Archive | June 2015

Check Out Rix-Scaedu’s Prompt Call

[personal profile] rix_scaedu is having a very important prompt call! (http://rix-scaedu.livejournal.com/223313.html)

Rix needs to raise money for a new laptop so that we can read the end of the Nai story (http://rix-scaedu.livejournal.com/143154.html) (Which Rix writes on that laptop, which is dying). Go leave a prompt, leave a tip, enjoy the story, leave another tip 😉

Right here: http://rix-scaedu.livejournal.com/223313.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/949554.html. You can comment here or there.

An Educational Visit, Part II/?

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s request/commission after I Should Visit and Part I; 1,431 words

The buildings were almost entirely stone, or, at least, things that would qualify as Eperu; according to Regine’s records, that was one of Cynara’s best Words, although Meentik had not been one of her Words at all. They were made with skill and grace, not generally more than three stories tall, and their architecture echoed both Hopi buildings and northeastern brownstones. Bright banners and signs hung from many walls, and the shops lining Main Street seemed to be doing a brisk business. Regine noticed three clothing vendors, each with their own specific niche market; a yarn-and-thread-and-cloth store with three people spinning in the center of the store and one weaving in the back; a baker, a butcher, a candlestick-maker; a cheese store with the fragrant odors of ripe cheese wafting out. The list went on. Nothing was particularly high-tech, but everything that one needed to live somewhat comfortably seemed represented.

“It seems to be a thriving town,” Regine allowed carefully. “I do, ah, see some people who appear poor.”

“I imagine that is a side effect of being a city.” Drake nodded at the woman Regine had been thinking of, a thinnish woman with four small children close to her, all of them dressed in worn but clean clothing. “They do not appear starving, however.”

“You’re quite proud of this little town, aren’t you?” Regine could not remember the last time Drake had spoken so glowingly of anything.

“Cya was my Student. And considering how dark some of my Students have chosen to go with their understanding of the Law, it is pleasing to see one being productive. Ah, lemon ice. I wonder if they do that with Workings, or if they have refrigeration? We should stop on the way back.”

Regine ignored him. He was clearly biased about Cynara and everything involving her. “And here are the gates to the Tower. Another wall. Lovely.” The Tower was a Reuleaux triangle in base, encased in a larger Reuleaux triangle of walls. Wide, open, unguarded gates admitted them from Main Street into the Tower’s courtyard; the Tower itself had doors tall enough to admit a giant, also propped open.

A short teenaged boy was leaning insolently against the door. He had feathers growing from his flame-red curls, a nose like a beak, and more freckles than Regine had seen on any five people. He was wearing a grey and black plaid kilt with a white dress shirt and sky-blue and yellow tie and socks, and his smile was cocky and self-satisfied.

When he pushed off the door, Regine noticed he had tailfeathers as well, in red and iridescent green-blue. “You must be the vee-eye-pees.” He drawled out the word like he found it amusing.

“Let me see. You must be Director Regine, sa’Lady of the Lake, and Professor Drake, sa’Firedrake.” His bow was low enough to be comical. “I’m Kurt cy’Inazuma, and I will be your guide today. First, we need to go to the Principal’s Office. Right this way.”

Regine followed obediently, as did Drake, although he was making a thoughtful face. “‘Inazuma’ means lightning,” he murmured. “But I don’t remember anyone with a Japanese Name.”

Kurt turned around and grinned at them. “Tall guy? Blonde? Awesome swordsman? Anyway, Professor Inazuma is awesome. Here’s the first floor of the Tower, it’s mostly city offices and the giant assembly hall, that’s that point of the tower and, ah, most of that one.” He gestured casually around the marble-lined-and-floored foyer. “And we’re going up a few flights.”

The stairs – marble as well – coiled up the center of the tower in a wide, showy Reuleaux triangle of curved flights, up until they reached the third floor, where the stairs narrowed and straightened to something more staid. And up they continued. Regine was not out-of-shape, but she thought perhaps five stories was a bit high for a Principal’s office. The child, on the other hand, had seemingly no problem bouncing up the stairs.

“Principal, not Director?”

“Oh, well Principal Doomsday is Principal. Director Cyndequil runs all the day-to-day stuff, and then sa’Doomsday runs the school.” Kurt grinned brightly. “And cy’Red, of course.”

“Of course,” Regine answered dryly. She recognized Cyndequil’s name, too. He’d been a very clever student, and had turned down her job offer. She wondered if Cynara had given him a choice.

“And okay, here we go. I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done, and then I’ll show you the school.” The boy bowed again, so deep that his kilt flew up in the back, and gestured them into the office with a flourish.

It said “Principal Doomsday” on the frosted glass door. The door itself was open a crack, and when Regine went to knock, it swung open.

Inside, Cynara sat behind a heavy oak desk. She was smiling, which Regine found she immediately distrusted. “Director Regine. Professor Drake.” She did not stand, but nodded her head at them. “Please, take a seat. I wondered how long it would take you to deign to visit, Director.”

Because she was aware of it, Regine noticed immediately that the chairs were both uncomfortable and lower in seat than Cynara’s chair. Subtle pettiness and nothing more, and yet she shifted in her seat. “I didn’t believe I would be welcome, and it seems I was accurate. What are you hiding while you stall, Cynara?”

“Hiding?” She had not changed her Mask since she left Addergoole; she still had the same ridiculous dyed-red hair and the same just-finished face of a teenager. Her eyebrow raise, she’d clearly learned from Drake. “I’m hiding nothing. If anything, I’m showing more.” She gestured out the window behind her at the city. “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“This pettiness does not suit you, Cynara.” Regine frowned repressively.

“Pettiness?” Cynara smirked. “Oh, no. Pettiness would have been turning you away at the front gate. Or attacking you as an invader. No, this is how we greet people in my city.”

“Not all people.”

“Not all people are threats. Speaking of — will you be wanting to see the school?”

“Is that then a threat?”

“No. It’s an assessment of the threat you provide. Will you?” She was so smug. Regine did not remember her having ever been this arrogant before.

Feu Drake leaned forward. “We would be interested in seeing the facilities, Cya. I give you my word that I do not come with any military or tactical interest in mind, nor do I come wishing the students of Doomsday Academy or their parents any ill-will.”

Regine raised her eyebrows. “Is all that really necessary?”

“Have you ever known me to swear an oath when it was not absolutely necessary, sa’Lady of the Lake? We are not here as her teachers; that would be ridiculous. Cya jae’Doomsday has been an Adult for over fifty years. I gave her the Name she carries before the gods returned. We are not her teachers.”

“I do get the point, yes. But we raised and taught her, and thus have the right to–”

Feu Drake cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, sa’Lady of the Lake, but I believe you will wish to reconsider your phrasing. We are not on the Council, we are very notably not part of the Council, if you recall, and even the Council exists next to and not within the Law. We have absolutely no right within the Law and no human rights other than those given by the laws of Cloverleaf in regards to Cya Red Doomsday.”

Regine cleared her throat. “There are, of course, implied rights…” Such as her implied right to blast this irritant where he stood. He had the absolute worst timing when it came to his more pedantic moments.

“You brought me here to advise you. Sa’Lady of the Lake, I am advising you that at this moment, it would do us much better not to lean on implied, suggested, or potential anything.”

Regine found her heartbeat was speeding up and her fingers were drumming on the desk. She stilled herself. “I accept your advice.” She nodded at Cynara. “Please, you were saying?”

The girl smirked at her, insouciant and unrepentant. “There’s a form to be signed, if you’re going to be going near the students. Which a tour of the school would, of course, necessitate.” She passed the paper across the desk. “Profesor Drake’s oath covers all the necessary points, but I still need a signature from you.”

Regine spared the paper a brief glance. “And if I don’t sign?”

“Then we will see you to the gate and bar your entrance.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/949288.html. You can comment here or there.

Pictures Forthcoming, I promise (Last Weekend/SCA)

I have been quiet for a couple of reasons.

The first is that I started focusing on longer works, with the intention of working on one project each day of the week (Mondays for my Doomsday-with-Cal project, Tuesdays for Edally, Wednesdays for Inner Circle, and so on). (You can see one of the few exceptions here. If I don’t win the contest, I’ll post it here, too.) The results of this experiment have been mixed… probably in part because of the second reason.

I spent almost every moment last week that I wasn’t at work working on My First Garb (technically, second garb, but the first one was in my early 20s, soo), a kirtle/cotehardie based on http://medievaltailor.com/kirtles-overview/kirtle-pattern/ but with back-lacing and belled, lined sleeves. For My First SCA Event (for realsies, although back in my early 20s I attended a few fencing practices and one baronial meeting, and I’ve been to one fencing practice locally, when Rion was living in my attic).

The kirtle came out pretty nicely. I got a couple compliments on it, despite it’s non-period and slightly time-travelling elements. 😀 😀 There are a few things I’ll fix, but I can fix those later.

And I had a blast. People were friendly, everyone smiled, I was with my friend Q and his giant giant giant dog Mouse, so any time I got stressed out, I could hide behind the dog (which I did more than a couple times). Q. & his girlfriend were also really patient with my need to ease into the whole “people” thing. I’m already looking forward to “when can I do another event?”

Of course, then I immediately got sick and spent Tuesday and Wednesday unable to write a word. But that’s okay, I’m better now, and wrote 1300 words on a submission yesterday. Yay!

(and I’ve been spending every spare minute pinteresting, googling, and generally wondering “okay, what do I make/acquire next?” Current list, possibly not in order: Feast Gear (I have some), Belt, Cloak (brr!), tote/haversack/pilgrim’s bag.)

*cough* So how’ve you all been? What are your current projects?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/949199.html. You can comment here or there.

Down, Down, Down – a Patreon Story

This is written to Clare K. R. Miller ‘s request for “…more Doug being awesome? More of this.”  It follows after the linked story, which itself follows, in part, after Addergoole: Year 9.

~

Doug was back in a war zone. They were in the bowels of Addergoole, battling creatures that would not see reason. They’d brought Agmund down with them — three of Doug’s cy’ree, two of Luke’s, and two of Agmund’s were guarding the rear, in case anything got through — but these creatures seemed impervious to Panida Workings. Just in case, they’d tried Intinn and Tlacatl. Nothing.

“They are either animals or they are Makers,” Agmund had declared firmly. “If they cannot be read by Intinn, they are animals.”

Whatever let him sleep at night. Doug ripped his blade through another one and began to burn the body before it had stopped bleeding. These things, if you didn’t get them all the way dead on the first go, they got back up again. Whatever they were.

“That’s the last of them, I think.” Luke cleaned his blade on the scorched, ashy hide of the creature. It looked like the unclean offspring of a warthog and a wyvern by way of a platypus, and now by way of a woodchipper and a fireplace. “I hope Laurel’s figured out what the blazes they were doing down—”

“Hsst.” Doug moved forward, tracking the faintest sound. “There’s still something down here.”

They each muttered their own not-here Workings, silencing them, hiding them, and strode forward. Doug’s wing-stubs twitched with each broken wall and glass-windowed door. He wanted to cleanse this place with fire, the whole thing. He wanted to bury it.

He saw a faint shimmer as Luke — hopefully it was Luke — pushed open the next door. Doug readied a fireball and his blade.

That wasn’t a monster. He pulled the fire back so quickly it nearly scorched his throat, before he had processed more than that. Those weren’t monsters. They were people. Those were kids.

Want more?

Help me create a meta-fictional fandom & female super-hero

Okay!

Imagine a world very much like ours, except, through some twist of fate, a major comic book publisher managed to create a female super-hero whose path followed something like Batman’s/Superman’s in our world.

She got a long-running TV show in the 60’s, movies in the 70’s, then a reboot in the early 90’s and another reboot around 2010. The comic strip has spawned dozens of side-lines. There have been animated shows and even a brief musical. Fanfiction abounds. Fan wars abound.

She would have first appeared in a Wonder Worlds Comics (Often called, because of its logo, V4 or V4C) in the mid-30’s.

So:

She needs a name. It needs to be a woman or lady or anything that isn’t girl, please.
It also needs to be not something that already shows up on a Google search, ’cause this is showing up in to-be-published work. <.<

I would like for her to have a super-power of some sort, and a secret identity.

edited to add: now I have two! Waterwoman/Liquid Lady and the Aerialist!

I’m leaning more towards Bruce Wayne than Clark Kent in this secret identity, even though such heros don’t usually have superpowers.

She needs at least 2 sidekicks, pref. with catchphrases, one male and one female.

A trademark villain or two wouldn’t be bad, either.

And anything else you can think of!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/948837.html. You can comment here or there.

An Educational Visit, Part I/?

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s request/commission after I Should Visit; 1,447 words

“I’m impressed.” Regine snorted dryly. “She’s managed to reinvent bureaucracy.”

“Just a few more forms, ma’am, sir.” The guard – human, Regine was nearly certain – smiled a tight, efficient bureaucrat’s smile and brought forth another ream of paper. Where had Cynara even found a papermill? “Now, are you bringing any animals into the city?”

“This is a short visit to see an old student. We’re not immigrating.” Next to her, Feu Drake said nothing, only smirked inscrutably as he’d been doing for hours. “No, there are no animals with us. Tempero Intinn Rodger–”

She had quite a bit of practice sliding Workings such as this into conversation, but utterly none at doing so when a klaxon started blaring. She faltered, frowning; the door to the tiny waiting room thumped open.

This guard was openly displaying her Change: sharp, short horns and very large wings. She was also wearing Captain’s stripes and a frown. She hit a button, and the klaxon silenced.

“Ma’am, you may not have been aware — being a visitor to our city — but use of mind control in Cloverleaf is strongly discouraged, and use of such powers on an officer of the law is illegal and punishable by exile. This will be your only warning.”

She left while Regine was still formulating a response. The guard still remaining smiled very tightly at her, squared his papers, and started again. “Are you bringing any plants into the city?”

Three excruciating pages of inane questions later, the guard stood up. “All right.” He opened the door for them. “Head down Main Street here until you reach the large tower at the center of the city. A guide will meet you there.”

“Finally.” Regine stood and brushed off her skirt. Next to her, Feu Drake had risen, still wearing the same implacable expression.

“By ‘tower,’” he asked dryly, “I assume you mean that giant edifice stabbing into the sky?”

“Yep, that’s the one. Ah, sir, one question first. I’ve got – well, I’ve only got one but I’m holding onto it, would you mine signing it for me?”

“Signing… what?” Drake raised his eyebrows. Regine tried not to chafe at the wait. It would not hurt them to wait a few more moments.

“Oh, the five-hundred Clover bill. It’s a really good likeness, sir, I recognized you right away.” The guard carefully pulled a small, flat box from his sleeve, and from it he rifled through a couple bills until he came on the five-hundred clover.

It was made, Regine noted, much like an old Canadian bill, before the Collapse. And it was definitely a very nicely-etched likeness of Feu Drake, complete with trademark sneer. It was in mint condition, crisp and new.

“Some are harder to track down than others. You, I never figured we’d see you here, it’s been so long.”

“I see. Well, certainly I can autograph it. If you have a pen?”

“Right here.” The guard produced a very nice fountain pen.

While Feu Drake was signing, Regine cleared her throat. “What is the buying power of this bill?”

“Buying — oh, like, what’ll it get you? Um. I dunno, it’s the only one I’ve ever gotten and I saved up for it for a while for the collection. But, oh! That’s starting guards’ salary for a week.”

“Interesting. Thank you. Feu Drake…”

“Very interesting. And a nice likeness. I remember when that picture was taken.” He straightened up. “Ah. Yes, let’s continue.”

“Just down Main Street,” the guard pointed. “Like you said, you can’t miss it.”

The tower rose up over the rest of the city, a twisting edifice. Regine wondered how it had been built; with pre-collapse tools and equipment it might have been easy, but there had been nothing like this here before the catastrophe. From the guard station, it was very clearly visible, and, as the guard had said, the main street pointed, straight and wide, directly towards it.

The sidewalks were nearly as wide as the street; considering there was much more foot traffic than wagon or car, this made sense; considering both sidewalks were also full of small tents of street vendors, tables for cafes, musicians with hats out, and children playing, Regine wondered if maybe the sidewalks should not have been wider still.

“It’s quite active here,” she commented. “And the buildings look quite intact.” They were walking past an inn, according to the sign, and coming up on a small cafe, its tables full of people taking in the late-spring sunshine.

“Well, it is a city, with walls and safety, electricity and plumbing.” Feu Drake pointed at the streetlights which, in the bright sun of midday weren’t on. “Those are still rare, so I imagine even if the immigration requirements are as onerous as our visiting paperwork was–”

“I can’t imagine it would be less onerous!”

“You, sa’Lady of the Lake, have often suffered from quite a lack of imagination.” He delivered it so calmly that it took Regine a moment to realize she’d been insulted. “They recognized me on sight; they knew your name. And there, settled in for lunch and already on dessert,” he gestured at the cafe, “is a family that was three behind us in line entering the city. ‘Do you have any plants,’ indeed.”

“You are saying we were deliberately stalled?”

“I am saying that they reached for the form Ess-Tee-four-one-one and decided instead on Ess-Aitch-One-Seven, which was twice as thick as their first choice and four times as thick as the form they had picked for the couple in front of us. Yes, sa’Lady of the Lake–” It was not Regine’s imagination, she was sure, that Feu Drake was smirking, “–they wished to make us irritable and impatient. And you, uncharacteristically I might add, took the bait.”

Regine twisted her lips. “She was trying to make me angry.”

“I don’t think it was aimed specifically at you, but, yes, I believe she was attempting to irk us. Are you going to walk into this situation angry, sa’Lady of the Lake?”

She looked at the man thoughtfully. “I have a name as well as a Name.” Unlike him, who chose only to be the Fire-Drake. She could have researched him deeply enough to find his given name. She had respected his wishes and not done so.

“I believe this situation calls for formality. You are irked, and when you are irked, you often resort to full formality. And, in this case, that would not be a bad choice. They were your students, but this is their home.”

There was a warning there, one even Regine could hear. But, as she chose not to be lectured like a student herself, she ignored it, instead returning to looking around the street and the city.

“You said you imagined that, even with the oddities of paperwork, there would…”

She had interrupted him. He was correct; it was the time for formality, if she had been shaken enough to be rude.

He was not the sort of man to bring it up directly. “Yes. It seems like the sort of place that one might want to immigrate. True, there are still a few enclaves, and those have more obvious higher technology–” He held up a finger, and Regine tolerated this, because she had interrupted him. “–I say more obvious, because although there are no signs of pre-collapse or higher levels of such things visible, we do not know what lies beneath the city or behind walls. Even so, if Addergoole and the Village or an Enclave were not an option, this would be a very lovely place to live, indeed. And the walls seem to provide a bit of safety.”

Regine mulled over that. “It’s quite real-seeming. Genuine and proper looking, like a city ought to appear.”

“My dear Regine.” And now, the Fire-Drake smiled. It was not, Regine mused, a particularly pleasant expression. “You allow great feats from those students with whom you get along. I would suggest you believe the same from those that disagree with you.”

Regine frowned. “You’re certainly not suggesting that I’m underestimating these children because they were difficult students.”

“I’m suggesting exactly that. Rather than arguing with me, why don’t you look around the city? We’ve got, it seems, perhaps a quarter-mile before we reach the Tower.”

“You want me to sight-see.” She pursed her lips tightly.

“You came here to look at what Cya and Boom had wrought. I’m suggesting you look.”

He was much less obnoxious within the confines of Addergoole. But she had brought him along to advise her, and, thus, Regine took Drake’s advice and looked around.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/948562.html. You can comment here or there.

Garb/dress advice needed

I am making a kirtle/cotehardie in a hurry, based off of this page.

Since the original plan was for a T-tunic, I’m a little short on length in my original fabric. I decided to make a virtue out of necessity and hem the thing with a deep (~9″) guard of a brighter cut of the same fabric.

Right now, what I have is a dress (sleeveless, working on that too) with 10 different hemlines, up to 6″ different in length (I had some math errors, I think, or some measuring errors).

Since the hem is going to be an encased hem, I can’t just sew a strip to the dress and then hem it at the bottom.

So: What’s the easiest way to get a level hem while attaching a deep guard to the bottom of my dress?

Additionally, aesthetically – should I add a strip of the brighter material to the end of the sleeve (which will be belled), inserted just above the elbow as a band, or both?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/948258.html. You can comment here or there.

On the Lifeboat, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call/Kuro_Neko

Written to Kuro-Neko’s commissioned continuation of Survival, of Fae Apoc, sometime in late 2011/early 2012.

Three, two… “Are you saying…” Ross Wetherschilde spoke slowly, as if not quite wanting to get to the end of his sentence. “…that there is a ‘fae’ onboard this life raft?”

“Of course that’s what she’s freaking saying, you freaking nincompoop!” Tanya Jones spoke fast enough for three Ross Wetherschildes. “The question is, how does she know! And who?”

“I think it’s obvious, don’t you?” Yonrit thought she knew every voice on the raft, but this one made her open her eyes: small, sardonic, and very quiet. Aah, the slender woman who had barely spoken since the crash, of course. “There’s one way to know for certain that someone is fae.”

She met Yonrit’s eyes; Yonrit didn’t look away. Around them, the conversation seemed to roil and bubble.

“…stab ‘em with rowan, that’s how!”

“Iron, you hang a horseshoe on your doorway.”

“We don’t have any horseshoes and we don’t have any doorways. Or rowan.”

“You spill rice, don’t you?”

“No, that’s vampires. Hey, do you think vampires are real, too?”

“Taylor, you’ve asked that at least seventeen times since we ended up here. Nobody knows.”

“Except maybe the fae on the boat.”

It kept going, people talking over each other, people shouting and swearing and repeating themselves. Yonrit kept her eyes on the other woman. After this many days on a lifeboat, she looked as unwashed as the rest of them; like Yonrit, her clothes were already beginning to hang loose on her body.

“So, who is it?” In the end, it was Tanya Jones who asked Yonrit. “If there’s a fae here, and you know who – who is it?”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Yonrit swallowed around her nerves and repeated herself. “Would you rather die or be helped by a fae?”

“That wasn’t the question,” the slender woman pointed out. “The question was, would we rather die or be on a boat with a fae?”

“They’re both important questions.” Yonrit could feel every eye in the boat on her. She tried not to shrink in on herself.

“So,” Tanya Jones tried, “we have to answer the question, and then you’ll tell us?”

Yonrit nodded mutely. What was she going to do if they said die? What was she going to do if some of them said die?

“Well, I’ll go first.” Tanya Jones leaned forward in her seat. “Look, if it was Poseidon or the dick who called himself Hades or that cadre of bitches that ruined his town in Illinois or someone like that, yeah, I’d die trying to kill them. But what was the news saying just before we went overboard? Hundreds of thousands of fae have been living here on earth forever? I mean, that’s what some of the awful ones have said, too. ‘We were born on Earth.’“ Her voice dropped down to a deep super-hero imitation. “‘We want to defend Earth.’ While they’re ripping up buildings. I guess what I mean is, if it’s a fae saving my life, well, my life is still saved, isn’t it?”

She nodded to the man next to her. “What about you?”

“I’d die. I don’t want any of those filthy creatures touching me.”

And so it went.

Yonrit struggled to keep her face calm, to not show fear or anger or even hope. She struggled to not look like she agreed with anyone. For the most part, it was wasted effort — the whole lifeboat was watching whoever was talking at the moment. Everyone but the thin girl, who had not yet stopped staring at Yonrit.

Finally, they were back to her. Tanya looked down at her fingers. “That’s fourteen people saying ‘please save my life’ and seven saying ‘screw everything fae, even if I die.’ And you.”

Yonrit took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, Tonya, Miss Jones, since you took the vote, I’m saying you’re in charge. Anyone argue?”

One large, obnoxious guy looked like he wanted to argue, but in the face of a boat full of nodding, he only got out half a sound.

“All right. Okay, remember what you all said.”

“Are you going to tell us who the fae is now?” The woman was still staring at Yonrit. Her eyes were drilling through her, and her voice held an unpleasant urgency.

“I don’t think that’s really the necessary part.” They might kill her. They were going to die either way, she was likely to die either way. It was that or start eating each other. “All right.” She closed her eyes and cupped her hands in front of her. “Meentik Huamu delta αβοκάντο.”

She heard the gasps. She heard the swearing. She heard nothing at all from the thin woman. More importantly, she felt the thud of four avocados in her hands.

“Now.” Yonrit’s voice was very quiet, but it didn’t need to be any louder. “It’s up to every one of you if you eat what I provide or not. It has its limits — if I do too much, I’ll pass out — but I believe I can make enough food to keep us alive until we’re rescued.” She set the avocados down in front of her. “These first, because they’re easy to eat and more calorie-dense than, say, an orange. And then some beans, I think. That is…” Yonrit swallowed hard and looked around the lifeboat. “That is, if you’re not going to kill me.”

Everyone squirmed. Everyone but the thin woman, who was looking at Yonrit now with mostly confusion. Finally, one woman spoke up. She had been the most vocal about hating fae; one of the returned gods had killed her husband.

“They say that the fae can’t lie. That if they promise to tell the truth, they have to. Is that true?”

Yonrit nodded slowly. “That’s true.”

“Can you… can you swear that you’re not one of those fae who’s been causing all those problems? Because so far, you’ve only acted like a normal person. No pointy ears, no blowing ships up. And I haven’t seen any of these ‘gods’ raining down avocados.”

That was relatively easy. Yonrit nodded, a little less slowly this time. “I can promise you that I have never, through action or inaction, caused a human death. That’s, that’s why I spoke up.” She hugged herself. “Because it would kill you all if I didn’t say anything.”

She shared a look with the slender woman, who looked away, frowning. The widow was speaking again, just as slowly.

“Then I can’t see any reason to punish you for risking yourself to save us. Can you make enough without straining yourself?”

“It won’t be haute cuisine. And it won’t be enough to gorge ourselves. But yeah, yeah, I think I can.” Yonrit might still be stuck in a lifeboat, but for the first time in weeks, for the first time since the gods had returned, she felt like she was on solid ground again.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/948171.html. You can comment here or there.

The Light, a microfic of Fae Apoc for Thimbleful Thursday

Leave a Light On(4)

Every evening, just before dusk, Margolotta lit the two blue lamps by the front door. They burned all night, every night, even when oil was scarce, even when they had been struggling the worst. It had been fifteen years, and still she walked out the front door and put a flame those lights every night.

“For guests,” she said, whenever asked. The roads weren’t safe to travel at night, and no guests came after dusk. But still, she lit the lamps. “For guests.”

On clear nights, she’d wait on the front porch, staring down the road. He’d promised he’d come back, and she’d promised she’d leave the light on.


written to May 28th’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt.

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