Mar. 13th, 2017

aldersprig: (KinkBingo2)
after Lady Taisiya’s FIRST Husband - a ficlet, to [personal profile] thnidu’s commissioned continuation.

Taisiya couldn’t stay turned around for long, which was probably best for her pride and self-esteem. She turned back to face the horses before she’d come up with anything to say.

Her husband repeated, very politely, “what do you want, Lady Taisiya?”

The first thing that came to her mind this time was what should I want? That wasn’t, however, the sort of question one asked one’s husband.

She cleared her throat. “I want… to be comfortable in my own home.”

“Well then,” he answered, his voice gentle, “I shall attempt to provide you with that.”

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aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
This follows The Funeral and Further Funeral and Funeral: Will-Reading and Funeral: Senga’s Inheritance. It’s set in Fae apoc, pre-apoc era, possibly 2010.

Senga stared at the lawyer. She didn’t dare look at Mr. Silence; she didn’t dare look at the rest of the room.

Clause Seven. That was the clause which had kept her alive. That answered a question she hadn’t wanted to ask yet - did Great-Aunt Mirabella’s protections continue after her death? It appeared that they did, or at least that they might.

If she agreed to Own someone who was clearly averse to the idea and clearly dangerous.

Well… he might be less dangerous than the rest of the family and of Mirabella’s empire.
Read more... )

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aldersprig: (blizzarded)
So… I like winter. I actually do. The layers of clothing, the cozy feeling in front of the fire, hot cocoa and marshmallows. I like it. Yes, there’s also shoveling, brushing off the car, taking twice as long to get to work, hauling the firewood. But there’s always things like that.

What I like most about winter is the feeling of hibernation. You can spend an entire weekend or two just not leaving the house, and it seems perfectly reasonable. (Winters that I don’t get this, I get a little cranky, actually — long warm winters, winters without enough snow…)

(In my case, “enough snow” is gauged on a chart involving feet of snow, not inches, because I grew up on Lake Ontario, where the snow comes not in snowfalls but in giant snow dumps.)

This weekend, last weekend, I don’t have that much to blog about — because we hibernated. The weekend before this most recent one, we didn’t leave the house at all. This weekend, we got take-out (Nobody delivers to where we live) and went grocery shopping.

Exciting, right?

Very restful.

We fixed our stand mixer - it needed a new worm follower gear (I used to play White Wolf/World of Darkness a lot; the urge to think of that as a Wyrm Follower is strong), so we cleaned it out, replaced the gear, and packed grease into it.

We vacuumed the stairs and the hearth - we have three cats and heat with wood, making both of those weekly chores.

I made a bit loaf of bread and we ate Chinese take-out leftovers all weekend.

The house looks a little cleaner, my wordcount looks amazing, and all in all, I feel refreshed and recharged - never mind Daylight Savings Time, grumble grumble.

And that’s why I like hibernation. I get some quiet time, I get some stuff done, and there is very little that has to be done.

Spring is coming soon, and that will change the whole equation, but until then, I’ll enjoy my time trapped inside by the cold and the snow.

Stay warm, everyone. We’ve got a little more hibernation left.
aldersprig: (Marked)
MARKED - 5.3

Nilien turned around one more time. The path behind her was clear. It wouldn’t be all that hard to find her way back, not from this point.

“I haven’t seen a wall,” she murmured, mostly to Ember. “And we came in through a gate, right? So we’re probably still on the school property.”

There hasn’t been a wall, Ember agreed. So…?

read on...
aldersprig: (AylaSmile)
Chapter 3: Abednego
by Lyn Thorne-Alder

Saturday, September 9, 2000

“So what’s Abe short for?” The girl scooched closer to Abednego, her plastic cup sloshing green frothiness precariously close to the top. Her eyes were almost the same green as the drink; her hair, spilling over her bare shoulders, Abednego’s clothed shoulders, and the back of the couch, was nut-brown and soft as silk; the scattering of freckles on her pale skin were green, too.

read on…


aldersprig: an egyptian sandcat looking out of a terra-cotta pipe (Default)

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