Tag Archive | character: cynara

Class is in Session, a story of Cya/Doomsday

Dec29

after [personal profile] inventrix‘s Let’s Pretend, which is after my A Change in Routine.

When Leo walked into Cya’s front yard carrying her Kept over his shoulder, she found that she wasn’t surprised, and that she was more than a little relieved.

It wouldn’t be enough, of course. Apollo was the most stubborn, ridiculous, arrogant man she had had the misfortune to deal with…

…since Leo and Howard were that age, a thought she was doing her best to suppress, especially considering how Leo’s fierce smile vanished when he caught her looking at him.

He set her Kept down on her porch as Cya opened her door and deftly avoided the angry punch Apollo attempted to throw.

“I see you’ve met Professor Inazuma. Come in.” She made it an invitation for Leo and an order for Apollo. “Leo, I see you’ve met my new Kept. I hope he wasn’t too difficult.”

“He wasn’t difficult at all!” Leo was having fun, a smile flashing onto his face before he remembered he was supposed to be feeling bad. “Ah, we got in a bit of a fight…”

“You kicked his ass, you mean.” She watched Apollo’s face; she didn’t need to watch Leo’s to know what was going across it. He’d be hang-dog for a moment, and then proud of himself again.

Apollo was warring with something simpler: pride and fear. He’d noticed, then, how much stronger, how much more skilled than him Leo was. Good. “Are you just going to let him manhandle your Kept like that?” He spat out the word Kept. He always did. But the end of the sentence was more like a plea. “Or–“

“We were playing a bit of Let’s Pretend.” The pride was clear in Leo’s voice, and the anger and fear were sparking in Apollo’s face again.

“You were playing! I was–“

“You were saying you could handle yourself.” She could hear the sharp smile in Leo’s voice. “If I’d been a slaver, you’d be in chains by now.”

It was hardly a fair challenge. They had great-grandchildren older than this boy.

Slavers wouldn’t be fair, either.

“Leo was cy’Luca, too, Apollo, back when we were kids. A lot of kids have been, through the years, if you do the math.” She kept her eyes on him. “One or two in every Cohort… One or two cy’Fridmar, too, and they’re just as vicious in a fight, more likely to cheat, and more likely to turn evil. Never mind the cy’Sakamoto; nobody knows which way they’ll go. And most of the cy’Doug would rather kill you than look at you.”

“I get it!” He flung his arms upward violently. “Yeah, sure, there’s lots of assholes out there. But I’m good, okay? This jackass got the jump on me, that’s all.”

He didn’t believe it, or Cya would have been more harsh with him. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and waited for the moment where he shifted from foot to foot and dropped his arms and his gaze.

She glanced back at Leo, wondering if he remembered when he was that young and stupid. Time enough for that conversation later.

“By the time I’m done with you, it will be a lot harder for anyone to get the drop on you. And step one is realizing that somebody can and will.”

And, because he was her Kept and this one, damnit, she could protect, she kept going. “In the meantime, this is my city. If anyone other than Leo here attacks you, you tell them that you Belong to me. If that doesn’t stop them, you can feel free to tell anyone who can hear you that you’re mine. For this year, at least, that ought to keep you safe.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1033777.html. You can comment here or there.

Walls, a response storylet

Aug24

Started in [personal profile] inventrix‘s DW here (and the comments)

Then here.

Now, below.

Cya left Leo’s house slowly. She walked out of the yard as if she was still, somehow, thinking he’d say “no, wait, come back.” She walked down the road, ignoring people, ignoring animals, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head that was always suggesting improvements to the city.

He sticks around because he’s crazy. THAT voice had always been there, even when it was pretty obvious Leo wasn’t so much sticking around as being tethered by ill-thought-out promises and Cya’s habit of Finding him whenever he got too far off. He sticks around because he’s tethered.

If his insanity was changing, evolving, would there still be room for the Protagonist’s Friends?

She walked to the wall around her city and climbed the ladder. It was her city; nobody was going to tell her not to be there.

“You built a real city,” he’d said. She chewed it over. Yes, yes she had. It wasn’t New York City or even Chicago or Milwaukee, but it was a city. She’d set out to make one, and she had.

“We aren’t teenagers anymore.” It was hard to argue with that, either. After all, they had grand-children who were past the teenaged years.

That was where something had gone wrong. Then he’d asked if something was wrong with him. Then he’d asked if he was insane.

She stared out at the mountains beyond her city, and the road snaking its way past Cloverleaf. She looked inwards, at the growing city she’d wrought. It would hold, she thought, even if she didn’t. It could grow now, with or without her.

Leo… Leo wasn’t exactly predictable, but he, Howard, Zita, even Gaheris, Mags, they’d always had a set of behaviours they could be trusted to act within. Cya too, of course; Cya was The Calm One.

Which explained entirely why she was crying. She bit her lip and raised her chin. Nobody would ask why the mayor of the city was sobbing on the walls, but it wasn’t particularly great for morale, either. The Mayor made things go, just like Cya always had. She didn’t bawl her eyes out.

She certainly didn’t bawl her eyes out over her friend the insane samurai. And absolutely not because he might not be insane anymore.

The drop from the walls was a long one, too long to make safely, but making the earth soft and bouncy was an old trick by now. Cya slid down to the ground and let the soft space between inner and outer walls cradle her. Nobody would see her breaking script here. Nobody would be worried by her crying.

Leo… Leo was changing.

“How bad…” It had been bad, sometimes. It had been awful sometimes. But selfishly, Cya had not minded as much as she should, because it let her be useful. It let her be needed.

“It’s nice.” And she’d done what she always did and given him what he might possibly at some point need. She’d built him a house with her own hands and Workings. She’d stocked it with food in case he visited. She’d done a bigger version of packing him a go-bag. And, sane, or becoming sane, or differently insane, whatever was going on with him — whatever she’d triggered in him — Leo had cared about as much as her angrier Kept had cared about their go-bags.

She stared blankly at the walls of her city. What in hell was she supposed to do next?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/975867.html. You can comment here or there.

Cya talks to her Father (again)

Aug1

After the series of letters [here] and a visit to Cya’s son Vidrou, Enion (Cya’s father) attempts to make amends with his daughter via letter. Eventually he succeeds well enough that she decides to try talking to him one more time.

She packed a bag.

She didn’t need to; she was teleporting to the area, and returning, she assumed, within a few hours.

But there was a certain feeling of parallel that she couldn’t ignore, and so Cya packed a go-bag. Clothes, easy to hand-wash and line-dry. Medical supplies. Two days’ food. A source of fire, an emergency blanket… pencils and a notepad.

On a day over a hundred years ago, she had packed a very similar bag. She’d done so countless times since, for herself, for children and grandchildren and great-great-great-great grandchildren, Kept and students and friends.

But in September of 2000, she’d packed a bag, and her father had sent her away to Addergoole.

She’d given him a year to stew — a year after she decided he might actually be capable of change, three years since he’d visited her son and his wife, more than that since she’d sought him out and realized that the father she’d remembered was every bit as self-centered and not nearly as impressive as she’d remembered. It had been a good year, full of growth for her burgeoning empire and bright improvements in her Academy and her University.

She almost hated to ruin it by visiting him.

But, on the other hand, if she didn’t track him down soon, he might bother another of her children — possibly one of the less-sweet-tempered ones. Certainly one of the less sweet-tempered ones, since of all her children, Viddie had always been the most mild. (What that said, then, about the fact that Viddie had been angry after dealing with her father…)

“Let’s go.” She held out her hand. Wischard — her teleporter this decade — set his hand in hers and they both closed their eyes.

There was a bit of a twist – Wischard was rather new, and not used to homing in on her Finding yet — and then they opened their eyes to a shabby-looking inn.

Cya recognized the area. It was maybe a five-day trip from Cloverleaf, a district she had visited but not had much luck bringing into the fold: a hive of scum and villainy, creeps and thieves. It, she thought, likely suited her father quite well.

“One hour,” she told Wischard. “Thank you.”

“You sure? I don’t mind sticking around, in case…”

Wischard was only three years out of Addergoole. She could guess many of the in cases that he could be thinking of.

She had great-great-great grandchildren his age, although she was almost entirely certain that he wasn’t one of them. She was fairly certain she could handle most in cases.

“I’ll be all right, Wischard. He’s my father. That eliminates at least one sub-set of danger.”

“You’re the boss.” He didn’t look too reassured. She didn’t fault him, knowing what she knew — about both Wischard’s father and her own. “One hour.”

She had a feeling that, while he might be popping away now, he’d be within screaming range for the next hour. That was fine; she hadn’t brought Leo because she wanted a chance of her father talking to her, but she didn’t mind the back-up. She was not on her home territory right now; she was on very shaky ground indeed.

She walked into the bar as if she owned the place anyway, her chin up, her shoulders back, her stride a swagger as if she was armed with grenade launchers.

The conversation stopped, paused at least. She was — to all appearances — a beautiful woman in her twenties, clean and well-dressed. That sort of person wasn’t very common here, not if they weren’t selling themselves.

She walked past all of them as if they didn’t exist. She wasn’t here for the grifters, the drifters, the bandits, the thieves. She wasn’t here for the scroungers, the bullies, the hunters, the veterans.

“Doomsday,” someone whispered. Cya smiled. “Doomsday,” someone said, louder this time. She smiled more widely. Soon they were all saying it. Soon they were all getting out of her way.

Everyone but him. He looked at her. She looked back at him. She found she was grinning. She found he was looking a little bit worried. She raised her eyebrows at him. “Dad.”

The bar was silent again, a heartbeat, another heartbeat. Then he said, carefully, as if was balancing on a knifeblade, “sa’Red Doomsday.”

She pulled up a stool and perched, her smile relaxing into something that felt more comfortable. Someone cleared his throat. Someone else ordered a drink. Slowly, the sound of the bar returned.

“Are you here to kill me?” His shoulders were tense, and she could tell he was double-checking all his exits. He’d taught her that. Always have an exit strategy. “Your son, he seemed to think you’d want the honor yourself.”

“Viddie wasn’t wrong.” She let him sweat a moment. “But I’m not here to kill you. Your letters — they got me thinking.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward a little, then seemed to realize he was doing it and straightened up. “I’ve been thinking, too.”

“Don’t strain anything.” She smirked faintly, then wiped her hand across the space in between them. “That wasn’t kind, I apologize. It’s clear you’ve been thinking. Viddie said he… well, what Vid said was that he thought there were things you hadn’t considered before.”

“That is — yes. I imagine they make me a bad father. No.” He took a long swig of the rotgut he’d been drinking. “I was a bad father. But-“

Cynara held up her hand. “I’m not here because you were a bad father, or to let you fix that, make up for it. No.” She paused, gathering her thoughts and letting him stew. “I’m here because that doesn’t matter at all anymore.”

He rocked back a little. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again to take a drink. “What do you mean?”

“You were a bad father in, what, 2000? 2002?” She twitched her shoulders. “It’s too late to even be a decent grandfather for most of my kids. There’s no chance for you to be a father for me anymore.”

“I’m still your father.”

She smirked faintly. “It is still a truth that your seed helped create the child I was. It is still truth that you named that child and raised her to the age of sixteen.” She needed her own drink. She flagged down the bartender & paid him with a bill bearing her own face. “That’s it.”

His chin went up. She recognized the expression. Sometimes, she still saw it in the mirror. “I’m your father.”

“Enion, Loophole, I don’t need a father right now. I haven’t needed a father in quite a while.” It felt both wrong and good to say. “And it shouldn’t bother you that much.” She was a bit bitter, still, she had to admit. “You didn’t need a daughter for a hundred years.”

He finished his drink and flagged the bartender down for another one. “Then why are you here?”

“The same reason as last time.” She twitched her shoulders. “I give people — certain people — too many chances, at least according to Leo. So. I want to see if you can see me. Because…” She finished her drink. “Because you matter, dead gods curse you.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/965269.html. You can comment here or there.

An Educational Visit, Part VI- The End

Jul27

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s and Kuro-Neko’s request/commission after I Should Visit, Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V; 2500 words

“…you might consider, in due time, why some people’s children seem to know so much more, coming to Addergoole, than others’.”

Regine watched the woman walk down the stairs, her mink tail bobbing. She watched her open the back door and head out into the back yard, where Feu Drake was telling the toddler some convoluted story.

It was a question she had not given too much thought, she was forced to admit, if only to herself. Some students came in with basic or no educational background; some came in nearly college-educated. Some knew what a Kept was, what a promise was, what hawthorn was. Some learned those things the hard was during the course of their time at Addergoole.

It did make it harder to shock them into Changing, but the tight, Ellehemaei-full environment did what surprise did not.

She realized Cynara was looking at her. She could ask, of course. She raised her eyebrows; that often sufficed.

Cynara smiled back at her, a small thing and enigmatic. “I’ll tell you the half I don’t think even you will think to forbid. The rest you’ll have to figure out for yourself, I’m afraid. I won’t do future generations that disservice.”

Regine coughed politely. “You would say that the oaths are a disservice?”

“To keep our children intentionally in the dark about any part of their heritage? To set them up to be targets to predators like Tethys, like Alika, like Delaney?“

Regine noted the names she chose with interest. The Keepers of her son and her grandson, that made sense. But – “Not Eriko?”

“Eriko is a childish, spiteful, blind person.” Cynara listed the words as if she was passing sentence. Regine was suddenly struck by a recollection of a young Sigruko speaking of her “Aunt Cya.” “But she is not a predator. As I was saying – yes. Yes, the oaths are a disservice, especially to those without the wherewithal to get around them. And as for how – we make friends, Director, simple as that – something you instilled in us, if we didn’t come with the skill. We make friends.” Her smile was suddenly very bright. “Someday, perhaps, I’ll introduce you to Bambi the Impaler, speaking of friends.”

Regine found herself raising her eyebrows yet again. “That sounds… not so friendly.”

“It’s a long story, like all of the best stories are. Now, where were we?”

“I think it’s best we were leaving.” Regine had been given a number of things to think about. She wanted to retreat to the quiet of her office to consider them all in the proper context.

“Oh, but you haven’t seen the dojo yet!” It was very hard to tell with Cynara, but Regine thought it possible that the woman was sincere. “It’s not going to be a complete tour without that.”

“Perhaps another time,” Regine murmured. She doubted she would return here for many years, but it was the polite excuse.

“I would quite like to see this dojo. Sa’Hunting Hawk has spoken very well of it.”

Once again, Feu Drake foiled her. Regine wondered, in some irritation, why she had hired him after all.

“Well, then, I suppose go we shall,” Regine allowed with poor grace.

“Oh, good.” She was either a supremely good actress – which Regine would not put past her – or Cynara was genuinely relieved. “I’m sure Inuzama will be glad to see you. This way. Upsie, Kovi, that’s a boy.” She swung the boy up onto her hip and led through the back yard of her cy’ree house. Watching her tail sway again, the little blonde child riding happily on her hip, Regine was struck with an unfamiliar thought. She was watching a stranger, a woman entirely at home in her own skin and entirely a cypher to Regine.

“Have you visited here before?” She pitched her question quietly, for Feu Drake alone, but was not naive enough to believe she would not be overheard.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh, no, I haven’t been to Cloverleaf since it was nothing but a couple of walls and three houses. But Cya and I have kept in touch over the years. She writes letters,” he explained, and then, with a little smirk, continued. “Of course, she sends them via teleporter, but that should surprise no-one.”

It struck Regine, finally, what sounded wrong about his discussions of his former student. “You’re not fond of informality. As a matter of fact, I believe you said this situation called for formality.”

“And so it does. We are guests in another Ellehemaei’s territory. Why would you – ah.” The surprised realization had to be feigned. “Perhaps you speak of me referring to jae’Doomsday as ‘Cya.’“

“It’s a nickname. I’ve never heard you use a nickname before.”

“No.” Cynara’s voice came from in front of them; she didn’t bother turning around. “You were there at my naming ceremony, the graduation, sa’Lady of the Lake.”

“I attend very many naming ceremonies. Seventy-five or so since yours. But I certainly would not forget your Name; not with it being so explosive.”

Cynara and Feu Drake laughed as if they were sharing a joke – and, it seemed, they were. Cynara turned this time, smiling. “Sa’Hunting Hawk said much the same thing. I think our crew name just causes everyone to think everything we do is explosive. Bulldozer. Lightning Blade. …Taste the Rainbow. Red Doomsday. My Name isn’t about explosions, Director.” She shifted her child on her hip in a way that somehow drew one’s eyes directly to his puckish face. “It’s about preparations. And what we’re discussing isn’t my Name – it’s just that trick Professor Drake pulled with my given name.”

“Names connect a child to their father. Given some of the…” Feu Drake looked at a loss for a moment, a situation Regine had seen only a few times in all the years she had known him. “Some of the issues surrounding this particular father – Cya’s, that is–”

“There are issues surrounding him?” Regine found her eyebrows shooting up.

“As several of my students were once fond of saying, ‘volumes.’ The issues around Enion Dayton are too many to list out here, but let us simply say that I thought it best to provide a bit of distance. I believe it’s worked.”

“Haven’t heard from him in decades.” Cynara sounded particularly cheerful. Regine was finding herself just a little bit lost.

“I don’t see what that has to do with…” It hit her. “Ah. You gave her a Name and, at the same time, you changed her name. From Cynara to Cya.”

“Exactly.” Drake smiled, looking far too pleased with himself. Regine found she could not fault him for that.

“Very interesting. I should ask Ambrus how that has worked for him throughout the years.”

“Oh, is he still with you? How interesting.” Cynara gestured across the green. “Here we are. The dojo.”

Like all the other buildings here, the dojo gave the appearance of being a suburban house. This one had a bit more of Japan in the lines and the color choices, but it was, after all, called the dojo and the domain of one professor Inazuma. Regine expected no less.

“There are going to be children underfoot, of course. There are always children here.” Cynara’s – Cya’s – smile was quite wide and pleased with herself. “Mind your step and stay off the mats, and you should be fine.”

Inside, a classroom of pre-teens were going through some basic kata. Cya set down her son; he made a quick bow to the mat and hurried around the class towards the instructor.

Regine brought her gaze away from a small gathering of children with the Aelfgar familiar features to look at this Professor Inazuma.

She had to look twice. Many of Aelfgar’s descendants bore a resemblance – but this one was rather distinctive in many ways. The scar on his left cheek was new, however.

“Daddy!” The child ran up to Inzauma – Leofric, no matter what he was calling himself, that was Leofric Lightning-Blade – and held his arms up. Laughing, Leofric scooped the boy up into a hug.

Regine realized she was staring. More, she realized Cya was watching her and smiling.

“Mags – Professor Sweetflower – is fascinated by them. Viddie and Mai and Kovi, I mean. And then Tilden and Sweetbriar and Tangle. I imagine you have some children like that at Addergoole, too?”

Regine nodded, not truly paying attention to her answer. Three children, over something like sixty years, from the same two parents. She had read theories…

…and Cya was suggesting that Ce’Rilla and Viðrou also had three? Regine’s fingers were itching to study that data.

She smiled, instead. “So this is the dojo.”

“And Professor Inazuma.”

Leofric was making his way over to them, somewhat hampered by his son attempting to wrap around both of Leo’s legs. “I see.”

Cya was smiling. “It’s not as if, say ‘Mike VanderLinden’ is the Professor’s original name. Or ‘Laurel Valerian?’ Feu Drake? Some of our teachers took on pseudonyms.”

“Professor Aegislaw,” Professor Drake offered.

“Him, too. Kheper,” she explained for Regine’s benefit. “They’ve seen the dorms and the dining hall, but the classrooms are all full. I hope you don’t mind being interrupted, Leo.”

“Of course not,” he replied cheerfully. “Class, this is Feu Drake and Director Avonmorea of Addergoole.”

The students all bowed, very properly. Regine nodded politely back to them while Feu Drake executed a lovely Japanese-style bow.

Regine was, she had to admit, reeling. She sought refuge in manners older than the world they were currently living in. “You seem to be doing very well for yourself here, Leofric, jae’Lightning Blade.”

“We are.” He smiled back at her, seemingly unfazed. She wondered if he was doing as Cya had seemingly done, and hiding his fury behind a smile. She wondered what his fury would look like.

“It’s a lovely school. And I’m sure Luke is pleased to see you’re teaching combat?” She did not wish to start another argument, not today. Luckily, Leo seemed to have no interest in arguing at the moment, unlike his crew-mate.

“Oh, that’s just secondary. I’m the math and science teacher.” His smile was entirely disarming.

“Ah.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Very good indeed. Do you, ah, do you find it challenging?”

He shook his head. “Nah, not at all. I love working with kids, and it’s nice to use my ancient PhD for something.”

Regine coughed. “You – ah. I believe I’d forgotten you had a PhD. What in?”

He shrugged dismissively, still cheerful. “Physics with a focus on electromagnetism. Not a lot of reason to remember, the way the world is now. “

“Well…” Regine rallied with effort. ”In this city, here, it seems like it might apply?”

“More than most places. It’s a great city, isn’t it?”

“It’s an amazing city,” Feu Drake agreed. Of course he did. You’d thought he’d thought of the whole thing himself – which was a train of thought to consider.

Regine glanced over at him, then returned her attention to Leo. “It’s been very impressive so far.”

“That’s Cya for you.” Leofric was practically dripping with pride. Regine found her gaze drawn down to the toddler currently attempting to climb “Inazuma’s” leg, then back up to Leofric. What else had she missed?

She smiled politely. “I could only wish all Addergoole’s graduates were this accomplished.”

“That would definitely be interesting.” He smiled affectionately at the child. “I hope you’re being good for the visitors, Kou-kun.”

Sigruko suddenly made a great deal more sense. Regine found herself smiling at the clear parental love. Then the rest of what Leofric had said sank in. “Ah.” She considered every single Addergoole graduate achieving at this level. “Ah.“ She coughed. “Interesting indeed.”

“That reminds me, while you’re here, Director. I was thinking it might be educational for some of our students to visit Addergoole for a couple days. What do you think?”

Regine sputtered, her only consolation that Cynara was sputtering too, and, appearing to think it was a fun noise, so was Kovi. Leofric looked damnably innocent.

“I am… certain it would be educational, and that we could arrange something. I’ll, ah, make certain to send a note.” She nodded to Leofric. “It’s been a pleasure to see you again.” She found she meant it.

“Enjoy the rest of your visit.” He smiled and turned back to the class. Regine turned back to Cynara, uncomfortably on uncertain footing.

“It’s a busy school,” Cynara commented mildly. She gestured out of the dojo and led the way she’d gestured, bringing them back out into a sunny afternoon.

“Your children – your students – seem quite happy and well-adjusted,” Regine was forced to admit. “It would be difficult to realize, standing here, that the world had fallen to pieces out there.”

Just then, three of the children in question darted past. One was wearing kimono and hakama, the obi in a blue-and-yellow plaid that looked quite fetching. Another was in a grey-black-and-white plaid kilt with a grey sweater vest; he was wearing purple knee socks and tie.

The third, Regine noted, was in addition to the grey and pale blue accessories and the long black pants, wearing a collar that was, firstly, very much a collar, and secondly, stripped with the same purples of the kilted student.

“You allow Keepings here? I’m quite surprised.”

“This is me we’re talking about here. I can’t believe someone hasn’t mentioned my penchants to you.”

“You mean your, ah, Kept-of-the-Year?” It had taken a disturbingly long time for Luke and Mike to explain that to her, but they had, indeed, explained it. “It’s a bit surprising, considering how vociferous you are about the Keepings your crew endured.”

Cynara raised her eyebrows. She turned to look Regine flat in the face and her expression blanked. “Howard had a lovely Keeping. I had endurable Keeping. Zita had a necessary Keeping. And we all learned quite a few things from those Keepings, including that it is not the institution that is bad.”

The blankness vanished, replaced by another smile, this one dry and unamused. “Our older students explore mutually-agreed-upon Keepings under the supervision of both students’ Mentors. Cases of abuse are nipped in the bud, and we monitor the physical and emotional health of all involved for every step along the way. We take care of our students, Director.”

There was not so much of an implication as a clear accusation there. Regine studied the woman in front of her, ignoring the smile, crooked and fake. There had never been any warning signs in that Keeping – and, two years after Eris, they had all been looking. Of course, they’d missed the signs in Leofric, searching for violent abuse and overlooking emotional suffocation.

Regine nodded, very carefully. You left us to pick up the pieces.

She had done this woman a disservice. She had, as Feu Drake had suggested, quite a bit to consider.

We take care of our students.

“It is good,” she answered carefully, “Principal Red Doomsday, that you do. There is much to learn from here.”

~

“Well, that went quite well.” Feu Drake seemed quite perky as they left the city.

Regine eyed him sidelong. “You truly believe so?”

The smile faded from his face. “Yes.” He was the more serious Drake she had come to know. “Sometimes, she needs to remember that it is acceptable to be angry. And sometimes, you need to be reminded that you have done things worthy of that anger.”

Regine did not answer, lost in her own considerations of the trip. She had much to consider, indeed.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/961728.html. You can comment here or there.

Venison, a rather short story of Cloverleaf (@inspectrcaracal)

Jul24

(This one born out of a dream in a rather different way than the last dream-story)

They didn’t hunt venison in or around Cloverleaf.

Oh, sure, sometimes someone snagged a buck for their table, but they did so on the sly, and they didn’t hang trophies.

There wasn’t a law against it — there were very few laws in Cloverleaf against what you could hunt, sell, or eat in terms of food, and they mostly said “don’t hunt or eat sentient beings” and “don’t sell poison or other non-foods as food.” But early on in the city’s life, someone had shown their founder-and-leader a prize trophy buck.

The proud hunter — and everyone around him — had noted the way Cya Red Doomsday went pale and a little green. And then someone took a long look at Leofric, one day in Autumn when his Mask was down.

Word got around, slowly but surely. And nobody hunted venison around Cloverleaf anymore.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/961058.html. You can comment here or there.

An Educational Visit, Part V/?

Jul11

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s request/commission after I Should Visit, Part I, Part II, Part III and Part IV; 1,425 words

Regine’s eyebrows went up. “You have an Addergoole student here?”

Cynara, curse her, smirked. “We have several. However, Deimos was conceived and born outside of Addergoole.”

Regine twisted her lips. Definitely a student of Feu Drake, this one. “He is on our rolls to attend Addergoole next year.”

“His mother didn’t contact you?” Cynara raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps she was waiting until her first two children graduated.”

Regine held Cynara’s gaze. “Why do you think she would do something like that?”

The woman’s smile was sickenly sweet and innocent. “To avoid retribution against her children, of course.”

“And I suppose you told her that I would do such.” She would wipe this insolent speck off the face of the planet, but Luke would be irritated with her.

“If I had, who could blame me? You have threatened my own grandchildren.”

“I did no such thing!” Even as Regine protested, some small, honest part of herself reminded her that she had certainly considered it.

“Director, I was a student of Drake in my youth. I can certainly read into the words spoken. However, I said nothing like that to Eulalia; when we have third-children here, we normally suggest the mother inform Addergoole as soon as possible.”

“So this is common?” Regine gestured around the shabby little dorm room. “You often steal away Addergoole students for your school? No,” she interrupted Drake, “don’t explain for her. I want to know what she thinks she’s doing.”

“I steal no-one.” Cynara’s voice was calm and smug. “I invite parents to send their children here. Some of them, as I do, have children we have borne outside of the confines of Addergoole.” She gestured to her toddler, who was opening and closing the door to the “cottage” with glee.

“If they don’t want to want to send them to Addergoole, they’re under absolutely no obligation to do so. And if they have children who will be going to Addergoole, well, there’s absolutely nothing that says they cannot come here until then. We have several of those in attendance.”

“How dare you?” Regine stepped closer to Cynara. ”The sheer unmitigated gall of you, you insufferable mistake of a child!”

Cynara kept smiling, despite the insults. “If I am a ‘mistake,’ it wasn’t me that made it.” She pulled up a chair and sat down. “Professor Drake, maybe Kovi can show you our garden?”

“I would like that,” Drake agreed solemnly. He murmured Words that Regine was certain he did not mean to be secret, a Working that would allow him to monitor the conversation. She found it irritating – but she had far bigger fish to fry right now.

They waited, in seething silence, while Drake coaxed the toddler out of the room. Regine had several Workings ready; if it came to battle, she did not intend to lose. But she would wait, patiently, rather than have it be said that she put a child at risk.

“So.” Cynara steepled her fingers and looked over them at Regine. “I think we have some misconceptions here. You seem to have come here to judge me or my school. And while that may be your intent, you are in no position to do so.”

Regine opened her mouth. The git did not give her a chance to speak before continuing.

“You are the Director of a school I once attended, and a revered member of a dead society.” She at least did not look pleased at that. “More than that – we are not friends, and we are not allies. If we are careful, we can end today not being enemies, and for all of those others involved, that would be a good thing. However.”

Regine had been accused of not recognizing emotions when they bit her in the face – Mike’s words. However, even she could see the hatred in the face in front of her.

The voice remained entirely calm and stable. As angry as she was, Regine could not help but notice that.

“It is likely,” she began, and it was clear she was beginning something, “that I will forgive you for Dysmas, for the fact that he believed treating me like a thing was the way it was supposed to go. After all, it might not have directly been your fault; Agatha and Delaney taught him that.”

She took a breath. Regine heard something in that breath, and stopped her response.

“It is possible,” Cynara continued, “that I will forgive you for the time my son brought his rapist home for dinner. Or the time my grandsons brought a boy to me so broken, I cannot believe that the administration missed it. Trenton,” she added, before Regine could either ask or place the possibilities. Cynara had two grandsons – that she knew of, she added to herself – two years apart.

She remembered this boy. She nodded slowly, and did not interrupt.

“I may someday forgive you for the disservice you did to Boom as a whole, for years of dismissing us as unstable, as volatile.“ The words were nails the way she said them, hammered home with accuracy and strength. “For cursing us with your derision for being insane, when it was actions you condoned that sent us there.”

She had shifted as she spoke, small movements, animated ones. Now she froze, her gaze pinning Regine.

“I will never forgive you for what was done to Leofric. For watching his insanity for decades. For the fact that you let that bitch shatter him, and left us – broken ourselves, and children – to pick up the pieces.”

She leaned back in her chair. Regine was watching for it this time, waiting for the attack. Instead, she saw the moment that Cynara chose to put the anger away, carefully, as if in a box.

She had a momentary, incongruous memory: the chests Cynara had brought to school, large, clunky, and her only luggage. The sleeker, better-made ones Yoshi and Vidrou had brought, and then the carved boxes their children had pulled behind them like wagons, their wheels forged of steel.

The great-grandchildren had come to school with boxes, too, she realized, so elaborately carved that they looked like works of art.

That was worth considering at another moment. She waited, to see if Cynara was done.

“I spend fifty years–” Her voice was rough, as if she, too, was not sure if she was done or not– “carefully instructing twelve- and thirteen-year olds how to survive emotional abuse and rape without shattering. Teaching them how to lose just enough self to survive, without–”

Regine was certain that if she had not been there, Cynara’s voice would have broken. The woman lifted her chin, paused, and continued. “—without breaking, as their forebears did. I should hope you’ll forgive me, sa’Lady of the Lake, if I built a place with the hope of avoiding that in the future.”

“Your descendants still come to Addergoole.”

They were unwise words, stupid words, but they were the first thing that came to her lips. Why build the school, when all those great-grandchildren would not benefit from it?

“Well,” Cynara’s smile was tired, “if you recall, I did ask to be part of the Addergoole system initially. Since you turned that down – something about volatility, if I recall correctly? – I suppose I’ll just have to make sure as many children get the chance as possible. And besides, they get their first few years here. It’s an 8 to 18 program; that’s a good number of years to establish habits before they go to Addergoole, even if you call them at fourteen.”

Regine didn’t like it, but there was very little she could say to that. Except, she supposed – “And the oaths you swore?”

“Those ridiculous promises you make us all agree to, so that we can leave your place? They’re stupid, you know.” Cynara shook her head. “In this day and age, no child fails to know that fae exist. If you were seeking a level playing field – and what fun would that be, mm? – there are better ways to do it.” She stood up and tilted her head towards the door. “Professor Drake has been tormented by my little demon long enough. Why don’t we go rescue him?”

Regine nodded, rather than argue something where she had no polite way to do so. As they made her way down the stairs, however, Cynara continued, casually. “We don’t break our vows here, stupid though they may be. But you might consider, in due time, why some people’s children seem to know so much more, coming to Addergoole, than others’.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/961728.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/959578.html. You can comment here or there.

An Educational Visit, Part IV/?

Jul5

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s request/commission after I Should Visit, Part I, Part II and Part III; 1,676 words

Kurt bowed low, with an overdone flourish. “Welcome to Doomsday, lady and gentleman.” Never had those words been spoken so cheerfully. “I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

He sounded like a movie. Regine raised her eyebrows at him in the gesture that had quelled so many Addergoole students. This child, however, had no common sense, and was unconcerned. He winked at her playfully and turned back to the sidewalk, moving forward with a hop and a skip.

“First up is the dining hall and otherwise gathering-around place.” Kurt gestured negligently at the building.

“A church?” Regine was honestly shocked, enough that it showed in her voice. The building was tall, pale, and had a steeple — every bit like an old country church.

Kurt had the temerity to laugh at her. “Nooo.” He drew the word out. “I mean, there are churches and temples and such all over Cloverleaf. But not in the school. It’s more protective coloration. See, no crosses?” He pushed open a door so that Regine and Feu Drake could enter. “We eat in here most of the time, and then we do movie night and other sleepovers and things here.”

Inside, the dining hall spoke to Regine more of summer camps than churches: twelve trestle tables were spaced along half the large, vaulted room, with big chimneys at either side. “Movie night?” She can’t have heard correctly.

“Oh, yeah, and sometimes we do talent shows and the theatre club puts on plays, and the fighters will put on demonstrations and there was a fashion show last year.” Kurt flapped his hand negligently. “And at Christmastime, there’s a really big tree and we all get together for presents.”

“So you celebrate Christmas?”

“Well, or Yule or Chanukah or… whatever. But mostly Christmas. We give each other presents and stuff.” Kurt shrugged, un-concerned with the nuances of post-apocalypse religion. “But I mean, mostly, we eat in here. They serve three meals a day, but I generally eat dinner with my crew, my cy’ree, or sometimes both.”

“Ah,” Drake interjected. “You have a crew?”

“Yeah.” Kurt’s smile stretched into a wide, fond grin. “They’re pretty awesome, and pretty fierce. I dunno what we’ll do when Tamora and Brocce graduate — they’re a year ahead of me and Halston, but they might stick around the town, or come back.” He shrugged. “Next are the classroom buildings. This way.” He headed through the center of the dining hall, jumped up on one of the long benches and hopped from it to the next one until they reached a second exit.

“Ah, there you are.” Cynara walked up to them, carrying a young boy on her hip. “I’m sorry to wander off, but this one’s father has a class to teach, and I thought Professor Drake would enjoy meeting him.”

Regine had an eye for the Aelfgar look, which seemed to linger for generations. This toddler looked much like that, and much like Cynara, with a wicked smile that reminded Regine of and entirely non-Aelfgar child, Dirk. She raised her eyebrows.

Feu Drake stepped forward. “Ah, is this Kouveig? Yes, I would love to meet him.” Very solemnly, he held out a hand to the child.

In return, the toddler — Kouveig, Kouveig, she didn’t recognize the name nor the style — held out a hand to Drake. “Sa’Feu Drake… sa’Lady of the Lake, this is my son, Kouveig sh’Cya. Kovi, this is my former Mentor, Feu Drake, and Director Regine Lady of the Lake.”

The child took that all in with wide eyes, as if he understood it all. “Hi,” he said cheerfully, as he grabbed a couple of Drake’s fingers.

“His father is a professor here, then?” It was not the most delicate question, but Regine was always interested in genealogies.

“Of course.” Cynara’s smile was sharp-edged. “He’s crew, after all.”

Cynara’s crew had included two blonde descendants of Aelfgar. Regine cursed inwardly and smiled outwardly. “Of course.”

“Well, let’s not delay the tour, shall we? I’m missing teaching for this, after all.” Cya’s smile was no more friendly.

“You teach?” Feu Drake managed to make it sound inquisitive and curious. Regine was fairly certain it would have come off as incredulous from her right now.

Cynara laughed; clearly she had taken no offense. “Of course I teach. It’s my school, after all.” She smirked sideways at Regine.

Feu Drake stepped in yet again. “What classes do you teach?”

“Survival.” The smile dropped off of her face. “It’s what I’m best at, and in this world, it’s a required subject. Here, why don’t we show you the dormitories? Kurt, if you want to try to make some of your class, I’m sure your Mentor would be pleased with you.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He saluted sharply and bounced off. Regine managed another smile while she seethed. She hadn’t come here just to be insulted!

“It’s very kind of you to show us around personally when we’ve dropped in without an invitation,” Drake mentioned casually. “It’s quite an imposition, I know.”

Imposition? Regine raised her eyebrows. They were this woman’s teachers.

“Oh, I’ve been expecting you for a while. The staff of Addergoole did always want to see what I was up to.” Cynara shrugged languidly, as if she couldn’t understand why that would be. “I’m sure you visit hard cases like Ardell and Agatha too, or the nasty petty people like Dysmas and Eriko. Tell me, how is my former Keeper doing? Mags we keep an eye on, and Shiva… well, I’m sure we all know what happened to Shiva. We raised her children, after all. But we weren’t so keen on being friends with the other two…”

“They haven’t had quite such an interesting life as you.” Regine looked around the schoolyard by punctuation, then back at the small boy on Cynara’s hip. “Should you be talking about such things…?”

“Kovi isn’t bound to Addergoole. Very few of the children here are.” Cynara met Regine’s eyes, nothing but ice and anger in her expression or her voice. “And no more of my children will ever step foot inside that school if I can help it.”

The moment was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Regine shivering. Cynara was smiling again, gesturing down the lane. “These are all classroom buildings here, these three. We don’t have a very large school, nowhere near as big of class years as Addergoole, but we start and end earlier, too. We’re starting to work on a University soon, if only so this tiny genius will have a place to go to make trouble when he’s done making trouble at Doomsday.” She bounced the child on her hip affectionately. “So here is the youngest-children’s dorm, what we call the cy’Ascha or cy’younglings.” She gestured at the cheerful-looking large house. “They stay here for their first three or four years, until they Change or pick a Mentor.”

She made no move to go inside; Regine, distracted by a detail, didn’t push the mater. “Ascha? Aceline sh’Magnolia?”

“You know, I’m told that Luke said exactly the same thing, and the student giving him the tour said ‘we call her Miss Ascha or sa’Water under the Bridge.’“ Cynara smirked. “Aceline is a very good teacher, and far more patient with ten-year-olds than I will ever be.”

“I imagine she would be.” Regine could not shake the feeling that she had been scolded. Again. This child was taking her to task for–

“It’s easy to forget,” Drake murmured thoughtfully, “that children we saw conceived are adults now. Still, we did see them through their Naming ceremonies — see you through, I should say.” He nodded his head at Cynara. “Aceline is a very calm, thoughtful woman. She reminds me of her father; it’s sad she never got to meet him.”

“That happens far too often, I think.” Cynara set down her squirming child. “Even fathers interested in their children’s lives lose touch. Ah, here’s the cy’Red dorm, come on in.”

The house had red trim, darker red over that, with bright white clapboarding. It looked a bit like a candy cane and quite a bit like a Victorian confection.

Regine noticed first that it had a very nice foyer, comfortable enough for three people, jutting slightly onto its broad front porch. A small lap loom had been left out on the porch, as well as three bowls for cat food. “You practice handicrafts here?”

“Of course.” Cynara smiled brightly. “Cy’Red believes in being prepared for anything. And the fiber arts club — which isn’t part of cy’Red — often meets out here on the porch.” She held the door for them. “This is where my cy’ree lives, at least for their first couple years after they chose a mentor.”

Inside, the building looked much like a house – an open living room which fed into a dining room and, from there, into a kitchen, all of it bright and relatively tidy, a stairwell leading upstairs, which Cynara headed up, scooping up her son again as he struggled with the climb. “Most of the bedrooms are up here…” She knocked on a door and then opened it. “This one is pretty similar to the rest. Kelvin, Deimos, and Paul live in here right now.”

Inside, three loft beds sat over what appeared to be small cottages, complete with their own doors and windows. The rooms were looked lived-in, but far tidier than any child’s room Regine had ever seen.

She wasn’t paying attention to the room, however. She was repeating that name over and over again in her mind. It was not that uncommon a name — but on the bed in the middle sat a pillow, embroidered in a style Regine recognized. “Deimos sh’Eulalia?” she asked slowly.

“Deimos cy’Doomsday,” Cynara answered. Feu Drake coughed, and, for the first time, Cynara looked a tiny bit embarrassed. “Deimos’ mother is Eulalia, who was cy’Valerian and who is Named Slow Talker. I think that’s what you meant?”

Regine’s eyebrows went up. “You have an Addergoole student here?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/957451.html. You can comment here or there.

A Change in Routine, a story (beginning) for @InspectrCaracal

Jul2

Luke was waiting for Cya at the fence around Lady Maureen’s.

She was, she’d admit, predictable, but never in the sixty years that she’d been doing this had Luke stopped her. Talked to her, yes. Chatted, asked questions, sometimes even second-guessed her choices.

Something was different in his posture this time. There was something about the set of his feet and the spread of his wings that told her he wasn’t going to wait patiently, and he wasn’t here to chat.

Cya shifted her own posture, making sure she could feel the weight of every weapon she carried. She couldn’t win a fight with Luca Hunting-Hawk, certainly not on his territory. But she could make sure she got away and survived long enough to call in Boom.

He stepped forward. “Cya.”

“Sir.” She noticed, then, that he had his body and wings angled oddly. Hiding something? “Nice weather this year.”

“I have something for you.”

That’s what I’m worried about. “Sir?” He never had been great at small talk.

“I’m not something!” The complaint came from behind Luke; he shifted, folded his wings, and hauled a young man in front of him.

He was blonde, with a look Cynara recognized well – the chin, the nose, although the eyes were different. He looked more like Howard than like Leo, but they often did. And he looked not very close to either of them — but that made sense, because it’d been generations, and not every child of Aelfgar could’ve managed to have children with a sibling.

Unlike any of her favorite Aelf-get, he had a crown of horns radiating out of his blonde curls like a sunburst. Like many of them, he was wearing a seemingly perpetual scowl.

“Cya Red Doomsday, this is Apollo the Sun-fire. Apollo, this is the woman I was telling you about.”

Cya raised her eyebrows. “I don’t really do unwilling, Luke.” She couldn’t miss the way the Hawk’s fingers were pressing into the boy’s forearm.

“You used to.”

“I used to be a child. We were all children, once.” This conversation was not going where she’d thought it would. “I grew up.”

“That’s the problem.” He pushed Apollo forward; the boy tried to resist, but Luke was a force of nature. “This one didn’t. He managed to sit through four years of Addergoole and I don’t think he learned a damn thing, not the important stuff. He’s going to get himself killed out there.”

“He’s right here.” Apollo shifted as far away from Luke as the grip on his arm would allow. “And I’ll be fine. Look, I know how to fight. I’ll be able to take on anything I run into out there.”

Cya sighed quietly. “I see what you’re saying. But the thrill of the fight got old a long time ago, Luke, and I have my hands full.”

Apollo leered at her. “I’ll give you a fight, Lady.”

“Red Doomsday.” Luke’s voice grew soft and formal. “I am fond of this idiot, and he was my student. I am asking you a favor, that perhaps you might succeed where I have failed. It is not a small favor, and I pay my debts.”

Cya let that hang in the air. She looked the boy, pout, spikes, blonde hair, up and then down again.

“You.” She nodded at the kid. “You Belong to me for the next year.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/957294.html. You can comment here or there.

Damage Control, a very-likely-non-canon story of Cynara (And Leo), c. 2009

Jul2

The call came while they were watching TV after dinner: Supernatural, which amused Cynara on one level and reminded her of school in a whole different way.

“Got it,” she answered. The kids were listening, so she tried to make her voice sound reassuring. “I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”

On TV, the Brothers Winchester were fretting about how one couldn’t be a monster hunter and have a family. Cynara pulled her Kept aside. He was new, but he was already proving himself to be reliable and reasonably level-headed.

“Look, I’ve got to take care of a thing.” She saw Yoshi was watching her, but what could she do? The life sort of came up on you, regardless of if you had kids or not. “Everything should be okay here, but if anyone comes to the door, if anything strange happens — look, this is not an order, I am trusting you to use your judgement. But if it gets scary, lock yourself and the kids in the bedroom – their bedroom, the windows are protected – and stay out of sight, okay?”

He was fresh out of Addergoole; things being weird really didn’t faze him. He nodded. “Do what you have to do, boss.”

Maybe she was getting better at picking them. “Thanks, hon.” She gave him a kiss, hugged the kids and told them to behave, picked up Go Bag #3, and headed out.

Her first stop was a quick Find, looking for SWAT-worthy crime that hadn’t been noticed by the cops yet. She slipped on her gloves, and, standing across the road and behind a tree, made a hurried 9-1-1 call.

“I think they’re selling guns,” she whispered worriedly. “And they have some woman tied up…”

It was a bad scene, but nothing the cops couldn’t handle. And it would keep them busy.

She dropped the phone in a garbage can a few blocks away and made another call of a similar nature a few miles away. Once she’d gotten the third one down — it was amazing how much crime went on unnoticed in this city — she started making the other calls.

Her friend at 9-1-1 wasn’t supposed to give away any information, but he could confirm three phone calls of a man with “some sort of sword.” He could also deny that there had been any calls of anyone being attacked. Yet.

A quick web search told her the three most likely targets; the two that were most likely innocent got a call in from her second and third burner phones, a bomb threat and a weather warning. She dropped those phones in the river and a garbage can, respectively, and hopped back in the car.

The trick wasn’t finding him. Cynara could find him anywhere on the planet. The trick was minimizing the possible damage.

She made one more call, this one from her own call. “I’ve got it in hand.” The police were thoroughly distracted. The potential victims — the ones that were probably not actually Nedetakaei — were warned. Now all she had to do was either help Leo kill monsters or talk him down from killing innocent people.

She made another phone call, just in case, and kept driving.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/956987.html. You can comment here or there.