Tag Archive | morepls

Cleaning House, a continuation of Unicorn/Factory

Dec26

After The Grey Line (lj), Productive, The Governors (LJ), and Right & Wrong

Unicorn Factory has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

The Guilian story may contain references to “going down to the river” but no direct unicorn-on-human violence.

Santha had been sorting through Antheri’s papers for a week already, and, from the looks of her careful notes, she had at least two weeks to go. From the looks of things, even if Antheri had been completely right about everything, he had also been a) completely insane, and b) willing to do whatever it took to appease the monsters he believed the Governors to be, up to and including murder.

Guilian had not been idle while his new assistant – that was, Santha, and to the sewers with anyone who felt that was inappropriate – worked on Antheri’s paperwork. The Factory and the Town and thus the areas around the Factory and the Town had been under Antheri’s care for far too long; there were more tangles to straighten out than there were hours in Guilian’s days.

Today, he was staring at the output from the Factory, and working on a way to build in what should have been there from the beginning – some sort of filter on the waste. He had already worked out where the coriander everywhere was coming from, and, after a series of long and heated arguments, allowed cilantro plants to be set in pots around the perimeter of the town wall only. It would slow down the unicorn incursions without hurting either the unicorn-pregnant or the beasts (if they were indeed beasts) themselves.

But the coriander was not the only output, and the factory waste currently spewed directly into the river. Thus, the Administrator was standing in hip boots with the foreman of the plant, staring at the grey-black water.

“We need an engineer.”

“An engineer, sir?” The foreman was a steady man, but slow. “What for? We just need to get a bit of space here for a filter set-up.”

Guilian counted to ten silently. “And where are we going to get the space?”

The foreman looked at him as if he were the slow one. “I figured we’d just divert the river three feet that way.” He pointed away from the Factory. “We’ve already got the races in upstream, for power. We can just change their aim a bit, and drop rock here above the river level.”

This time, when Guilian counted to ten, it was to keep himself from sounding stupid again. “Brilliant. Get some workers on that, then.” One more problem solved. If he didn’t get any new problems by dusk, he’d actually be ahead.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/872575.html. You can comment here or there.

Free and Clear

Dec23

Prolly nigh on 50 years after Addergoole: Year 5

She wasn’t really sure why her last owners released her.

She’d done (almost) everything right, and had been (relatively) docile and obedient. She’d been trying to learn, and Owners Number Three had taught her quite a bit. But ‘why they released her’ wasn’t part of it.

They’d given her a nice big pack of stuff, too. The girl who had once been Delaney looked at it for the third time. There was enough in here to survive for a month, if she decided to wander. There was enough to trade for… well, a whole bunch of booze, if she felt like that, instead.

She wasn’t really sure what she felt like. She’d been under the collar for what she thought was probably a decade, and before that… before that, she’d been insane, cracked, and, if the stories and her vague memories were true, psychotic and sadistic.

That person had a string of homes and wealth scattered across the country. The person she was now wasn’t sure where any of it was – or if any of it was still where she’d left it. She’d shared everything with a partner, after all. And that partner was gone.

She stared down the road. It curved through wasteland and farmland, through places she didn’t remember being and places she might never have been. And it was all hers. She could do whatever she wanted.

The horse-drawn wagon clomped up beside her. “Going west, Miss?”

“I am.” At least, that was the direction she was pointed in. “I could give you..” she touched her pocket. “Twenty dollars Sondaran for a ride.”

“Ten will do. Hop on in.”

The man in the driver’s seat reminded her of Amish, long ago – beard and straw hat, plain shirt and plain pants. She wondered if the Amish had survived. “Thanks.” She passed over the money, first.

“My pleasure. My name’s Amos, by the by.”

She’d prepared for this. She had more than enough reasons to leave that old name behind her. But she’d needed a new one. “Ellery.” She smiled brightly. “You can call me El.”

She had a fresh start, and she was going to take it.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/870681.html. You can comment here or there.

Rumors about the Family, a story start for the Aunt Family

Dec10

I asked for Non-Addergoole Prompts here; this is to kiarrith‘s prompt.

The Aunt Family has a landing page here.

It was a whisper, not even a proper rumor, passed among the members of the family – mentioned as an overheard sort of thing in an e-mail, or drunkenly chuckled about in a party when the Powers That Be were busy being powerful elsewhere. Did you hear about the Aunt that got herself a cult?

Not even a proper Aunt, the rumors would continue. No sisters, a dead-end line. But that part, scandalous as it was, wasn’t nearly as shocking as the other part. And she’s being worshipped! Worshipped!

There were things you didn’t do, in the family. You didn’t trust men with power, you didn’t get pregnant if you were the Aunt, you didn’t bring men home – or women, or even cats – without running them by at least one Granny first. You didn’t show off your magic to outsiders, if you had any, or talk about it, if you didn’t.

And you certainly didn’t let people think you were a goddess.

But the rumors persisted. And, one day when her last child had left the nest, a woman named Stolen – a sensible, practical woman, a mother of four and already a grandmother of two, the sort who had put aside her tea leaves long, long ago – began making some discreet inquiries.

She had spent twenty-seven years working in insurance, and thus, in addition to being more cynical than most of her sisters, had a very well-honed skill with investigation, which she put to good use talking to relatives.

She might be a grandmother, but she was not yet, technically, a granny, and, besides, she was so down-to-earth that nobody really expected she’d be doing anything untoward. She was putting together a book of family legends, sure. It had been done before, but not recently. So people told her things.

And people outside of the family – they were easy. She might have put aside her tea leaves, she might have been solid and rational and dependable, but she was still what she was. People were easy.

It was thus that, two years into her youngest’s college life, Stolen found herself donning an all-covering blue robe and pulling the hood until it shaded her face.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/862984.html. You can comment here or there.

The Cat’s Paw, a story continuation of the Aunt Family

Dec4

I asked for Non-Addergoole Prompts here; this is to [profile] kiarrith‘s request for More Cat.

Aunt Family has a landing page here.

This comes after Family Secrets & Cat Secrets, which itself is after Cats & Grannies. and Cat’s in the Attic.

Beryl had the book now.

Radar found himself pacing, which was not common Radar behaviour, and possibly (he was no longer really certain) not really cat behaviour either. The family needed a strong, knowledgeable witch – Aunt, whatever – again. Eva did not want to be steered, which was good. But it meant that Radar was going to have to work sideways around things.

Radar was not good at working sideways, and he wasn’t really certain if it was the best idea. But, while he had been instilled with certain values, he had not been given precognizance, which he felt showed a lack of foresight on his creators’ parts. So he had to guess.

Guessing meant he’d put the most important book in the family’s history in the hands of a teenager – not even definitely the next Aunt, no matter what the family thought, although she was definitely already a witch – and hoped that she wouldn’t spill her soda on it or, possibly worse, spill the beans to all and sundry.

Beryl was proving good at keeping secrets so far. If he’d had fingers to cross, Radar would have crossed them.

Instead, he paced, while nearby, Beryl sat with the book, a laptop, a family dictionary, and a notebook open, taking precise notes on everything she read.

Finally, content that she was far too engrossed to notice him, Radar hopped up on the dresser and slid her cursed necklace over his own neck.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/859841.html. You can comment here or there.

Warm Visions and Warm Family, a ficlet of the Aunt Family

Dec2

I asked for Non-Addergoole Prompts here; this is to [personal profile] kelkyag‘s prompt.

The Aunt Family has a landing page here.

The day before Thanksgiving was, by family tradition, a day spent at the Aunt’s house, cleaning, prepping food, and getting everything ready for the feast the next day.

It was two things notably: It was a day where the family chose to ignore all gender distinctions, and work as if everyone was one, and it was a day in which the Aunt of the family was expected to sit back and not do any heavy lifting, metaphorically, metaphysically, or literally.

Eva was, thus, hiding out in her kitchen, with Beryl and Stone, who were ostensibly sorting the cocoas to help Beatrix & Janelle make cookies. But, since they were sorting cocoa – and since Everyone Knew either Beryl was going to be the next Aunt, or they were going to have to throw everything on its head and let Stone be an Uncle, they were making cocoa, and talking to their Aunt Eva about scrying.

“So, there’s a whole bunch of things going on.” Eva swirled her cocoa and finished the last of the milk, leaving a long ring of grit at the bottom. “The first is simply focusing the Sight in a convenient medium – the cocoa. The second is the feelings you’ve got about doing something. So.” She focused on the swirl, and smiled as she saw a cozy family scene around the big fireplace in her living room. “Cocoa tends to tell you warm, happy things. See?”

She passed the mug to the brother-and-sister team, and watched their faces light up as each of them sent their Sight into the grit. This was going to be a generation to watch, indeed.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/858048.html. You can comment here or there.

All Yours

Nov10

Priming the pump again. Writing a little non-Nano to get myself going.

Caroline swallowed. “You’re sure… sir?”

“I’m sure.” Jaden handed her the leash. “I promise you, I am certain about this, and no negative repercussions will come down on you for this.”

She took the leash as if it were a snake. “You said…”

“I said a lot of things, and most of them were wrong. I’m sorry for that, but this, I’m fairly certain you want this.”

“Well, a little bit, yeah…. but you’re in charge. You’re the Keeper.”

“And I’m still your Keeper. But for the next day, you’re in charge. As long as you keep to the rules-“

She found herself smiling. “I’m not very in charge if I have to keep to rules, am I?”

“Well…” It was interesting, to watch him smile. “All right. You have a point. It would be better if you kept any overt stuff inside the room, okay? It’s easier to protect you if people don’t think you’re topping from the bottom.”

She pondered that. Things were safer, being with him. “All right. So-“

“So, for the next twenty-four hours, I promise to do whatever you say, as if I were Kept. And for the next twenty-four hours, none of my orders hold sway over you.” He dropped to his knees. “In effect, I’m all yours.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/846286.html. You can comment here or there.

Deep Deep Down in Kitty Town

Oct6

The hood over Rrrina’s head smelled of menthol and nothing else, the world around her was muffled and her ears pinned against her head, and she was bound. Usually, when she ended up in this position, someone wanted to do something a bit naughty to her. This time… well, she wasn’t ruling it out, but she thought that “naughty” might be in a completely different context than she was used to.

And she was being carried again, carried by a skin-job, a leopard in a man’s body. This had to be the weirdest her life had been in – in – maybe in ever.

She was too turned around to have any sense of direction, the menthol in the hood made it impossible to navigate by scent, and her porter kept bouncing her, making it very hard to count steps. Had he stolen her? That’s what he’d said. But stealing slaves was – it was bad, very bad. And her head felt funny. Something in the menthol? Something… this was bad.

Rrrina came to on a cushion, in a warm place that felt like sunshine. Three sets of training came into play, and she opened her eyes only halfway while letting her other senses take inventory.

The cushion was comfortable, soft, and warm. The heat was too omnidirectional to be sunlight, but maybe a sun lamp? It was bright but not unbearably so, and the light seemed to be coming from above. Her nose was still clogged, but, even so, she could smell other cats.

She opened her eyes. The floor, the fixtures – all white. In front of her, a lab-coat person. Her eyes opened further. A lab-coat-wearing feline, jaguar spots, now that was new. Her captor was there, too, shedding out of his overalls. He met Rrrina’s gaze and smiled. It looked wrong, too feline in his human face

“Good, you’re awake. Welcome to the Feline Rebellion.”

After Down in Kitty Town, Entering Kitty Town, and Kit Town Maybe.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/823072.html. You can comment here or there.

The Hazards of Magic, a drabbleish of the Aunt Family for the Genderfunk Call (@wyld_dandelyon)

Oct4

Dr. Elwood had been the obstetrician for the last seventeen Family births. A remote cousin by marriage, Dr. Elwood understood, at least more than a normal doctor might have, the problems implicit in just about everything a Family member did.

Which meant that, when he held Haley Stone’s first child in his hands, he made sure that the nurses had cleared all extraneous family – all of them – out of the room before he spoke softly to Haley.

“Is it possible you – ah – indulged in some way during your pregnancy, Miss Stone?”

Her cheeks were already flushed, but he thought her expression might have been a bit guilty. “I never do drugs, Doctor. Is my baby all right?”

“Your baby is perfectly healthy, Miss Stone. And you know as well as I do that I didn’t mean drugs.”

“Ah.” Her hand went to the necklace around her throat, the one with the wide white stone that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. “I – ah… My baby?”

“Your baby is perfectly healthy, Haley. But ah, seems to have been born with more than one set of genitalia.”

“More than…”

The doctor held up the child, and Haley gasped. “Oh, oh, dear Lord, the grannies are going to kill me.”

Written to [personal profile] wyld_dandelyon‘s prompt.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/821593.html. You can comment here or there.

Family Secrets and Cat Secrets, continuation of the Aunt Family for the Giraffe Call

Sep12

This is wispfox‘s commissioned continuation of Cats & Grannies. and Cat’s in the Attic.

Radar appeared to approve of the center box of the nine – although, perhaps out of consideration to Aunt Bea, he wasn’t talking. Beryl, armed with the gloves the cat had suggested and a scarf tied over her nose and mouth, moved everything with the care usually taken by museum archivists.

(She wondered, very briefly, what a historian or archaeologist would make of the family archives, such as they were. Had anyone in the family ever studied archeology?)

“Aunt Bea…” Her voice was muffled by the scarf, but Aunt Bea’s hearing was still sharp. “Do we have any historians in the family?”

“Oh, the family doesn’t tend to go that way.”

“Aah.” Beryl noted the tone, and wondered what Aunt or pushy Granny had inculcated that idea into the family. “I think it might be fun to do a study of all this, that’s all.”

“Well, but who could you show it to?”

“Aunt-” She hefted the box out of its spot and set it, carefully, on a clear patch of attic floor “-Evangeline. Or maybe one of the cadet branches – hey, how come they’re the cad… never mind. Thanks for letting me take this, Aunt Bea.” That was Dangerous Territory. People Beryl’s age weren’t supposed to worry about Dangerous Territory.

“Don’t worry too much about the politics, honey. It’ll sort itself out, it always does. And be careful with what’s in those boxes – I mean, tell Eva to be careful.” Was that a wink, or just a trick of the light?

~

Beryl had earned the privilege of a locked door with her fourteenth birthday, and was very grateful for it as she and Radar sat down with the box. Not that she thought her mother would exactly object, but her mother would talk to her sisters, and her cousins, and they’d talk to their mothers, and their aunts, and so on, and soon Beryl would find herself buried in Grannies again.

She turned up the music nobody else in the house liked – just loud enough to be audible if one stopped to listen, not loud enough to get her yelled at by anyone else – triple-checked the lock, and made sure The Necklace was wrapped in silk and locked in a stone box. “All right, Radar.” She popped the lid and stared inside. “What am I looking for?”

“It’s going to be a journal.” Radar jumped into the box, growing smaller as he did in a show of power he almost never exhibited. The kitten-size fit much better among the paperwork. “If I recall, it was bound in leather – brown and green – and wrapped in ribbon.”

“There’s so much stuff here.” She lifted out a folder labelled Family Photographs, 1910. The handwriting was a long, spidery script she’d seen more than a few times before. “And what’s dangerous about photos?”

“In your family? Everything.” The cat pushed aside a yellowed book of sheet music; Beryl had never heard of the composer, but she could smell the magic still coming off of it like dust. “Here it is. Careful, girl, it’s old.”

Old didn’t begin to cover it. Beryl stared at the cover of the book, with its flaking gold-embossed name. “Is that…”

It had to be. The family, for reasons of clarity, did not repeat names. But she had to ask again, anyway. “Is that…”

“The secrets have been lost for a long time indeed, child. Take it.” Radar pushed the book towards her. “You’re going to need it.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/810539.html. You can comment here or there.