Tag Archive | prompter: Cal

Doomsday Intro: Leaving Home (@inventrix)

Nov17

Written this way so I don’t have to put specific characters w/ specific intros until I’m ready

“All right.” Mom was being more cautious than normal, which was saying something. Three holstered weapons showing, never mind how many were hidden. Behind her, Uncle Tedd had the rifle out of the holster and his free hand on the gate.

Until today, the gate had been the end of the world. Until today, the world had consisted of two hundred acres of woodland and pasture and garden, fenced in with 10-foot-tall wire fencing and then with a wall twenty feet inside that and something magic and weird inside that. Until today, the world had been ten people, fifteen during the wintertime. Until today, the world had been very small.

Today, a woman in a wagon was waiting by the gate, and Mom and Uncle Tedd were checking all their weapons. Today, Uncle Tedd was staying home – which never happened – and Mom was leaving. Mom, and you. Leaving the farm. That never happened. That was never supposed to happen.

You clung to the bag Mom had handed you, and tried not to stare at the lady driving the wagon.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/849591.html. You can comment here or there.

Just a fragment of Luke visiting Doomsday

Nov10

Please note I’m very tired and I’m not entirely sure about… like 9/10 of this piece. After Discoveries about Doomsday.

Luke leaned against the hallway wall for a minute, his wings splayed from a portrait of George Washington to one of Geronimo. He found his hand reaching for a weapon he’d politely not carried into town, and pressed his palms against his thighs instead.

Nehara’s gaze caught it all. “Sir?” She tilted her head, her voice softening. “Is… everything all right?”

Carefully, he folded his wings. Damnit, he had better control than this. “Learn something new every day.”

“As long as you live, my grandfather likes to say. And, being fae, that can be a long time and a lot of learning. Or so he says.” She bowed her head. “Sorry. I know, I’m just a kid.”

Luke know he wasn’t the most observant of guys – if nothing else, this new revelation rubbed that in – but he could tell that was out of as much character of Nehara’s as he’d been able to pick up already. “Hey.” He flapped his wings at her, just enough to get her attention. “I’ve been best friends with a succubus for centuries. I can notice a thing or two.”

Her lips curled, just a little bit. “We don’t have many, here. Succubi.”

“Jut you.”

“Well. Ah. You noticed.”

“I noticed.” He coughed. “I can notice something, once in a while. Even if I missed…”

“Something we’re pretty sure sa’Feu Drake meant everyone to miss?” She flashed him a bright smile. “Their crew is called ‘Boom’ for more than one reason, sir.”

“And we’ve been waiting for the explosion for decades.”

“Sonic boom, sir. I think that’s what it’s called.”

“Sonic…” He closed his wings tightly. “By the time we hear the sound, the explosion is already past.”

“Pretty sure you’re standing in the ‘pit’ sir.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/846578.html. You can comment here or there.

Discoveries about Doomsday, a continuation of AG/Doomsday (@inventrix)

Oct29

First: Visiting Doomsday
Previous: Classrooms of Doomsday

Kheper nodded at Luke. Luke nodded back at Kheper. Nobody needed to be a succubus to sense the tension in the air.

The students weren’t, Luke assumed, all in the room yet – there were three there, one in just-grey-white-and-black, one with the same red accessories and accents that Nehara was wearing, and one wearing light green and pink. All three of them, almost in unison, looked at their professor, looked at each other, and turned to look at Luke.

He flared his wings and, feeling immensely self-conscious under the gaze of three teenagers and one boy he still thought of as a teenager, bowed again. He cleared his throat. “Ah, hello. Professor – Agislaw. Jae’Law-Shield.”

The boy in pink and green gasped. Luke schooled his face and waited for Kheper’s response.

The boy – man, he probably deserved that much – bowed back in response. “Sa’Hunting Hawk. Luke. Principal Doomsday told me you were visiting, but I didn’t know you’d be taking in my humble class.”

There had never, ever, been anything remotely humble about Kheper. Still. Luke smiled, and tilted his head in Nehara’s direction. “My tour guide thought it would be a good idea.”

“Aah. Nehara. How kind of you.” Kheper’s attention slid seamlessly to his students. “Since the three of you were so kind as to be on time, allow me to introduce you to the head of Security at Addergoole and my former PE teacher, Luca Hunting-Hawk. Sir, this is Nur, Ihab, and Antigone.”

He remembered when Antigone’s father had named her. He’d come back to Addergoole to ask Luke about the naming visions, pale and sick-looking.

“…and the best combat instructor, best warrior I’ve ever met.” Kheper’s eyes met Luke’s again. He was smiling, not a common expression for Law-Shield.

He would have to trust that Doomsday had Antigone well in hand. He nodded back to Kheper. He wasn’t sure what the game was here, but it felt like mark-the-territory. He could respect that.

“Better than Professor Inazuma?” They probably weren’t supposed to hear that whisper, but Ihab, the boy in green and pink, was not all that quiet.

Inazuma?

Kheper fielded the question smoothly. “Far better than Professor Inazuma. As a matter of fact, Sa’Hawk taught Inazuma, back when I was in school.”

Oh! Yes, that would suit Leo’s sense of – whatever it was. Luke smiled at the students. Another two were trickling in, and he could see one more behind them. He was going to have to make this good.

“He was one of my best students,” he allowed. “Certainly one of my most eager.”

The students giggled. Good to know that that still struck a note. Luke was finding Boom-et-al being so very… non-explosive was leaving him on uncertain footing.

“Luke is also,” Kheper took back the conversation smoothly. Luke glanced at him; the boy – professor – nodded again, almost apologetically. “He’s also one of the only full-blooded Mara I have ever met, and the only one I know to still be alive.”

Ah. Well, he was invading a classroom. Luke spread his wings wide, so that the students could study them. “I remember.” He had never had a good “teaching voice;” Mike always referred to his grunt-or-shout tactic. The room was small, though, so he resorted to the tone he used with scared first-year mentorees. “When I was a child, it was rare to see a ha – an Ellehemaei that was not full-blooded. And now, we’re all but extinct.”

He flapped his wings once, just enough to prove they were real. “The Mara are – were, I guess – the protectors. We were stronger, tougher, faster. Warriors.”

“Hunters.” The girl’s voice was very quiet, but it still took all of Luke’s self-control not to flap at her. Instead, he turned to look at her, very mindfully folding his wings until they were at rest.

“The Shenera Oseraei had very similar fae. They called them Hunters – and many people think the two bloodlines are related. Yeah. But the Mara are not Hunters.”

She was not a big girl; she looked younger than her peers, and, still dressed in grey-white-and-black, Luke guessed she probably didn’t have a Mentor yet. “That’s just -” She turned to Kheper.

He shot Luke a quick warning glance over her head. When he answered, Luke noticed his voice was careful and very gentle. “It’s all right. Sa’Hawk knows you didn’t mean any offense, Mara.”

Luke struggled to control a wing-flap. Mara?

Kheper’s cleared throat brought his attention back. “Her name is Mara, Luke, מָרָא. Not māra.”

Luke settled down. He could tell the unfortunately-named girl was getting very upset. “My mistake. Pleased to meet you, Mara. Maybe after class, we could talk more about Those Who Protect?”

“I…” She shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. “If Miss Ascha says it’s okay?”

“I’m sure she will.” Kheper took control of the conversation with a smoothness Luke found himself envying. “And perhaps sa’Hawk could tell the rest of the class a little bit about the Laws of Belonging? We’re studying the first Law of Belonging today.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Aah. Well,” he chuckled nervously. “That would be the one I’ve had the least experience with. It’s been a few years since I’ve been a Child.”

“You have children, don’t you?” Nur tilted her head at him. “I thought all of the Addergoole teachers did.”

“Well. You know quite a bit about the Addergoole staff.” He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. “Yes. I have a few children, and some grandkids. But I’m their father.”

“Professor Inazuma has maternal rights – well, I mean, she’s grown…” Ihab seemed to be infatuated with Leo. Well, he certainly wasn’t the first. Luke wondered if Leofric knew. Or Cynara, for that matter.

“Yeah, but Sigruko was a special case.” Luke looked around the gathering class. “Well. I’ve had enough kids that I know what the First Law of Belonging looks like from a father’s end. I can talk about that. If that’s all right, Professor Aegislaw?”

“Of course.” Kheper bowed to him.

Enough time had passed that Luke could talk about Aleron without pain and anger; by this time, Aleron’s grandchildren, his disreputable grandson Makatza among them, had come and gone from Addergoole. Doug was harder, not because there was pain, but because there was guilt. And Chavva and Icarus – well, those were stories he could tell while feeling his wings show every emotion, and he let them.

When he was done, he bowed to the students, bowed to Kheper, and took his leave, feeling wrung out and, at the same time, happy. He caught Nehara watching him and tucked his wings against his back.

He cleared his throat. “Ah. So, what’s next our our tour?”

“I was thinking about visiting Professor Lily’s class. Aah… Dáirine?”

Luke’s wings twitched. “Dáirine.” He remembered the too-pretty girl: daughter of two troublemakers, raised by a completely different sort of trouble. Ciara’s adopted child. “Ah. Cya would know her through Yoshi.”

“Principal Doomsday knows everyone.” Nehara smiled placidly, but Luke still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was laughing at him. “Would you rather skip her class?”

“No. No, I’d like to see her take on history.”

Nehara paused for a heartbeat. Studying him? Reading him? Luke was an open book and knew it. “This hour is my class – Eighth-Year – and she’s covering the history of the collapse and subsequent rebuilding.”

It sounded like a warning. Luke couldn’t blame the girl for thinking some heads-up was necessary. Dáirine had been a child when the world had ended. What historical perspective…

Humans did it all the time, he reminded himself. “I’d love to see it.”

“Same building, so we don’t have to go far.” She led him out of the classroom and into a narrow-looking hall that was crowded with students. Narrow-seeming, and yet Luke noticed he could probably spread his wings almost to their full width. The floor was wood with throw rugs; the walls were covered in artwork. “It’s…” He searched for a word, and picked one after a while, more Mike’s word than his own. “Cozy.”

“These kids – me, too, when I was that age – this is the first time they’ve ever been away from home. Some of them grew up in enclaves, but some of them were barely holding on to survive. They want to be sure that everyone feels as comfortable as possible, this far away from home.”

“Maybe we should think about that more at Addergoole.” Cozy was never a word he’d heard used to describe that place, at least not without tongue firmly in cheek. “Do you like it? Did it help you be comfortable?”

“I was homesick, of course.” She shrugged elegantly. Mike would love this girl. Luke swallowed the thought and the irrational jealous that it brought forward. “But the kidlings, first, second, third years, most of the fourth and fifths, they’re all in one big house, so you’re never really alone unless you want to be. Cy’Ascha, unofficially.”

That was the second time the name Ascha had come up. “Aceline? sh’Magnolia?”

Nehara raised her eyebrows at him. “I wouldn’t presume to call a teacher by their mother’s name.”

Luke glowered at her, uncowed by her implicit scolding. “I was there when her mother was born.”

“You were there when she was Named, too, weren’t you? Aceline, sa’Water Under the Bridge, is that who you mean?”

There was tartness in her voice that hadn’t been there before. Luke liked it. But his wings still flapped irritably. “Yes,” he grumbled. “Ascha.”

Her voice gentled minutely. “Doomsday is a kid away from home, sa’Hunting Hawk. And you’re the uncle set to check up on the kid. But please remember that while they are wayward children to you, they’re honored mentors and instructors to us.”

Luke’s wings stilled. “How are you so wise, so young?” Are you another Manira, another cuckoo’s egg in the nest? Are you a danger?

Nehara smiled sadly. “I’m cy’Red. It’s quite an education.”

And, he could tell, not the whole answer. That was fine. He nodded his head to her. “So, Aceline is a teacher here?”

“She teaches the younger students, up through their third year. And she lives in the dorm with them. She’s very good at being soothing.”

“She’s always been a good girl.”

Nehara smiled. “Not like her sister, right? I’ve heard the stories. Professor Sweetflower – Magnolia – tells some of the stories.”

Luke bit back a comment. Magnolia shouldn’t have surprised him, not after Aceline. She’d been in love with Howard since she’d Kept him, and Howard was inseparable from Cynara. Dáirine, Ascha, Kheper, Magnolia – how far did Cya’s reach extend?

“And after Professor Lily’s class, maybe I can show you some of the other areas.” Nehara kept talking as if they’d never segued into the conversation on Aceline. “The dojo-and-dance-studio, of course. Then there’s the kid’s hall, some of the cy’ree dormitories -”

“You dorm by cy’ree?” That was so traditional it had dust and leather bindings. Luke was surprised Cynara had come up with it – or had she?

“In the middle years, yes. And then the last year or two, we dorm with our crew. I could show you my apartment, too.”

He had to be imagining the suggestion there. She sounded so innocent, so calm. There was no way she was… Luke coughed.

“I’d like that. Seeing around the place. It all seems so… tidy.”

“Well.” Now she just sounded amused. Luke found he could live with her being amused at him. “sa’Red Doomsday did plan it. And if there’s one thing everyone knows about Red Doomsday…”

Luke cleared his throat. He found that he didn’t know the end of that sentence, and that made him uncomfortable. Nehara clearly expected him to fill in the end, like an in-joke he had never been part of.

“Lozenge?” She opened a small wooden box filled with what he hoped were cough drops of some sort. “The air here does that to some people.”

“Thanks.” Luke took a cough drop and the excuse. “You were saying…?”

“Oh. If there’s one thing everyone knows about Red Doomsday, it’s that she’s prepared for everything.” Nehara shrugged dismissively. “I guess the joke works better if you know her.”

Doomsday.

“Doomsday prepper.” Luke coughed it out around the cough drop, which turned out to have hot pepper flakes in it. “Prepper.“

“Well, yes.” Nehara’s innocent look was so studied, it had to be fake. “Everyone knows that… don’t they?”

Written to @Inventrix’s commissioned continuation.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/838972.html. You can comment here or there.

Captive of the Night Witch, a story for the Dungeon Call (@Inventrix)

Oct12

The Night Witch was, everyone knew, evil and dark and murderous and, above all, perhaps, terrifying. She ate people alive, it was said; she had paved the walk to her lair with the bones of her victims, many ground into powder over the years – decades – she had resided there. She held the entire small nation in terror, and worked great evil from her mountainside abode. The trees were twisted, it was said, for miles in every direction.

Up that mountainside, now, Candor was being dragged, past the trees, twisted and stunted and very very creepy, past the caves where the monsters were said to live, down the path of bone, which was, indeed, white and in some places powdered. They had him chained hand and foot, tricep and thigh, until he was more of a ball of chain than a Hero. They had him on a sled, dragging him up the bone path, past the black trees with their blood-red leaves. And they were taking him as a prisoner to the Night Witch.

And Candor was smiling.

Nobody could see it, of course. He was gagged – nobody would take one of his kind prisoner without a gag – and his face was pressed against his knees. The smile was more of a figure of speech than a physical expression, but Candor had stopped struggling some miles back, feigning tiredness but really just not wanting to risk breaking free too soon. He’d felt a chain wiggle, the last time he gave it a good shake. And his people were known for being strong. They should have used better chains.

The path crunched under the sled, and, though he could see very little, he could see the tibia of some woodland creature. She ate her prey alive, but that was no human bone. The minions dragging him were panting. The hill up to the Night Witch’s cave was very steep.

Candor waited. They were almost there, and, when he was brought to the Night Witch, he knew, even bound like this, his plan would work.

The sled stopped. He could see nothing but the path, but he heard a door open. He heard the murmur of proud-minion-explanation. He heard the measured footsteps that had to be the Night Witch, and he saw the white leather toes of her boots.

Candor waited. The feet paused. Candor knew the moment she realized what she was seeing, the moment she recognized the tattoos and scars on his back.

“You?!” It was a gasp, from the Witch who was unshakable.

Candor smiled. Hello, darling.

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt.

This may be fae apoc.

If you’d like to see more of this story, there is definitely more to be written! Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:

We are as of this posting, $17 from three more prompters getting an extra 500-word story, and $35 from a rug for my cave!



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Visiting Doomsday, a story of Addergoole/Doomsday Academy

Aug29

This is written as @inventrix’s commissioned continuation of this drabble posted on the Addergoole Facebook (also the first ~100 words of this piece).

Luke folded his wings against his back and tried not to stare.

When Cynara had come to them, to Regine, saying “I built a school,” he hadn’t know what to expect. Hell, when she’d started building the CITY, he hadn’t know what he’d find.

What he saw was… children, and teens, moving from building to building, smiling, their grey-and-black-and-white uniforms adorned with splashes of color and their interactions adorned with what sounded like playful rivalry.

He’d come anticipating a mess to be dealt with, or a boot camp to be… handled.

He didn’t quite know what to think about this.

~

Luke had first visited the city back when it was nothing more than four houses and five half-done walls. Cynara’s grandchildren had been worried about her – for the first time in their lifetimes, she hadn’t taken a Kept that year. And she was wandering off…

It wasn’t that fae didn’t get senile, but they didn’t often do so that young. Still, halfbreeds were halfbreeds, and Boom wasn’t exactly known for their stability in the first place. Luka had gone to check up on Cynara, both because her grandchildren had asked, and because a more-unstable-than-usual Boom was something they would need to know about, before it… ah, exploded.

And found Cynara building a city. She was, as far as he could tell, building it mostly with Workings, staring at the ground and willing up vast walls a foot at a time. It had to be exhausting work. It had to be miserably boring. And yet he watched her go on for hours.

She didn’t acknowledge his presence until she stopped for a break, and, even then, she poured two cups of water instead of one, and held out up in his direction.

When he went home, he told Regine & the grandchildren that everything was fine, and meant it.

~

The second time he’d visited, Regine had just turned Cynara down. This time, he found the walls complete, many of the buildings inside finished, and a bustling population. He also found guards at the gate who were quite clear that he would land and walk in like a normal person, or be shot down.

Since he was pretty certain that they could and would do it, he landed, and, rather than coming in, wrote out a message for Cynara, called Red Doomsday (and what had her Mentor been thinking, with a name like that? Red Doomsday? Might as well have called her Explosion Waiting to Happen.

Of course, they’d all been waiting for that explosion for a very, very long time…)

The message was short, but it said what it needed to: Addergoole will not interfere. I’d like to come visit, if you’ll allow it.

It was her home, after all. He went home and told Regine there was nothing to worry about. He wasn’t sure, this time, if he meant it or not.

When her reply had not come immediately, Luke had begun to doubt his choice. He’d chewed it over with Mike – who had a bias – with Laurel – who had far less of one – and with Mystral – whose bias was at least different.

The consensus, inasmuch as you could get those three to agree on anything, was give it time.

Luke had given it a year. Then the letter had arrived from Cynara: You are welcome to come, but it would make me more comfortable if you would wait one more year.

She was hiding something. There was no reason to send a letter like that unless she was covering up something.

Luke had written back: Then I will see you in a year. He’d told Regine that there was nothing to worry about, lying through his teeth.

~

Cynara had sent him an engraved invitation, which showed up fifty-one weeks to the day since her last letter had arrived. An actual engraved invitation, the curly font requesting the honor of his presence for a “Demonstration Day” at Doomsday Academy.

Luke had responded on the enclosed RSVP card. He had added a note to the back, in his own words – tempting as it was to borrow Mike for the fancy phrasing – telling Director Cynara that he would be honored to visit. When he passed it over to her very-formal-looking (and very-young-looking) courier, he suppressed all concern and gave the boy a friendly smile and a tip.

And here he was, standing at the entrance to Doomsday Academy, under the arch that probably-coincidentally was too narrow to allow his wings to unfurl, waiting for his tour guard.

“Sa’Hunting Hawk.” Cynara looked – not all that different from forty years ago, as long as you stopped at the superficial. Her face was still young, but her posture and her expression were a lot more sure of herself.

Luke was surprised – although he probably shouldn’t have been – to see that she had her Mask down, the fluffy mink-like tail and ears of her Change visible for all to see. And she was smiling, although Luke knew better than to read anything at all into that.

“Jae’Red Doomsday.” He nodded politely to her. “Your city is quite lovely.”

“You’ve hardly scratched the surface.” She gestured through the stone arch towards her school. “But I do thank you for coming. Would you like to see the rest?”

“Yes, please.” He could already see at least seventeen ways in which the plans Cynara had provided to Regine had been altered. “I’m surprised you’re willing to let me in here.”

“Well, there’s always the chance that you have a photographic memory and, well, being a Mara, I assume you’re a tactical genius.” She turned a bright smile on him. “I chose to decide that you were unlikely to attack the school.”

Luke blinked. He considered the issue, thought about asking a question, discarded it, and then decided that he probably needed to know. “Do you do threat assessment on all your visitors?”

“Don’t you?” She changed the subject before Luke could answer. “All right, this is the campus complex. If it looks like a series of houses in a residential neighborhood, that’s on purpose.”

When he had told Feu Drake where he was going, the enigmatic Law Professor had asked Luke two questions.

Do you remember yourself as a teenager?

He did, of course. The Revolutionary War tended to stick even in immortals’ minds.

Do you remember yourself as a grandfather?

“Over and over again.” Chavva and Icarus had kids now, after all. His granddaughter Griselda’s children had children.

Feu Drake had simply smiled. Looking at the set of Cynara’s ears, Luke suddenly remembered that her grandchildren, too, had children.

Luke cleared his throat. “It doesn’t look too different from the rest of the city here. A couple of the houses are bigger, maybe, but I saw houses that big coming through town.”

“Exactly.” The smile she shot him was the you-bright-student-you type of expression. Luke struggled to keep his wings from flapping.

This was a quiz, then, was it? “Your plans have the school in the tower there. And it does say ‘Doomsday’ on it.”

“It makes a nice big shiny target, doesn’t it?” She was enjoying this, the little minx… mink. “This is the Dining Hall. We’re running about seventy students, so it doesn’t need to be big. Staff lives upstairs, and the gardening club handles the gardens behind it.”

At first glance, the building looked like a church – giving it a reason for the size, Luke supposed. But it was a bright yellow in color, and its tower-like front entrance was not, technically, a steeple.

“And here’s your student guide.” Cynara turned to gesture at a lovely young woman. The girl, nearly an adult, was stunning in a way Luke had seen rarely since his childhood. “This is Nehara cy’Doomsday. Nehara, this is Luca Hunting-Hawk, a former teacher of mine.”

Cy’Drake, Luke suddenly remembered, liked to play gamed. He bowed politely to the girl. “Pleased to meet you, miss.”

Next: Whilst at Doomsday…

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/796421.html. You can comment here or there.

Going to Learn How to be A Samurai: continuation of Doomsday Academy for the Giraffe Call/@inventrix

Aug28

To [personal profile] inventrix‘s commissioned continuation of Gonna Be a Samurai.

Austin was going to be a samurai.

He was going to a samurai school, and he was going to have a samurai teacher, and he was going to learn how to be a samurai.

“It says in the letter that they gives you a full education, Austin. Math, science, history, literature, life skills. I wonder what they mean by life skills?” His mother shook her head. “Nothing about being a samurai.”

“But you saw him! You saw Professor Inazuma!”

“And I saw Director Doomsday. I must say, that’s an ominous name for the head of a school.”

“Wasn’t there a note on that, too?” The welcome letter had come with quite a stack of welcome-information, including a small bio on each of the teachers. “She was… what’s a prepper?”

“Something from the before world. But that’s okay, she’s probably from the before world, too.” Austin’s mother shook her head yet again. “Are you sure you want to do this, Austin? I don’t think it’s going to be all samurai training.”

“I don’t care! I’m going to be a samurai! Please, mom? Please? I’ll work extra hard all summer!”

“Well, let me talk to your father…”

Austin was going to be a samurai.

He looked at dismay at the uniforms available. “But what about hakama and kimono?” Kilts and pants and plain white shirts were so boring. Especially compared to Professor Inazuma’s clothes… “Do I have to wear boring clothes?”

“Austin, they’ve nice clothes. Don’t be rude.”

“We have kimono.” The nice lady behind the uniform counter smiled at both of them. It took Austin a moment to realize that that was Principal Doomsday, the head of the school. The weasel ears had thrown him off for a moment.

So had the strange smile. She continued, as if unaware of the panicked surprise on Austin’s face. “That’s one of the things I actually did prepare for. Here are your kimono,” she added a hefty stack of black, just like Professor Inazuma’s, to Austin’s pile of uniform clothes. “And Miss Ascha is waiting for you over there.”

Austin was going to be a samurai.

He was going to be a samurai, even if he had to take classes in math and reading – some of the kids here couldn’t even read! – and how plants grew, and poetry. Even if he had to share a room with girls – and other boys, including the ones that couldn’t read. Even if everyone else thought this school was about growing up to be a teacher or learning how to be a doctor or even, in Sianna’s case, a silly ballerina. (Were there even ballerinas anymore? At least they knew teachers still existed!)

He was going to be a samurai, after eight years of classes and then, Professor Inazuma told him, maybe more classes still. But he could start learning right away, not just the math and reading and farming and stuff, but really learning.

“I’m going to be a samurai,” he informed Sianna. And he got to start today!

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/794780.html. You can comment here or there.

Teaser – Luke Visits Doomsday

Aug26

Cynara had sent him an engraved invitation, which showed up fifty-one weeks to the day since her last letter had arrived. An actual engraved invitation, the curly font requesting the honor of his presence for a “Demonstration Day” at Doomsday Academy.

(to @inventrix’s commissioned continuation of this drabble on the Addergoole Facebook Page.)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/789924.html. You can comment here or there.

Gonna Be a Samurai, a story of Doomsday Academy for the Giraffe Call

Aug22

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt, although I didn’t get to the catboy part yet! O-O

Using Cynara (Prof. Doomsday) and Leofric (Prof. Inazuma)’s son’s icon, since I don’t actually have an icon for either of them.

Set about 5 years into Doomsday.

Austin was going to be a samurai.

He had known since he was five years old and that wandering samurai had come through town, killing the monster and rescuing Austin and his little sister.

He had known despite his mother’s insistence that one crazy man in funny armor did not mean that samurai really still existed. He had known even when his older brothers – 6 and 8 years older than him – told him that he couldn’t be anything like that, that the best he could hope for was to be a farmer, like his (not their) father. He had known despite his father spending every day of every week teaching him how to be a proper farmer, how to be a land-lord in, his father said, the old sense.

He read books on samurai, first from the local library, then, when he was old enough, he convinced his parents to let him to go the next town over on a trade caravan. They had a bigger library, salvaged from the ruins of several towns.

His older brothers went to school, but he and his sister, their parents said, were going to stay at home, where it was safe, where they could learn how yo be proper farmers. Austin kept reading – now the scroungers knew to look out for books for him – and kept learning. He was going to be a samurai some day.

When the letter came from the Academy, Austin was unsure. He was going to be a samurai farmer – what did he need with school.

His mother and father were unsure – he was going to be a farmer. What did he need with school? Besides, his mother had gotten her fill of boarding schools. And Austin was barely ten years old.

And then Professors Inazuma and Doomsday walked into their town. Looking over the blonde professor – Inazuma – in his kimono, Austin knew he was going to Doomsday.

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Silent Song

Mar20

To Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt and @Inventrix’s request, the second half of a continuation of Porter Needs a Girlfriend (LJ), after Siren Song (LJ).

Porter fell.

He’d been pretty sure he was going to, but knowing you were going to and suddenly falling were different things.

He flailed, kicking his legs and shouting. The floor seemed a long way down. Why were the levels so far apart in this school? What if he broke something…

He landed while he was still worrying, both feet hitting the floor by some freak chance, and stumbled backwards until he fell into something.

He was… on a soft carpet, surrounded by bookshelves. In the Library, then? He slapped both hands over his mouth. He’d been shouting in the Library! He was going to catch hell for sure!

What was worse… he’d fallen into the Library. In the middle of the Library. If someone didn’t find him, he was going to end up late for dinner. Late for Timora’s mystery dinner date with hopefully-a-Ninth-Cohort.

And, really, to be pragmatic, he could be trapped in here forever, or until he found a door or a Door that got him out. Priorities.

A sign appeared in front of his nose. Please remember to remain quiet in the Library. The font was frilly, and the little sign was bordered with little purple flowers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just…”

The sign vanished, and another appeared. Please refrain from lewd activity in the Library.

“Wait, what?” he asked in a hurried hiss. “I…” He was leaning against something, wasn’t he? He twisted to look behind him. “…Oh. Sorry.” The statue in whose embrace he’d been cuddled looked as embarrassed as Porter felt. “You should get her some clothes. Look, um,” the signs were from the Librarian, right? “Um… sa’Librarian?” That might work… please? “I didn’t mean to drop in like this, but I’m a little lost…”

A third sign appeared. Please refrain from becoming lost in the Library.

“I’m trying, I really am, but there was this Siren, so I dove overboard, and overboard happened to be here…” He flailed. “I open Doors, you see. But this place doesn’t come with a decent floor plan.”

The next sign that appeared was hand-written, still florid but without the decorations. “You open… Doors. Show me. This way.” And then a sign with an arrow.

“I, uh…” His dinner was getting further and further away. “Yes… ma’am? Sa’Librarian. What do you want me to show you?” He wandered in the direction of the arrow, avoiding the eyes of the statue. “Hunh. History. I’ve never found this section before.”

A sign appeared: a flower-wreathed stop sign. Porter stopped obediently, hoping that, somehow, this would lead to dinner. Somehow.

He was standing in front of a section of blank wall, about the size of a doorway, something he’d never before seen in the Library. The arrow appeared again, pointing at the wall.

“You want me to open this? All right, I can do that. I hope,” he added in a mutter. “But do you know what’s on the other side?”

The arrow simply pointed again and, sighing, Porter opened a Door and stepped through.

Next: Iridium Hole, LJ

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/303624.html. You can comment here or there.

Siren Song

Mar16

To Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt and @Inventrix’s request, the first half of a continuation of Porter Needs a Girlfriend (LJ).

Other than 4500 words on Addergoole-proper, this is all I’ve written in days. It feels weird. O_O Yeah. I’ve been THAT sick.

It wasn’t that Porter minded his friends’ “help” in getting him a girlfriend. After all, he knew that he’d need to get a girlfriend, or at least someone cooperative in baby-making, sometime in his four years at Addergoole. Possibly twice, even.

It was just that they – although he suspected Timora, from the amused, wicked looks she was giving him – kept picking such imposing girls, girls that didn’t seem to smile much, girls that, in some cases, didn’t really seem to even like guys.

He was pretty sure that Timora was trying to mess with his head, he just didn’t know why.

He was also hopeful, because it looked like these dinner dates were working their way down through the Cohorts, which meant, if he was going to have a “surprise” date tonight, it would probably be a Ninth Cohort. And, aside from Timora, none of the Ninth Cohorts he’d met were really at all scary.

“Hey, Kitty, Kitty.” Too late, Porter looked up, realizing that, lost in thought and hurrying to get home for the theoretical Ninth Cohort Dinner Date, he hadn’t been paying attention.

Lots of people called him Kitty. Only one person did it in that unctuous tone of voice, like she was grooming his name.

“Tess.” And because she and her crewmate were never far apart, “Lucian.”

“Hey, Kitty.” Lucian leaned against the wall behind Porter. “Have you had a chance to think about our invitation?”

“Your…” He looked between the two of them, Tess’s green eyes boring into him, Lucian’s close-winged pose deceptively closed, making him look harmless. “Oh,” he smiled, and choked out a little laugh. “I thought that was a joke. I mean, I already have a crew…” And even if Sylvia runs everything, I trust her.

“Ah, but we could really use your power, pretty kitty.”

“So you want me for my doors, not my drawers.” In a way, he was relieved. Tess was a very frightening woman when she wanted something, and Lucian was little better.

Like that laugh. He chuckled throatily behind Porter. “We wouldn’t mind both, would we, Tess?”

Eep. Feeling like he was being eaten with their eyes, he cast around for the quickest Door surface. There was under his feet – but that could have unpleasant consequences. You never knew how far away the floor would be, for one, and it was hard to close the door after yourself.

“Mmm. There’s not much I’d mind with him,” Tess agreed. A quick glance told porter that the scales running down both sides of her neck were shifting color, from “safe” white-and-green to deep red. Her voice was taking on that funny tone to it, like she had a reverb going, and Porter knew what that meant.

“No,thank you.” Sailors of legend had dived over the sides of ships to get to sirens. Porter dived through the floor to escape this one.

He pulled the door upwards, grabbed the handle that was created when he did that, and swung down onto the third floor by the handle, yanking the door shut with his weight.

And then, of course, the doorknob vanished.

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