Archive | September 2014

Whilst at Doomsday, a brief Continuation (@inventrix)

Sep18

This comes after this piece.

Nehara cy’Doomsday was stunning, a beautiful young lady, distractingly so, and her sweet smile suggested that she knew it.

Or that could have been decades of cynicism and time spent around Mike VanderLinden talking. The girl was young – she was still a student, after all. Might be older than Myst was…

Indeed. Luke shook the hand the girl proffered. She was wearing the school uniform of black-and-grey plaid, he noticed, with red-on-red accents and a very practical looking red utility belt. Cy’Doomsday, indeed.

He cleared his throat. “It’s rude, I know, but – are you Navajo?”

She dimpled, a lovely smile that – down, boy. Damnit, a woman almost three hundred years younger than he was should not be doing this to him. He was a happily married man! “Most people can’t tell. But you’re Seneca, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Centuries of practice let him manage not to clarify that with half. “You have a good eye.”

“I’m not sure you’ve encountered The Res?”

Luke tightened his wings to his back. “I’ve been on reservations.”

“Oh, oh, not that.” Both of her hands moved in soothing motions. “I’ve heard stories – both from Professor Lily and from people at home. No, no, The Res, that’s different. When everything started going bad, a bunch of the really active tribespeople started pulling in, setting up a safe place in the middle of one of the biggest reservations. They put the word out – and the worse things got, the more people came to live there. Then they just claimed more & more land.” She smiled brightly at him, and, this time, Luke found his interest academic rather than sexual. “Turns out all of what used to be Arizona is ours now. And it’s still growing.”


Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/818625.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/812511.html. You can comment here or there.

Under the Sea, a story for the Giraffe Call

Sep17

To [personal profile] alexseanchai‘s prompt

When the war came, she went, not to ground, as so many of her friends and cousins did, but to water, to the sea.

The bombs were falling all around, but she slipped on her seal skin and slid under the water, down where the Leviathan still remembered her, down where her other family, her seal family, still lived. She found the little place she had built, so long ago, where those like her – and those like dolphins and true seals, merfolk and otters – could breathe safe air, deep under the ocean and yet dry and homey. The humans were clever, but none smart enough to find this place.

It was not the first time she had gone to see, and it would likely not be her last. She was, if not eternal, near unto it, and she did not like war at all.

There she stayed, with otters and selkies, seals and merfolk, under the water, while above the rockets fell and the cities burned. They were clever folk, humans, clever at destruction, clever at building it all up to destroy it again. But she was more clever, and she had her refuge from all their brilliant ideas.

The years past, under the sea. Otters and seals, dolphins and merfolk kept her company. The true animals grew old, and died, no matter the magic she used, but the merfolk and the selkies, the naiads and the kelp-dryads, they stayed the same, as she did. Above the sea, the war raged on, and stopped, raged again, and stopped. The humans were clever, and eventually they found peace. Still she waited.

It was safe, under the sea, never too cold and never too warm. It was peaceful under the sea, no war and no armistice, no fighting and no treaties. But the humans were clever and the merfolk and selkies were eternal – but they were not, as things went, so clever.

The humans were clever. And no matter how long she was gone, there was always someone waiting, when she slipped onto the beach. There was always someone who remembered how to steal her skin.

As she pretended to fight against the farmer who had “captured” her, the selkie found herself smiling. It was safe, under the sea. But on the ground things were interesting.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/811835.html. You can comment here or there.

Coming Soon! “What Follows,” an anthology of the End Times

Sep16

How would an Immortal deal with the End Times?

The world will inevitably come stumbling into apocalypse, and They will be there to witness it. Dryads, demi-gods, deities of every pantheon- is it possible for the Eternal to handle an ending with grace?

Should it come through disease, disaster, or religious fervor, discover What Follows…

This anthology includes a story by yours truly (what, immortals & end times, do you think I could resist), as well as stories by K Orion Fray (the artist formerly in my attic) and our friend who I’ve referred to here as Skan.

Anticipated release date is next Friday!

It will be available in eBook and POD (POD specifics to follow); eBook will be available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Smashwords.

Again, that’s next Friday! And it’s an anthology I get to be in with friends of mine!

(Also, it’s an apocalypse anthology, so extra bouncing).

Stay tuned for more details!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/811532.html. You can comment here or there.

Edally Web Page: I Still need your help!

Sep16

I’m working on listing the cast for Edally – everyone who appears in every chapter.

That’s a lot of people.

What I could use from you: Grab a chapter/Interlude (Claim here first to avoid duplication of work) and list all the named characters in it.

For every chapter done, I’ll write you 250 words about… whatever Edally/Reiassan related words you want, although preference given to things at least tangentially related to Edally (rather than, say, more Rin/Girey).

The first of the stories can be seen here, if you want to know what you’re getting.

And if you think I’m offering up a lot of bribery, between this and my request for reviews, well… you’re not wrong

Chapter 1 – Claimed by Capriox
Chapter 2 – Lilfluff
Chapter 3- Claimed by Capriox
Chapter 4 – Claimed by Rix
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Interlude: In the Onadyano Tower Dorms
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10 – thnidu

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/811313.html. You can comment here or there.

Semi-Formal Timeline of Reiassan

Sep16

Note: This will conflict with several dates posted here and there. I’m still working on that!! But this is meant to give me a solid reference from which to work.

Dates of R are listed as years from landfall on Reiassan.

Lyuda Era – approx. 500 R.
Edally Academy was begun approximately one thousand years ago, in the time of the Emperor Eleddeltendel…

Skirmish Era, from 200-750 R

About 500 years ago, the original tower of Edally was torn down.

Rin & Girey Era: 900 R.

Edally Academy (Serial) era: 1650 R.

Doonts it with the stick of Officiadom.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/811085.html. You can comment here or there.

The Haircut – Patreon

Sep15

“Are you sure?” Cyan ran shaking hands through the new hair-cut. It was short, shorter than Cy had ever dared before, but just long enough, or so Mary assured, that it could be made girly when the urge or the need arose.

“Cy, with your folks, nobody can ever be sure of anything. But, in a normal world, yes. If they’re being stupid, you can show them how it curls up so cutely when you want it to. And if they’re not, you can slick it back and do the manly thing when you want to. Days you’re feeling middle-of-the-road, the curls are easy to tame down once you get out of the house.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Look, everything will be easier when you can get out of the house – but this, this is hair. It doesn’t have to be hard or anything.” Mary fluffed the back of Cy’s hair. “This should be fine.”

“Psst.”

Cyan and Mary both ignored the voice coming from the alley. It didn’t do to talk to strangers, not in this neighborhood.

“And besides,” Mary continued, “your mom when through her pixie cut stage, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, but my dad-”

“You want easy?” The voice in the alley was not to be ignored. “I can make you look the way you want to, kid.”

“-my dad hated it. My dad hates everything.”

“Come on, someone transitional like you, wanna be red one day, green another.” Now the alley-way voice had resolved itself into a shadowy figure. “I got what you need.”

It wasn’t going to shut up and it wasn’t going to go away. Cyan looked directly at the shadow. “I know better than to make deals with fairies.” The haircut would have to be enough, for now.

Icon Flash: Trees

Sep14

“It’s perfect.” Ce’rilla looked around the old hotel. “It has an atrium, it has rooms, and everything else can be fixed.”

“Mmm.” Her sister – “sister” the way her family did family ties, at least – regarded the place thoughtfully. “I thought you wanted trees.”

Ce’rilla regarded the building. Once upon a time, it had been a highway-off-ramp stop. But the world had ended when ‘Rilla and her sister were barely children. Now it was abandoned, and the highway was not exactly well-used. “I see trees over there.”

“‘Rill, the trees are like a mile away.”

“Mmm.” Ce’Rilla stretched, and then stretched. Talking to trees was easy. “But they’re going to come here.”


Ce’Rilla is a character in Addergoole (Second generation), as is her sister.

Addergoole has a landing page here

Written in a quest to write a flash to every one of the icons djinni has drawn for me.
a smiling girl with branch antlers

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/810844.html. You can comment here or there.

Family Secrets and Cat Secrets, continuation of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call

Sep12

This is wispfox‘s commissioned continuation of Cats & Grannies. and Cat’s in the Attic.

Radar appeared to approve of the center box of the nine – although, perhaps out of consideration to Aunt Bea, he wasn’t talking. Beryl, armed with the gloves the cat had suggested and a scarf tied over her nose and mouth, moved everything with the care usually taken by museum archivists.

(She wondered, very briefly, what a historian or archaeologist would make of the family archives, such as they were. Had anyone in the family ever studied archeology?)

“Aunt Bea…” Her voice was muffled by the scarf, but Aunt Bea’s hearing was still sharp. “Do we have any historians in the family?”

“Oh, the family doesn’t tend to go that way.”

“Aah.” Beryl noted the tone, and wondered what Aunt or pushy Granny had inculcated that idea into the family. “I think it might be fun to do a study of all this, that’s all.”

“Well, but who could you show it to?”

“Aunt-” She hefted the box out of its spot and set it, carefully, on a clear patch of attic floor “-Evangeline. Or maybe one of the cadet branches – hey, how come they’re the cad… never mind. Thanks for letting me take this, Aunt Bea.” That was Dangerous Territory. People Beryl’s age weren’t supposed to worry about Dangerous Territory.

“Don’t worry too much about the politics, honey. It’ll sort itself out, it always does. And be careful with what’s in those boxes – I mean, tell Eva to be careful.” Was that a wink, or just a trick of the light?

~

Beryl had earned the privilege of a locked door with her fourteenth birthday, and was very grateful for it as she and Radar sat down with the box. Not that she thought her mother would exactly object, but her mother would talk to her sisters, and her cousins, and they’d talk to their mothers, and their aunts, and so on, and soon Beryl would find herself buried in Grannies again.

She turned up the music nobody else in the house liked – just loud enough to be audible if one stopped to listen, not loud enough to get her yelled at by anyone else – triple-checked the lock, and made sure The Necklace was wrapped in silk and locked in a stone box. “All right, Radar.” She popped the lid and stared inside. “What am I looking for?”

“It’s going to be a journal.” Radar jumped into the box, growing smaller as he did in a show of power he almost never exhibited. The kitten-size fit much better among the paperwork. “If I recall, it was bound in leather – brown and green – and wrapped in ribbon.”

“There’s so much stuff here.” She lifted out a folder labelled Family Photographs, 1910. The handwriting was a long, spidery script she’d seen more than a few times before. “And what’s dangerous about photos?”

“In your family? Everything.” The cat pushed aside a yellowed book of sheet music; Beryl had never heard of the composer, but she could smell the magic still coming off of it like dust. “Here it is. Careful, girl, it’s old.”

Old didn’t begin to cover it. Beryl stared at the cover of the book, with its flaking gold-embossed name. “Is that…”

It had to be. The family, for reasons of clarity, did not repeat names. But she had to ask again, anyway. “Is that…”

“The secrets have been lost for a long time indeed, child. Take it.” Radar pushed the book towards her. “You’re going to need it.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/810539.html. You can comment here or there.

Icon Flash: Order

Sep12

“You’re totally OCD, you know.”

Winter’s new co-worker sprawled on the edge of Winter’s desk, poking at the pens Winter had lined up parallel to the edge of said desk. “I can see why you work in a law library.”

“I like order.” Winter moved the pens back into line and allowed himself to look the new co-worker in the scruffy face. “It helps with my work, yes.” He noticed the twitch above the man’s left eye, and the nick where he’d likely cut himself shaving. “And why are you working in a law library, Darrel?”

Useful setting information: The strands, in this ‘verse, connect everything, and are created by connections between people or between things.

Want more Stranded World? Check out the landing page here.

Written in a quest to write a flash to every one of the icons Djinni has drawn for me.
a man with a white ponytail, a suit, and a frown.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/810315.html. You can comment here or there.

Bunking Arrangements

Sep12

This follows after: Taking Chances, Betting on it, Betting Time, and is before Accidental.

It fills the “Sleeping arrangements” square on my [community profile] ladiesbingo card and was prompted by [personal profile] kelkyag.

559 words by MSWord.

“There have been, ah, some changes in arrangements.” As openings went, Genique had done better. But this was the Quartermaster. “I need to change my bunking arrangements, that is.”

Genique was growing familiar with all of the officers on the pirate ship, but she had not yet entirely figured out Marist Irio, the Quartermaster.

For instance, the way the woman was looking at her now, on Genique’s home planet, would have been a leer. But there was something about it that seemed almost innocent, compared to the way, say, Genique’s older brother had once leered about a gentleman caller.

“You know, you are my type, but I didn’t think I was yours, cougar-lady. But I do get a nice plush bunk as Quartermaster.”

Ah! Genique ducked her head and hoped she wasn’t blushing as badly as she thought she was. “Marist…”

“Relax, relax! I wondered what you’d do with that. Farm folk, land folk, can be…”

“Prudes.” Genique forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze. “Yes, they can. But I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m a pirate, now.”

“Or at least a pirate’s accountant. So, who’s the lucky pirate?”

“I don’t know if he really counts as lucky…”

“Listen, pretty cougar-lady, he’s shacking up with you. I wasn’t kidding about the offer of my bunk, even if I was trying to get a rise out of you.”

Genique studied the woman, head tilted. “I’m ‘normal,’“ she reminded her. “Boring.”

“Normal’s different than boring, kitten.”

A month ago, Genique would have swallowed the pet name. Now, she shot the Quartermaster a smile she’d copied from the First Mate Clyd. “’Cougar’ is fine. ‘Kitten’, however, not so much.”

Marist Irio simply grinned at her. “Go you, cougar, you’ve got spine. Now. If you’re not looking for a room with me, are you going to tell me who it is that you’re asking to bunk with?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d tell me what the procedure was.”

“And, what, have you try to bypass it?” The Quartermaster was still grinning. “Gossip is gossip, cat-lady. And if I’m going to give you a bunking form, you’re going to tell me why you need the form, and the bunk.”

Genique looked at the wall behind the Quartermaster’s head and gathered her thoughts. “Okay. You still have a box of forms that needs detangling. I need a copy of – hunh. Do you not GET bunking change forms? I haven’t seen one yet.”

“They really don’t come up all that often.” There was something weird about the way Marist Irio wouldn’t quite look at Genique, but then again, there was something a little weird about everyone here. “It’s form Q12-18. Maybe when you’re done in the Pit we should have you redo our forms, too.”

“I’d like that.” It would make sorting out the next mess so much easier.

“You really would, wouldn’t you?” Marist shook her head. “If Basi had only known what he was grabbing…”

“Well, that doesn’t matter now, does it?” And why was she a what, anyway? “Can I have the bunk-change form?”

“If you tell me who it’s for.” Marist reached behind her, hands on a stack of forms.

“Marsey Wilswoodronny.” There couldn’t be any harm in telling, could there?

The Quartermaster’s hands moved down a form. “Ah, I see. Here’s your form.”

“Thank you.” That hadn’t been that hard.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/810013.html. You can comment here or there.