower derailed his thoughts. Bobbie ran to the balcony-window. Something, something

was happening! The noise repeated, sounding closer. Sounding like something was ripping up the side of his tower, of

his home.

He paused in the balcony entryway. Did he really want to go outside? There was something loud and bad happening out

there, and he was running right to it.

Or he could sit in his room and let things happen without him. He stuck his head out, peering cautiously around, first

to the left – nothing – then to the right.

There was a claw holding onto his tower. A claw with fingers as long as he was tall. He whipped his head around,

looking back to the right.

A giant eye stared back at him. A giant eye, attached to a giant face. A dragon face. “Aaaah!”

The door slammed shut behind him, the lock clicking loudly. He was trapped on a tiny balcony a hundred feet above the

ground, with a dragon staring at him.

“Shit, crap, darn, I need better swear words, poop, crap, shit!” He shook the door handle, but it wasn’t budging. To

the right, the claw was inching closer. To the left, the face was getting even closer to him. And the dragon’s tongue

was darting out, slinking out and licking him on the face.

Bobbie sank down to the ground, wondering if the railing around the tiny balcony would offer any protection. He was

going to die. He was going to die, and nobody’d ever come to find him.

“Delicious.” The dragon hissed it, like a snake talking. Its snout was pressed up against the balcony, its tongue

darting down to lick Bobbie again. “Go and eat, little morsel. Eat lots, and keep up your energy.”

He was going to die. He was going to… what? He peered up at the creature uncertainly. “Eat?”

“Eat. Eat, and grow strong. I will be back again.”

The dragon flew off, its wings pushing the air in waves against Bobbie’s hiding place. Behind him, the door swung

open.

I will be back again. And it wanted him to eat more. He gulped. He had to get out of this place.

Edited to add: The funky line breaks were an accident, but I kinda like them, so I’m going to keep them

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/374149.html. You can comment here or there.

Callenan poetry, a brief treatise, for the July Giraffe Call

Jul18

This is the donation-level perk for the June Giraffe Call.

Callenan poetry falls into several different categories, but the largest division, describing all else, is spoken vs. written poetry.

Written poetry originated with the priesthood, and before them with the gods-chasers1 of the original Home Valley. The Callenian language, written, lends itself to artistic forms and decoration.

In the early days of the written word, the god-chasers would mark short prayer-poems, often calling out to longer spoken-poem works, onto the skin of the tribe’s Riders, onto the leather of their saddles, and onto the fur of their goats. As time went on, the artistic forms became more complicated; the holy texts of Callenia are written in formed poetry.2

Spoken poetry existed long before the written, and was first used to pass on stories and lessons from one generation to the next. In the style of epics, spoken poetry tends to rely heavily on repetition, rhyme, and a strong rhythm to carry mnemonic cues.

One common form of spoken poetry, dating back to the original Tribes of the Valley and continuing even into the Steam era, is called an “around;” usually consisting of seven parts, and often of seven speakers, the poem moves “around” a cycle of life, and around the seven mountains that ringed the Home Valley.

Examples of similar works in English poetry include the country song “Don’t Take the Girl3,” where a repetitive chorus means something slightly new in each verse, and the children’s rhyme “The Farmer in the Dell4,” where each verse builds on the next.

Hear now I tell you when I last went home
The Reeve5‘s oldest daughter, she danced all alone
Her lover had left her, gone off to the fight
They burned up his body and gave her his knife6.
Hear now I tell you when I last went home
The Reeve’s oldest daughter, she danced all alone

This poem continues for six more verses, detailing the soldier’s courtship of the Reeve’s oldest daughter, their eventual consummation, and the soldier’s inevitable return to the front.

The final verse calls back to the first verse:

Hear now I tell you, when you next return
To the Village I left, to the place I call home,
Dance with the daughter, hear of her plight.
They’ve burned up my body and sent home my knife
Hear now I tell you, when you next return
The Reeve’s oldest daughter will dance all alone.


1. The Callenan left the original gods when settling Reiassan. See http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/365239.html
2. For examples see http://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/index.php?showtopic=1001
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don’t_Take_the_Girl
4. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Farmer_in_the_Dell
5. A Reeve is the political and law-enforcing head of a small village or town, appointed by the Emperor
6. Bodies in wartime are burned, although bodies in peace-time are often buried in stone tombs. A soldier’s widow, lover, or parents would be given his war-blade as a memorial.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/373898.html. You can comment here or there.

CountDown to Addergoole Year 9

Jul17

52 49 Days To 52 Weeks

For the 52 days leading up to the 52 weeks of Addergoole: Year 9, I will be posting something Addergoole-related every day.

Today’s Stories include:

A cy’Linden Summer (LJ) Jamian and Manira
Seeing Ghosts (LJ) – Finnegan
Monster Camp (LJ) – Finnegan and Efrosin

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/373756.html. You can comment here or there.

Monster Camp

Jul17

For @DaHob’s Prompt

Finnegan is a character in Addergoole

Efrosin, Niassa, and Arna are characters in Addergoole Year Nine.

After Ghost story (LJ) and Seeing Ghosts (LJ).

Doug was waiting at the gates when the last campers had been packed off.

“Did good,” he told them, in a rough grunt. Finnegan and Efrosin shared a glance, and then looked back at the man.

“Thanks,” Finnegan offered. “Even…”

“Very good.” He nodded sharply. “So. How long before college?”

“Three years.” Efrosin was, Finnegan had noticed, a bit of a smartass. Then again, being Shiva’s brother, he supposed that made sense.

“Three weeks. I go back just before Eff goes back to Addergoole.”

“Got more camp for you two.”

“I was kinda hoping for a vacation…” He wasn’t sure what the younger kid had been hoping for. Maye more camp was perfect for him.

Doug shrugged. “Don’t want to kill monsters? Fine with me.”

“Oh,wait!” He stepped forward, almost reaching for the man. “Monster hunting? Like…”

“Yeah. Like them. Running a training session, you two, couple others. Figure you know all the book stuff already, considering.”

“Yeah. Considering.” Considering his first-year Keeper and her sisters had been Addergoole’s primary monster hunters while they were in the school. Efrosin, he wasn’t so sure about, but the kid had potential. “Who else?”

“You’ll see. You in or out?”

Efrosin was, he realized, looking at him to answer first. Finnegan weighed the idea in his head, comparing spend three weeks monster hunting to spend three weeks reading bad books and playing in the water.

“Yeah, I’m in.” He’d have his whole life to play in the water.

“Me, too.” The way Efrosin moved closer to him made him wonder if the boy had a crush on him. He’d Kept another guy last year, after all, thanks to his sister’s interference. “Shiva…”

“She’ll be there. Come on, you’re all packed.”

~

Efrosin hadn’t realized how out of shape he was until he was put up against Doug’s training camp. Leo would love this; maybe next year he’d talk Doug into letting Boom – or part of Boom, maybe one at a time? – attend. Efrosin… well, he was a lazy tomcat, to quote his mother, his sisters, and anyone else who knew him. And compared to the rest of the people here, he was a scrawny out-of-shape runt.

“Come on, midget, keep running.” Niassa grabbed his arm and urged him over the obstacle course. “Look, once you get through Dad’s Basic Training, nothing will ever look like a real challenge again.”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t need challenges.” He let her haul him over one hurdle, and then, pride pricked, took the next two on his own. “I don’t think I belong here.”

“Move your feet, Arna!” Doug’s shout echoed over the course. “Finnegan, it doesn’t care if it can’t see you!” He took his eyes off the course to stare at the others, or at where Finnegan ought to be, at least.

“Watch out!” Niassa gave him a shove; Efrosin jumped four feet in the air, missed the water trap, and landed on a tree branch, looking down at her, resisting the urge to hiss in indignation.

The lean girl only laughed. “We’ve got our skills and you’ve got yours. You’ll do fine, once you stop whining and pay attention. Come on, I’ll race you to the end.”

“No fair, you’ve got wings.” But he was already going, skittering down the tree branch. Maybe he’d manage to get another “did good” before the summer was over.

Maybe even from Finnegan.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/373270.html. You can comment here or there.

Seeing Ghosts

Jul17

For wyld_dandelyon‘s prompt

Finnegan is a characters in Addergoole

After Ghost Story (LJ)

Finnegan was woken in the middle of the night by a hand on his shoulder. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was, who he was, everything but the sensation of a midnight wake-up. He expected to hear Allyse’s purr in his ear: Trouble. Back later. Stay here; waiting orders.

Instead, it was a soft whisper, gentler than his Keeper had ever been. “Finn? Finnegan, wake up. I can’t find Brenna.” That was Aimee’s voice. Aimee, not Allyse. A world apart and then some.

He blinked into wakefulness, hoping he hadn’t gone invisible, or, if he had, that the other counselor hadn’t noticed. “I’m awake.” He tilted his head towards the cabin exit, counted his own campers – six, good. Six heads, six beds, and a heat signature to match each head. Brenna had been getting friendly with his camper Jose; that’s probably why the other counselor had come for him.

She was waiting outside for him. Barely older than the campers herself; last year, she’d been a camper, making wide flirty eyes at Finnegan. He’d been too broken last year, to even contemplate it; this year, they were too busy to have time to flirt. Funny how life did that.

“She was there when I checked at ten, but when I woke up at midnight, she was gone. The rest of my girls are sound asleep, but I thought maybe she’d gone off with Jose.”

“He’s still in his bed. Doesn’t mean he didn’t set her up, though.” Finnegan felt like a heel, especially at the hurt look on Aimee’s face. “It’s not the first time one of them’s done something like that – tell the other girl or guy they’d meet them somewhere at midnight, and then blow them off or forget all about it. I can see Jose doing it.”

“They’re just kids, Finnegan.”

“Trust me, fourteen isn’t a kid anymore. Not when it comes to sheer manipulation and cynicism.” He decided not to mention how barely past that she was herself. “I’d try up at the top of the hill.”

“By the fence?” She was scared, bless her heart. Finnegan sighed.

“There’s not really a heart-eating monster up there, you know.”

“I know! It’s just…”

“Come on. I’ll hold your hand.” He’d been kidding, but was unsurprised when she clung to the hand he offered like it was a lifeboat. “This happens all the time, Aimee. Didn’t you used to wander off at night?”

“I know what I was doing, too.” He could see her blush even in the moonlight; the Kwxe Working he had up meant he could feel it, too.

“So let’s see who she’s doing it with.”

The hike up the hill was treacherous even in daytime, miserable at night, but the moon was full, and clever Aimee had brought a flashlight. It didn’t stop her from leaning on his arm, but, then again, he hadn’t expected it to. He didn’t mind; she had a sort of softness and neediness that seemed even more appealing when compared to his nightmares of Allyse and her sisters.

“Oh, god, oh, help…” the voice was thin and reedy, panicked sounding but as if the speaker was trying not to be too long. Whispering for help? “Someone, please…”

“That’s Brenna.” Aimee pulled ahead, turning to make sure Finnegan was keeping up. He followed dutifully, muttering a whole series of Workings under his breath as he went there.

He didn’t need to have bothered. The girl was there, all right, in just the place where generations of campers before her had found a loose spot in the fence and made it bigger, right on the other side from the foundation of the old cottage. She was crouched low to the ground, her heat signature way higher than it ought to be. And she seemed to have done something very weird with her hair…

No. Finnegan stopped, staring carefully at the girl. No. That wasn’t a weird hair-do, that was a crest. Three rows of crest, as a matter of fact, like some sort of fish. And she wasn’t whispering, she was gasping for air.

“No,” he groaned. How was he going to explain this to Aimee? She was as mundane as you could get; all she was going to see was an unhappy girl, not one drowning on dry land.

Explain later, he decided. He scooped up the girl. “We have to get her into the water. Tub in the counselor’s bathroom is closer than the lake. Move!”

She moved, running faster than he’d thought possible, especially in those stupid flip-flops. She jetted down the hill, Finnegan muttering desperate little Meentik Yaku Working at the girl, wishing he could handle more than an alpha-level when it came to Create.

And then she was in the tub, and they were pouring water over her, and then, only then, bless her heart, did Aimee ask, in a shaking voice, “does she have…gills?”

Brenna is a character in Addergoole Year Nine!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/373141.html. You can comment here or there.

A cy’Linden Summer

Jul17

For rix_scaedu‘s prompt

Jamian and Manira are characters in Addergoole

Summer between Years 5 and 6 of the Addergoole School

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Jamian had to admit, the situation was a bit surreal: him coaxing Manira out with those words?

They had been hanging around the Village for a month, spending time near each other – at first by accident, and then, as he realized how despondent Manira was getting, on purpose, at least from Jamian’s end.

“I should stay here with Caprice.”

“You should get out, before you go all post-partum depression on me. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

This time, at least, he got a small smile. “Isn’t that my line?”

“So use it. Manira, I love my kids, but if I spend every minute of the day staring at them, I’m going to go bonkers.”

“I… what if I do something wrong? I haven’t… I mean, I… damnit.”

He’d figured out that there was something strange about Manira, something she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell, but he still hadn’t figured out what. Right now, it didn’t matter. “Look, I’m the same Cohort as you, so I’ll be around for the next three years. You’ve got me to help – and you’ve got our Mento… okay, never mind that. But you’ve got Maureen, and Caitrin, and Mendosa, and together, we can figure this out.”

“Really? You’d help me?”

He grinned at her, finally feeling like he was doing something right. “You helped me, didn’t you? Come on, the daycare is expecting Caprice – and Dommie and Carey.”

“You nicknamed your kid Dommie?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Wishful thinking, maybe? Look, the rest of the cy’ree – Mags and Anwell, Mea, Joff, and ‘Vette, they’re all waiting for us.”

“Well, all right. But what is there to do around here?”

Now his grin was stretched wide. “They put in a water park the next town over.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/372923.html. You can comment here or there.