Tag Archive | prompter: rix

…Tied up with String

Aug8

To [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of ♪Brown Paper Packages♫.

The tag read, in a tidy handwriting that Ackelea was pretty sure she recognized,

Don’t say I never gave you anything.
For that matter, don’t let him say I never gave him anything, either. There are a lot worse options for him than you – me included – and the boy was practically begging for it.

By signing the below, I, Ackelea cy’Solomon, agree to take Ownership of the attached package. He shall live under my name until I choose to release him.

There was a line underneath, and, thoughtfully, a pen attached. Ackelea muttered a couple quick Idu Workings to be certain she wasn’t signing anything but what she could see, and then marked the signature line with her glyph.

She knew what was coming, so she was braced for the ear-popping world-twisting feeling as the Keeping took hold; the squeak from inside the package as her ears popped was the first indication that there was actually a real, live, conscious person in there.

The boy was practically begging for it.

That could mean a lot of things, especially if she was right about her anonymous gifter. Ackelea murmured a quick Levitation Working and got the package inside her threshold. After a moment’s consideration, she settled it down on her bed.

“Hold on a moment,” she told the brown wrappings. Getting no response, she took said moment to change into a nice kilt and her favorite shirt. Pants might have given a stronger impression – but she didn’t like to wear enough clothes to wear a kilt. Too warm, too confining.

The brown wrappings, obviously, held still while she changed. And they held still while she began to unwrap them – it- him.

Someone had taken the time – ha, someone – to wrap this package up nice, so she took her time to appreciate the wrapping. Twine, real twine, tied in pretty little double-bows. Seventeen of them – she counted out loud – and then three layers of paper. It wasn’t butcher’s paper – again, she checked – just brown paper spiraled around the person inside.

She got the feet out first. Bare feet, naked feet. And then the ankles – also bare, the thighs-naked – and “Oh, aren’t you nice.” She found herself making a noise like a purr, her, purring. This was going to be an interesting year, wasn’t it?

“You are a nice one… so far.” Flat stomach, almost too flat. Skinny-boi. She almost didn’t want to keep unwrapping.

She got to the nipples, to find them both pierced with thick-gauge piercings. “Well, that’s not all that common these days, is it?” She found her lips curling in a smile. “You really were asking for it, weren’t you?” She was talking to a wrapped package. That was, she had to admit, a little weird. Right. Time to get the mouth unwrapped.

The neck was bare. That was – interesting. Useful, though. The mouth, on the other hand, he’d wrapped up, gagged with a long knot of rope. “Aah.” Ackeleah chuckled. “Ah, that’s adorable.” She patted the bare flank. “All right, almost done unwrapping you.”

This time, the boy made a noise – not much of one, just a little thing. It almost sounded like a protest.

Ackeleah pinched what came to hand – his inner thigh – and went back to unwrapping. He fell quiet again, leaving her to her monologue. “You’re gorgeous, you know. But I’m sure you know that, looking like this. Looking like – where did your clothes go? You can’t have been wandering around naked on Hell Night… well, I guess that would have counted as asking for it.” She pushed the paper off his face, revealing wide eyes, wide brown eyes staring at her. “Are you worried, boy? A little concerned about your situation?”

She was purring again. What was she going to do with herself?

She sliced the rope gagging him with a very careful application of claws, and pulled the knot out of his mouth. Hemp. He’d been tangled up by a sadist – of course, she’d guessed that already.

“There you go. Now… what am I going to do with you?”

He dropped off the in the most graceful controlled fall Ackeleah had ever seen, landing on his knees with his hands behind his back and his head bowed. His voice was rough, but there was no hesitation at all in it.

“Whatever you want, mistress. Anything at all.”

♪When the dog bites, when the bee stings…♫

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/767112.html. You can comment here or there.

Brown paper packages… ♪♫

Jun5

I asked for prompts regarding Packages here for The MicroPrompt Giraffe Call. This is written to Rix_Scaedu’s Prompt here.

♪♫ Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things… ♫♪

It sounded like her doorbell, if Ackelea had decided on the world’s twee-est doorbell. It sounded like a weird prank for late in the evening the day after Hell Night. It sounded like she ought to open her door, because it had just moved on to

♪♫ Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles… ♫♪

and the Dead Gods alone knew what schnitzel with noodles was supposed to be.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, intercom on, I’m coming.”

♪♫ Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things ♫♪

“Dead things and intercom off blasted gods stop ringing already I’m on my way” She yanked the door open, remembering only then that she was wearing her oldest pair of shorts and her bra, because who visited anyone on the evening after Hell Night?

♪♫ Brown paper packages tied up with strings… ♫♪ The doorbell cut off as she opened her door, which was a small blessing at least.

“Well, that’s a brown paper package,” Ackelea said, mostly to herself. She wasn’t certain the package could hear her. “And it’s definitely tied up with string. Hope it’s not butcher paper, I don’t think that stuff breathes.”

On her doorstep, wrapped up in almost more string than paper, was something the general size and shape of a human being – or a fae – complete with a tag sticking out.

♪♫ …These are a few of my favorite things… ♫♪

Tip Package 😉

♪Tied Up With String♫

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/726603.html. You can comment here or there.

Cloaked

Mar25

For [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt. Facets of Dusk has a landing page here.

The Door was hard to push, this time; Alexa held the doorknob open while she, Cole, and Xenia shoved it until it opened enough to let them through.

Once through, it was easy enough to see what had happened: rubble had fallen on the other side, obstructing the door. Most of the building had fallen, actually, leaving a single wall, braced and supported with scrap wood.

“Ruins?” Josie picked up a stone, and frowned. “No…”

“No.” Steven’s instruments were beeping. “No, this is fresh damage. Nothing here has been sitting for more than a couple years.”

“Put that away.” Cole dropped his gun in a side pocket and pulled out a knife instead. “Xen…”

“Got it. What’s up?”

In the center of this, Alexa and Aerich shared a look. The team did this, sometimes. They would wait until their skills were needed.

“How do you know you’re in a cyberpunk world?”

“Too much tech. Like that place with the blond you liked…”

“That’s real specific.”

“The one with the implants.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“There’s no tech here.” The lean really-not-an-assassin, really, looked around. Alexa had already made the connection. She grabbed her cloak out of her pack and nudged Aerich to do the same.

“Exactly. And how do you know when you’re in a sword and sorcery universe?”

“Cole, I’m not a goddamned student.”

“No tech.” Alexa stepped forward. “Dragon-claw marks on the stone. No wires anywhere. And that’s a castle in the distance.”

“What does that make us, then?” Josie, noting Alexa’s cloak, was doning her own.

They didn’t need to see Aerich’s face to know he was smiling. It showed in his voice. “Well, I do believe we’re the adventuring party of mysterious strangers.”

 

Originally posted here.

Safe House, a half-story

Mar31

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt.

After The Life You Make (LJ) and Memories (LJ), and directly after Company (LJ)

Faerie Apoc, Addergoole – landing page here (or on LJ)

“Aly,” he called, and gestured for the third of his employees to guard the kids. Viatrix didn’t have the kill-the-trouble-now face on, but she did look worried.

“What is it… hunh.” The two women in the doorway tickled half a memory for him. He’d seen their faces before, somewhere, the taller one more than the shorter one.

“Oh, hell no.” The taller one was carrying blades. Four of them. The shorter one was carrying a single rapier. “I heard that this was a safe house. That was a bad joke, right?”

Viatrix looked between the two women, and back to Baram. “He doesn’t remember you,” she explained. “He doesn’t remember much at all longer than a year ago.”

He remembered that look on people’s faces, though. Monster. Creature. Kill it. Not the one that replaced that – anger with no target, loss, confusion. “He doesn’t remember?” She turned to face him directly, still keeping her body between the shorter girl and him. “You don’t remember me? You raped me and you don’t remember me? I have your SON and you don’t remember me?”

“Callie,” the shorter girl murmured, “not on the street, okay?”

He looked the two girls over, and noted the children in the car. “Not on the street. I promise, if you don’t attack me, I will offer you no harm while you’re in my house. Come in.” Raped her. Had he? Monster. Creature. Kill him.

The two visitors shared a look, and then the taller one, Callie, Callie, he almost remembered a Callie, looked at Viatrix. “Does he speak for you?”

“If you don’t harm me or mine, I promise I won’t harm you or yours,” Via shrugged. “He’s my employer, not my Keeper.”

“You stay here of your own free will?” That was the short one this time, staring at Viatrix.

Via wasn’t Jaelie, but she could read a situation, better than Baram could. She stepped out of the way, letting the two women into his cave. “He keeps us and our kids safe. I guess we are a safe house, if you come down to it.”

Safe house. Baram couldn’t help a smile. The monster ran a safe house.

Next: Signal Fire

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/312898.html. You can comment here or there.

Presented

Feb23

For [profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt – more of “Birthday Present,” from the December Giraffe Call.

Addergoole has a landing page here

Content warnings: mind control.

“I’m not…” Noam gave up. If this infuriating bitch wanted to think he was stupid, let her. What would it matter? He was trapped. he couldn’t move, and, even if he could, he’d been paying attention. He couldn’t really get away from her – the school had no exits, or, if they had, he hadn’t gone through enough of the dungeon to find them yet – so running was, at best, a stalling measure.

It’s her birthday… You should thank me.

“Thank you,” he said, not certain if it had been an order or not. “You think Brenna will like me?” As conversational gambits went, that one was pretty lame, but she already thought he was a moron, and he wasn’t really trying to make friends with her. He had her pretty firmly in the category of not-friend, and planned on keeping her there.

“I know I had a ribbon around here somewhere… Aistrigh unutu. There, that ought to match your patterning better. Hold still.”

“Already holding still,” he muttered.

“Aren’t you clever,” she crooned sarcastically, as she tied a teal-green ribbon around his neck. “Yes, I think Brenna will like you. She’d been complaining that she can’t find anyone.”

“She talks, then?” He hadn’t been certain.

Hera chuckles. “She’s shy. It’s probably why she can’t find anyone. But you’ll be good to her, won’t you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well…” She patted his shoulder and studied him thoughtfully. “I plan on giving you to her, you know, not Keeping you myself and letting her just play with you. That would be entertaining, I suppose, but you’re really not my type.”

“I guessed,” he muttered. Too pretty, too dumb…

“Mm-hrmm. I like my men shorter, brighter, and stronger. Less Dionysus and more Hephaestus.”

The back-handed complements and insults were giving him whiplash. She liked him, but she thought he was stupid. Not her type, but pretty and god-like. He wanted to nod, couldn’t, so just made a little noise instead.

“Don’t grunt, dear, it’s not pretty. Here, take you… no. you’re holding still like a good boy.” She stood on her toes to unbutton his shirt and tug it out of his pants, leaving him blushing at the contact. “There. You may move enough to take your shirt off. Leave it on my bed.”

He shrugged his shirt off and let it fall on the mess of her blankets. Like this, almost all the markings of his Change were showing. He hoped she decided that was enough, and didn’t make him show the rest of them.

“Mmm.” She studied her work critically. “One more ribbon… Aistrigh unutu… you can move enough to put your wrists behind your back, crossed over each other.”

He didn’t like where that was going, but he did it anyway, rolling his shoulders a little bit, trying to get comfortable. She walked around behind him, muttering to herself, nothing he could quite hear, and tied the second ribbon around his wrists, rather firmly.

“Don’t try to get out of that, mind you. You can move now. Follow me; we’re going to go see Brenna.”

“My shirt?” he asked, even though he had a feeling it was a lost cause.

“Mmm. I’ll bring it by later, don’t want to ruin the effect. Hush now, and not another word until Brenna says you’re hers.”

He hushed and followed, because he didn’t have any choice in the matter, frowning at her back. He felt conspicuous, exposed, and cold, all of which were pretty accurate, shirtless, bound, and following a girl more than a foot shorter than him like a trained puppy.

What if someone sees me like this? was quickly replaced by Is he looking at me? as they came upon Jabez. The short, dark, dragon-like boy shared a PE class and a History class with Noam, but they’d never really spoken. His eyes slid right over Noam now.

“Hera,” he nodded at the short girl, and

“Hey, Jabez,” she replied, and that was it. Noam might as well have not been there at all.

“Don’t frown,” Hera scolded, when the other boy was out of sight around a curve. “It makes you look sullen.”

He felt sullen. But he smiled anyway, trying to make it not look horribly fake.

“That’s better.” She patted his shoulder as she stopped by a door in another pod. Noam’s heart did weird things in his chest as she knocked, and he spent a bad couple minutes trying to find a loophole in her orders. He didn’t really have to stand here waiting like a… well, like a birthday present, did he?

But he did, and he had just sighed in frustration when the door opened.

Brenna hadn’t been expecting company, he was fairly certain: she was wearing a long t-shirt over leggings, her hair pulled back in a kerchief. Her TV was going in the background, and the smell of popcorn filled the room.

“Hera!” She stepped back into her room a couple jittery steps, looking uncertain. “And… Noam?” Her voice squeaked a little. “Hera, what did you…”

“Happy birthday, Brenna.” She pushed Noam forward until he almost bumped against her friend’s threshold. “He’s yours now.”

“You… got me a boy?” She reached out for Noam, and, somehow, he managed not to flinch back. “You got me Noam?“

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t ask, so he smiled gamely at her. She’d always seemed like a nice girl. Could she fix this?

“I did. Take him, Brenna, I think you’ll have fun breaking him in.”

No, no, he didn’t want that. He shook his head unhappily, nervously, but Brenna just smiled. She had, he noticed, what would be a very nice smile under other circumstances.

“I think I will. This is the nicest gift I’ve gotten this year. Come in, Noam, you’re mine now.”

“Tell her your hers,” Hera urged from behind him, as, for lack of anything better to do, Noam stepped into Brenna’s room.

“I’m yours,” he said unwillingly, and then clamped his mouth shut.

“Very good. Hera…”

“You two have fun,” Hera chirped, and headed down the hall. Brenna closed the door, locking a struggling Noam – he could struggle! He’d better do it fast! – in with her.

“So…” She looked him up and down, smiling uncertainly. “This might be fun.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/281557.html. You can comment here or there.

Loaves, a story for the Giraffe Call @Rix_Scaedu

Jan26

For Rix_scaedu‘s prompt

“What we need,” Katydid declared, “is a place to eat.”

Jorge looked over at her dubiously. “Like a dining room table? ‘did, I’m sure you’ve noticed, but this is a shanty.”

“No, no.” Her gesture took in the small jury-rigged building. “This is a place to sleep and not freeze. We need a place to eat.”

“Okay, you’re repeating yourself. Have you gone to the clinic recently?”

“No,” she frowned. “They make my brain buzz. This place, Jorge, this shanty-town, Hoover-ville, cardboard city – we need a place to eat.”

“We’re all starving, yeah, Katydid. I know that. We ALL know that, ‘did.”

She bit her lip. “Why don’t you ever listen?”

“Because you never make sense! You come down here like you belong with us, but you don’t, and then you say things like you’re making fun of us. Why don’t you go home?”

“I don’t have a home.” Her knees went up to her chest, and her hair covered her face. Jorge expelled air loudly.

“Whatever happened, there in the ‘burbs, it can’t be worse than starving.”

“We’re not going to starve.” She stood abruptly and hurried out of the hut, leaving Jorge to stare in her wake.

When he didn’t see her for several days, he thought she’d gone back to the ‘burbs, drama or not. Not that he KNEW that was where she came from, but good, clean shoes, sturdy clothes that were nevertheless the latest fashion, and hair that had been cut in the last month, plus teeth so straight and even as to look fake, did not look like city-poverty to him, much less shanty-town poor. He wished her luck, said a prayer for her, and moved a warmer girl into his shanty.

It was the girl, Annie, who told him what Katydid had done. “There’s a kitchen. They’re giving out food”

“A what?”

“In the middle of the ‘Ville. Follow the smoke.”

So follow the smoke he did, ’cause his stomach was trying to eat itself, and there, in the squarest shanty he’d ever seen built, with three banners for a tarp, Katydid had laid out tables, and over an oil-barrel stove, complete with chimney, she was dishing out soup and dumplings.

“Where…?” Jorge started, but the wildness was running high in the girl’s eyes, and he fell quiet.

“Jesus had fish,” was all she’d say.

Hooverville, non-Wiki Hoovervilles, shanty-town

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/245336.html. You can comment here or there.

The Tuesday Map

Jan14

For rix_scaedu‘s prompt

Influences included Dark City and the folding apartments for which I can’t currently find links. Also, IKEA, and my fascination with planned communities.

The city moved.

The cluck struck seven p.m., the alarm chimed, and, all over the city, people stopped what they were doing and grabbed on to their hand-holds. Smoothly, on well-oiled tracks and risers, the Bell-Apple Experimental Living Zone, the BAELZ, shifted into its Tuesday position.

Announcements sounded. The following changes to the Zone’s Tuesday arrangement have taken place. The Seventh Ave Diner is now on the corner of Sixth Avenue and J Street. The Hairtisserie is now on the north-west corner of the Zone, above the Butcherie. The City Hall has moved one block north and one block upwards.

J-alpha-7 let go of the handle and picked up her knitting, only to realize she’d run out of yarn. “Darn it,” she swore softly.

“What is it, sweetcheeks?” her partner of the year, H-beta-six, asked, not really paying attention. At least the year was nearly over.

“I need new yarn, and I’m never quite sure where they’ve put the Woolery. How do you get there from here when today is Tuesday?”

“How have you lived in BAELZ your whole life and still not developed a sense of direction?” H complained tiredly. “You can’t get there on Tuesdays, you know that. They’re cleaning First Ave, and that’s in the middle of the Zone tonight.”

She wrinkled her nose. “There’s got to be a way. They can’t just cut off half the city for one day out of ten.”

“They can. They’re the architects, the big Grahams. They can do anything they want.”

“It’s stupid.” She stood up, setting her knitting carefully where H wouldn’t go bothering it. “I’m going to go looking.”

“J, don’t be a ditz. You know you get lost when you go exploring alone.”

“Then come with me,” she challenged, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“I’ve got stuff to do. Honestly, J, you know I can’t just drop everything on your whim.”

“Fine.” She slid on her coat – the Zone’s outdoor regions were kept slightly cooler than the indoor regions, to suggest the need for a home. “Then I’ll go myself.” Thinking to herself, two more weeks until the year is over, and trying to hold the Tuesday map in her head, she left their apartment behind.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/232365.html. You can comment here or there.

Calling in the Storm

Jan12

For Rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned prompt. This is set in the Addergoole ‘verse, whose landing page is here on DW & here on LJ.

I believe (@inventrix’s suggestion) that Diarmaid is Mabina-and-Cassidy’s daughter born after school. This puts this around year 26-28).

This is after The Leftover Gift (LJ)

The natives – or at least the house-guests – were getting restless, and Diarmaid was running out of things to distract them with. Edelin had headed out to the Store “just to pick something up” over an hour ago, and hadn’t been seen nor heard from since. Solange had told them she’d be along later, and never shown up. And a peek outside still showed the halls to be loud, dark, and entirely creepy.

Diar’s parents had been frustratingly close-lipped about the school, but her older brother and sister had told her two things when they came home last summer: “Remember, you’re a cook, not a fighter,” and “if everything looks like it’s going handbasket-y, close your door and don’t let anyone in.”

Looking ruefully around her packed room, Diar decided she listened just about as well as everyone else in her family. Every friend she’d made in two weeks here at Addergoole – except Edelin and Solange – was crowded in here, eating her shepherd’s pie and playing whatever games they could think up.

Flurry, however, was staring at the door thoughtfully. “My room’s just across the pod, Diar,” he wheedled.

“And it might as well be on the moon, Flurry. You are staying right here where you are. Here, have some cake, why don’tcha.”

“Where did you come up with cake?”

“Leftovers, of course. It’s fine, Tony ate two pieces and didn’t fall over.”

“I trust you. And it’s not…” he paused to swallow the cake nigh-on-whole “…that I don’t like your company, Diar. I’d like a lot more of it, maybe in a less crowded situation.”

“And I’m sure you would, my dear, but that’s not today.” And maybe not any day. Her Cohort, or the boys, at least, seemed so young.

“It’s really not,” he agreed. “But I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Of course you don’t, and I’m not sitting not babying you. If you want to go out into the loud fuss and muss, well, you’re an adult now, aren’t you? I just worry.” She was, she knew, channeling her mother. She was also genuinely worried.

“I’m an adult,” he agreed, not entirely certainly, but studying her expression, he nodded again, a little firmly. “You don’t have to look after me, Diar. I can handle myself.”

Gods save us from boys who want to be men. “Then go, Flurry. I’m not stopping you.” Come back with your shield… Down, girl. He’s not yours to send off to battle. But send him off she did, holding the door open for him.

Flury was barely halfway across the dark pod when something with far too many arms grabbed him, pulling him up into mid air. Diar, pretending she wasn’t standing in her open door watching, gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Too late; all of her guests were watching over or around her shoulders now.

“Let me go!” Flurry gasped, struggling, and then really fighting in earnest, pushing against the arms. The air was getting colder and colder, or was that just her nerves? Diar hugged herself tightly, staring at her friend.

It was only in staring that she managed to notice when he went from a short stocky boy to an icicle, the icicle slipping to the ground in, unsurprisingly, a flurry of ice and snow. But he was still there, at the center of the storm, blue and freezing, and the octopus-squid thing was grabbing for him.

Channeling her mother like never before, Diarmaid snapped out into the pod. “Flurry sh’Eirlys, you get back in here this instant.”

She was happily surprised when that worked, and the storm bowled her over in returning over her threshold. Staring down where she thought the octopus’ eyes were, she informed it calmly, “This is my family.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/228883.html. You can comment here or there.

Up Shit Creek

Dec25

For [livejournal.com profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ – and here (and more updated) on lynthornealder.com.

🐎

“Come on, big brother,” Svadilfari teased. “We need you to prune the hawthorn and clean out the stables.”

“You know, we have normal, human staff for all that,” Pyry complained. He was sick to death of horse shit and hawthorn thorns.

“And we have a normal, human brother for that, too,” his younger sister Abasta pointed out. “Face it, Pie, no matter how much you wander around bothering the older fae, you’re never going to Change. You’re twenty-three. You’re Faded.”

“A genetic sport,” Svad offered. “A failure.”
Continue reading →

Loophole

Oct25

For rix_scaedu‘s prompt.

Dragons Next Door Verse. DND has a landing page – here.

This comes after Fears (LJ Link).

Commenters: 4

They didn’t think Juniper was listening, but, then again, the grown-ups rarely did. Even Cxaidin and Zizny, who were normally so much more rational than her own parents (or the teachers in school, who were either stupid or mean), talked right over her when it was something they thought she shouldn’t understand. Of course, it was a lot easier for them to talk over her; they were huge.

Today it was all four of them, her Mom and Dad and Jimmy’s parents, while she sat with Jimmy and Baby and Cthannie and the erbiss, oiling Jimmy’s scales, burping Baby, and listening to every word.

“What are you going to do?” Dad was asking quietly. “That sort of threat…”

“If we were back in the old country, it would be easy,” Zizny rumbled. “But here, the humans are – no offense – but they’re very thin-skinned. If we dealt with this … interloper… in the traditional way, the police would be beating down our door.”

“Yes, they would be,” Mom murmured. “I can see where making poacher flambé would be bad for PR.” PR, Juniper had learned, was the art of looking better than you were, or at least of convincing people you were better than they thought you were. Jin said she needed better PR for school.

“Rather,” Cxaidin sighed. “I’d love to be able to roast everyone who tries to hurt our children.”

“I’m with you on that,” Sage agreed. Juniper snuggled Tay-tay closer. Her Daddy loved her and wanted to protect her. It was a wonderful feeling. And Jimmy’sparents wanted to protect him. But what were they going to do about the bad guy?

Seemed like Mom had the same question. “So what will you do?”

“We have called the police,” Zizny grumbled. “But they told us that it would take a while before they could investigate, because we chased him off.”

“Mmm. That can happen,” Dad agreed. “And in the meantime, he’s out there chasing down whatever it is he or his employers want, all over the neighborhood. You know, Cxaidin, Zizny, the public will be very upset if they see that you have taken the law into your own claws.” He said it funny, like there was a meaning in there he didn’t want to say out loud.

“True…” Zizny puffed smoke, which usually meant deep thinking or irritation. “True.” The dragon sounded, Juniper thought, rather pleased.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/158337.html. You can comment here or there.