Alder's Grove

The cat was trailing strands behind itself, so thickly that at first Spring could not see the color of the cat or the shape of it, just a cat-size ball of Strands.

“Did you-”

Her partner snorted. “That’s Ginger Tom. Well, that’s what I call him.”

Spring squinted, and noticed a line from her partner to the cat, no, several, thin but intense.

“Ginger Tom?” she prompted. This was… interesting.

“Well, Anna down the street, she calls him Pumpkin.” He strolled up the hill of his neighborhood as if it were flat. “And then Geordi down there, he calls him Nightmare. And Candid-and-Cariadad, they call him Only Man, and the redhead who won’t tell me her name, she calls him brother.”

Now Spring could make out the cat, a big orange - no surprise - ginger tom. “They all know him?”

“Know him, love him, feed him. you can see it, can’t you?”

“The way he’s connected to the whole neighborhood?” Spring paused. “No, that’s not right. Not quite connected.” She found herself smiling. “Smart cat. I didn’t know they could do that. He’s made himself the neighborhood.”

“Not a mouse or vole in a mile radius.” Her partner was definitely proud. “And he brings the other cats around like a posse, too.” He gestured towards several other cats. “Shares the food. He’s a good cat.”

Watching the strands twisting around the hill, Spring had to agree.

After/concurrent with Nothing could possib-lie go wrong and Places One Doesn't Go.

The fest was wild, and Spring and Lance were in the heart of it. A place like this didn't need too much tangling - so many people here were already quite twisted up, wound in with other people, braided in with their own stories. But it was still fun to watch the tangles and knots, and it was still just a fun place to be, where nobody would look sideways at the girl with chaos tattooed on her chest or the handsome man in the very-well-fit pants and silky shirt who somehow seemed at home in the sea of tie-dye and batik, ripped denim and torn flannel.

"You look perfect," Lance told her. "You're aligned exactly with this place, did you know that?"

Spring stretched up, fingers tickling the air. "I know. This place is my place. It's my people." She dropped her arms so she could wiggle her fingers at a man covered in black-ink tattoos. "It's like home, you know, like family? Can't stand to spend all your time there, but it's awesome when you go back for a bit."

"Excuse me." The voice cut across the cacophony, although it sounded both quiet and calm. "I believe you are mistaken about some important matters." There was no speaker visible. The sound was coming from the back fence.

Spring grabbed Lance's hand. "Speaking of family... we need to be over there. Now."

I asked for Non-Addergoole Prompts here; this is to rix_scaedu's prompt mashed up with ankewehner's

Stranded World has a landing page here.



It was the season for candles. Autumn settled in her van/RV, approximately eight thousand miles from anyone she knew, and lit a candle on her table.

Just one candle, and hers was red. This was how this thing was done. She sat down on her beanbag, and studied the flame.



It was the time for the flame. Winter excused himself from the quiet social obligations of the party to set a glass candleholder in the North-facing window.

He pulled up a chair in front of the window, and settled in before lighting the candle. Just one, and his was white. There was an order to this, as in all things.



It was just about that time. Spring kissed New Boy deeply, did something somewhat obscene to Slightly Less New Boy, and left the two of them to entertain each other or complain about video games.

She dug the candle - spring green - out of her underwear drawer and stuck it in a metal can in her East-facing window. There was a way to do things, but she was the tangler, so she added two birthday candles for contrast.

She lit all three and stared into the flame.



Everything happened when it had to, and in its own time. This just happened to be the right time to light a candle.

Summer was alone, tonight; she had arranged it that way. She lit the orange-yellow pillar candle and set it, carefully, on the plate from home. Things went the way they needed to, and this way needed one light, and no more.

Summer stared into the flame and thought of home.



Icons all by the wonderful djinni

This is the linkback incentive story for October Giraffe Call (and on LJ). Please leave a comment here if you have boosted my signal.

"Spring is a very bright young lady."

By the time Eugenia RoundTree was staring down her youngest daughter's second-grade teacher over stale, burnt coffee and surprisingly good cookies, she had learned to dread parent-teacher conferences.

Winter had been so self-contained his teachers had worried about him. After that, his sisters...
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names in the second half from this generator

As discussed here and on LJ, I'm going to do this meme for a few characters (I'm rotating seasonal sibs to not totally overwhelm myself).

Questions 5 & 4 are here and on LJ.

7.) Is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? Why?
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8.) Day of Favorites! What’s your character’s favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
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As discussed here and on LJ, I'm going to do this meme for a few characters (I'm rotating seasonal sibs to not totally overwhelm myself).

Feel free to suggest another character, and I'll work through them in rotation.

Question 2 here and on LJ.

Questions 5 and 6 are here and here on LJ.

3.) Name one scar your character has, and tell us where it came from. If they don’t have any, is there a reason?
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4.) How vain is your character? Do they find themselves attractive?
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As discussed here and on LJ, I'm going to do this meme for a few characters (I'm rotating seasonal sibs to not totally overwhelm myself).

Feel free to suggest another character, and I'll work through them in rotation.

Question 2 here and on LJ.

(1) Describe your character’s relationship with their mother or their father, or both. Was it good? Bad? Were they spoiled rotten, ignored? Do they still get along now, or no?
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To skysailor's prompt "Orange Juice;" this comes after Having Fun.

Stranded Verse has a Landing Page (Lj

“Orange Juice.” Autumn thumped the mugs down on the tiny table in her tiny RV, the noise causing her little sister to cringe. “Patented hangover cure: ghetto mimosas and a big pile of hash browns.”

“You are a cruel, cruel woman,” Spring complained. She was still half in the garb she’d gone out in the day before, hay in her hair and mud on her hem. It had been a long afterparty and a beautiful night - and the man had been beautiful, too, with those leather pants and the wicked way he swung the whip, never mind that he was easily old enough to be her father.

“I am a sensible, sensible woman,” Autumn replied. She had, as far as Spring could tell, quaffed her share and danced just as long as anyone, although Spring had found her alone in her bunk this morning. “Drink your orange juice and know your sister loves you.”

Spring downed the glass in one swallow, barely tasting the fizz and the vodka, the whisper of a Strand-pull tickling the back of her throat. “That’s one hell of a hangover cure,” she complained. “What’s in the potatoes? Dynamite?”

“Tabasco and penicillin,” her sister answered mildly. “I like the mule-skinner as much as the next girl…”

“I’m always careful. Well, except for about the bite marks.”