April 21, 2008 at 7:00 pm (Aruna, Bewitchments, Cal, Cobweb, Enchantments, Forever, Galhea, Megalithica, Swift, Thevina, Tyson, Varr)
Spoilers: Bewitchments, Book 1
Word count: 3,000
Alerts/Author’s Notes: Rooning. Inspired by these three sentences from The Bewitchments of Love and Hate:
Sometimes, Cal would come to my room at night. Sometimes we would only sleep together, needing company, but other times, we would scream and struggle and tear at each other until the dawn. He was voracious and the merest touch of him kindled my responsive frenzy.
A dear friend recently read Wraeththu due to my saying how much I’d fallen in love with it, and she asked very nicely if I’d write a short Cal/Swift. This is for her. PWP.
Author web site: http://www.thrihyrne.net
I panted so loudly I barely had breath for the word. My chest heaved and when it did, Ithiel’s knife cut my skin above the heart. His eyes, the pupils mere dots in the attentive irises, flickered down to the blood starting to well up. He stepped back, only a shadow space.
“Your mind is too open,” he said in a low voice. “If I were a human you could probably still kill me. A Gelaming, you’d be putty. Or dead. Block me!”
With the speed of a lashing snake, I grabbed his wrist, the one holding his dagger, and leaned into the keen edge. His eyes widened comically. “What the hell are you doing?”
“If it were a Gelaming, I’d push myself onto the knife. A straight pierce to the heart, and it would be over.”
He jerked his torso back, but with deadly grace, had the knife on me again, this time at my throat, grazing my jaw. I stiffened, my own dagger having been knocked to the ground. I’d struggled with mind control to try and retrieve it, but I was nowhere near strong enough.
“Don’t you ever be a Varrish martyr, Swift,” he rumbled. “I’m teaching you how to survive, not die some needless, romantic-seeming death. We’re done for today.”
I eased away with extreme caution, unsure as to whether or not he’d take me by surprise one more time, but his entire demeanor and carriage had changed. He always held himself at the ready, his body poised to defend those he served and cared for. I’d now spent enough time with him to pick up on the ebb and flow of his energy and focus. Ithiel had relaxed, physically, but his mind was pulling apart my words as though they were thick taffy.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Calanthe.”
It was a statement, not a question. I didn’t know why it mattered.
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April 16, 2008 at 7:11 pm (AU, Bewitchments, Cobweb, Eldraug, Enchantments, Forever, Galhea, Harling, Megalithica, Short, Silly, Terzian, Tyson, Varr)
Rating: Hmm. PG. I think. I’ve never posted non-smuttage before.
Author’s notes: VERY AU – as always. Ty is about three in this – at that fun age when harlings know everything and their parents are total idiots in their minds.
Beta: Three guesses. As, always, TNT.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing. It’s all Storm Constantine’s – character, places, etc. The brain is still on lease-to-own option and I just finished my last Diet Coke. Such is my life.
Summary: Terzian gets Tyson ready for bed.
“NO! I won’t! You can’t make me!”
With one well-aimed kick, Tyson had freed himself from Terzian’s arms. While the Varr was doubled over in pain, Tyson leapt off the floor where he has been dumped when harling foot had connected with ouana-lim. The harling looked up at his father then bolted down the long hallway. He skittered into Cobweb’s sitting rooms and hid under the couch panting softly.
Feeling smug about getting the best of his father, he didn’t keep a good eye out for Terzian’s boots coming into the room. Tyson soon found himself being yanked out from under the couch and whisked into his father’s tight grip. The harling tried to place another liberating kick but Terzian was expecting it and tucked the squirming harling under his arm so Tyson’s feet flailed safely behind him.
“Tyson,” Terzian began evenly. “You need a bath.”
“No. I don’t,” Ty answered, cocking one eyebrow and looking very much like his hostling.
Terzian sighed through his nose and said, “Yes. You do. You smell and Cobweb will have a fit if you get into bed like that.”
“You don’t have to tell him,” Tyson suggested, smiling.
Terzian had reached the end of his patience. Putting the harling down, he growled softly, “Tyson. Get naked and into the bath. Now.”
“Fine!” Tyson shouted. He stomped back down the hall, grumbling about not stinking and Cobweb not even being there and that he didn’t have to know everything. He grudgingly stripped off, dumping his clothes in a pile on the floor of Cobweb and Terzian’s bedroom and stomped into the bathroom. He stared at the tub.
Terzian poked his head around the door. Tyson stood, his arms crossed and tapping his foot while frowning. It took all his Varrish control for Terzian not to burst out laughing. The harling looked ridiculous, trying to look fierce while stand in the bathroom naked. Clearing his throat, he came into the bathroom.
“There’s no bubbles,” Tyson pouted.
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April 2, 2008 at 8:31 pm (Abrimel, Abuse, Arahal, Ariaric, Aruna, Ashmael, AU, Azriel, Bewitchments, Cal, Cedony, Chrysm, Cobweb, Conception, Dree, Enchantments, Epic, Eyra, Flick, Forever, Fulfilments, Galhea, Gelaming, Glave, Harling, Hosting, Immanion, Leef, Long, Major OC, Maudrah, Megalithica, Panthera, Parasiel, Pell, Phylax, Romance, Rue, Seel, Swift, Tessa, Tharmifex, Tyson, Vaysh, War, Zack)
The Seducements of Chaos and Order
Disclaimer: All characters, the universe and concepts belong exclusively to Storm Constantine. I receive no profit and no gain from this amateur story. No harm is intended in any way.
Rating: NC17 – For adult themes and m/m content. Profanity. Violence. Rape. Please be warned. If you are under age in your area, or this subject matter offends you, please press the ‘delete’ key now.
Credits: Warmest thanks to Storm Constantine for creating these wonderful novels and characters.
Author: Tessa (firstname.lastname@example.org)
The Seducements of Chaos and Order.
Straightening his silken collar, Calanthe cast an apprehensive glance over at his son. Jaden.
Jaden was just over seven now, and he was about to go through his formal Feybraiha Celebration, which would mark him as a Har. Would mark him as an adult. And for some reason it was making Cal nervous. He released a breath, moving to stand in front of the long wall mirror. Its reflection only mirrored the concealed ache – confusion and pain in his soul. The knowledge that …
So much had happened in the last seven years, most of it good, but some he wished he could erase the memories completely. Forever.
It had now been almost eight and a half years since his whirlwind arrival in Immanion: since his confrontation with Thiede, and his transformation to Tigron with his heart’s desire, Pellaz.
Almost a life time ago.
So much had happened, and he could look back on the early memories now with pleasure, remembering how awkward and unreasonable both he and Pellaz had been during his first year in Phaonica. Initially they had accepted each other, not really knowing if their dreams of love were still valid, which ultimately had led to arguments. Yet as Tigron there had been no doubt of their unity, of their strength and power. Neither could deny the rightness of what Thiede had attempted, just his methods. And as a whole the Wraeththu nation had, and was still, benefiting.
Yet personally, he and Pellaz had lost their way. Thinking about it now brought a half smile to Calanthe’s lips, and he looked at himself in the mirror again.
Vividly, he recalled how things had gone wrong, how they had fought and argued privately, neither wanting to concede. It had amazed him as to how contorted Pellaz’ view of his life had been. How twisted the other’s memories had become. How well Thiede had manipulated them both so that when they finally did reunite, the dream had faded and bitterness had blossomed. He had moved out of the Tigron’s official rooms and into his own suite within the first month. The Hegemony had breathed a collective sigh of relief with his move, just as sick as he was of their private bickering. He just could not reconcile the image he had of his Pellaz with the creature who inhabited the body he desired. Pellaz’ cold, business-like attitude and finely perfected art of manipulation had initially horrified him until he forced himself to look under the facade. He found shock… Pure and simple shock at being faced with the past, and being given the unobtainable had devastated Pellaz’ exquisitely honed sensibilities.
It had taken them both a while to come to terms with everything that had happened, initially forcing them to remain apart. Ashmael had delighted in the change and seized upon him to tour in order to reinforce the new rulership changes. Ashmael and Arahal. Those two Hara seemed to be always working toward some hidden agenda which neither he nor Pellaz were privy to, and it had not taken him long back then to learn how to sidestep the strategist and exert his own control.
And of course, inevitably to add to the confusion already crowding his life, Tyson had arrived in Immanion to search out his Hostling. Even now Cal found himself cringing in memory as he looked around for a cigarette. Lighting it, he sucked in a deep breath, obscuring his image in the long mirror as he exhaled.
Tyson. His son to Tersian. A Harling he had consented to have for purely selfish reasons. Because Tersian wanted it so badly… Because Cobweb feared it so badly… Because he no longer cared.
Caeru, predictably, had had hysterics, feeling threatened by this new arrival. He had not felt too comfortable himself about Tyson’s presence, yet…. Yet it was Pellaz who had taken a perverse delight in the chaos created by the pure-born’s visitation. And that was only because Caeru had bitched to him about the Parasiel Har, making him curious. From there things had degenerated as Pellaz deliberately charmed his son. But what had started out harmlessly as another personal dig at him by Pellaz had turned out affecting them both more than either cared to acknowledge.
Just another spark in their privately created hell.
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