Tag Archive | morepls

E for Emrys – Harder than Diamonds – a story of Addergoole for the Giraffe Call

May8

This is for, I believe, Friendly Anon’s “E” prompt, “Emrys.

It comes after/concurrent with –
Toy Soldiers
With Friends Like These…,
Cleaning Up and
this scrap (http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/398701.html)
Monsters
Mimosas.
S for Shahin

There had been any number of hard things in Emrys’ life with Shahin.

Many of them had been, in retrospect, a very soft level of “hard,” teenage drama, teenage angst and jealousy and anger.

Some of them, even some of the moments very early on… there were nights Emrys still woke with the memory of that cabin, the dragon, the monster’s knife sliding down Shahin’s pale skin. Those moments still counted as hard, diamond-hard. (“Our love is harder than diamond.” They still said that, moments when everything seemed harder than they could bear.)

Walking away from Shahin had been harder than most of those times. They had squeezed hands, kissed, and broken their vows of forty-seven years without a backwards glance. Neither of them had shed a tear. Neither’s voice had trembled. Their kids were grown and gone; their grandkids were grown and gone. Their great-grandkids would be leaving for Addergoole soon.

And neither of them were big on revealing their cards, in any case. So he walked away from his warrior wife, walked into the hands of another woman.

That had been a hard moment, sapphire-hard like the etchings in Shahin’s arms, blue-hard like the tears he wasn’t going to shed. That had been a difficult moment, but it had been what he had to do. They were warriors, and this fight was going to happen here, with these people, and not where Shahin’s path was headed.

They were warriors, and they had made their decision, hard as it had been, hard-like-sapphires and blue like misery as it had been.

That had not been the hardest moment in Emrys’ life, but this one was. Kneeling on the floor of their enemy’s camp, knowing that he had failed Shahin, that moment was harder even than diamonds. And he did not know if their love was stronger than that.

And this one is a bonus. It comes after Addergoole: TOS, at the beginning of Year 6 of the Addergoole School.

“How does it feel, not being the youngest anymore?”

Emrys rested his hand on the small of his wife’s back as they watched the new students trail in. She, in turn, leaned into the hand, so subtly that no-one but him could tell she was leaning at all.

“They look so young.” Her voice was pitched for his ears alone; she shifted to pose as a new student stared openly. Shorter even than them and ginger, he looked as if he’d never seen a goth before.

“So did we.” Emrys turned his sharpest smile on the ginger boy before he got any ideas. “Remember?”

Shahin smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her dress. “That was a century ago.”

“A year.”

“The same thing, in the fullness of things. It was forever ago, either way.”

Emrys found himself smirking, just a bit. His wife, love her as he may, was a bit of a drama queen. “And here we are, back at the beginning.”

“Back at the beginning,” she agreed. She licked her lips and turned her smile, now, on a tall blond in a cowboy hat.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/528375.html. You can comment here or there.

The Strength, a continuation of the Aunt Family for the March Giraffe Call (@rix_Scaedu)

Apr28

This is [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of:
Intimately Involved (LJ) and
Precedent (LJ)

“Oh?” The other women turned as one towards Hessa. Hessa, in her own turn, had shaded towards a sickly pale green color.

Deborah found both of her hands going over her stomach protectively. “What is it, Hessa?”

“I think I found something out. I think I found another time it happened.” She smoothed the pages with both hands. “I think it happened to great-great-great-Aunt Pearl.”

“Great-great-great…” Deborah counted on her fingers. “That was the one who… vanished, isn’t it? Her diaries went missing with her.”

“I don’t think she vanished, Debs. I think someone vanished her. I think the Grandmothers vanished her.”

“The Grandmothers?” Deborah found herself looking back and forth between her cousin and sisters. “You mean her contemporaries?”

“Oh, relax, Debs. We’re not going to vanish you. We’re your friends, you know. This isn’t like the cousins over in Johnsonville.”

Deborah swallowed, hard, and found herself grabbing and clinging to the hand that Linda offered. “So you don’t mean Aunt Pearl’s sisters and cousins, anyway.” She looked up at Hessa, to find that both Hessa and Danielle had reached their hands out, too. She clasped them both with her free hand, and Linda put her free hand on top of that hand-pile.

“I think it was Pearl’s mother’s sisters, and their mothers and aunts. I think there’s something about the family that works badly if there’s a pregnant woman in the Aunt house, and I think they do everything they can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I think that nothing like that is going to happen to our Debs.” Danielle was firm. “We’re not going to let the grannies get in the way, and we are going to come up with a solution.”

Deborah found her sister’s confidence reassuring to hear, even if she didn’t share it. She might be the Aunt, but there was tremendous power held in the women of the family, especially the Grannies, as the younger generation called the older (but only when they weren’t listening). It did not have to be magic to be strong; the Grannies had the power of family behind them.

She wasn’t the only one not entirely reassured. “We still don’t know-” Linda began.

This time it was Danielle who found it. “I think I found something important.”

Linda, always the youngest, and thus used to being talked over, shut her mouth with a snap. They all turned to look at Danielle, who was holding up a hand-bound book, the covers looking suspiciously like home-tanned rawhide.

“Listen to this. ‘It is not that the power of the family’s Auntie rests in the womb, as some have speculated. Nor does it, as others had complained, rest in the mother’s milk.‘” She looked up at her sisters and cousin.

“Well.” Deborah didn’t want to get her hopes up. “That sounds like a good start?”

“Did anyone really think all the power sat in your belly?” Hessa was grumbling. Of course it was Hessa that grumbled.

“Clearly you haven’t heard the men of the family talk. Or, worse, some of the far-cousins who haven’t a spark of spark but still think that maybe they will be the next Auntie, or start their own line, because they have an empty womb.” Linda was getting grumbly as well. They needed refreshments.

Of course, they needed answers more.

“Keep reading, Danielle.” Deborah stood, noting as she did that she wouldn’t be able to hide her little problem much longer. Standing was beginning to get tricky, and the Grannies would definitely notice that.

“‘The power of the Aunties, indeed, of all our family, lies deeper still. After all, there have been men who have carried the power – not many, of course, and of course they cannot be trusted with it, but they do carry it, and they have no womb and no milk.‘”

Deborah set the tea kettle on the stove, and measured out the loose leaves into four cups that had been her great-great Aunt’s. “Interesting that they acknowledge the Uncles. The Grannies certainly don’t.”

“The Grannies don’t ever acknowledge anything that might mean change.” Linda, who had married a tall, handsome black doctor, might have been a little more aware of this than most of them.

“They’re supposed to be the anchor, like the cousins are supposed to be the sail.” Deborah had read that in another Auntie’s journal. “So that the boat of the family moves, but very slowly, and without tipping over.”

“Seems like that would just break the boat.” Hessa had her own opinions on matters. She always had.

“I think the assumption is that it’s just a really sturdy boat.” She pulled out bread and meats and cheese, and began throwing together a lunch tray. “Danielle?”

“‘The power of our family has always been twofold. First, in the family itself, root and stock, branch and bough. Second, in the thing that is sometimes called the Spark and sometimes referred to simply as the Legacy. The family has been carrying this spark as far back as any records I can find.‘” Danielle looked up. “Debs, what happened to the old records?”

“We hold on to them. When the family splits, like it did with Aunt Arvis, we make copies of some and just split up others. So, for instance, we have a hand-made copy of Aunt Fortune’s diaries, but we don’t have her Aunt’s diaries at all anymore.”

“It seems like we ought to digitalize it.” Linda frowned. “Or is that against the Auntie creed?”

Deborah clasped her hands over her belly. “I don’t believe I’m one to stand on tradition. Dani, is there more?”

Danielle frowned at the page. “‘The thing,‘” she read, “‘that one must always remember about this spark, the reason that, like cloistered monks and nuns, the holder of our power is always virgin, always female, always childless, is that it is only in our control because of concentration. The moment that concentration fails, we run the risk of doom.'”

“Oh.” Deborah curled around herself, unwilling, for the moment, to pretend to be strong. “Oh.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/522247.html. You can comment here or there.

F is for Friend Fiend Forgetting

Apr16

To [personal profile] imaginaryfiend‘s prompt

“Noornian. You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

“Know.” The fiendling ducked its head. “Know. Forgot. Sorry.”

Janet had been almost eight before she’d figured out that other peoples “Imaginary friends” hadn’t been twee mispronunciations of what hers was – an fiend powered on imagination. By then, it had been too late, and the whole school knew that Janet had an “Imaginary demon friend.”

Which was fine, really, except that, unlike (most) of the other students’ imaginary friends, Noornian was visible to other people. Not all the time, no, but when it forgot to cloak itself…

…well, then the more observant of Janet’s classmates would see her with a “dragonet” or a “little shoulder demon” or a “lizard of some sort” draped around her shoulders, where Noornian spent most of its time. And then the teachers would get upset, either with the students, or with Janet, or, in a few specific cases, the teachers.

Mrs. Contori had held Janet after class. Again. To scold her demon.

“Noornian, are you sure you ‘forgot?'”

“Forgot!” The fiendling waved both front paws in an urgent gesture. “Noornian good. Friendly. Forgot. Wanted to say hello to cute fire-haired boy.”

Cute fire-haired boy. Janet felt her own cheeks burning. She spoke up before Mrs. Contori could. “Noornian, it doesn’t sound like you forgot. And you know what I told you would happen if you dropped your cloak on purpose again…”

“Forgot! Forgot! Noornian will be good and not forget again!” The fiendling was flailing with four limbs now. “Only – maybe can meet fire-hair boy?”

Damnit. Janet stole a glance at Mrs. Contori, to find that the math teacher was smiling. “Janet, I think if you invited Justin home to study with you, he might be amenable to meeting your fiendling. You know,” her smile was conspiratorial, and she reached up to her shoulder to pat her own fiendling, “because it is good to keep our shoulder-demons happy. Lest they ‘forget’ more important rules.'”

“Noornian forget.” Sounding entirely smug and pleased with itself, the fiendling settled down on Janet’s shoulders to groom itself.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/512106.html. You can comment here or there.

Questioned, a story for the Giraffe Call (@Inventrix)

Apr9

For [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt.

Mikary had heard the calling so loudly she had thought, for a moment, she was going deaf.

She had taken that calling and hitched her wagon to it, packed her whole life into two packs and gone questing.

“Why now?” her mother moaned. “The lovely boy down the street was just beginning to look at you properly.”

“Why there?” her father frowned. “There’s dangers on the road you can’t imagine, and monsters in the woods.”

“Why Andrung?” Everyone wanted to know that. “Why the Missing god, the lost god, the failed god?”

“Why Paladin?” The boy down the street was as lovely as Mikary’s mother said. “Why god-touched, why pure, why would you go adventuring at all?”

Mikary had no answers for them, so she gave none. The voice of Andrung was loud in her head, so loud she could barely hear the questions anyway. She packed up what few possessions she had, and she walked.

“Why now?” Villagers could see the godhead about her, and that was enough for them to give her sustenance and shelter, to ask her for blessings and prayers. It was enough for them to ask questions. “The roads will be wet with mud and thick with brigands, now.”

“Why there?” The other Paladins she passed were generally polite enough not to sneer at her choice of faith, but her choice of locations, on the other hand… “That forest has been blasted and useless for generations.’

“Why Andrung?” Even the Paladins asked that eventually. “Why the god that left, the god that does nothing, the god with no light?”

Mikary had no answers for them, so she gave none. She gave blessings – Andrung had no light, but there was warmth aplenty. Andrung may do nothing, but the gift of the god allowed Mikary to do plenty.

On the road, at least, nobody asked “Why Paladin.”

“Why now?” The forest was dark, and the voice of the god had left her head. The only voice was the traveler in front of her – tall, taller than the tallest man in Mikary’s village, and nearly as broad as the road. “Why do you travel now, when the farms need tending?”

“Why here?” His companion stepped from the forest. Only half as tall as the first one, he was twice as wide. “Why come to the depth of the world, where the monsters live”?

“Why a paladin of Andrung?” This one was a shadow on the other side of the road, with a voice like a granny. “Why the god the world bypassed? Why the god who was thrown off?”

For them, Mikary found she had answers.

“I come now because I was called. The roads are muddy, the crops need tending, and the man back home will have found another girl when I return. But now is when Andrung called me.

“And here is where he called. I answer the voice of my god, to the forest dark and blasted and perhaps full of monsters, because the god called me here. Where else would I walk?

“And who else would I choose? Andrung chose me, when naught else would satisfy. The forsaken god, the forsworn god, perhaps, but I come here, I came now, I came for Andrung. Because Andrung called me.”

“Then come to your god.” The three spoke as one, and Mikary understood, finally, why she had come.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/507478.html. You can comment here or there.

Changing, a continuation of Facets of Dusk for the Giraffe Call (@Lilfluff)

Apr4

Afer Thick, after Deep in the Autumn Air, after Cloaked. To [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt

“Change us.” Xenia hid a twitch in an adjustment of her absurd cloak. How anyone could shoot in this, she didn’t know. (How Aerich knew she had a title she really, really didn’t know. She’d pry that out of him later. In private.) “I do not wish to be changed.”

“Sometimes such things happen despite our will.” If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought that he sounded sympathetic.

“Would you say that’s something changing us?” Cole was pointing along the road with his staff.

What they’d thought was a small village around the base of the castle was, well, a small village around the base of the castle. But now that they were closer, they could see that the town didn’t suit the genre of the world they’d stepped into.

“Is that a saloon?”

“Complete with saloon girls.”

“Is that a knight?”

“Complete with shining armour.”

The team shared a glance. “There’s a wild west town.” Cole sounded tired. Xenia didn’t blame him.

“Surrounding a medieval-style castle.” Josie sounded worried. Xenia didn’t blame her, either.

“Are we on a movie set?” Alexa stepped forward. “This doesn’t seem thin enough for a movie set.”

“Most worlds with movies don’t have this much magic.” Aerich always had to contradict Alexa. Xenia wished they’d get back to fucking and stop all the arguing.

“So.” Peter stepped forward. Good, solid, boring, reliable Peter. “So what we have is either a very strange world, or a slip between worlds. Perhaps a Door that someone else opened?”

“I’d say it bears investigating.” Xenia stepped up next to him. “Come on, Cole. Lead on, Fearless Leader.”

“You guys are nuts.” Still, Cole stepped back to the front of the group.

“That’s why you hired us.” It felt good to be nuts. It felt good to be actually exploring.

The air might be thick with magic, but Xenia was full with adventure.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/506303.html. You can comment here or there.

Precedent, a continuation of the Aunt Family (Moreplease)

Mar30

After Intimately Involved.

“Surely this is a question someone in the family has faced before.”

It was a cornerstone of their family: they had been around so long, almost every problem they faced had been faced before. Too many sisters? They had faced that over and over again. Too many brothers? They knew how that had been dealt with. Problem with police, zoning, neighbors? They could look up how their predecessors had handled a similar situation. Demons, ghosts, possessions – somewhere in the diaries, there was a note about a prior incident.

But not about a pregnant Aunt. Either it never happened, or no-one ever wrote about it.

Linda and Deborah had spent every moment of free time for the last week – Linda and Deborah, and then their sister Danielle and their cousin Hessa – digging through the old Aunt diaries. They had learned more about the family’s personal business than they ever really wanted to know, but they had yet to find a pregnant Aunt.

“Someone has to have dealt with this.” Hessa poked Deborah in the stomach. “Seriously. We’re human, even the Aunts.”

“Maybe it didn’t make it into the diaries. There’s a few places where there’s these funny gaps, like the Aunt decided not to write things down for a month or two.”

“Some days that’s just because nothing happens. I have months like that.” Deborah had not shared her own diaries. Those were for posterity.

“I’m not sure.” Linda frowned. “The grannies and great-grannies would know.”

“We can’t ask them.” Danielle pursed her lips. “We can’t get them involved.”

“Oh.” Hessa was staring at the diary in front of her, an old one, the leather cracking. “…oh…”

Oh?  http://www.lynthornealder.com/2013/04/28/the-strength-a-continuation-of-the-aunt-family-for-the-march-giraffe-call-rix_scaedu/

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/501862.html. You can comment here or there.

They Were Over

Mar1

For [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt.

Nilam is an Addergoole: Yr9 characters. Forrester comes to school in Year 10.

She had thought she was done with him when he took the collar off her neck.

She walked away; he walked away. Neither of them were comfortable with the way the last year had gone. Neither of them wanted to be friends. They were over.

She had thought she was done with him when the dreams stopped.

She had a new Kept, a lovely boy who didn’t fight her too hard and made the sweetest noises when she had to punish him. She curled up around him at night and, after a few months, she stopped dreaming of her former Keeper. They were over.

She thought she was done with him when he graduated.

Their daughter looked nothing like him and everything like her. Her dreams had stopped, the whispers of his Words not coming through, anymore, even when she scolded her Kept. She didn’t say, anymore: good Kept do this, bad Kept do that, the way she had learned his Keeper’s Keeper had said. She didn’t punish her Kept for having thoughts. And she didn’t dream about him anymore. They were over.

She thought she was done with him when she graduated.

She was leaving everyplace she’d ever known him, every place she’d ever seen him. She was leaving the last places that echoed with his name – and all the classmates that knew Forrester was Kept by Nilam, and look what that did. She was leaving everything behind that could in any way suggest Nilam. Everything.

She walked out of her new apartment and walked right into her former Keeper.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/483949.html. You can comment here or there.

Totally Saturated Big Brother

Feb6

For [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of Big Brother.

Ashele had to talk to Katina before she talked to Mr. Ankay.

She wasn’t sure how to broach her question: “did you see someone sitting next to you?” didn’t seem to cover it.

Jacque solved that dilemma for her, at least. “Did you see that totally saturated boy? The one sitting next to your kid sister?”

Saturated was better even than in-depth. Ashele tried not to smile and pretended not to know what Jacque was talking about. “You mean Mr. Pierson, my piano teacher? He’s maybe a little in-depth…”

“Oh, come on, he must be your cousin or something. Doesn’t your mother at least have a big brother?”

“No. But my dad has three.” Could it have been a cousin? Mr. Ankay had acted like there was something to talk about, but maybe, maybe it was nothing at all, just an older cousin showing up for no reason at all.

“You’ve utts got to introduce me. Me, first, before Bradelli or Miko. Promise it, Ashele. Data port swear it.”

“I don’t know who he is, Jacque.”

“But your kid sister does. And if your kid sister does, eventually you will. It’s the big brother rule.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“I know. But it’s true. She’s your kid sister. Thus, you will get to glare at the boy, and then you will introduce me. Ergo Sum.”

“Ergo sum yourself. What if he’s dating my kid sister?”

“…oh. Well, if he’s not? Then you’re data-port swearing.”

Ashele couldn’t argue with her logic. “If he’s not dating Katina, I will introduce you to him before I introduce Bradelli or Miko. Data-port swear.”

Jacque was satisfied. And Ashele was mostly-comfortable with it. Mostly. She was pretty sure that she could manage not introducing her imaginary brother to anyone else before Jacque, but data-port swears were nothing to mess with. Everyone knew you could get a nasty virus that way.

Her friends dealt with, or at least one friend, Ashele tracked down Katina. She, in turn, was talking to dad.

“I told you we needed a big brother.”

“And I told you that you had a perfectly serviceable big sister. You shouldn’t be so bound by societal trends, Kattie.”

“Easy for you to say!” Katina was working up a good head of steam.

“Woah, woah, cowgirl.” Ashele stepped in and took the irritation on herself. “You know you’re right. I know you’re right. Deep in his sandbit heart, Dad knows you’re right. He’s still Dad, though, and that means we gotta pretend to respect him, especially in public, where all his friends can see.”

“Thank you, Ashele… I think.” Her father frowned at her. “So. Do you want to talk about it?”

Um.

She held up her diploma. “I graduated. High honors and everything.”

“You did, and I’m very proud of you. But, Ashele, people noticed that manifestation. And if you don’t work on controlling that, you’re going to have created a Solid. And then what will you do?”

“We’ll have a big brother, that’s what! If you’d just done things right…”

Ashele couldn’t bring herself to argue with Katina’s logic.

Their father looked like he was having trouble with it, too. “Girls. You know why we chose to do things the way we did…”

“No, actually.” Ashele was getting too wound up to be polite. “No. We know you had some worry about ‘societal norms,’ but all that meant is that I had to be big brother to Katina and not have one of my own, when all my friends did.”

“I…” Their father sat down, hard. “I would ask if it really meant that much to you, but you manifested a solid creation in the middle of a crowded theater. It certainly mattered to you.”

“Yeah.” She wasn’t sure how to deal with him agreeing with her. He’d never done that before, at least not over the brother issue. “Yeah. Look at my friends. Their brothers are all here, cheering them on. Their brothers pulled them out of messes. Their brothers helped them out and tutored them in math.”

“And you got through math without a tutor, taught Katina, and bloodied enough noses that the teachers had us in their top emergency call file. You’re a strong, lovely young woman, and you did it without the help of a big brother.”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t have been strong with one? How would you know? Maybe I could have learned to hoverblade sooner. Maybe I could have passed that Ivy admittance exam.”

Their father sighed. “Well, what will you do with one now?”

“What will I… what?”

“You created him, Ashele. He exists now, even if he’s not solid at the moment. You’ve made the big brother you always wanted. So what are you going to do with him?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/470615.html. You can comment here or there.

The Cup, Part II

Feb1

This is as far as I’m getting tonight. IT’s more of a transition than a story.

After this.)
The Thorn Vessel. The Wooden Death. The Hawthorne Cup.

His son.

The boy wearing his former Keeper’s collar stood like he was the thing blocking the doorway, like it was him and not the Sanctity of the home keeping Pellinore out. “Are you here for me?”

That was an uncomfortable question. Pellinore decided, against his better nature, to go for the honest answer. “I wasn’t. I can be if you want, though.”

“You can’t rescue me.”

“I can’t. Not without an army. Do you want me to go get an army?”

He rolled his shoulders. “It’s not… bad.” The boy shook his head. “So you’re not here for me. You’re here for her?”

“I need to ask her a favor.”

“Hunh. I’ll go get her then. Stay here.”

Pellinore waited. It was strange, as it was every time. This hadn’t been where she Kept him. This place had never been his home. And yet…

“Pellinore. It’s been a long time. If you mean me and mine no harm, come on in.”

He paused in the doorway. “It’s not that I mean you harm, quite. It’s that I need to ask you something…”

“And that something might lead to harm. Accepted and come in. What do you need me to find, Pellinore?”

“That transparent?”

“That’s why people come to visit me.” Her living room had gotten bigger since the last time she visited. Her furniture was still spotless. “So?”

Her Kept was hovering in the doorway. That had always made it uncomfortable. He started talking anyway. He hadn’t come all this way to sit squirming like a kid again.

“So. I heard a rumor.”

“Oh, Pellinore…”

“Not just one. Not just a rumor. But lots of them. Over years. I waited. I wanted to be sure. I got all the information I could before I came to you.”

He pulled his notes out of his coat pocket. Piles and piles of notes. “The Hawthorne Cup.”

“That sounds vicious.”

“More than that. It’s deadly. But it’s supposed to have more that the poison. It’s the Grail, Cya. It’s the fae Grail.”

“And, of course, you have to find it. Remind me to punch your father.”

“Remember to punch my father.” He and JohnWayne said it at the same time.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/467670.html. You can comment here or there.