Fourcount - Fudge Ripple, Chocolate Chip Mint, Chocolate, Cookies N' Cream, Sour Apple
I've started arranging blood princess in arcs so it's not a pathetic mishmash of things without timeline. A general order breakdown: Godhood -> Fairhood -> Falsehood -> Motherhood. Just so you know what comes when.
... ALSO, HI GUYS, I SWEAR I'M NOT DEAD.
Author: Thai
Challenge: Fudge Ripple #26 - anguish, Chocolate #27 - determination, Cookies 'N Cream #23 - break
Topping: Hot Fudge (Rocmother-centric)
Rating: PG-13 - pre-piece character death
Timeline: pre-story; prologue Motherhood arc
Story: blood princess
Word Count: 774
She sat among the ruins of her future with her hands in her lap and her legs - human, human, too human - tucked underneath her.
The midday sun was hot above her, baking the shards of egg around her. White shell, spattered with the blue of a summer's sky; here, a delicate scrap of violet - the creature encased within this egg had been male. Her son.
Her eyes were as blue as the shattered shells around her, dull with pain and grief. Her fingers were long, and they moved stiffly and reluctantly when she reached for the purple shard. Yet they were skilled and agile and they accomplished so much more than claws did.
The shard of eggshell was slick with a clear, faintly aquamarine-tinged liquid; it coated her hands like saliva, a thick goo that smelled of child and death. She cradled it in her hands almost lovingly - this is all I have of him, she thought, this is all they have left me.
The humans had worn away at her realm until her people had only this corner of the world - only these skies were safe for them to fly. They'd taken her husband from her, jeering at him, laughing at him - he'd died with a human face, not even permitted to take on his feathers. And now - and now, they'd -
The shattered piece of eggshell crunched almost musically in her hands, and when she spread her hands the miniscule fragments tinkled down onto the carpet of black feathers. Distantly she remembered plucking these feathers - her breast had been so bare for the winter, but her children had been warm. They would have been warm if they'd been allowed to live.
Slowly, she stood up. The weak human joints of her knees creaked, her fragile human back protested as she straightened. The stench of death was almost worse from this height, and her keen eyes picked out things she hadn't seen before. Another purple fragment - she'd have had two boys. A vaguely warped piece of shell - twins. She might have had twin girls. An almost-intact egg, barely larger than a fetal human infant - a defect. This child would have been different. This child would be smaller, or never be able to change, or--
It was as if someone had breathed into her ear; she froze, the only movement her hair being buffeted about by the wind.
It was an illusion, she reminded herself, and relaxed. They are all dead. The humans didn't leave a single one behind; they took all my children, my sons and my daughters--
There it was again, that imperceptible sound - a slight shifting, a liquid sort of motion that she had heard so often, sitting here in the midday sun with her husband. A familiar sound, that noise that meant life, life.
Hardly daring to breathe she approached the egg; her hands clutched at her chest as if seeking to rend her heart from it. Life, life, she thought, and barely noticed the crunch of shell beneath her as she knelt besides the egg. A touch; a touch, and then -
It was warm and she could feel the pulses under her fingers, could feel the motion of her baby and oh thank you mothers she thought, almost dizzy with euphoria and a strange sort of madness. Thank you for sparing this one, oh, thank you mothers.
"Hello, baby," she crooned, and ohhh it was so heavy in her arms. This egg, so small and so fragile, fit perfectly in her lap, its smooth surface tucking neatly against her belly. My baby, she thought, with a sort of horrible triumph - the humans had stolen her kingdom and her lover and the future of her children, but they had missed this one - they'd missed this one and this egg with the sky-blue speckles -
"Asma," she murmured, and the egg was warm beneath her hand. "My daughter. Princess Asma - you're the only one left. Ah, princess - "
Her arms tightened around this egg, this last egg. I will not let you die at their hands, baby. Your brothers and sisters - you cannot hold that pain in your heart. I know you will be different, but you will be Asma - you will reign supreme.
You will have to.
"We'll kill them, baby," the Rocmother said softly, almost cooing to the egg in her embrace. "No human will harm you, darling; we'll cut them down until there's no one in the world but us. Then we'll be safe. Then you'll be safe. I promise."
Author: Thai
Challenge: Chocolate #11 - confusion, Chocolate Chip Mint #13 - dazzling
Rating: PG
Story: blood princess
Timeline: Falsehood arc
Word Count: 264
"I can't change either."
The bauble nearly slipped from Asma's fingers, and it was only thanks to Astor that it did not shatter on the floor; his touch was burning in comparison to the sphere when he pressed it back into her hands.
"What?"
The glass sphere in her hands was as blue as the eyes that regarded her; slowly, Astor leaned forward, trapping the azure bauble between them. Their lips met.
As always it sent a steady burn through her, radiating out from her face and stabbing deep into her heart. As if someone had peeled away her skin and replaced it with warm ash. Haytham's touch was cool, and made her shiver; but this was heat, and this was love, and Astor was still as beautiful as the day he had returned her plaything.
The sphere fell from her nerveless fingers, and as quickly as she could blink Astor had caught it, smirking at her as if to say I told you so.
"So," Asma said breathlessly, when she could finally say something. "What was that you said?"
"I can't change either." He shrugged, as if it were nothing, but that wasn't nothing, that was--!
"What do you mean? Why not?"
Now the paler Roc looked faintly uneasy, and he looked away. Look at me! Tell me! She wasn't the pathetic princess anymore, she wasn't the only Roc in existence who couldn't wear her rightful feathers--
"Tell you later," Astor muttered, and Asma's heart deflated.
He wouldn't tell her later. Whenever he said that, it meant he wouldn't tell her at all.
Author: Thai
Challenge: Sour Apple #3 - it's not you, it's me, Chocolate Chip Mint #12 - warped, Fudge Ripple #9 - distraction
Rating: PG
Story: blood princess
Timeline: Falsehood arc
Word Count: 594
Everything was inside-out and upside-down, and for a long time she wandered around in a kind of daze. She avoided the gazes of everyone who tried to look at her, ignored the voice which told her to look at them, flinched away from the touches intended to garner her attention.
She'd been an annoyance. She saw that now. She'd been a childish distraction to him. She'd dragged him into loving her, like she'd dragged Haytham into bedding her and Janan into caring for her.
Her instincts had been wrong. This wasn't Astor's fault, the way that they looked at her - with respect and a sickening distrust. It was hers.
"Since I was small," she said aloud, and Janan looked up in surprise. Asma paid no attention. "I met him when I was small, and -"
He'd taught her a great many things. Dancing. Laughter. The warmth of his arms around her at night.
Love.
But that was in the past. He'd lied to her, too, and he'd hidden things from her that a lover should know. He'd pretended to be something he was not, and she'd killed the leading lady in his fantasy play.
When she was small she'd loved him. She'd touched his face when he taught her how to read and he always used to laugh at her, but -
She was a child. His face was ageless, they were all immortal and beautiful, but she was a seventeen-year-old child and how old was he? A hundred years old? Two hundred?
He'd seen the world and all she knew of it was this palace.
"I didn't love you, you know," she told Haytham almost conversationally, as soon as Janan was out of earshot. "I liked the way your hair looked in the sun. And I liked the way you smiled. You were very kind to everyone - except for me."
But he'd taught her how to fly. Not in the way that was important to everyone else in this godforsaken palace, but the way he flew. He had no wings, but his music -
Perhaps when she first danced to his compositions, that was when she fell in love. Before then, it was only a fleeting desire, a child-fancy.
Could he identify the moment he fell in love with her? Could she?
No.
Because he'd never fallen in love with her at all.
She couldn't dance anymore, Asma noted, after the third time she stumbled over her own sash. Maybe it was the way she didn't eat anymore.
Or maybe she should ask the pianist to play different music.
They told her always - come out, Asma, they wheedled, waving their fingers as if coaxing a cat. Come out and play, you cannot stay in the dark all day.
Oh yes? Asma always said back to them. Watch me.
She only looked, though. She didn't want to waste her voice.
He had betrayed her, Asma realized, after the first time she collapsed by her window. He had betrayed her.
But, Asma knew, it was only her fault that he had. Her grip was not tight enough, and her feet were not fleet enough; she could not hold him and she could not run after him. All she could do was hurt what was keeping him from her, even if he wanted that thing, even if he needed it. She was selfish and childish and she could only wish that he would stay, because he never would.
And, Asma finally realized, it was really much better that way, for both of them.
Author: Thai
Challenge: Chocolate Chip Mint #26 - battered, Sour Apple #10 - now you've done it, Chocolate #9 - resentment
Rating: G
Story: blood princess
Timeline: Motherhood arc
Extra: Pocky
Word Count: 82
"You're pathetic."
Asma flinched. The words were sharper than a whip, and dug into her, leaving welts on her heart. They stung more than the handprint still burning on her cheek.
Her mother stared at her. Coolly. Coldly.
Then she walked away, sandals slapping on the stone corridor floor. And Asma was free to sag against the rocky wall, free to spin like the girl in the fairy tale; except instead of straw into gold, she was spinning her sorrow into rage.
--
As always, blood princess is also archived here.
... ALSO, HI GUYS, I SWEAR I'M NOT DEAD.
Author: Thai
Challenge: Fudge Ripple #26 - anguish, Chocolate #27 - determination, Cookies 'N Cream #23 - break
Topping: Hot Fudge (Rocmother-centric)
Rating: PG-13 - pre-piece character death
Timeline: pre-story; prologue Motherhood arc
Story: blood princess
Word Count: 774
She sat among the ruins of her future with her hands in her lap and her legs - human, human, too human - tucked underneath her.
The midday sun was hot above her, baking the shards of egg around her. White shell, spattered with the blue of a summer's sky; here, a delicate scrap of violet - the creature encased within this egg had been male. Her son.
Her eyes were as blue as the shattered shells around her, dull with pain and grief. Her fingers were long, and they moved stiffly and reluctantly when she reached for the purple shard. Yet they were skilled and agile and they accomplished so much more than claws did.
The shard of eggshell was slick with a clear, faintly aquamarine-tinged liquid; it coated her hands like saliva, a thick goo that smelled of child and death. She cradled it in her hands almost lovingly - this is all I have of him, she thought, this is all they have left me.
The humans had worn away at her realm until her people had only this corner of the world - only these skies were safe for them to fly. They'd taken her husband from her, jeering at him, laughing at him - he'd died with a human face, not even permitted to take on his feathers. And now - and now, they'd -
The shattered piece of eggshell crunched almost musically in her hands, and when she spread her hands the miniscule fragments tinkled down onto the carpet of black feathers. Distantly she remembered plucking these feathers - her breast had been so bare for the winter, but her children had been warm. They would have been warm if they'd been allowed to live.
Slowly, she stood up. The weak human joints of her knees creaked, her fragile human back protested as she straightened. The stench of death was almost worse from this height, and her keen eyes picked out things she hadn't seen before. Another purple fragment - she'd have had two boys. A vaguely warped piece of shell - twins. She might have had twin girls. An almost-intact egg, barely larger than a fetal human infant - a defect. This child would have been different. This child would be smaller, or never be able to change, or--
It was as if someone had breathed into her ear; she froze, the only movement her hair being buffeted about by the wind.
It was an illusion, she reminded herself, and relaxed. They are all dead. The humans didn't leave a single one behind; they took all my children, my sons and my daughters--
There it was again, that imperceptible sound - a slight shifting, a liquid sort of motion that she had heard so often, sitting here in the midday sun with her husband. A familiar sound, that noise that meant life, life.
Hardly daring to breathe she approached the egg; her hands clutched at her chest as if seeking to rend her heart from it. Life, life, she thought, and barely noticed the crunch of shell beneath her as she knelt besides the egg. A touch; a touch, and then -
It was warm and she could feel the pulses under her fingers, could feel the motion of her baby and oh thank you mothers she thought, almost dizzy with euphoria and a strange sort of madness. Thank you for sparing this one, oh, thank you mothers.
"Hello, baby," she crooned, and ohhh it was so heavy in her arms. This egg, so small and so fragile, fit perfectly in her lap, its smooth surface tucking neatly against her belly. My baby, she thought, with a sort of horrible triumph - the humans had stolen her kingdom and her lover and the future of her children, but they had missed this one - they'd missed this one and this egg with the sky-blue speckles -
"Asma," she murmured, and the egg was warm beneath her hand. "My daughter. Princess Asma - you're the only one left. Ah, princess - "
Her arms tightened around this egg, this last egg. I will not let you die at their hands, baby. Your brothers and sisters - you cannot hold that pain in your heart. I know you will be different, but you will be Asma - you will reign supreme.
You will have to.
"We'll kill them, baby," the Rocmother said softly, almost cooing to the egg in her embrace. "No human will harm you, darling; we'll cut them down until there's no one in the world but us. Then we'll be safe. Then you'll be safe. I promise."
Author: Thai
Challenge: Chocolate #11 - confusion, Chocolate Chip Mint #13 - dazzling
Rating: PG
Story: blood princess
Timeline: Falsehood arc
Word Count: 264
"I can't change either."
The bauble nearly slipped from Asma's fingers, and it was only thanks to Astor that it did not shatter on the floor; his touch was burning in comparison to the sphere when he pressed it back into her hands.
"What?"
The glass sphere in her hands was as blue as the eyes that regarded her; slowly, Astor leaned forward, trapping the azure bauble between them. Their lips met.
As always it sent a steady burn through her, radiating out from her face and stabbing deep into her heart. As if someone had peeled away her skin and replaced it with warm ash. Haytham's touch was cool, and made her shiver; but this was heat, and this was love, and Astor was still as beautiful as the day he had returned her plaything.
The sphere fell from her nerveless fingers, and as quickly as she could blink Astor had caught it, smirking at her as if to say I told you so.
"So," Asma said breathlessly, when she could finally say something. "What was that you said?"
"I can't change either." He shrugged, as if it were nothing, but that wasn't nothing, that was--!
"What do you mean? Why not?"
Now the paler Roc looked faintly uneasy, and he looked away. Look at me! Tell me! She wasn't the pathetic princess anymore, she wasn't the only Roc in existence who couldn't wear her rightful feathers--
"Tell you later," Astor muttered, and Asma's heart deflated.
He wouldn't tell her later. Whenever he said that, it meant he wouldn't tell her at all.
Author: Thai
Challenge: Sour Apple #3 - it's not you, it's me, Chocolate Chip Mint #12 - warped, Fudge Ripple #9 - distraction
Rating: PG
Story: blood princess
Timeline: Falsehood arc
Word Count: 594
Everything was inside-out and upside-down, and for a long time she wandered around in a kind of daze. She avoided the gazes of everyone who tried to look at her, ignored the voice which told her to look at them, flinched away from the touches intended to garner her attention.
She'd been an annoyance. She saw that now. She'd been a childish distraction to him. She'd dragged him into loving her, like she'd dragged Haytham into bedding her and Janan into caring for her.
Her instincts had been wrong. This wasn't Astor's fault, the way that they looked at her - with respect and a sickening distrust. It was hers.
"Since I was small," she said aloud, and Janan looked up in surprise. Asma paid no attention. "I met him when I was small, and -"
He'd taught her a great many things. Dancing. Laughter. The warmth of his arms around her at night.
Love.
But that was in the past. He'd lied to her, too, and he'd hidden things from her that a lover should know. He'd pretended to be something he was not, and she'd killed the leading lady in his fantasy play.
When she was small she'd loved him. She'd touched his face when he taught her how to read and he always used to laugh at her, but -
She was a child. His face was ageless, they were all immortal and beautiful, but she was a seventeen-year-old child and how old was he? A hundred years old? Two hundred?
He'd seen the world and all she knew of it was this palace.
"I didn't love you, you know," she told Haytham almost conversationally, as soon as Janan was out of earshot. "I liked the way your hair looked in the sun. And I liked the way you smiled. You were very kind to everyone - except for me."
But he'd taught her how to fly. Not in the way that was important to everyone else in this godforsaken palace, but the way he flew. He had no wings, but his music -
Perhaps when she first danced to his compositions, that was when she fell in love. Before then, it was only a fleeting desire, a child-fancy.
Could he identify the moment he fell in love with her? Could she?
No.
Because he'd never fallen in love with her at all.
She couldn't dance anymore, Asma noted, after the third time she stumbled over her own sash. Maybe it was the way she didn't eat anymore.
Or maybe she should ask the pianist to play different music.
They told her always - come out, Asma, they wheedled, waving their fingers as if coaxing a cat. Come out and play, you cannot stay in the dark all day.
Oh yes? Asma always said back to them. Watch me.
She only looked, though. She didn't want to waste her voice.
He had betrayed her, Asma realized, after the first time she collapsed by her window. He had betrayed her.
But, Asma knew, it was only her fault that he had. Her grip was not tight enough, and her feet were not fleet enough; she could not hold him and she could not run after him. All she could do was hurt what was keeping him from her, even if he wanted that thing, even if he needed it. She was selfish and childish and she could only wish that he would stay, because he never would.
And, Asma finally realized, it was really much better that way, for both of them.
Author: Thai
Challenge: Chocolate Chip Mint #26 - battered, Sour Apple #10 - now you've done it, Chocolate #9 - resentment
Rating: G
Story: blood princess
Timeline: Motherhood arc
Extra: Pocky
Word Count: 82
"You're pathetic."
Asma flinched. The words were sharper than a whip, and dug into her, leaving welts on her heart. They stung more than the handprint still burning on her cheek.
Her mother stared at her. Coolly. Coldly.
Then she walked away, sandals slapping on the stone corridor floor. And Asma was free to sag against the rocky wall, free to spin like the girl in the fairy tale; except instead of straw into gold, she was spinning her sorrow into rage.
--
As always, blood princess is also archived here.