Tag Archive | prompter: rix

At Asta’s Funeral, a story of the Aunt Family for LadiesBingo

Oct1

This fills the “Funerals and Wakes ” square on my [community profile] ladiesbingo card and was prompted by [personal profile] rix_scaedu. It is set in The Aunt Family setting, but with new characters.

616 words by http://www.wordcounter.net/

Estella had only been married for a year, but she had, having grown up down the street, known Randal’s family for far longer than that – she had, unlike some women to marry into this family, prior warning. With Randal’s family – or, more accurately, Randal’s mother’s family – you needed that prior warning.

Estella could tell, looking around the church, who had that warning and who hadn’t. Many of these women were strangers to her; Randal’s family was large, and only truly came together like this for weddings and funerals. Asta, Estella knew, hadn’t been well-loved or much-befriended, but she had been an Aunt. Every family member who could make it would be here, probably three times as many as had made it to Estella and Randal’s wedding, thank heavens.

And the priest had that look on his face that they so often did when faced with the family. It was sort of like someone had made him eat a lemon and then told him, afterwards, that he’d be given blessings in heaven and a big fat wallet, all with the taste of citrus still in his mouth.

One row forward and a couple seats over, Estella picked out a no-prior-warning woman, clinging her three children – two boys and a girl, all in Sunday best – close to her as if terrified that one of the children would misbehave. She didn’t need to worry. In the family, children were forgiven so much more than, say, daughters-in-law.

Estella glanced behind her first – there were still plenty of family members trickling in. The priest would be grumpy, but he would wait until at least all of the older generations were seated, at least if he liked preaching in this town. There was still time.

She leaned forward, mindful of her own round belly, until she could speak to the likely-cousin-in-law without being overheard. “Did you ever meet Asta?” It was best to start with simple things, things they could pretend were normal.

The woman jumped. “Ah! No, no I mean, she was at our wedding, and I saw her at a funeral a couple years past, but I never was introduced. I’m not part of that branch – oh, you probably know that.”

“Not really.” Estella used her most reassuring smile. “The family is big enough that you lose track pretty easily, and I only married in a year ago. I’m still learning my husband’s first cousins, much less the second cousins and uncles and… Aunts.”

The woman shuddered. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

Estella gave that one some thought. “Which part?” she tried.

“All of it!” She’d started out quietly enough, but her voice got a little loud as she went. “The ‘Aunts,’ and all the superstition, and the way the old women…”

“Easy, easy.” Estella patted the woman’s shoulder gingerly. “Look, here is probably not the place.”

The woman flushed and, less surreptitiously than she probably thought, looked around the sanctuary. “I – yeah. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I know the feeling.” This really, really, wasn’t the place. But. “My name’s Estella.”

“Jocelyn.”

“Look, Jocelyn, why don’t you give me your number, and then we can – I don’t know, talk, get together for coffee? Let the kids have a play date.” If the woman was still that freaked out after three kids… “You look like you could use someone to talk to.” And the family would do better if someone soothed Jocelyn – especially before her daughters were of age.

“Oh, that would be so nice. Someone who knows all the crazy and doesn’t buy into it. Yes, thank you.”

Oh, dear. Estella mostly managed to hide her wince: crazy? She definitely needed to talk to this one. “My pleasure.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/817313.html. You can comment here or there.

Samurai have friends, a continuation of Doomsday for the Giraffe Call (@rix_Scaedu)

Sep25

This is written to Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of the “Samurai” thread:
Gonna be a Samurai
Gonna Learn how to be a Samurai and
Being a Samurai Takes Work
If You Want to be a Samurai…
Gonna be a Samurai… Kitty?.

Fourth Year.
Austin was going to be cy’Lightning Blade, of course. That had been a foregone conclusion since he first met Professor Inazuma, and growing ears and a tail (siiiigh) just cemented what he’d already known.

“You should keep on studying farming with Professors Sweetflower and Lily, of course.” Principal Doomsday was taking care of Austin’s official move from cy’kidlings to cy’Lightning Blade, including the physical move from the kids’ dorm to the cy’Lightning house. “And don’t forget to make time for your friends. Remember – sa’Bulldozer, sa’Rainbow, sa’Lightning, sa’Vengeance and I were all in different cy’rees when we were in school, and we are still crew after all this time.”

His friends? Austin found himself blinking owlishly at the principal. “Sweetbriar’s probably going to go cy’Lightning Blade, too.”

The principal said nothing. Austin thought hard and fast. “Sianna. Sianna’s not – Sianna’s not a fighter, she’s a dancer.” Why hadn’t he ever been listening? “Sianna’s not going to go cy’Lightning Blade, is she?” She would probably go… cy’Lily? Or cy’Sweetflower. Who… were his secondary instructors for farming.

“Austin, were you listening?” Principal Doomsday leaned against the wall and huffed at him. “You’re not changing Mentors to be with Sianna. For one, then you wouldn’t be in a cy’ree with Sweetbriar. For another, you wouldn’t be happy as cy’Lily, in my opinion. And for a third, it’s a small school. You’ll still have plenty of time together.”

“But not sitting up all night talking…” Austin slapped a hand over his mouth. “I mean…” The words came out, unsurprisingly, muffled.

Principal Doomsday laughed. “You’re not the only one, I assure you. I told you, I was a student once myself. All of the staff were.”

“Not here though, right?” A change of subject, yay. Austin remembered to move his hands away from his mouth.

“No, long ago and not all that far away, in a place called Addergoole. I think your mother and your older siblings went there…?”

Not the nicest change of subject. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, that’s what Mom said. Somewhere underground? She never really wanted to talk about it.”

“Most Addergoole grads don’t. But we were all kids once. We remember.” The principal patted Austin’s shoulder. “You’ll still have time for your friends, and I’m sure Professor Leo – Professor Inazuma – isn’t going to say no to the occasional sleepover. Sianna’s a nice girl.”

“So’s Sweetbriar.” The words came out fast. Sweetbriar wasn’t nice, not really. She was sharp and prickly and sometimes temperamental, already deadly and altogether hard to read when she wanted to be.

And… and Principal Doomsday was smiling at him, no, grinning, why had he never noticed that minks had sharp teeth, help…

“Sweetbriar is an interesting girl. She’s a good friend, from what I can tell, and someone good to have your back in a fight. Of course, I’m biased.”

“Biased? Ma’am?” She was going cy’Lightning Blade, right, not cy’Doomsday? He didn’t want to lose both of his friends.

“She’s my granddaughter. One of several, of course – but she’s still my granddaughter.” The principal smiled again, and this time it seemed far less dangerous. “You have good taste in friends, Austin. You’re going to be fine.”

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Gonna Be a Samurai… Kitty? A continuation of Doomsday for the Giraffe Call (@rix_Scaedu)

Sep6

This is written to Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of the “Samurai” thread:
Gonna be a Samurai
Gonna Learn how to be a Samurai and
Being a Samurai Takes Work
If You Want to be a Samurai….

Fourth Year

“Austin, you don’t have to fake a headache. Seriously. If you don’t want to come to the recital, just say so.”

“No! …No.” Austin had burrowed as far under the blankets as he could go, but he had to peek out so that Sianna could see he was sincere. The light seemed to stab at his eyes, but Sianna had to understand. “No, I promise-”

“You’re not supposed to promise.”

“Not unless you really, really mean it. I promise I really do have a headache. I – I wanted to see you dance.”

“You see me dance all the time Austin what’s going on with your head?”

“Not like – what? My head hurts. I told you that.” He was seeing spots, which had to be why he didn’t dodge Sianna grabbing him. “Ow, ow, my ears… wait.” He blinked up at his friend. “What?”

“You’re Changing, it’s not fair, it’s awesome, I mean, but it’s not fair. Come on, what did Miss Ascha say about Changes?” She finally released her grip on – on his ears? It still didn’t feel right, but those things at the top of his head had to be his ears. At least that explained why everything got louder when Sianna let go. “Come on. You’ve got to go see Nurse ’Adne.”

“What? No, it’s just a headache.” Samurai didn’t need to worry about a little pain, did they? What would Professor Inazuma say? “I’ll be fine.”

“Austin!” Dancers had strong arms; Sianna grabbed his arm and yanked. “Come on. You’re going to see Nurse Meliadne. Now.”

Having a tail was totally going to get in the way of being a samurai. Austin stared miserably at Nurse Meliadne’s three-way mirror. “I have a tail.”

“You have a tail, yes. It looks as if it’s some sort of cat, maybe a domestic cat, a house cat.”

“A cat?” Austin spun around again. “Not even a tiger or a lion or something cool, I’m turning into a house cat?”

“Not ‘turning into,’ not really. You’re going to get some physical characteristics of a cat – the tail, the ears, as you can see, maybe claws. And you’ll get some – I’ve heard them called emotional characteristics. Some people call it ‘the animal.’ For some, it will be something like wanting to take a lot of naps, or chasing small objects – or prey, so I’d watch yourself around mouse-like Changes. Or an urge to mark your territory – be careful with that, or Miss Ascha will be very irritated with you.” The nurse smiled.

“Oh, good.” Austin wrinkled his nose. “So I might act like an idiot, and I’m all messed up for being a samurai.”

“Why do you say that?” Nurse Meliadne settled into her chair and put her chin in her hands. “After all, cats are known for their balance.”

“Who’s going to take me seriously looking like this?”

“Meliadne, I heard Austin was Changing… Ah, there you are!”

Oh, no, it was Professor Inazuma. Austin hid his face in his hands, but couldn’t help peeking out to see the professor’s expression.

He was… smiling. Almost grinning, really.

“A cat change? Great! Now we get to figure out your balance with that tail.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/804011.html. You can comment here or there.

Safety, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call (@rix-Scaedu)

Sep3

To [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned Continuation of Wildlife Refuge

“Why did you decide to go with the whole… ah… half-humanoid theme?” The faun-showing had been enough to get Capri in the second gate, as a temporary member of the Refuge. The walls looked sound, and the people inside – none Masked, so Capri, pants back up, also stayed sans Mask – seemed relaxed, so it was possible that either the Fomoire hadn’t made it this far south, or they just couldn’t get into the refuge. For the moment, Capri was safe.

Even more of a relief, the giraffe-taur at the gate hadn’t cared what else Capri had under the pants, as long as the legs were – as they were – animal. Capri had gotten a bracelet that was supposed to be a gate-pass, and then the ’taur had called over an Urmahlullu, Holly, to act as tour guide.

The parts of Holly that were human – her torso, her arms, and her head – were beautiful, with olive-brown skin and long black hair. The rest of her, the lioness body and legs, was… very differently beautiful.

Not like Capri could talk, not with the lower half of a goat. “I mean… I’m not sure who decided, but I guess the sign at the door is pretty clear.”

Holly twisted her whole human torso to look at him, while the lion legs kept walking forward. “Have you lived among humans?”

“Yeah? Of course?” Capri found that slowing was inevitable. Something in the brain couldn’t cope with someone going two directions at once.

“Then you understand how cruel they can be.”

“I… yes.” Capri had encountered cruel humans, although generally the half-goat-half-human part had not been their first target.

“You have lived among purebreeds?”

“What, me?” Capri swallowed a laugh. “Just ’cause they think the fauns and satyrs are descended from the Daeva doesn’t mean they want to be our friend.”

“Then you definitely understand how cruel they can be.”

“There are other half-breeds, though…” Capri could already see where this was going.

“And they, too, have their cruel moments. Or would you tell me that they do not?”

“No, no. I haven’t met any group yet that isn’t sometimes cruel.” Capri thought fast. “And especially ’taurs, it’s got to be tricky getting people to understand.” I skid on linoleum, thanks had been hard enough for Capri to thump into people’s heads.

“So here we are.” Holly gestured around the complex. “A place where being half-human, half-beast, and entirely Ellehemaei is understood. Cabins that are built to accommodate us. A no-taunting rule strictly enforced. Meal schedules that allow for issues such as four stomachs or a hibernatory pattern. This is a refuge.” She sounded so beatific, Capri expected to see a halo over her head. “And we can truly be safe and protected here.”

“From, ah, things like the monste-”

“We don’t use that word here.”

“Of course not. Things like the – can I say Nedetakaei?” If that one was out, Capri better think about running, and hoping ’taurs couldn’t run faster than fauns.

“That’s acceptable.”

“Nedetakaei, then, the creations the returned gods left behind, human hunters…”

The look the Urmahlullu was giving Capri was… worrisome. “We’re safe here.” Something about the way she said it rang of finality.

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There Are Always Choices

Sep2

After And We Are Not Monsters.

The girl called Rohanna did not take well to the collar.

Viatrix had sympathy for that. Nobody in their house had ever taken well to submission and, to the girl, they were the enemy. They had stolen her from her crew at hawthorn-point.

What she did not have was tolerance. “No.” She knew she was getting sharp, and could not manage to soften her tone. “No, what did I say?”

Rohanna snarled. “If I washed the floor I didn’t have to wash the dishes.”

“Try again, little mage.”

“Don’t call me that!” Rohanna swung back from Via’s hand. “If I cleaned the floor… well… I didn’t have to wash the dishes.”

“Better.” This time, Via caught Rohanna’s collar. “So. Floor again, or dishes. Your choice.”

~

The boy – not a boy, the Kept – named Kavan didn’t know quite what to do with, about, or for Baram.

It was mutual. Baram found that the slender fae with the fragile-looking body brought out memories, and he’d never been very comfortable with the sort of memories he was getting now. He found that the not-kid brought out a protective urge, and for the first time that he could functionally remember, the urge was meet, right, and by the Law. And he found that the little Kept frustrated the living shit out of him, in large part by being terrified.

“Your choice,” he repeated. Again. “My bed or the couch-bed.”

“Whatever my master wants.” Kavan stared at the ground

“Your master. Wants you to choose.”

~

The one called Ardell could be made to see sense.

The other one, the one named Delaney, was rabid. She hissed, spat and swore, none of it in any way useful. It seemed she knew the Boss, and wanted the Boss to help them. Everything else was irrelevant.

So Jaelie spoke to Ardell. “The Boss is busy, cleaning up after the people you led here.”

“I knew you could handle them.” The man was insufferably smug. “I knew Baram could handle them. He’s as tough as a truck.”

“Tougher. But you brought them to our door, and that causes problems.”

Delaney said something. Jaelie watched Ardell. “So. We’re gonna need oaths, or we’re gonna need to take information from your mind. Your choice.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/799051.html. You can comment here or there.

Wildlife Refuge, a story of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call

Aug27

To [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt

“Let me see.”

The gate-keeper had four legs, which wasn’t the weirdest things Capri had seen on this trip. The fact that they were giraffe legs was kind of interesting, at least.

“See?” Capri made the nothing-to-hide gesture, jacket held wide open. “I left my weapons at the front gate, as instructed.” And if that wasn’t an uncomfortably vulnerable feeling, Capri didn’t know what was.

“Drop your pants and your Mask.”

Oh, that was.

“Excuse me?”

“You saw the sign on the front gate, didn’t you?”

It had been written in Old Tongue. Capri had gotten maybe one word out of seven. “Yes.” One of the words had been half-man or maybe half-human. That could mean a lot of things, all of which applied to Capri.

“So, it’s a wildlife refuge.” The… centaur? pawed the ground with one hoof. “Satyrs, fauns, minotaurs, centuars, griffins… you get the idea. Gotta be half-human, half animal, to walk in here. Or fly.”

“Ah.” Now that was a meaning Capri hadn’t thought of. “Right. So, you want me to drop my pants…”

“Well, if your upper half is animal, taking your shirt off will work, too.”

“I don’t suppose you’d settle for just seeing my ankles…”

“What, are you shy? Everyone drops trou. I mean, everyone who wears pants. I, obviously, didn’t have that problem.”

Shy. “Well. It’s just that… yeah. I’m shy.” Capri gave up and dropped Mask and trou both. “Also, faun.”

At least the fur covered almost everything.

More: Safety

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And We Are Not Monsters

Aug19

First in this story: Unwelcome Guests
Previous: The Clean-Up

1016 words, to Rix’s commissioned continuation.

“Come.” Viatrix led the her new Kept into the back yard, murmuring what she thought of as “Addergoole Standard Kept Rules” as she went.

She didn’t look at the girl until they reached the stone circle that, in some other owner’s time, had been a back patio and outdoor kitchen. She didn’t need to; the way the orders were spun, there was little the girl could do.

When she reached the center of the circle, then, she turned. “Kneel.” A Word awoke the fire in the grill. “Give me your wrists.”

Her Kept did as she was told, although she was clearly fighting it. “Mistress… bitch.” She forced the word out with a snarl.

Viatrix found herself grinning. “Yes. Both of those. What name are you called?”

“They Called me Red Mage, but my father named me Rohanna.” She held her wrists out, but her hands were trembling. “What are you going to do to me…. you bitch?”

The swearing was twisted out of her mouth, forced out around heavy breathing and eyes that were wider than they ought to be. Via grabbed both wrists in one hand.

“You’re Mine for the next year. I want to be sure you don’t forget it.”

She could see the moment the girl’s eyes landed on her own wrists, on brand she had never bothered to heal. “You…”

“We’ve all done our time.” She muttered a Working that would shut off the pain, and made the branding in one quick motion. “And we are not monsters.”

~
“This way.” Baram led the boy into the house, pausing only to knock the safe-knock on the basement door. Aly wouldn’t thank him if he didn’t let her out of there as soon as possible. She was almost as good with kids as he was.

“My room.” He had the biggest room in the house, the biggest bed. It was, after all, his cave. “Yours, for six months.”

The boy fell to his knees again, his hands tucked behind his back this time. “Sir.”

It reminded Baram, uncomfortably, of the people in the trap-basement, of the time at school. “Get – no-.” He sat down on his bed with a thump. “I don’t need you kneeling. I don’t need you sirring me.”

“Sir?” The boy’s eyes went wide & he slapped both hands over his mouth. His “sorry” was muffled, what showed of his expression terrified.

Baram growled. “Come here… shit.” The boy was skittering over without getting to his feet. “Fine. Damnit.” He looked down at the boy, who looked terrified. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy glanced up, swallowed, and looked back down at the floor. “Sir?”

“I didn’t take you to hurt you. I took you to hurt them.”

“Sir?” This time, it was a squeak. Baram grumbled. Words were hard. Orders were harder.

He scooped the boy into his lap instead, and, as if he was touching a newborn, ran his fingers down the boy’s back. “You have a name?”

“Lots – lots of names, sir.”

“One of those, hunh?” It was an effort to remember how to be gentle, to be that careful. Baram’s girls were so tough, so thick-skinned. He set one hand over the boy’s hip. “My name is Baram.” Start with the simple things. “This is my house. The girls – they work for me.”

The boy looked at him, and swallowed. “The Black ‘Blazers called me Tommy. But… but my mother called me Kavan and my Mentor called me Wild Eyes.” He ducked his head suddenly. “Sir.”

“I can call you Kavan.” He patted the boy’s back. “So, you’re an adult?”

A snort of laughter, surprised, escaped before Kavan slapped both hands over his mouth. “Oh gods. Sir… sorry. Yes. Yes, I’m an adult. Nearly fifty.”

Baram barked out a laugh. “Older than me. So, old enough to understand.”

Another swallow, and a peek through those fingers. “Sir?”

“That there are monsters in the world.”

“Yes, yes sir.” There was no where for Kavan to go, perched on Baram’s lap and trapped, Baram’s hand on his hip holding him there. But he looked like he was trying to shrink away to nothingness.

He wasn’t a child. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t fragile, did it?

“And there are people who aren’t monsters.” He tried to sound gentle. It was hard; he had to sound like he was whispering, mostly. “And we are not monsters.”

~

“There are things you need to know about us.” Jaelie sat perched on the top stair of the trap-basement, Aloysius standing guard behind her. Their “guests” couldn’t make it out of the trap, not the way it was set up, but that was no reason to be incautious.

“Do I like I give a shit about your things?” The woman, Delaney, was snarling, fierce like a wild thing. Jaelie was glad she’d gone into the trap calmly, because fighting her would have been interesting. “Let us the fuck out of here and let us talk to Baram.”

“If the boss doesn’t want to talk to you, there’s nothing I can do about it. There are things you need to know about us.”

It wasn’t the first time Jaelie had given a speech like this one.

“I told you, I don’t give a-”

“Del.” The other one, Ardell, was soft and slick of voice. “Please continue, jae-”

“I’m called Briar Rose, sa’Diamondback. The things you need to know start with this: we are not on the side of angels.”

The woman, who had fallen silent for a moment, burst into laughter, fake and bubbly. “Who is, these days? I didn’t see them coming down for the war.”

Jaelie grinned, not because it was funny, but because the woman hadn’t realized she was in trouble yet. “We’re not on the side of devils, either. We’re on our side.” She met the man’s eyes, because he seemed to be paying attention.

He nodded slowly. “That’s the first thing to know. What’s the second?”

Now Jaelie was grinning. “That we are not monsters… and this isn’t where the monsters live.”

Next: There Are Always Choices.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/781908.html. You can comment here or there.

The Lannamer Chronicle: the Karsekarzlen Bucks (Reiassan Demifiction)

Aug17

Entertainment

In all the world, in all the land, there are no goats as beautiful, nor as skillfully trained, as the Karsekarzlen Goats.

These goats are bred specially for grace, coloration, horn twist, and length of leg, and they are raised only in the remote mountain city of Karsekarzi, by a family as old as the goat bloodline and older: unsurprisingly, the Karsekarzlen family.

This week, Lannamer was treated to the rare Karsekarzlen Goat Show, which tours the continent and only comes to Lannamer every third year. The goats and their handlers performed to a sold-out amphitheater, as they always do, with the less fortunate gathering outside, hoping for a place to open up.

This reporter was there, under the benevolent aegis of the Lannamer Chronicle, and had the chance to see the Karsekarzlen Bucks for the second time in her life.

They are a sight to behold! They are a hand1 taller than your average war-goat, more narrow in the withers and rump, and with a long and graceful neck. They are a lovely chestnut color in fur, and their horns are nearly pure white, and twisted like a corkscrew.

The Karsekarzlen family has all of their tack custom made, and it is just as lovely, if not more so, than the goats. Green and blue and silver adorn them, even to the tips of their horns, and every step flashes.

Not only do the goats put up with this sort of treatment, where lesser goats would balk and buck, they seem to enjoy it. And in their paces – based on ancient war maneuvers, but looking more like a dance than a fight – you can see clearly the enjoyment, in every handler and in every goat.2

My readers, if you can make it to a showing of the Karsekarzlen Bucks – they are in town for three more nights, and I hear that the last night still has tickets available – please do. They are a sight you may never see again, and well worth the cost.

1. Term here translates as “knot” but means, pretty much, “hand;” a unit of measurement about 4″ or a decimeter long

2. If you think I recently watched a special on the Lipizzaner Stallions, you’d be right.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/779539.html. You can comment here or there.

Reynard’s Story in Reynard’s Words – a continuation for @Rix_scaedu

Aug15

First: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/753621.html
Previous: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/767819.html
This to Rix’s commission

Reynard loved telling stories. He had, in more than one town, earned his supper (and, more often than not, a place in a bed or three) telling tales – fairy tales, sometimes, tales of the days that had been, horror stories of the war.

He told them all the same, fiction and truth – he told them as prettily as possible, made them as engaging as he could, and embellished where he needed to to make the story flow.

He thought, perhaps, in this situation, he ought to keep the embellishment to a minimum. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the story interesting.

After all, he wanted this woman to like him, didn’t he?

    I’ve enjoyed it – my Name – truth be told (he continued), and everything that it entails. I’ve had fun being the innocent-looking one, the sweet boy, the harmless guy.

    And I’ve had fun in those moments where they find out that that is most definitely not the case. Quite a bit of fun, actually. I’ve even had fun – perhaps the most fun – running from the scene of the crime with my pants in one hand and my sword in the other.

    Ah, I’ve done that a few times.

    I’ve run a few cons in my time, but, for the most part, my crimes have been of the more sensual nature – who am I to say no, if a lady or a gentleman wants me in their bed for the night or the week? The nights are cold, and the road is hard.

    So when I moved into that town – I don’t remember the name. It had a wall around it, but most towns do these days, don’t they? It had doors painted in wild colors and houses painted in grey. And it had the prettiest mayor I’ve ever seen, a dark-haired lady with warm brown skin and a laugh like you wouldn’t believe.

    She wasn’t married, and it wasn’t one of the Super Christian God Will Save Us From The Fairies places, so I didn’t see any problem with sliding into her henhouse, if you’ll forgive the metaphor. And that was actually going quite well for me for a while.

    And then there was this boy, the town cobbler. He had the big wide shoulders and the big strong hands… and he was quite a bit of fun with his shirt off, too.

    And he wasn’t married either, and, like I said, it wasn’t the most Christian town in the world, so I didn’t see any problem. And that was actually going pretty well for a while, too.

    And then there was this young lady, with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and she was engaged, but he didn’t pay her much attention and she had plenty of love to go around.

    So that was about a month in, and then there was this gorgeous blonde woman who came to town in a wagon with about seven other people – a travelling caravan – and there, somewhere in there, I missed a step or someone threw a monkey wrench in my dance.

    One way or the other, the mayor found out about the blonde lady, and she found out about the cobbler, and he found out about the blue-eyed girl… and this peaceful little town was all over shouting and yelling.

    I like shouting and yelling, I admit it. I like the chaos – some say I thrive on it. It’s fun.

    (Here he ducked his head and smiled, hoping it was sweet and innocent.)

    And so everyone shouting was just as fun for me as all the love-making and bedroom games. Quite fun. And so I would talk to one and then talk to another, fueling the flames, and maybe I let them catch me in the middle of a delicate situation with the baker’s son. And it was all, let me tell you ma’am, far more fun than maybe ought to have been.

    So I kept it going and kept it going – and then this pretty – no this gorgeous thing, redheaded woman with, you know, the way you can’t tell with fae if they’re twenty or a thousand but she was solid iron under her freckles.

    And she said to me “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but we can’t have this sort of nonsense right now.” That’s all she said. I mean, I asked questions, and I denied it, and I played innocent. I’m very good at playing innocent, ma’am.

    But that’s all she said to me. The rest was her guy. She stepped aside, and he…

    …ma’am, I’ve been beat down, and it was never like that. I’ve been punished, and it was never like that. I’ve gotten in fights, hell, when I had to, or when I felt just that chaotic.

    This guy destroyed me. And then he got me on my knees, and he gave me a choice.

He looked up at her and tried to swallow. “And that’s how I ended up Belonging to a terrifying mass of muscle, ma’am.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/786429.html

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The Clean-up

Aug13

First in this story: Unwelcome Guests
Previous: Kicking Out Unwelcome Guests

I have more planned, but this was a good stop point for this part. 673 words.

“Your target was never here.” Baram punctuated his sentence with a sharp kick to the bikers’ leader’s ribs. The woman grunted, and, on the other side of the field of battle, the nearly-dead tank made a pained noise.

Interesting.

Worry about it later. Baram picked up the boy. “This one stays with us. And your flamethrower.”

“Keep the girl, we need the boy.”

Even more interesting. Baram shifted his weight to his back foot, Jaelie’s cue to pick up the negotiation. “If you need the boy, even more reason we should keep him. You were the ones who were dumb enough to attack us on our home territory.”

“We were hunting down a target the boy said was here.”

“Then he’s not that good, is he? Both stay.”

“If we swear that our gang will never bother you or yours again…”

“Then you’ll be making reasonable precautions to stay alive.” Jaelie relented, just a bit. She shifted forward. “Look, we’ll keep the boy for six months. Come back then, and you can have him.”

“And the girl?”

“She’s ours. Come back in two years and we might – might – talk abut it.”

“You could-”

“We could kill you. I wouldn’t even have to get my hands dirty.” Baram admired, silently, the way that Jaelie made it sound casual. She was tough as nails. All of them were. “The tree will do it for me.”

“Six months on the boy. He’s yours until then. Two years on the girl. She’s her own woman, good luck holding on to her.”

“We’ll hold on to her.” Via jumped down from the wall and grinned. “One way or another. You get on down the road before we change our mind.”

Baram put a foot on the fire-thrower’s arrow-pinned wrists and nodded to Jaelie. She grabbed the seer boy and hauled him to his feet, pushing him against the wall.

The trees let go of the biker boss, and what was left of her merry band managed to get themselves onto their bikes and onto the road.

That left Baram and the girls to deal with the prisoners. “You.” He toed the girl on the ground. “You belong to Viatrix for the next year.”

The girl grunted. “Or what?”

“Or I let the trees have you.”

She twisted to look at the trees, which were reaching out to her with greedy arms. “I Belong to Viatrix for the next year.”

“Yes, you do.” Via pulled out the arrow with a yank, and the girl screamed. “Come with me.” She shot off instructions as she walked, and the girl pulled herself to her feet.

If she stayed that rough, Baram would have to talk to her. Hopefully, it settled down once she had the girl under control.

“Do you want me to get Aly, Boss?” Jaelie manhandled the boy over to him. “I mean, I already have Wish, and he’s enough for any two normal people…”

Baram showed his teeth. He’d meant it to be a smile, but Swish made him snarl. “No. No, this one’s mine.” He poked the boy in the chest. “Six months.”

The boy squirmed, and couldn’t quite look Baram in the face. “Six months.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to clear his throat. “I Belong to you for the next six months, sir.” He dropped to his knees and offered up his wrists. “I come to you with nothing, and everything I have will come from you.”

Baram shot a glare at Jaelie and Via, because he couldn’t very well glare at the kid, could he? He wrapped his hand carefully around the boy’s outstretched wrists. “You Belong to me,” he agreed, “for the next six months. To…” Aly or Jaelie would have done the words better. “to use and to protect. To shelter, to command. Yes?”

Now, the boy looked at him. “Yes.”

They still had two former “friends” in the basement to deal with. But Baram figured their actual prisoners of war might come first. “Come, then. Be Mine.”

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