aldersprig: (AldersGrove)
Written to rix_scaedu‘s prompt.  


The leaves were turning wrong.

When you lived in a wooded area for a while, you got so you could feel the rhythm of autumn. The leaves closest to the road, closest to the prevailing wind, closest to anything that chilled them down, turned first.  The biggest trees turned slower.  The middle of the woods turned slow and last.

But in the forest behind Erato’s house, there was an almost circular place where the leaves had starting turning quickly, almost before the little maple that faced the wind all alone to the west of her house.  

read on…
aldersprig: (Theocracy)
After Catboys in Cages, to [personal profile] rix_scaedu and [personal profile] thnidu's commissioned continuation.

Content warning: Slavery, bondage, ownership. Also catboy.

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aldersprig: a close up of an alder leaf (Leaf)
Otherwise known as: I had to make 444 words on #4thewords to keep up my streak, and I didn't want to write anything else...

First to @dahob's prompt here and second to Rix's prompt here

On some level, it was a fascinating study in closed genetic populations. This little island had been cut off from everything else since the End Wars. The bridges had been blown, the waters had become impassible, and a series of bad explosions of magic meant that most people didn’t even remember that it existed.

If a Finder hadn’t targeted it as holding useful resources, it might have gone another seventy-five years before anyone noticed it was there.

As it was, the island had a small population that seemed entirely to consist of rabbit-Change fae. They were very rabbity, more so than any other rabbit-Changes the team had ever seen. And they were very definitely at war.
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aldersprig: (Spring)
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.
aldersprig: (Science!)
“The trouble with chickens,” Professor Feltenner had written in her journal, “is that they don’t scale very well. And when they scale up, their instincts do not. They have been domesticated for far too long. What I need is a wild chicken, a chicken who has never been bred for tameness and domesticity. That, then, should be clever enough for what I need.”

Professor Feltenner’s travels into the jungles were the stuff of academic legend. It had become the very morbid joke around the university that if you did not like a student, it was a clever idea to get them to take Feltenner’s classes, because there was a very good chance she would then take them with her on one of her summertime or winter-break expeditions - and then there a very, very good chance that they would not return.

Professor Feltenner, on the other hand, always returned - even that last time, that fateful trip when she came back with one bedraggled grad student, two smallish cages, and a man named Gorvald she claimed to have found in the middle of the jungle. Since Gorvald’s accent spoke of the Rus and the far-Eastern mountain ranges, everyone at the university raised eyes at that - but Gorvald was good with the things in the cages, and someone needed to be. Gods above knew the poor grad student whimpered every time she saw so much as a feather.

“The trouble with chickens ought to be solved by working with a more pure specimen,” Professor Feltenner wrote in her journal. “Today, Gorvald and I begin the experiment on the junglefowl we have acquired. With luck, working from an enlarged junglefowl pair, we can begin breeding better and jucier meat with a much more sensible bird.”

The junglefowls’ thoughts on that were never properly recorded; once they had dealt with Professor Feltenner, they (with brains that scaled up, it seemed, much better than their domestic counterparts’) opened the doors to the lab and fled, taking several carriage-sized domestic fowl with them. You could hear their cries late at night in the forests near the University, and the professors had a new way to rid themselves of difficult students.

aldersprig: (Ruan)
March is Worldbuilding Month! Leave me a question about any of my worlds, and I will do my best to answer it!
This third one is from [personal profile] rix_scaedu:
If the Family in the Aunt Family occasionally splits off anew Family with a new Aunt, where was the original Family? Is it still there? Is there some Family version of “the old country”?

That’s complicated!

Because sometimes branches die out. It requires at least two sisters, after all (or sometimes in rare occasions, brothers, but that’s, as said, rare, and very frowned on, and such), one of which (again, in most cases), remained unmarried, childless, and near her sister’s family. It requires that unmarried sister to at least have the strength to carry the power, and the family branch to have enough power to invest in her.

Sometimes branches are actually wiped out, but that is a rare occurrence in the modern day.

Let’s see.

The original Family came out of England and Germany, and for a long time (legends notwithstanding) was not nearly as formalized an arrangement as it is in the modern day. When the family that believed itself to be the root family moved to the US, they left behind no other sibling groups, but there were several members of the family who were related, carried the spark, and eventually had children of their own.

Note: Not everyone who has power is related to the Family, but they are a broad and deep family-grove with many scions over, by the point, most of the world.

The “original” family at this point would be considered the one that can trace its ancestry back in an unbroken line of Aunts to the first Aunt in America. That actually is Evangaline’s line. It was an aunt of her line who came up with the ritual that collects the power of an already-psychically-skilled family and concentrates the larger portion of it into one person, allowing the family as a whole to have more power than they would otherwise, and allowing the power to be used and directed for bigger and bigger uses.

That happened prior to coming to the U.S., but it was believed, when they moved, that they had brought their entire family and thus their entire power structure with them.
aldersprig: (Shooting star)
January by the numbers continues (now seven days off but I'll get there).

From [personal profile] rix_scaedu's prompt "xerographing xenophobic, xanthophyllous xanthiums;" a fiction vignette of sorts.

Did you Know:So I grew up in Rochester, home of Xerox, and I always thought that xerography came from Xerox, and not the other way around... Nope!

"So, tell me again why exactly we want to photocopy a noxious weed? It's not exactly pleasant to handle, it's no fun to look at, it doesn't taste good, and it's all over the place."

"Well, one." Xavier had his lecture-face on, which was not his most pleasant expression, but Xadrian found that he liked it. "It's not exactly photocopying. Xerography is just making a reproduction of an image..."

"Right, right. I mean, we could just take pictures and copy that, and it would probably be less unpleasant." It had fallen to Xadrian to gather the stuff, and even with gloves involved, his hands were not pleased with him. "Wouldn't that be a lot better?"

"The problem is, as unpleasant as the xanthium is, it has an advantage nothing else on this blasted island does. It's xanthophyllous."

"It loves yellow?"

"It makes a yellow pigment. And that may not seem like such an important thing to you at the moment, but the thing is, we don't have any yellow anywhere else here. Nothing but clothes we brought with us, and those are fading. Not to mention, they protect eyes from ionizing blue and ultraviolet light... anyway, this noxious mess is important."

"So we're photocopying it." The thing was, Xadrian might have been a xenozoologist rather than a xenoherbologist, but he knew what he was talking about. He just loved teasing Xavier. It got him this lovely lecture-face reaction, and sometimes increasingly detailed explanations until Xavier figured out he was being put on. "This nasty thing."

"We're dupli - yes. And maybe you should be the one to pull it apart for the duplicator, too. And then you can make the yellow dye we're going to use, and feed the rest to the chickens, and..."

"Next time I want to play dumb," Xadrian muttered, "I'll go bother Xena."

"She'd have you xerograph the proto-xenops. And those things hate outsiders." Xavier's smile was far too pleased with himself. "Now, take your gloves off. You're going to need your dexterity to get these thorns into the machine."

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aldersprig: (luke)
Part One
Addergoole-verse, Early 2012 (in the middle of the Apocalypse)
Written to [personal profile] rix_scaedu's commission.
I do not have an Agmund icon. But here's Luke looking uncomfortable about the whole thing.

The boy was not happy about Agmund’s presence, but he was more than willing to lay out the details of the attack. The Nedetakaei nest had at least ten human hostages, was in the middle of what had been a very populous area before the gods came to town, and had been lain with booby-traps, Worked wards, and at least three explosive trip-lines.
Read more... )
aldersprig: (me-lyn-kitty)
Addergoole-verse, Early 2012 (in the middle of the Apocalypse)
I was thinking about Luke during the apoc, his oaths, and... his friends

Agmund Fridmar was, of course, not unaware that his cy'ree, his Students, and those called cy'Luca, Luke Hawk's Students, were in a bit of a cy'ree battle, and had been since there were more than three of them to glare at each other across the Dining Hall.

But his Students' animosity toward Luke's Students - and, sometimes, he supposed, towards the man himself - did not mean that Agmund had to feel anything of the sort, nor did the cy'Luca's animosity towards cy'Fridmar and towards Agmund mean that he couldn't help out Luke in a tough spot.

And the fact of the matter was, Luke was in a tough spot right now, although he would probably have preferred that Agmund and the other professors didn't take notice. There was a war raging - or, at least, there were dozens and dozens of battles raging, and if you shook them all out, you could see two or three sides that were relatively consistent. There were cy'Luca, former cy'Luca but still the same wide-eyed, eager Warriors for Good, out there fighting against ancient would-be gods. They were losing, on average, but there were doing far more good than one might imagine they would have, and their wins were spectacular.
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Part II:
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)

It is written to a commissioned present for [ profile] rix_scaedu as a continuation of Insta-Cure and Soul Fire from my Summer Giraffe Call.

Betsy and Aspen looked at each other again, then looked back at Topher. They looked at each other, then at Topher. On the third look, they tackled him, Betsy with a pillow, Aspen aiming for the tickle offense.

Topher fell back, trying to fend off both of them without grabbing anything inappropriate. “What?”
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aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)

This is the next post in the 'Rescue, of Sorts' storyline, which can be found at this tag:

It is written to a commissioned present for [personal profile] clare_dragonfly, as well as to [ profile] kelkyag's prompt here for my Summer Giraffe Call and a very-requested line item to my Finish It? request.

The wedding was the sort of pomp-and-circumstance affair you’d expect from a nation in the middle of a long peacetime, not one that was attacked on nearly a weekly basis. It was rich and extravagant, and if the coffers of the Duchy and some of the King and Queen’s own money had been plundered to pay for it, so had many people donated time and materials to the event as well.
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aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)

Written to [ profile] rix_scaedu' commissioned continuation of Insta-Cure from my Summer Giraffe Call.

Aspen pulled the candles and fake logs from the fireplace and whispered a quick spell, unstoppering the chimney. “Fire,” she murmured, pleased with herself. “All right, Toph, Betsy, there are eight candles in there. Arrange them in a half-circle around the fireplace, and then we’re going to put you in the middle, Toph, and we’re going to focus on the problem.”

“No, uh-unh.” He shook his head emphatically. “That’s how we end up with the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.”

“No, no. That’s how we ended up with the nice shield over this block, remember? It’s not always like Ghostbusters, bub.”

Topher sighed loudly. “All right, all right. We can focus on the problem. Which is me, yeah? Me is the problem?”
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aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)

Written to [ profile] rix_scaedu' prompt here to my Summer Giraffe Call Round 2

The sun was up. It had been raining for a week, and the plants did not need any more water.

Patrice suited up in leather, long gloves and shit-kicker boots, and risked stepping out onto her front porch.

She could hear sirens in the distance. She wondered if they'd cleared Main Street yet. She wondered what had happened with their "controlled burn." She'd told them it was too wet for that. She was told them they needed to find the source, but the thing was too good at distracting them from the core.
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aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)

Written to [ profile] rix_scaedu's prompt(s) here to my Summer Giraffe Call.

“What was that? Up there in the bushes?”

“Damn it, Shane, get out of my line of fire!” Donna looked up as Shane darted up into the brush, crossing in front of her not once but twice. “You’d think you’d never had any training at all, the way you’ve been bouncing everywhere this morning!”

“Sorry, chief, it’s just…” Shane ducked down behind a thorny bush, “there’s all sorts of…”
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aldersprig: (GIRAFFE!)
Written to [ profile] rix_scaedu's prompt here to my Summer Giraffe Call.

It was nearly dawn when they finally got to bed. Gabi was exhausted, and she was certain that her wife was, too. Still, they were both flopped across the blankets, awake, staring at the ceiling.

“It’s an infestation,” Alex finally said.

“It’s my family,” Gabi countered, without much heat behind the protest. “You agreed to this?” It was more an apology than it was a defense.
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aldersprig: (Gremlin)
Never Try to Steal a Dweomer
Backpack Gremlins (LJ)
Hunting Junie I (LJ)
Hunting Junie II (LJ)
Hunting Junie III (LJ)
Red Covers (LJ)
Bounty (LJ)
Team D (LJ)
Victimization (LJ)

This runs to 3800 words.

There was a man - a human man, a bog-standard boring kidnapping human, normal and plain as they came - picking up an unconscious dweomer child, and Kelkathian and Azdekious were doing nothing at all to stop him.
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Buy the
some tea
aldersprig: (Shooting star)
E-mail box clean out continues!
This is to a combination of [ profile] lilfluff's and [ profile] rix_scaedu's prompts here

"I don't believe in aliens." The elf lord stuck his chin out and glared at the gathered others. "There is life aplenty on this planet, for one. For another, the stars are gods-lights trailing across the ceiling of the world. There is no place for these 'alien beings' to come from."

Others on the council nodded their heads. "There are the gods, but they do not visit this planet except in cases of extreme emergency." A grey-haired elf ticked off points on her long fingers. "There are us, the fae of Underhill and the Hidden Vale. There are humans. There are the water-borne, who are neither fae nor human. That is more than enough for anyone to deal with."

The messenger cleared his throat uncomfortably. Up until a week ago, he hadn't believed in aliens either - and until half an hour ago, he hadn't believed in elves. "Be that as it may, ma'am, sir, everyone... but the aliens want a breeding pair of unicorns, and you are our last hope of finding any."

Tip Box ;-)
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
[ profile] rix_scaedu's commissioned continuation of Mentor-Student. Her name is Eurydice; it just never comes up in conversation.

“Well,” Doug admitted to the angry young woman in front of him, “we’re stuck with each other. They think we can work together.”

His Student - or so it seemed it was going to be - raised her eyebrow at him. “You sound so thrilled. Don’t go throwing me a party or anything.”

“Well,” Doug grunted, both embarrassed and annoyed, “you’re right. It’s not how it’s supposed to go.”

“Wait.” She leaned forward. “Say that again.”

Doug didn’t bother asking which part she wanted to hear. He could guess. “You’re right.”

“Awww, yeah.” She lit her lighter again. “I could get used to that. So you don’t like ‘em screwing with the system, either. So why’d they stick you with me? We can ‘work together?’ What’s that code for? You can brainwash me better?”
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aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
A very small continuation of ♪Brown Paper Packages♫ and ...Tied up with String.

It's Addergoole, so all AG warnings apply. Suggestions of [former abuse] (highlight for spoilers, if those count in a 125-word ficlet).

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Tip Package ;-)
aldersprig: (Rin)
after this and written in response to [ profile] rix_scaedu's comment.

The science of psychometry was still frowned upon by many of Tekemuzh's colleagues, he knew. They said it was folly and superstition; they said that it was a misuse of the aether if it worked at all, and certainly it wouldn't really work. Usually, they stopped after he managed to make his "parlour tricks" reveal something about them they would have rather he hadn't said.

He could have done without Aetherist Ovanobina calling him in to this particular task, however. Bones upon bones upon bones... and the silver vein that had led the miners to this dig.

"Tell us." Ovanobina pulled Tekemuzh to the first in a long row of skeletons. "I want to know how they died."

"Well," Tekemuzh coughed, "there's the problem, of course, that if they didn't die with any major trauma or any surge of aeth..." He trailed off as his fingers brushed the first skeleton. "Oh. Oh by the Three."

He sat back, trying to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged. She had bled out, slowly and in pain, next to the still-warm corpse of her sister. She had died, bleeding aether into the very rock. "I think..." Tekemuzh swallowed and tried again. "I think it was a ritual."
aldersprig: (Rin)
written to [personal profile] rix_scaedu's prompt here: Rin on finding out she can't escape being Empress.
Written rather after the extant stuff.

Rin had been staring at paperwork for well over four hours. She had every archivist, priest, librarian, scholar, and historian in the entity of Lannamer looking over the papers with her.

Finally, her distant cousin Indiekdiek shook his head. "It is possible. It would pass the inheritance on to one of them, however. And because they are not considered unsuitable, we couldn't simply get them removed from succession."

"And marrying Girey? That doesn't make me ineligible?"

"You married a prince." Indiek shook his head at her. "To quote the Empress Akatarinakata, 'it matters not why other nations seek to put crowns on their people. We will give them the courtesy of assuming they are at least as stringent as us.' Well, that's a bit of a paraphrase."

Rin looked over at the Empress Akatarinakata's biography. The woman had won wars riding at the very front of the raids. "I'm not going to argue with her, at least, no matter how long she's been dead."
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
This is [ profile] rix_scaedu's commissioned continuation of In the Forest and Through the Forest.

Keita made her way down to the ground, landing with a thump in front of her pursuer. “Do you know what happens to people who chase me deep into the forest I live in?”

Her voice sounded hoarse to her. She’d meant it to sound intimidating, although the truth of the matter was that mostly she spooked them off or they got lost.

Solomon raised his eyebrows. “I imagine that you tend to discourage them. Keita, if it was within my power to leave you here, I would. It’s clear you’re happy here. More than that, it’s clear that, for the moment, at least, you’re safe here.”

“What do you mean, ‘for the moment?’” She glowered at him. “I survived winter. I survived creepy monsters screaming overhead. Whatever that was, the dragon apocalypse or something. I survived the freaking army making a base in my backyard.”

“It’s impressive. Am I correct in guessing you ran away before the, ah, ‘dragon apocalypse?’”
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aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
This is written to [ profile] rix_scaedu's commissioned continuation of Bound Up from the Christmas Prompt Call

Fae Apoc, unwilling Keeping, bondage, nudity

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aldersprig: an egyptian sandcat looking out of a terra-cotta pipe (Default)
To [ profile] rix_scaedu's prompt Fae Apoc, probably around 2009, 2010.

The call came from an unknown number, straight to voicemail. When he listened to it hours later, his heart dropped.

"It's time."

There was no return number, no way for him to protest. He called his assistant and had him rearrange his schedule for the next three days. "Something's come up. Family matter."

It was only a lie if you had a narrow view of what family meant. He told his pilot where to go, then told him to wait two days before returning without him. "I'm not sure how long this will take."

That was absolutely the truth.

He straightened his tie, smoothed his sleeves one more time, and made sure his vest was properly buttoned. Her house was not so large as all that, but rather than screaming of new money, its old bones whispered it in every column.
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aldersprig: (AylaWorried)
Written to [personal profile] rix_scaedu's prompt

Callis had finally gotten the last of the babies to sleep when someone knocked on the door.

He didn't so much sigh as slump with his entire body, and even that he only indulged in for a half a breath. He gestured to Mike, nearly as old as he was, and to Candace, who might only be twelve but was murder with a rifle. Odile would have to watch the babies, and then they'd have to go through the whole process of getting them to sleep again. But that was later. Right now, there was the threat at the door.

Callis leaned his body over from the side to peek out the view port. They’d learned that the hard way, in their last hide-out. They’d learned a lot of things the hard way.

A man was standing in front of the peephole, his hands up and empty. “Callis Avondale? I’m just here to talk.”

Callis looked back at Mike and Candace. They were frowning, worried. The babies were stirring. Colby, the youngest, had started crying. If he stood here and shouted through the door, the kids were just going to get worked up. “Stand back and keep your hands where I can see him.”

Candace stepped up into position. Callis might not survive this, but their attacker would last about three seconds after his first strike. He took a breath and another breath and steeled himself, then pushed the door open.

The man standing on the other side was shorter than Callis, but muscular like he’d never missed a meal. His t-shirt was clean and his jeans didn’t have any holes, and neither did his sneakers.


“That’s me.” His skin was itching just standing here, looking at this clean guy with his perfect shoes.

“My name’s Luke Hunting-Hawk. We have a place for you in a school, a safe place with food and water.” His gaze clearly took in Callis’ ripped clothes.

“All of us?”

“All… Your friends?”
Read more... )
aldersprig: (Lyn Calenyena Rin)
Day and Night!

[personal profile] rix_scaedu asked for Day and Night, which is coincidental, because tomorrow's Edally holiday post is IetTienaabaa, which means "The Day of Tienaabaa."

Iettie, actually, is day in the sense of a a whole day, from sunrise to sunrise, while Ietta is most often day in the sense of "day of;" birthday, gods' day, coronation day.

The time from sunrise to sunset is anez /'a nez/, meaning, from sun to stars, and the word for night comes from the old phrase Odyidai ahkaarununu, "demons come." While the word for "demons" in this sense is lost to history, it is still seen in words like dyid, darkness, and odyaikaar, night.

(If you are guessing that the Calenyena historically had an unpleasant relationship with nighttime...)
aldersprig: (Lyn Calenyena Rin)
[personal profile] rix_scaedu asked for parties!

To begin with, we'll want the word for party, which comes from lok, meal, and rook, tribe or family group: lok-ryu-rook (meal for the whole tribe), Lokurook. From this word you get Lokook, /lō 'ko͝ok/ party, as well as lokozh, a grand festival or large meal at a gathering.

(See the post on trade).

Recently, the term lokurdin - from derdin, friends, from diednerdin (obsolete), who who trusts another, from ner, trust - has risen to prominence. A meal-for-friends is a completely social gathering, often with alcoholic drinks featuring heavily.
aldersprig: (Tairiekie)
[ profile] rix_scaedu asked for braids. Woo-eee!

Braids are a really important part of Calenyena life and culture. What began as a simple method of keeping hair out of one's face and off one's neck became a complex and ever-evolving status and fashion symbol.

I've already got the words:

tezyu - goat-hair

lanut - braid

And lanutez - goat-hair braid: someone who is pretending to be something they're not, a poser.
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aldersprig: (Taslin)
This story is set in the world of the Circled Plains and the serial Jumping Rings, but stands alone.

It is written in reply to [ profile] Rix's suggestion to this request for questions, after the successful Domain Name Fundraiser.

I still need more questions! I have answered the two asked and need three more.

Read more... )
aldersprig: an egyptian sandcat looking out of a terra-cotta pipe (Default)
This story starts in the middle of Doug Gets a Hug and ends after it. Doug, Ana, and Teal are Addergoole characters.

The girl had a boy. So help him, Doug was not going to make it through her four years sane.

She - Ana, Anastasia the dancer, Ana the pert, Ana oro'Willow - didn't exactly have a boy, because Teal himself had an oro' at the end of his name, and his Keeper was the possessive sort. But when Teal and Ana danced - and Teal danced, of course he did - Doug could watch the sparks. And that wasn't all he could watch. It was a good thing neither Keeper was in the habit of visiting their dance practices.

He wasn't going to survive the next four years, but it might be a fun way to go crazy.


She'd been waiting for him the day after Willow left, leaning against his apartment door and wearing a little trenchcoat that was unseasonable, unneeded inside, and entirely tantalizing.

She'd at least waited until they were inside his apartment - but not until the door was all the way closed - to show him exactly how much she wasn't wearing underneath. And then, for several athletic, dexterous, and wonderful hours, she'd shown him quite a few other things.

Doug was happy. He was actually smiling, something he couldn't quite remember doing before, or at least not in quite a while. But, being himself, he couldn't help poking at it.

"What about the boy?" She had her head pillowed on his chest, so he was talking to the top of her head. "You like him."

She looked up at him, a smile dancing on her lips. "Nobody ever said I only had to 'like' one person." The smile slipped, her expression and her voice suddenly serious. "Did they?"
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
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.
Read more... )

♪When the dog bites, when the bee stings...♫
aldersprig: (Aldersprig Leaves Raining)
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♫


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

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