Archives

Gonna Be a Samurai, a story of Doomsday Academy for the Giraffe Call

Aug22

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt, although I didn’t get to the catboy part yet! O-O

Using Cynara (Prof. Doomsday) and Leofric (Prof. Inazuma)’s son’s icon, since I don’t actually have an icon for either of them.

Set about 5 years into Doomsday.

Austin was going to be a samurai.

He had known since he was five years old and that wandering samurai had come through town, killing the monster and rescuing Austin and his little sister.

He had known despite his mother’s insistence that one crazy man in funny armor did not mean that samurai really still existed. He had known even when his older brothers – 6 and 8 years older than him – told him that he couldn’t be anything like that, that the best he could hope for was to be a farmer, like his (not their) father. He had known despite his father spending every day of every week teaching him how to be a proper farmer, how to be a land-lord in, his father said, the old sense.

He read books on samurai, first from the local library, then, when he was old enough, he convinced his parents to let him to go the next town over on a trade caravan. They had a bigger library, salvaged from the ruins of several towns.

His older brothers went to school, but he and his sister, their parents said, were going to stay at home, where it was safe, where they could learn how yo be proper farmers. Austin kept reading – now the scroungers knew to look out for books for him – and kept learning. He was going to be a samurai some day.

When the letter came from the Academy, Austin was unsure. He was going to be a samurai farmer – what did he need with school.

His mother and father were unsure – he was going to be a farmer. What did he need with school? Besides, his mother had gotten her fill of boarding schools. And Austin was barely ten years old.

And then Professors Inazuma and Doomsday walked into their town. Looking over the blonde professor – Inazuma – in his kimono, Austin knew he was going to Doomsday.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/785910.html. You can comment here or there.

Doomsday Academy: First Day of History Class

Aug21

This is set in Cynara’s Doomsday Academy, several years after its founding. Dáirine is the daughter of Amadeus and Margherita, from Year Nine stories, and shows up briefly in Yoshi tales.

On the first day of class, Dáirine – Professor Lily – gave each of her students a small clay pot filled with dirt and a maple seed.

This year, as with every year so far, she watched the students as they looked in confusion between her and the pots.

One of them – a girl with the Aelfgar look to her, although that wasn’t saying much, around here – cleared her throat. Gróa, that was her name, poor thing. “Miss – Professor Lily? We already had science class.”

Brave girl. Dáirine smiled at her. “Yes. I know. But there are more things to be learned from a seed and a pot than, say, photosynthesis. Now, humor me, if you will. Plant your seed, then pass around the water.”

She showed them by example, planting her own seed in its little pot. “Very good. Now, this tree is going to be with you until you graduate from Doomsday-“

“What if it dies?” The young man had a curly mess of red hair and more freckles than any three people ought to have. Sawyer, his name was.

“Well, then, we’ll learn something from that, too, and you’ll get another seed.”

“So… it’s meant to be a metaphor?” Gróa leaned forward. “Sort of?”

“Very good.” Dáirine used her best you-clever-person-you smile. “Many metaphors. The first of which will be – that which you nurture, survives.”

She sat down on her desk and looks around. “So. What do you think that the survivors of The Great Mess nurtured?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/784272.html. You can comment here or there.

Doomsday Academy: First Day of Survival Class

Aug3

This is set in Cynara’s Doomsday Academy, several years after its founding. Kheper is a Year Nine Student.

Nine children were waiting in Cynara’s classroom. Nine Third-year students, twelve years old and fresh out of Ascha’s tender care.

Every year, Ascha said the same thing to her, don’t scare them, Aunt Cya.

And every year, Cya said back to her crewmate’s daughter, oh, come on, you know me.

Yes, I do. And they’d both laugh, and roll their eyes, and Cya would walk away wondering what, exactly, was so frightening about her.

Don’t scare them. She walked into the classroom and smiled at the children. “Hello, and welcome to Survival Level One.” She looked around at the children – bright-eyed kids, two years in and old hands at this whole school thing. “Over the next five years, I’m going to teach you how to survive in just about any circumstance.”

They shared looks amongst themselves. Cya could read in some faces all that in five years and in others that’s going to take five years?

She’d been teaching this class for five years. She’d gotten used to both reactions.

She smiled at all of them again. “Pull out paper and a pencil. We’re going to start with an exercise.” She’d done this with her kids. She’d done this with her grandkids. If the fates were kind, she’d probably be teaching this to her great-grandkids in a few years. “Imagine that you are, say, building a small town for thirty-five people. List everything that you will need for their survival.” She held up a hand. “There are no wrong answers, and I full expect that every one of you will have different answers.” She looked over their faces again. “You’ve all come from very different places, after all.”

And there, there was the thing Ascha kept warning Cya about. Fear.

Cya swallowed the sigh and made the smile a little wider and, she hoped, a little more reassuring. Nineteen-year-old Addergoole graduates were easy. Why were thirteen-year-old students so hard?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/761679.html. You can comment here or there.

Doomsday Academy: First Day of School for First Years

Aug1

This is set in Cynara’s Doomsday Academy, several years after its founding. Ascha is a child of Magnolia, a Second Cohort Student.

“Hello, children.” Ascha stepped out from Cynara’s shadow and smiled at the gathered ten-year-olds and their very-nervous parents. “Hello parents. I’m Aceline Waterbridge, but you can call me Miss Ascha. I teach the First and Second Year students here at Doomsday Acedemy.”

She walked down from the low stage as she spoke, letting her skirt swish against the stairs. Soothing sounds, soothing thoughts. Her brother liked to tease her that she looked like a kindergarten teacher. Ascha had decided to take the concept to heart.

“The dormitory for this year’s first-year students is right this way. You’ll share a building with the second- and third-year children, and, of course, with me. My assistant, Ammon Donndubhán – you can call him Mr. Ammon – lives in the building as well. You’ll meet him in a few minutes.” She walked down the middle aisle, smiling at the parents, smiling at the children. “It’s going to be a fun year, and we’re going to learn quite a bit.” Calm. Reassuring. Generally, about half her students had never been inside a school before. Almost all of them had never been away from home for any length of time.

She shifted her tone, turning her words to the parents as they, not really realizing what they were doing, fell in behind her. “The students will stay in the same dorm for their first three or four years; after that, they’ll move up to dorms by Mentor until their seventh or eighth year. All of the housing is monitored by an adult, and it’s all well within the school walls.” She pitched her voice up a bit. “You can see the Dining Hall to my left here; there are covered walkways for the summer and,” she dropped her voice into a melodramatic stage whisper, “tunnels for the winter.”

She turned to catch the expressions on her new students’ faces and grinned. It was always the most fun when she could get them to play along.

“And here…” she continued, “this will be your new home.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/760827.html. You can comment here or there.

Doomsday Academy; First Day of Law Class

Jul30

This is set in Cynara’s Doomsday Academy, several years after its founding. Kheper is a Year Nine Student.

Professor Kheper Agislaw strode into his Year Five Law class and posed.

He didn’t exactly think of it as posing, but he stood just inside the doorway, looking over the seven students who were fresh to the grown-up classes and, thus, fresh and new to him.

Four girls, three boys. The boys looked younger, impatient; the girls – most of them – looked solid and serious. At this age – they would be fourteen, plus or minus a few months – most of his students fit that pattern.

And they were all looking at him, even the most impatient boy. Kheper knew he was striking. He’d been striking since he hit puberty, and he’d had decades to polish the look.

Vain, Cya teased him, and he was fine with that.

This wasn’t Cya’s time, and this wasn’t time for vanity. He finished his walk into the classroom, his best smile touching his lips.

“Welcome to Introduction to Law. I am Professor Agislaw, and I will be your Law Professor for the next four years.” He waited for the predictable giggles to die down, counted to three, and reached behind him.

The first book thumped down on his desk with a meaty sound. One of the boys squeaked.

“This.” He gestured, indulging in his flair for the melodramatic. “Is the book of law for the city – it’s more of a town, really – of West Sands, in what was once Nevada.”

The next set thumped down, four books, each of them bigger than the single West Sands book. “These are the laws – the greater portion of the laws – of the Restored United States of America, on the east coast, in what was once mostly Virginia.”

He had their attention. He thumped down the much smaller book. Of course, she hadn’t had that many years to accumulate laws yet. “This is the legislation of Cynapolis, the city in which you are currently sitting.”

Pause. Pause.

The pamphlet hardly made a sound. “And this is the sum total of the Law of the Ellehemaei, which will occupy the vast majority of our time for the next four years.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/759111.html. You can comment here or there.

I Have This School, a story of Cynara/Regine (Boom) (@inventrix)

Apr29

This takes place some time (2 years or so) after The Year Cya Didn’t Keep Anyone.

She cleaned the dust of two years of hard labor off of herself before she went back to school; she re-dyed her hair the brilliant red it had been for most of her life and found clean, nice clothes. When she walked up to the wards and knocked, she didn’t look like the scruffy girl who had been pulling a city out of the earth by the force of her mind. She looked like a responsible adult.

She didn’t think it would help enough, but she thought that, considering the Administration, to not put on the facade would hurt too much.

She gained an audience with the Queen of Addergoole, Director Regine Avonmorea, by the simple expedient of asking. That was, Cynara had a feeling, the last easy part of this mission.

“Jae’Red Doomsday.” The Director nodded her head politely.

“Sa’Lady of the Lake.” Cya responded to the lack of inflection with an equally bland response.

“How can I help you today?” If Cya were to attempt to anthropomorphize, she would say the Director sounded tired.

“I came to offer you help.” Without further prelude – it was wasted on the Grigori Director – Cya laid out the carefully-chosen plans and diagrams, staff folios and curricula. “I’ve built a school.”

The Director almost looked surprised. A trick of the light, Cya assumed. She flipped through the pages, one at a time, either pretending to look through them or – more likely, considering that she had never showed any interest in pretense before – actually considering them. “This is a blueprint for something to be built?”

“This is the plan for something already built.” It was missing enough information, of course, to be no use in, say, an invasion, and suggested several things that were just not true, but it was a plan for the school.

“With suggestions for study plans and staff, I see.” She continued to flip the pages. “Heavily centered on your Crew.”

“As is Addergoole on yours.” She spoke levelly, calmly. Nothing explosive here. Nothing at all.

“I see you have a few spots left open.”

“If this project is to be part of the Addergoole system, then there will of course be room for other Addergoole graduates, or other teachers that you feel would be appropriate. Perhaps some of your core staff are looking for a little sunlight, and could be rotated out? I’m aware you have done that once or twice over the years.”

“You would be. Your grandsons are in school now?”

“One grandson, and a granddaughter, at the moment.” The threat was implicit, of course; Regine would never be so gauche as to spell it out.

“And this project of yours. You built it before making the offer?”

“I did.” She forbore any explanation or defense, although she had plenty of both.

“Very interesting.” The Director closed the notebook with a rather final-sounding thud. “You had in mind opening another branch, as with Addergoole East?”

“I did. Different students benefit from different learning environments.”

“They do. And your great-grandchildren…”

“Would have their school chosen by their mothers, of course, among the Addergoole options.”

“Of course. And, refresh me, how many of those mothers currently live on the Boom ranch?”

“Currently? Two.”

“Of course.” Regine brushed her hand over the book. “It’s a very good plan, Cynara, jae’Red Doomsday. But I’m afraid I am not interested with engaging in a partnership with Boom.”

Cya had not expected she would be, but she had allowed herself to hope. “May I ask why not?”

“Your crew has always been explosive. Revolutionary.”

“Explosive, I will grant. In our teens, we were very volatile.” We. It covered it well enough. “But revolutionary? There’s hardly anything left to revolt against.”

“A situation which I’m certain your crew could change, had they the desire.” It was a pat answer that didn’t actually answer anything. “No, jae’Doomsday, I do not think your Crew are the proper people for such an endeavor. I’m afraid you built your school in vain.”

“In vain?” Cya allowed herself a smile. “No, certainly not. There are fae who are not part of the Addergoole project, still. Less than there were, but they exist.” It was not a threat, not quite. Cynara was no more gauche (here and now) than her hostess.

“Your descendants are still promised to Addergoole.”

“Of course.” Cya smiled more broadly now. “All of the Addergoole-born descendants of Boom and their allies are promised to Addergoole, as it has always been.” She was un-threatened. She was un-offended. She had a lot of allies. And they all had children.

She watched the implication reach the Grigori’s computer that she used in place of a mind. All those grandchildren, all those great-grandchildren, raised by Boom.

Their kids had been impressive enough, en masse. Their grandkids…

“I wish you luck in your project, Cynara.”

“And I, you, in yours.”

She left before their threats could grow less civil.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/523284.html. You can comment here or there.