Tag Archive | character: autumn

Tangles and Knots

Feb12

This is to kelkyag‘s prompt here to my February Giraffe Call.

It takes part in my Stranded World setting, after all extant Tattercoat stories.

Names from <a href="http://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php?Genname=superheronameorg
“>Seventh Sanctum.

There was something amiss with Winter’s sister.

With the oldest of Winter’s sisters and the most steady, the most easy-going, the least likely to have things go amiss.

Spring had warned him first, in that way that she did, a riddle tied up in a knot, the sonnets are slanting sideways and the seeds are falling all wrong. Then Summer, just something’s wrong with Autumn.

When their mother had called Winter, do something, he had known things had gotten out of hand. But because it was not he who had seen the problem first but Spring, he went out of character for himself and did things indirectly, looking not for the tangle but for its cause.

He had been young and cocky when he’d taught Spring; it hadn’t occurred to him until much later how much she had taught him.

There were tangles in Autumn’s skein, that much was clear. Knots, and, worse, fraying and snipped ends. But why? She’d always been so ready to flow with the world’s streams, so quick to twine with others and so very slow to actually tie any lasting connections.

Winter spied. He followed lines back from his sister without ever letting her see his presence, he murmured questions at the right people, he followed paperwork trails where they existed. He studied.

When he had a path to walk, he began walking. Literally, in this case: the cause of the snarls was only a few miles away, just a short trip from the Ren Faire where Autumn had set up shop.

Did she know? From the way her lines tangled, Winter doubted it. There was loss and pain in her mess, not immediate intimacy.

Winter made it to the house, or at least the dwelling – three trailers and an old recreational vehicle set up in a square around a loose courtyard, plenty for the mild spring weather – before something stopped him in his tracks.

His sisters and mother had said one word, and, while others had used other names, they had all led back to the same person. Tattercoat.

There were seven people in the compound, and a complex of tangled Strands and intentional knots that spoke of intentional weaving.

Untangling Knots

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/665445.html. You can comment here or there.

Stranded in Winter, a story of Stranded World (ha) for the Giraffe Call

Feb10

This is to [personal profile] moonwolf‘s prompt here to my February Giraffe Call, with a side order of [personal profile] librarygeek‘s prompt here

Warning: cliffhanger.

Autumn (and Winter, et al) are from Stranded World.

Winter – the season, not her brother – left Autumn stuck in one place, this year not just in a single town, the way she often spent the colder times, but stuck in the town’s tiny inn, the snow actually pressing the doors shut.

She’d spent the first day sitting in the tavern down stairs, drawing, playing online when the spotty wi-fi was working, and working on her very messy accounting. The second day she’d spent half hiding in her room, and the other half helping the also-stuck cook-and-owner clean the kitchen top to bottom. The third day, when it was clear that the snow really wasn’t going to let up, they’d both crawled out a second-story window, jumped off the porch, and started shoveling their way down to the ground.

When they’d gotten the door clear and most of the inn’s sidewalk, and after they’d taken a break for cider and cheese, they dug across the street to the Library. The Librarian, eighty years old if she was a day, had been subsisting on biscuits and tea. She was so grateful for the rescue that she let Autumn check out whatever she wanted, on the theory that it wasn’t going to go anywhere anyway.

The inn-cook, no older than Autumn, had said, over and over again, that this was the worst winter he could remember. When the Librarian said it, too, it pricked Autumn’s curiosity.

She read ancient newspapers while munching on onions rings and chicken wings, helped the inn-cook shovel to the grocery and then to the grocer’s house, read until she fell asleep, and read over breakfast. When she and the inn-cook had re-cleared paths that had gotten a foot of snow overnight, she headed up to the highest place she could reach – the Library’s cupola – and started looking. Looking.

She drew the patterns she wanted on her arms: the weather, which was generally mild, with inches, not feet, falling at once. The people, who were generally stoic and tended not to leave town much (except Autumn, and others like her, who came and went with the seasons). The anomaly, snow past her hips and still falling.

And when she was done, her arms and chest bare to the frigid air and covered in snowflake patterns, she opened her sight to the Strands.

And fell down, nearly blinded. “Oh.“

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/663858.html. You can comment here or there.

Stranded in Winter

Feb10

This is to [personal profile] moonwolf‘s prompt here to my February Giraffe Call, with a side order of [personal profile] librarygeek‘s prompt here

Warning: cliffhanger.

Autumn (and Winter, et al) are from Stranded World.

Winter – the season, not her brother – left Autumn stuck in one place, this year not just in a single town, the way she often spent the colder times, but stuck in the town’s tiny inn, the snow actually pressing the doors shut.

She’d spent the first day sitting in the tavern down stairs, drawing, playing online when the spotty wi-fi was working, and working on her very messy accounting. The second day she’d spent half hiding in her room, and the other half helping the also-stuck cook-and-owner clean the kitchen top to bottom. The third day, when it was clear that the snow really wasn’t going to let up, they’d both crawled out a second-story window, jumped off the porch, and started shoveling their way down to the ground.

When they’d gotten the door clear and most of the inn’s sidewalk, and after they’d taken a break for cider and cheese, they dug across the street to the Library. The Librarian, eighty years old if she was a day, had been subsisting on biscuits and tea. She was so grateful for the rescue that she let Autumn check out whatever she wanted, on the theory that it wasn’t going to go anywhere anyway.

The inn-cook, no older than Autumn, had said, over and over again, that this was the worst winter he could remember. When the Librarian said it, too, it pricked Autumn’s curiosity.

She read ancient newspapers while munching on onions rings and chicken wings, helped the inn-cook shovel to the grocery and then to the grocer’s house, read until she fell asleep, and read over breakfast. When she and the inn-cook had re-cleared paths that had gotten a foot of snow overnight, she headed up to the highest place she could reach – the Library’s cupola – and started looking. Looking.

She drew the patterns she wanted on her arms: the weather, which was generally mild, with inches, not feet, falling at once. The people, who were generally stoic and tended not to leave town much (except Autumn, and others like her, who came and went with the seasons). The anomaly, snow past her hips and still falling.

And when she was done, her arms and chest bare to the frigid air and covered in snowflake patterns, she opened her sight to the Strands.

And fell down, nearly blinded. “Oh.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/663858.html. You can comment here or there.

A Favorite Place, a story of Stranded World for the Giraffe Bingo Card Call

Jan5

To [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt to my Orig_fic Bingo card; this fills the “Favorite Place” square.


Autumn and Summer (and Bishop and Melinda) are characters in my Stranded World setting; this story is later in their lives than most of the stories.

“Let me show you this place.”

Summer watched her sister. She had been watching her sister much of her life, it seemed; the way she moved, the way she smiled, the way she seemed to dance through life without a care. She watched the way Autumn smiled with her mouth without smiling with her body; she watched the way she flirted shamelessly and almost never carried through, and the way, when she carried through, it was a dance of the body, without the heart.

Summer had been watching Autumn and Winter forever, picking and choosing what parts she wanted to emulate, and then parts she wanted to throw away (On some level, she knew that Spring did the same with all three of them, though with Spring it looked as if she was throwing away everything, just to confuse and confound them all).

This year, she was spending the summer, or at least part of it, with her sister and her own lovers, which lent a certain color-commentary feel to the whole art of watching Autumn.

“Is she…” Bishop whispered it in Summer’s ear, which cause Mellie to squirm closer on the other side.

“Hssst. Wait and see.” Summer adjusted her bodice – this silly Ren stuff Autumn insisted on; maybe this year she’d splurge on one that fit properly. Two, one for her and Mellie would look lovely in a wench dress, maybe…

“A place?” The man had been hanging around Autumn’s booth for the entire weekend; he’d wander away to hang out with his friends and slowly gravitate back to admire the art, to admire Autumn’s ink, to admire Autumn herself when she wasn’t looking. “But your booth?”

“Well.” Autumn’s breath hitched, the cut of her vest making it obvious. “You could always come back after the Faire closed. It’s prettier by moonlight, after all.”

“Mmmmm, look at the way he watches her.” Mellie was nearly purring. “Good thing we brought our own tent.”

Summer was smiling, but inside she was cheering, albeit a bit nervously. In all the years she had been coming to this Faire with her sister, never had she known Autumn to show a lover – or anyone but kin, actually – her favorite place.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/629191.html. You can comment here or there.

Freedom, Orig-Fic, Stranded World

Dec18

To Rix_Scaedu‘s prompt to my orig-fic card. This fills the “freedom” slot.


Autumn and Winter are characters in my Stranded World setting; this story is earlier in their lives than most of the stories.

“It’s about Freedom.” Autumn sat on the edge of the bridge, feet dangling over the edge, not so much looking at the water as looking at the reflections in it. Hers, wild-colored and wild-haired, and his, cool-hued and smooth-tressed. Even here, even ‘dressed down,’ he looked proper.

“Of course it is about freedom. Everything in life is.” Winter spoke in measured tones, careful tones.

“How can you say that?” She twisted to look at in properly now, him, the connections between them, the lines around his life. “When you are so tied up in strands, so smoothed-out and constrained?”

“How can you say you are free?” His voice was, of course, calm. “When you do not know where your next meal will come from, when you are uncertain where you will sleep at night, when you have no home?”

“This is the life I chose.” Autumn tried not to raise her voice too much. He was her brother. He was her big brother; he would always be her big brother.

“And this is the life I chose, Autumn.” He patted her shoulder. “You find your freedom on the open road, and I… find mine in an office. Are we not both free?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/618700.html. You can comment here or there.

Mud Fight, a continuation of Stranded World for the March Giraffe Call

Apr16

To [personal profile] inventrix‘s commissioned continuation of Ax Fight, and following directly on after it.

“Duck!”

Autumn’s duck turned into a slide across the mud. The Grey One’s crouch turned into a tumble. The ax flew. The audience cheered.

They slid across the mud until they were nearly touching, their wooden weapons locked against each other.

“Show, go on, yadda, yadda.” The Grey One whispered it under the cheers.

“Yep.” Autumn hopped to her feet, her ax held in a guard position. “Avast! What scallywag intrudes on our fair duel?”

Somewhere in the crowd, someone complained about pirate talk. Autumn ignored him. She wasn’t even getting paid for this.

“Indeed! Come forth, you villain, that we might see your face before we smash it in!”

The crowed made a low ooooo noise. They liked The Grey One. Possibly because of his killer biceps under the thin shirt.

“Art thou to cowardly to come forth?” Autumn shook her ax. Something, something, there had to be something in the strands. Somewhere. She reached out with her free hand, making it look like a dramatic gesture. “It is the most cowardly of things, to fight from-“

She was expecting it this time, and made a smooth dive of her duck. A second ax embedded itself in the wood next to the first.

“Grey,” she muttered, tilting her head that way. He nodded, and walked casually behind her. She pitched her voice to carry. “Back up, folks, if you would, a performance such as this requires air. The first three rows may get bloody; we have leeches on staff if there be a problem.”

Grey yanked the axes out of the wood, and handed one to her. They twirled their new weapons, getting a feel for them, the heavier weight, the much more deadly edges.

Autumn let Grey take lead. Somewhere out there, someone was doing something. Someone was attacking them. “Come, thou coward! What say thee? Why would you hide such skill, such grace with a weapon?”

“Art thou besotted with his throwing with never having seen his face?” The Grey One moved forward, stalking their invisible prey.

“Besotted? Nay. I simply wish to thank him for the fine blade. And it may be a she, thou knowest!”

The strands were always twisted at a Ren Faire. People cared, deeply, and those people laid thick lines on the earth. Other people came and went, leaving thin lines, quickly fading. Someone throwing weapons into a crowd… “Oh bless us with a hammer.”

“Mmm?” Grey asked the one sotto voce and then threw out a bellow of laughter to cover it. “A woman? Nay, for there cannot be more than one as wild as thou and as sharp, not in all the land.”

“You flatter me, Grey One. Surely a woman could – duck!” They ducked and rolled in sync, coming up near each other on the other side of the clearing. “You know tanglers?” she hissed. “A woman could sow chaos as well as any man!” Her voice went back up for the challenge.

“If it is chaos we’re looking for -” They both looked, dramatically, at the hammer, a Mjölnir replica, sitting next to Autumn’s booth. “-well, then, a woman I’m sure it could be!”

“A woman,” Autumn taunted, “or a man lost in the liquor.” Someone was trying to create havoc. Terror, perhaps? As benign as her sister was, Autumn knew that was not always the case with tanglers.

The Grey One was doing something complicated with his off hand. Autumn kept up her banter to pull the attention away from him. “For as we all know, the men of the species are more messy than the female!”

Some of the crowd booed. Some cheered. But they were still listening. Still watching. Autumn shifted her feet, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to get solid footing in this muck.

“Aye!” The Grey One had finished his twisting; she could see the way an errant set of strands trailed out from his hand, now, like a flail, a magical cat o’ nine tails. “Aye, the male is messier, certainly.” He scooped up mud with his ax and flung it over Autumn – spraying some of the crowd with the splatter. “Thou’rt as clean and shiny as a fresh-minted coin, aren’t thou?”

“Why, you, you…” Autumn scooped deep with her ax and splashed muck up, intentionally missing Grey with most of it. If she aimed correctly – there. “And down! Thou varlet!” They ducked in time as a long spear came flying at them; they ducked, Autumn turned it into a roll and dive, and Grey threw his strand-handful: not a flail, but a bolo.

Their hidden attacker went down, suddenly visible and very much tied up. Autumn landed on him, pinning him shoulders-and-knees. “And I’ve caught thee, vandal!”

The cheers of the audience were deafening, and they only served to strengthen the ties around their captive. Autumn sat back on her heels and bowed from that position, grinning from ear to ear.

It ought to rain at the Ren Faire more often.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/512725.html. You can comment here or there.

Ax Fight, a story of Stranded World/Autumn for the Giraffe Call (@anke)

Apr1

For [personal profile] anke‘s prompt.

“Have at thee, varlet!”

“Nay, I’ll have at thee, wench!”

Autumn and a man she knew only as The Grey One swung their wooden axes at each other, thunking and clanging in true stage-fighting fashion while they splashed up mud everywhere. A light mist was enough, after a few minutes outside, to plaster clothing to skin; Autumn and The Grey One were dripping.

“I did not know this was to be a wet-blouson contest,” The Grey One jeered. “If you’ll hold for a moment, I’ll even those odds as well.”

“I’ll hold.” Autumn stepped to the edge of the ring. “If only to see thee in thy skivvies.”

There were very few people at the Faire today, mostly die-hards and a few long-distance travelers who had not planned on rain when they booked their flights. Many of them made a loose circle around Autumn and The Grey One as they bantered; now they were whooping and hooting as Grey took off his grey jacket and grey doublet.

He did look dashing, Autumn had to admit, his linens plastered to his chest.

“Alas, I fear I shall not be able to match you on this field, or the Sherrif may lock me up.” Her bodice was keeping her in place. Barely. “And now the crowd dost truly love… duck!”

She couldn’t explain what it was she saw; it wasn’t a crisp image of the strands or even a drawing-overlay. She was not that connected to the Grey Knight (she thought). But nevertheless, she had enough warning that he and she both ducked.

The flying axe imbedded itself in Autumn’s booth, carrying with it a hank of her hair and three splinters from The Grey One’s ax. Someone had brought an ax to an ax fight.

Next: Mud Fight http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/512725.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/503493.html. You can comment here or there.

Excerpt 2 tonight: from _The Deep Inks_ (@kissofjudas)

Jun28

The Deep Inks is/was my November 2011 Nano novel. I got to 50K…

This is a story of Stranded world, Autumn. The landing page is here – http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/23315.html

Even with his hands broken, he was still trying to yank strands. Autumn could see the way he was pulling, reaching. Not trying to commit suicide. No, he was stalling. “Buddies coming?”

“I’m not the only one who understands. And Alex isn’t the only one with the cleansing gift.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/360648.html. You can comment here or there.

Love Meme Answers 6: Jin/Jimmy, Autumn/Winter

Apr10

For the meme I posted Wednesday night here and here (feel free to leave pairings now if you want; I’m having fun.

Jin waited patiently for Jimmy to come back to earth with Juniper. Of all the monsters in the world, Jimmy was probably the only one he could trust, completely, with his kid sister. Jimmy was probably the only one he thought of as a sibling.

The Smiths moving in next to them had been one of the best moments in Jin’s life. For the first time since he started thinking of his parents as separate people from himself, he had someone he trusted to watch his back, and, maybe more importantly, someone who trusted him to do the same

“Got me?”

“I have you.”

Autumn reached for the strands, feeling the twists and the knot where everything was going crazy. The knots were dangerous, the sort of chaos that could pull you in and twist your own lines all up, making as much a mess of you as this tangle of forest was becoming.

But with Winter holding her hand, Autumn didn’t have to worry. Not once had he ever let her fall. Not once in her life had his strength and order failed her.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/320178.html. You can comment here or there.

Love Meme Answers 2: Autumm/Weylan, Audrey/Sage, Taro/Kailani

Apr5

For the meme I posted last night here and here

Autumn loved Weylan the way she’d never loved a guy trying to sleep with her.

Not just because she could relax around him, because there was none of the aggression of me-you-fuck-now or the competition she sometimes got with women. Not just because he told great jokes on the road, or because he’d saved her life more than once.

Not just because he was so clearly and utterly devoted to his family and still able to make room for friends.

But because, on top of all that, unlike the men she slept with, he seemed like an actually nice guy.

The night was dark as a coal cellar, and the power had gone out. Aud woke first, to the quite, panicked beeping of their electronics bereft of their lifeline, to the sleepy grumbles of their youngest, who could not sleep without his lullaby recording.

Sage woke moments later, lifting their son in his arms, and singing to him, a soft chanting that would have, in other circumstances, perhaps sounded ominous. But to Aud and to the sleepy boy, it sounded like heaven.

First week of Year 5:
“She’s gorgeous,” Taro told Conrad, who had heard it all already at least a hundred times. “Those eyes. Those legs. That hair. Gods, Con, I’ve got to have her.”

Second week of November, Year 5:
“She’s always questioning everything,” he muttered to Vlad, who didn’t really want to be listening. “And her kisses are like liquid gold. Was I really that much of an idiot? Did I really..?”

“You did. You were. Love the one you’re with, man.”

Last week of February, Year 5:
“She’s gorgeous,” Mea murmured, gesturing at Kai in her bridesmaid’s getup. “I can see why you’re in love with her.”

“I’m…”

“Honey, I’m cy’Linden. Love where you will, as long as you love me too.”

“I…”

Her kiss shut him up before he could come up with an answer that didn’t make him an idiot again.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/316181.html. You can comment here or there.