Author Topic: The SSSS Scriptorium  (Read 768467 times)

Gaemmel

  • Safe-Zone Citizen
  • **
    • Tumblr
  • Preferred pronouns: she/her
  • Posts: 143
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3405 on: October 13, 2017, 11:31:25 AM »
I finally did another chapter of "Keksit"! :D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192511/chapters/28086960
I'm the left one on the picture.

Fluent: :germany: :uk:
In school I had: :france: :spain:
Some words and phrases: :japan:
Learning: :sweden:

:chap13::chap14::chap15::chap16::chap17::chap18::chap19::chap20::chap21:

wavewright62

  • Valkyrie
  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • *
    • Tumblr
  • Preferred pronouns: she/her
  • Posts: 4975
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3406 on: October 15, 2017, 04:26:36 AM »
I've finally finished a story I began about a month ago but shelved to finish 'Stranded' and work on InkTober.  It is called 'Quilt' and it purports to answer in part what happened to Kaino Hotakainen, and some people like her adrift in Finland.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369642
Always a newbie at something
Native speaker: :us:
Acquired: :nz:
Grew up speaking but now very rusty: :ee:


Ruler of Queenstown Airport (Thanks Purple Wyrm, I will wear my wings with pride)
Admiral of the Sunken Rainbow Warrior

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1245
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3407 on: October 16, 2017, 01:19:01 AM »
I hope this doesn't disappoint.

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 3, Part 21
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: The Utility of Futility • show
They were never going to reach Mora.

They had lost the line of the Sveavägen tracks and could not find them again; there were too many grosslings; the weather had turned into alternating snow, sleet, and freezing rain, with occasional bone-chilling gusts of wind mixed in for good measure; and no one based in Mora was looking for them.

The very hopelessness of the situation called forth an answering rage in each of them—a rage that drove them on along the seemingly impossible path, even through everything that the weather and the grosslings could throw at them and then some. Even Emil’s pyromania was a good thing, as it held back the cold while also warding off the grosslings.

They had to carry the cats along, as the weather had become too much for them. Reynir took Nils, as they got along best; Tuuri took John, who wasn’t too displeased; and Emil was stuck with Ola, which meant he had to take the rear while Lalli took point, since Ola and Lalli cordially disliked each other. Emil was fairly certain that if they’d been left loose, the cats would have abandoned the humans, as all that was keeping the six humans going was sheer willpower, which animals in general tended to be short on, and the aforementioned rage, which the cats didn’t seem to share.

They were trudging northward still, and still going as fast as they could against the weather. The four immunes were arrayed in a diamond around the two non-immunes; as has been said, Lalli took point, Emil was the rearguard, and Sigrun and Mikkel took the flanks. Visibility was awful; even had they been certain of their direction, they might have missed the cyclopean Mora walls by a matter of yards and been none the wiser. Despite this, they still managed to drive off the incessant grossling attacks.

Now, most people would have assumed that the weather was far too foul for the local grosslings to come after the little band, but they would have realized their error after the third or fourth attack. Fortunately, none got close enough to touch any of them, as the crude wards Reynir had daubed on all their clothes proved good enough to slow the grosslings sufficiently for the fighters to take them out—but the weather was wearing the runes away with horrible speed; they were almost gone when the final attack came.

This time, all four immunes had to go hand-to-hand with the oncoming grosslings; even the cats had leapt forth to guard the non-immune pair. Tuuri and Reynir were back-to-back with improvised clubs at the ready when—

—The nearest grossling’s heads began exploding in flames. Lalli had loosed his luonto, hitherto held tightly in reserve against this extremity.

The rest of the grosslings began to flee, unable to outmatch the spectral lynx assailing them. Once they had all passed out of sight, Lalli dropped to his knees, blood dripping from his nose and eyes. The cats had vanished as well, but the only felinoid Emil cared about was Lalli. The young Swede rushed to his friend’s side, just beating out Tuuri; neither heeded Sigrun’s reproaches at breaking formation.

Lalli was unresponsive to anything Emil, Tuuri, Reynir, or Mikkel tried, but he was breathing more or less normally. Sigrun cursed to herself for quite some time as the others all fussed over Lalli, but the grosslings had all fled, as far as she could tell without the cats around. Her frustration mounted as more time passed without an outlet for her to vent it upon, until she finally grabbed Emil’s flamethrower, pointed it above them, and let out a long burst and a loud yell.

The silence after Sigrun’s scream lasted quite a while; it was broken not by a sound, but by a spotlight suddenly illuminating the little knot of people. Voices muffled by masks screamed at them in Swedish, and uniformed figures swarmed around them with astonishing speed.

The Swedish Army had found them at last.

They were hustled into the nearest quarantine facility, though Emil tried to protest that it was unnecessary for the immunes, and all six of them spent the bulk of the next two weeks nearly prostrate with exhaustion; even Sigrun was out like a light for almost two full days.

Eventually, though, all six of them were released and escorted back to Mora, where one final surprise awaited them…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Well, they made it…

…But now they still have to try to get where they were going on the Dalahästen in the first place. (I think they’ll opt for taking the sea route this time—even Lalli.)

Róisín

  • Elder of the Ruined Realm
  • ********
  • Posts: 8618
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3408 on: October 16, 2017, 01:50:15 AM »
I like it!
Avatar is courtesy of the amazing Haiz!

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1245
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3409 on: October 16, 2017, 04:21:40 AM »
Oh, boy.

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 1, Part 22
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: A Very Special Swede • show
Emil was sweating and trembling with exhaustion after the DDR tournament, for he’d just danced as he’d never had to dance before. He’d won, of course, but only just barely—who was that grey-haired boy who went through the moves like he’d been doing them forever?

Some of the onlookers were still hanging around, muttering weird things like “…the best match-up since Hector and Achilles, man!” Emil tried to analyze their weird jargon, but his foggy mind could only latch onto one thing: they kept repeating “Lalli” over and over again.

*

Lalli was sweating and trembling with exhaustion as he searched the convention for Tuuri. What had possessed him to go from his usual haunt in the Call of Duty crowd to the DDR tournament? What had possessed him to enter the tournament?

What had possessed that blond Swede to dance well enough to beat him?

Well, for one thing, wiping the floor with all the other Call of Duty players had palled over the last few months. Lalli had actually been interested in seeing how his skill at figure-skating would translate to dancing; in fact, he’d been pretty confident that it would translate well enough for him to win. Never in his wildest imaginings had Lalli thought a sparkly-haired, slightly chubby Swede would best him but one had.

*

Never in his wildest imaginings had Emil thought that a grey-haired, rail thin Finn would almost best him, but  one very nearly had, and Emil just couldn’t get him out of his head. This was far from usual, as Emil tended to avoid rather than engage people in the long term; this was a holdover from his semi-disastrous school days, reinforced by his relations with his co-workers.

There were certain semi-official “rules” regarding eating and sleeping when at a convention; Emil tended to do what he usually did with all other facets of the conventions that he attended to which he was indifferent: ignore them. Today, however, Emil alternated between haunting the food court and wandering the hallways in the interstitial period between panels when all the other fanatics were seeking to rush to feed their obsessions, for he was doing the same, in his own way: Emil was desperately straining to catch another glimpse, however momentary, of that thin, graceful figure.

Just as Emil was about to head back to the food court, an elf and some kind of soldier brushed past him. They were chattering away about something; Emil didn’t know anything about the subject of their discussion, so he more or less tuned it out, until one word among the chatter caught his ears: Lalli. That one word was enough to send Emil after them, but they had seemingly vanished without trace.

*

Sigrun Eide, Norse cinema’s reigning Queen of the Troll Hunters, just loved doing the convention circuit; the only things she liked better were action scenes and stunts. She’d started as a medieval martial arts re-enactor at one of those “dinner and a tourney” places, and after a while she’d been contacted by a small indie film outfit, Most Best Productions, run by Trond Andersen, Taru Hollala, and a couple of silent partners.

“Uncle” Trond was actually an old friend of her parents, who were also re-enactors, but volunteer ones at fairs and such: they and he were all “generals” in some fighters’ association or other that Sigrun could never remember the right name of, even though she herself was a captain in that organization. Her parents had never quite gotten over their distaste that Sigrun did what she did for money rather than for love of the martial art; they were slightly more approving of her career change, since she got to join them at the fairs once more.

Sigrun was always ready for a good brawl, and she loved all the little fanlings at the cons she appeared in, so when the terrorists barged in on the Most Boring Panel Ever (which she had only signed on for at Uncle Trond’s behest), a smile broke over her face that should have sent the terrorists running right then and there.

The man chairing the panel, a giant of a Dane named Madsen, made the mistake of trying to reason with the terrorists, who shot him in the leg. Ten seconds later, Sigrun had cleaned the clocks of the other terrorists in the room and was ready to find some more to take down.

When Sigrun charged into the hallway, she almost got her face melted off by a blonde Swede wielding a flamethrower improvised from a gas lighter and a can of hair spray. Sigrun’s grin grew wider, but rather than taking the kid down, she decided to recruit him.

Within an hour, the two of them had cleared the convention of the terrorists; Sigrun either never heard or didn’t care to remember why they’d tried to take the con. She did care to remember her Little Viking’s right name: Emil Västerström.

*

The con had been over for maybe a month when Emil got A Missive from his uncle, Torbjörn Västerström, commanding his appearance at the next performance of “The Nutcracker on Ice”, where he and Sigrun were to be properly introduced. Emil knew he was probably also expected to render his thanks to Sigrun for saving his life and an apology for daring to assist her in her heroism. According to Torbjörn, Västerströms never undertook to engage in heroics themselves: they paid others to do that, as with all else that was beneath them to do.

Emil resigned himself to a boring night, as he knew that even Sigrun couldn’t liven up an “art form” that always bored him to tears, unless more terrorists struck. Emil knew he couldn’t be so lucky for that to occur.

What Emil didn’t know was that he would espy a very familiar figure out on the ice…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
I just had way too much fun writing this, so it got reeeeeeeeeeaaaaallllly long.

Oh, well.

Buteo

  • Ranger
  • ****
  • Posts: 751
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3410 on: October 16, 2017, 12:54:11 PM »
Well, then, LooNEY, I hope you have at least as much fun writing the next chapter.
I can readily see Lalli as a figure skater.

Talimee

  • Scout
  • ***
    • Tumblr
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 278
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3411 on: October 19, 2017, 08:19:59 PM »
Y'know. That one fic you started at a whim and on a hormonal high and which somehow gets added to again and again?
Have another chapter of Cotton Love. ;D

Title: Cotton Love, Chapter 5
Rating: G
Pairing: Emil/Lalli
Tags: Fluff, Sillyness, Domestic Bliss, Potted Plants
Summary: Their place is for them alone, but not all additions are unwelcome.
[22:31] <@amity> And they care about only two things: Emil/Lalli fanfic, and chewing bubblegum.
[22:31] <@amity> And the word is, they're all out of bubblegum.

Joined: :chap4:
Survived:
:chap5::chap6::chap7: :chap20:
:chap8::chap9::chap10:
:chap11::chap12::chap13:
:chap14::chap15::chap16:
:chap17::chap18::chap19:

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1245
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3412 on: October 20, 2017, 05:12:16 AM »
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 2, Part 22
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: Verisimilitude • show
Long before the Saimaa Incident, Onni had once told Lalli, “Our world is built upon a mountain of anguish”; Lalli had never been more aware of the truth of that statement than he was now.

Onni had also told him, “When something is your fault, you must be ready to face the consequences”, and, “Sometimes, the only way to protect those you love is to take their fate as your own.”

The most obvious way to deal with It once and for all was also the way that would cause Lalli the most pain possible; and even then, none of them could be sure that the plan would work at all, so Lalli might have to go through all of that pain for nothing.

But Lalli still knew that he had to go through with the plan.

The glyph thrummed with barely restrained power as Lalli approached it; he was somewhat surprised that none of the others besides Reynir seemed aware of it, though none of them looked anything but somber and determined. When Lalli reached the very edge of the massive glyph, he stopped and closed his eyes.

The dearly familiar forms of “Tuuri” and “Onni” standing proudly in the center of the glyph were the first—rather, the only—sight that Lalli saw when his eyes opened. “They” looked back at him, “their” gazes steady and unflinching, even as sudden tears blurred Lalli’s vision.

Lalli shut his eyes, the Icelandic babble Reynir was gargling not penetrating his consciousness. Nothing penetrated his consciousness, until the power writhing within the glyph suddenly flared. Lalli opened his eyes and saw Reynir putting a bandage on Sigrun’s off hand. Even as Lalli watched, Emil used the pukko that had once been Tuuri’s to slice his own palm, letting the blood thus released feed the glyph. Next, Mikkel added his own blood to the mix, and then Reynir did.

“Lalli.” Lalli looked back at “Onni”. “You should all go now.”

Lalli nodded, but his feet refused to move.

“Tuuri” looked at Lalli and said, “Don’t be sad, Lalli. We’ll see each other again someday. You know that.”

A moment later, Lalli had turned his back on the heartrending sight and was moving off towards their new campsite.

*

There was something hypnotic about the campfire, something that crowded out everything else in the world around Lalli; he welcomed this effect, as it kept the thoughts lurking in the back of his mind at bay. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting at the fireside when he was brought out of it by gentle hands trying, all too clumsily, to place a warm jacket over Lalli like a cloak.

Pain, gratitude and anger shot through Lalli at the sensation. He wasn’t sure what he would have said or done to Emil, who only meant to be kind, but he never managed any sort of response because right exactly then was when the glyph erupted, making darkness daylight for a few terrible moments. Even this far away from the explosion, the power of it knocked into Lalli, and he knew no more.

When Lalli opened his eyes again, he was in his dream-space; “Tuuri”, “Onni” and Reynir were all looking back at him silently.

Reynir was the first to speak. “The plan worked.”

“Onni” nodded. “Yes. It is destroyed.” Then “he” turned away. “And now, we must go.”

Lalli wanted to cry out, but “they” were already fading away…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Ow.

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3413 on: October 20, 2017, 08:52:05 AM »
In all honesty, I think that this is a mess.

I'm posting it anyway.

The Quest

:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3414 on: October 21, 2017, 09:29:59 AM »
Here, have a thing that's already been Jossed.

The River of Dreams

:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1245
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3415 on: October 21, 2017, 05:10:26 PM »
...Did someone mention stuff that's already Jossed?

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 3, Part 22
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: The Vicissitudes of Life • show
“So, how are we planning to get across the old bridge when our (ahem) illustrious predecessors brought it down all that time ago?” Sigurd was confident that his XO had already given this matter some thought, and now was an appropriate enough time for Michaela to present the plan for his review.

“…With the bridging equipment that you helped load into the cargo area?” Michaela had that tone in her voice that made everyone else on the crew uncertain whether or not the big Dane was laughing at what they’d just asked her.

“Wait.” Sigurd frowned. “That was really bridging equipment? I thought the labeling was just for show, so Mia and Lalli wouldn’t go all happy-happy over more ordinance or something.”

“While I wouldn’t put something like that past Torolf, I can assure you that I have personally checked the contents of every container currently in our cargo area against our manifest both before and after we left the Øresund Base, and they are all what they should be.”

Sigurd relaxed very subtly. “So no candle stew.”

Michaela nodded. “Precisely. In any case, I was actually more worried about something other than rebuilding the bridge.”

“And that is?”

“I’m much more concerned about the Death-Shades that we failed to locate at Kastellet,” Michaela ignored Sigurd’s wince at the word “failed”, “as it is not outside the realm of possibility that some or all of them may still be hanging around the bridge area, despite the runes Reynir Árnason put down to keep them from following the First Expedition—or perhaps because those runes worked well enough that the First Expedition never encountered them again.”

“Well, not that bunch anyways. I heard they just barely escaped another bunch in the old hospital in Odense.”

“That was what they put down in their official report.” Michaela and Sigurd exchanged a look reflecting their shared understanding of how accurate official reports tended to be.

“…We’re supposed to go there and exorcise that bunch too, aren’t we?”

“I have not looked at that part of our itinerary as yet, but it would be wise to assume so.”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate cleaning up other people’s messes?”

“Not in the last hour or so. To be fair, this was not a mess anyone made deliberately; the Old Timers had no idea they were creating ghosts with their serum, and the First Expedition used the only tools they possessed to deal with the situation.”

Sigurd smiled wryly. “Just like us, though at least we have a better idea of what we’re facing and how to deal with it.”

“Just so.”

“Well, even if the old Death-Shades are stupid enough to still be hanging around the area, a few basic precautions should be enough to keep them at bay until Tuuli can deal with them; our predecessors noted that these Death-Shades would avoid any light shed by the sun or the moon, so all we need to do is make sure we stay in that light, and that none of the shadows we cast can provide a path for them to reach us by.”

“A masterful tactical analysis.”

“That is my job.”

“And you do it well. Certainly better than anyone else on our team.”

“Mia’s starting to get up to speed there, and Lalli’s no great slouch either.” As ever, Sigurd was unwilling to accept praise at the expense of giving others their due.

“But they’re still not at your level as yet. Anyway, I suppose we can chalk whether we find the Death-Shades or not, as with our grossling encounters, up to the vicissitudes of life.”

“Or death, in their case.” Sigurd grinned. “Anyway, my stomach is telling me it’s suppertime.”

Michaela nodded, wondering why she’d expected Sigurd to have absolutely no clue what ‘vicissitudes’ meant…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
This is not quite the end, but it’s coming up soon, as there are only a dozen tales left to go in this collection.

I will give these guys a proper close-out, though.


LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1245
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3416 on: October 21, 2017, 07:42:46 PM »
Dirty double poster makes a dirty double post (again) much too soon (also again), and closes the gap to three.

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 1, Part 23
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: A World to Roam • show
Sometimes, even the excitement of what she and her colleagues were doing with the information the team had signaled back wasn’t enough to ease Tuuri’s frustration at her continued infirmity. There was a whole world out there ready and waiting for her to explore it, and she was stuck in the safest place in Sweden with a broken leg!

Even the day when the team finally managed to replicate the failed serum wasn’t exciting enough to take Tuuri’s mind off of roaming the Silent World; fortunately, Onni was there to send the proto-murder-ghost on before it became a problem. Everyone else on the team was ecstatic, as the subject had just died—the Rash had been stopped!

Of course, Tuuri was the only one who believed her brother about there being any sort of specter present at all, though the Finns both took note that this disbelief did not extend to staying by the bedside of the next subject until their death.

“Hi.”

The greeting was so unexpected that it actually knocked Tuuri out of her introspection. She was on her way back to the place she and Onni were renting, though Onni would still be watching The Gnorns, and so her thoughts had gloomily centered on what every hobbling pace with her crutches could not fail to bring to her mind; but something about the soft salutation caught Tuuri’s attention sufficiently to bring her back to the here and now.

The young, small voice came from a young, small girl bundled up in somewhat threadbare garments against the winter’s cold. She made for a rather adorable picture with the storefronts all decorated and fancily lit for Yule (or rather its aftermath) at her back and an expression on her face that combined hesitance and an odd sort of hungry look, but if Tuuri had learned anything from The Gnorns, it was that looks could be terribly deceiving.

“I’m Marta. What’s your name?”

Tuuri looked around for the responsible adult that should be hovering nearby, but saw none. “Where’s your mother?”

The youngling bit her lip, and Tuuri knew what she said next would be a lie. “She’s… in one of the shops getting something for me, but it’s a surprise, so I’m not supposed to go in or peek.”

Not bad for off-the-cuff, but Tuuri knew she couldn’t let it stand. “Where’s your mother?” She let her voice harden just a little, to let the girl know she knew.

“She—she went away,” the little girl—Marta, she said her name was Marta—said reluctantly. “She left me at the orphanage—but she coming back! She said she’d be back with enough money that we can have all the nice things we want!”

“Where did she go?” Tuuri asked cautiously.

Caution crept into Marta’s face. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

Tuuri tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

A long, long moment passed before Marta finally said, “She went into Silent Denmark, on a special trip with a bunch of other people.”

Tuuri’s lips felt oddly numb, but she managed to ask, “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Momma.” Marta grinned.

“What do other people call her?”

The little face scrunched in thought. “Um… Miira, I think?” Marta shrugged. “It’s something like that. We have weird-sounding names because we’re part Finn.”

“Are you, then?” Tuuri asked in Finnish. “So am I; actually, I’m all Finn, from Finland itself.”

“Our name is Kiianmies,” Marta said in the same tongue. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Tuuri Hotakainen, and I was actually supposed to go on the trip into Silent Denmark, but I broke my leg.”

Marta looked solemn. “When I grow up, I’m going to be a Cleanser, and go on missions to make the Silent World Clean again.”

Tuuri nodded. “But you should see as much of it as you can before you do that; there’s an awful lot of Silent World out there to roam, and not all of it needs to burn to reclaim it.” She cocked her head. “Would you like to come and see the Mora HQ of the mission your mom’s on?”

Marta trotted eagerly after Tuuri as she made her awkward way back to the Västerströms’ place…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Marta is around six years old here, which makes her over 21 when she met Emil in “Correspondence”; the age gap was part of why Marta had to trick him into proposing.

And Miira’s reaction when she talks to Marta next won’t be what you might expect (unless you’re evil like me).

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3417 on: October 21, 2017, 09:54:13 PM »
I am quite evil, and have already thought of several possibilities...
:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3418 on: October 22, 2017, 08:26:33 AM »
Aaaaaaaaaaaangst.

The Stone

:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1245
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3419 on: October 23, 2017, 12:43:22 AM »
Double ending post here.

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 2, Part 23
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: What Grossling? • show
Mia looked at Reyndis skeptically. “What are you talking about?” Her weapon was in her hands despite the question; in the Silent World, there was no such thing as too much paranoia.

“The vættur,” Reyndis expostulated, waving frantically at the spot where she’d seen the minute troll just moments ago. While the team normally spoke Swedish/Norwegian/Danish amongst themselves, Reyndis’ upset had caused her to slip back into her native Icelandic.

“Lalli?” The other Cleanser’s head popped up at Mia’s call. “Are there any vättes hanging around here?”

“No.”

Mia relaxed subtly. “See? Lalli may not be a full-fledged mage,” anymore, she added silently, “like you and Tuuli are, but she’s certainly got enough juice to tell when there’s a grossling anywhere nearby.”

“Maybe it’s a weird spirit trying to play tricks on you,” Lalli offered. “I can’t usually see those, but I’ve been on their bad side before; it’s not fun.”

Mia grimaced and nodded; this epic speech (for Lalli) had brought back a few unpleasant memories of her own. “That’s probably it, Reyndis,” she agreed. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing any of us except maybe you or Tuuli can do about it.” She cuffed the Icelander’s arm playfully. “Try not to let it get to you, huh?”

*

“What?” Michaela shifted her feet as she turned from her position over the steaming cooking pot, her thick boots crushing the tiny vermin beast with a sickening crunch. “What grossling, Reyndis?”

Reyndis opened her mouth, then thought better of it. “Never mind; just be sure to wipe your feet before you get in the vehicle.”

Lalli had, of course, taken advantage of Michaela’s distraction to toss a squirrel into the pot, but at least she’d had the courtesy to skin and clean it beforehand.

*

“You know, Reyndis, this isn’t the best time to start going stir-crazy.”

For once, Sigurd was completely calm and collected when remonstrating with Reyndis; in fact, he was rather more sympathetic than his usual air of impatience would have led one to believe possible.

“I know this whole thing has been really rough on you, but we’re almost at the pick-up point and out of this place, and with everything done that we were supposed to get done, so if you can just keep it together for a few more days, we’ll be home free.” Sigurd grinned. “When we’re on the ship, you can go as stark raving mad as you want and they’ll take care of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you know the ship’s mage!”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Reyndis muttered, and Sigurd laughed for the first time since Odense.

*

Tuuli frowned, his patience finally at an end. “Look, Reyndis…”

“No, you look!” Reyndis interrupted, pointing at the tiny round troll sitting just behind Tuuli.

Tuuli blinked at this uncharacteristic assertiveness on Reyndis’ part, then closed his eyes. When they opened, they glowed blue. “I’m looking.” The troll seemed to glow the same shade of blue that Tuuli’s eyes were for a moment, then Tuuli sang something at it and it vanished.

Reyndis let out a sigh of relief.

“How long has that thing been bothering you?” Tuuli’s voice had lost the angry edge it had held a moment ago.

Reyndis shrugged. “A few days; maybe a week. Mostly I’ve been trying to ignore it.”

Tuuli closed his eyes again. “Why were you trying to ignore it?”

“Well, Mia and Lalli thought it was some kind of trickster spirit, and I don’t know anything about dealing with those, so I tried concentrating on keeping anything worse away.”

Tuuli was losing his patience again. “Why didn’t you just ask me then?”

“I kinda… forgot.”

Tuuli went over to the nearest wall and started softly hitting his head against it, which drew Mia and Lalli into the bunk area. Before the Cleanser duo could ask anything, though, a cry rang out from outside.

“THE BOAT’S HERE! TUULI, GET THAT RUST-BUCKET IN GEAR AND ABOARD BEFORE THEY BAIL ON US!”

And that was how the Second Silent World Expedition came to its successful conclusion on one fine morning in the early Spring of the Year 226.

The Third Silent World Expedition, on the other hand…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
And so ends another AU, at least for now.

And, of course, I put in a stealth pun: what Reyndis kept seeing…

…was a Cheshire Vätte.

Because I’m evil.

+
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 3, Part 23
Spoiler: The Worth of a Worm • show
“The answer is still no.”

“I was just hoping that you might have reconsidered while you were laid up and all, since you had so much time to think it over.”

“The answer is still no.” This time, Emil took the time and care to enunciate each word as clearly as he could, as though the Old Man were hard of hearing or slow to understand, though Emil knew that neither was in fact the case. “Now go away.” He rolled over, turning his back to the Old Man in a calculated insult.

The smooth, oily voice that reminded Emil so much of his Uncle T was unruffled; in fact, Emil thought he heard a faint hint of amusement there. “You just think it over some more and we’ll have a good, long palaver about it next time.” And the Old Man was gone.

Emil flopped back onto his back, breathing out a long sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he’d been holding his breath after he’d issued his peremptory demand, part of him fearing that the Old Man would ignore it… and part of him hoping that the Old Man would ignore it.

The pain hit Emil a moment later, lightning bolts of agony shooting down his spine; to sweeten the deal, the Old Man tended to hold the pain at bay while presenting his spiel, but it always came rushing back once Emil had refused and the Old Man had left. Stick and Carrot; Pain and Relief; these were the Old Man’s weapons, and he wielded them with a master’s touch.

Another jolt ran through Emil and lingered. Tonight was going to be bad; the nights he refused the Old Man were always the worst.

Some time later—pain tended to warp your perceptions of how long anything was—Emil became aware of someone else in the room. When he finally managed to get himself together enough to look and see who it might be, he found that it was Lalli. Before Emil could gather the energy to say something, though, Lalli said just one word: “Perkele.”

“Huh?” Emil wished he could have said something more thoughtful and measured, but he simply couldn’t comprehend what his friend was trying to convey with that cryptic utterance.

Lalli sat lightly on the edge of Emil’s bed. “That’s what my grandma used to call the Old Man: Perkele. She was always warning me about falling into his clutches if I wasn’t careful.” Lalli grimaced. “She said she’d had personal experience on how one-sided his deals always were.”

“Run home, Lalli,” Emil said to his friend. “I may not have taken the Old Man’s deal tonight, but he’ll be back, over and over again, until he has his way. If he has to, he’ll kill you and anyone else who thwarts him, so run while you can.”

“You’ve been too good a friend to me for me to do that.” Lalli’s face was utterly solemn.

“I’m a worm” Emil said miserably. “Not worth the powder to blow me to joining the Old Man.”

“Even worms have their worth,” Lalli argued. “They go through the soil and renew it so the crops can grow; no farmer underestimates the worth of a worm, except at his own peril.” He stood. “I won’t abandon you, whether or not you think you’re worth it. Get that through your thick head, Emil Västerström: even when you don’t see me, I’m there with you.”

Between one blink and the next, Lalli was gone. Emil wasn’t sure his friend had ever really been in the room, but he knew that Lalli would always be there when he needed him.

*

Emil (and Lalli) stayed on with Reynir and Tuuri as just another hand, never complaining, always working as best he could; but he never killed anything again, unless it was a weed that needed to be pulled. Every so often, the Old Man would show up, and Emil would refuse him all over again.

Every time Emil looked too deep into a fire, he could see the Old Man laughing.

Lalli was gone by the time Reynir and Tuuri’s grandson took over the spread, but Emil was still limping on, though slower every year. He was the oldest of the hands, and they all tended to help him out when they could get away with it.

One night, the Old Man came for the last time, but Lalli helped Emil see him off. The other hands found Emil in his bunk come morning, a small smile on his weathered face…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
And another ending, somewhat angsty.