Paradox and... a story of Superheros for the (May) Giraffe Call

For imaginaryfiend's commissioned continuation of Returned Paradox

I was born to death.

I was born to the memory of a dead woman, forty weeks to the day after Paradox Maverick died, and I was told so, in whispers and glances and blasted macaroni and cheese on my birthday every year. I was born, it seemed when I was younger, to echo her back to my mother’s companions, to look like her in every way I could.

Sometimes I think that she did it on purpose, Paradox, tinkered with my genetics in the womb to put them off the scent, as it were, to make them keep looking in the wrong place and never think to look where they should have. I wonder, if she did that, if she had any idea how well she would succeed?

Here I am, now, exactly what they created, exactly what I created, and not what they would have had me be. Nothing, nothing, I might add, like Paradox Maverick, may she rot in a cold cell in the darkest corner of Hell.
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Mid-rainy Festival, a story of Reiassan for the Giraffe Call (@inventrix)

For inventrix's prompt.

Reiassan has three still-unnamed seasons: Cold, Rainy, and Hot.

A kehlag is a small furry domesticated animal; a dohdehr is a a weasel/ermine like creature with soft fur. In the interest of not calling a Rabbit a Smeerp, I will probably call them cats and fishers (or weasels) in the long run, like the pahziht and pyahz are goats and horses.

The rainy season was at mid-point, and many of the animals were beginning to give birth. Much to the distress and consternation of her five-year-old daughter Oniarya, Upunbina (the Mayor of a small northern Callennan town) was every bit as focused on her new child as the mother goats were with their kids, the mother dohdehri with their kits, the mother kehlagyi with their kittens: nobody wanted to play with Oni, and nobody wanted to let her play with the little ones. It was going to be the worst festival ever.
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An excerpt of Rin & Girey for the Giraffe Call (@Rix_scaedu)

To rix_scaedu's prompt. This is part of the main story, set very early on, their second day on the road.

Chapter 2: Strangers
After a war-season, we look for friends in the faces of strangers, and for enemies in the faces of our friends.

Her companion was a bit of a grumbler.

Rin was not all that surprised. A career in the army and a lifetime of being royalty both tended to lead one to complain; the former out of a ritualized counter to obligation and responsibility, the second for much the same reason, at least in Callenia. A royal soldier, then, and a captive to boot, was probably entitled a bit of complaining. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t do the same, were the roles reversed.

Of course, if the roles were reserved, she might be facing far less kind treatment, something the damn morning, the difficulty of their mounts, and her companion’s near-incessant whining were bringing to the forefront of her mind. How would he like it, draped over the saddle instead of riding properly? ( Read more... )