Archives

Friend to Friend, a drabble of Addergoole for @Kissofjudas

Sometime after year 30 of the school but before year 45.

“If anyone should know, Luca…”

This was by a long stretch not the conversation that Reid wanted to be having right now. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be having ever.

But it was the conversation he was having.

Mostly, he was trying to have a conversation, and Luca was growling at him.

“If it was Caitlin…”

“If it was Caitlin, I would wish you the best of luck and possibly offer you some armour. My daughter is a tough nut to crack, Luca, and with her twin in tow, you would need all of your Mara endurance to survive. But it’s not my daughter we’re talking about. Nor is it yours.”

“My daughter isn’t old enough.”

“I think we both know that’s not the point, Luca. That aside… this is Mystral we are speaking of. The daughter of one of your former students.”

“And one of my former students herself.”

“As Nyx was mine.” Reid was not a snarly sort of guy, but right now he wanted to snarl back at the stubborn, rock-headed Mara.

“Nyx wasn’t the child of a student.”

“No.” It was getting harder and harder to not snap. “Perhaps I am a little bit quicker about this than you are, Luca. And, considering that your daughter almost is old enough… perhaps you should learn how to be a bit faster.”

That got a wing flap and a frustrated noise. But Reid knew he was getting through. “You. You and Mike and ‘Fina…”

“And everyone else, I’m sure. Luca. We want to see you happy, that’s all.”

“I’l talk to her.”

“Good.” Reid let out a breath. A tetchy Mara made the whole school anxious, and Luca had been tetchy for far too many years. “Good, Luke. You need it.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/583049.html. You can comment here or there.

Tiana, her first Year

Fifth in a series of character-building vignettes following a bunch of characters through their time at Addergoole & beyond.

We have not seen Tiana before; Gerulf we have seen as a kid in the Baram’s house-Elves stories.


Year 27

“Didn’t your family have Kept?”

Gerulf was looking at Tiana as if she was some sort of strange creature he’d found in the bottom of the ocean. She, in return, was trying to fold up into a ball.

“My family are human. Normal, safe, everyday humans.” She couldn’t stand the way he was looking at her, and he wouldn’t stop. “They do normal, safe, everyday things.”

“It’s ten years after the apocalypse. Nobody’s doing ‘nice, safe, everyday’ things.”

The inexplicable urge to apologize and grovel was beginning to piss her off more than even his attitude was. “Because you’ve been all over the world in the ten years since the world ended, have you? You know everything everyone is doing, everywhere.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“What?” The urge was getting worse. She scooted back into the corner. “That’s like my mom telling me to watch my tone when I’m just saying the truth. What do you want me to watch?” No, seriously, because I’d really like to do what you want… what the hell is wrong with me?

Gerulf growled. “What I meant was, there’s no need to be disrespectful.”

The tension eased. “I don’t even know you. And you’re telling me I’m lying to you.”

“I’m not saying you’re lying.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. She resisted the urge to do the same.

“You said that ‘nobody lives safe, ordinary lives now.'”

“I’ve never seen it. I don’t know how it can be.” He frowned. “All right. You win that one. I can think of ways it could happen.”

“Thanks.” The tension eased a little more. Then he turned it all around.

“Of course, you’re not human, and neither are your parents.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/546605.html. You can comment here or there.

Amends

This may require more context than is available; it comes out of a couple different Addergoole-based RP’s .

Bracken is a former Addergoole student. not a good one, either, rebellious and difficult. She’s, at the point of this story, going through a heartbreak, trying to fix the damage in her heart and her psyche, and trying to make amends with people she’s harmed. Nick is her Kept. Alexi was, at one point, Bracken’s last year of school and Alexi’s first, Bracken’s Kept.

Sometime around Year 21 of the Addergoole school; 5 years after the world ended

There had been easy pieces of Bracken’s recovery journey.

Talking to the teachers at school had not been comfortable, but she’d been able to yell, to lay blame, to explain I wasn’t a bad kid, not really. I was terrified. And then you yelled at me.

Talking to the mind-healer had not been comfortable, but it had been productive. She felt her fear trickling away, even as the pain remained. She felt a sense of worth she’d never before known, and she could begin to allow herself the comfort of the man in her bed, the one who had told her he’d stay.

(The other one had said he’d stay too. But, at the moment, that wasn’t what she was trying to fix. He had his own road to walk).

This one was harder. This wasn’t someone who had wronged her; this wasn’t the ghosts in her own head, or someone who loved her as she was, scars and broken pieces and all. This was someone who clearly felt that she had wronged him, which was a whole new kettle of fish.

Nick, the teleporter who had stayed, brought her to Silas and Orlaith’s door, not for nearly the first time. And, again, poor timing or just bad luck, Alexi answered.

Bracken studied the skinny hermaphrodite and, for a moment, could not find the words to say. Nick’s gentle prod to her side reminded her that staring at someone could be considered intimidating.

She cleared her throat. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He took a step backwards, as if the small space could protect him more than the threshold she wasn’t going to cross without an invitation.

Nick’s hand on her back calmed her before she could say something stupid. “I came to talk to you, if it’s okay…?” He was wearing a collar. It struck her that the only time she had seen him without had been just before she’d put hers on him, and just after she’d taken it off.

“To me?” Alexi squeaked it out. “Uh. Why?”

That was a very good question. Bracken took a moment to suss out a decent answer. “You’re scared of me.”

“Well, yeah.” He peered at her, seeming to be suggesting that wasn’t really an answer.

“That means I did something wrong.”

“Uh? I mean… I guess I mean uh?” Alexi took another little step backwards, hand hovering over what Bracken assumed was a panic button. She held up both her hands.

“I screwed up, Alexi. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promise, it was never my intent to hurt you. And if I did, if you’re still scared of me now, it means I did something really wrong. And I’d like to make amends.”

The hermaphrodite blinked owlishly at her. “You want to… apologize?”

“Yeah.” She frowned, and found herself looking down at her toes, shoulders hunched. “I do. I want to make things better.”

“Why?” He was moving back towards the gate, at least.

She shrugged hard. This was hard. People were a lot harder to fix than cars, or clothes, or buildings. “Because I didn’t mean to make things bad in the first place. And…” Her shoulders jerked again. “It bugs me that I hurt you. I don’t want that on my conscience.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it as soon as it was out of her mouth. “You can’t erase the past.” He’s stopped moving closer. “You can’t undo it.”

“No. No.” She shook her head. “I can’t. But maybe I can make amends?” She was running out of ways to say the same thing. “Maybe we can, I dunno, understand each other a little better?”

He thought about that for long enough that she was starting to squirm. Finally, he nodded. “Come on in, if you mean those who reside here no harm.”

“I mean you and yours no harm.” She was surprised to find his invitation worked. “I thought you were…”

“I’m a kept boy without being Kept.” He smiled for the first time she she’d arrived. “I never really had a problem with that part of it.”

“I noticed. Urm.” She followed him into the small gate-house, which was surprisingly large enough for the three of them and rather well-appointed inside. “That’s why I was surprised when I saw you, and you were…” Hanging out with Marius had not improved her vocabulary. She flapped a hand.

“Frightened,” Nick provided.

“Frightened. Yes.”

Alexi frowned. “That bothered you?”

“Yeah?” She swallowed and struggled not to yell. “Yeah, it bothered me. I’m not scary. I’m not the bad guy.” She shrugged roughly. “I rescue people. I help people. I’m not good with people, but I’m not one of the monsters.”

“I know.” Alexi’s voice was soft, barely audible. Bracken glanced at him, then looked again. He looked a little confused, and a little worried. “I know, Bracken. You were never one of the bad guys.”

He reached across the small space and, very carefully, as if afraid she’d bite, he patted her knee. “I know that.”

She wasn’t sure if she should be reassured or more worried, but she felt a little tension leaving her shoulders anyway. A glance at Nick told her that he was, if not smiling, at least frowning less. “You’re still scared of me, though.”

“You were so angry. All through my whole first year. And when you showed up here, you were angry again. You’re kind of scary when you’re angry.”

“I fix things.” She sounded like she was pleading, and she wasn’t sure she cared.

“If you’ve ever seen yourself waving a wrench around…” Alexi shrugged. “Sorry. I mean. I know you’re one of the good guys. But you’re just kind of scary. And when I was Kept by you – you were angry all the time. So you were kind of scary all the time.” Alexi shrugged again. “Sorry. I really am. I’m not trying to freak you out…”

Bracken sighed. She was beginning to understand what happened. “No, it’s all right. I think I get it.” She mirrored the hermaphrodite’s gesture, patting a bony knee. “You’re happy here?”

“I really am.” The smile that lit up that face was something Bracken didn’t remember seeing often, and it was short-lived, sliding quickly to something like worry. “Are you?”

She glanced over at Nick, then back to her former Kept. “Happy?” It was a question she’d never really been comfortable with. “I’m learning how to be.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/534576.html. You can comment here or there.

I for Icarus Fallen

Rion prompted “I is for Icarus fallen,” and ri has a character in Addergoole named Icarus. [profile] stryck prompted “Infamous,” and thus it had to be THAT Icarus, too. Thus… this.

Icarus goes to school in Year 44. See the other Luke/Myst stories for his parents’ romance

Why Akakios had chosen to name his son Icarus, Luke had never known, and probably would never try to ask. Talking to the alpaca-boy made Luke irritable on a good day; talking to him about his son made everything… so very Mara.

Icarus. The name was infamous, the story known even now, even twenty-five years after the world had ended. “Icarus?” a stranger would say, and then ask, every time, “has he fallen?”

Ha, ha.

Luke had considered Icarus his own since he’d built the boy’s mother Mystral a house, his in parenting if not in blood. And, as with every other son he’d raised he felt it in his bones when the boy fell. Tripped and fell when he was running. Slipped out of a tree and broke his arm. Playing Superman, fell from the barn roof.

He was a boy. Boys fell. Luke reminded himself of this every time the boy came home with a new scrape, cut, bruise. Doug had fallen. Aleron had fallen all the time. Sons fell, grandsons fell; centuries ago, Luke had done his own share of falling.

None of them had been named for that tragic, fucking infamous fall.

It made Luke hover, and he hating hovering. Every time Chavva came running, “Dad! Icarus fell again!” his heart stopped. Every time he ran out to check the boy over, to pat him and Idu Tlacatl him and reassure him that it was all right, branches broke sometimes, every time, he worried it would be the last time.

It wasn’t until the boy was ready to go to Addergoole that Luke wondered if Akakios, the fluff-for-brains, had been being metaphorical.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/531946.html. You can comment here or there.

Yes, a drabble of Luke and Myst (@kissofjudas)

After Finale, Turnabout, after Finale.

Luke had been through battles. He had held his own entrails inside his body while waiting for a healer to get to him. He had sat waiting, the endless breath-holding, to hear if his nation was at war.

All of that was a heartbeat, a moment, a breath compared to waiting for Myst to answer. In his head, Mike taunted him. Keaira taunted him. Wil didn’t taunt – she never did – but she shook her head slowly, amused.

When I said ‘don’t be an idiot,’ Bird-brain, this wasn’t what I had in mind.

“Of course I will, Luca you idiot. Returned gods, I love you.”

Myst’s voice chases away all the others. She was hugging him, sobbing into his shoulder, so, slowly, sluggishly, he held her against him, patting her back. That was a yes. She’d taken the ring. She’d said Of course. He kissed the top of her head and tried for words.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He laughed, more than a little embarrassed. No need to tell her that he’d thought he’d been asking, building the house. Not right now, at least. “It was time.” he took the ring out of her hand and, as carefully as if he was defusing a bomb, slipped it on her finger. His wings were flared wide, and his heart was perfectly at peace.

Nearly perfectly. He reached out an arm to the children. “Icarus. Chavva. This is about you, too.” It would always be, forever and ever, about family.

Family. He pressed Myst close to him. It was a nice word to be thinking of again. It was a nice thing to be being, again.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/503018.html. You can comment here or there.

Finale, a drabble of Luke and Myst (@kissofjudas)

After Matters, after Mutts

The blood splattered, and the woman fell.

Luke pulled the sword out of his chest with both hands. “Idu… Kwxe.” shit. The bitch had really gotten him. But he could still feel for heat signatures. A child could have done that.

Child. The children were right there, holding their knives. Good kids.

“We’re clear. Nobody else within a mile.” He coughed, and spat out a Jasfe Tlacatl. There. His guts were back inside of him. “Myst…” he closed his mouth. “Mystral, sa’Oncoming Storm.” He dropped to one knee in the bloody grass. “I did not come home tonight to fight …ninjas.”

Don’t be a moron, Luke

Trying. The blood loss and the twitchy feeling of post-combat were not helping the situation.

“But we fight together. Like we move together.” The children were listening. He should be careful what he said. “We’re a team, Mystral. We should always be a team.” The ring was still there, in his pocket. Sapphire and diamond. He pulled it out, and offered it, in the palm of his hand. “Mystral, would you do me the immense honor of being my wife?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/499134.html. You can comment here or there.

Mutts, a drabble of Luke and Myst (@kissofjudas)

After Check, after Fire


::Luca. I’m on the ground. The slave-trader bastard that had me is dead. Tell me where you want me, and what you want me to do.::

For the briefest moment, Luke was confused, as Mike’s voice was replaced by Mystral’s. Then he smiled, a fierce snarl of an expression.

“My kids aren’t mutt’s.” He stared at a direction that was close to where the woman actually was. She was either getting careless with her voice-throwing or taunting him. “Damn you, my children are not mutts.”

“Must be hard for you.” While she gloated, Luke send Myst a mental map. ::Come in this way. Watch out for traps.:: “Your blood looks pure, with those wings. But the mutt blood shows in the children. Don’t worry.” Her voice changed position, and the tone changed to something conciliatory. “They’ll know what they are well enough when they serve us. They’ll always know. Won’t you, children?”

“Stay away from my kids!” ::Now:: He made a lot of flapping, useless rage-noises, that put him “accidentally” between the bitch and the children. It also drew her attention to him, so that Myst could make a move.

Once in a while – once in a very long while – Luke enjoyed playing stupid.

He knew when Myst was in position. He thought he would always know. “Fuck your slaving asses.” He snarled it, and stepped forward into the woman’s reach.

She had a sword. It was steel, at least. His was, too. He hoped he’d gotten in the better shot.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/497766.html. You can comment here or there.

Fire, a drabble of Luke and Myst (@kissofjudas)

After Strong Relationships, after Bloodless.

The …ninja… writhed in Mystral’s grip, mentally and physically. He fought her, struggling against the invasive Working with everything he had. Zen.

Zen. A place of quiet. A place of water.

The storm rushed through, ripping the water out of the pond, revealing his thoughts below. The camp. The quiet trade in those who would grow up to be such very good slaves. The wooden chains.

Calm. The ninja breathed. He could not kill himself, as he should, as he had been ordered to. But he could dream of the fire. Fire. Fire, and the way it touched the sky. The way his home had burned. The way the bridges behind him had burned.

The storm rushed in and blew out the fire, showing the camp, again, the fortress with its little cabins, so tidy, all in a row, with its silence. With the silence of death, although many people lived.

Fire.

Snow, and the way the children sometimes did die, in the winter, hauling wood, doing chores.

Fire!

The coffles being led to sale across the continent.

Fire? The ninja was running out of energy. He felt as if his mind might burn out.

And that would be okay. He would never survive the failure of this mission, anyway.

Fire. He remembered the fire.

~

Luke knew he was out of control, or, at the least, balancing on a knife-edge of control and rage.

Bring it on he’d shouted at the wind, and then, angrier, “Come to me, or, goddamnit, I will find you.”

No-one came. He couldn’t actually leave. He wouldn’t leave the children. But he needed to hurt someone. He needed to hear them break beneath his hands.

He muttered Working after Working, searching the surrounding area. There, there, there. There. The dead ones, the incapacitated ones. They were all as he had left them. There. And there, one, walking towards him, trying to sneak up on him.

“You will die,” he informed the air, intentionally mis-aiming his call. “For invading my home and attacking my family. You will die.”

“But you will die, too.” The voice was female, level, cool, and evil. Luke spun as if surprised to look the direction the voice came from – not where the woman was coming from. He readied his attack. Let her think him blustering and foolish. “And your children will go to the Unit. No matter what you do, foolish man.”

“What Unit?” He strode forward, just a step. Not far enough to leave the children un-protected, but far enough to make it look that way.

“My Unit.” She really thought he was a moron. “The Unit.” Now her voice was coming from yet another direction, and she was sneaking up on the kids. Luke did not smile, but inside, the fighting glee rose in him. “Your kids will do well. Then again, mutt children always do.”

Mutt. For a moment, he saw red. Control it, old son, control it… The voice inside his head was Mike’s. He’d worry about that another time. Right now, he had a bitch to capture.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/492973.html. You can comment here or there.

Bloodless, a drabble of Luke and Myst

After Thunder, after Bad Kids

Luke swooped down on the monster holding his children. He was silent, quick, and utterly merciless.

The man died quickly and bloodlessly – except for the blood Chavva had managed to draw. Luke didn’t want the children spattered in gore.

A second attacker almost ruined that resolution. The bastard jammed a shortsword between Luke’s ribs, aiming for his heart.

“Unh. Icarus, grab your sister. Do you have a knife?” He grabbed the blade with both hands and stepped back away from it. “Jasfe tlacatl, bastard in the underhill.” The boy nodded, and managed to get it out of his boot. PJ’s and boots – good boy. “Back against a wall, kids. Watch out for each other.” He moved his body to block the attacker from the kids and pushed, shoving the hilt of the blade through the bastard.

“Anyone else?” He bellowed it to the sky. He was angry, now, damnit. “Bring it on, you bastards.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/491262.html. You can comment here or there.

Bad Kids, a drabble of Luke and Mystral

After Revival, after Impasse

“Tempero Intinn, you sonofabitch.”

That’s my Myst.

The ninja froze. Slowly, he set his sword on the treehouse floor. Even more slowly, he began speaking. “Telling… you… the… goal… of… the… mission… gah… bitch… CHILDREN.”

The …ninja… sank to his knees, holding his head. Luke shared a brief glance with his wi – his mate. “I’ll go to the kids.”

“Daddy! Mommy!”

“Ow, you little shit!”

Luke swooped down from the platform in a barely-controlled dive. There, by the side door, Chavva and Icarus were fighting, like the good little warriors that they were, kicking and scratching and biting and, above all, not cooperating.

“The first thing to remember, if a stranger wants you to go somewhere, don’t be a good kid.” They hadn’t been the first children Luke had taught that lesson to, but the world was a dark place, and he had made sure to drill it in. Play -abductions, where they got to kick and fight against Dad, had driven the lesson home. “You’re a good kid for your Mom, for your Dad, for your family. Be a good kid for your teachers. But never, ever be a good kid for someone trying to take you somewhere. Be the baddest, most mis-behaved child you can manage.”

Chavva was biting now, good girl, going for the jugular, while her brother was using a small weapon that he must have had stashed in his pajama pants.

Luke felt a surge of paternal pride, never mind that Icarus wasn’t, technically his son.

And then he attacked.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/487508.html. You can comment here or there.